I Owe You One (5 page)

I know I shouldn't have gotten her hopes up, but she looked so sad, and she seemed so much older than the day she had pulled me out of the creek. The surgery and the pneumonia had taken a lot out of her. Her cheeks were hollow, her hands trembled slightly and her eyes had lost their sparkle.

I left, promising to get Frank onto fixing the tower right away, even though secretly I didn't think it would work. It had to be complicated and expensive.

Frank's shop was in a small building beside Lee's. It was floor-to-ceiling appliances and parts for appliances. Lawnmowers, kettles, radios, washing machines. You name it, Frank fixes it. I always thought he could have been an engineer or something, he was that smart. But Frank had dropped out of high school at seventeen to start making money to help feed his five brothers and sisters after their dad got sick.

Problem was, Frank was a bit of a hermit. He almost never left his shop except to go home to his little apartment, and I don't think he even owned a tv. Maybe he was sick of working on them for the past eight years. Anyway, there was no way he would want to trek up to Daryl's farm and face that mess.

It would be easy enough to ask him quickly and then tell Mrs. Minton he couldn't do it. She would be disappointed, I guess, but I'd have kept my promise and then I'd be off the hook.

A man pays his debts, Wes
.

The words echoed in my head as I walked. I could picture my dad standing in the hallway in his uniform, ready to face any danger the day might throw at him. I knew what my dad would have done. He never took the easy way out of anything.

Even though I didn't like it, I knew what I had to do. I had to repay my life debt to Mrs. Minton, and fixing the tv tower was how I would do it. It wasn't exactly a life for a life, but it sure seemed important to her. One way or another, I had to make sure that tower got fixed.

I took a detour to Zach's house. I was going to need some backup.

“Well, what do you think?” I asked Zach after I told him my idea.

“I guess it could be considered a life-debt payment,” he said. “Especially if it is her final wish.”

“I wouldn't call it that. I think she's getting better.”

“You don't know for sure. Having her granddaughter's race to look forward to might give her something to live for. In this documentary I watched the other week, they said a positive attitude helps fight off infection. This could save her life!”

Oh, definitely
National Geographic
talking here.

“But do you think he can fix it?” he asked.

“Frank? Haven't you ever heard the rumors?”

“You mean that Frank can fix anything? I thought that was just a legend.”

I shook my head. “I've never seen him beat yet. The trick is going to be convincing him to leave his shop.”

“I know. When's the last time you saw him anywhere but in his shop or riding his bike home?”

“Not in recorded history.”

“So we're going to have to come up with a way to convince him.”

“Leave it to me,” I said.

“So, are you ready to sell?” Frank asked me the moment we stepped into his shop.

Frank always greeted me that way. He knew darn well I wasn't going to let go of my Spider-Man comic. “No. I told you. It's an investment,” I said.

Frank's face fell. “So, what do you want?”

I launched into the story about Daryl and the tv tower and Mrs. Minton. He wasn't impressed.

I decided to try flattering him. “We need an expert to look at it. Someone who knows what all that junk is.”

No response.

“You're so good with electronics and stuff,” Zach added.

Nothing.

“Look,” I broke in, “Mrs. Minton mentioned you by name. She said if anyone could fix it, you could. She's counting on you.”

Frank's face reddened. Bingo. A guilt trip always worked. Frank couldn't disappoint old Mrs. Minton. I remembered that after his dad died, she used to go over and babysit so Frank and his mom could go to work.

With a big sigh, Frank put down the modem he was working on and followed us on his bike to Daryl's farm. After working so hard to get Frank over there, I wasn't too encouraged by the look on his face when he saw the remains of the tower. Zach and I waited, holding our breath.

“Nah,” was all he said.

I waited for more, but Frank was apparently finished talking.

“Nah, what?” I asked.

“No use. It's scrap. Can't be fixed.”

I stiffened. No way I was going back to Mrs. Minton with that answer.

“What about the legend? That you can fix anything?” I asked. I picked up several of the biggest pieces and held them out to Frank, hoping he'd say he was wrong. He just shook his head.

I let the pieces drop.

Frank turned to go.

“Wait,” I said. “What about if we get a new transmitter? Could you install it?”

