Roadside Assistance (17 page)

But that was Zander, not me. I hadn’t been able to crack open a Bible since last year, and I couldn’t see myself doing it now. I wouldn’t even know what chapter to read.

Zander was a better person than I ever would be. If he knew the extent of the doubt that was in my heart, he would never want to spend time with me. For sure he’d call me a heretic or an atheist and send me on my way.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pushing up from the stool and standing. “You look worried about something.”

“Not at all.” I popped up from my stool, determined to take the focus away from my anxiety. I needed to change the subject quickly. I really liked him and didn’t want to see this issue come between us.

“Are we going to stand around all day talking or are we going to get this Dodge running?” I walked around to the front of the car and surveyed the engine. “Do you want my help or not?”

He grinned. “I love it when a woman takes charge.” He gestured toward the toolboxes behind me. “Have at it.”

I started fishing through the drawers in a toolbox behind me. “Watch and learn.”

He laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

chapter eleven

T
he following morning, I slipped into the seat next to Logan at the end of the church pew. My father, Darlene, and Chuck were on the other side of Logan, and Whitney was in the back on the other side of the church with her friends. Cupping my hand to my mouth, I yawned. Zander and I had worked on his car until after midnight.

By the time I’d left to go home last night, we had the engine completely torn apart, but it would take quite a bit of time to rebuild it. The subject of God and faith didn’t come up while we worked on the car. Instead, we’d talked about less intimidating stuff — transmissions, music, movies, books, and school. It was a fun and easy discussion. I’d felt so at ease with him, as if I could say anything — except admit that I wasn’t sure I believed in God anymore. That was the one thing about Zander that kept me from completely opening up to him. I was sure he didn’t understand my doubts and would just keep giving me more advice that felt like empty platitudes. Thankfully, the key to steering clear of the topic of religion was to keep a wrench in Zander’s hands. I could handle that.

But I was paying for our time in the garage. This morning I’d had to drag myself out of bed and into the shower after Darlene knocked on my door. I considered feigning a headache
and going back to sleep, but, truthfully, I’d come to church for one reason — to see Zander again.

How sacrilegious was that?

Pushing thoughts of Zander away, I busied myself with reviewing the bulletin for the service. I was studying it when I felt eyes staring at me. Glancing up, I found Zander smiling down at me. He wore a green collared shirt and tan Dockers.

“Hi,” I said, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. I absently smoothed the skirt of the blue sundress Whitney had insisted I borrow from her.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, gesturing toward the vacant spot next to me.

“No.” I pushed over, closer to Logan. “Sit.”

“Thanks.” He slipped in beside me, his leg brushing mine. He leaned over me and greeted Logan, my dad, and Whitney’s parents, all delighted to see him join us. “How are you?” he asked, turning back to me.

“Tired,” I admitted with a smile.

He chuckled. “You’re a master mechanic.”

“You’re just saying that because you want me to rebuild the engine,” I teased.

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re better at this stuff than I am.”

I waved the thought off. “Please. I’m sure you’ve been doing it longer than I have.”

“I think I was a little older when my grandfather put a wrench in my hand.” He flipped through the bulletin.

It suddenly occurred to me that I’d never asked him who’d taught him about cars. If his father was pushing him to go to medical school, than it couldn’t have been Dr. Stewart. There’d had to have been someone else, but Zander had never shared that information. “Your grandfather taught you?” I asked.

He looked up at me and nodded.

I opened my mouth to ask him more about his grandfather, but Pastor Keith began the service by welcoming everyone.

Throughout the service, I was very aware of Zander beside me. The aroma of his musky cologne filled my senses, and his leg and arm brushed against me a couple of times. While I tried to concentrate on the pastor’s words, my eyes would steal occasional glances of Zander, and he would smile, looking genuinely happy to be sharing church with me, and it made me feel guilty. I hoped he didn’t get a false impression.

When the service was over, we filed out of the sanctuary and followed the crowd to Fellowship Hall for coffee hour. I stood between my dad and Zander and ate chocolate chip cookies while they discussed how nice the service had been and then chatted about work.

“Would it be okay if we went to J2A together and then I’ll give Emily a lift home?” Zander asked my dad between bites of an oatmeal raisin cookie. He quickly explained to my dad what J2A was.

I raised an eyebrow and studied Zander. Did he really think I wanted to go?

I gave a sigh of defeat. Who was I kidding? Of course I would succumb to another hour at church if it meant being with Zander.

“Sure.” My dad shrugged. “Does that sound okay to you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sounds fine.”

Zander and I sat at the back of the classroom, the same room where the movie had been shown. I spotted Whitney up front with her friends, and when she saw me, she waved. I waved back and then scanned the room, recognizing some of the faces from youth group Thursday evening. Jenna, the youth director, came in from the hallway and smiled at me.

“Good morning, everyone,” Jenna said, stepping to the front
of the room. “It’s good to see you all here.” She looked at me. “I’m excited to see new faces here. Welcome, Emily.”

I nodded, and when all eyes turned to me I slumped a little in my seat.

“Today we’ll continue our Bible verse discussion. We’ll pick a verse and discuss what it means to us.” Jenna held up a basket filled with slips of paper. “Who would like to pick today?”

“Emily should pick,” Whitney announced, smiling at me.

Thanks a lot, cuz.
I shook my head. “That’s okay. Someone else can.”

Jenna looked pleased. “No, I think it’s a great idea.” She made her way back to me and placed the basket on my table. “Go ahead. Pick a verse and read it aloud.”

I hesitated.

