Read Online Going Where It's Dark by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
Ads: Link
then the smile that traveled sideways.
“Got an idea, Buck,” he said. “Let’s go pay your mom a visit at Holly’s.”
•••
Whatever it was, Buck was ready—ready to forget this rotten, no-good day, and he was out the door even before Mel picked up his keys. He wished his uncle could drive the big semi he used for business home after each run, but he had to park it instead at the terminal in Roanoke, then drive his own car the rest of the way. It was fun the few times he’d let Buck sit up there in the passenger seat of the huge vehicle, though. Like riding around in a two-story building. Now he settled back in Mel’s Ford and buckled his seat belt.
“Anything h…happen on this l…last trip?” Buck asked.
“Nothing much to speak of. Some crazy fool with a U-Haul trying to play musical chairs with me just this side of Chicago and almost got himself killed. I go to pass a Honda, see, travelin’ along at sixty-five, and this guy’s right behind me like he’s riding my tailwind. I figure as soon as I pass the Honda and pull over, he’ll pass me and go barreling on up the road.”
“And what happened?”
“As soon as I see I’m clear, I start to pull over, but that’s not soon enough for the U-Haul. Instead of waiting for my rig to move over, he tries to pass me on the right. I see him disappear from my side-view window, and I’m thinking, ‘What the heck…?’ And then I hear the Honda blasting its horn and a squeal of brakes, and I realize the idiot with the U-Haul’s between me and the Honda, ’bout to be squeezed like a tin can.”
Uncle Mel reared back in his seat and wiped one hand on his thigh. “Makes me sweat just to think about it. I managed to pull back, just time enough that I didn’t squash him like a june bug. Him and his U-Haul too. And you know what? When he
does
go around and I let him pass, does he thank me for saving his life? He gives me the finger!”
Mel shrugged it off then and let out his breath. Finally he glanced over at Buck. “So how are things back here? You stop by Jacob’s while I was away?”
“Yeah. Put a p…patch on one of his s…screens. M…mopped the kitchen floor and stuff.” Buck had already decided not to tell his uncle about his conversation with Jacob that day. Instead, he asked, “What k…kind of w…w…work did he d…do before? You know?”
Mel shook his head. “Haven’t the slightest idea. I noticed one of his letters was addressed to a Dr. Jacob Wall, but there’s all kinds of doctors out there. Could’ve been a dentist, for all I know. But you’ll never get it out of him. Lucky he’ll even give you the time of day.”
Buck stared straight ahead and said nothing.
•••
Fifteen minutes later they pulled off the highway onto a side road that brought them into the back lot of Holly’s Homestyle Restaurant.
Buck tried to stop smiling as he went around and came through the front entrance, his Nationals cap backward on his head, as he usually wore it. Charlie, the short-order cook, raised a spatula in greeting and went on turning onion slices on the grill.
“How you doin’, Buck?” he called.
Doris Anderson, who was cleaning tabletops in the booths, looked up as Buck sat down at the counter.
“Well, hi!” she called, stopping to wipe one arm across her forehead. “You come out here on your bike?” The white apron she wore over her green and gray uniform had a few spots on it from serving the breakfast and lunchtime crowd, and Buck knew she hadn’t had a break yet because she always changed her apron at the break.
“G…got a ride,” he said, and braced his hands against the counter, scanning the menu on the wall. It wasn’t unusual for Buck to show up at the restaurant on a late afternoon when the place wasn’t busy. Not unusual for him to get a ride with someone going this way, and then ride home with Mom if she had the car, or with Dad if he came to pick her up.
Sometimes, if there was food left over from
“Got an idea, Buck,” he said. “Let’s go pay your mom a visit at Holly’s.”
•••
Whatever it was, Buck was ready—ready to forget this rotten, no-good day, and he was out the door even before Mel picked up his keys. He wished his uncle could drive the big semi he used for business home after each run, but he had to park it instead at the terminal in Roanoke, then drive his own car the rest of the way. It was fun the few times he’d let Buck sit up there in the passenger seat of the huge vehicle, though. Like riding around in a two-story building. Now he settled back in Mel’s Ford and buckled his seat belt.
“Anything h…happen on this l…last trip?” Buck asked.
“Nothing much to speak of. Some crazy fool with a U-Haul trying to play musical chairs with me just this side of Chicago and almost got himself killed. I go to pass a Honda, see, travelin’ along at sixty-five, and this guy’s right behind me like he’s riding my tailwind. I figure as soon as I pass the Honda and pull over, he’ll pass me and go barreling on up the road.”
“And what happened?”
“As soon as I see I’m clear, I start to pull over, but that’s not soon enough for the U-Haul. Instead of waiting for my rig to move over, he tries to pass me on the right. I see him disappear from my side-view window, and I’m thinking, ‘What the heck…?’ And then I hear the Honda blasting its horn and a squeal of brakes, and I realize the idiot with the U-Haul’s between me and the Honda, ’bout to be squeezed like a tin can.”
Uncle Mel reared back in his seat and wiped one hand on his thigh. “Makes me sweat just to think about it. I managed to pull back, just time enough that I didn’t squash him like a june bug. Him and his U-Haul too. And you know what? When he
does
go around and I let him pass, does he thank me for saving his life? He gives me the finger!”
Mel shrugged it off then and let out his breath. Finally he glanced over at Buck. “So how are things back here? You stop by Jacob’s while I was away?”
“Yeah. Put a p…patch on one of his s…screens. M…mopped the kitchen floor and stuff.” Buck had already decided not to tell his uncle about his conversation with Jacob that day. Instead, he asked, “What k…kind of w…w…work did he d…do before? You know?”
Mel shook his head. “Haven’t the slightest idea. I noticed one of his letters was addressed to a Dr. Jacob Wall, but there’s all kinds of doctors out there. Could’ve been a dentist, for all I know. But you’ll never get it out of him. Lucky he’ll even give you the time of day.”
Buck stared straight ahead and said nothing.
•••
Fifteen minutes later they pulled off the highway onto a side road that brought them into the back lot of Holly’s Homestyle Restaurant.
Buck tried to stop smiling as he went around and came through the front entrance, his Nationals cap backward on his head, as he usually wore it. Charlie, the short-order cook, raised a spatula in greeting and went on turning onion slices on the grill.
“How you doin’, Buck?” he called.
Doris Anderson, who was cleaning tabletops in the booths, looked up as Buck sat down at the counter.
“Well, hi!” she called, stopping to wipe one arm across her forehead. “You come out here on your bike?” The white apron she wore over her green and gray uniform had a few spots on it from serving the breakfast and lunchtime crowd, and Buck knew she hadn’t had a break yet because she always changed her apron at the break.
“G…got a ride,” he said, and braced his hands against the counter, scanning the menu on the wall. It wasn’t unusual for Buck to show up at the restaurant on a late afternoon when the place wasn’t busy. Not unusual for him to get a ride with someone going this way, and then ride home with Mom if she had the car, or with Dad if he came to pick her up.
Sometimes, if there was food left over from
Similar Books
