Walking Away, Part 5

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Walking Away, Part 7

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Walking Away, Part 1

 

Tim realized now that he should have seen the signs. Their first year apart had been rocky, but they'd survived. They had a great summer, even though Lyla seemed a little distant at times. Now, when he looked back, he could see the red flags he'd missed the first time around. Especially the admiration in her voice when she talked about Rafe. How he spoke French and real Spanish, the kind they speak in Spain. Not the Mexican Spanish that they teach in high school in Texas.

Everything in Vanderbilt was different, better, more cultured than what they had in Texas. And while he knew that was the whole reason that he'd told her to go, it didn't mean it hurt any less when she talked about all her fancy new friends. Especially Rafe.

Rafe? What the hell kind of name was that anyway? Tim sighed and shook his head, reminding himself to focus on the road. The last thing he needed right now was to get a speeding ticket or have an accident. It was bad enough to be driving home from San Antonio State in disgrace.

It seemed like such a good plan, in theory. Lyla's birthday was on a Wednesday. He'd go to his morning practice, then drive to the airport for his flight to Nashville. Hitchhike or catch a cab to the college and surprise Lyla. Have a great night together, get back on Thursday, just in time for afternoon practice.

He'd only miss two practices. He knew he'd probably have to do something to make up for it, maybe run the stairs until his legs fell off, but it would all be worth it to see Lyla's face when she opened the door and saw him standing there. Plus, when he took out her birthday present, which was inside a black velvet-lined jewelry box small enough to hide in his fist like a magician, well, he knew it would all be worth it.

He realized now that he should have told the coach, made up some excuse - a funeral or something. But Tim operated on the principle that it was easier to get forgiveness than permission, so he'd jumped into this birthday surprise plan with both feet. It was going great, all the way up until the moment when he arrived at the campus. It was so much nicer than San Antonio State, all trees, perfect lawns, and brick walkways. He felt lost even though he had a map and knew exactly where he was going and why.

He was walking briskly up the path toward her dorm when he passed a couple kissing near a tree. The girl's dress, a white cotton number that was perfect for the muggy Indian Summer day, reminded him of Lyla and Mexico. He smiled and allowed himself another glance at the couple. He didn't want to be that freaky guy who stares at PDAs, but he figured a quick look wouldn't hurt.

Only it hurt more than he could have imagined, since he quickly saw that the white dress reminded him of Lyla because it was her dress, and she was wearing it while kissing some guy. He wanted to tackle the guy and hurt him, seriously hurt him, but he found his muscles wouldn't listen to him. He was frozen on the spot. The couple stopped kissing and started walking toward him.

He watched the emotions that moved over Lyla's face - first puzzlement, then surprise, then guilt. The guilt stuck around for several seconds, but then was replaced by something that made him sad. It was the look you get before you have to do something you don't want to do, like when you have to put a beloved pet to sleep. A complicated mixture of pity, sorrow, and determination.

She said something to the guy in Spanish. Or maybe it was French. Tim had no idea, but whatever it was, the guy took a few steps backwards and then walked away. Tim watched him leave, annoyed that he only moved off about a hundred feet, as though he felt he had to monitor the situation.

"What are you doing here?" Lyla asked.

"Who's that?" Tim's voice was low and raspy. He decided that no matter what happened, he was going to get through the conversation without crying or getting angry. He was giving her nothing. Not if he could help it.

"Rafe." She looked at her feet, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Happy Birthday, Lyla." Tim turned and walked away. He ignored her calls for him to come back. He kept his back straight and his head up all the way to the airport. Only then did he allow himself to slouch. He stopped in the bathroom first and washed his face, wishing he could rinse the whole experience off and watch it swirl down the silver drain.

In a moment of anger and irrationality, he considered tossing her gift in the trash. He took a deep breath and let it out through puffed-out cheeks, then decided to bury the small box in the bottom of his backpack instead.

He tried to get an earlier flight, but everything was booked. He spent most of the evening in the airport bar and the rest of the night passed out in an uncomfortable airport chair. He didn't hear the thunder as the worst storms in 100 years moved across the Plains and hit Nashville with a vengence. He knew nothing about it as he stumbled toward the gate just before his flight was due to take off.

The flight was cancelled. In fact, all the flights for the day were cancelled. He tried to get a flight out on Friday, but the earliest they could fit him in was Sunday night. He wasn't just missing practices. Now he was going to miss a game. He knew that forgiveness from the coach probably wasn't an option anymore. He called the coach's office phone in the middle of the night and left a garbled message.

He realized now, from the altogether different perspective of his truck on the way back to Dillon, that the message had been a mistake. It made it sound like he was on a several day bender. Which he sort of was, having nothing else to do at the airport. But he wasn't missing the game because of the alcohol. He saw now how the coach could apply the logic of cause and effect and come to the wrong conclusion.

When he'd finally returned to the dorm, his roommate, a sophomore cornerback, confirmed that he was in more trouble than trouble itself. Tim looked around the room and weighed his options. The way he saw it, he could wait until the next morning to get kicked off the team, lose his scholarship, and go home in disgrace. Or he could hit the road now.

Which is how he found himself pulling into Riggins' Rigs at 3 am. He knew he could have gone home. He thought Mindy or Billy might be up with the new baby anyway, but he wasn't quite ready to face their disappointment. Not quite yet. He needed at least a half-a-night's decent sleep first. So he let himself into the garage, curled up on the old black couch that was just slightly more comfortable than the airport chair and fell asleep.

His sleep was deep and dreamless until the morning, when he started to dream that a giant beast had cornered him and was about to hurt him. He panicked and jerked away, only to find himself face-to-face with a growling dog. A big, black growling dog.

Tim wanted to put as much space as possible between him and the snarling dog, but he was already up against the back of the narrow couch. He didn't know what to do.

If he sat up, would that set off the dog? Was he supposed to look at it? Not look at it? He tried to remember anything he'd ever seen on television about being cornered by an angry animal, but the only thing that popped into his head with the scene in "Jurassic Park," where they stayed very still so the T-Rex couldn't see them. Completely useless.

"Here's how it's going to work. I'll get Bruno to back off and you're going to walk straight outta here without any hassle. You cool with that?" The voice was on the lower, husky side, but definitely belonged to a woman. Tim has been so focused on the dog, he didn't see the person standing on the other side of the garage.

"I don't know who you are, lady, but my brother owns this place."

