by Giselle Fox
Jericho was pretty sure Claudia was referring to the summer she’d told her she wanted to try girls. “Vaguely,” Jericho said.
“That was a lot of fun.”
“And a very long time ago,” Jericho added.
“You haven’t changed, though.”
“Neither have you,” Jericho said. Being married hadn’t stopped Claudia from flirting one bit. “Well, I guess I should be going. Enjoy the rest of your day - and your iced coffee.”
Claudia squinted back at her and gave her a coy smile. “Sure I can’t change your mind?”
“I’m sure, but thanks, really. I should -” she pointed in the vague direction of her house.
“Alright. Don’t work too hard,” Claudia said.
Jericho tossed her jacket onto the passenger seat and climbed behind the wheel of her GTO.
“That sure is a sexy ride,” Claudia called as she stood there and watched.
“Thank you,” Jericho said. “See you around.”
“I sure hope so, Jeri.”
Jericho pulled through the lot and stopped at the road to let a car pass. She drummed her hands on the steering wheel and exhaled. In her rearview mirror, she saw Claudia wave again. Maybe in her wilder days, she wouldn’t have cared about whether a good-looking woman that constantly hit on her was married or not. Maybe.
It wasn’t like there were any single women beating down her door. The town was small enough that she knew pretty much everyone in it. And while a few women had been interesting, none had ever worked out. Jericho knew if she’d been more like her sisters, if she’d traveled or had moved to a big city, she’d have been better off. But she liked where she was. It was home.
She thought of her sister Lexi and wondered if the friend in Barcelona was the same woman she’d told Charlie about a few weeks before. It wasn’t like Lexi to cry about much, let alone a woman. She was the epitome of a lone wolf.
Jericho was about to turn onto the hill road when she remembered the construction notice she’d passed that morning. She continued down the boulevard instead. Soon, she was cutting through the old neighborhood where she and her sisters used to play, past the familiar rows of houses under lines of shady trees.
CHAPTER THREE
“Pass me the other one,” Taylor called.
“Which other one? The five-sixteenths or the quarter-inch?” her mother hollered.
Taylor sighed and blew a stray piece of black hair from her sweaty brow. “The one with the green paint on the handle, the five-sixteenths I think.”
The tool appeared through an empty space. “That’s the one. How’s Max?”
“He’s fine. He’s right where you left him.”
“Is his hat still on?”
“It’s on, don’t you worry.”
“Has he had any water?”
Her mother’s face appeared in the hole again. “He’s fine.”
“Alright, it’s just really hot out here.”
“Hell, I know, I’ve got a long-sleeved shirt on. I’m sweatin’ like a whore in church.”
“Mama!” Taylor glared up at her.
“Oh hush, he can’t hear me.”
“If my boy starts cussin’, you know who I’m coming after,” Taylor said. She held up her wrench for effect.
“Hurry up, I gotta pee,” her mother grumbled.
Taylor went back to what she was doing. “Almost done.”
“The belts are going to need replacing.”
“And the rear gearing, but that’s for another time,” Taylor said.
She slid out from under the car and pulled a rag from her back pocket. Her son was playing safely inside an enclosure of lawn chairs, dunking and rescuing little toy trucks in a plastic tub of soapy water. The neighborhood was active but calm. The old man across the road was trimming his hedge with a pair of clippers. Two doors down, the teenage son was mowing his lawn with his headphones on. A new mother walked by with her baby slung to her body and nodded to the old woman sitting on the porch next door. She waved to Max and Max squealed and waved back.
It was as close as Taylor had come to feeling at home in any kind of neighborhood for over a year. People were friendly and hadn’t asked questions. With her old car, a little boy, a mother, and no husband in sight, Taylor figured her story was clear to anyone with a set of eyes. They were rougher than most of the good people in the neighborhood, or at least it felt that way. In the beginning, she wasn’t sure they would ever blend. Whether her own edge had been softened by the distance from her old life, she wasn’t sure. But even with her tattoos hidden under a long-sleeved shirt - her mother’s edge seemed just as jagged.
