Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [45]
He swore. Three broken stops in two hours of work! Alejandro was a good guy and had predicted this learning curve. But with that third break, Brady knew he had actually cost the company money for that shift. He would not be docked, but what would the foreman think?
Alejandro had said such was the price of his training, but with everything else going on in Brady’s life, he suddenly couldn’t abide this. It was embarrassing, humiliating. Worse, what if the former guy’s back got better and Alejandro got tired of waiting for Brady to be productive? Maybe he would get switched to sweeping floors for just pennies or, worse, lose his job.
Brady carefully snagged the broken stop with one fork and slung it out of the way, then grabbed another good one, completed the pallet, and loaded it onto the delivery truck.
He knew the right thing was to move the broken stop onto the pile with the other two so Alejandro would see the true picture in the morning. But forty feet past the delivery truck was a steep drop into a ditch. Did anyone ever look down there?
Brady hopped off the truck and crept to the edge. He squinted in the darkness where it appeared a trickle of water ran through some gravel. Hurrying back, he fired up the machine, grabbed the third stop, and drove it to the edge. He raised the lift and angled the forks so the cracked slab slid off. But he didn’t hear it roll to the bottom.
Furious, Brady scampered off to find that the thing had stuck to the muddy side of the gulley, midway down. Maybe that was good. Someone would have to look hard to see it. But it would be even better if he could cover it. There would be no getting the truck down there without it flipping, so Brady ventured down, quickly ankle deep in the soggy incline. It took him twenty minutes to dig and spread more mud over the block.
As he parked the forklift and went to turn off the lights in the outbuilding, Brady saw how mud-caked he was. His shoes were covered, his pants filthy to the knees. He’d have to leave early the next night and wash them at the Laundromat, but the shoes were another matter. He hosed them down before walking home, squeaking and leaking as he went.
At the trailer he sat on the steps and removed shoes and socks, setting the shoes where the morning sun might dry them before he left for school. He wrung out his socks, making enough noise to rouse his mother. She moved to the doorway and blocked the light.
“So what’d you do, fall in? Thought you were driving a forklift.”
He turned and pushed past her.
“Answer me, you oaf! You too uncoordinated to even stay in a truck?”
There was so much he wanted to say, to do. But if he could just settle into this job, get them comfortable enough with him that he would never be suspected if he raided the office, he would be out of the trailer soon enough.
Nabertowitz was still on his case about his grades, but Brady had an image to protect. What would it look like, him meeting with a teacher, especially more than one, and having a tutor assigned? Some kid, maybe even younger, sitting with him in study hall and working with him?
Like that would happen.
Peebles
“You’re going to be surprised at how this hits me, Thomas,” Grace said, dishing out their meals as if moving in slow motion. “While it doesn’t sound like there’ll be a role for me, at least that I know of—perhaps I can write letters or send in baked goods or something—I can at least pray for you and for the men you’d minister to. But two things about it are really attractive to me. Can you guess?”
He smiled, chewing, and shook his head.
“First, we will be able to find a church to just attend and enjoy. Can you imagine simply drinking in some teaching and not having responsibilities? How I’d love that. Oh, I’m sure we’d both get busy soon enough, teaching Sunday school and whatnot, but we’d just be members. Lord, forgive me, but it sounds delicious. I could organize the ladies to somehow minister to prisoners.”
“You said two things.”
She nodded and sat back, setting down her chopsticks after only two bites. “I did,