Captured Again (9 page)

She stared hard at it, wondering how time had passed so quickly—yet so slowly—since the accident. Something niggled at her brain... trying to capture her attention or remind her of something. She couldn’t wrap her head around this...
something.
The harder she tried, the more her mind and body protested. She stood there staring, and thinking in circles, until she felt her façade starting to slip. Her hands started shaking and her breathing picked up. The room began to spin. She pulled her attention away from the calendar, giving up, and plopped down into her chair, dropping her bag at her feet and holding her head in her hands, trying to keep it together.
Focus, Gabby... focus,
she wordlessly repeated in her mind.

She abruptly stood up and ripped down the calendar from her wall that hadn’t been flipped since the month of their accident, dumping it unceremoniously into her wastebasket, and put her attention to arranging the simple daisies and baby’s breath—her favorite—in a small vase she kept at the office, then poured a bottle of room-temperature water into the vase. She turned to toss the empty bottle in the trashcan and gasped, startled at the sight of the new guy, Tom, leaning in her doorway. She was still jumpy after René, probably always would be.

Gabby had forgotten Tom’s new employee orientation was to have begun that morning. She rushed him in and got him started on his paperwork right away, apologizing for the delay. He smiled and said it wasn’t a problem, and he told her he’d enjoyed watching the camaraderie while he waited. He seemed sincere, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes, and his gaze seemed to penetrate inside her, as if telling her he could see she was doing this as much for the guys as she was herself, but he wouldn’t call her out on it.

But something felt weird. She’d never met him—someone had just passed her the transfer form for processing—but it was almost like he knew something she didn’t... or maybe like he thought they had an unspoken secret. But if they did, she wasn’t aware of it. She tried to shake off the feeling, but still it remained, leaving her skittish with him.

She nervously walked him through his paperwork and then stepped over to the copier in the corner, not liking having to turn her back to him to make copies of his identification. She could feel his eyes on her and fought the urge to snap at him to stop looking.
Keep it together, Gabby. Relax and smile,
she reminded herself.

She finished the copies and stepped back behind her desk, keeping it between them. She felt silly at her reaction to this stranger; he’d been nothing but polite and business-like to her, but she was unable to find a smile for him.

“Your benefits don’t change. Everything’s the same except for your location and who you report to, but I’ve included a handbook and benefits guide in this package anyway,” she said stiffly as she passed him a large manila envelope. “Any questions?”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “I guess not.”

“Follow me, then,” Gabby instructed and led him out the door. Since Tom was a transfer, coming directly in from another location to replace a shift supervisor, he basically just needed to learn the layout of this facility and the names of his crew. She hoped he hadn’t felt her rushing through his orientation. She breathed a sigh of relief when he was delivered to the floor manager and off of her hands.

Finally, she was able to get back to her office—alone—and dive into the stacks of too-long neglected reports and mounds of paper in her to-do-later tray.

CHAPTER 12

Gabby
finished up what seemed like months of loose-end paperwork, happy with the productivity of her day. She neatened her desk and gathered her things, hoping to keep the momentum going long enough to hurry home and do some long-ignored chores there too. Before she left, she picked up her flower vase, checking to be sure there was enough water, hoping to keep the cheery flowers alive a few more days.

That’s odd,
Gabby thought.
I didn’t see that before.
In the middle of the bouquet of flowers was a decorative dragonfly. She attempted to pluck it out, but it wasn’t as easy as it seemed. It was held in place by a long, stiff wire and the greenery had tangled around the wire. In removing it, she pulled several daisies and a few little sprays of baby’s breath with it, making a mess on her desk. Holding it up closer to her eyes, the details were astonishing; it was a beautiful, tiny dragonfly—iridescent in color—and seemed a very extravagant decoration for a ten-dollar bouquet she’d picked up at the grocery store.

I can’t believe I didn’t see this before,
she thought.

Pleased at her find, she pinched the wire off and dropped the dragonfly into a side pocket of her purse, thinking she could make it into something later... a pendant, garnish on a wrapped present, or something. As much as her family loved dragonflies, she could definitely use it somewhere.

