Page 8 of Good Directions

3

SAWYER

“What can I do ya for, Miss?”

A deep, gentle Georgia accent greets me as I slide out of my car, an older gentleman in coveralls appearing from the mechanics’ bay, wiping his hands with a well-used rag. Everything about him screams good ol’ boy, from his smile down to his boots, and a trustworthiness radiates off him, immediately putting me at ease.

A noble mechanic indeed.

“Err, umm, my AC is out.”

“Rough day for that.” He gives me a gentle once-over, appraising me in a way that reminds me of a dad checking over their kid to make sure they’re safe. “And by the looks of you, you’ve been roasting in there for a while.”

I nod, shoulders slumping as I twist my hair back and wipe the sweat from my neck. “Since just south of Macon. I would have stopped sooner, but my GPS sent me on a back road adventure trying to avoid a backup on the interstate and…”

I trail off. This man doesn’t need to know my life story. He nods understandingly nonetheless, not looking the least put out by my rambling.

“One sec,” he says, disappearing back off to the side, into what looks like a little office. He reappears in the blink of an eye, an even bigger smile spreading across his face, and holds up quite possibly the most valued asset in the world at the moment. A hair tie. “Here.”

Holy shit…I think I could kiss him…

“Th-thank you,” I sputter, so taken aback that a man his age, with clearly zero use for them, has a hair tie lying around. Although I’m not going to question it. Nope. Just say a little thank you to the universe.

“I’ve got two daughters; those darn things are everywhere. They’re both grown and married, but I still seem to be finding them everywhere I turn,” he says with a laugh.

I owe his daughters a thank you too.

“So, the AC. How long do you think it will take to fix?” I ask sheepishly.

I might not be on a schedule, but that doesn’t mean that I want to be without my car for days, or worse, weeks on end either. I have to be at the Hayes Ag lab on Monday morning.

“Depends.” He nods again, turning to the car to give her a once-over. His visual inspection of her is a lot more scrutinizing than the one he gave me, his lips pursed to one side as he lifts the hood. “If all you need is a recharge, then thirty minutes? Hour at most. But if it requires an actual fix…you’re looking at maybe a day or two?”

“Oh.”

A day or two. Well…shit.

Okay, that’s not that bad. It won’t be weeks. Granted, I don’t have any idea where the motel that I’m booked at, the Ramblers’ Rest, is compared to here. I assume that I’ll need my car to get there. And I’ll certainly need it to get to Hayes. I also highly doubt ride share is a thing here. Nor are taxis. Which means I’ll be hoofing it to at least the motel. But, if it’s only a day or two, then maybe I can email Cary and see if being there on Tuesday would be a deal-breaker.

Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.

Assuming that’s what it is. This gentleman hasn’t confirmed that. It could be the hour-long option.

Dear universe, please let it be the hour-long option…

“How soon until you know?” I ask.

He doesn’t look up from whatever he’s fiddling with under the hood, so I let my question hang in the air, like a balloon that doesn’t know if it should fly away into the forever or drop to the ground from a heavy weight. The long stretch of quiet is marked with dings and clanks as he continues to twist and turn things about. The longer he goes without responding, the more uneasy I grow.

This doesn’t seem like it’s going to be the hour-long option.

After what feels like forever, he looks up. I don’t like his expression though.

“Good news, I’m not seeing a leak. But I’m not convinced that it’s a simple recharge. I’m gonna need a bit with it to give her a proper diagnosis.”

Well, that’s not bad news. Yet.

“That’s fine. Do you have a waiting room I can hang out in? I’ve got my laptop so I can just work while I wait.”