The Diary by Eileen Goudge

entirely?
    Her steps were heavy as she climbed the stairs to her room. The only thing to guide her way, glowing like a lighted window at the back of her mind, was the thought of seeing AJ in just two days.
    She arrived at the Brass Rail at the appointed hour to find AJ’s station wagon parked out front, as promised. But it didn’t look as if they’d be going anywhere, at least not in his Studebaker: Its hood was open, and AJ was bent over fiddling with something in the engine. She felt her anxiety mount as she approached him. What if they were spotted out here by someone who blabbed to Bob? Would he be so quick a second time to dismiss it as a chance encounter?
    As if sensing her presence, AJ straightened and turned to face her. He broke into a grin, jerking his head in the direction of the open hood. “Fuel pump—looks like I’ll need a new one,” he said with the relaxed air of someone accustomed to such mishaps. He pulled a rag from the back pocket of his trousers and used it to wipe the grease from his hands.
    â€œSounds serious,” she said, her eyes on his long, supple fingers as he rubbed them clean.
    â€œNothing that ten bucks or so can’t fix.” He stuffed the rag back into his pocket and slammed the hood down. “But I’m afraid it’ll have to wait until morning. Gabe’s is closed for the night.” The Chevron owned by Gabe Corcoran was the only service station in town. “Now, about that drink …” Elizabeth felt herself grow panicky. “I was thinking it might be best if I took a rain check on that, seeing as how you wouldn’t want it getting back to your fiancé. What do you say we go for a drive instead?”
    Elizabeth nodded, weak with relief. “We could take my car.” It was her mother’s, actually, but she used it to drive to and from work every day. She could easily have afforded her own car with what she’d saved out of her paychecks, but Mildred didn’t approve of young ladies owning cars. It caused them to become far too independent, in her opinion. And what would her mother have to say about a young lady stepping out behind her “fiancé’s” back?
    But Elizabeth was so eager to be alone with AJ that it was easy to shut out the voice in her head warning her that it would only lead to more complications. His eyes were bluer than she remembered, or maybe it was the last rays of the setting sun slanting across his face that made them appear so. She could see the faintest of lines fanning from their corners and felt as though she were catching a glimpse of the more mature man he’d be one day. She felt a pang, wondering if she’d have the chance to know that man or if this was as far as the road would take them.
    â€œWe could do that,” he said. “Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”
    â€œNot really. Why don’t we just see where the road takes us?” Her carefree words did nothing to ease the self-consciousness that seized hold of her as they strolled, side by side, to where her car was parked. Suddenly she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands. They flopped at her sides like newly sprouted appendages to which she hadn’t yet grown accustomed, the one nearest AJ jerking away as if from a hot stove when she accidentally brushed against him.
    Soon they were cruising along the rural route just outside town. “Corn looks to be ready for harvesting,” AJ observed as he sat idly gazing out the window at the cornfields rolling past.
    She nodded in agreement. “Mr. Hathaway down at the hardware store says it’s going to be a good year!”
    â€œRain always makes for a good year.”
    â€œWell, it certainly was welcome after that dry spell we had.”
    Small talk. Was that what they’d been reduced to? Nonetheless, the meaningless conversation was a safe haven into which she gratefully retreated. Better that than