"Tim?"

"Yeah. Who the hell are you?" Tim was confused. He knew Billy had hired someone to help out at the garage, but he thought it was a guy. Abe? Adam? Albert? Some name that started with A. It seemed like whenever he and Billy talked, it was a rushed conversation on bad cell phone lines, with the new baby wailing in the background. They weren't much for talking anyway and the phone just made it worse.

The woman whistled and the dog trotted over to her side. Tim jumped up from the couch, ignoring the groans in some of his muscles and joints. He ran a hand through his hair and watched as the woman approached him. She was tiny, couldn't be more than five feet or weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Hell, the dog probably weighed more than she did. Her hair was a riot of blonde curls that she'd managed to corral into an unruly ponytail. She was wearing baggy gray combat pants and a light blue button-down shirt with a name patch.

"I'm Al," she said with a smile, extending her hand.

Tim's hand swallowed her tiny one and he was afraid to squeeze too hard. She didn't have any such fear. Her handshake was firm almost to the point of uncomfortableness.

"I thought you were a guy. I mean, not now... obviously you're a girl, but Billy said he hired someone..." Tim shook his head and let the sentence trail off. It was early in the morning, his life was shit, and now he was sounding like Saracen or something. The worst part was that he was pretty sure this was going to be the highlight of his day. Once Billy heard what happened, well, Tim didn't want to think about it.

Al smiled. "Yeah, happens all the time. This is Bruno. Say hi, Bruno."

The dog barked once and gave Tim his paw.

Tim smiled, surprised by the change in the dog. He gave the mutt a scratch behind the ears.

"What kind of dog is he? He's huge."

"Great Dane. And first impressions aside, he's actually a sweetheart. A bit protective of me, though, and I was surprised and a little scared to find someone in here."

Bruno was now standing next to Tim, leaning up against him. The weight of the dog was comforting and Tim absentmindedly pet him.

"Wouldn't want to get on his bad side, Hey, what time is it?" asked Tim.

"Six-thirty. Come on, I'm going to make some coffee before the mad rush starts. You look like you could use some."

Tim stretched and then followed her into the break room, which was really just a small kitchen with a table and some chairs. Al ground some coffee beans in a machine that made Tim's ears hurt. Then she put them into a thing that looked like it came from the chemistry lab at school.

"What's that?"

"That's how I make coffee."

"What's wrong with a Mr. Coffee machine?"

She shrugged. "I just like it this way."

She put the coffee maker thing on the table and got a couple of mugs from a cupboard.

"It'll be a few minutes."

They both sat at the table in silence. It wasn't awkward, exactly, but Tim was surprised she wasn't asking him questions. Maybe Billy didn't know. Maybe he could somehow let Billy know in a way that wouldn't cause him to get upset.

"Billy knows," said Al.

Tim's head jerked up and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Knows what?"

"Knows that you went AWOL from school. And yeah, he's as pissed as you imagine and then some."

Tim groaned, planted his elbows on the table and hid his face in his hands. He composed himself after a minute and looked up at Al, who was pouring a cup of coffee. She pushed it over to him and then poured one for herself. Tim dumped four spoonfuls of sugar into his cup. He noticed that she was drinking hers black, no sugar or anything.

"How?"

"The coach called him late Friday night. But even if he hadn't, you picked a crappy game to disappear. Oklahoma - you know it was on ESPN, right?"

Tim cursed under his breath and took a sip of his coffee. It was good, really good. So much better than the weak crap he got at the school cafeteria.

"So pretty much the whole world knows I missed the game?"

Al nodded, but said nothing else. She was just drinking her coffee, like it was no big deal, like they were old friends who did this all the time.

"Aren't you going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?" She sounded genuinely puzzled.

"Ask me what happened? Where I was? What's going on? Why am I here? There are about four hundred things you could be asking me."

"How's your coffee?" She had an impish grin. With her sharp features and small size, she reminded Tim of a pixie from one of those video games Landry liked to play.

Tim blinked, confused. "Nice. It's real nice."

Al sighed and put her mug down on the table. "Look, Tim, I've known you all of ten minutes. It ain't my business to get all up in your business. And really, you're going to do a lot of explaining and talking today. So, whatever you want to tell me, fine. But I think you should save it for the guy who really matters, the boss."

Before Tim could respond, they were interrupted by the ding of a bell. She stood and picked up her mug.

"That's got to be Mr. Trucks. He's always too damn early."

Tim finished his coffee before wandering back into the garage. He found Al up to her elbows in the engine of a Honda Civic, Bruno stretched out and sleeping near her feet. He tried to remember what Billy had told him about the new employee. Great with cars, good business mind, insisted they get a computer to track the books and customers and stuff.

"Hey, Al, when does Billy get in?"

"I don't know. Depends on how his night was with the baby. Anytime between 7 and 10, really."

Tim jammed his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. He didn't know if it would be better to go to the house and confront Billy's anger there or wait for him at the garage, which was starting to feel like waiting for a firing squad. He was thinking maybe the garage, a sort of public place, might be better. Or maybe it would be worse. He sighed because it felt like he was just going to make the wrong decision anyway. It seemed to be the only kind that he ever made.

"Is your name Alison?"

"Huh, what? No." Al's head was still under the hood and her voice was slightly muffled. Tim smiled. You wouldn't expect such a big, husky voice to come out of such a little person. It reminded him of an actress in one of those black and white films Lyla had made him watch. Lyla. He shook his head, hoping to dislodge the image of her and Rafe.

"Then what's Al short for?"

"Nothing. It's from that song - 'You Can Call Me Al.'"

Tim sensed there was a story there, but Al didn't continue. He was about to ask her what her real name was when Billy came into the shop. When he spotted Tim, his stride lengthened to cover the distance between them more quickly and he stretched his arm out, pointing an accusing finger.

"You've got about 15 seconds to get your ass in the truck so we can get you back to school."

Pissed didn't even start to cover it. Enraged would be closer to the mark.

"Billy, let me explain."

"Oh, you'll explain. But you'll be doing it in the truck."

"I'm not going back." Tim's voice was quiet, but firm. He meant it, too. He was done trying to be who other people wanted him to be. It wasn't worth it.

"Yes you are, Tim. This isn't a negotiation. This is you, getting your ass in my truck, so we can straighten out this god-awful mess you've made."

"Billy, I'm not going back." He hung his head, refusing to look at the pain and anger on his brother's face.