She tucked the daisies and baby’s breath back into the arrangement and wiped the scattered blooms off of her desk into her wastebasket along with the scrap of wire. Grabbing her bag, she was ready. She closed her office door and headed out across the plant floor.

“See ya guys tomorrow!” Gabby yelled, throwing up a hand on her way out the door to the new batch of guys that had switched over at 3:30. The plant schedule was split into shifts: 7:00 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. and 3:30 p.m. to midnight, while her day was a straight 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., allowing some crossover so she could be available for both shifts. She’d made it through an entire day without falling apart, instead jumping back into her regular routine of months ago. She was in great spirits. She made her way to the parking lot, automatically headed toward her regular parking spot while digging in her bag for her keys. When her fingers found them, she pulled them out and looked up, surprised to find herself facing the only other female that had been in Jake’s life.
Ruby.

The unwashed, old Chevy pickup truck sat there as a stark reminder—almost a slap in the face—and she’d gotten so caught up in her prolific day, she’d forgotten. Her life wasn’t routine anymore. It was changed. The proof of it was staring at her, looking forlorn and lonely without the presence of its master. She mentally kicked herself for not agreeing to borrow Mom’s car, as Nick had repeatedly offered, until she could get a vehicle of her own.

She’d stubbornly let Jake’s truck sit in the garage alone until she’d found the nerve to go back to work. The first day she’d felt good enough to leave the house, she’d walked into the garage, expecting to see her own car, and was shocked with the reminder that her car—like her life—was destroyed in the accident. She’d numbly driven Jake’s truck since then, nearly a month ago now, but only short distances—to work and the doctor’s office—and had avoided really looking at it or thinking about it. Until now.

The heat beat down on the concrete, blasting back onto Gabby as she stood there, her bag over her shoulder, and Jake’s keys in her hand, facing the old ‘57 Chevy—Ruby—and all the memories she held.

She could still see herself, full and happy, riding alongside Jake years ago. They’d been out for a ride one evening after dinner and found themselves meandering down unfamiliar dirt roads, winding through acres and acres of scenic farmland, when they’d come across an old, dilapidated barn. As usual, she’d been insistent that Jake stop so she could take some pictures; she’d always found beauty in barns—old or new—but especially in ramshackle, nearly-falling-down barns. She remembered Jake reminding her to be careful as she’d hurried out of the car before him, her camera in hand, eager to catch a great shot in the quickly falling twilight.

She’d been lost in the smell of the old wood and hay and the mystique of the old barn just nestled out there amongst the long patchwork quilt of fields they’d driven by—abandoned and forgotten. On one end of the barn, Gabby had been delighted to find the weeds and underbrush had fought and lost a battle with a nearby wisteria tree; big purple bunches of its flowers hung, draped against the old white-washed wood, smothering the old-barn smell with perfume. The wisteria had added the perfect pop of color to what Gabby hoped would turn out to be beautiful spring pictures. As she’d walked around the barn, she’d pictured black and whites of a stark background of winter, too. She remembered thinking she would definitely be back.

After she’d snapped a dozen or so pictures, she’d turned around, expecting to find Jake standing behind her, following closely as he usually did when she was lost behind the lens, always circling as much of the barns as she could, taking chances on different angles—but he hadn’t been there.

She’d called out his name several times before hearing a faint reply from inside the barn. Gabby had made her way around the other side, carefully pulling aside thorns and brambles to peer into the largest opening. It had taken her eyes a moment to adjust to the shadows and find him, but when she did, she saw Jake had found an old, forgotten truck. Standing behind him, she’d watched him swipe away debris and what looked like old nests—belonging to who knows what kind of critters—and gaze at the motor, oblivious to nearly everything around him.

“What is it, Jake?” she’d asked him.

“She’s a jewel, Gabby. A real jewel,” he’d answered while continuing to stare into the hood, barely noticing her. She’d watched him walk around to the side of the truck, squatting and duck-walking sideways, slowly running his big hands all the way from the front to the sides. Her eyes had been drawn to him, his strong back and muscular shoulders standing out, clearly outlined through his T-shirt pulled taut and tucked into his tight, faded jeans. Jake had still taken her breath away, even then in the shadows of the barn. He defined maleness.

