A full-size four-wheel drive truck, complete with a lift-kit and oversized tires, is backing out of a parking space. Even if the teenage boy driving the truck was actually watching where he was going, the truck sits up too high for him to see the little girl darting directly into his path. The boy inside the truck is focused on his radio, trying to find just the right song to listen to and is completely oblivious to the elderly woman screaming in terror.
Instincts take over as I push the cart out of my way and rush toward the little girl, praying I reach her before it’s too late. The truck is still moving backward, the girl is still sprinting forward, the woman is still screaming, and my heart is still pounding, but I am intent on reaching her in time. My leg muscles remember the years of running and yoga I practiced prior to my post-betrayal depression, and my days of sprinting pay off.
I’m moving faster than I’ve ever moved in my life, but I don’t feel my body. My muscles must be burning and twitching, but my adrenaline is way too high to notice anything else. The truck’s open tailgate is within inches of the little girl’s head when I snatch her up in my arms and dive into the back of the truck. The thud of my landing startles the teen driver and he slams on the brakes. The little girl lying on top of me is oblivious to how close she just came to being killed, because she’s giggling and playing with my long, blond hair.
“Your hair looks like mine,” she says. Only it sounds like she said, Uhr hair wooks wike mine.
“What the hell are you doing?” The boy jumps out of his truck, leaving his door standing wide open, and stares at us like we’ve lost our minds.
The elderly woman arrives at just that moment and starts swatting the boy’s arm with her hand—repeatedly.
“Ow, Mrs. Perkins! Why are you hitting me?”
“Because, Joey Griffin, you almost ran over River!” she shrieks at him. “You weren’t paying a bit of attention to driving that truck. If it hadn’t been for this lady right here, you’d have killed that little girl. Tell your momma I’ll be giving her a call to talk about this later tonight.”
Joey looks more than appropriately chastised by Mrs. Perkins as he lowers his head. “I’m so sorry. Are you two okay?”
“We’re okay,” I reply. “My heart is still beating out of control, but this little one seems completely unscathed.”
“Are you really going to call my mom?”
I almost feel sorry for Joey.
“You’ve known me long enough to know I certainly will, Joseph Griffin. Don’t press your luck with me, son, or I’ll call the judge and have your license taken away from you, too,” she threatens.
I have a feeling the judge’s name is used in threats frequently in this small community to help control the kids, much like Santa and that creepy tattletale elf are used at Christmas time.
If you don’t eat your vegetables, I’ll tell the judge to take away recess.
If you don’t do your homework, I’ll tell the judge to make school last year-round.
Fine. Don’t mind me, then. You’ll have to explain it to the judge and face the consequences.
River and I sit up on the tailgate and I slide off the edge onto my now shaky legs. That hot tub at the cabin is definitely calling my name, beckoning me to soak my muscles before they become too sore. “I believe this one belongs to you,” I say lightheartedly to Mrs. Perkins as I hand River over to her.
“What’s uhr name?” River asks as she squirms until Mrs. Perkins puts her down.
“My name is Layne. It’s nice to meet you, River.”
“Hold my hand, River.” Mrs. Perkins issues her command in her stern voice.
River complies and Mrs. Perkins turns her gaze back to me. Before I have time to react, she’s hugging me with her other arm and I feel River’s arms wrap around my leg, making it a group hug in the parking lot. “Thank you so much for what you did. You saved her life.” Her voice breaks when she speaks from the flood of emotions that overwhelm her. Tears are already spilling down her cheeks when she releases me.
“No need to thank me. Honestly. I’m just glad I was able to reach her in time. She’s so fast!”
“Don’t I know it,” she replies with a shake of her head. “My name is Rose, by the way. Rose Perkins.”
“It’s good to meet you, Rose.” I nod at her. “I’d better get my groceries loaded in my car now. I’m sure I’ll see you two again around town.”
“Joey, go load Layne’s groceries in her car for her right now, and I’ll consider telling your mom that all is not lost with you,” Rose demands.
“Yes, ma’am,” Joey replies without hesitation. “Which car is yours?”
“The Jeep right there.” I point to it and hand him the keys. When he walks away to grab my shopping cart, I turn to Rose. “That really wasn’t necessary. It’s no problem for me to load them myself.”
“He’s lucky I don’t have him scrubbing your toilets for a year,” Rose replies. “You could’ve been hurt, too. Taking care of your groceries is the very least he can do.”
Rose looks over my shoulder to supervise Joey and calls out to him. “And don’t smash her bread, Joseph Griffin, or you’ll go inside and buy her another loaf.”