After the last shovelful was put into place, Eve said one final goodbye, got into her mother's car, and took the first highway out of town.
She and her mother had planned this trip for months. The nurse would give her mother a final injection, make sure the pain meds were working, then head off for the night. Eve would sleep until the returning pain woke her mother up, then, in the long hour before she could inject the next shot, the two of them would plan.
Her mother had been what everyone called a "good woman." Every church service she was there, playing the old organ and leading the songs. Every church social she was there, carrying a dish, helping to clean up. Every school event that needed a volunteer, every sickness in town, every death. Then, when it was obvious that treatment wasn't helping that the "good woman" would die, no one came. Eve dropped out of high school, stopped cheerleading, stopped dating, stopped everything and learned the truth about this "good woman."
She had always wanted to travel but she was a responsible daughter, a dutiful wife, a caring single mother, a devoted member of the church. She was obsessed with every cheesy roadside attraction, every historical marker, but she had never been to see a single one that didn't exist outside a twenty mile radius of her home. Eve had learned a lesson between sixteen and seventeen that most people don't learn until they had children of their own: her mother had given up almost everything for her and for other people. She had learned the strength that had taken and she was humbled by it.
Her mother had learned something those two years as well. Her vivacious, beautiful daughter, the girl who was head cheerleader as a sophomore, who laughed at disapproving looks, who laughed at everything, the girl who had somehow come from her was never, ever, going to be the woman she, herself, had become. Eve had sacrificed her last two years of high school and her mother wanted to be sure that her child would have more than she had.
And now Eve found herself on a highway in the middle of Iowa, her mother's old Chevy convertible as fixed up as it ever would be, a few bags in the trunk and what money was left in the bank. She had maps and maps, marked and scribbled on in two different handwritings, and an itinerary that would take her from the Heartland to the coast and then all the way across the country again. If she was smart, if she was careful, she could make it and have some cash left over, something to start a new life with, far from a small town in the heart of Iowa that she vowed she would never see again.
And so it was with a certain sense of irony that she sat in the car, the hood popped up and the top popped down, and tried to figure out what to do next. She was sure she knew the problem, a water pump, possibly another sparkplug wire dying its painful death, but first there was the tow to arrange, which would cost money; the parts to buy, which would cost money; and the mechanic to hire, which, she laughed out loud, would cost money.
She pulled off her sunglasses and met her own eyes in the mirror, evaluating what she saw. The blonde hair was fairly new, she'd died it to match her mother's and she had to admit, it worked very well. A sandy blonde, touched with the sun and full of highlights. It made her brown eyes look better, set off her skin. Her face, that she could see a few flaws in, but as far as she knew, no one else ever had. She had learned to use that face to her advantage and dealing with doctors and lawyers had only strengthened that skill. There was an innocence in the large eyes, the fine nose and high cheekbones, and innocence the smile could shatter. Looking down, she inspected the rest of herself. Years of dance and gymnastics had sculpted a long, lean body, all legs and fine curves, topped off with breasts some girls liked to snicker weren't possibly real. Any girl who'd been in the locker room with her could argue otherwise. Once the bra was off, they settled nicely, swung with a weight that begged to be touched. They weren't too large, something she was grateful for, just large enough.
But she was still dressed in black from the funeral, an old dress of her mother's that did little for her form. She'd driven all night in it, stopping only for gas and if traffic on this backroad highway held true to its patterns, she should have just enough time to change before the next car came by.
Shoes, thigh highs, panties were quickly shimmied down, a short, pleated skirt pulled up. The bra was fine, but the dress went over the head, a tight, white t-shirt that barely reached the waistband of her skirt taking its place. As she packed the dress carefully away, pulling out low white tennis shoes and a tiny pair of panties, she thought twice and put the undies back in the bottom of the suitcase. The shoes went on, the trunk went down and she almost skipped her way back to the front of the car. The breeze on her shaved pussy was warm, the sun was bright, and she had a plan.
She was about to scream in frustration when the sound of a truck reached her ears, bringing a smile to her face. Standing and watching, the smile grew even more when the truck popped over the hill. A tow truck. Her luck was improving.
She stepped close to the side of the road and jumped up and down, waving her arms, making sure there was no way she could be missed, not that she was too worried. But the jumping had always done interesting things to her anatomy and watching the stands at the games had taught her that it was the quickest way to get attention onto her when she wanted it. The tow truck began slowing immediately, the gears roughly downshifted, until it shuddered to a halt on the shoulder in front of her car.
The door creaked open and a tall man stepped out. He was in his fifties, she guessed, and had the build of a football coach, hard muscle covered with a touch of a paunch. His jeans were loose and stained with grease, his t-shirt smeared as well, but when he got close, she didn't smell any body odor beyond the musk brought on by the day and his hands were clean, even under the nails.
"Car trouble," the deep voice and the way he looked at her made her stomach flutter and he was even taller when he stood that close to her, not too close, but close enough to make her look up to meet his eyes.
"I think its the water pump again, do you think you could take a look?" she didn't play dumb or sultry, she straight lined it, but he looked her up and down all the same, his smile growing at what he saw.
Giving a nod, he moved to the front of the car, just brushing her with his arm as he passed by. She turned with him and leaned in as well, pointing out the parts as she named them, "The pump's been trouble for awhile now and the spark plug wires have been starting to go."
He nodded again and his arm brushed her chest for the second time as he reached for the plugs, giving the wires a shake and clucking his tongue, "Go and give it a try, let me hear what it does."
