Twice in a Lifetime (15 page)

“You wantin’ to pack it in?” he asked, rolling the hard candy around in his mouth, knocking it against his teeth.

“I’m not saying that, boss,” Jesse replied, aware that he was treading on dangerous ground.

“Go on, then. Explain it to me so I understand.”

“It’s just that we’ve been at this for more than a week now,” the thug explained. “We’re tired. None of us has gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep at a time, usually when we’re parked on the side of the road. It’s been so long since I slept in a bed that I’ve darn near forgotten what it feels like.” Jesse laughed nervously. “Hell, I wish I had, that way I wouldn’t miss it so much.”

Sweet didn’t disagree. All of them looked like hell, their clothes rumpled and stained from their time on the road, their eyes bloodshot from another night of fitful sleep. He missed St. Louis and its never-ending hustle, so completely different from the slow boredom of the country. He wanted nothing more than to sit down for a nice meal, soak in a hot tub of water, sleep with one of his favorite whores, and then doze for days. But that wasn’t in the cards, not until that bastard Barstow was dead and Sweet’s wounded pride restored.

So in answer to Jesse’s complaints, he drew his gun.

“You want to rest so bad,” Sweet said, cocking the pistol’s hammer and leveling the barrel at the middle of Jesse’s chest, “I might be able to help.”

“Now…now, wait a second, boss…” the henchman stammered, all the bravado falling from his face, his hands raised in submission.

Without hesitation, Sweet tugged on the trigger and fired a bullet into the ground just to the side of where Jesse stood, kicking up a cloud of dirt. In the otherwise quiet night, the gunshot was deafeningly loud.

Jesse had been too frightened to make a sound.

“You still want to quit lookin’?” Sweet asked.

Jesse panted, his eyes wider than the moon. “No…no…let’s go…”

For a few seconds longer, Sweet kept the gun right where it was, as if he was still weighing whether or not to kill Jesse where he stood. It was more than just a desire not to show weakness to someone beneath him; he
needed
to catch Amos Barstow, to make him pay for what he’d done. Finally, he uncocked the gun and put it back in his waistband. Jesse’s chest continued to heave, his heart struggling to slow. Sweet noticed that through it all, Malcolm had never moved or said a word, but only watched as he smoked his cigarette.

“We’ll go toward Clarion and then on to Sunset,” Sweet explained. “From either one of those places, they might’ve crossed over the river, so we’ll have to expand our search if we don’t find their trail.”

Malcolm got behind the wheel, flicking his cigarette butt into the dark. Though he’d yet to get his legs underneath him, Jesse managed to stumble into the passenger’s seat. Sweet let them wait.

He looked all around them, at the woods, the sky, down the road in the direction they’d come and then the other way, where they were headed. Somewhere out there, Barstow, McCoy, and his revenge waited.

And I’m going to find them…no matter what…

C
LARA WALKED DOWN
Main Street with a spring in her step. She reveled in the warmth of the early-evening sun against her skin. Greetings were given from shopkeepers shutting up their businesses for the night, hailed down sidewalks and across the street. She marveled at how different one day could be from the next, how something as simple as a kiss could change the way everything looked.

When her day began it had been filled with nervous apprehension. After her run-in with Eddie at the bank, his plans thwarted by Drake’s unexpected arrival, she had dreaded the thought of seeing him again. All the way to work, she wondered what he would say, imagined the withering looks he might give. But then, miraculously, Eddie hadn’t come to the bank; his office door had remained shut, his grating voice unheard. And so, Clara’s fears had lifted like a fog. She laughed with the people who came to her teller window. She went outside to enjoy lunch. She thought about Drake, the ride they’d shared, and how his lips felt against hers.

After the bank closed, Clara wasn’t ready to go home; since it was such a beautiful day, she’d started walking. She hadn’t had a destination in mind, but wasn’t the least bit surprised when she found herself standing across the street from the Sunset Hotel.

So now what?

