A Match Made in Dry Creek (8 page)

 

Curt kept looking at Doris June. He was missing something and he didn't know what it was. She was acting as if she had forgiven him and that everything was okay between them. The only problem was that she'd
never actually said she forgave him. She'd danced around the topic when he'd said something in front of everyone last night, but the Doris June he knew would forgive a person directly and not by implication.

He looked at her again. She sure looked like she was okay with him. Maybe she'd changed a little over the years. He was the first one to recognize that age changed the way a person related to others. They'd been teenagers the last time they'd had an argument and needed to ask forgiveness of each other. It probably wasn't fair to expect a woman in her forties to forgive someone the same way she had when she was seventeen.

And then again maybe he was just imagining the lack. Maybe she had said she forgave him and he hadn't heard it with the jumble going on in his own head. Was that even possible?

Finally, he told himself he should just accept their truce as the gift that it was. She seemed happier around him so maybe she was.

Doris June offered to do the dishes, but Charley and Mrs. Hargrove insisted that they would.

“The hot water's good for my arthritis,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “And Charley doesn't mind drying, do you?”

“Not at all,” Charley said with a glance at Curt. “Besides, somebody needs to take a look at that old pickup to see if the kids are going to be able to use it in their concert and you can get down and see underneath it better than I can.”

Curt supposed somebody did need to see if the pickup could be driven. “The battery's probably dead. Nobody's even turned the pickup on since I've been back. How long has it been, anyway, since you've driven it?”

Charley shrugged as he picked up the empty platter from the table and started over to the counter by the sink. “I haven't had it out since you dented the fender.”

“Twenty-five years!” Curt said. “You've kept it in that barn for twenty-five years.”

“Cool,” Ben said as he put his jacket on. “That makes it, like, what—a relic?”

“I don't think it's old enough to be a relic exactly,” Doris June said.

“I sent you money to fix the fender,” Curt said to his father. “I thought you at least got the thing fixed and used it to haul hay or something.”

“I didn't need the pickup,” Charley said as he set the platter down on the counter. “Besides, I was saving it for when you came back. You always did like the way it took the roads around here.”

“The tires have to be shot, too,” Curt said as he walked over to the coatrack. They'd have to tow the old thing into Dry Creek if the kids wanted to use it as a stage for their concert.

Curt looked at Ben. “Are you sure you wouldn't just as soon have us pull one of the hay wagons into town? There'd be more room on them than the back of the pickup.”

“No way,” Ben said. “The pickup has history. The girls are going to go wild over it.”

Curt knew his son was probably right. And, for a teenage boy, driving the girls wild was quite the temptation. He didn't think his son had ever been the center of attention like that before.

“Maybe the pickup isn't in as bad shape as you think,” Charley said to Curt. Apparently Charley had noticed the look on Ben's face just like Curt had. “Why don't you take a look and see? Doris June can hold the flashlight for you while you get down to look under the engine. I remember the two of you used to work on the pickup all the time.”

“Ben might want to go hold the flashlight,” Doris June said as she picked up a couple of dishes from the table and started to take them to the counter.

“Yeah. Sure,” Ben said.

“Ben only has a few minutes until he needs to get ready to catch the school bus,” Curt said as he reached up to a shelf over the coatrack and pulled down a large metal flashlight. He turned to Doris June. “I'll need someone who can stay longer.”

“Please, let's go,” Ben said as he put his shoulder on the door, getting ready to open it. “If I've only got a few minutes, we'll need to look quick. When I see Lucy in school, she'll want to know if the pickup will work.”

Ben looked over at Doris June and she nodded.

Curt felt his stomach relax. He figured there was as
much chance that the old pickup could be fixed enough to run as there was that the pigs on the Elkton farm could fly, but if Doris June was willing to hold the flashlight, he was willing to look and see what he could do. Not that he expected it to be easy. With the old rubber in the tires and all of the belts everywhere, there was no way that vehicle would run on its own power without some major work. Of course, he could be surprised. It was an old 1950 Ford and, back then, they made pickups to last.

