Finally, I asked, “Have you eaten?”
He shook his head.
“Not really.”
I nodded toward the road.
“Come on. I’ll buy you a burger.”
We stopped at a Sheetz on Plank Road.
The pickup remained secured on my flatbed.
Dallas and I sat near the window eating burgers wrapped in paper.
For a while, we talked about ordinary things.
The lumberyard.
The weather.
Work prospects.
Then Dallas looked toward me.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
He hesitated.
“Aunt Misty said you had a lot of money saved from your business.”
I looked toward him.
“Did she?”
He nodded.
“She said you wouldn’t help me buy the truck because you didn’t like Mom.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
Then I set down my burger.
“Dallas, the money she wanted came from Abby’s college savings.”
He stared.
“What?”
I took a breath.
“Every late-night tow I worked while she was growing up, I put money away for her education.”
Dallas looked toward the window.
“That was Abby’s money?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
He sat very still.
Then asked, “How old was she?”
“Thirteen.”
He looked down.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he whispered, “She told me it was your extra savings.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
He stared toward the pickup outside.
Then said something I hadn’t expected.
“I wouldn’t have taken it.”
I looked toward him.
He swallowed.
“If I’d known it was for Abby, I wouldn’t have wanted it.”
I believed him.
He’d been eighteen.
Excited about a truck he couldn’t really afford.
Someone had promised him the money.
He hadn’t understood what the promise required another child to give up.
I took a breath.
“I believe you, Dallas.”
He looked relieved.
Then asked, “Are you mad at me?”
I considered the question.
“No.”
He stared.
“I’m sorry about all of it.”
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
For a while, we finished eating in silence.
Then I asked whether he was looking for work.
He nodded.
“Everywhere.”
I reached into my jacket pocket and took out a business card.
“Horseshoe Towing is hiring.”
Dallas looked surprised.
I continued.
“It’s entry-level work. You’ll need training. The hours can be inconvenient, and I expect people to show up when they’re scheduled.”
He looked toward the card.
“You’d hire me?”
I smiled faintly.
“I’d consider your application.”
The following morning, he arrived at my shop carrying a completed form.
He’d spelled Horseshoe incorrectly.
I didn’t mention it.
I interviewed him.
Checked his driving record.
Explained the requirements.
Then offered him a trainee position.
Dallas turned out to be one of the best employees I ever hired.
He learned quickly.
Worked carefully.
And never treated a difficult customer as an inconvenience.
Three years later, he was a trusted driver.
He’d saved enough to buy a twelve-year-old Chevy pickup with a dent in the tailgate.
He paid cash.
And he was prouder of that dented truck than he’d ever been of the lifted Ram.
I liked that.
Dallas eventually learned how much the original loan had affected Misty’s finances.
The cosigned debt remained a serious burden after the pickup was returned.
The lender applied the proceeds according to the loan terms, and any remaining balance had to be addressed through the normal process.
Misty’s credit had been affected by the missed payments.
Her relationship with Dallas became strained.
They stopped speaking regularly.
As far as I knew, she understood he’d found work driving a tow truck.
But she didn’t know who he worked for.
Dallas preferred to keep that part of his life private.
I respected his decision.
Janet knew.
She came by the shop one afternoon carrying a plate of brownies.
She stood near the entrance looking uncomfortable.
Then said quietly, “Perry, I owe you an apology.”
I looked up.
She continued.
“I should have asked where the money was supposed to come from before letting anyone promise it to Dallas.”
I nodded.
She took a breath.
“And thank you for giving him a chance.”
I looked toward the garage.
Dallas was helping another driver check equipment.
“He’s earned his place here.”
Janet smiled through tears.
“I know.”
She left the brownies.
They were excellent.
I told her so.
And life kept moving.
By the time Abby turned eighteen, she had a place at a nursing program and a scholarship from the hospital auxiliary where she’d volunteered.
Combined with the education fund, the scholarship meant her tuition and basic school expenses were covered without requiring us to rely on large loans.
She was excited.
I was proud.
And a little sad.
Her room filled with plastic storage bins.
Each had a label.
Towels.
Bedding.
Books.
School Supplies.
I kept finding myself standing in her doorway, looking at the bins and wondering how the little girl with the crooked ponytail had become an adult.
Moose seemed equally confused.
He would lie beside the bins and look toward me as though I might explain where everything was going.
I never had a good answer.
Then my sister Carrie called.
“Rosemary wants you and Abby to come for Sunday dinner.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
Carrie sighed.
“She says she wants to send Abby off properly.”
I nodded.
“That’s nice.”
Then Carrie hesitated.
“And she says she wants to get to know you better.”
I looked toward the window.
“She’s known me for twelve years.”
“I said that.”
“What did she say?”
“She said not really.”
I laughed.
Rosemary Dunlap was Carrie’s mother-in-law.
Carrie had married Casey, an insurance salesman with the patience of a man who’d spent his entire life explaining deductibles to people who didn’t want to hear about them.
Casey was agreeable.