The Hero's Redemption
He nodded. He didn’t remember those things, but he doubted most drivers actually did. Memorization came easily to him. The thought of getting behind the wheel of a car… Around town, it would be fine. Probably even feel good. The freeway… Cole doubted he was ready for that.
“I think I should go for the permit. It’s been a long time since I’ve driven.”
Nobody had warned him how fast the world moved. How hard it was to tamp down his oversensitivity to danger. A flicker seen out of the corner of his eye made him want to whip around. There was no danger in here, but he still struggled to distinguish voices, to watch everyone. He kept an eye on the parking lot outside the window.
He wanted to go home, but took a bite instead.
“Best pizza in town.” Erin wiped her mouth with a napkin and reached for her drink.
“It’s good.”
“Did you take driver’s ed?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Man, he hadn’t appreciated the guts that instructor must have had. Nerves of steel. Almost smiling, Cole felt his tension ease.
“Me, too.” She laughed. “After about two sessions, I figured I had it down pat. My father did not agree.”
“Mine was the same.” World War III whenever they’d gone out. Cole realized he’d already been turning into a butt. When he struck out the first time he took the driver’s test, Dad ramped up the pressure. By the time Cole was allowed to take it again, he wasn’t a half-bad driver, thanks to his father.
“The trouble is, you get so cocky.” Erin sounded sad, but gave herself a shake. “I’m sure it’s like riding a bike. It’ll come back.”
Yeah, he thought she was right.
“Either tomorrow or Sunday we can go by the high school or middle school,” she suggested. “You can get the feel of my Cherokee before we head out onto the road.”
He finished another slice. “You’re paying me to work.”
“By the time we do errands, buy the lumber for the stairs and unload it, you won’t want to start, anyway.”
That was true. He didn’t love the prospect of her watching critically as he relearned to drive, but he had to live with it.
“Did you ever operate heavy equipment?” she asked. “I mean, when you were doing construction?”
“Bulldozer and forklift. That’s not really like driving a car.”
Conversation drifted. He would’ve eaten in silence, but he liked listening to her talk. Watching her, too. She had such an expressive face, her eyes changing color with her mood, her lips curving or pouting, her nose often wrinkling. He liked the tiny dimple that formed beside her mouth when she smiled. It was hard not to wonder whether her hair was silky or coarser, how soft that fine skin would feel to his fingertips, whether she ever smiled when she kissed a man. Looking—that felt safe. Whenever he imagined touching her, though, he got aroused, and that was dangerous.
She started talking about the garden her grandmother had tended so lovingly until her health failed.
“My grandfather had a vegetable garden in back.” She smiled. “I had no idea that corn and peas taste better when they’re really fresh.”
He nodded.
“That’s a lot of work, though. I’d like to restore some of Nanna’s flower beds. I’ve read about old roses. I think I’ll look into whether there’s a local nursery that sells them.”
What made a rose “old” versus “new” he couldn’t guess. Right now, he just let her talk.
“I want climbing roses in front of the porch. White and pink. And maybe one on the south side of the house that reaches up to my bedroom.” She focused on him. “I could have you build a trellis.”
“I can do that.” Once he found out what she had in mind. “There’s one rose still alive in front. The canes are pretty long, so I think it must be a climber.”
Erin nodded. “I’m hoping that’s the pink rose I remember. One of her two climbers always got rust or black spot or something. She was constantly spraying it.”
“It’s probably the one that didn’t survive.”
She brightened. “That’s true.”