Two days later, Dani slumped in the pew beside Vic during evening service. They'd missed that morning, something they hadn't done in as long as Dani could remember. The singing, the sermon, all white noise. Dani's mind was elsewhere.
At some point, Pastor Stenger must have called them forward. She barely remembered walking to the front, Vic's hand under her elbow, as the pastor explained that a Humvee had fallen from a lift. Tony, as everyone at church knew him, had pushed two other mechanics out of harm's way, but the vehicle had crushed both his legs. He wouldn't be coming home for at least a couple months and, when he did, it was unlikely he would ever walk again.
Should probably close my eyes, Dani thought as the pastor started to pray. Shelly looked down every time Dani looked over at her. Everyone else's heads were bowed until they all said, "Amen."
After the service, well-wishers with questions she couldn't answer bombarded Dani from every side until Vic whisked her off to the truck. He talked as he drove, but he may as well have been talking into the air. He'd been talking nonstop since yesterday.
Just trying to get me out of my funk.
"What did you do with my car?" It was the first time she'd thought about it since she heard the news about Daddy and her voice came off sharper than she'd intended. She immediately felt dumb for asking.
Vic took his time before answering in a clipped tone. "It's at the shop. Broke down while I took Mr. Wilkins out for a ride."
"Without asking me?"
"He's our best customer."
At least he didn't sell it. Would've served me right. She hated to admit it, but he was being pretty cool. He hadn't even mentioned her taking Daddy's car or how late she'd been out Friday night. Of course, she hadn't volunteered that information, either. She half wished he'd ask.
"Going to take a while to get the parts," Vic said, matter-of-fact.
Dani shrugged and retreated into her funk.
"C'mon, get mad about it. Get something. I almost sold it. Mr. Wilkins took back his offer when it threw a rod."
Funk over. If he was looking for emotion, he'd found the right button to push.
"My car?"
"Title says Fidelis, sis."
She glared straight ahead. "Daddy gave that to me for my birthday."
"Your sixteenth. Nothing's really yours till your eighteenth."
Vic tried to catch her eye. Does he have to be so smug? He probably intended that as the opener for one of those brotherly lectures she loved so much. Probably Old Number 231: "Using Your Gifts Responsibly." Or maybe the one about how much she needed him to look out for her. Not going to let him see me cry. She stared at the stop sign as Vic coasted. The car was still rolling when she stepped out.
"Stay away from those guys, or I'll put it in the front yard with a cardboard sign," he called after her as she slammed her door. The rest of what he said was muffled, but she heard enough to know it was something about what Gunny would do.
Shivering, she headed toward home. Vic followed for a couple hundred yards, trying to get her back in the truck. He tried arguing, cajoling, demanding.
Narrowing her eyes, Dani stopped and looked straight at him. "I can handle myself."
He threw his hands in the air and floored it, leaving her to handle the five miles to home as she screamed words she'd never have used if he could hear her until the truck disappeared over the horizon. She looked up at the graying sky and the road ahead. Wish I'd have worn flats.
***
Vic rubbed his temples as he rolled down the window. Flashing lights always triggered his migraines. He fished out his license and registration, shutting his eyes as he held them out the window.
"Any idea how fast you were driving?" A woman's voice.
Vic squinted. She wasn't much older than he. Kind of cute in the uniform, red hair pulled back tight under her cap. He shook his head. "Five, maybe seven miles an hour?"
"In a fifty." Her tone was business-like, monotone, but friendly enough. "No flashers. Having trouble with your truck?"
The lights reflecting off her badge and the mirrors made his head throb. He looked away, shutting his eyes and pointing down the road. "No, Officer. I was just following that girl there."
It sounded like the officer was trying not to let the hint of urgency creep into her voice as she spoke into her radio. "I've got a 10-44-60."
He heard a car door close somewhere behind him.
"I need you to look up at me, sir." Still business-like. Still monotone. Less friendly.
When he complied, he found himself staring into the business end of a Magnum flashlight.
"Any drugs? Weapons? Anything in the car we should be aware of?"
He flashed the best grin he could manage with his head threatening to explode. "Just a Bible."
"Sir, I'm going to need you to step out of the vehicle."
Humor's not her strong suit.
***
Dani had three miles to go and heels in hand when the rain started. She knew she looked like a drowned rat when the Fiero pulled up beside her, and the tinted window slid down to reveal Jon grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He gave half a nod toward the passenger seat.
Like something straight off an MTV video.
She flopped in, laughing despite herself. The first time she'd laughed in days. "I must look terrible," she said, running her hands through her tangled hair.
He didn't deny it, but the way he looked at her made her feel light-headed. She caught herself biting her lip again as she felt color rise in her cheeks.
He wiped mascara off her cheek with his fingertips and took her hand in his over the gear shift.
Smooth shifts. He really knows how to drive a sports car. The needle pushed past sixty as they passed the speed limit sign.
"Can't drive fifty-five?"
He grinned, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was looking her up and down from the corner of his eye. Dani felt as if her whole body was going to contract. Or explode.
"You can't take me home," she said after they'd driven a few minutes in silence. Vic would have a cow.
"Wouldn't dream of it." The car drifted, spitting gravel as he leaned into her, driving with his legs.
She froze when he put his hand on her knee and pressed his lips to hers. She closed her eyes, praying he wasn't closing his as Winger's "She's Only Seventeen" blared through the speakers.
***
By the time Vic convinced the rookie cop he wasn't drunk, high, or stalking "with intent to place anyone in reasonable fear for his or her safety," as she put it, more than half an hour had passed. He fumed, remembering how amused the older cop seemed to be when his zealous partner – Deputy Julie Porter, according to her name tag – called the K9 unit. Ah well, could have been worse if he hadn't recognized me from when I preached at his church. And I did end up getting to invite her to church.
He turned the wipers on as the drizzle gave way to a steady shower. After an hour combing every side street he could imagine Dani might have taken, he decided she'd probably beat him home.
"Hope she got a ride," he said as thunder pealed.
He decided to check one more place before heading home, the only other place he could imagine her going. Say what you will about Dani, she's a homebody at heart. He'd told her not to go there, but that didn't seem to stop her from doing what she wanted lately. And Vic knew she wouldn't be content staying away long. Besides, it was on the way.
As soon as the door opened at Shelly's house, he knew he'd made a mistake. Dani wasn't there. Shelly wasn't, either.
"Thought I told you to keep Dani away from her." Ms. Emmett looked fit to be tied. "She never got into trouble before she started hanging out with your sister."
Vic knew better, but he wasn't interested in having that conversation while standing in the rain. Not until he knew Dani was home and dry, at least. He tried to break it off, but Ms. Emmett was determined to give him an earful.
"I found condoms in Shelly's dresser," she said. "Shelly swore they were a friend's and Shelly wouldn't lie to me. What other friend could they possibly belong to?"
Vic had a few ideas but thought better of saying them out loud.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is for a single mother trying to raise a daughter right?" Vic was afraid if she got any louder, she'd attract the neighbors' attention, rain or no rain.
"Shelly doesn't need that kind of influence. And what kind of a Christian are you, anyway, letting your sister live like that? Aren't you afraid she's going to get a reputation?"
Twenty minutes later, soaked to the skin and having given up on getting a word in edgewise, Vic crawled back into the truck and laid his head on the steering wheel. "Father, I don't have what it takes to be Dad."