Curt put his hand on the door and gave it a push outward. “Well, let's get going then.”

D
oris June didn't really want to see the pickup, but she guessed she was going to anyway. Part of her hoped the old thing would start right up and prove that it could survive all of those years with no problem. She had spent some of the best days of her life riding around in the blue pickup. Curt had driven them to high school in Miles City many days in it. She'd thought they were so cool. The radio reception had never been particularly good, but she and Curt used to sing to the top forty songs as they came on the air.

The only light in the barn came from the open doorway they entered. Doris June looked around. The Nelsons used this barn for storage and the air inside was dusty from last fall's wheat chaff. The roof had leaked at some point and it smelled like moist dirt from the
spring rains. The boards that made the walls had aged until they were gray and cracking.

“Did Grandpa really let you drive that when you were sixteen?” Ben asked after the three of them had walked over to where the pickup stood. A large tarp covered the vehicle and a couple of hay bales were stacked next to it.

“I had to have my regular license before I could drive it on the country roads,” Curt said. “Just like you need to have before you drive anything alone.”

Doris June knew that most of the kids around Dry Creek actually drove farm vehicles before they turned sixteen. Everyone expected them to drive because of the farm work they did. They were just not allowed to officially drive in any kind of a traffic area, not even the county roads.

“We were foolish to think of taking it to Vegas, though,” Doris June added for Ben's benefit. “Even when you do get your license, you need to let your Dad know before you take any long trips.”

“But my dad didn't—” Ben started.

“We got into an accident before we even got through Dry Creek,” Curt said as he put a hand on his son's shoulder. “Trust me. You don't want to do what we did.”

Ben nodded. “I suppose not, but it's still kind of cool.”

Curt only grunted as he walked over and reached for the faded tarp that covered the front of the pickup. “Can somebody get the other side of this?”

Ben and Doris June both went to the side of the tarp, which covered the back end of the pickup.

“Let's all lift together,” Curt said.

A flurry of wheat dust came off the tarp as they lifted it up. Ben sneezed. Doris June felt dust settle on her hair, but she didn't shake it off. She was back on the farm and it felt good.

“Well, there she is,” Curt said as they folded back the tarp and stood, looking at the vehicle.

“I remember it being bigger,” Doris June said as she studied it. This pickup used to hold her entire world. Now, the blue paint was faded and there was a crack in the windshield on the corner of the driver's side. The light coming in through the open door kept the vehicle in shadows, but she could still see the full size of it.

“Did we put the crack in the windshield, too?” Doris June asked Curt as she saw him lay down his side of the tarp and start to walk around to the back side of the pickup.

Curt needed to squeeze close to some hay bales to walk around the vehicle.

“I'm surprised your dad didn't have the insurance replace that windshield,” Doris June said.

“What insurance?” Curt reached in to open the passenger door. “He didn't carry comprehensive. He must have had liability, but that was all.”

“Oh, you should always have comprehensive insurance. I can't believe we didn't make sure we had in
surance. I mean, we were going to Las Vegas. There would have been all kinds of traffic there.”

Doris June didn't notice until then that Ben had followed his father around the side of the pickup.

“Wow,” Ben said. “You can still see where the pickup hit the sign. It's all smashed up. You must have been going sixty miles an hour.”

“Oh, I am sure we weren't going anywhere near that fast,” Doris June said as she walked to the driver's side and reached over to open the door. “We were still in Dry Creek. We'd have been going over the speed limit if we were going that fast.”

“Which no one should ever do,” Curt added as he looked down at his son. “Those speed limits are there for your own safety.”

“But you wouldn't have hit the stop sign if you'd been going slower,” Ben persisted.

