Chance of a Lifetime (24 page)

S
ATURDAY AFTERNOON
B
LUE
M
OON
D
INER

T
HE AFTERNOON SUN AGAINST THE FRONT WINDOWS
warmed them as they sat in the deserted diner eating lunch. Rick had complained of being hungry since noon, but Trace wanted to miss the crowds. She’d had enough of them Thursday night at the bar. He’d teased her about wanting him all to herself, but the fewer people around, the safer he was.

“Now tell me one more time why that old couple, the Peterses, want a divorce?” Trace asked as she tried to hold the biggest hamburger she’d ever ordered in her hands.

Rick laughed. “First, you’ve got to realize there are two reasons why people want divorces. There’s the one they tell everyone, and then there’s the real one. As far as divorces go, it’s rarely what it seems.”

Trace put down her hamburger. “And you know this, O wise one, how?”

“Observation. As a lawyer, I’ve trained myself to study people until I can read what they are not saying as well as analyze what they say.”

“You are so full of it, Matheson.”

“Do you want to hear the real reason or not?”

“All right. Why is a couple married over forty years divorcing?”

He winked at her. “He says it’s because she spends all their money on the grandkids and she says it’s because he never wants to go anywhere, but in truth, the real reason is the opposite reason as to why they got married.”

Trace frowned and took a bite of her hamburger.

“Stay with me on this, Marshal. They married because he wanted sex and she wouldn’t without the ring. Now they’re divorcing because she wants it and he doesn’t, and apparently he thinks he’s paid enough for the services he got in bed.”

“You’re nuts.”

“No, it’s the truth, I swear. Men from twenty on are rushing downhill. Women, on the other hand, are moving up. If couples are very lucky, they meet with equal drives somewhere close to thirty. You might want to note that, since the matching age for you and me seems to be about where we are right now.” He used his napkin to wipe mustard off the corner of her mouth.

Trace swatted him away. “So, Matheson, is this some pathetic way of telling me that I should sleep with you before your shelf-life is expired?”

“Something like that.” He smiled until his dimple showed. “Is it working?”

“No. But I have wondered what that hot body of yours looks like when it’s not bandaged. Of course, at the rate you’re going, I may never find out.”

“The way I see it is whoever wanted me dead is long gone or given up. The dart stabbing was just misfortune. Some drunk probably realized what he did and disappeared.” He shrugged. “Though I like the attention, I’m not worth a federal marshal following me, and I’ve probably caused
enough excitement around town. This is one of those things that will die down fast and become another one of George Hatcher’s ghost stories to entertain tourists.”

“You get tourists here?” Trace wasn’t buying into his theory.

“Well, no. We mostly get visiting relatives of residents. The closest we ever get to having a tourist season is when there’s a big funeral and out-of-town relatives fill the hotels for a few days.”

Trace played with one of her French fries. “You make this town sound really boring.”

“Not at all. Harmony’s a great place. We just keep it a secret from outsiders. I’d tell you all about the wonders of Harmony, but then I’d have to marry you to keep you here. I’d have to have sex with you until I gave out and you divorced me so you could find someone younger.” He leaned close and whispered, “You going to eat the rest of that hamburger?”

“I’m saving myself for pie.” She watched him steal her food. “So what is the reason our white-haired couple
said
they are getting a divorce again? Surely the grandkids can’t be splitting them up.”

“I shouldn’t be telling you anything.”

“It’s part of an investigation.” She bribed him by moving her plate to the middle of the table so he could share her fries. “Besides, you already said they were just talking to you. No case, right?”

“Not so far. Right now they both seem happy to pay me a hundred and fifty just to referee.” Rick took the bribe and pulled her plate toward him. “He claims he’s wasted years living with her controlling ways. If he answers the phone, she has to know who it is. If he draws out ten dollars in cash, she has to have an accounting of what he spends it on. He claims if he flushes twice, she’s knocking on the bathroom door wanting to know what’s wrong.”

“Why does she hate him?”

Rick finished chewing and finally answered. “She said he keeps calling her by the wrong name and she’s had enough.
Her name is Minnie and he’s called her Wanda since they married. He claims it fits her.”

“So they are getting a divorce over that?”

“No.” Rick reached toward Trace’s drink and she slapped his hand. He sat back, defeated. They hadn’t seen the waitress since she brought the food. Refills were too much bother with only two customers in the place. “I told them what it cost. They both agreed it was too much money.”

“What happened then?”

“Nothing. They just stood up, thanked me. He took her hand and said, ‘Come on, Wanda, let’s go home.’ When they were in the hall, I heard her tell him to stop by the Dollar Store so she could bring the kids back a surprise from town.”

Trace couldn’t keep a straight face. She laughed, a giggle at first and then a full, all-out body-shaking laugh.

Rick smiled, obviously loving watching her relax.

She was still laughing when Rick heard a car engine. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something blue racing toward them.

On instinct, he moved to block. One arm flew across the table and circled Trace’s waist as he ran away from the window.

They were almost to the counter when a car hit the six-inch concrete block in the handicapped parking spot and was airborne when it slammed into the window and across the table where they’d been eating.

Rick just watched wood splinter, but Trace pulled her weapon from her boot and ran toward the driver’s side of the car. Before the dirt and smoke cleared, she was pulling on the door and yelling orders.

Rick leaned against the counter, watching and trying to make sense of a car parked inside the diner.

The now-familiar roar of the fire alarm sounded from a few blocks away. People outside were running toward them. Cass stormed from the kitchen, cussing.

Rick watched it all as if it were the remains of a stunt in
a movie. This time his heart wasn’t racing. This time he didn’t feel terrified that he was almost killed.

He closed his eyes. Was it possible that calamity had become the norm in his life?