Billy reached out to grab Tim's shirt, but the younger brother's reflexes were faster and he stepped back. Billy reached out again, but Tim slapped his hands away. Bad idea. Billy grabbed him and it looked like it could turn into another famous Riggins' brothers fight. Except that Tim felt a small hand on his chest, pushing him backwards. He looked down and Al was standing in between them, pushing them apart. Nearby, Bruno growled a warning.

"Easy now. Easy. I know you boys don't really want to fight." Al's voice was soothing and calm. Tim put his hands up and took a few steps back. Billy released his grip on Tim's shirt, but still looked like he'd was more than ready to go a few rounds.

"Stay out of this, Al," said Billy without turning his angry stare away from his brother.

"Billy." She didn't say anything more, but somehow that single word conveyed a world of meaning. Billy's shoulders slumped and all of the fight drained out of him. Tim was surprised and impressed. It was like the Jedi mind trick or something.

"Tim, I just want what's best for you. I talked to the coach just last night and think he'll be willing to listen to you and work something out. I mean, you're not getting away with this, but you're not off the team or anything."

"I am, Billy. Because I'm done. Done trying to be someone else. I never wanted to go to college in the first place."

"But, your future-"

Tim cut his brother off with a short burst of bitter laughter. "Billy, who are we trying to kid here? I'm never going to work on Wall Street or NASA or be a lawyer or a doctor. My major was Parks and Recreation Management, for god's sakes. It was just a major in playin' football and I'm not NFL material either, so what's the point?"

Billy shook his head. "The point is that college is important."

"It was important to you. But not to me. And I'm done."

"Tim, if you just stop and think about what you're throwing away. What's Lyla going to say?"

Tim shook his head and looked at the ground.

"Shit, Tim, what happened?" Billy's voice had softened and when Tim looked up, he saw that his brother's anger had been replaced by something worse: pity.

Tim shook his head again. "Can I just work here for now and we'll figure out my future another day?"

Billy crossed his arms and stared at Tim.

"Billy," said Al in a soft voice, "You know we're slammed right now. We've got at least three days of work backed up and more customers want to drop their cars off today

"OK. OK. But just until we're caught up. And you better get yourself back into the office and call the coach."

Tim opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp look from Al stopped him. He nodded and headed back there, dreading the call.

In the office, Tim took out his cell phone to get the coach's number. He'd had it turned off since Wednesday and he had many missed calls and angry messages from Billy and the coach. But there was just a single message from Lyla and he couldn't face listening to it. The fact that she'd only called once told him everything he needed to know.

Tim took a deep breath and dialed the number for the coach's office phone. He was hoping to get the voice mail again but wasn't so lucky.

“Caviston.”

“Uh, Coach, this is Tim...Riggins. I was just calling to apologize for missing practice and the game. And to tell you that I'm quitting the team.” He spoke slowly and uncertainly and then braced himself for the Coach's anger. He waited to hear how he'd let the team down (which is what Coach Taylor would say) or how the coach had always known that Tim would never amount to anything (which is what Coach McGregor would say).

“You sure about this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“OK. You have until six o'clock tonight to clean out your locker. Otherwise, your stuff will be thrown out.” The coach hung up the phone.

Somehow, the man's indifference hurt more than if he'd hurled insults or told Tim how disappointed he was. That the coach felt nothing for him made him feel like nothing. Combined with Lyla's only calling him once, he felt as bad as he had in several years.

He went back out to the garage and headed for the beer fridge, an ancient refrigerator that ran exceptionally cold and was perfect for chilling beer. Tim swung the door open and was greeted not by the welcome sight of Lone Star, but neatly stacked cans of Coke and diet Coke. The racks on the door held an assortment of juices and iced tea.

Tim checked the fridge in the break room, but it didn’t have any beer either. He found Billy at the hydraulic lift, replacing the exhaust system on an old pickup truck.

“Billy, where's the beer?”

“Yeah, about that...” Billy looked somewhat sheepish as he continued. “Well, you see, things have sort of changed around here.”

“Changed how?”

“It just don't look real professional to a customer if he comes in and finds his mechanic drinking beer, you know?”

“No, Billy, I don't know. Long as the car gets fixed, what's it matter?” Tim ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He looked up and saw Al, who was still working away on the Civic.

“It matters, Tim. All of it matters.”

“Was this her idea?”

Billy paused, looking for a second like a kid who'd just realized he was caught. “No. No, of course not. I'm still the boss around here. And we have Beer Fridays, anyway.”

“So, we can drink beer on Fridays?”

“Well, at four o'clock on Fridays, after we're closed.”

Tim shook his head and started to walk away. Billy grabbed his arm. “Look, Tim, things are going really good here. We got more business than we can handle and even though I'm pissed at you for the college thing, I do need you here.”

Tim met Billy's eyes and nodded. It wasn't going to be like it was last summer, but it wasn't going to be as bad as college. It would be better than sitting in boring classes, having to wake up for 6am practices, and being around people who didn't understand him. He could do this, even without beer.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Epilogue

 

Walking Away, Part 2

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Walking Away, Part 3

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Walking Away, Part 4

On Monday, Tim got to the garage late. Billy and Bruno were there, but there was no sign of Al.

“Where's Al?” Tim couldn't help but feel a stab of panic.

“At Buddy's.” Billy came out from underneath the truck he was fixing and walked back to the parts storeroom. Tim trailed behind him.

“So, you told her to go ahead with her brilliant idea?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Like there'd be any stopping her.”

“You really think Buddy's going to go for it?”

Billy reached up to grab the part he needed from a high shelf. He looked at Tim seriously, like he was pondering an important question. Then he said “No.” and started laughing.

Tim grinned. The idea of Buddy doing business with the Riggins brothers was laughable.

They heard footsteps running into the garage and Al arrived out of breath and looking very much out of place in a dark blue business suit. Her skirt stopped just above her knees and Tim's eyes were automatically drawn to her legs.

“Hey, Buddy's coming over here to check the place out, then, if he likes what he sees, he's going to sign the contract. Billy, did you get a chance to read the contract? I left it on your desk.”

Billy looked at her like she'd asked him if he'd gotten a chance to zip up to the moon to pick up some cheese.

“Get back in your office and read it. Tim, tuck your shirt in and go look busy.”