Doris June opened the door to the driver's side. If she didn't know better she would swear she could still smell the aftershave lotion Curt had worn back then. It was probably still in the fabric of the seat cushion; it smelled like fresh-cut grass. She looked over at Ben. “We didn't hit the sign because we were going fast. We didn't see the sign.”

“But the sign's right there on the side of the road,” Ben said. “You would have seen it unless—” Ben stopped and his face got red.

“Yeah,” Curt said as he put a hand on his son's shoulder.
“You should never kiss a girl when you're driving, either.” Curt looked over at Doris June. “It tends to be distracting.”

Doris June wasn't sure she approved of the twinkle in Curt's eye.

“Maybe you should say something about safe driving at this concert you're giving,” Doris June said to change the subject. “We could get the sheriff to say a few words.”

“At our concert?” Ben asked in dismay. “The sheriff?”

Curt laughed as he looked over at Doris June. “I think she's teasing you, son.”

Ben nodded his head in relief. “Oh, good.”

Doris couldn't quite smile back at Curt, so she smiled at Ben instead. “Of course, I'm teasing.”

Doris June was beginning to think she could do this. She'd done pretty well with the reference to kissing. She just had to keep things light and forget who Curt was. She would pretend that she had only met him recently. And that the past between them was something that had happened to someone else in a book she had read or a movie she had seen. That should work.

“It's not going to hurt the dent to move the pickup, is it?” Ben said as he bent down to look at the fender more closely. “It's kind of a cool dent.”

“We'll have to pull the pickup into town with the John Deere tractor,” Curt said. “The chains will hook underneath the back so, no, it shouldn't hurt the fender.”

“Good,” Ben said as he stood up. “We'll want to park it so the dent shows when we're playing our music. It'll
be great for the pictures. Lucy's sister is going to take pictures for us. In case people want to order posters.”

Doris June wondered why her mother and Charley were worrying about their contribution to the tourism guide. They should have just asked Ben and Lucy to help. The two kids could put the town on the map if anyone could.

“Well, look at this,” Curt said as he held out something he'd just pulled from the glove compartment. “We had a map.”

The map was yellowed and had a brown spot or two on it, but it clearly said it was a map of the state of Nevada.

“I had forgotten,” Doris June said. “We didn't even know the way to Las Vegas.”

“You swore we needed to go through Livingston,” Curt said. “And that's north of here.”

“Well, we could have gone that way,” Doris June protested. “Besides, I knew they had a dress shop in Livingston that carried wedding dresses.”

“I told you they would have had wedding dresses in Vegas, too.”

“But it wouldn't have been the same. I wanted a wedding dress from here.”

“Cool,” Ben said. He had found a piece of paper someplace and he was making notes on it with a pencil. “Did you actually get a wedding dress?”

Doris June shook her head. She remembered it all now. She'd only had her jeans and a couple of T-shirts
with her and she had wanted something special to wear when she got married. She figured the dresses in Las Vegas would all be for older, more experienced women. She wanted to be wearing something she would be comfortable passing along to a daughter someday and she worried she wouldn't find anything like that in Nevada. She thought the dresses there would be too sexy and she didn't want that.

“I should have listened to you,” Curt said as he stood there holding the map in his hand.

“Well, as it turned out, I didn't need a wedding dress,” Doris June said brightly. She resisted the impulse to note that she had never needed a wedding dress after that either. “So it was okay.”

Everybody was silent.

“Hey, it's great to see this old pickup though, isn't it?” Doris June made herself look at Curt and smile. “I can't believe your dad kept it.”

Curt nodded and turned to Ben. “Don't you think you'd better get going so you aren't late for the school bus? It's after seven-thirty.”

“I guess so,” Ben said as he stood up from where he was studying the fender. “I don't know why I have to go to school today when we're so busy getting ready for the concert.”

“The concert's not until Saturday,” Curt said. “There's plenty of time.”

“Only two days,” Ben protested, but he walked to the
barn door and then turned around. “You'll wait to start talking to that guy from the state until Lucy and I get there, won't you? We'll get off the school bus in Dry Creek.”

