Page 70 of Ice Darling
“You were just trying to protect me from getting hurt.”
“Still…I could have been calmer.”
“We were in a high-pressure situation that required a high-pressure response. Being gentle and quiet wouldn’t have kept that drill from stabbing me.”
April makes a motion with her fingers, almost like she’s spinning something. “May tells me that I can be prickly with people. I know I can come across as too serious, especially when it comes to cars, but I love working with you, and I’m really inspired by how seriously you take the trade. You may be new to the profession, but I see you having a long career ahead of you.”
Inside, a warm ball of fire glows. As a Davenport, I’ve received a ton of compliments from people who want something from me or my family. But I’ve worked so hard at becoming a decent mechanic, and I really,reallywant to be good at fixing cars. April’s words mean the world to me.
“Thank you.”
Now that the air is cleared, I feel less weight on my shoulders, and I return to work on the vehicle with gusto.
Perhaps a little too much gusto.
As I’m putting the wiring back together, I lose a screw and go digging for it. My hand scrapes against a sharp edge, and I hiss in pain. Blood drips down my fingers to the grass.
With a sigh, I wipe the blood against my overalls and keep pushing. I’m so close to fixing the problem, and I don’t want to stop now.
“Delia!” A familiar voice chirps.
Gordie skips under the tent, her brown eyes sparkling. She’s in pigtails and jeans. Her green T-shirt matches the color of the grass all along the acreage.
“Hi, Gordie,” I say, excitement creeping into my voice. I’m still trying to figure out why I feel so at ease around this little girl when other children still make me uncomfortable.
“I’m here for my school project,” Gordie says, holding out a sparkly Hello Kitty pencil and matching Hello Kitty book.
“That’s great.” I reach out to pinch her cherub cheeks and then realize that my hand is stained with dirt, engine oil, and a little blood.
Quickly pulling my hand behind my back, I grin at her. “How was school today?”
As Gordie prattles about her science class planting beans in cotton, I make eye contact with Renthrow. His gaze is strong and steady on me, and my stomach flutters.
“Gordie, ask the ladies your questions, and don’t take too much of their time. Remember, they’re doing us a favor, but they have a lot of cars to fix.”
“It’s no problem at all,” Rebel says, sashaying over in her pink jumpsuit. She points at Renthrow behind his back and wiggles her eyebrows.
April hollers from across the bay, “Take your time, Renthrow! Delia’s not busy!”
“Hey!” I plant my hands on my hips, giving my bosses the stink-eye.
When I glance at Renthrow again, his eyebrows have pulled taut, and he’s glaring daggers at something on me. I look in the direction of his stare and realize that my gash is bleeding again.
I whip my hand behind my back.
But it’s too late.
Renthrow charges over, reminding me of a bull seeing red. In a blink, he’s beside me and, when he reaches for my hand, I expect him to grab it and yank.
However, he cradles my fingers with the gentlest of embraces and scrutinizes my hand.
Feeling self-conscious, I try to pull my hand away. “I’m?—”
He doesn’t even let me finish. In a strong, authoritative voice, he says, “Gordie, get Daddy a rag from that bin we passed by.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Gordie says like an obedient little soldier.
Rebel, drawn by the shift in the air, draws closer and sees my gash. She gasps, “Cordelia, when did you get hurt?”
