Yellowstone Memories (36 page)

“Okay, okay. I’m getting in.” Alicia crossed over to the passenger’s side and tugged at the stuck door. “You didn’t wrap my package in a hamburger wrapper this time, did you?”

The door hinges stuck tight. Thomas heaved on it with his free arm, and it finally popped open, banging her square in the cheek.

“Oh my word. Alicia? You okay?” Thomas cut the engine and jumped out of the truck, trotting over to her in his boots and yellow-and-green uniform.

“I’m fine, chief.” Alicia tried to laugh as she wiped a smear of blood from her cheek with her sleeve. “Another bruise will just complete my collection.”

Thomas dug in the rusty glove compartment for a first-aid kit and, finding nothing, grabbed a handful of Taco Bell napkins from the console. “You’re gonna swell up big-time.” He reached back inside the truck and grabbed his water bottle. He squirted some on the napkins and pried her fingers off.

Alicia blinked as he held the moist napkins there, easing the initial stinging and swelling. “I’m fine, you know,” she mumbled, feeling color creep into her cheeks. “You don’t need to baby me.”

“Maybe somebody should.” Thomas spoke almost as if angry, but his face remained relaxed. His dark lashes just inches from hers. “You certainly don’t know how to do it yourself.”

He reached for the door handle and took her elbow, helping her up into the torn leather seat. “C’mon. You can use the restroom at the station. It’s just up the road about three miles.”

Alicia moved his regulation yellow hard hat to the dash and buckled herself in with her free hand, still holding the napkin to her cheek as the truck grumbled reluctantly to life. Pines slipped by the windows in various shades of green, ending abruptly with pockets of horrible emptiness, pockmarked with scorched patches and lone, burned tree trunks like skinny snaggleteeth.

He had just turned a curve when the engine abruptly shuddered and died. Smoke poured out from under the hood, and Thomas lurched to the side of the road, wrenching the wheel hard. The truck bumped over a couple of jagged stones and fallen limbs and rolled to a stop in a patch of tall, yellow goatsbeard blooms.

Alicia braced herself against the dashboard as the truck gave one mighty sputter and then died. Leaving nothing but an angry gurgling from the engine.

Thomas, in an unusual burst of emotion, yanked off his baseball cap and smacked the steering wheel with it. His nostrils flaring.

And Alicia threw her head back and laughed like she hadn’t in a long, long time.

When nature called, Alicia answered in the bushes. Hoping she hadn’t grabbed a poison ivy leaf by mistake.

“So what’s in my package?” She swung up in the truck seat and slammed the door behind her. “It is for me, isn’t it?”

“Go ahead. Open it.”

Alicia shook the rectangular package, and it made a noisy shifting sound. “More Sea-Monkeys? You shouldn’t have.”

Thomas turned sideways in his seat like a giddy schoolboy. “Hurry up and open it, or I will.”

“Hold your horses, chief.” Alicia pulled her pocketknife from her belt clip and sliced the tape. “Or should I call you chief wannabe?”

“Very funny.” Thomas reached out to rip some of the tape. “You’re taking too long.”

Alicia tore at the paper and slid out a box. She felt herself seize up. Hand still frozen on the paper, mouth partially open. Her heart seemed to fall through the rusty floorboard of the truck.

“Velvet Gold graham crackers,” she whispered, her voice scratchy with emotion. “You found them.” She lifted the box out of the paper, handling it gently as if afraid it would break. “How did you do it, Thomas? Where did you find them?”

“My secret.” He winked.

“No secrets.” She punched his arm, her eyes stinging with tears. “Tell me the truth. Where did you find them?”

“I called a friend of mine, and he tracked down a vintage bakery in Connecticut that just went out of business. He bought the last two boxes for me and overnighted them here.” Thomas smoothed the box. “I just hope they’re not broken.”

Alicia looked up as if in a daze.

“But you need something to complete the set.” He reached under the seat and pulled out a lunch box. “See? I brought two knives.” He held them up: two plastic jobs from the mess hall.

“For butter?” Alicia’s eyes welled.

Thomas pretended to bow, looping his finger from his nose. And he reached down and pulled a fresh tub of butter from his lunch box, placing it, still cool, into her upturned hand.

“How’s your cheek?” Thomas moistened another napkin and handed it to her.

Alicia brushed graham cracker crumbs from her lips, still smiling, and touched the cut gingerly. “Don’t worry. I’m used to getting beat up.” She shrugged. “No biggie.”

Thomas froze.

“What?” Alicia drew back, shaking the graham crackers back into their plastic sleeve and closing the cardboard box flaps. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Before he could reply, a zooming rumble sounded in the distance, and another Forest Service fire truck appeared around the bend. Light from a break in the clouds gleamed across its smooth finish.

Thomas laid on the horn, which gave a weak and sickly squawk, and the other fire truck pulled up in a cloud of dust.

“Tommy, Tommy. You’re broken down again?” Duncan poked his head out the driver’s side window.

“What do you think? This is Methuselah we’re talking about.” Thomas leaned through the open window. “Can you send us a tow? Please? It’s like the fourth time today.”