“It's your grandfather's meeting, but I'm sure he'll wait if he can.” Curt watched his son leave the barn.

When Ben was gone, Curt started to walk around the pickup.

“Could you help me fold up the tarp?” Curt remembered that Doris June always talked best when she was busy. Even when they were hiking in the mountains, she talked more when she was picking up things along the trail. He wanted her to talk to him now.

“You know, I never realized,” Curt said as he picked up one end of the tarp.

Doris June looked up at him as she picked up the opposite corner. “What?”

“I never knew what I was asking you to give up. I should have figured it out when you were so set on going to that place in Livingston to get a wedding dress.”

Doris June shrugged. “All I had with me were jeans. Most women want a wedding dress.”

“But you wanted one from a store close to home. It wasn't just that I was asking you to run away and marry me, I was asking you to get married someplace that wasn't home to either of us.”

Doris June looked down at the tarp and Curt couldn't see her face. She used to be easier to read, as open as a sunny day. But no more.

“Lots of women get married away from their homes. It happens all the time.”

“But not when they've barely turned seventeen,” Curt said. “Not when they're you. You didn't want a Las Vegas wedding, did you?”

Doris June didn't answer him. She brought her end of the folded tarp to the place where he had folded his. “This should finish the tarp.”

Curt let her walk out of the barn. He had poked around in their past enough for today. If he wasn't careful, she would never let him close to her again and, now that she was talking to him, he found that he wanted things to be like they used to be between them. He didn't want to settle for politeness when, maybe, if God helped him, he could have his friend back.

Curt put the Nevada map back on the seat of the pickup. It was odd, but he swore he could smell the scent of the strawberry shampoo Doris June used to wash her hair with. It must still be in the fabric of the old seat cushion. He leaned a little closer to the seat back to be sure. Something purple caught his eye and he opened the door and pulled a rubber band from the crease in the seat. That was one of the bands Doris June had used in her ponytails.

Curt smiled to himself. He remembered he used to take the rubber bands out of her hair when he kissed her and it used to make her mad. She'd scold him while she put the band back in place and then she'd kiss him again. He wished she was mad at him for something as simple
as that this time. Back then she could scold him proper. Now, it seemed, her anger at him only made her want to stay away from him.

Well, he told himself as he pushed the rubber band over his hand and onto his wrist, he would either have to make her more angry with him or less angry with him. Either one was likely to get a reaction. Once he got that reaction, he might be able to gauge what his chances were of eventually making peace.

The dishes were finished by the time Curt got back to the kitchen. Doris June was sitting at the table with her mother and Ben had changed into his school clothes.

“Don't you need to be going?” Curt said to his son. He knew Ben didn't want to leave the house when there was so much cheer in it for a change, but he couldn't let him miss school.

“Yeah,” Ben said as he walked to the door. “Be sure and wait for us, Grandpa.”

“I will,” Charley said as Ben opened the door. “I'll tell him my jokes if I need to.”

Ben groaned and walked through the door.

“Since the meeting with that fella from the state won't be until late this afternoon,” Charley said as he turned to Curt, “we thought we'd go over and tend to the pansies before he gets here. Want to come?”

“Yeah, I think I would,” Curt said. He should be plowing, but it would have to wait. “Let me get cleaned up some first.”

“There's no need to change,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “We're going to be working in dirt over there anyway.”

Curt rolled down the sleeves on his work shirt. “Well, then, I'm ready to go. Just let me go get my shovel.”

“Do you have an extra one for me?” Doris June asked.

Curt nodded as he left the house.

Fifteen minutes later, Doris June drove her mother's car into the yard next to their family's old farmhouse. With one thing and another, she hadn't been back to visit the farm in several years. Her mother and Charley had both come with her in the car since Curt wanted to drive one of the small tractors over. He planned to do a little plowing when they finished doing what they needed to do with the pansies.