“The car’s empty!” Trace yelled as Alex and her deputies stormed through the door as if it hadn’t occurred to them to enter through the ten-foot hole in the wall.

“Are you two all right?” Alex demanded.

Trace nodded.

Rick felt like he’d lost his script in this drama that had become his life. He just stared at the old blue Audi parked where his lunch had been a few minutes ago. Steam was coming from under the car’s hood, and glass still tinkled down from above where pieces of window clung to the molding.

Alex stepped closer. “First, Rick, are you hurt again?”

“No,” he said without looking at the sheriff. “I’m fine.”

The deputy yelled that the accelerator had been tied down.

Trace walked away from the wreck. She looked straight at Alex. “Forget the others. This was attempted murder, Sheriff.”

Rick had a feeling there would be no more talk of accidents that he’d just been unlucky enough to fall into. He watched as Trace leaned down and slid her Glock into the side of her boot. Their table had become a crime scene, and if he hadn’t moved quickly, his body would now be beneath the rubble.

Cass was still cussing, but no one was listening. Alex was on the phone, listing all the help she wanted. Deputies were roping off the area with tape.

Rick waited. He wasn’t even sure for what. He just waited.

N
ORTHWEST
T
EXAS
H
OSPITAL
A
MARILLO

T
ANNON PACED THE WAITING ROOM OF
ICU. H
E’D ASKED
himself a dozen times if this latest crisis with his mother had somehow driven him to push Emily into more than she wanted with him. Until a few weeks ago, he’d been happy just checking on his mother a couple times a month. As long as he knew she was all right, the world seemed in balance no matter what was happening at work or with his ever-demanding mother.

He wasn’t sure why he’d asked her the favor of checking on his mother, but somehow that first visit had changed everything. He’d had a lifetime habit of closing himself off from people. She’d been the only one he’d really ever let in, and when she disappeared from his life, he’d nailed the door shut. He had friends he played cards with. Business colleagues. But no one he let close. No one he was completely honest with.

Every time the waiting room doors opened, Tannon glanced up, even knowing that it was too early for Emily to arrive. She’d probably have to call someone to cover for her at the library, maybe have to go in and open up like she did every morning. He tried to remember Emily’s exact words:
I’ll be there before noon.

After the ten o’clock visit to his mother’s side, Tannon calmed. Emily would be with him before the next visit. She’d spent yesterday measuring out the day two hours at a time. He could wait. He almost laughed aloud. Everyone who worked for him, from the truck drivers to his staff, would be shocked if they knew how much he needed the little librarian. He was a man who needed nothing.

He paced, watched the weather on TV, tried to read, stared at the clock.

At five minutes to twelve, the nurse stepped out to tell family that they would have ten minutes of visitation.

Tannon walked to the door and waited his turn to pass through. Two guests to a room were all that was allowed.

Just as he walked past the nurse, he felt a cold hand slip into his.

He didn’t turn around. He knew Emily had made it. As they walked to his mother’s room, he held her fingers tightly, knowing now that no matter what happened he could handle it.

“You’re freezing,” he said.

“It’s cold out and I had to park a mile away.”

He finally looked at her. Emily was wrapped in a puffy coat that went past her knees. She looked more like she belonged in the North Pole than in West Texas. “Where are your gloves?”

“I couldn’t find them. How is your mother?”

“The same.” He reminded himself that she was here to see Paulette, not be questioned by him. “This is her room.”

They walked through the open sliding glass door into a room where machines surrounded his frail mother. Emily wrapped her other hand around his arm and moved closer. He could feel her against him but he remained stone.

A nurse looked up from a chart. “The doctor will be in soon, Mr. Parker.”

“Any change?” Tannon barely recognized his own voice.

The nurse shook her head.

Emily moved to the far side of the bed. She rubbed her hands together before she took Paulette’s hand. She talked softly as if believing his mother could hear her.

The doctor came in to say that he was hopeful and that the next few hours would be very important. Tannon had heard it all before. Logic told him that this wouldn’t go on forever, nothing did, but part of him believed that this time in his life would never end. This—taking care of family, putting his life on hold for them and the company—seemed all he’d ever known, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, turn away from his responsibility.

His mother didn’t wake up, didn’t make a move. He got through the visit by watching Emily. He’d always thought there was something frail about her. Maybe it was her slender frame or maybe her big eyes. But it was more than that. She had a way about her that seemed to calm his world like a gentle rain on a warm night.

When they went back to the waiting room, he thanked Emily for coming to be with his mother. He knew his words were cold and formal but he didn’t know how to say more.

To his surprise, she shook her head. “No, Tannon, I came to be with you. Your mother’s got a staff of doctors and nurses to watch over her. I came to be with you.”

He bent and kissed her then, no longer caring who might be watching. The kiss was soft and tender, but when it ended the hug continued. For a long time, he just held her against him.

When she finally pulled away, she said, “I’m starving. We’ve got over an hour to find something to eat.”

He wasn’t hungry, but he put his arm around her shoulder and they walked to the cafeteria. While they ate, he begged her to tell him every detail of the writers’ meeting
one more time. When she couldn’t remember every line of Peter’s poem, he complained and she threatened to make him join.

They walked back for the short two o’clock visit, then took a nap cuddled beneath her big coat until the four o’clock visit.

As the day aged, they talked in the corner of the waiting room. He told her about his business and she told him of her days in college. They avoided talking about the time when she’d left high school after “the accident” and the car wreck that had killed her parents. No mention of the month she’d been in the hospital, after which she’d gone home to recover and to be homeschooled. She’d missed the spring trip, the prom, and graduation because as soon as she could leave Harmony she’d moved into a dorm and started college a semester early.