The drive home was agonizing. Not only did his thoughts torture him the entire way, but so too did his aching muscles. The only comfort was the low rumble of the engine in his 1984 Ford pickup. The horses thundered when he pressed down on the pedal, but at a steady speed, like the one he was cruising at now, it sounded as a stampede would from a mile away.
From time to time, his eyes would begin growing heavy, but he would catch himself with a quick jerk of the head. It was a small movement, violent, and its only intention was to shake the sleep from his bones, but it wasn’t going to work for much longer. As he rolled down the window for a little fresh air, he replayed the short conversation with Davie in his head.
“It’s about Vanessa. Even now, she’s…”
She’s, what? Getting into some sort of trouble? That wasn’t very likely, but then again, he hadn’t been around much, as of late. With the extra shifts he’s had to cover, there have been times when days would pass before he had a chance to sit down and relax with his family.
He tried to imagine the mischief that she could be getting herself into, but nothing even came close to believable in his eyes. Could she be stealing? Not very likely. She spent most of her time lost in her own imagination, and material objects were only as precious as she made them out to be. She still played with that unfinished figurine of hers!
Just that thought alone ruled out any destructive behaviour. Most times, she didn’t move from one spot for hours, so it wasn’t very likely that she was tearing the neighborhood up. She was loud, at the very most, and that wasn’t very often. There were times when he’d be working outside and he’d have to stop just to make sure she was still there.
“Ugh,” he moaned wearily. While he was almost home, three o’clock was just around the corner. Six came even sooner. But before he could lay down, he had a promise to keep. Davie was waiting up, with whatever important information that he thought he needed to know, and if anything, he was a man of his word.
As he fought to stifle off another yawn, he tightened his knuckles around the wheel in determination. Only twenty more minutes stood between him and the answers to his questions. Hopefully, only a half an hour stood between him and his bed.
I think… I want to grab hold of this in a paperback edition. Engaging storytelling. x