California Girl (26 page)

Miraculously, it only took his understanding to raise her
spirits. She wasn’t alone. Lucia had family she could go to. Elliot would go on
with his life. She could live for today.

Crossing her legs in the seat and laying her palms face-out
on her knees, Alys closed her eyes and basked in his positive vibrations.

Maybe positive energy could make Elliot well again.

Could positive energy drive away mysterious purple semis?

The wide-open spaces felt less inviting as they drove the
conspicuous Cadillac through the town’s broad streets back to the interstate.
Alys swiveled her head back and forth, searching for any sign of a purple
truck, but there was barely any evidence of human existence. Maybe people
didn’t drive in the rain out here.

Elliot roared down the ramp into traffic and continued west.
Alys couldn’t find a radio station playing music. Restlessly, she crossed her
legs in the seat, then straightened them out again so she could turn around and
check on Lucia and look out the back window.

“Purple to starboard,” she murmured, attempting to sound
nonchalant so as not to alarm Lucia.

“Yeah, I see it.” The scar beside Elliot’s mouth turned
upside down as he tightened his lips and checked the rearview mirror.

“Do you think it’s the same one?” Alys asked, picking up the
map again.

“I’d have to see the trailer. Maybe it’s just coincidence.
Is there another exit we can take?”

“There’s absolutely nothing out here. How far have we gone,
do you know?” She studied the huge blank spaces between roads on the map.

“We’ve been driving fifteen minutes or so. Check for mile
markers on the side of the road, then look at the exit numbers on the map. That
will tell you how far away we are.”

The purple cab pulling an unmarked trailer roared past, and
they both breathed easier. It wasn’t the same one. Coincidence. Still, Alys
studied the side of the road for mile markers, just in case.

“Maybe some driver took a fancy to you back in Amarillo,”
Elliot joked, but it fell flat even as he said it.

“It’s not as if there are a lot of other roads for them to
drive. We’re probably all going in the same direction,” Alys offered her
explanation. “We could meet up with the Harley club at Santa Rosa. That’s the
next Route 66 turnoff.”

Elliot continued to check the rearview mirror, but his hands
didn’t grip the wheel as tightly. “We’ll take the southern route anyway. If
it’s a good road, it will be a nice change from the interstate.”

“The northern route goes to Santa Fe,” Alys said wistfully.
“That’s where we were supposed to spend the night.”

“Maybe later, after we deliver Lucia. We’ll make a few
calls, see if Mame has shown up anywhere.”

She should be delighted they were almost at the end of their
journey. She’d intended to leave Elliot behind, travel on her own—by bus, if
necessary.

But the realization that they only had a few more hours
together didn’t raise her spirits.

Elliot muttered what distinctly sounded like an
inappropriate curse. Startled, Alys checked the windshield. A semi was slowing
down in front of them, but she couldn’t see the color of the cab.

She looked over her shoulder. A semi with a purple cab was
right on their bumper. She could practically stare into the driver’s face. She
didn’t recognize him, but her heart thumped in terror. “He’s too close. That’s
dangerous,” she whispered.

“They’re trying to force us to the side of the road.”

“Why?” she asked, but there wasn’t time to think about it.

She checked the mile marker, double-checked the exit number,
and did a quick calculation. “Two miles to the next exit. But it doesn’t look
like much of a town.”

The semi behind them pulled into the passing lane, came
abreast, and stayed there. The rig in front of them slowed down even more.
Traffic began to build behind them.

“This makes absolutely no sense,” Alys whispered. “Maybe we
should see what they want.”

“Not if last night was any indication.” Elliot took his foot
off the gas to fall farther behind, then cursed again.

“We don’t know that it was truckers last night,” she argued.
Glancing over her shoulder, she knew her argument was wasted. A third semi had
come up behind, boxing them in.

Her thoughts jumped to the memory of the photo of the back
end of a semi in Lucia’s camera. How many children took pictures of trucks?

Highway signs indicating the next exit rose into view. The
semi on their left began easing over as if they didn’t exist, forcing Elliot toward
the shoulder. The semi in front moved up to block them from escaping down the
ramp.

