There are two or three chapters of this story which are "flashbacks" to an earlier time and place. I have used the chapter titles to indicate any change in timeline. I hope this does not confuse the reader.
This story was edited by ErikThread, Mostera1, and Jerry@EditSol with my thanks. Any errors are mine alone.
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Chapter 1
May 16, 2013 Cove Road, Vancouver Island, B.C.
She approached the entrance to the house with trepidation, desperate for some help, knocking three times sharply on the heavy wood door. A young boy stood silently beside her, the woman holding his hand. At length, she could hear footsteps approaching and the door opened.
"Can I help you?" the man asked, looking the two over carefully. He was older, perhaps nearly forty, not tall, nice wavy brown hair and penetrating blue eyes.
"Please. My car has broken down and ... and I don't know what to do. Can you help?"
He detected a faint accent, soon identifying it. "Well, I'm not an auto mechanic but I know a little about cars, Miss ... er ... Ma'am. What seems to be the trouble?" He took a step toward the woman and she quickly backed up, pulling the boy with her. The expression on her face was one of fear, the man realized.
The woman was attractive, despite her worried and fatigued appearance. Perhaps a five-foot-six tall, blonde hair, fair complexion, a sprinkling of freckles on her cheeks, and blue eyes full of apprehension. It was hard to judge her age, but she might have been in her late twenties.
"I ... I don't know. It just quit. I left it by the side of the road," she said, turning and pointing south along Cove Road.
"You don't suppose it's just run out of gas," he suggested.
She shook her head. "No, I had enough money to buy some gas in Duncan a few minutes ago. Then, it just quit."
The man examined her carefully once more before he spoke. "Okay, why don't you come inside and rest. You look tired from your walk."
The woman appeared very nervous and the young boy still had said nothing, looking from his mother to the man expectantly. She might have been attractive, but the man was now more focused on her wariness of him.
"We'll be alright. We just need to get the car going again," she said, still not moving to enter.
The man sighed and nodded. "Very well then. Let's go see if we can figure out what's wrong. Just let me get my jacket and keys," he said, turning to take a windbreaker off a coat tree and checking to make sure the keys were in the pocket.
He locked the door behind him and the three set off down his long driveway toward the road and her vehicle.
"What your name, Ma'am. I'm Cam Stuart."
"Uhhm ... Glynnis ... Glynnis Urquhart ... and this is my son, James ... Jamie," she said nervously.
"Huh, sounds like our family backgrounds come from the same country ... Scotland," he suggested. "I guess that accounts for your fading accent."
"Yes ... that's right. I was born in Scotland, but came to Canada when I was five."
She was beginning to loosen up a little, perhaps accepting that the man meant her no harm and might be able to help. She took a good look at him, noting his near six foot height and neatly trimmed brown hair. He was well dressed, polite, and good looking but older; perhaps late thirties or early forties. He had kindly eyes and his expression was one of concern for her and her son.
"Do you live around here?" he asked.
"No," she answered simply, adding no other information. Still, the boy remained silent.
"How old are you, James?" he persisted, keeping the boy's name formal.
"Six," he answered quickly. "I'm going to school this fall."
"Are you moving here?" he tried, once more turning to the mother.
The woman, Glynnis, seemed to be more relaxed now, but still hesitant to add much information.
"I don't know. I would like to. It's very pretty, and it looks to be very quiet. It depends."
"Where are you from?"
She turned to him, a brief look of alarm appeared before she answered. "Kamloops."
"Just the two of you?"
"Yes."
He could see an older model dark red sedan up ahead, parked on the shoulder of the road. "That your car?"
"Yes," she nodded.
He approached the vehicle and noticed a pile of clothes and other boxes in the back seat. The doors were locked until the woman used her key to open the driver's side. Cam slipped into the driver's seat, moving it back to make more space for his legs. The key in the ignition, he turned it to start and got no response. He checked the dashboard and saw a couple of dim lights, but there was no sound from the starter. Shutting the ignition switch off, he looked for the hood release and finding it, pulled it.
He stepped out of the car and lifted the hood, propping it open. The dashboard lights indicated she had very little battery power, so the answer to the failure was likely that the alternator had died and took the battery with it. A quick check showed that the wiring was intact.
"Would you try and start the car, Ms. Urquhart," he requested calmly.
She responded immediately and slid into the driver's seat and turned the key. Cam could hear the weak click, click, click, indicating the starter was not responding whatever little the battery was providing.
"I'm pretty sure your battery has run down, probably because the alternator has quit," he said.
"Oh, no," she groaned. "I don't think I can afford to get it fixed."
"It shouldn't be too expensive. I can probably get a rebuilt or salvaged one from the wrecker's yard and install it," he suggested.
"How much will it cost?" she asked, her face telling him this was very bad news.
"Let me phone him and find out. In the meantime, I'll get my tractor out and we'll tow the car to the house. Whatever we do, we don't want to leave it here. It'll likely get towed and the bill for that will be more than the alternator, I'm certain."
"Thank you, Mister Stuart. I really appreciate your help. We really need to get the car fixed if we can."
