When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

3. Emmy

Chapter 3

Emmy

T he tangle of metal and tubes making up Betty’s engine might as well be a foreign language. She continues to let out strange sounds, like things are shifting or expanding, both of us stranded on the side of the road going nowhere fast. I lean forward, as if getting closer could somehow translate the complexity of the engine into something understandable.

Growing up, my life looked picture-perfect from the outside. Big house, prestigious schools, summer vacations in Europe. But standing here on the side of the road, with hands uselessly palming hips while I try not to look like a damsel in distress, it’s abundantly clear how many practical skills I never learned.

How to change a tire, how to budget, how to mend a hole in a piece of clothing, how to fix a damn engine—they were never part of the curriculum in the carefully curated life my parents designed.

Renowned surgeon Dr. Philip Brooks and Mrs. Clara Brooks, a major success in her own right, running a highly profitable PR firm, and their two perfect daughters… The ache in my chest returns, a sensation of pain building inside with no way out, a familiar visitor that seems to love reminding me of all the ways my life imploded in a single night .

A smile pushed into place. Betty breaking down is just a small setback, and even though everyone should know a little about cars, and I wish for a lot of things—that I had been less na?ve about by fiancé, more prepared to stand on my own two feet, less sheltered—there’s no time for self-pity.

I scroll my phone, searching for a nearby mechanic, as a few vehicles carefully signal and drive around us. No one honks, and it all feels remarkably civilized. Then a police cruiser approaches and pulls up behind me. The door opens and an older man steps out. He walks over with a reassuring smile beneath his silver mustache, his uniform neat, and badge shining under the midday sun.

“Need some help here? I’m Sheriff Donovan.”

“I’m Emmy Brooks.” A polite smile. “It’s just a little car trouble. I need to call a local mechanic and get a tow.” I glance down at my phone. “I’ll be fine, though. I can handle this.”

“Mind if I take a look?” Sheriff Donovan doesn’t really wait for an answer, he’s already looking at Betty’s engine and he bends down and touches a few things before shaking his head. “Looks like the head gasket. You’ll need to see Jimmy about this.”

“Jimmy?”

“He runs the garage just down the street. Best mechanic around. You’ll be in good hands.”

He’s already waving over a couple of men who had been enjoying their lunch at an outdoor table in front of Sweet Current Bakery, the bakery that had caught my eye right before Betty gave up on life.

“It’s not far. Just at the end of the street. We’ll push you.”

I start to protest. “Really, I’m fine. I can manage?—”

But Sheriff Donovan insists. “No trouble at all. Boys, let’s give her a hand, huh?”

The men nod and stroll over. One flashes a friendly grin. “No worries, we’ve got this. Just steer and we’ll push.”

Climbing back into Betty, both grateful and surprised at the unexpected help as I steer her slowly down Main Street with the sheriff and two locals pushing from behind. It’s not far to the mechanic, and the small town friendliness seems everywhere, from the people who call out, “Hey,” to the sheriff, to the kid who rides her bike alongside Betty, peppering me with questions about what happened before crossing the road and riding away down the boardwalk, her dark brown hair streaming out behind her in the wind.

“We’re here,” Sheriff Donovan announces as we reach a blue garage with Jimmy’s Auto Repair painted in bold letters across the top.

“Thank you, really. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sheriff Donovan replies with a kind smile. “Welcome to Harbor’s Edge, Emmy. You’ll find we look out for each other here.”

As they head back to work and their lunch, the door to the workshop swings open, and out steps a burly young man with blond hair and a well-kept beard, a sweet Golden Retriever trotting by his side. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and carries himself with an ease that speaks of strength.

The dog trots over, sniffing me before waiting for a pat, and I happily oblige. The guy gives me a quick once-over, but his gaze is more curious than anything else.

“Car trouble?”

“Yep. She just started shaking and died at the lights outside the bakery.”

“I haven’t seen you before. You’re not from around here, are you?” A slight smile plays on his lips.

I shake my head. “No, I just accepted a job here.”

“Oh yeah? Doing what?”

“I’m going to be living with the O’Connor family. I’m a nurse. Emmy Brooks.”

The guy’s smile widens. “Mike Andrews. I know the O’ Connors really well. Good people. Patrick’s my buddy. He never mentioned that someone would be coming to work for them.”

