Chapter 13
Saturday night I watched Eli's taillights pull out of the driveway in the spare car.
He'd kissed my forehead at the door, keys already in his hand. The SUV stayed where it had been all weekend, right outside the open foyer door that had held so much tension that morning. No duffel bag by the stairs now. Just our hardwood floor, clear.
"You good if I head in?" he asked. "Shift starts at ten."
I nodded. "Text me when you get there."
He did. At 9:47 my phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
Made it. Lot's full tonight. Extra pay still good. Love you.
I stared at that little extra pay still good and felt something settle in my chest I hadn't expected. It wasn't triumph. It was relief that the car had gone where it was actually needed.
I texted back, Love you too. Drive safe.
I slept better than I had Friday night, knowing the car was parked at the county hospital lot and not three towns over with Jason.
Sunday morning Eli was home by seven, boots by the door, his henley smelling faintly of coffee and disinfectant. He didn't look tired, just quiet in that steady way he got after a long shift.
"You up for church with my mom?" he asked while he poured water at the sink. "She called. Her ride fell through again and she asked if we could take her. I told her we'd use the spare so you wouldn't have to shuffle seats."
That was the thing he'd been trying to tell me in the foyer. Not just principle. Logistics. His mom, Evelyn, went to the eight-thirty service in Millerton and did her grocery run right after. Without the second car, one of us was always stuck waiting or saying no.
"Yeah," I said. "Let me get dressed."
We took the county road out past the corn that had just been cut, the spare car riding smooth, Eli driving with one hand on the wheel, his silver watch catching light. I rode shotgun. It felt normal in a way I hadn't realized I'd missed. No negotiating, no checking my phone to see if Jason needed to extend the rental.
The church parking lot was half gravel, half cracked asphalt, the white clapboard chapel with the same crooked sign it had had for years. Evelyn waited by the side door in her navy dress, waving us down.
She slid into the back seat and immediately reached forward to squeeze my shoulder, then Eli's.
"Thank you both," she said. "I know it's early and you just worked, honey."
Eli met my eyes in the rearview as he pulled out. "We wanted to," he said. "Car was free."
After service we drove her to Miller's Grocery. I pushed the cart while Eli walked beside his mom, carrying her canvas bags. In the cereal aisle she leaned toward me and said, quiet enough that only I heard, "He told me about the extra shift. That pay will help with your dad's meds, right? I'm glad you two kept the car close."
I didn't know she knew about my dad's prescription costs. Eli must have told her. My throat got tight.
"It did help," I said. "He got the differential for Saturday night."
She patted my arm. "Good. That's what family cars are for."
In the parking lot, while Eli loaded groceries into the trunk of the spare car, I took out my phone. The rental. I hadn't texted Jason since we'd offered to help pay half instead of handing over the keys. I typed with Eli right there, the trunk still open.
hope rental worked - Mara
I hit send and then, without thinking about it, tilted the screen toward Eli. Not hiding it in my lap or waiting until he went inside. Just showing him.
He glanced down, closed the trunk, and nodded. "Good," he said. His hand found mine for a second, warm and dry. "Thanks for letting me see."
Jason replied twenty minutes later while we were driving Evelyn home, the phone buzzing in my cupholder where Eli could see it light up.
Yeah all good. Appreciate you guys helping with it. Get home safe.
No ask for more time. No guilt. Just that.
I read it out loud. Eli didn't tense. He just said, "Good he found something," and kept driving down the county road with the windows cracked, air smelling like cut hay and exhaust.
May you like
When we dropped Evelyn off, she hugged us both at her front steps. "Same time next week?" she asked, and Eli said, "We'll be here," and I realized that was a promise we could actually keep now. Because the car would be here.
On the way back to the house, Eli reached over and turned his palm up on the console. I laced my fingers through his, and we didn't talk much. We didn't need to. The spare car hummed underneath us, doing exactly what we'd bought it to do.