She’d stood mesmerized by the ebb and flow of his hands across the doors, stroking toward and over the rounded-out, plump tire wells, over obvious holes eaten away by rust as if they weren’t even there, instead his hands sliding smoothly over, imagining what would be—could be—and finishing his caress where the bumper would have been, if only it had one.

He’d sighed a few times. Gabby remembered feeling a pang of jealousy; she hadn’t ever seen Jake touch anything like that before—other than her. He’d called the truck a she, which just added to the twinge of envy that had crept up to surprise Gabby. She’d never been jealous before, but then again, he’d never given her any reason to be. She’d shaken it off and laughed at herself. Turning green over a silly old truck was ridiculous.

He’d then looked back up at Gabby with a faraway look in his eyes, pleading his case without another word spoken. He always could undo her with just a look.

“She looks pretty beat up to me, Jake. Gonna take a lot of work to fix that old girl.” Gabby had tried to reason while poking a little fun at him that he’d already chosen a gender.

“Oh, great day, Gabby. Use your imagination. She’s got nice bones. She could be a real beauty. She just needs some TLC,” Jake had insisted. He’d run his hand through his hair and Gabby could see him constructing his plans even before he’d known if it could be his. “I want her, Gab,” he’d said wistfully, looking back at the beat-up old truck.

Jake had never asked for much; he was a low-maintenance kind of guy. A good hunting rifle, a bow, and some ammo or arrows here and there. At Christmas he always asked for some camo and hunting gear, and he was happy. It was rare he spent any money at all on himself. But it went both ways. Gabby didn’t spend either.
Did she?
As she’d thought about it, she realized her spending was definitely more than Jake’s if she added up all the little things here and there she’d picked up for the house and the quick stops on her lunch break to run in and grab a new blouse or jeans—or God forbid, shoes! When Gabby thought about how many pairs of shoes she’d stock-piled over their years together, she had realized she’d usually been the one to spend any extra money, what little there was of it.

She hadn’t the heart to remind him they didn’t have a lot of extra money to spend at one time for any big projects or remind him of their plan to stay out of debt, other than their house payment. She’d found a way to always get what she needed—or wanted—so now, they’d just have to find a way to rebuild that truck. She couldn’t have said no to his hopeful face.

“Okay, Jake. But... it might not even be for sale. Let’s start with just trying to find the owner. If we end up bringing her home,
she
better not try to replace me,” she’d teased.

That discovery had started an adventure for them, from finding the owner of the old dilapidated barn and truck, to endless scavenger hunts together. Jake enjoying dragging Gabby to overcrowded junkyards and flea markets, always digging around for any original parts, and Gabby enjoying just being with him, seeing his boyish excitement at finding something as random as the perfect rusty rearview mirror. It had taken a year of weekends and a lot of sacrifices to afford it, but Jake finished a full restoration of the red ‘57 Chevy truck, completely by himself—with some help from Gabby.

He’d named her Ruby, reminding Gabby that he’d told her at first sight she’d be a jewel.

They had fun doing the project together and Jake was ecstatic at how good she’d turned out. But after driving her for a year, he said he missed the time he and Gabby had spent working on her, and he was itching for a new project. He’d come one day and told Gabby they were beginning another adventure, and using the same truck, he and Gabby had changed it into a full-blown, custom hot rod. He’d dug up a fatty and installed the big 454, tying it into a 4-speed Muncy, completing her with a wild new paint job. He didn’t strip Ruby of her trademark red, but added new orange, yellow, and black ghost flames starting from the grill and working their way to her hood and her sides. Even Gabby had to admit that when Jake had finished with her, she was a work of art.

Now she was glad she’d been there every step of the way, from handing him tools, to helping him pick the colors of the paint. She’d held this and turned that, and thousands of other little tasks to help Jake. Even when he hadn’t needed her, she’d preferred to hang out in the garage with him and Ruby, bringing an old pillow from inside the house to sit comfy on the concrete garage floor, watching him work—just to be near him—to be a part of his and Ruby’s world. And when she purred again in her new duds, they’d made countless late-night drives—and stops—making memories in the moonlit Chevy.