Harris gritted her teeth before yanking her seatbelt out and slamming it in the buckle. After she turned around, she couldn’t resist a look in her rearview mirror. Turbo stood with his hands braced against the side of the garage, his head down.
He looked so dejected and discouraged that her heart cracked. Another glance at the time showed she had no choice but to keep going, as much as she wanted to turn around and make him believe she wasn’t ashamed of him or their relationship. As confident and cocky as he always seemed, it was almost inconceivable to her that innocent words she hadn’t meant to come out in a mean-spirited way had hurt him so badly.
At the next stoplight, she texted him. It was a long enough wait that she was able to get in about six sentences explaining that he’d misunderstood.
After she hit “send,” the light was still red. She scrolled up. He’d never texted her. How had she not noticed that before?
He hadn’t answered by the time the light turned green. She made it to the library parking lot with two minutes to spare.
Digging her keys out of her purse on her way up the library steps, Harris knew she wouldn’t have time to breathe until after practice was over tonight, since the library was hosting a book club this afternoon, movie night for elementary kids after school, and pizza and a book night for teens until closing. Not to mention their back rooms were always booked up in the fall.
She took one last look at her blank phone before shoving it in her purse. She’d see Turbo tonight and explain.
Chapter 17
TURBO WALKED INTO THE old theater at seven thirty on the dot. He’d already spent two hours practicing the music with the music director and the small orchestra of volunteers they’d put together. The songs hadn’t been hard to learn, and he’d done okay with his parts, even if he couldn’t read a lick of the music or words that they’d handed him to use.
He’d been able to be funny and personable, as everyone expected him to be, and no one had known that his chest felt empty. How something that felt empty could also be on fire was a mystery he’d maybe try to figure out another time. He didn’t have the heart for it today.
He’d stopped at the restroom before leaving and allowed everyone else to get out ahead of him. Because the scenery people were working on the stage, they’d practiced in the church next door. Handy that the music director of the church was also the one directing the music for the play.
That’s how everyone else was in their place, with Harris standing on the stage, explaining what was going to happen.
Her long hair was caught up in a bun, which emphasized her slender white neck and high cheekbones.
His heart pinched. Okay, so his chest wasn’t completely empty. It could still feel pain.
Removing his ball cap, he shoved his other hand in his pocket and slid in the last row, throwing his hat down on the seat beside him. He’d quit early and showered, dressed as he always had in a button-down shirt and clean jeans, good boots. His hair was dry, but he’d noticed it was curling at the ends, and he needed a cut. Not for the first time in his life, he wished for a pair of dog clippers. Sitting still in the barber’s chair was torture.
Harris’s voice washed over him. How could these other people sit here and listen to her and not break out in goosebumps? Slightly husky, totally seductive, her voice had captivated him long ago. No wonder she was able to get little kids to sit still and listen to her read. Even at their young ages, they could tell there was something magical about her voice.
Her eyes skipped over him. His fingers tightened on the armrest. Yeah, he’d figured she wouldn’t want to be talking to him here. He shoved down the burning in the back of his throat.
She continued to talk, saying they’d go through the whole thing, hoping that many had their lines memorized. He grimaced. He’d had an earbud in all afternoon and Annie playing constantly.
Harris reminded them how soon it was until the first production. She also mentioned that she’d had a report about online sales from the theater, and they’d been stronger than she’d expected.
“We’re twenty tickets from selling out.” She took a deep breath. “I’d like to add two matinees, Saturday afternoon and Sunday afternoon. I’d also like to consider opening up the dress rehearsal Friday night to paid attendees. Maybe at a discount.”
There was some discussion about it, and they decided to give it a go. It didn’t matter to Turbo. So he stayed out of the discussion. He’d just have to make sure he got home in time on Friday afternoon, since his truck was finally done and ready to roll. He hoped he didn’t get caught in traffic anywhere on Friday, either, that would make him last for their dress rehearsal.
The rehearsal started. Many of the actors were still holding their scripts. Camila didn’t. Mia didn’t either. She was a true professional. And she was doing a great job. According to the movie, he was supposed to kiss her tonight. He didn’t have a clue what the play version actually said. He’d considered asking, since the subject hadn’t been broached in their read-throughs, either.
As Turbo watched, he was impressed with the local high school’s drama department, which was taking care of all the sound effects, special effects, and scenery changes. He hadn’t expected it to be this good.
He went over several of the tricky parts in his head—the ones that didn’t follow the movie. That’s where he always got stuck and where Harris thought he was deliberately goofing. Well, he wasn’t going to deliberately goof today. He wasn’t sure, exactly, what he actually was going to do, but...something. He was going to do something, if he couldn’t remember his lines.
He didn’t worry about it; he’d faked it so many times before, something would occur to him if he needed it. So he was able to get into the performance.
Acting was fun, and he enjoyed it. He supposed his brothers were right, he was a natural ham. It was easy to smile and be benevolent to Camila. A little harder to put any kind of heat in his gaze for Grace, as they undressed Annie together after the movie. Punjab and Miss Hannigan did their parts amazingly well, and they pulled him up.