“Yes, boss.” Tim resisted the urge to slap her playfully. That was the only thing that had changed between them. He tried not to touch her because it was just too difficult to stop.

Al nodded to them both and then walked back to the front desk to wait for Buddy, who arrived a few minutes later.

“Al, I don't think I've ever seen a lady drive so fast. I was right behind you coming out of the lot and then...poof, you were gone.” Buddy was his usual sweaty, cheerful self. Bruno stood up and had a lazy stretch before heading over to check out their guest.

Buddy took a step back and eyed the dog suspiciously.

“It's okay, Buddy, this is Bruno.” She whistled the dog away from Buddy, who was clearly uncomfortable with dogs. “Come on, I'll give you a tour.”

She started with the computer, explaining how they booked appointments and the software they used to estimate times and schedule repairs.

“That's some high tech stuff there. Where'd you get it?”

Al smiled. “I came up with the idea and the parameters and then got one of my brothers to make it for us.”

“That's good. I wish we had something like that. I'm always at the mercy of my mechanics telling me how long they think something's going to take.”

“Well, I might be amenable to discussing licensing it to you someday. Not quite today though.”

Tim was loitering near the front desk, watching the way the Buddy kept leaning forward, finding any excuse to touch her. Tim wasn't jealous, exactly, since he could also see Al trying to keep her distance while still being polite.

“Hey, since I'm here, think we can reschedule the maintenance on Lyla's car?”

“Sure, Buddy, but I'm telling you, they really do have mechanics in Nashville.”

Buddy laughed. “Yeah, but I know y'all will take good car of my baby's car. I don't know anybody in Nashville and I don't trust 'em.”

“All right, then. When's good for you?”

“She'll be coming home for Christmas break, so, say the Monday before Christmas?”

Al clicked the mouse a few times and typed for a bit. The she got some contact details from Buddy and entered them into the computer as well.

“Fine, you're all set. Bring the car in that morning. Probably be able to get it done while she waits, but we'll let you know on the day.”

“I just hope she comes home.” Buddy let out a huge, wistful sigh and looked down. “She was supposed to come home for Thanksgiving, you know, but that boyfriend of hers invited her to Spain for a week.”

“Wow, Buddy, that must be tough for you,” said Al, but her eyes were on Tim.

Buddy looked up and followed Al's gaze. “Tim Riggins, I heard you were back in Dillon. Sorry to hear that San Antonio State thing didn't work out for you, but not everyone's cut out for college.”

“Buddy, we are so just fortunate that Tim was able to come back and help us out here. Our business has been growing like crazy and you know yourself how hard it is to find good mechanics.” Al smiled sweetly.

Buddy backpedaled, but he wasn't done twisting the knife as he went on to talk about how things always do work out for the best and to tie that back to Lyla, Vanderbilt, and Rafe.

“Buddy, how about I give you the rest of the tour?” Al asked when she saw a break in Buddy's monologue.

“Oh, sure, of course.”

Al turned and motioned for Buddy to follow. Then she stopped and turned to Tim. “Timmy, I was in such a rush this morning, I forgot my regular work clothes. I left them in the kitchen, I think. Can you get them for me, please?”

Tim grinned at her. “Sure thing, baby.”

“Thanks, sweets, you're the best.” Al closed the space between them in three long steps, put her hands on his chest, and stood on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss on the lips. She kissed his cheek and then whispered in his ear, her warm breath giving him chills. “I didn't forget. But just get out of here, take Bruno for a drive. You don't need to put up with this.”

She stepped back and turned to Buddy, who was looking between them with a puzzlement that slowly slid into understanding. Al walked on, explaining how things worked in the garage.

Tim stayed away for an hour, figuring that was more than enough time for Buddy to get his grand tour, sign the damn contract and get the hell out of there. He was impressed by how Al handled the situation. In one way, he knew it didn't change anything between them, that she was putting on a little show for Buddy's benefit. But in another way, it just confirmed everything he already knew: his patience would pay off in the end.

 

*** **** **** *** **** **** *** **** **** *** **** **** ***

The next few weeks flew by. Buddy signed the contract and Al arranged for radio ads to play on several West Texas stations, advertising the new loaner car benefit. Tim laughed every time he heard Billy's voice coming out of his truck's speakers. The idea was as good as Al had promised and they were soon swamped with work. They were working extra long days, with Tim and Al even coming in on weekends to catch up.

Tim didn't mind though. It felt good be part of something so successful. It also felt good to have the distraction of work. To be around Al and be able to focus on something other than how much he liked her. And how much he worried about her sometimes.

The Friday before Thanksgiving, they managed to finish at six for the night. Al went home and Tim and Billy went to the Panthers' play-off game, a home semi-final against Westerby. Tim didn't know if it was a law or just coincidence, but it always seemed to pour during semi-final games.

It looked like the rain would hold off this time, but the heavens opened up during the fourth quarter. The score was tied and Westerby had the ball, threatening on the Panthers' 25 yard line. Then the cold wind kicked in and chilled him to the bone. His focus on the game slipped as he thought of Al, no doubt drinking on the back deck at home.

“Billy, I gotta go,” he shouted in his brother's ear to be heard over the noisy crowd and howling wind.

Billy grabbed his arm. “You can't go. The game's just gettin' interesting.”

“I have to.” He looked at his brother, his eyes serious enough to cut off further discussion.

“OK, then. Go. Be careful though.”

Tim nodded and took off, pushing through their row and then hustling down the steps. He ran out to his truck and had it started and moving before he even had his seat belt on. He took a deep breath to steady himself, put on his seat belt and set off through the deserted streets.

When he got to their house, he burst through the front door, calling for Al. He could hear Bruno barking and saw the sliding glass door was open. He found Al outside, the barking dog pacing circles around her.

“Al, c'mon. Get in the house.”

She either didn't hear him or ignored him.

He raised his voice. “Al, don't be an idiot. Even the damn dog knows you should be inside in this weather.”

A flash of lightening lit up the yard and Tim could see her face, pale and grimly determined. He sighed, wondering if having to deal with her self-destructive tendencies was some sort of penance or karmic payback for what he'd put Billy through the year of Six's accident.

He pulled off the wet blanket, relieved to see she was at least wearing her work clothes and a jacket instead of her usual shorts and t-shirt. He scooped her up, threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the house. She didn't fight him or even say anything, which somehow scared him even more.

He put her down gently in a kitchen chair and pulled off her shoes and jacket. He took off his own jacket and sighed.

