Chapter 13Much to Emma’s surprise, Barbara drives a pick-up truck, a 1965 red Ford F-100. When Emma saw it in the mostly empty St. Stephen’s lot on Monday morning, she’d assumed the truck belonged to a janitor, or else that it had been abandoned by someone who figured the church secretary wouldn’t call a tow truck to have it hauled away.
“It’s my husband’s old truck,” Barbara explains as she jiggles the passenger door handle. “Ah! Here we go! Doesn’t always want to open. Ty bought it for four hundred dollars from his dad and drove it until he finally got a new one last September. But he couldn’t bear to sell old Sally here, so now she’s mine. I think people relate to a truck better than they did to my Saab.”
Emma climbs into the front seat. The air inside the truck is rich with the smell