“Sorry we didn’t take your call. Everybody’s out. The fire’s spread over to Canyon, and it’s bad. They’re about to lose a whole new section of the park. Spray helicopters are overrunning the place, and nothing’s taking the blaze down.” Duncan shifted back into D
RIVE,
and the engine roared. “I’ll radio you in, but it’s gonna be awhile before anybody has time to send a tow.” He slapped the side of the truck. “Hang tight, okay?”

And he thundered off down the road in a cloud of dust and ash.

To Alicia’s surprise, Thomas spoke not another word. He just stared out the cracked windshield, the muscle in his jaw clenching. A gust of breeze blew dust up in a cloud from the parched road like a dirt devil, making dry leaves spin.

“What?” Alicia leaned forward to catch his eye. “You’re upset about the truck or something?”

“Huh?” Thomas turned, not seeming to see her. Cloud shadows moved slowly in the distance, like a slowly creeping cat.

“What’s the matter?”

“The matter?” Thomas gave a weak laugh, avoiding her eyes. “I’ll just be a second. I’ll see if I can get this old thing working again.” And he swung out of the side of the truck, banging the door behind him.

“So you think this is the end of the road for Methuselah?” Alicia patted the dented dashboard. She’d crawled out of the truck and dug around under the hood with Thomas, toolbox laying open by their feet, but nothing did the trick. She eventually threw all the wrenches, battery testers, belts, and hoses back in the toolbox and crawled up in the cab, grease-spattered and ready to take a nap. Wondering, with reluctance, if she should try to hike back the several miles to spike camp.

“Methuselah? Who knows.” Thomas slumped back in the seat and rocked his head back, still strangely quiet. “This thing never gives up. And Uncle Sam keeps throwing wrenches and air filters at her. You know what?” He sat up straight, looking so indignant that Alicia covered another laugh with her hand. “How much do you wanna bet that when we get back to the station they’ll make me fix her up again?”

The truck tipped as air gushed out of the front tire again, and Thomas’s clipboard slid across the seat. Alicia chuckled. “There’s no way they’ll make you fix her up now. She’s headed for the scrap heap.”

“You’re on.” He held out his hand. “A buck says they do.”

“Any day.”

Alicia reached out and shook his hand, surprised at how beautiful his fingers looked wrapped around hers. A slightly darker shade of toffee brown, with smooth pink nails and palms. Warm and large boned, with thick knuckles.

When she looked over at him, Thomas still hadn’t pulled away.

“What did you mean by that?”

“Mean by what?” Alicia’s pulse pounded, trying to tear her eyes away from the image of their two hands together there on the truck seat.

“That you’re used to getting beat up.” He brushed her hair back from the cut with his thumb. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since you said it. Were you talking about the day you got banged up in the truck?”

Alicia pulled back, startled. “Used to getting beat up? I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did. You said, ‘No biggie. I’m used to it.’ ” Thomas leaned closer, his dark eyes boring into her. “What did you mean by that?”

Alicia’s mouth went cotton dry, and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

A vein in Thomas’s throat beat wildly, in fitful shivers. His eyes lay dark like black velvet, almost too beautiful to look at.

“I think I know what you meant.” His words came out husky, almost in a whisper. “And it kills me. Why do you let people treat you like that? You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re … you’re amazing. Why?”

Something tickled in the pit of Alicia’s stomach, like speeding over a hill too fast, and she started to disentangle her fingers. Keeping her face turned down so he wouldn’t see the flush mounting in her cheeks.

Except she felt Thomas pulling her—ever so slightly—toward him.

When she raised her head, his face gazed back at her with twin looks of desire and terror. Flushed and white at the same time, teenager-like. Beneath her palm, she felt his fingers moisten with sweat.

He’s going to kiss me
. Alicia tried to think, tried to turn her mind to anything but the startled rush that tingled through her veins.

B
efore Alicia could react or spit out a single word, Thomas pulled back. He let her hand go, turning abruptly away to the driver’s side window. He squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed a fist on his forehead.

“What?” Alicia blurted, her mouth falling open. “What did I do?”

“Do?” Thomas’s eyes popped open with a wounded look. “Alicia, you didn’t do anything. I’m so sorry.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. “Forgive me. Please. I was … terribly out of line.”

Alicia’s eyebrows shot up, and she decided to keep her mouth shut.

Thomas rubbed his hand across his face, messing up his hair. “I’m sorry. Really. I had no right to do that.” He slapped his John Deere cap back on his head and fumbled for the gearshift.

The color drained from his face, and he turned the key in the ignition, pressing vainly on the gas. Methuselah gave a spiteful sputter and died again, leaving only metallic clicks when Thomas turned the key again.

“I’m not even going to bother with the two-way anymore. Nobody answers. I’m so sorry.” Thomas shook his head. When he put his hands back on the wheel, his fingers trembled.

“Thomas.” She spoke deliberately and carefully, pressing her nervous lips together. “Why … are you so sorry?”

“Because.” He swallowed, keeping his eyes averted. “It’s not right. You’re not … ready. I’m sorry.”

“Ready for what?” Alicia’s heart beat loud in her throat. She crossed her arms stiffly across her chest, trying not to think of the fifty-dollar compass Thomas had bought her, all wrapped in a hamburger paper. For all his generosity, she knew he didn’t earn much more than she did.