“Al, I need you to co-operate with me.”

She didn't say anything and wouldn't look at him.

“Please.” Everything he'd ever felt about her was wrapped up in that single word.

Her head snapped up and she met his eyes. She looked sad and pathetic, her curls plastered to her face.

“I need you to come upstairs with me. We need to get you changed, okay?”

She nodded and he took her hand. Its coldness shocked him. He put an arm around her and could feel that dry clothes weren't going to be enough to warm her.

They went upstairs and he led her to her room. It was the first time he'd ever seen the inside of it but he was sure his bathroom would not be up to her exacting standards.

Her room was smaller than his, with the weird angles of the roof making the space feel even more cramped. A twin bed, long dresser and a rocking chair were the only furniture.

Her bathroom, though, was much bigger and nicer than his. He could tell that it was a recent addition, that probably she was the one who had had it put in. A large jacuzzi tub took up one end of the room, the floor built up next to it. The wide stairs up to the floor area reminded Tim of the steps into the shallow end of a pool.

A marble shower with glass doors took up the other end of the room. The toilet was next to a sink that looked like a giant marble bowl. The only mirror in the place was over the sink, a small oval placed high on the wall.

Tim didn't know where the door next to the shower went, so he opened it to reveal a heated linen closet. Its shelves were stacked with fluffy towels and bed sheets. Tim grabbed a few towels and dropped them on the counter next to the sink.

He ran the water in the tub and dumped in some of the bubble bath that was sitting there. He adjusted the water carefully, not wanting it to be too hot. When the bubbles were close to the top of the tub, he shut off the water.

Al came in, Bruno trailing behind her. The dog was pacing and nervous, so Tim told him to lie down.

“I'm going to leave you now, but you need to get out of those clothes and have a bath.”

“Don't.”

“What?”

“Don't leave.” She looked up at him with puffy, red eyes and his heart broke like a pane of glass.

“All right, look, I'll find some clothes for you to wear after your bath. You let me know when it's safe to come in.”

“Safe?”

“Work with me here. I'm just a guy, you know.”

She gave him a small smile and nodded. He left, half-closing the door behind him.

He went over to the dresser and guessed that he should skip the first drawer. As organized as Al was, Tim would bet his next paycheck that her first drawer was the underwear drawer and he just didn't think he could deal with that right now. It seemed right that pajamas would be in the bottom drawer.

He pulled open the bottom drawer and smiled to see the tank tops and shorts, flannel pants and sweatshirts that she used as pajamas. He picked a pair of flannel pants that felt super soft, a blue tank top, and a well-worn black sweatshirt for the Eveleth Golden Bears football team.

“It's safe,” called Al.

Tim carried the clothes in with him and dropped them next to the towels. He walked up the stairs and sat down on the top step, turning to lean his back against the wall. He stretched out one leg and kept the other bent so he could rest his arm against it. Al looked tiny in the huge tub, just her head sticking out from a sea of bubbles. He sighed.

“Some day, you're going to tell me what this is all about.”

She nodded sadly. “Some day. But not today.”

“No, not today,” he agreed.

The quiet minutes stretched between them. Tim looked down at his ring, twisting it around on his finger while he twisted thoughts about Al around in his head. He understood wanting to passively destroy yourself. He knew where these bad decisions came from. He got her, he really did. He just didn't know how to explain that to her.

So, once again, it all came back to waiting. Which he knew he could do. As long as it took.

“Timmy?” Her voice was so quiet, he nearly missed it.

“Yeah.” He looked up.

She gave him a half-smile. “Thank you.”

“No worries.” He smiled back. “No worries at all.”

 

*** **** **** *** **** **** *** **** **** *** **** **** ***

The Monday before Thanksgiving, Billy was in his office with Tim, going over the parts they needed to order for the week. Al stuck her head in the door.

“Billy, call for you, line two.”

“Thanks, Al. You nearly done with that clutch?”

“Almost. And you know what will help me?”

“What?”

“If you stop asking me about the damn thing.” She stuck her tongue out at Billy, winked at Tim, and then walked out.

“That girl. I can't decide if she's the best or worst thing ever to happen to this place.” Billy shook his head.

“The best.” Tim smiled. “Definitely the best.”

Billy picked up the phone and jabbed the button for line two.

“Billy Riggins.” He tried to use his best phone voice, but it wasn't anywhere near as good as Al's.

“Oh shit. Excuse my language, but Celia, are you kidding me?”

Tim raised an eyebrow, but Billy waved him off.

“No....yeah....I understand, but we're leaving Wednesday. No, of course. Yeah. Well, thanks for telling me.”

Billy dropped the phone down into the cradle and rubbed his hand over his face.

“What's wrong?” asked Tim.

“What's wrong is that was our babysitter. Her kid just got the chicken pox, so she can't watch Amber and TJ. Which means I gotta either find somebody else or call my wife and tell her 'Sorry, honey, know how you were lookin' forward to your first uninterrupted night's sleep in over a year, well it ain't going to happen.'”

“Shit, Billy. That sucks.”

Billy leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Tim figured he was flipping through his mental list of people he knew that he'd trust with his kids. It was apparently a very short list. Billy's eyes snapped open and zeroed in on his brother.

“What?” Tim asked.

“Uncle Timmy,” said Billy.

“Oh no, Billy. No way. That's an awful idea.”

“Tim, it'll be fine. Just find some girl to help you out. I'm sure you'll have no trouble with that. Dillon's gotta be full of girls who would love to help you babysit in an empty house for four days.”

“No way, Billy.”

“Please, Tim. I am desperate. I am so desperate. I can't even tell you. I love those kids, you know I do, but Mindy and I really need this. You have no idea.”

Tim sighed and nodded slowly. “OK, Billy. But I want a few days off afterwards to recover.”

“Deal.”

Tim stood up and walked out into the garage. He found Al closing the hood of the Mazda Miata.

“Clutch done?”

“Yep.” She tossed him the keys. “Want to take it for the test drive?”

“Sure. Come with me?”

“We really shouldn't both be gone. There's so much to do around here.”

“Come on, ten minutes won't make a difference.”

“But Billy-”

“Billy, me and Al are going to test out the clutch in the Miata,” shouted Tim.

“Fine!” hollered back Billy. Tim gave Al a huge “told you so” grin as he opened the passenger's side door for her.

