Chapter 9 - The Future She Left Behind

“You’re beating the hell out of that muffler.”

Jackson pushed his creeper out from beneath the van he’d been tinkering with since lunchtime. “For a man of God, you use the word hell out of context a lot.” Jackson sat up and reached for the can of Dr Pepper he’d set by the rear tire.

“And you drink too much of that stuff. Soda’s not healthy for you.”

Neither was alcohol. “Better than the alternative.” He noted the dark circles beneath the seventy-year-old preacher’s eyes. The loss of his wife this past winter weighed heavy on Vern, and his stooped frame stole an inch from his five-foot-ten height.

Vern made himself comfortable on the gold plaid sofa Jackson had purchased from Gifford’s Resale next door. He’d put the couch in the garage so Vern would have a place to sit and shoot the breeze when he stopped by every day. “You get into it with Abby again?” Jackson asked.

“I don’t understand how my daughter got to be so opinionated.”

The few times Jackson had run into Abby after she’d arrived in town to keep an eye on her father, he’d gotten the impression she was a woman who spoke her mind—like the preacher. “What’s Abby upset about now?”

“She says I smell.”

Jackson grinned. “Did you run out of Old Spice?”

“Abby hid my cologne and won’t give it back unless I shower before bed. How can I stink that bad when I sit around all day?”

Vern didn’t know that Jackson had been the one to beg Abby to return to town a month after her mother’s funeral, because he’d been terrified his sponsor would pick up the bottle again. Abby had taken a leave of absence from her job in Dallas and moved back to Little Springs to pull Vern out of his depression.

“Missed you at the meeting this morning.” Vern cleared his throat, the gravelly sound echoing through the cinder block garage. “Thought it might have to do with Katelyn being back in town.”

Vern knew Jackson better than Jackson knew himself. “Nope,” he lied. He’d skipped the Friday AA gathering because he hadn’t been able to focus since Katelyn had arrived on Monday. Every time he walked past the open bay doors, he glanced outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of her driving by or eating at Mama’s Kitchen across the street.

“I’m running behind on this repair job.” Jackson held the old man’s stare. Seeing Katelyn at Birdie’s house had shaken him. She’d looked as pretty as his memory of her. The angles of her face were sharper, more defined. She still had brown hair, but the strands were mixed with gold highlights now. Faint lines fanned from the outer corners of her eyes—eyes that were missing the spark he’d been drawn to back in high school. Katelyn had grown into a sophisticated, beautiful woman no one would ever guess had come from this Podunk town.

“Yesterday Sadie had breakfast at Mama’s Kitchen, and since Ginny runs the place, she hears all the latest gossip. Birdie told her that Katelyn answered the door when you returned the lawn mower.”

“I’ve got to get this van put back together by tomorrow,” Jackson said, hinting again that he didn’t care to discuss Katelyn.

“What did you two talk about?”

He wasn’t surprised Vern wouldn’t let the subject drop, because Jackson had spilled his guts to him years ago and had confessed how messed up he’d gotten after Katelyn had ended their relationship.

“Sadie said Katelyn brought her mother-in-law with her and Birdie’s not happy about that.”

Jackson guzzled the rest of the soda, then climbed to his feet and pitched the can into the trash. He glanced out the open bay door, his gaze traveling down the street to the Buy & Bag, where Birdie worked. She’d stopped by the garage two weeks ago and asked him if he’d take a look at her broken mower. He’d been happy to help, but it hadn’t been easy resisting the urge to ask about Katelyn.

“Can the church count on you to set up the tents for the Fourth of July chili cook-off?” Vern asked.

“Sure.”

“Gary mentioned a band from Odessa might play before the fireworks.”

“You’ve got too much time on your hands, old man. You need to get back to preaching.” After Elaine had been diagnosed with cancer, Vern had turned the pulpit over to the much younger Reverend Billy Ray Sanders and his wife, June. The handoff was supposed to have been temporary—until Vern regained his enthusiasm for God’s word—but so far his excitement extended only to attending Sunday services as a parishioner at the Grace Community Church.

“Might get a trim today,” Vern said.

“You keep getting a haircut at Sadie’s and you’ll turn into a Chatty Cathy like all the grayheads at the beauty shop.” Vern went to the salon once a week, not because he needed to, but because he missed having a woman fuss over him—his daughter, Abby, badgered.

“We could use another judge for the cooking competition. Ginny thinks she’s an expert on chili recipes.”

Jackson would not be attending the festivities. He moved away from the door and stretched out on the creeper, then pushed himself under the van.

“You’re stronger than you think, son.”

Jackson was stronger, but he didn’t want to test that strength. “You know crowds aren’t my thing.”

“You’ve been sober for a long time. Maybe you’ve gotten over your fear.”

“Back off, Vern.” Jackson would love to partake in the town’s celebration, but being around people made him nervous and fed his insecurities.

It hadn’t been easy making friends growing up in Little Springs. No one had wanted to hang out with the offspring of the town drunk. The kid whose mother had ditched him and his father in search of a better life. The only time Jackson had had friends as a teenager had been when he’d brought booze to a party. This Fourth of July he’d stick to drinking Dr Pepper and watching the fireworks from the window of his apartment over the garage.

Vern’s cell phone played Willie Nelson’s “Always on My Mind”—the ringtone he’d told Jackson that he’d assigned to his daughter’s number.

“You gonna answer that?” Jackson asked.

“Nope.”

He pushed himself out from beneath the van. “If you don’t, Abby will call me.”

Vern shrugged.

Stubborn geezer. Willie’s voice cut off and a moment later Jackson’s phone chimed. “Hello, Abby.”

“Is he with you?”

“He’s watching me work on a car.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.” Her voice wobbled.

Afraid he’d get caught in another father-daughter squabble, Jackson said, “He’s heading over to Sadie’s for a haircut. Then he’ll be home.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“You bet.” He disconnected the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. “Your daughter loves you.”

“I know.”

Abby had been a freshman in college when Vern took over as the minister of the only church in Little Springs. She hadn’t grown up in this town and she’d confessed to Jackson more than once that she was going stir-crazy here. “Maybe it’s time for Abby to return to Dallas.” He popped his head out from beneath the front fender. “Can you keep away from the bottle if she leaves?” Jackson swallowed hard at the thought of Vern falling off the wagon. The old man had been like a father to him.

“I only had a few drinks after Elaine died. Haven’t touched another drop since and I don’t plan to.”

“Then let Abby go. I know you like having her around, but she misses her job.” She’d confided as much to Jackson a month after she’d arrived on her father’s doorstep.

Vern stood. “You’re one to lecture about letting go when you haven’t forgotten Katelyn after all these years.” He walked out the bay door without saying good-bye.

Jackson had never forgotten Katelyn—not even the dark years of drinking had erased her from his memory. As much as he’d love to spend time with her while she was in town, he worried that dredging up old memories would trigger the insecurities that had caused him to drink in the first place. He’d been sober for a little over three years now and owned a business. The thought of jeopardizing all that should be enough to convince him to keep his distance from her.

In the grand scheme of things, what did it really matter if he was lonely?