I’ve never heard the name Patrick and shrug. He could be talking about a different O’Connor family—it’s a common enough name. An older man emerges from the same door Mike just came through, interrupting our conversation. He’s shorter, with a creased face and grease stained overalls, and seems to move with a deliberate slowness. He pauses to pat the Golden Retriever, who settles down in a sunny spot to watch.

“This here is my Uncle Jimmy.” Mike jerks his thumb over his shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” I give a small curtsey, smiling sweetly. What the actual fuck am I doing? It’s like I’ve dropped into the set of a movie filled with old-timey charm, and I can’t deny how much I love it.

Jimmy grunts a greeting, breaking the ambiance a little, his eyes already on Betty’s open hood. “What did you bring me this time, Mike? Another city car that’s never seen a dirt road?”

Mike laughs. “Not everyone can handle a pickup like you. Besides, she’s got character, doesn’t she?” He pats the hood affectionately, then winces as Betty’s engine lets out a hiss that sounds like a death rattle.

“Character, huh?” Jimmy scoffs, bending over to peer more closely at the engine. “Looks more like a heart attack waiting to happen.”

“Ah, she just needs a little TLC.” Mike leans in beside Jimmy. “What do you think? The head gasket?”

Jimmy pokes around a bit before straightening up, wiping his hands on a rag. “Head gasket, and let’s hope that’s all. We’ll know more once we open her up. But really, Mike, when are you going to stop rescuing these beat-up old things?”

“When they stop having such charm.” Mike grins at me. “Can’t let a classic die out here.”

“Classic?” Jimmy snorts, but there’s a twinkle in his eye. “If by classic you mean old as dirt .”

Mike laughs, shaking his head. “You know, one of these days, one of these classics is going to turn out to be a diamond. Then you’ll see.”

Jimmy waves him off. “Let’s get her into the shop before she falls apart right here and blocks my driveway.”

Their easy banter continues as they start pushing the car toward the garage. While they busy themselves with the car, I glance at the water visible between the buildings on the other side of the street. Light dances on the surface, birds sing overhead, and the air carries a freshness that fills my lungs. It’s serene, a sharp contrast to the bustling streets of Philadelphia, and despite Betty’s mishap, a sense of peace washes over me.

“So, it looks like it’s going to take at least a few days to fix her up.” Mike’s voice pulls me from my thoughts as he saunters over, Jimmy a few steps behind. “And it’ll cost around one thousand five hundred, parts and labor included.”

I swallow hard. That’s all my savings. The thought of calling my dad for a loan twists my stomach.

Mike seems to notice my hesitation and adds, “Since you’re a local now, we can work out a payment plan. No need to pay it all upfront.”

I’m about to thank him when I glance at my watch. “Damn it. I’m going to be late. I’m supposed to be at Ruby O’Connor’s place at 12 noon.”

Jimmy nods at Mike. “Get a move on then. Take the pretty lady where she needs to be.” He waves a dismissive hand at Betty parked in his garage. “I’ll stay here and attend to this ol’ junk heap.”

I protest, but Mike cuts me off. “No arguments. Come on, it’s less than a five-minute drive. We’ll waste more time arguing about it than it will take for me to actually drive you.”

It’s clear he won’t take no for an answer, and a part of me is too grateful for the help to insist further. I grab two of my suitcases and Mike grabs the third, then I follow him to his pickup truck, climbing into the passenger side after putting my bags in the back. He calls over his shoulder to the Golden Retriever: “Stay, Barks.”

“Barks?”

Mike climbs into the pickup. “Barks because he never makes a sound.”

I laugh. “Makes perfect sense. Thanks for the lift.” I eye the stack of books wedged between the two front seats, several of them dog-eared and clearly well read. A Thousand Splendid Suns catches my eye—a book that tore my soul out and shredded it, and I pick it up, flicking through the pages. “Have you read this?”

“I just finished it. If you like reading, you’ll have to check out Harbor Books back on Main Street. It’s got a great selection of second-hand books and May has a small shelf for new releases.”

“I’ll check it out, thanks.”

“So, have you met Ruby before?”

“We spoke on the phone.”

Mike smirks. “I love her like my own mom. But she’s a character.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see.”