Chapter 1

The March sun shone warm and bright through the open garage door in spite of the cool temperature that day. The pungent aroma of spring air, mixed with diesel exhaust, filtered in on the light breeze as Lyric and I stood looking at the ruined motor of the car in front of us.

“What kind of person keeps driving their car with it blowing white smoke, because they think it looks cool?” I asked, thoroughly baffled.

“This guy apparently, but hey his blown-up motor is our gain, so good for him. Besides he’s like what? Seventeen, eighteen? You know his parents bought him this car.” Lyric replied.

“I guess,” I responded, as I stood there, still admiring the fantastic mess our customer had managed to make of his high dollar luxury vehicle. “Let me get the hoist hooked up and I’ll start pulling the motor out.”

“You sure you got that? I don’t mind helping you.”

With my most innocent smile I said, “I think I can do it. All I have to do is loosen any bolt I see, and hacksaw anything else that’s attached, then it should just fall right out the bottom. Right?”

“Ha-ha, Harm. Just be careful and if you need help, I’ll be out back checking in those other cars that got dropped off,” and then he added, “Oh I meant to ask you, have you heard from Erica lately?”

Erica was my girlfriend. We had both grown up together, and during our senior year of high school we both realized that we had fallen in love with each other. Our relationship had grown quickly, and we had both believed that nothing could separate us. When Erica left for college, however, we had found that we were both slowly growing apart, and our conversations had dwindled to a couple of times a month, if that.

I just rolled my eyes before responding to Lyric. “I talked to her last Saturday. She’s on spring break starting next Monday, but she’s staying in Duluth to study.”

“Man, has she been back home since she left?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” I replied.

“I’m sorry Harm. How are you feeling about the situation?”

I felt a small sting of bitterness at his question. “To be honest, I don’t know. I still love her so much, but I can’t help wondering if she’s just trying to figure out how to break it off with me. We barely even talk anymore. It hurts so bad Lyr. I don’t know what to do.”

Lyric put his arm around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze. “I’m really sorry Sis. I wish I could tell you what to do, but my only advice would be to trust your gut.”

“I know, Lyr. Thanks.”

With that he turned to leave, but then stopped and looked back at me saying, “Ah geez, I almost forgot. Mira gave me a shopping list to pick up after work, but I’ve got to stay late. Could I ask a huge favor of you?”

I looked at him dubiously before saying, “What is it?”

“Would you mind going for me on your way home and bringing these groceries to Mira? I’ve got to cook the books some more so we can stay in business another month.”

Mira was Lyric’s wife. I started to answer and then what he had said sunk in. “You have to what?”

Lyric began to bray with laughter at my reaction. “Your face!”

Shaking my head, I held up a middle finger at him.

“All joking aside, I’m going to be here late tonight, and she really needs this stuff. I’d love you forever if you could do this for me,” he said as he handed me the grocery list and some cash.

“Ok, ok. I’ll go. Oh, and for the record you have to love me forever because I’m your sister.”

He shot me an impish grin as he began to walk off, and said, “Keep telling yourself that.”

Stuffing the money and list into my pocket I shook my head and returned to working on the car. By closing time, I had managed to remove the motor with the hoist and placed it where I could begin working on it the next Monday. After scrubbing my hands, I yelled to Lyric who was in the office, “I’m heading out. See you at home.”

“Okay, see you later,” he yelled back.

I closed up the bay doors and locked up, before walking to my car. It was a 1971 Chevelle that Lyric had restored and given to me as a Christmas gift during my senior year of high school. It was dark red with two broad, white racing stripes running the length of it across the top. Over a year later I was still proud of it.

I slowly navigated the Friday afternoon traffic to our local Hy-Vee. I had to circle the lot three times before finding a parking spot. As I walked towards the store entrance, I noticed a woman standing next to a gold colored sedan with its hazard lights flashing. It was parked haphazardly in a spot near the front of the lot. She appeared to be in her forties, was dressed in business attire, and she was clearly distressed. I started to walk past her, but my conscience wouldn’t allow me to. With a sigh I turned and approached her, speaking.

