Emma vs. The Tech Guy (11 page)

Our eyes locked and Jayne seemed to be weighing her options before she burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, Emma. I don’t know what I expected. It was wrong for me to put you on the spot.”

I giggled. “It’s okay, Jaynie girl.” Then I put my arm around her. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m so confused about all this, and Mr. Humphries was so nice to me, and—I don’t know. I just wanted to have some fun. Be happy for a while. Is that so wrong?”

“Of course not. You deserve happiness more than anyone I know.” I glanced around the room to find Mr. Humphries writing on one of the clipboards. “So what’s his first name, any way?”

Jayne shrugged and said, “I don’t know.”

We both fell out laughing again. Over her shoulder I noticed a giant basket floating our way. Relief fell over me, then quickly gave way to curiosity when I couldn’t see who was behind it. Jayne excused herself to catch up with Mr. Humphries. I waited for the basket to make its way over to me.

“Here you go,” Guy said. He set the basket down and looked at me with a Gomer Pyle grin and a shiny forehead. Clearly he enjoyed saving the day.

“Guy? What are you doing here?”

“I was at the office when this was delivered. Then Nannette called and asked if I would drop it off.” He swept the back of his hand across his forehead, dragging dark curls that bounced right back into place. I was surprised to see him dressed so formally, wearing a white, short-sleeved shirt, possibly silk, and a pair of khaki dress slacks.

I wondered if I’d once again ruined some plans for the evening. “Thanks. I can’t believe you drove all the way over here.”

“It was no trouble, really. I didn’t have any plans.” He glanced around the room as if he’d just discovered his surroundings. “This place is great. Do you go to church here?”

“Yeah,” I said. It was an absent-minded response, since I was still hung up on the way he looked after he said he didn’t have plans. “Are you sure I’m not keeping you? You’re always in jeans at the office.”

“No.” He shifted his weight and shook his head. “I’m mean Yeah. My niece, Chloe. I volunteer at her school once a week in the computer lab. She’s only in the second grade, but she likes me to dress up.”

I could imagine why. “That’s very cool of you.”

“I enjoy being around the kids. And hopefully they don’t notice that I really only have two dress shirts.” He smiled and shrugged. “I rotate them every other week.”

“I doubt they notice.”

“So where’s your grandpa?”

I motioned toward the back door with my head. “See those two old guys over there trying act all Dirty Harry?” Lou nodded as people walked by, while Pop leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Lou spotted me and gave two quick whistles. I shook my head in response.

“Yeah,” Guy said.

“The one leaning against the wall is my Pop, Ed.”

“I’d like to meet him some time.”

That caught me off guard and my response was probably not the most polite. “Yeah, some time. Well, I’m going to make sure we’re all set here so you don’t have to stay. And thanks again.” I began to check over the contents of the basket, comparing it to the list provided on the table, and felt Guy still standing behind me.

“I think I’ll take a look around before I take off,” he said.

I didn’t turn around. Our basket was already late. “Have fun.”

Guy wondered off, and I couldn’t stop myself from glancing back at him. It must have been the outfit.

Once the basket was set, I joined Pop and Lou. Then the three of us checked out the other offerings. Lou took off early, so Pop and I had burgers out on the patio. I needed to get home to finish packing for my trip, but I felt Pop would appreciate the extra time with me. I could tell he was disappointed Mrs. Elwood never showed, but I didn’t bring it up.

“I appreciate this, Emma Jean, but I know you’ve got stuff to do.”

I saw that look in his eye. The one he always gets when I’m going to be gone. “It’s only a few days, Pop.”

“I know.”

Another reminder that I was all Pop had made me wish Mrs. Elwood had shown after all. Before I could say anything he spoke again.

“Can I say something?”

The expression on his face was enough for me. “Not if it’s what I think you’re going to say.”

“Emma Jean, I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to be. Everything’s fine.” I sipped my soda and stared at a tree swaying in the breeze. A tiny bird sat on a thin branch riding up and down with the blowing wind.

“I just want you to be happy—and I wouldn’t mind being a great-grandpa someday, either.”

I turned my attention back to him and smiled. “I am happy, Pop. But right now I can’t think about anything else but the magazine.”

“Seems like that’s all it’s been for a long time.”