Rain slammed the windshield, fogging the interior with the
moisture from the leaking window. The truck tires threw up rivers, almost
blinding them.

“All right, I can do this.” Whistling a tune that suspiciously
sounded like “Whistle While You Work,” Elliot hit the brake, swerved Beulah to
the side of the road, and began backing down the shoulder.

Even at forty miles an hour, a semi couldn’t stop and
reverse that quickly. The remaining two trucks roared past and up the exit
ramp. The lines of traffic behind them flew past, rocking the Caddy in their
wind.

Amazed, shaken, Alys merely stared at Elliot as if the top
of his head had just blown off. Still whistling, checking the rearview mirror,
he found an opening in the traffic and pulled out.

“How far is the next exit?” he asked, easing into the
passing lane and flying past the exit the trucks had taken.

“Maybe thirty miles. There’s a rest stop.” She needed a rest
stop. If she hadn’t wet her pants by now, she would by then. She checked the
entrance ramp and watched a purple semi idling there. Could he see them in the
rain?

“Good.” Dodging in front of a cattle truck so he couldn’t be
seen, Elliot abruptly steered off the interstate on the left in a patently illegal
maneuver. He held tight to the steering wheel as he drove Beulah over the rough
divider between the parallel east and west lanes. Halting, he waited for an
opening on the other side, and slipped into eastbound traffic, still whistling.

Alys had closed her eyes somewhere along the way. When no
crash resulted, she peeked between her lashes. Not even a police car roared out
of the rain to arrest them for the U-turn.

“Next time, I’m driving,” she muttered.

Elliot laughed. Laughed! She wanted to smack him with
something, but she was shaking too hard.

“If the semis were waiting for us, they’ll have a long wait,
especially if they decide to continue west looking for us.” Adjusting his seat,
he flipped on the radio and found a country station. “You want to see Santa Fe,
we’ll see Santa Fe.”

Alys checked on Lucia. Apparently oblivious to the drama
playing around her, she’d fallen asleep holding her doll, with Purple on her
lap.

“It’s Lucia, isn’t it?”

“If so, for once, Mame knew what she was doing,” Elliot
admitted. “If someone is after her, I can handle it better than Mame.”

“I think you lived with Mame too long.” Surely he wasn’t
enjoying this?

Elliot chuckled. “It does give one a warped perspective.
I’ll trust Mame over dangerous truckers who force innocent people off the road.
So we’ll go to Albuquerque the long way around. Maybe rogue truckers only
patrol the interstate.”

Leaning her head back against the seat, Alys tried to
believe that all was well. Except now she knew she was riding with a lunatic—a
gorgeous, sexy, dangerous lunatic. Elliot seemed to be thriving on adventure,
while she just wanted to survive.

No,
she wanted to
live
. She’d been just surviving
for far too long. And living is what Elliot was doing right now. She’d have to
study the holes in her theory some other time. First, she had to make her heart
start beating again.

“The first lighting at the Balloon Fiesta is Friday night.
That’s tomorrow, right? I’m losing track.” She breathed deeply, saw no purple
cabs, and decided to admire Elliot’s profile instead of the scenery. He seemed
serene. He wasn’t even reaching for the Tums.

“Sounds good to me. I assume that means you and Mame
intended to stay in Santa Fe tonight and check in at your Albuquerque hotel on
Friday in time to get to the balloon park. So chances are Mame is sightseeing
in Santa Fe as we speak,” Elliot replied with confidence.

“Exactly.” The way he said it returned the world to normal.
Finally relaxing, Alys studied the words pouring from the radio so she could
sing along the next time she heard the song. She could still find some way of
traveling to Los Angeles later. Right now, she was heading for the historic
town of Santa Fe with a gorgeous man at her side.

They took the exit at Tucumcari and traveled a nearly empty
state road toward the mountains without a semi in sight, but the rain turned to
sharp pellets of ice by the time they’d passed Conchas State Park.

“This is New Mexico,” Alys declared in astonishment, staring
out the windshield at the desert landscape. “Why is it snowing? I was thinking
heat and cactus.”

They’d just passed a cluster of trailers and houses near the
park, but beyond that sign of civilization, they seemed to be the only people
out here. Only one or two cars passed going the other way—perhaps for good
reason.

