Slow Dance in Purgatory

“Oh, my! Maggie… you’re not still thinking about that poor boy are you?”

Unfortunately, Maggie thought to herself, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him. She just shrugged her shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant.

Irene nodded her head replying, “It’s the same place, but Gene’s son is the owner now. His name is Gene too, but every one calls him Harvey.”

Maggie didn’t try to puzzle that one out. It was Texas. In Texas nicknames usually came with a story, and the stories were either long or long forgotten.

Gene, a.k.a Harvey, was a curly haired man with a bulging belly and a smiley face. His striped work shirt and navy blue Dickeys were grease stained, and his hands were completely black, but he greeted Aunt Irene with a gentlemanly nod and smiled politely as Irene introduced Maggie.

“I am completely backed up today, Mrs. Carlton. Can it hold over the weekend? I can have Rick follow you home to make sure you make it okay, and we’ll come pick it up on Monday,” Harvey volunteered pleasantly. “I’m guessing it’s the transmission, from what you’re telling me. I warned you it might go when I gave her a check up last month.”

Irene nodded forlornly. Maggie could only guess at what she was thinking, but it most likely had a big dollar sign attached to it. Irene had taken religious care of her ‘Belle,’but parts wore out, and it cost money when they did. Money was something Aunt Irene didn’t have.

“That will be fine, Harvey. I have a convention in Galveston for the Ladies Historical Society this weekend. I’m the secretary of the North East region, you know,” Irene perked up as she talked, preening just a little. “The city has chartered us a van so I won’t be driving. Maggie and I will make do until Monday just fine.”

Maggie had forgotten about the convention. Aunt Irene would leave that afternoon and not be back until Sunday evening. Maggie was staying home all alone. Originally, the time alone had not appealed to her much at all. With Irene gone and Malia Jasper back in town, Gus and Shad wouldn’t even be coming for Sunday dinner, and she had dreaded the long weekend with nothing but bad television and homework to occupy her time. But that was before. An idea began to take shape, and Maggie tamped down on her rising excitement, careful not to alert Aunt Irene that she had a plan brewing.

The old pink car made it to the grocery and home again with a few hiccups and burps, and Irene swung the Cadillac into the attached garage with a heavy sigh.

“Well, hopefully it won’t take much to get her purring again.” Aunt Irene smiled at Maggie but the furrow between her blue eyes was more pronounced.

Irene had already packed her bags, and by two o’clock a passel of Honeyville’s most distinguished old ladies were outside the house tooting the horn and clucking like hens as Irene climbed in and blew a kiss to her niece. Maggie waved her off and watched the van lumber away. She had two whole days and no one to account to.

She paused to check her reflection in the mirror and considered changing, but her faded jeans and pink, long-sleeved, fitted T and sneakers were probably appropriate for the work ahead. Pulling her long hair to the side, she braided it over one shoulder and applied some cherry lip gloss. Her reflection looked pretty good, even blurry, and she considered leaving her glasses behind. When she had pulled them out of her pocket after leaving the library she had been stunned to see the crack was no longer there. Had it just been a scratch? Had Johnny simply rubbed it off? Maggie propped her glasses on her nose and sighed gustily. She could take them off when she got to the school, but vanity was dangerous, and she didn’t want to end up running over someone on the way because she was too proud to wear her glasses.

She threw her bike in the spacious trunk and swung the long car back out of the drive and headed for Honeyville High, crossing her fingers all the way, praying and begging the car to keep going. She found that if she stayed at twenty miles per hour exactly, Belle hummed along without a hitch. She circled the school until she spotted the rolling service door that served as a delivery port for the lunch room as well as a bay for the mechanics and woodshop classes. She didn’t have a key to those doors but thought maybe Johnny could help her with that part. The car lurched and stalled as she came to a stop in front of the door, and Maggie patted her gratefully.

“Good job, Belle.” Maggie laughed at herself. Irene was rubbing off on her. Running around to the side entrance, Maggie slid her key home and opened the door to the school. She started calling for Johnny as soon as the door clicked shut behind her.

***

“You want me to fix your car?” Johnny’s expression was incredulous.