“Oh sugar! I forgot about the dog,” Taylor gasped.
“He’s right -,” her mother stopped mid-sentence and whirled around. “He was right under the tree chewing on that squeaky thing a second ago.”
Taylor wiped her brow with the back of her arm. “He can’t have gone far then. Check the back would you?”
“On it.”
Taylor ran out to the sidewalk and looked up the street. “Digger!” she called. “Digger Dog!”
She looked back the other way just in time to see a little black ball of fur dart out into the middle of the road. Just then, a big red convertible came cruising around the corner. Before Taylor could scream, the car screeched to a halt.
“He’s not back there,” her mother called as she returned from the backyard.
“Watch Max!” Taylor said as she ran out into the street. “He’s mine!” She waved to the driver who was trying her best to grab hold of Digger’s collar. The little dog zigged and zagged and then finally cowered in the shadow of the big red car. The woman bent down and grabbed hold. “Got him,” she called.
“I’m sorry, he wasn’t on his leash. Thank you for stopping!” Taylor said.
“I’m just glad I saw him.” Digger gave the woman a few licks under her chin. She gave him a patient smile. “Okay, fine, you’re cute even if you’re trouble.” She handed him back to Taylor. “He’s all yours.” She gave Taylor a long look and smiled.
“Thanks! Oh my God, that was too close.” Taylor wiped her palm on her jeans and offered it. “I’m Taylor. This little fuzzball is Digger.”
“I’m Jericho,” the woman said as she pulled off her sunglasses. Behind them were friendly, blue-green eyes.
Taylor thought she looked like someone she recognized but she couldn’t place who. “Jericho,” she repeated, “don’t hear that name much. I like it.”
“Thank you. I like yours too.”
Taylor gripped Digger tight under one arm and shielded her eyes from the sun. Jericho was taller than she was, blond and tanned. Her white collared shirt fit snug to her body. The camel-colored skirt she wore looked new and expensive.
Jericho leaned back against her convertible. “I haven’t seen you around the neighborhood before. Are you visiting?”
Taylor nodded back toward her house where her mother was standing in the driveway with Max in her arms. “Mine is the blue one.”
Jericho looked up the street. “Right, the Proctor’s place.”
“We moved in about a month ago.”
Jericho nodded. “I didn’t realize Al put it up for rent. I don’t usually drive this way but they’re doing construction on the hill road.”
“You live up on the hill?” Taylor asked. Judging from her clothes and car, she looked like she might belong in one of the fancy houses up there.
“Yes, at the top,” Jericho said.
Taylor had been up there with Max enough times to know there was only one house at the top. “The big place next to the park?”
“That’s the one,” Jericho said. She reached out and scratched Digger behind his ear and gave Taylor another smile. “It’s a gorgeous day to be outside.”
“It is,” Taylor agreed. She looked back. Her mother was still at the curb. “Mama’s probably wondering if something happened.”
“That her?”
Taylor nodded. “A
nd my son.” She waved at them and watched them wave back.
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Taylor. I’ll probably see you around.”
“Thanks so much again for stopping,” Taylor smiled. “I swear, I nearly had a heart attack when I saw him run out in front of you.”
Jericho laughed. “It’s no problem. I always take it slow through here.” She walked back to her car.
Taylor made her way along the sidewalk with Digger in her arms. When she heard the throaty rumble of the GTO start up behind her, she stopped and watched as Jericho put it in gear and drove slowly by.
“Don’t see many 74’s around in that kind of shape,” Taylor called. “Pretty nice.”
Jericho slowed down to a crawl. “You like old cars?”
“Sure ... when they run,” Taylor laughed. “I just finished putting new tie rods on my Coronet. It’s parked up in the driveway.” She nodded toward her house.
