A Fresh Start

A sweet story of "what's meant to be, will be" by Laura Turner

“You never know when you might need a mechanic.”

Jenny recalled her late mother’s words as she adjusted her easel gone askew. She smoothed the skirts of her cherry red floral dress, dipped the delicate paintbrush into deep crimson, and tapped it precisely across the parchment. Taking her mother’s place at the Summerville Art Exhibit and finishing her final piece of watercolors on paper seemed the least she could do to honor her.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” A little girl with coffee-colored pigtails and a splay of freckles across her nose pulled on her skirts. “Do you take tips here?” she asked, her rosy cheeks aglow.

The question caught Jenny off guard. She rinsed her sable brush and set it on the table. “Yes, I suppose I have a tip jar around here someplace,” Jenny returned, meeting the girl’s dark-eyed gaze. She routed through her army-colored knapsack and pulled out a canister with “tips” marked on it. She should have thought of this sooner.

“Now you can ride on the horses.” The young girl smiled with a wide grin, her front tooth missing. The horses, Jenny thought with a charge. She had left everything behind, accusing Summerville of being a one-horse town. The girl put her tiny hand in her pocket, dropping four silver quarters into the jar. “Part of my tooth fairy money.”

Yet, when Jenny turned around to thank the girl, she’d already disappeared.

After the freckle-faced girl dropped money into the jar, others followed. And by the end of the day’s exhibition, Jenny had collected some loose change and quite a bit of quiet money.

Later, though, after Jenny covered her easel and exited the exhibit hall to her mom’s parked car, she found the engine wouldn’t turn over.

Jenny retrieved the quiet money from the exhibit. “Summerville Auto garage,” she instructed the driver. The garage was just down the street from her mother’s house on Oak Tree Drive. “They’re open late on Thursdays...and Bradley Alexander is always there to help,” her mother prescribed.

“Jenny Matthews! Oh, sorry.” Bradley wiped a soiled hand across his blue Summerville Automotive uniform and took hers, the electricity between them quickly escalating. She noticed he was no worse for the wear after several lost years. A few asterisks left the corners of his dark eyes, but his welcoming dimples were pronounced as ever, his hair cropped short in auburn waves, his smile gleaming.

“In the flesh,” she trilled but then sobered. “I was sorry to hear of your and Claire’s breakup.”

“Yes, the brat pack of Summerville High.” He brightened, speaking of all best friends, Claire, Bradley, and Jenny. “Remember the prom? I never forgot it,” he reminisced of him escorting Jenny to the event. But Claire wanted to stay in Summerville, marry, and have children.

“My mother’s car won’t start.” Jenny was almost in tears. “I’m used to public transportation.” Jenny’s mom had become ill earlier in the year, and she returned from urban living to stay in Summerville for a while. “I need to be back to the exhibit tomorrow. Can you help?”

Bradley’s lips turned up in a wattage smile, and she flooded with warmth as his muscles instinctively flexed. “Follow me,” he said, leading her back to his truck. And together, the two returned to the stranded vehicle. Taking the keys, Bradley opened the hood. “Looks like you’ve got a loose terminal to the battery,” he said over a broad shoulder. “Easy fix.” Bradley pulled a cap from his pocket, plugging it in solidly. The car turned over on the first try.

The next day, Jenny returned to her post, dipping her brush into crimson paint and touching up the delicate watercolor flowers on her easel. The painting had won first prize, earning her a gold ribbon.

Soon, the little girl with pigtails and freckles returned. This time, Jenny offered her four quarters. “Add this to your tooth fairy money,” she countered. “The tips I made yesterday earned me enough to hire a driver and fix my car. But now I’ve locked myself out.”

Bradley Alexander stepped toward the pigtailed girl, and Jenny’s heart leapt. The girl wrapped her arms around his neck. “Now you can ride on the horses, Laurie. I’ll take you to the carousel later this afternoon.” He kissed her cheek. “And then you can finish creating your pony paint-by-numbers,” Bradley advised.

They all laughed as Jenny rinsed her sable brush and set her creative gear aside. Bradley jingled a loose set of keys. “Your mother gave me an extra set for safekeeping.” He wound the keys through his strong hands. “Just as I told her, you never know when you might need a mechanic,” he said in a sing-song.

“Well, maybe so.” Jenny once more emptied her jar and then fingered the extra battery cap loose in her pocket. “But my bet is on the horses.”

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