“The elevation has been climbing since we crossed the
border. We’re headed into the mountains.” Elliot focused on a road nearly
obscured by the sudden blustery weather. He would prefer offering Alys a
snowball fight to driving through this if the stuff accumulated, but he was too
busy cursing himself for not driving straight back to Amarillo and turning
Lucia into the police. “Maybe we ought to turn back and see if the park is
open.”

“It’s not that bad yet.” She checked over her shoulder but
Lucia was playing quietly. “Let’s see if it won’t let up. It’s only October. It
will probably melt right off in a little while.”

He
was listening to a woman who had never left the state of Missouri, who probably
thought this was an
adventure
. Maybe he ought to have his
head examined instead of his heart.

But if they turned back, they could meet head-on any trucker
who might have turned back in search of them. The road was too lonely for that
scenario. He preferred hoping for the best and staying the course.

Alys unfolded the map to check their location after passing
a road sign. “We’re not even halfway to Las Vegas.”

Elliot hoped that was in New Mexico. Although, if they were
headed for Nevada, the back end of Beulah wouldn’t be sliding on icy patches.
“What could we have done yesterday to tick off semi drivers?” he asked, still
struggling with the mystery of the trucks.

She shrugged. “The only truck drivers I remember from
yesterday were at the hotel and truck stop, but they weren’t doing anything
interesting.”

“Maybe it was just coincidence. Maybe some drunks saw you
walking by yourself and thought you were alone last night, and that’s why they
broke in.”

“Right, and there’s no connection to purple semis?”

“Exactly.” He liked that theory. Unfortunately, it didn’t
make much sense.

Of course, if the world made sense, he shouldn’t be alive
and feeling healthier than he had in a long time. They must have pumped him
full of drugs.

“I saw you kick one of the jerks,” he said, figuring to add
a positive note. “He’ll be fortunate to father children. You didn’t learn that
in karate.”

She clasped her hands in her lap—not a positive sign, he was
learning.

“I’ve spent the last year taking classes. Self-defense was
one of them. You were doing pretty well on your own, but I was afraid there might
be more of them outside.” She glanced sideways at him through the shield of her
hair. “I never took you for a brawler.”

He couldn’t read her tone. Had he frightened her? He’d come
close to frightening himself, but just thinking of those thugs harming her or
Lucia raised his hackles all over again. “In pursuit of moderate exercise, I’ve
tried wrestling and boxing. It’s been a while.”

“How are you feeling?”

This time, he heard the nervousness behind her words. “I
promise not to lie to you, all right? I feel fine—angry, confused, and hungry,
at the moment, but otherwise fine. Maybe last night was just some minor
malfunction from a blood pressure spike.”

That was hogwash, but she seemed to accept it. Elliot was
glad she hadn’t studied heart medicine along with everything else she’d taken
this last year. He had no explanation of why he’d survived last night. He just
knew that since he had, he wanted to celebrate whatever might be left of his
life.

Mame was over sixty, so it followed that if he could avoid
homicidal truckers, he might live that long. He still had time for a life. He
just didn’t think Alys would want to be the one to share it—rightfully so.

“Santa Fe is a fun place to visit. Maybe we should stay
there for the night, wait for the weather to clear.” He’d spent his entire life
running against time. This morning he’d vowed to slow down and enjoy what he’d
been given while he could. Why not start now?

Alys unclasped her hands, reaching out as if to catch
snowflakes through the windows. Light played off the silver beads dancing from
her bracelets, and he relaxed. He’d done the right thing by suggesting Santa
Fe. She was unfurling again, radiating sunshine, coloring his dull gray world.

“I’ve never seen mountains,” she replied in a voice filled
with wonder. “Mame and I were planning on spending several days up here after
the fiesta, with maybe a side trip to Taos. I’d love to stay for the night.” She
threw him an apprehensive gaze. “If you’re feeling well. If you think whoever
is waiting for Lucia won’t mind. If you think Mame is all right.”

Mame
. He had to let go of his need
to take charge of the world around him if he wanted to enjoy each minute as it
happened. Alys had been right all along. Mame was an adult capable of making
her own decisions. She had the right to choose her own life. As he did.