“It’s okay,” Zander said softly. “I’ll read it if you’d like me to.”

“I can do it,” I said, sitting up straight. Far be it from me to be a helpless female. I snatched a slip of paper from the basket.

Jenna moved to the front of the room and sat on a table. “Read it when you’re ready.”

My eyes scanned the paper, and my heart thumped. The paper read
Deuteronomy 31:6: Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the L
ORD
your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.

How could I ever read this out loud?

“Sure you don’t want me to read it?” Zander asked.

I was really tired of him reading my mind. How was it that this guy could detect my every insecurity?

“No, thanks,” I snapped with a bit more force than I’d planned. “Really, I can do it.” I cleared my throat and read the verse, trying in vain to fight the quaver in my voice.

“What does that verse mean to you, Emily?” Jenna asked. “Or how does it make you feel?”

I blanched, a lump forming in my throat. Was she trying to make me cry in front of these staring faces?

“I don’t know,” I whispered, lying through my teeth.

The verse had hit me right in the chest. It was as if someone was speaking to me, but I couldn’t put my finger on whether it was God or my mom. Maybe it was both. No matter who it was, I suddenly felt like I did the day the congregation sang “Beautiful Savior.” I wanted to run and hide, but I couldn’t make a spectacle of myself again.

“Anyone else?” Jenna asked, scanning the class.

Mindy, the girl who’d shared her popcorn with me Thursday, raised her hand and prattled on about God’s love and protection while Zander leaned close to me.

“You okay?” he whispered, placing his hand on my arm. His palm was warm and soft, despite the Gojo he’d used to clean off the grease last night after we’d worked on the car. I absently wondered if he’d used a lot of hand lotion before going to bed.

“Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat and wiping my eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he said, still leaning so close that his cologne tickled my nose. “You want to go?”

“No.” I forced a smile. “I just have something in my eye.”

“Something in your eye,” he repeated. “Right.”

For the rest of class, I held the verse in my right hand while fingering my cross with my left. I couldn’t stop thoughts of my mom from flooding my mind. I wondered again how my mother had kept her faith alive during her illness. How could she pray through everything that was happening to her? I know she read the Bible nearly every night, and she insisted we all accompany her to church on Sunday and even some Wednesday nights before she became too ill to travel out of our little house much. My mother’s faith baffled me. She knew she wasn’t going to make it, but she still believed until the very end.

My mother was still in the forefront of my mind when Zander and I stepped out into the hallway after class. He gave me a smile and started to say something but was interrupted by Whitney.

“I’ll go find Logan and meet you at the car, okay?” she asked me.

“Actually, we have plans,” Zander said.

“Really?” Whitney’s eyebrows careened to her hairline.

“We have to discuss my car,” he said with a smile.

“Right?” “Right,” I said. “We still have to make a plan of attack for the rebuild.”

“Oh.” Whitney looked between us and shrugged. “You kids go and have fun. I’ll see you later.”

Zander and I fell in step on our way down the hallway, and he held the door open for me.

“Did you really want to talk about the car?” I asked on our way to his Jeep.

“Not necessarily. I just didn’t want her and Logan to join us for lunch,” he said, wrenching the door open for me.

“We’re going to lunch?” I asked.

“Yup.” He nodded toward the seat. “Hop in.”

I sat across from Zander in the booth at the Cameronville Diner. The restaurant was bustling with the lunchtime crowd. Families dressed in their Sunday best clogged the booths and tables while servers weaved through the sea of chairs, delivering food. The aroma of burgers and fries filled the air.

“What’s good?” I asked, perusing the menu.

“They make a mean burger,” Zander said, placing his menu on the table.

“Hence the delicious smells?” I asked, looking up and seeing his smile.

He grinned. “Yup.”

The server stopped by, and we both ordered burgers and fries. She returned a few minutes later with our Cokes.

“Tell me about your grandfather,” I said once the server was gone.

Zander swished the straw around in his glass. “He was the most amazing mechanic that ever lived. Or so I always believed.”

“Oh, he’s gone,” I whispered, internally kicking myself for bringing up a sad subject after my own emotional J2A class. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Zander took a long drink and then settled back in the seat. “He passed away about two years ago, but he lived a good, long life. He was almost ninety. My mom is the youngest of five, and my grandpa was in his forties when she was born.”

“Did he live here?” I asked.

He nodded. “He worked at the shop where your dad and I work. In fact, he was the original owner — Jack bought him out a few years ago.”

“So that’s why you said your family has known the owner for years.”

“Exactly. My grandpa was a mechanic all his life. He started teaching me about cars when I was around six or seven, I guess. He always had a project car in his garage, and he and I would tinker.” Zander glanced out the window toward the traffic rushing by on Highway 29. “My dad used to tell me it was a good hobby but not something I should pursue full-time.”

“Sounds like Chuck,” I said, lifting my glass. “He told Logan the same thing.”

“I asked my dad once why it was good enough for Grandpa and not me, and he said that Grandpa didn’t have options. Back when Grandpa was growing up, he didn’t have the money for college, so he did the only thing he knew, which was cars.”
Zander shook his head. “Dad doesn’t understand having a passion for cars. He could never accept that my grandfather was happy with his choices in life.”

I sipped my drink. “My dad is happy too. I mean, of course there are things he wishes he could change, but I don’t think he ever regrets his career choice.”

There was a pause, and Zander’s expression turned serious. “Was J2A too much for you today?”

“No,” I said quickly. Where were some tools when I needed them? “It was okay.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. I could tell that you were …” He paused, as if choosing his words. “You were upset.”