Tim backed carefully out of the garage and then headed out to a deserted road on the edge of town. He sped up and slowed down, moving smoothly through the gears and listening to the engine. The clutch felt good and the engine was humming along nicely. When he turned the car around, he smiled at Al.

“You do good work.”

She smiled back. When they returned to the garage, he parked the car outside and handed her the keys.

“Hey Al, can ask you for a favor?”

“Of course you can.”

“You know how Billy and Mindy are going away this week?”

She nodded.

“Well, their babysitter's kid has the chicken pox and I agreed to help Billy out, but I really need a wingman on this one. TJ's wobbly neck scares the shit out of me. Please, I need your help.”

Al's eyes went wide and a strange expression settled on her face.

“You know I'll help you, but you have to make sure it's fine with both Billy and Mindy.”

Tim waved his hand dismissively. “Sure, they'll be fine with it.”

“No, Tim. You have to ask them. Specifically.” Her voice was clear and clipped.

Tim's brow wrinkled in confusion. “I don't understand what the big deal is. Billy said to find a girl to help me. You're a girl. You're related to Mindy and work with Billy, so it's not like you're some stranger off the street.”

“Tim, just ask him.”

Tim put his hands up. “OK. OK. C'mon, I'll ask him. You can watch so you know I did it.”

Tim walked into Billy's office and waited for Al to catch up with him.

“Hey Billy, is it okay if Al helps me with the babysitting?”

A look of surprise crossed Billy's face and he tried to smother it and look reassuring. “Yeah, sure. Of course.”

Al cleared her throat and looked at Tim.

“What about Mindy? Will you please ask her if it's okay?” asked Tim, still not sure what the big deal was.

“C'mere, Al, have a seat. Help me make one of those speaker phone calls and we can ask her together.”

Al walked over with the bearing of one headed for the firing squad.

“Timmy, I need you to get started on Emmet's truck, please?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me know what Mindy says.”

He walked out and then paused, straining to hear Billy and Al's hushed conversation.

“I think this will be really good for you Al, and I'm sure Mins'll be fine with it, but we'll call her anyway, just to make you comfortable.”

Tim shook his head and went into the garage. He decided he didn't care what the deal was, as long as he had Al to help him with his niece and nephew.

 

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Epilogue

Walking Away, Part 6

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Walking Away, Epilogue

Christmas Eve, Two Years Later

Tim woke up early on Christmas Eve. Well, 9 am was early for him on a day off. He showered and put on a clean pair of jeans, a Panthers t-shirt and the blue plaid flannel shirt that was Al's favorite. He went downstairs and found her sitting at the table with the newspaper and a cup of coffee.

“You're up early,” she said, a bit surprised.

“And you're observant.”

He got a mug from the cupboard and walked over to the table, pausing in front of Al to put his free hand on her shoulder. He leaned down, kissed the top of her head and said quietly, “How are you today?”

She sighed and looked up with a small, grateful smile. “Not too bad, sad, but it's manageable.”

He nodded as he sat down and poured a cup of coffee. Al slid the sports section over to him and they read the paper in silence for a while.

“So, any plans for today?” he finally asked.

Al looked up at him and he thought he caught her impish grin. “Not so much. Unless you have something planned?”

He stood up and stretched. “I wouldn't call it a plan, exactly, but I was just thinking recently that we've known each other for more than two years and I've never once seen you play football.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. And I'm thinking that I need to verify these claims of yours. Can you really kick a field goal from 40 yards?”

“I could in high school, it's been awhile.”

“Now see, that right there sounds like you're chicken.”

“You are so wrong. Let's go then.” She whistled for Bruno and went to get her jacket and backpack.

He grinned at her indignation. It was so much fun to wind her up.

When they got outside, he opened the garage door and walked over to the workbench, where he'd left a couple of footballs.

“Nerf or regulation?”he asked, holding up both.

“Like you have to ask,” she scoffed.

He dropped the Nerf football and grabbed the little plastic holder for kicking.

“So, we need to see if you can kick footballs and if you can really tackle.”

“I can tackle. I have seven brothers, remember?”

“I know, but still, I be hundred bucks that you won't be able to tackle me.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “You still owe me a hundred bucks from the last time we bet.”

“When was this?”

She opened her backpack and unzipped an inside pocket, then came out with a small leather holder. She opened a zipper on the holder, pulled out a tattered grocery receipt and handed it to Tim.

“Oh, right. From when the kids wrecked all my shirts and I had to raid Billy's closet. I remember now.”

“What else do you have in this secret treasure chest?” He grinned and grabbed the holder from her.

“Tim, give it back.” She tried to grab it from him, but his reflexes were too fast. He held it high above his head and laughed as she tried in vain to jump up and reach it.

“Collette, you make it too damn easy, you know? How tall are you again?”

“Four feet, ten and a half inches.” She was still trying to get at the leather holder.

“Oh, that last half-inch makes all the difference, doesn't it?”

She kicked him lightly in the shin and then stepped back and crossed her arms. He pulled himself up onto the workbench and brought the holder down, giving her a chance to take it if she really didn't want him to see what was in it. He looked at her for a second, making sure he had her permission. She nodded and looked down.

The small, rectangular case unzipped and opened up like a book. He looked inside. The hospital bracelet from when Avery was born. A picture of Avery from when she was a bit older, the girl sitting next to a stuffed monkey that was nearly as big as she was. Then there was a picture of Tim at the garage. He had no memory of it being taken, but he was leaning against a truck, arms folded and a big, warm smile on his face, like the person taking the picture had just made him laugh. He was guessing that person had been Al.

He zipped up the case and gave it back to her as he slipped off the workbench.

“Hey,” he said softly so she looked up at him, giving the small bashful smile she always did after she let him a little further into her life.

He walked over and put an arm around her shoulder. “C'mon, let's go play.”

He guided her over to his truck and she looked puzzled.

“But the park's just at the end of the street.”

“Yeah, but it doesn't have goalposts. We'll go where I played pee-wee back in the day.”

She was about to get into the truck, but then she told him she'd forgotten something and raced back into the house. While she was gone, he herded Bruno into the truck and pulled out his phone.

“Streeter? Yeah, give us maybe 20 minutes.... You don't want to get there too early. It'll look suspicious. Thanks.”

He tucked the phone back in his pocket and waited for Al to return.

“What you forget?” he asked when she returned.

“Huh?”

“You went in because you forgot something.”

