Forty minutes later, on a dirt road in the summer Kansas heat, River sighed in relief when the edge of town finally came into view. Sweat rolled down her neck and tickled as it trickled down her back. She had thanked the Lord some twenty minutes ago that she had worn her boots to the farm, despite the heat. A forty minute walk to town on the dirt road in flip flops might have been her undoing.

The sky had turned grey over the last ten minutes or so, looking ominous. She had picked up the pace. As she neared, the weathered old wooden sign squeaked loudly as it swung violently with a gust of wind. Painted white with red letters that read 'Wixon's Oasis', it hung from what was debatably the original rusty chain that Amanda's Great Grandfather had attached to the post some sixty years ago. The first, or last building inside city limits on this side of town, it really was like an oasis, out here on the dirt road, nothing but golden flowing wheat fields surrounding for miles. Westacre proper was still a couple of miles ahead. But with any luck, someone would be at the Oasis, even though it was 2:30 on a Sunday afternoon.

She walked up to the front door and tried the handle. Locked. Her shoulders fell and she looked around the empty lot. A loud metallic clang echoed out into the silence and she jumped, clutching her chest reflexively, then rolled her eyes, annoyed with herself. She rounded to the garage, and was pleased to see a bay door open with a car up a couple of feet on a lift.

"Hello?" she called out but there was no answer. Stepping inside, she moved to the front of the vehicle and saw a pair of legs sticking out from underneath it. "Excuse me?" The owner of the legs, clad in jeans smeared with whatever it was mechanics smear on their jeans, remained silent under the vehicle. Raindrops had started to dampen the pavement outside and the wheat in the adjacent field whipped violently back and forth.

Worn wheels of the cart the mechanic lay on clattered loudly across the rough cement floor as he slid into view. She looked down just in time to see Jackson's face appear, earbuds tucked firmly inside his ears.

"Jesus!" he jerked, surprised, and bashed his head right into the undercarriage of the car, groaning and covering his forehead with one hand, squinting at her through pained eyes. "River? What are you doing here?" He sat up. Yanking the earbuds from his ears he removed his hand, revealing a three inch bloody gash across his forehead.

"Oh my, God!" she gasped and moved forward instinctively. "Are you alright? I'm so sorry." She crouched next to him, hand on his shoulder, looking around hurriedly for something clean to cover it with.

He smiled strangely at her. "I'm fine. I've had worse." He leaned forward to stand, wavered, and fell back onto his seat. "Okay, maybe I'm not fine."

Unwrapping her shirt she'd tied around her waist, she walked to sink at the end of the long workbench, turned on the cool water and let it trickle onto the fabric. She glanced down the length of the dusty old workbench. Everything was the same, but different.

Turning off the tap, she returned to Jackson and knelt in front of him, wiped away the excess blood that had trailed down the side of his face, then dabbed at the cut. He didn't waver even though it looked painful. Most likely would need stitches. Maybe if she'd finished nursing school she'd know for sure. She put pressure on the cut, other hand cradling the back of his head. His eyes met hers and she got caught up for a moment, then trained her gaze back on what she was doing.

A gust of wind whipped through the bay and thunder clapped loudly.

"We'd better get goin' while the gettin's still good," he said, placing a hand over hers to take the shirt from her, sending a tingle up her arm. "Help me up?"

She nodded and stood, reaching down to his outstretched hands and pulling him to his feet. "It came on quick. Looks like it's gonna be a nasty one." She almost let her hand rest on the small of his back, then thought better of it, but kept a hand hovering cautiously behind him as they walked to the door. It had grown dark; the kind of calm darkness during day that only meant the worst was yet to come. Lightning flashed across the sky, thunder booming almost simultaneously. Clouds hung low and threatened to spill out onto the ground.

"Where's your car?" they both asked at the same time and then looked at each other.

"My car broke down on the way back from the farm. I left my phone at home so I had to walk," she explained. A tornado siren wailed in the distance and Jackson hung his head.

"I got a ride out to the farm with your Dad this morning. He dropped me off here." Loud thuds echoed against the metal roof of the garage as hail the size of golf balls started to rain down from the sky and blanket the ground. They both backed away into the bay and he lowered the door. "Looks like we'd better hunker down here until it passes."