Never one to waste words, all he said was, “Tower's broken too.”

I gritted my teeth.

“We'd get the tower rebuilt, of course,” Zach said.

Frank looked uncertain.

“Take some doing,” he said.

“But it's possible, right?” I asked.

“Anything's possible…with the right parts,” was his answer.

Chapter 7

Zach and I crowded around Frank's desk two days later, trying to hear the person on the other end of his phone. He gave us a dirty look, so we backed off.

He had surfed the Internet for about two hours trying to find a new transmitter. Then he'd spent another twenty minutes phoning around. I was trying hard not to be impatient. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze and it was hotter than normal for the end of June. A perfect day to go look for more dirt bike hills. It would be a great way to celebrate the first day of summer vacation, but instead we were spending it cooped up in Frank's cramped shop.

“Well?” I asked when he hung up.

Frank sighed. “It can't be done.”

A man finds a way, Wes
.

“Why not?”

“No parts.”

“There have to be parts. Things break. They make extras.”

Frank just shook his head. “Not making them anymore. Switching to digital signals. Analog towers are history.”

There was silence as Zach and I took that in.

“What does that mean?” I asked finally.

“No more analog towers. No more rabbit ears.”

I didn't like the sound of that.

Zach turned to me. “You'll just have to think of some other way to pay back your debt.”

Frank looked at me. “What debt?”

My face flushed. I didn't really want the whole cane-shawl-afghan thing getting around, but I figured I could trust Frank. He barely talked to anyone.

“A life debt,” I said.

“You're going to pay back a life debt by fixing a tv tower?”

“Well, it's not like I've got a lot of options. She's not being held by bandits. She's not tied to some railway tracks with a train coming. She's not surrounded by a pack of wolves or anything. She's getting up there in years, she's sick and she wants to see her granddaughter's ski race more than anything else in the world right now. She'd watch at a friend's, but her doctors say she can't leave her house.”

“Why doesn't she just stream it on a computer?” Frank asked.

“She doesn't even have cable. Do you really think she has the Internet?”

“So take her a laptop. Someone must have one.”

I wondered if Frank remembered how far into the boonies Six Roads was.

“There's no Wi-Fi near her house.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I can't think of any other way to repay her,” I said.

Frank didn't answer right away, but then he nodded as if he understood about owing Mrs. Minton.

I waited, hope surging back.

“Gimme a couple of days. I got some connections.”

I couldn't figure out what kind of connections you could have in the parts world. Was there a black market for toaster elements or something? But whatever it meant…I still had a chance.

“Here, take these cinnamon buns to Mrs. Minton, if you've got nothing better to do,” my mom said. She had obviously had enough of my pacing. Waiting for Frank to call was harder than I thought. I kept checking to see if the phone was still working.

Mrs. Minton struggled to sit up when I came in. Her face was pale and her hand trembled as she reached for her glasses. How could someone change so much in so little time?

“Any news on the tv tower?” were the first words out of her mouth.

I gulped. Should I make something up just to make her feel better, or should I tell her the truth?

“Spit it out, Wesley.”

The truth it was.

“Frank's looking into it.”

“You mean he can't fix it.” She lay back with a sigh and closed her eyes.

“I mean he's tracking down the parts he needs. Then he'll fix it,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

She opened one eye. “He really thinks he can fix it?” With a great effort, she heaved herself back up into a sitting position.

“Sure he does. He just needs the parts.”

“Do you think he'll be done in time for me to see Rachel's race? It's less than two weeks away.” Her cheeks were flushed, and for the first time in a long time I saw the old spark in her eyes.

“Absolutely.”

I prayed all the way home that I wasn't lying.
A man always tells it like it is, Wes
. Well, if I had any say in the matter, that's how it would be. I was going to do whatever it took to get that tower fixed so Mrs. Minton could watch her granddaughter's race.

Chapter 8

On Wednesday morning, Zach and I ran over to Frank's shop. After convincing him again that I wasn't going to sell my comic, I asked about the transmitter.

“Well, I got good news and bad news,” he said.

I hate the good news-bad news game. If you chose the bad news first, the good news was never good enough to make up for it. And if you chose the good news first, you knew you couldn't enjoy it because somehow the bad news would cancel it out.