He stumbled a couple of times with his lines, but since he wasn’t holding his book, Harris called them out to him, and he didn’t have to find an excuse for not reading. All in all, it went well until they came to the scene that replaced the helicopter scene. They had changed it to a car scene, where Punjab was with him and they were searching for Annie. He’d fumbled this many times, especially since the dialogue was so different than the movie and it was only Punjab and him, so he had to carry half the conversation. He adlibbed a lot, which annoyed Harris. Finally she cut the scene for the fourth time. She walked onstage and handed him her script.
“Here. Just read this, then go home tonight and study. You have everything else down so well, it’s a mystery as to why this part gives you fits.” She paused, and he read the little bit of fear in her eyes before she covered it. “I can stay after tonight if you want to work on this part.”
“I could help too,” Mia called from backstage.
Harris’s eyes flickered. Her chin jutted out. “Just start right here, at the second line.” She pointed her finger to somewhere on the page.
Turbo’s breath came fast, and his heart pounded in his ears. He couldn’t do the goof-off stuff he usually did. She was tired of it, and she took it like he was disrespecting her every time. With the sound people and the scenery people and the stagehands, plus the entire cast...there were even more people here today, and she would feel even more disrespected and embarrassed if he made everyone laugh and somehow weaseled out of reading this. Again.
In his mind, it suddenly became very clear. He could fudge, wiggle, make everyone laugh, and somehow get someone else to read him his lines, which would embarrass and annoy Harris. Or he could admit the truth. Which would embarrass no one but himself and would make no one but himself look bad. If he did it now, before anyone knew that Harris and he might have been a couple, she wouldn’t even have to deal with that added issue, and he would neve
r embarrass her again.
Her jaw tightened, and her eyes narrowed. She pointed at the spot on the page again. “Are you going to start?”
Her gaze asked, Or are you going to start your stupid crap that makes the entire cast think this is a comedy show?
He stood from the chair that doubled as his seat in the car.
“I can’t.”
Her head jerked back, and she blinked. “You can’t?” Immediately, her eyes narrowed. “Would you care to explain why you can’t, Mr. Baxter?”
He took a deep breath. His temple pounded, and blood rushed in his ears. His vision narrowed so the only thing he saw was Harris. “I would if I could. But I have no idea where you want me to start or what I’m supposed to say, because I can’t read.” He let out a shaky breath and tried and failed to gather enough spit to swallow.
Harris stood still. Her mouth opened and closed.
Dimly, Turbo registered a few titters behind him, like someone thought he was joking. He didn’t move, and of course, he didn’t laugh, and the titters subsided into stunned silence.
EVERY INTERACTION SHE’D had with Turbo replayed through Harris’s mind in the short seconds that ticked by. His refusal to help with the scripts, his threat to deliver the wrong library books to the nursing home residents, how he talked her into watching the movie instead of studying the lines, how he’d helped with the book—but only by giving ideas, not by writing anything down—how he’d never texted her...but mostly how he’d made a joke anytime he didn’t know his lines at all the practices they’d had so far. He joked to take the focus off the fact that he couldn’t read. And he’d just taken that focus and admitted something humbling and shameful to keep her from feeling disrespected and like she was losing control of the practice. Because he’d promised he wouldn’t do it anymore.
He’d kept his word.
And he couldn’t read. It was true. She knew it with all her heart. This wasn’t another of his goofy jokes or pranks.
She didn’t know what to say.
She didn’t know what to do, either. Her heart had swelled so big and so thick in her chest that it felt like it would burst.
Suddenly the quiet that had descended on the entire stage burst into excited talking. People pointed to the door, but Harris couldn’t look. Her gaze was held captive by Turbo’s.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked softly. Then she realized. It was his secret. This, this, was what he knew would be a deal-breaker between them. She shook her head. Was it? “You can’t read at all?”
One side of his mouth tightened. His jaw twitched. But he answered. “A few small words. My name. I can write my address.”
He looked vulnerable in a way she’d never seen before. Her heart melted. It couldn’t change anything. He was still the same man who cared for kids and who hung out at the nursing home and who helped a little girl with cancer write a book and who used his truck as entertainment for the sick. Still the same man who cut and split firewood for the elderly and held her under the stars and kissed her with an explosive passion she’d never felt before.
But he couldn’t read.
She was a librarian.
“Hey, Harris! Look who just walked back in,” someone yelled.
Turbo’s face was expressionless. He wasn’t begging her to understand or even accept. It was like he was okay with however she reacted. She just didn’t know how to react. She was so...shocked. How had he fooled everyone all his life? How had he even graduated? She was there. She saw him graduate. The principal had handed him a diploma.
“Harris?”
She jerked her gaze away from Turbo’s deep brown eyes.
“Yeah?” She cleared her throat, hoping her voice dropped back into its normal octave, since that last word sounded like Minnie Mouse had taken up residence in her throat. It wouldn’t have surprised her.
Turbo couldn’t read.
“What?” she asked Camila, who was tugging on her arm.
“Look.” She pointed at the foot of the stage. “Daddy Warbucks is back.”
“Ransom Blythe?” Harris walked over, squinting. “Is that you?” He was supposed to be playing off-Broadway. But her ex-Daddy Warbucks was, indeed, back.