My smile faded, and my shoulders sank. Pop’s disappointment was something he didn’t show often, but it was a lethal weapon when he chose to use it.

“And what about Howie?” he continued. “Is he happy?”

“Yes, I think so. I don’t know. Can we not get into this now? You know I’ve got a huge couple of days ahead of me.”

“All I’m saying is that you two need to get your priorities straight.”

There was nothing more I could say, so I did the only thing I could think of. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” he said, brushing crumbs from his hands.

“You like being alone?” My raised eyebrows told him I now had the upper hand.

“I do all right. And besides, I’ve got the boys.”

“Do they cuddle with you at night too?”

“Well, sometimes Lou does. But he snores.” He bit down on his straw and feigned innocence.

“I’m serious, Pop. I know you stayed single for me. But I’ve been out of the house for a long time.”

“First of all, don’t give yourself too much credit, Missy. I went on dates when you were younger. Not many, but I did go. Just haven’t met the right girl.”

“Well ….”

“Well, what?” He cocked his head as if he had no idea what I was talking about.

“What about Mrs. Elwood?”

“She’s a sweet old lady, but she’s got no interest in someone like me.”

“What do you mean, someone like you? She’d be lucky to have you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a tiny squeeze. “I know I was. Let’s go, huh?”

We walked arm-in-arm to the car. But when I got in and turned the key, it wouldn’t start.

Chapter 12

It was obvious the battery was dead. How dead was another story. Pop had a little experience with cars, so he took a look. He was one of those stubborn types of men that think they should be able to fix anything. Wait, wasn’t that every man? Actually, in Pop’s case, that’s what usually happened. I remember one time when I was about seven years old. I dropped my Buzz Lightyear toy gun in the toilet. Yes, I played with guns when I was little. He was shaving next me, snatched it in two seconds. But it didn’t make the cool shooting noise any more. Pop took the whole thing apart, blew dry each piece, and reassembled it. He became my hero that day as I ran through the house shooting everything in sight and reveling in the joy of that high-pitched shooting sound. I’m sure it drove him nuts.

But on this day, Pop was stumped. “Not much we can do at this point except try to get a jump and see if that works,” he said.

If it didn’t, we’d be SOL, since Howard was probably still at the airport. He had taken Emilia, who was going to visit their parents. Knowing Howard, he’d wait until he saw her heading down the runway toward the plane. Maybe Emilia would talk some sense into their father while she was there.

We went back in the church to find Jayne and Mr. Humphries. I didn’t know which one of them had driven. Geez, who knew if Mr. Humphries had a license. I pictured him driving one of those scooters with Jayne riding on his lap.

We stopped in the doorway and scanned around the room. “There’s Jayne,” I said, pointing to a corner of the room. From where we stood she looked like she was watching paint dry on the floor. We headed in her direction, and as we got closer, I saw what she was staring at. Not many people surprise me, but lately one person has suspended my disbelief on more than one occasion. Guy and Mr. Humphries sat at a small table against the wall playing chess. Mr. Humphries had his elbow on the table and propped his chin on his fist. Guy had one hand in his lap and the other suspended over the board as if the next move would win the World Series of Chess. He spotted us, gave me a tiny wink, and then moved his piece. That small gesture lit a spark in me, causing goose bumps to form on my arm. I hoped no one noticed.

“Hey, what are you two doing back?” Jayne said.

“Our car won’t start. We wanted to see if you could give us a jump.”

“Sure,” Jayne said. She smiled and then turned to Mr. Humphries. “Okay?”

I guess he hadn’t been to the Scooter Store after all.

Guy popped up from his chair. “I’ll do it. You two have dinner reservations, right?” he said to his new best bud, Mr. Humphries.

Jayne’s mouth fell open. She waited on me for direction, but I shrugged. Too much to process.

I didn’t know what threw me more—the fact that Jayne was going to dinner with Mr. Humphries, that Guy was instant friends with Jayne and Hugh Hefner, or the thought of Guy having to come to my rescue. “I, uh.”

“Thanks, Guy,” Pop said. Then he stuck out his hand. “I’m Ed.”

“Great to meet you, sir.” Guy said.

The moniker seemed genuine. It made me smile as the two shook hands.