“Oh, right, I forgot if I turned off the oven, so I went in to check.”

He raised an eyebrow and regarded her suspiciously, but then decided to let it slide. He put the truck in reverse and headed over to the park near Jason's house.

It was a beautiful day for December and it had been a surprisingly dry month. The field was dusty, reminding Tim of late summer practices. They walked across the field, tossing the ball between them to warm up, Bruno trotting happily beside them.

“Want to start with kick-offs? You used to set up at the 40?”

“Yeah.”

He set the ball up for her on the 40-yard line and then trotted out 20 yards. He grinned when she waved him back.

“Let's see what you got first, Mighty Mouse.”

He could hear her cursing under her breath as she took slow, measured paces back from the ball and then ran up and kicked it in one graceful motion, sending it up into a beautiful arc. He moved his head as he watched it sail over, dropping down around the 15 yard line.

“OK, so I may have underestimated you.” He shouted over his shoulder as he jogged back to collect the ball. He threw it back to her and moved to around the 20. He watched her set the ball up and then kick it, again a perfect kick, only this time he was ready.

He lined up under the ball and caught it. By force of habit, he cut across the field to get near the sideline, then ran hard up the field. He was puzzled to see that Al was running up the middle of the field and hadn't cut across to him yet.

He passed the 30, then the 25, and was about to pass the 20 yard line when Al slammed into his side, just under his ribs. Even though he had the obvious size advantage, she'd played it just right so that she was able to use his momentum against him to knock him off kilter and drive him down.

He hit the ground hard. The ball popped out of his hands and rolled a few yards up the field. Al wasted no time as she jumped up, grabbed the ball, and started to run in the other direction.

So she wants to play like that, he thought to himself as he popped up and took off after her. She was fast, but he was faster and managed to catch her near the 50 yard line. He timed his tackle perfectly, catching her just below the knees so he didn't crush or hurt her when they toppled to the ground.

Even so, he found himself holding his breath until he heard her laughter. She was tougher than he thought – he always had to remind himself of that fact. Then he heard clapping from the sidelines.

“Nice, Timmy, I see your way of wooing a woman hasn't changed since we were seven.”

“Jay Six.” Tim grinned.

He stood up and then pulled Al up off the ground. He walked over to the sideline to greet his friend.

He shook Jason's hand and then crouched down to greet Noah, who was wearing one of his father's old Panther's jerseys, the shirt nearly hanging down to his knees.

“Little Six,” he said, shaking the boy's hand.

“Good to see you again, Jason,” said Al.

“Noah,” Jason said, “I want you to meet Uncle Timmy's girlfriend, Miss Al.”

“Oh no, just call me Al.” She held out her hand to Noah.

“Al, you are going to ruin the good Southern manners I am trying to instill in my son. It's hard enough, you know, no one's got decent manners in New Jersey.”

“Noah, want to play with me for a minute, give your dad a chance to talk to Uncle Timmy?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically and ran off, shouting at her to throw the ball to him. She tossed it to him and then ran over to him and took the ball. She sent him long, in the direction of the parking lot. Then she sent a spiral pass flying high over his head.

“She had a little too much on that one. Who's she think she's throwing to?” asked Jason.

“No idea,” said Tim distractedly.

Tim watched as Al called Noah over to her and said something to him that resulted in him nodding a lot and crossing his heart once. Then he ran back to them while Al jogged toward the parking lot where the ball had landed.

Tim's attention focused back on Noah when the boy arrived back to them.

“What was all that about?” he asked.

“Nothing. And I can't tell you anyway. Sorry, Uncle Timmy, but I promised,” Noah said with a serious expression on his face that made Tim grin.

“It's a secret, huh? Well, we've got secrets of our own here, so don't you say anything to Al, got it?”

Noah nodded and crossed his heart again. Tim turned to Jason.

“You got it?”

“Yeah, in the bag back there, inside pocket.”

Tim crouched behind the wheelchair and pulled out the velvet-lined box that was small enough to hide in his fist like a magician. He flipped the box open and smiled as he looked at the round-cut sapphire in a platinum setting. Perfect. He flipped the lid closed and stood up, slipping the box into his jacket pocket.

“Who's that with Al?” asked Noah.

“That would be Miss Tyra, and you will call her Miss Tyra no matter what she says, got it?” said Jason.

“Got it,” said Noah, bumping fists with his father.

When they got closer, Tim could see that Tyra was carrying the football. Al had her jacket off and was carrying it in her hands, holding one arm in a funny way.

Tyra greeted Jason and Noah, leaving Tim and Al to talk.

“You hurt your arm or something?” he asked, concerned that he might have hurt her while they were playing.

She shook her head and gave him her biggest impish grin. “Go on and have a seat on the bleachers there for a second.”

He did as she asked and didn't realize how set up he'd been until she told him to close his eyes. He felt her place something on his lap. He waited to open his eyes until she told him so, but he couldn't stop the happy, silly grin that broke out before he even opened his eyes.

The puppy was a dark grey wriggling mass with small floppy ears and a funny, squarish snout. It had a white spot on its chest and a white-tipped tail, which was currently wagging madly. Bruno came over to investigate, his head nearly bigger than the puppy's whole body.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asked Al.

“Your very own Irish wolfhound. And he also comes with a crate, a leash, and several rounds of obedience classes.”

“I love him.”

“I'm sure he's going to love you too.”

“How did you manage to do this? I had no idea. Not a hint of it.”

Al grinned. “Remember that two-day class on transmissions that Billy sent me to in Austin last month?”

Tim nodded.

“There was no class. I went to Austin to meet with a breeder and pick out your puppy. And beg and plead with Tyra to help me with the pick up and delivery, which you can see she very graciously did.”

“Yeah, about that, I'm going to be sending you an itemized bill for two pairs of shoes and one throw rug,” said Tyra.

“What are you going to name him, Uncle Timmy?” asked Noah.

“I dunno, Noah. What would you name him?”

The boy shrugged. “Grey?”

A line from an old Bugs Bunny cartoon popped into his head. “I'll love him and I'll hug him and I'll name him George.”

“George is a good name,” said Al.

“I agree,” said Tyra.

“George,” called Jason, laughing when the puppy looked up.

“George it is then,” said Tim as he stood up. He put the puppy in Noah's lap.

“OK then, your turn. C'mere.” He reached out a hand and pulled Al over, motioning for her to sit down. She did as he asked and closed her eyes without being told.

