“Are you sure?” Shayna was doubtful, looking between Finn and Bonnie as if she weren’t sure she could trust them, but not knowing what other options she had.
“We’ll stand right there at the windows so you can see us and so they can see you, all right?” Bonnie said kindly, and they all trailed after Clyde as he made a beeline for the entrance. The front of the store looked out onto the busy pumps, and Bonnie waved them away as she dug some quarters out of her purse, and she and Katy began feeding the sticker machine to the right of the front doors.
Shayna led him to a green Ford Fiesta that had seen better days and stood, her attention shifting back and forth between him and her children, who watched from inside the store. She looked exhausted, and Finn felt instant remorse for his ill feelings. He climbed inside and turned the key, hoping that the woman was wrong. The gear shift wouldn’t budge. He turned the key off and then just to the right, turning on the radio and the interior lights, but not starting the engine. Then he pumped the gas a few times and turned the wheel. Then he tried the key once more. No luck.
He remembered something he’d read once, just a snippet from some popular mechanics article. Funny—he could even remember the page number. His mind was like that, always associating a number with a piece of information. He called Shayna over and had her follow his instructions, turning the key to the alternator position and pumping the gas pedal while he bounced lightly on the back of the car.
“See if you can pop it into neutral,” he said, and felt the moment the car shifted out of park.
“You did it!” Shayna squealed.
“Now you steer as I push. Let’s get you out of the way before we try anything else.”
Bonnie and the kids came trundling out of the gas station, following them to the far side of the parking lot, sure that he’d fixed the problem. But in spite of the small success, the car still wouldn’t shift into drive, and Clyde didn’t dare shift it back into park for fear he wouldn’t be able to get it out again. He tried everything he could think of and then looked at the young mother in defeat. Her jaw was clenched, and she was blinking hard, and he could tell she was about to cry.
“How far is home?” he asked.
“We live in Portsmouth.”
“Where’s Portsmouth?
“It’s directly south of here, about a three hour drive. My in-laws live in North Carolina so they can’t help, but I can call my parents. They both work, though, and can’t leave until after six.” It was now noon.
“Husband?”
“My husband’s in Afghanistan.”
Well, shit.
“Finn?” Bonnie only had to say his name, and he knew what she wanted. She waited, her eyes on his.
“We’ll take you home.” Clyde said before he could think too hard about it. “It’s not that far out of our way.” Just three hours.
“I can’t leave the car. I have to get it back to Portsmouth, and I can’t pay to have it towed all that way.” Shayna was trying to hold it together, but the loss of the car was apparently the last straw.
“Finn?”
Clyde had no idea why that one word was so effective coming out of Bonnie’s lips, but he found himself suggesting something so horrendous he had to question if Bonnie used her voice to carry out mind control. Maybe that’s why she was a super star.
“We’ll pull it behind the Blazer. I’ve got a hitch, and I can get my hands on some chains. It’ll be slow going, but we’ll get you home.”
Bonnie beamed at him. Yep. Mind control.
Finn went to secure some chains and Bonnie bustled around rearranging bags and boxes to clear out the middle seat. Shayna took what she needed from her car, and the women went back inside for a final bathroom break.
Within a half hour, the green Ford Fiesta was rolling along behind the old Blazer, traveling at a blistering speed of forty-five miles an hour. It was going to be a long, long drive. Finn almost wished the cops would pull him over and haul him off.
I PULLED OUT Finn’s guitar about a half hour into the trip. I’d placed it in the front to make room for our passengers, and I’d sung a few songs just to keep them entertained. I was pretty sure little Katy knew exactly who I was. Finn was pretty sure of it too, and he kept shooting me looks, and I kept giving him smiles. He needed to relax. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and nobody was going to be sending him to jail. He clearly wasn’t used to having people talking about him, having news stories about him, having to live with the whole world thinking they were entitled to your business just because you sold records. I wasn’t worried about the police, and I definitely wasn’t worried about Katy Harris and her mama and baby sister calling the tabloids the minute we reached Portsmouth.
“Your name is Bonnie and you sound just like Bonnie Rae Shelby,” Katy said, her voice hushed and her eyes wide. “You look like her too, but with different hair.”
“That’s because I am Bonnie Rae Shelby,” I said. Finn looked at me and rolled his eyes. I stuck out my tongue and Katy laughed.
“How come you cut off your hair?” Katy obviously had no trouble believing I was who I said I was.
“I needed a change,” I lied. She didn’t need to know about the meltdown I’d had over my resemblance to Hank. “Just think, your hair will be as long as mine soon, and then you’ll be able to say you have Bonnie Rae hair, right?”
“Yeah! Except my hair is blonde . . . when I have hair, that is.”
“Well, then. I might just have to go blonde again so that we can be twins. Will you send me pictures so I can get the color just right?”