He shook his head. "What are you asking me? In fact, why do youcare?"
I jerked back. "Why do Icare?"
"Yes! You barely gave me the time of day any time you walked into my nursery. You barely even looked atme!"
I blinked at him. "You didn't givemethe time of day!" It was the best comeback I could think of through my fuzzythoughts.
"I always tried to talk toyou!"
My mouth worked like a fish out of water. "Are you kidding me? Telling me I can't pick out my own damn plants is not a conversation maker! And I don't look at anyone in this town because everyone hates me!" I gasped as soon as I saidit.
Hank slowed down and took a turn off onto a side road. There were no street lamps. No houses, no stores. Just us and the dash lights. He put it intopark.
"Explain," he grittedout.
I leaned my head back against the seat. "No."
Hank turned off the vehicle. The only sound was the ticking of the engine and our breath. "Explain why you think people hateyou."
"I'd rather talk about why you'regrumpy."
"I'll tell you why I'm grumpy if you tell me why you think people hateyou."
I looked at him sideways. "Really?"
"Cross myheart."
"They hate me because they're scared ofme."
Silence fell in the cab of thetruck.
"I find that a little hard to believe," Hank said. "Have you seen yourself? You're like a hundred pounds soaking wet and you have the face of a pissed offangel."
A smile pulled at the side of my mouth. "It's my power. Death scarespeople."
Hank rested his hands on the steering wheel. "Death is terrifying. But it's also natural. And it's something we work toward every day. Most of us anyway. Do you really feel like that,Helen?"
I nodded. "People cross the street trying to get away from me. They whisper about me behind my back." I sighed. "When I was a child they used to tease me about wanting to be friends with deadthings."
Hank let out a softbreath.
"The truth is," I said, "the dead are easier to talk to. Easier to relate to. There's nothing they have to strive for anymore. Their burdens are cast aside. Their work is done. We spend so much of our lives working toward some unattainable goal that we forget to live." I rubbed my eyes and let out an embarrassed laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm a little bittoasted."
"More like quite hammered," Hank said. "But isn't that when our truths comeout?"
"Tell me why you're so grumpy," I said, changing thesubject.
"I'm not reallygrumpy."
I punched him on the arm. "You are. You're like that guy that screams at everyone to get off hislawn."
"I find people to be disappointing," he admitted after a longsilence.
"Why?"
"They don't keep their promises. They cheat and lie and look the other way when people are hurting. Sometimes I find the world of the living to be a difficult place tolive."
"That's...sad."
