“No problem,” Annie replied with another warm smile. “You ain’t from around here, are you?”
Richie shook his head. “No. Just passing through. Well… trying to, anyway.”
Annie chuckled and looked at her rear-view mirror as she eased the pickup back onto the unmarked asphalt. “I take it that’s your car back there?”
“Yes Ma’am.” Richie winced. There it was again – “Ma’am.” What the Hell was wrong with him?
Annabelle looked sideways at her passenger. “What’s your name?”
“Richard.” His reply was almost wary as he met her glance. “But everybody calls me Richie.”
“Well, Richie, I appreciate your nice manners, but my name ain’t ‘Ma’am.’ It’s Annabelle. Everybody calls me Annie.” She gave him another little smile. “I’m not quite old enough to be a ‘Ma’am’ just yet.”
“How old are you?” Richie automatically asked. He cringed again the second the words left his lips.
Annie turned her head to give him an amused look, one brow lifted. “Well, so much for those manners. Didn’t anybody teach you never to ask a woman her age?” One corner of her mouth twisted in a little smirk as she chided him.
“Sorry Ma’… Sorry.” Richie flushed as he almost slipped again. He took a deep breath and decided to just shut up. He looked out the window, trying to collect his wits.
Her musical laughter floated through the pickup’s cab. “I’m just playin’, Richie. I’m twenty-one.” When Richie reluctantly glanced back at her she grinned. “Now you have to tell me how old you are. Fair is fair.”
Richie smiled sheepishly. “Twenty-two,” he lied. His smile broadened as Annie’s blue eyes sparkled back at him for a moment before she returned her gaze to the road. He relaxed a little, for the first time really looking at her.
She was pretty in a fresh-faced, wholesome sort of way. She wore no makeup and her skin had a healthy glow. A sprinkling of faint freckles dotted her nose and a comfortable smile curved her pink lips. The breeze from her open window stirred thick honey-blonde hair around her face and her sky-blue eyes glowed as she kept her gaze on the road. Her posture was relaxed, as was her expression. A short-sleeved green plaid shirt and a short denim skirt revealed her lean, tanned arms and shapely bronzed legs.
As he regarded her, Richie for some reason felt very nervous yet completely at ease with this pretty, kind young woman. The paradigm of his response puzzled him.
Annabelle felt her passenger’s eyes on her, and her smile widened. “So, where are you from, Richie?” She knew from his accent he wasn’t a Southerner. “And what brings you down to these parts?”
“Jersey. I mean, I’m from New Jersey. I came down here to… “ he paused, not knowing exactly how to answer that question. He wasn’t really sure why he had headed to the Deep South, of all places. He had just started driving and somehow ended up here. “I guess I came here looking for… a job or something.”
“Oh.” Annie could tell by the note of bitterness in Richie’s voice that he hadn’t found whatever it was he was really seeking. “No luck?”
Richie shook his head and looked away, out the window. “Nah. It didn’t work out.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Not wanting him to withdraw, Annie changed the subject. “So, what’s wrong with your car? Out of gas?”
Richie sighed. “I wish. Something with the engine, I think. I couldn’t see anything wrong when I took a look under the hood. Other than a cloud of steam, that is.”
Annie made a face. “That don’t sound good.” She smiled again, a little more gently. “Well, I’m sure Eddie can fix you up.”
“Eddie?”
“He owns the Texaco. It’s probably closed now, but he’s usually hanging around for awhile after quitting time. I’ll drop you there, if that’s what you want.”
Richie nodded, hoping like Hell Eddie was still there and would be sympathetic to his plight. “Thanks. That would be great. I was afraid there wouldn’t be a garage, or it would be closed.”
Annie smiled as she guided the pickup into a right turn at an unmarked intersection. “Well, you’re in luck. We DO have a garage, and even if it’s closing time we’re not gonna turn away somebody who needs help. That’s not what we do here in Darien.”
Darien. So that’s where I am. Richie had to smile at Annie’s words. “Even some Yankee stranger?”
Annie chuckled softly. “There are no strangers in this town, Richie. Just friends we don’t know yet.”
She said it with such simple sincerity that it didn’t even sound corny. Richie’s heart warmed and he gave her a genuine smile, his first in a long time. He could use a little kindness right now.
In a matter of minutes they were in town. As the pickup truck rolled past neat little houses dwarfed by huge Spanish moss-draped cypress trees, Richie drew in a deep breath. For the first time he detected the faint smell of the nearby ocean lingering in the heavy, humid air.
Annie pulled the truck into another right turn, onto a wide street lined with old two-story buildings. This was obviously Darien’s Main Street. A few cars were parked at an angle along the three-block-long stretch and colorful signs dotted glass-windowed storefronts. As the pickup rolled slowly along the street Richie picked out the Post Office, a barber shop, and a hardware store. They all appeared to be closed.
At the far end of Main Street sat two separate buildings, one on either side of the road. On Richie’s side was a small restaurant, identified by a rectangular illuminated marquee sign that proclaimed “Tillie’s Place” in big black letters. Across the street from the restaurant sat a large, boxy building bearing twin roll-up doors on one side. Two gas pumps outside the glass-fronted half of the building and a big red-starred sign made it clear that this was the town service station. Richie frowned nervously as he saw no sign of activity around the pumps or in the garage.
Annie pulled the pickup into a parking space in front of the restaurant and killed the engine. Turning to smile at Richie, she nodded over her shoulder toward the station behind them. “That’s Eddie’s shop. C’mon… I’ll walk you over.”
