“Had to do this myself about a week ago. Mashed a piece of soap into the radiator of yonder truck. It’s got the rust, getting’ on old, like me. Reckon I’ll have to do something to fix it proper and all, sooner or later.”
Rae Lynn barely paid attention to the rest of his prattling after he’d more or less told her what she needed to do. His hawkish observation made her nervous, and her sweaty fingers turned the soap slick. She didn’t quite get it in, and it fell onto the ground. She retrieved it, brushed the grass off, and mashed it back into the hole, and that’s when he noticed her finger.
“You must’ve lopped that off chopping wood or something like’at. Wouldn’t be real smart, but things happen.”
She glanced over her shoulder and glared at him. The soap stayed, thank the Lord. He unscrewed the radiator cap and tipped the bucket to refill it. He didn’t look at her as he kept on talking.
“I tell you what. They’s a lot to be said about depending on one’s own self. As head of the household, we supposed to know everything. I ain’t ever figgered out how some don’t know doodly squat. Reckon it was their raising.”
He side-eyed her and Rae Lynn resigned herself to having to listen. She was indebted to him, after all. He went on, freely speaking his mind.
“Seems to me somebody ought not take off knowing they’s going so far without being prepared. Seems to me somebody would have them some extra water on hand, just in case. Hell, even in this day and age, having some soap ain’t nothing, no matter how bad off things is. Nope. I mean, one’s free, and the other, it don’t cost much. Any growed man knows that. Least I reckon you’s a growed man. And you, coming all this a way without none of them things. Least you did bring you some gas, right there in the back. Least you done that.”
Her face flushed with a mixture of anger and humiliation. She fingered the money she had in her pocket. That twelve remaining dollars was a lifeline in case things didn’t work out in Valdosta. Well, she’d at least give him a dollar for his trouble, and maybe two cents more. He finished in silence and after he’d put the cap on, and before he could say another word, she thrust the bill out. He stared at it, at her, and reached out to take it.
She said, “For your few minutes of trouble and the high-and-mighty sermon.”
She smacked her hands together like she was ridding them of dirt, went to the driver’s side, and got in. Because the engine was still warm, she could eliminate the choke steps for getting it started. As she pulled away, she looked back at him and saw he at least had the decency to give her a contrite little wave. Rae Lynn scolded herself: If you aim to pull this off, you got to do better. She faced forward, still fuming a bit over the things he’d said, while feeling aggravated with herself. She drove on, counting it as a much-needed lesson on remembering how she was supposed to act.
She’d estimated the entire trip to take fourteen hours, but with the radiator problem, and the fact she slowed down on account she was afraid she’d have trouble again, she ended up having to spend the night under a grove of old oaks. She could see the dim lights from a small farmhouse across a cotton field, the glow from the windows offering her a bit of comfort, knowing she wasn’t completely alone. She ate some of the food she brought, a leftover biscuit filled with fatback, a few slices of her bread and butter pickles she’d put up the year before, and she drank water from ajar. She missed Warren terribly. The weight of the pistol in one of the pockets of the overalls was a constant reminder. She shifted on the truck seat, felt it against her hip bone, and considered maybe she ought to toss it into the ditch, but it was necessary, given her circumstances. Because she wasn’t concentrating on driving, she had time to think, maybe too much.
Again, her eyes filled, and she spoke out loud. “Got to quit your squalling, Rae Lynn. Can’t be bawling like a baby as Ray Cobb.”
She tried to sleep, but that was nigh on impossible. Scuffling noises had her wondering what moved about she couldn’t see. Warren had said the nighttime made noises louder, and she hoped he was right. Probably a possum, but sounded like a bear. She eventually did find sleep, but, at dawn when she sat up and gazed about, she felt bleary-eyed and exhausted. She wished for a cup of coffee, real coffee, not the chicory kind. Would it be so bad to go to the farmhouse and beg for a cup, the way some had come to her own back door now and again, those who’d found themselves off the beaten path and worse off than most? She thought about it only a second. As Ray Cobb, it would be safer to simply drink some water.