“Everything ok, Miss?”

The woman seemed relieved at my words, or maybe the fact that anyone was willing to check on her. “My car won’t start. This is twice today. I turn it off and it won’t crank back up. Any ideas?”

I chuckled and said, “You’re in luck, I’m a mechanic. Would you like me to have a look?”

She seemed elated at my offer and quickly responded, “Oh yes, please! Thank you so much!”

I walked to the driver’s side door, opening it, and reached under the dash. I pulled the switch I found there, popping the hood with a clunk. Walking back around front I lifted the hood and propped it up. It only took me seconds to spot the problem.

“Your battery terminals are corroded,” I said, pointing to the thick collection of bluish green residue atop her battery. I tugged the positive cable and the connector slipped loose from the post with ease.

Looking back to her again I said, “I have some tools in my car, give me a sec and I’ll have you on the road again in no time.”

“Oh my gosh, I don’t know how to thank you. I don’t have any money to pay you though.”

I just smiled and said, “Don’t worry about it.”

Returning to my car I fetched the toolbox I kept in my trunk and walked back to the disabled car. I used a wire brush to clean up her battery terminals and then tightened the cable back in place. As I was working, I noticed the woman staring at the patch on my coveralls that featured my name. “Harmony. That’s a pretty name.”

I laughed and said, “Thanks. I didn’t catch your name though.”

“Wanda, Wanda Hatch,” she replied.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Wanda Wanda Hatch. I’d shake your hand, but I don’t think you want this on you,” I said, showing her my palms that were once again black with grime.

She laughed lightly at my joke and asked, “Where do you work, Harmony?”

“River City Auto, over on Hillstead.”

I saw her nod as I gave both battery cables a final tug to make sure they wouldn’t slip off. “Ok, hop in and see if she’ll crank now.”

Wanda slipped into the driver’s seat and turned the key, to which the engine replied with a quiet murmur, turning over.

I brushed my hands off on the legs of my coveralls and said, “Ok, there you go. You’ll probably want to get that battery replaced soon though.”

Wanda, who had stepped back out of the car to stand next to me, said, “Maybe I can come by your shop some time and let you take care of that for me.”

I was starting to get the feeling that she was interested in more than just a new battery.

“Uh, sure, we can take care of that for you.”

Smiling she said, “I’m sorry I can’t pay you for all this.”

Reaching in her purse she produced a business card and handed it to me. “Here’s my card, though. Call me sometime and I’m sure I’ll find a way to make it up to you,” she said with a wink. With that she stepped back into her car, and with a broad smile, and a wave, she pulled off.

I looked at the card in my hand. It was from a local realty office and featured the name Wanda Hatch, a phone number, and a small picture of Wanda with a beaming smile. In miniature print at the bottom it read, “Always happy to serve your needs.”

“I bet she is,” I muttered as I started walking towards the store again, after returning my tools to my car. “I think I need a shower.”

***

I struggled with my key as I tried to unlock the door with bags of groceries dangling from both arms. One of the many things I shared in common with my brother was my hatred of making multiple trips to the car to unload groceries. I always tried to carry everything in one trip, but this time it wasn’t working out for me.

From the other side of the door, I heard the sound of someone turning the lock, and then the knob. Mira appeared before me as the door swung open. She gave me a puzzled look.

In response I said, “Lyric has to work late so I got the groceries for you.”

She nodded, and as I walked in, she asked, “How was your day?”

“I had a woman try to pay me with real estate and sex, how was yours?”

Her face took on an expression of alarm, eyes wide, as she swallowed hard and said, “You have a visitor.”

Confused, I asked, “Who?”

From behind me I heard a familiar voice. “Hey Harm.”

I turned. Standing in the doorway to our dining room was Erica.