“What year?”
“It’s a ‘68 440.”
Jericho whistled. “Need any help?”
Taylor smiled. It was a nice offer but she couldn’t imagine a woman dressed that nice could do much around all that dirt and grease. “No, I got it. But thanks.”
Jericho drove along slowly beside her until they reached the front of Taylor’s house. Then she pulled over and parked. “Mind if I take a look?”
“No, not at all,” Taylor said. She waited as Jericho stepped out of the car and waved to the old man that lived across the street.
“Hi, Mr. Daliday.”
“Hello, Jeri. How have you been keeping?”
“Well, sir. How about you?”
“Can’t complain. How are your grandparents?”
“They’re good. They’re in Tanzania right now.”
“Oh, my! That’s a long way from home.”
“It is,” Jericho laughed.
“Taking the long way, today?”
“There’s construction on the back side. I was just coming to have a look at your neighbor’s wheels,” she said and pointed to Taylor’s car.
“Oh well, you girls have fun,” he said and gave a little salute to them both.
Taylor walked across the street with Jericho alongside. Her mother watched from the driveway. She put Max down and let him toddle to greet her.
“Lucinda, this is Jericho,” Taylor said as she lifted Max into her arms. “She lives in the big house on top of the hill.”
Her mother’s eyes focused hard on their visitor but she gave Jericho a courteous smile. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Lucinda. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Thank you. We’re liking it so far.”
Jericho walked over to the Coronet and ducked under the hood. She poked around the engine while Taylor and her mother exchanged looks.
“Not bad - six-pack cam lifters, Edelbrock carbs,” Jericho said.
Taylor hadn’t expected that. Her mother seemed just as surprised. “Um, yeah.”
“These valve leaks are pretty common,” Jericho said as she ran her finger around the base of one. “After-market covers never fit right.”
Taylor knew she was right. “I’ve been looking for some cheap stock ones.”
Jericho stood up and inspected her dirty hands. Taylor pulled the rag from her back pocket and handed it to her. Her mother began to chuckle and then shook her head. Jericho smiled at them both.
“Sorry, you just don’t look like any of the mechanics we know,” Taylor said.
“Nope,” her mother muttered. “Definitely not.”
Jericho grinned and wiped her hands on the rag. She eyed the few tools that were spread out on the asphalt. “It’s a hobby. I run a workshop on car maintenance for women down at the high school on Wednesday nights. You know, you could bring this down and use the equipment there.”
Taylor looked over at her mother. “Could be a good idea.”
“And there’s coffee and all the day-old donuts you could possibly want to eat,” Jericho added. She flashed Taylor another smile.
“I would like to get this thing running better before winter,” Taylor said. Max began to squirm in her arms. “You need some lunch, little man?”
“I can take him in if you want to clean up out here,” her mother said.
Taylor passed her son over and they exchanged another look. Both were so used to being wary of strangers that silent conversations like that had practically become second nature.
“Check the jam too, would you mama?”
“I will,” she said. “Nice to meet you, Jericho.”
“Nice to meet you too, Lucinda.”
Taylor watched her mother disappear inside the house. She looked back at Jericho. “I should probably pack up these tools before they melt.” Heat was radiating off the asphalt.
Jericho handed her a wrench from under the hood of the car.
“Thanks.” Taylor packed it back into her old metal toolbox and watched Jericho gather a few other stray tools from the ground. After spending the last year constantly moving and covering their tracks, it wasn’t easy to just relax and chat with someone. But Jericho seemed genuine. She considered asking her what she did for a living, but small talk always led to more questions and questions usually meant she’d have to start making up lies. Still, Jericho didn’t seem to be making any moves to leave.
“So ... fixing your car and making jam? That’s quite a busy morning,” Jericho said as she passed her another tool.
She was trying to make conversation, Taylor could tell that much. She looked back toward the house and figured there was no harm in chatting for awhile.
