Daisy doted on Dix and James, heaping their plates with roast beef, potatoes and carrots, and filling their glasses. She was so incredibly grateful to the men she couldn’t put it into words.
“Are you almost finished?” she asked as the men ate.
“Why? You in a hurry?” Dix asked.
“No, but you’ve been working on it for almost twelve hours already. I feel guilty enough as it is.”
Dix passed a look to James. “Almost. Just a few more things.”
“Where did you learn to do this? Did you own a garage, James?” When Dix snickered, she glanced between the men. “What?”
“Nothing,” James said.
“I know you probably haven’t heard of him since you didn’t even know what a clutch is, but this is the James McGhee.”
She looked at James. “I’m sorry to say I don’t know what that means.”
“It doesn’t mean anything, Daisy. Don’t worry about it.”
“James is one of the greatest race engine builders in the world. In the sixties and seventies there were more cars with his engines winning the SCCA Can-Am events than any other. His motors still fetch steep six figure money, even today, if you can find someone willing to sell one.”
Daisy looked at James with new respect.
“He exaggerates,” James said as he looked at his plate.
“I don’t exaggerate,” Dix said firmly. “Who built more winning engines than you?”
“Nobody,” James said softly.
“When you get back home, you can honestly say your Bug has an engine built by McGhee Motor Sports. You’ll be the envy of all your friends,” Dix teased.
“How did you end up here?” she asked, fascinated. What she knew about engines and cars wouldn’t fill a thimble, but she could hear the deep respect in Dix’s voice.
“I bought the place when I retired.”
“When was that?”
“About 1976.”
Daisy blinked, the math not adding up. “You couldn’t have been very old.”
“About thirty-eight.”
“Wow! Congratulations!” There was no way she could retire in ten years, and the fact James could amazed her. But then she noticed the livelihood had gone out of both of their eyes. “Wait, what happened?” She looked from Dix to James then back again.
“I had a son,” James began. “He wasn’t like Dix. He was arrogant and spoiled. It was my fault I suppose, well, mine and Susan’s, my wife. We gave him everything he wanted. He wanted to race, drawn to the speed and the woman, I guess, but he didn’t have the talent. I talked to a buddy of mine and we got him into a car. He did okay, but he was never really competitive, and heroes don’t finish ninth out of fifteen. In his second season, he was pushing too hard, driving beyond his ability and crashed.”
“Oh no,” she whispered.
James nodded. “He suffered a debilitating brain injury. He survived the crash but was brain dead, what do they call it now, a present vegetated state? We kept him on the machine for two years, hoping he’d wake up, but he never did, and we finally switched it off. He died three days later.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
James smiled at her. “It’s okay. That was a long time ago. Susan, she couldn’t accept it and blamed me for his death. I guess in a way it was. If I hadn’t pulled strings he’d have never been able to get a seat on his own. A year after Kyle died, Susan left me. I just didn’t have the passion for it anymore, so I sold my engine shop, packed up my equipment, and moved to Oregon. And, as they say, here I am.” They sat quietly for a long moment before James brightened. “But God gave me another chance, and I didn’t make the same mistakes with Dix I did with Kyle.”
“I guess we both got a second chance,” Dix said and smiled at James.
James pushed back from the table. “Speaking of second chances, that car isn’t fixing itself.”
“I’ll clean this mess up,” she said, knowing she’d be no use to them in the garage.
***
She checked on the progress of her car several times over the next four hours. Each time she walked into the garage, the car had changed as Dix and James cut and ground and welded. At first she couldn’t tell what they were doing until she had a chance to peek inside, swallowing hard at the fact she could see right through the bottom of the car.
She was fixing coffee for the men when she heard the distinctive sounds of an air-cooled Volkswagen pull out in front of James’s house. She opened the door and her car was there. At six this morning it had been a faded powder blue. Now the roof was the same blue, while the two rear fenders were a different blue, and though they were close, they obviously weren’t the same color as the rest of the car, whatever color that was.
The car looked like it has been inside a paint factory when it exploded. One door was yellow, as was one of the front fenders, but not on the same side as the door. The other door was red, and it matched the engine cover, while the trunk and other front fender were white. Mixed in with it all were splotches of black that looked like they came out of spray can. While the car might look like a crazy quilt of colors, she noticed immediately the rust holes and bent body panels were missing.