Richie nodded silently and climbed out of the truck. He glanced at his bag and guitar in the bed, wondering if he should carry them with him across the street. As if reading his mind, Annie spoke up. “You can leave your stuff until you figure out what’s goin’ on.” She grinned again. “It ain’t gonna go nowhere.”
Richie gave her a little smile and nodded. “Okay.” Taking a breath, he followed Annabelle across the street. A worried frown turned his lips again when he saw the “Closed” sign in the front window of the service station’s office. He was only half-surprised when, ignoring the sign, Annie pulled open the unlocked glass door and stepped inside.
“Hey Eddie?” Her voice was sweet and friendly as she called out for the proprietor. “You around?”
“In back!” Richie heard a deep, distinctively Southern male voice reply. Not knowing what else to do, he followed Annabelle around the counter and through a door into the service bays. He stood uncomfortably just inside the doorway, looking around the cluttered garage while Annie strolled on ahead.
“Whatcha workin’ on?” Annie stopped in the middle of the big room and directed her question at the floor. Following her gaze, Richie realized there was a pair of legs sticking out from under the green Buick on the other side of the bay.
“Hey, Annie. I could tell ya….” There was a scraping sound as the man scooted out from under the car’s chassis, his body reclined on a wheeled creeper. “… but you wouldn’t understand a danged word of what I said.”
“That’s true.” Annie laughed. “That’s why I could never take a job here in your station.”
“You could pump gas and clean windshields,” Eddie grinned. “But beyond that, you wouldn’t be much use, Honey.” He sat up and wiped his hands on his thighs, leaving a smudge of grease on his stained blue work coveralls. Looking up, he noticed Richie standing by the door. Surprise registered on his ruddy, creased face, but his expression quickly turned to welcome.
“Hey there! Annie, why didn’t you tell me you brought a friend?” Eddie clambered to his feet and stepped toward Richie, extending his hand. “Eddie Duvall.”
“Hello, Sir.” Richie responded, accepting Eddie’s proffered hand. He smiled nervously as he answered the middle-aged mechanic. The weathered lines on his face, the gray at his temples, and the big rough hand that wrapped around his in a firm grip all reminded Richie of his Dad. So did the kind brown eyes that regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
“Eddie, this is Richie. His car broke down out on Route 20. He was hiking along the road so I gave him a lift into town.” Annie stepped over so she was standing beside Richie. “He thinks there’s something wrong with the engine.”
“That so?” Eddie raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “What kinda car is it?”
“A ‘62 Impala.” Richie replied. “It overheated, but once it cooled down I checked it out and can’t find anything loose or leaking.”
“Hmm.” Eddie mused. “Well, I can take a look at it and see what we’ve got.” He winked at Annabelle. “You out rescuing stray puppy dogs again?”
Annie giggled, her musical laughter making Richie smile through his unease. “Oh, stop it, Eddie. I’m just trying to do unto others.” She gave Richie a little grin. “Couldn’t leave this poor Yankee Boy stuck out there.” Her tease was as sweet as her soft drawl.
Eddie chuckled, then directed his question at Richie. “Think your car will start?”
Richie shook his head. “I doubt it.” He felt his gut tighten again as he wondered how much it was going to cost to have his car towed back to the garage in the morning. He was going to have to figure out some way to get the money to pay for the repairs, and fast. He really didn’t want to have to call his Dad and ask for help.
Eddie pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his coveralls and swiped it across his face. “Well, let’s go get her, then,” he declared. “Come on. I have a tow out back.”
Richie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Now? Umm… I thought you were closed?”
Annie chuckled. “I told you, Richie, we don’t turn away those in need.”
“That’s right, Son.” Eddie nodded. “Besides, if I know what kinda problem we’re looking at I can get goin’ on it first thing in the morning.”
Richie nodded his understanding. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
“Okay, so…” Annie moved for the door. “I gotta get to work, now that you’re in good hands.”
“Oh… let me come grab my stuff so you can go.” Richie moved to follow her.
Annie laughed. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere but across the street. I work at Tillie’s.” She gestured toward the little restaurant. “Just leave your stuff in my truck until you find out what’s what. Then come tell me about it and have some supper.”
Richie’s heart warmed at Annie’s directive, delivered in that sweet Southern drawl. He gave her a grateful smile and nodded. “Okay.”
Eddie chuckled at the exchange between the young people. It was obvious Richie didn’t know quite what to make of Annabelle. But Eddie would be willing to bet the pink slip to his prized dragster that Annie could convince Richie to walk on hot coals with just a wink and a smile. “Alright Son, let’s go.”
“Yes Sir.” With one more little smile for Annie, Richie followed Eddie toward the garage’s back door.
Annie watched him go, her eyes tracing over his long, lean body. There was something about Richie, a quiet melancholy that tugged at her heart. For some reason she felt like she needed to do more for him than just give him a ride into town.
She had known the second Richie spoke to her that he was a gentle but lonely soul. He needed someone to comfort him. Annie knew what that was like; she had been there herself. A little kindness goes a long way, she thought. The least she could do was keep Richie company for however long it took for Eddie to fix his car. Then he could be on his way, off to wherever he was headed.
Annie smiled and turned for the door. Time to go to work.
Sounds like Richie found a great place to break down...wonder where he's going to sleep tonight ;)
ReplyDeleteI'm in love with this already. My favorite stories are the ones where the guys are "nobody."
ReplyDeleteAnd young Richie. Yum. :)