He smiled, confident and a little cocky. “It is. I figured I’d come back and see if you still want me.”
“But I thought you were doing an...”
“Didn’t pan out,” he said before she could finish. He shrugged. “I don’t have anything else going on and figured I’d come on back and see if you still wanted me.” It was phrased as a pleasant conversation, but his tone indicated he expected to be given the part.
“Well...” She straightened.
Turbo had shoved both hands in his pockets and walked around the “car.” He stopped a good ten feet away from her. She could read nothing in his expression.
How could she tell Ransom she didn’t need him? After all, Turbo was doing better than she’d ever thought he would. But this man was a professional, and she had to be careful of his ego.
While she was still trying to form the words, Turbo spoke. “I’ll save you the trouble of figuring things out, Harris.” He paused. “I quit.”
Harris wouldn’t have been more surprised if he’d turned into a zebra and announced he was running for president. It took her several seconds to stop her mouth from opening and closing. It was the second time in the last ten minutes that he’d shocked her.
Before she could gather her wits, he’d strode off the stage, his stride confident, the tilt of his broad shoulders just as cocky as ever.
She opened her mouth to call after him.
Ransom jumped onto the stage. “Well, that settles it, then. I spent the ride back from NYC reviewing my lines. I already had them memorized, and I’m ready to jump in.” He kept talking about the car and the scene. Harris heard him, but her eyes followed Turbo as he walked out the back doors of the theater. He didn’t turn around.
Chapter 18
THURSDAY EVENING, TURBO bobtailed into his driveway. He’d dropped his trailer at Torque’s and planned to do the brakes on it the next day, since the load he had been scheduled to pick up this evening had cancelled.
Just as well. He’d run almost nonstop all week, starting Sunday afternoon. After his truck had been down, he needed the income to catch himself back up.
If his load for tonight hadn’t cancelled on such short notice, he would have searched harder for a replacement. After all, the idea of slowing down or, heaven forbid, stopping for any length of time was scary. He might have to think. And he didn’t want to do that.
Because then he’d have to admit that he’d actually thought that maybe Harris wouldn’t have minded his secret. He should have known better.
He blinked. How had he missed Harris’s car that was parked in his driveway?
Pulling the yellow knob, he set the brakes with a long hiss. A sound he wanted to emulate. It had been five days, and she hadn’t called. Now she was parked in his drive. What could she possibly want?
He checked the engine temp before shutting his rig off and climbing out of the cab. Wary.
She appeared around the house, a cute, ruffled green apron tied around her slender waist. Her loose hair tumbled down her shoulders and chest. A long, very librarianish skirt covered most of her legs, and her feet were tucked in serviceable shoes.
He stopped with one hand on the door of his truck, like maybe he’d need to make a quick getaway.
She held his hat up. “I thought you might want this.”
He ran a hand through the hair he’d never cut. He hadn’t taken the time to buy a new hat this week, but he hadn’t figured he’d ever see that one again.
“Thanks,” he said.
She walked a little closer. He held his ground. “I thought you might want me to teach you to read.” Her face gave nothing away.
He, frankly, was a little surprised. Whatever he’d been expecting from her, it wasn’t that. He jerked his head at his truck. “Right after yo
u learn to drive this.”
Her eyes widened and moved to his truck. Her lips flattened.
Yeah. That’s what he thought. Everyone thought reading was so easy. It wasn’t easy to some people.
“I’ve got a casserole in the oven. You can start to teach me as soon as it’s done.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at it. “Although DeShaun is going to be here in fifteen minutes. And Miss Beulah is bringing Pap.” Her chin lifted. The tilt of her face made her freckles more prominent.
He searched her face, looking for the vulnerability or the hidden agenda. What was she saying? The hard wall that he’d spent the week trying to build up around his heart, all the time he’d spent trying to convince himself he didn’t care what Harris thought, everything, it was all crumbling. He sucked a breath in, trying to be strong.
“You don’t really want to learn to drive.” He said it flatly, spitting the words out so they didn’t choke him.
She walked closer, stopping beside his front fender. Close enough he caught her sassy-serious scent. It toyed with his nose, seducing his good intentions. He tightened his grip on the door pocket.
“No,” she said softly, “I don’t. Will you hate me if I don’t know how?”
He didn’t know how he felt, what he wanted—he wanted to run, he wanted to stay—but one thing he did know. “I will never hate you.”
She looked down, shifting her feet. “Now that you’ve brought the subject up. I was kind of wondering how you really do feel...” She looked him in the eye. “About me.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I mean, I think I kind of know. And, maybe since you’ve done so much for me, maybe I should go first?”
“Shoot,” he said, not sure if he wanted to know. But he wasn’t the kind to run. Except that’s exactly what he’d done this week, since he walked out of practice Saturday night. Run.
“I’ve been here every day this week. In your house. Because the door isn’t locked. I’ve waited for you to come home. I’ve called your brothers and forced my friends to keep tabs on their husbands and let me know if they could figure out what you were doing. That’s how I’m here now, by the way. Cassidy called and said that you’d dropped your trailer.”
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