Tim reached into his pocket and pulled out the box. He took a deep breath, glancing at Six for reassurance. His friend smiled and nodded. Tim knelt down and took Al's hand. He flipped the box open with his thumb.

“Open your eyes.”

He watched her eyes snap open and move from his face, to the ring, and back. Eyes widening first with surprise, then filling with tears.

“I've never met anyone who understands me as well as you do. I told you a long time ago that we make a great team. I still think that and now, I want to make it permanent. Al, will you marry me, please?”

Al nodded.

Tim sat down next to her. He took the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger, surprised that both of their hands were slightly shaking. He kissed her until Noah protested that it was yucky, which made Al giggle.

“Congratulations, guys,” said Jason. Al scrambled off the bleachers to hug Tyra and Jason.

Tim went over to hug Tyra, who looked really, genuinely happy for him.

“Mindy will tell you herself when she hears, but -”

“I know, Tyra, I know,” interrupted Tim in a tired voice. “She'll kick my ass into the middle of next week if I mess this up and hurt Al.”

Tyra smiled and shook her head. “No, well, I mean yes, that's true. But she isn't in the habit of repeating herself. That's not what I was going to say.”

“Then what is it?” Tim asked with a raised eyebrow.

“This is exactly what she hoped for when she told Al to stay.”

“That Al would find some guy?”

“No just a guy. You, Tim, you. Mindy always knew you two were made for each other.”

Tim smiled and gave Tyra another hug, whispering “Thank you” to her softly.

Al came over and put her arm around Tim's waist.

“So now it's my turn to ask. How'd you do this?”

“Well, like you, I had a trip with a plausible cover story and help from a friend.”

“Your visit to Jason this fall?”

“Yep, very good shopping in New York City. But in the end, I decided nothing was quite right and had that ring specially made, which took forever. Six kindly volunteered for pickup and delivery duty so I didn't have to worry about it getting lost when it was shipped.”

“You're good. This was a total surprise.”

“There's only one thing,” said Tim, looking down at her with a grin.

“What's that?”

“I need to know the real name of the woman I'm marrying.”

She shook her head.

“Tim, I don't even know her real name. She was Al before I was born. She's just always been Al,” said Tyra.

“You really don't know it yet? Billy hasn't told you?”

“Nope. And I've asked your brothers whenever they called and I answered the phone, but no one would give me even the slightest hint. You know, for such a little person, you inspire real fear in people.”

Al smiled. “That's how it should be.”

“Please tell me?” asked Tim.

Al sighed and looked up at him. She took his hand and dragged him halfway across the field, far enough from their friends that she wouldn't be overheard.

“C'mere, I'm only going to whisper this in your ear and I'm only going to say it once, so you better listen. And don't you dare repeat it out loud, no matter how funny it seems to you.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Tim leaned way down and waited while Al brushed his hair back and cupped her hands around his ear like a little kid telling a secret.

He held his breath and waited. Her voice was almost lower than whisper-quiet.

“Angel Rose.”

She was right, he couldn't help it. The laughter exploded out of him, uncontrollable and loud. She thumped him hard in the arm, her little fist packing quite a punch.

That was a good name for a porcelain doll of a girl. Not the car-fixing, football-playing, hand-crushing, ass-kicking woman that he'd fallen in love with. The toughest woman he knew.

“It's a beautiful name,” he told her. “For someone else. You're definitely Al.”

“That's what I've been telling you.” She smiled.

He straightened up and noticed a familiar dark-haired figure approach Six and lean down to kiss his cheek. Al and Tim walked back to the bleachers.

“Uncle Timmy, this is Miss Lyla,” announced Noah proudly. He was sitting on the bleachers next to Tyra, both of them trying to keep the puppy from falling off the narrow bench, while Bruno looked on in quiet confusion.

Tim grinned. “Yeah, we've met. Good manners though, buddy.”

“Tim, Al.” Lyla nodded at them stiffly.

“Haven't seen your car in the garage in ages. Buddy find a mechanic up in Nashville that he trusts?” asked Al.

Lyla blushed. “Not exactly, but I told him my car, my problem, you know?”

“Garrity, how's Vanderbilt treating you?” Tim could see her trying to fight off her awkwardness and act naturally.

“Good, I graduate in the spring.”

“Lyla's trying to decide between med school and law school,” said Jason with a hint of pride in his voice.

Lyla ducked her head and started to mumble. “Well, I still need to get in somewhere. That might make my decision for me.”

“You're seriously considering both? Like you've taken the MCAT and the LSAT both?” asked Al.

Lyla nodded.

“Let me ask you a question – if you saw someone get hit by a car in the parking lot over there, what would you do?”

“Call 911, go over and see what the situation was, give first aid if possible.”

“And while you were giving first aid, what would you be thinking.”

Lyla closed her eyes and paused, picturing the situation and considering her possible reaction and thoughts.

“I'd follow the procedures I learned in first aid class and hope to God I didn't mess it up.”

“Med school, definitely,” said Al with a grin.

“Why?” asked Lyla.

“Because that's your instinct – to help someone else without thinking. If you were going to worry about liability or blame or responsibility, then you'd be better off in law school.”

As the girls talked, Tim looked around at his friends and thought about everything they'd been through and how they'd come out on the other side. He had always loved his friends and was grateful that they still cared about him, despite how much he'd screwed up along the way.

And then there was Al, who was leaning against him slightly. He felt like she was the one thing in his life that he'd gotten exactly right.

“Miss Lyla,” said Noah, bringing Tim's puppy over to him. “This is George, Uncle Timmy's new puppy. Al just gived it to him and then he gived her a ring and now they're going to get married. Well, maybe not like right this second, but some day soon.”

“Gave, Noah, not gived.” Jason corrected his son softly while giving Tim an apologetic smile.

Lyla looked up at Tim, her eyes wide with surprise.

“For real?” she asked.

“For real,” he said.

She looked flustered but recovered well, her voice warm and sincere as she wished them both congratulations and admired Al's ring.

“You know, y'all if I'd realized this was going to be a school reunion, I woulda invited Landry along,”said Tyra.

“Yeah and he'd invite Saracen.” Jason smiled.

“Who would bring Julie,” said Lyla.

Tim shrugged and pulled out his phone, passing it to Tyra. “Why not? We got all day.”

/fin
 

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Epilogue