Dix, sitting the driver’s seat raced the engine. “Want to go for a ride?” he called as he stuck his head out the window, racing the engine again.
With a laugh she hurried down the two steps and jumped into the passenger seat.
“Buckle up,” he said as he banged the car into reverse and raced backwards before slamming on the brakes. He jammed the car into first, raced the engine, and dumped the clutch, throwing them backwards as the little car scrabbled for traction on the hard packed gravel. They went racing down a line of cars before sliding around a corner as she shrieked in excitement and fear, holding onto the dash and door handle for dear life.
He slid it around another corner, her little car roaring merrily as they picked up speed down another wide aisle. Never had her car pulled so hard or smoothly, or stopped so straight as he slammed on the brakes again and spun the wheel to the right, before they were rocketing away again.
He grinned as Daisy shrieked again, laughing hysterically as her car belted along. The Beetle was abysmally slow compared to what he was used to, but probably felt ridiculously fast considering it barely ran before…assuming she could get it started.
They skidded around the line of cars, and Dix buried the throttle, eking out every bit of speed the Bug could give him as they raced back to James’s house. When they slid to a stop, she couldn’t stop laughing.
“What were you doing to her out there?” James asked as they climbed out of the car. “I could hear her screaming all the way over here.”
She ran to James, throwing herself into his arms. He was covered in grease, and smelled of sweat and gasoline, but she didn’t care. “Thank you! Thank you so very much!” she exclaimed, holding him tight.
“It’s okay, Daisy,” he said softly, his arms going around her. “Dix and I haven’t worked in the shop together in a long time. I enjoyed doing it.”
She pulled back and kissed him on the cheek. “I think you are a wonderful man,” she whispered softly before letting him go.
She then turned her attention to Dix. As she approached, he dropped the keys into her hand. “It needs paint, but most of the rust is gone. The tires are worn out and should be replaced, but we couldn’t do anything about that, and we forgot new wiper blades. But it will start the first time, every time, and it stops without trying to jump into the ditch. Oh, and it drives straight now, too, and the heat even works.”
As he went down the litany of improvements, tears began to roll down her cheek before she melted into him and put her arms around him.
“I’m dirty.”
“I don’t care,” she said softly.
As his arms went around her and drew her in tight, she began to weep, her shoulders shaking as all the pain and frustration with her life poured out of her. Dix was so kind and thoughtful, willing to help her find Riley, and repair her car, and feed and shelter her, and asked for nothing in return. She could never repay his generosity, and the guilt of him giving so much and asking for nothing made her weep even harder.
“Shhh…” he whispered as she sobbed quietly. “It’s okay.”
“Thank you,” she gasped, trying to stop her tears.
“You’re welcome.”
She finally got control of herself and stepped back. “I’m going to need lessons on how to drive it.”
He rolled his eyes dramatically, as if she were asking for the world, but then smiled. “I figured. We’ll leave it here tonight and you can practice tomorrow. I’ll take you back in the truck, then pick you up again in the morning. But first,” he said as he turned toward his trailer, “I need a bath. I smell like a goat.”
James watched as Daisy waffled about what to do, so he decided to give her a nudge. “I need one of those, too, then I’m going to bed. I’m too damned old to be working this hard.”
She hurried to James. “Thank you. I can never repay you for what you’ve done for me,” she whispered as she hugged him again. “I think Dix is lucky to know you, and I’m glad I’ve had the chance to meet you.” She kissed him softly on the cheek again then smiled at him. “Sleep well, James.”
He smiled back at her and gave her a soft pat on the cheek. “Thank you for saying that.”
She hurried to join Dix. “I like James a lot.”
He smiled. “He’s great.”
“He told me about you and your family.”
“Yeah,” he said as he looked down and started for his trailer. “He was there when I needed him and has never let me down.”
“He loves you, you know.”
That made him smile. “Yeah, well, guys aren’t supposed to talk about stuff like that…but I love him like he was my own dad. He is my dad.”
She nodded as she followed him along the path to his trailer.
***