This was the question Clara had struggled to answer all night and throughout the day. Drake McCoy had enchanted her. Being with him had stoked a fire in her she’d long thought extinguished. He was charming, easy to talk to, and handsome. But despite all of those things, there was a part of Clara that still felt as if she had cheated on Joe, or at the least, his memory. She was full of contradictions: happy yet sad, excited yet nervous, flattered yet ashamed. But as conflicted as Clara was, she still stood outside Drake’s hotel completely unsure of what to do with her hands, taking one step forward, then another back; it was as if he was a magnet and she was made out of metal, unable to resist his pull.

Clara knew that to go inside, to be the one who came looking for him, was bold, almost inappropriate. But she was impatient, unable and unwilling to wait for him to make the next move. She
wanted
to see him again, as soon as possible, to find out where their relationship would go next.

She took a deep breath and crossed the street.

“Now ain’t this a strange turn of events! Usually, I’m the one standin’ on that side of the counter! Almost didn’t recognize you this way!”

Edna Gilbert laughed loudly from behind the front desk. In her middle sixties now, she had founded the hotel with her husband, Leonard, back when Clara had been a little girl. Though Edna had been a widow for going on two decades, she refused to believe that there was a job she couldn’t do; she hauled heavy bags without complaint, fixed broken toilets, washed an endless amount of bedding, and even painted the hotel’s exterior when it needed a new coat. Though Clara had always thought that the way Edna dyed her hair dark black made her look older than she really was, the woman’s personality was undoubtedly young.

“I bet I know why you’re here,” the hotel owner declared.

“You do?” Clara asked with a slight frown.

Edna nodded. “I’d be willin’ to bet every dollar I got deposited in that bank of yours that you’re here to see the fella up in number six,” she explained. “The younger one, of course.”

Clara was taken aback. She’d told no one about Drake except her mother, and even with Christine she had left out most of the important details. As far as she knew, with the notable exception of Eddie, no one in Sunset had seen them together.

Her confusion must have shown. “It ain’t like he’s been gossipin’ or nothin’,” Edna said. “He come down the other day and asked ’bout you. Real innocent and the like. Havin’ stood behind this desk for more years than I care to count, I know how to put two and two together. You showin’ up like this proves that I ain’t barkin’ up the wrong tree.”

Now Clara was definitely embarrassed. Blushing, she looked away.

“If you don’t mind my sayin’,” Edna continued, leaning heavily on the counter, her voice dropping conspiratorially, “that Drake fella is mighty easy on the eyes. Why, I think he looks an awful lot like that Hollywood actor, the one who was in—” But before Edna could say more, the hotel’s phone began to ring. Clearly annoyed, she said, “I’ll be right back,” and went to answer it.

Clara exhaled; she was happy to be alone. She considered using Edna’s preoccupation to go up to Drake’s room, but when she turned around, she discovered Amos coming down the stairs into the small lobby.

The mechanic looked rougher around the edges than when they’d first met; his clothes were a wrinkled mess and several days’ worth of white whiskers covered his cheeks. Clara wondered if he might be sick. When he noticed her, his eyes narrowed a bit, as if he was suspicious of her.

“Evenin’,” Amos said; his voice sounded friendlier than he looked. “I suppose you’re here to see Drake. He’s up in the room.”

“What makes you think I’m here for him?”

“’Cause I can’t think of any other reason you’d be in a dump like this,” Amos replied with a short chuckle. He hazarded a quick glance at Edna, who was still talking animatedly on the phone. Lowering his voice, he added, “This ain’t the sort of place respectable folk visit. Even a crumb bum like me knows that much.”

“It’s not
that
bad,” Clara disagreed.

“Take it from someone who spends plenty of time checkin’ in and outta hotels,” Amos said. “This one ain’t that good.”

Clara couldn’t imagine the life that Amos, as well as Drake, lived. Traveling up and down country roads. Countless miles in their car. Sleeping in whatever moth-infested place had an empty bed for the night. Eating in greasy diners. Everything unfamiliar but strangely the same. It seemed like a hard life, one with few friends and, like Drake had told her, even fewer chances at love.