“There was a pile of canning jars left down in the basement. Al was going to get rid of them all so I thought I’d make something for the fall fair.” Taylor didn’t mention the other part - that they needed the money.
Jericho smiled. “That’s great to hear. It was a lot of fun last year. I think the whole town showed up.”
“Well, I hope they like jam ‘cause I’m making lots of it,” Taylor laughed. “The organizers were nice enough to give me a table in the shade because of Max and the puppy.”
“There are some good people on that committee,” Jericho said as she eyed the rubber on Taylor’s car.
Taylor turned back and looked at Jericho’s convertible parked out in the street. “How long have you had the GTO?”
“A couple of years now. It came with the house. Actually, it’s still technically my grandfather’s, but I like to pretend it’s mine.”
Taylor laughed. “I think I would too.”
Jericho grinned.
“So the house on the hill was your grandparents’?”
Jericho nodded. “They wanted to downsize and travel. So … I took it over.” She looked back at Taylor and smiled again. “It’s home.”
“Hey, Jeri,” a woman called as she drove by. Jericho waved back.
“Seems like everyone knows you around here,” Taylor said.
“They do, I guess. I grew up here.”
Taylor bent and reached through her driver side window to grab her sunglasses off the dash. In her side view mirror, she caught where Jericho’s eyes landed. She paused a moment where she was just to be sure she was seeing right. There was no question, she was. She slid her sunglasses on and leaned back against the car door.
From where she stood, it looked like any sunny summer afternoon: the fast old cars, the quiet suburban neighborhood, people working out in their yards, even the two of them chatting - like any pair of neighbors would. But catching a woman like Jericho boldly checking out her assets was something Taylor truly hadn’t expected. She tucked the greasy rag deeper into her back pocket and gave Jericho a long look.
Jericho flipped her hand through her hair and leaned her hip casually against the Coronet. Her back was to the sun. Its rays painted her tousled locks in hues of gold and flax. Her blue-green eyes seemed both confident and shy. Every time they met Taylor’s, a smile followed. The silence lingered between
them. Any other time, Taylor would have taken it as an opportunity to say goodbye. But since she was already home ...
“So ... you know your way around town yet?” Jericho asked.
Taylor figured she knew it as well as she needed to since it would only be temporary. “I’ve looked around some,” she answered. “We’ve been settling in, mostly.”
“I guess you keep pretty busy with a toddler.”
“Well, I’m not alone,” she said and watched Jericho’s face closely.
Jericho folded her arms and glanced down at the ground. “Right, of course.”
“I just mean ... I have my mother.”
“Right, your mother. That’s handy.”
There was no ring on Jericho’s finger, though she was wearing other jewelry: a gold necklace and small gold earrings, a gold chain around her wrist. “Are you married?” Taylor asked. “Or do you live up in that big house all by yourself?”
“Um ... nope. I’m single,” Jericho said. Her eyes flashed up at Taylor again.
Taylor smiled back at her. “Smart lady. Marriage ain’t everything.”
“Right,” Jericho said. “Are you …?”
“Divorced,” Taylor said quickly. She scuffed at the ground with her shoe. “Done and done.”
Jericho seemed to study her face a moment but then she smiled again. “So ... this is a fresh start?”
“Yep,” Taylor said. At least that was what she wanted people to think. They generally stopped asking questions once she mentioned the word divorce.
Taylor looked down at her worn out skate shoes and then glanced at Jericho’s nice leather sling-backs.
Jericho glanced down at her shoes too. “I was just at a meeting. Can’t wait to change into some real clothes.” The edges of her bangs played softly around her eyes. She gave her head a little flick and they were swept away.
“So, what time is the workshop tomorrow night?” Taylor asked.
“Starts at six,” Jericho said. “Thinking you might come down?”
Taylor looked her car over. “I think I will.”
“We have some volunteers that do childcare if Lucinda wants a night to herself.”