“I’d check the power steering,” she continued, pointing to various parts as she went along, “power-steering pump, water pump, carburetor, window-washing fluid.” She was on a roll. “I need to check the alternator, to make sure the clamp is on securely and the wires are secured behind it. Then there’s the heater hose, the coolant, the radiator hose, transmission fluid, and oil dipstick.” She checked it all and turned to him triumphantly. “And that’s it for the engine.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It’s not?”
She deflated like a balloon. As hard as she’d tried, as much as she’d concentrated, she’d still managed to forget something.
“You didn’t check your belts.”
Automatically her hand flew to her waist.
“In the engine.”
“I know,” she said, trying to look at him like he was crazy for thinking she’d had anything different in mind. She bent over the engine and tugged at the fan belt. “They shouldn’t give more than an inch.” She turned back to him. “Words to live by, right, Luke? Don’t give an inch.”
“You think I’m inflexible?”
“If the shoe fits…”
“Hey, you’re here, aren’t you?”
She looked at him in disbelief. “Not because of any great flexibility on your part!”
“I’m being more flexible than you think.”
Something in Grace snapped. She was so sick and tired of feeling like a burden to people—to her lawyer, who was letting her pay in installments; to her mother, who was letting them live with her; to Fred Bailey, who had taken it upon himself to get this job for her; and even to Luke, who had been “persuaded” to give her the job against his will and who now had to take the time to teach her the ropes—that she sometimes thought she might just scream.
“Look, Luke,” she said, with as much control as she could muster. “I know you don’t want me here. I know you think I can’t do this, and I know that even if you did think I could do it, you would resent the hell out of the fact that Fred Bailey suggested that you give me the job.”
He gave a short laugh.
She continued without stopping. “I know all of that, but none of it is going to make me quit. All it’s going to do is make me more determined than ever to succeed at this, so you should be glad that, whether you wanted to or not, you just hired yourself the best damn bus driver you could have gotten.” The timbre of her voice rose as she spoke, and she took a moment to breathe and regain her composure. “Now. I’m going to take the test in two days and I’m going to pass it and I’m going to drive the kids to and from school, and I don’t want to hear one more word about how undeserving I am—got it?”
He looked at her for a long moment, during which she doubted the wisdom of her mini-diatribe, then the wisdom of taking the job, then the wisdom of wearing cut-off shorts that made her feel as bloated as a poisoned cat.
The silence went on so long that she was about to ask if he was all right when he spoke.
“Hit your knees,” he said.
Grace’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
He gestured at the ground. “You’re not finished with the test. Hit your knees and identify the parts underneath the vehicle.”
“Oh.” The color came back into her cheeks. “Okay.”
“What did you think I meant?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “I knew what you meant. I’m supposed to check the parts underneath, front, back and sides. I know that.”
Smiling to himself, Luke watched Grace bend down and look under the front of the bus. He couldn’t help it, he loved the way she looked in those faded blue cut-offs. Her legs were long and shapely, and already tanned even though it was still early in the summer. Somehow those cut-offs reminded him of endless hot summers, and clumsy passion and foolish optimism.
“Luke?”
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize for a moment she was speaking to him. “Yeah. Sorry, I was…thinking about something.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You back now? Should I go on?”
“Absolutely, yes.”
“Okay.” She cleared her throat and turned back to the bus, giving him a pretty dazzling view from behind. “I check the stabilizer bar, guide arm, tie rod, tie rod ends—” she emphasized the tie rod ends, he noticed, since that was one of the items she consistently forgot “—brake lines to the disc brakes in front and the drum brakes in back, coil spring, shock absorber, power-steering pump, Pitman arm.” She took a breath. “Make sure there are no leaks in the power-steering box, radiator hose, fuel pump and water pump.” She stood up and slapped her dirty hands against the front of her shorts. “Everything’s okay from the front.”
“Good.” He’d barely been able to keep his mind on the engine parts, so he hoped she hadn’t forgotten anything major. She got down on her hands and knees at the side and started talking again. “All right, here are the transmission lines, and they are not leaking. The cross beams are secure, no cracks or leaks in the mufflers—” she looked back at him “—of which there are two. If you’re to be believed.”
“There are two,” he confirmed.
“It’s just that I’ve never heard of a car having two mufflers,” she said.
“This isn’t a car, it’s a bus, and there are two mufflers on it.”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “I’ve just never heard of it.”
“But you’ve seen them,” he said, exasperated. “You’re supposed to be looking at them right now.”
“Well, I am.”
He hesitated. “Grace?”
She looked guilty. “What?”
“Are you looking at them? Are you looking at anything as you identify it, or are you just rattling off a bunch of stuff you memorized?”
“Does it make a difference?”
“Does it make a difference?” he repeated incredulously. “Of course it makes a difference!” Grace was hopeless, he decided. There was no way she was going to pass the test unless she was able to charm whoever was administering it. If it was Bob Gaylord or Stan Vanderhof she’d be okay, but if she got Myrna Franz, Grace was in real trouble. “Grace, we’ve spent two weeks going over this damned bus, piece by piece. I know it’s not the most interesting thing you’ll ever do—”
“Luke.”
She spoke so quietly that he stopped.
He looked at her. “What?”
She crooked a finger at him, beckoning him over. “Come here. I’ll show you.”
He went to her and crouched next to her, and tried to ignore the seductive scent of her shampoo…which told him he was too close to her for his own good.
“That,” she said, “is the drive line. We’re checking to make sure the universal joints there—” she identified them correctly “—are secure.” She swept her arm down toward the back tire. “There you have the leaf springs, held on at the spring hanger and secured, as you can see, by a U-bolt. That also holds the rear axle there in place.”
She was right on all counts. He leaned in and looked to make sure. It was hot between them, but he wasn’t sure if it was the engine, the weather or something else.
“That’s the gas tank,” Grace was saying.