We all said our goodbyes, and Guy and Mr. Humphries exchanged cell numbers. Then Guy followed us out to the parking lot. He said his experience with cars consisted of driving them and one summer in high school working as a lot boy. He jogged across the church’s parking lot and got in a charcoal gray Ford F150—not what I’d expected. I popped the hood while he pulled around. Then I got out to let the men be men.

Guy hooked up the cables, jumped in his truck, and started it up. Pop got in my car, a light gray Mazda 3, and turned the key. An annoying clicking that sounded like hundreds of dollars emptying from my bank account ensued. The two got out and huddled at the front of my car.

“Why didn’t it start?” I asked no one in particular. I started running through options for getting home in my mind.

“Good question,” Pop said. He shook his head and stared down at the engine alongside Guy.

“Could be the starter, alternator, or maybe the battery is so drained it won’t jump,” Guy said.

“I thought you didn’t know anything about cars?” I said.

“I’ve had a few problems of my own, and I catch on pretty quick. I’m not just a computer geek, you know.”

“I never said that.”

“So, do you have a habit of leaving your lights on?” he asked.

Pop’s eyebrows shot up, lips pursed. He backed away, didn’t want to become a casualty. “I’m going to sit in the car while you two figure this thing out. I’ll call Howie and see if he’s home yet.”

Pop’s voice faded as I homed in on Guy. “Do I seem like the type of girl that leaves her lights on?” My arms folded.

Guy sucked in air as if he had words to let out, but I continued.

“What do you think, I’m some idiot that doesn’t know the difference between on and off?”

Guy shook his head in quick motions like a dog flicking the water off his fur. His deflated expression softened me. I wasn’t normally a defensive person, but on the other hand, I didn’t like to be talked down to.

“I never said that,” he said sarcastically, mimicking my earlier sentiments.

I reminded myself that Mr. Do-gooder was only trying to help, but the damage from my spewing was already done.

“Hey, sorry about that.” I joined him at the front of the car; the still-open hood shaded us from the setting sun. “I guess I’m a little stressed because we’re leaving tomorrow, and I don’t need this to deal with, too.”

“No worries. I can give you two a lift home.”

I closed my teeth around my bottom lip, wondering if that was my only option.

“Pop?” I called. What did Howard say?”

Pop stuck his head out the window. “Flight was delayed. He’ll be home late.”

“Figures,” I said more to myself.

Guy turned to face me. “I don’t mind, really.”

He never seemed to mind anything. When my eyes turned down and noticed the bottom of his shirt sporting a huge grease stain on it, I hoped that was true. It must have brushed up against the engine when he turned.

“Uh … you’ve got some—” I pointed down at his shirt, remembering he’d said he had only one other nice one.

“Aw, crap.” He lifted the hem as if he needed a closer look.

“I’m really sorry about all this,” I said.

“It’s not your fault.” Guy shook it off pretty quickly. “C’mon.” He gave me a little nudge back with his forearm and closed the hood. “Let’s get you two home. Guess you’ll have to get this towed to a garage or something.”

Pop said he and Howard would work it out, since I’d be leaving early the next day. I hadn’t noticed before that Guy’s truck only had a front seat, and the three of us piled in with me in the middle. We were so close, we each had to raise a butt cheek to let the other buckle in. With my arm pressed against his, I dared not move. Through the corner of my eye I saw him looking down at me, but I kept my gaze forward and willed him to start the car.

As we headed toward the freeway, the awkward silence poked at me like I was a caged bear. Pop was no help—he just stared out the window and turned to smile at me every few minutes.

I glanced around the truck, checking for old beer cans and pizza cartons, but found nothing but an air freshener dangling from the cigarette lighter. The interior was almost as clean and organized as the inside of my house. A case housing cds was mounted under the dash. As I scanned the selections I noticed something. First came Beatles greatest hits, Bob Marley, Chris Daughtry, and Green Day. Then an empty space, followed by more bands, and ending with Pink and Red Hot Chili Peppers. Nice selections, but what impressed me even more was that they were in alpha order. I suppressed a smile, thinking how Guy couldn’t decide if he was a nerd or ladies man. He wore them both well, I decided. When I turned and glanced down at the grease on his shirt, I couldn’t hold it back any longer. A laugh that sounded like a suppressed sneeze escaped me.