“I never had a chance to thank you for helping me with my truck the other day,” Clara said, wanting to change the subject.

Amos shrugged. “Weren’t nothin’ to it,” he said. Then his expression soured. “Damn shame to lose that hose, but I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me none, what with the way Drake got all moony-eyed.”

“Excuse me?” Clara blurted, caught off guard.

“Now, don’t go gettin’ all offended,” the mechanic replied. “It ain’t personal. It’s just the way it is. Here the two of you are, actin’ like a couple teenagers, when you both oughta know there ain’t no future in it. In a few days, me and Drake are gonna get back in the Plymouth and head down the road, and ’fore long, ain’t neither one of you is gonna remember the other’s name. That hose I put in your truck is gonna last longer’n your memory a these few days.”

“It’s more than that,” she insisted, her voice trembling.

Amos’s eyes held a hint of pity. “It’s a darn shame you feel that way.”

Clara felt sick. Even as her feelings for Drake McCoy grew, especially after they’d kissed, she’d worried that maybe she was making a mountain out of a molehill. Still, she had clung to hope, believing what her heart was telling her. But hearing Amos speak so dismissively, so bluntly, calling what she had with Drake a meaningless fling, wounded her deeply. She could see that the mechanic was well aware that he’d hurt her; she wondered if he cared. Maybe he was jealous of all the time she was spending with Drake, or annoyed that his friend was distracted by her instead of focused on his racing, or mad about losing the hose. Clara suspected that it was all three.

Amos nodded toward the stairs. “You might as well go on up and enjoy what little time you got left,” he said. “I’m gonna go get some grub.”

With that, he left, letting the hotel door swing shut with a bang.

“What’s bothering you?”

Clara had been waiting for Drake to ask that very question ever since she had knocked on his door. When he’d opened it, a smile had lit up his face; she’d tried to match it, but hers had quickly faltered. He had invited her in, but she had shaken her head and asked if they might take a walk instead. Drake had readily agreed. Taking the stairs, he’d made small talk, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer. When they passed the front desk, Edna had wished them a good night, giving Clara a wink when Drake wasn’t looking. Outside on the sidewalk, when she was still quiet, he’d asked his question.

“Nothing,” she lied, thinking herself a coward. “I’m fine.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” he said. “It doesn’t have anything to do with that fella at the bank, does it?”

“Eddie never showed up. I actually had a nice day.”

“So what changed? Why the long face?”

Your friend just told me that we’re having a fling, something that both of us will forget soon after you leave Sunset forever…

Clara knew she couldn’t say
that
, but she also couldn’t keep what Amos had said locked away. She had to say
something
. She needed answers.

“What…what do I mean to you?” she asked.

“You want to know what my intentions toward you are.”

She nodded.

Drake chuckled. “Your mother asked me the same thing this afternoon.”

Taken aback, Clara managed to say, “You’re kidding…”

“Cross my heart, it’s the truth.”

“I didn’t say a word to her about what happened between us,” she told him, her voice rising, her tone defensive.

“I wasn’t implying otherwise,” Drake said, “but when two people meet, when they start spending time together, doing all the things we have, it’s to be expected that the folks around them, family, friends, and the like, are going to wonder where it’s headed. They’re curious, that’s all.”

“What about you? Don’t you want to know?”

Drake stopped walking and turned to face her. “Of course I do. Neither one of us is a kid anymore. I don’t want to waste time playing games.”

Clara’s heart raced. “We’ve only known each other a couple of days…”

“That’s plenty long to believe that how I feel is real,” Drake said, his tone as strong as his words. “Don’t you agree?”

She nodded. “But you’re leaving soon…”

He held her eyes, his jaw tight, and then looked away. “Thing is, I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, reaching out to grab his forearm, imploring him to tell her the truth.

Drake took a deep breath. “Remember what I told you? That in all the years I’ve spent driving around, running races, I’ve never found someone who was willing to share that life with me?”

Clara nodded; she remembered every word.

“I’ve always expected the women I met to change their lives to match mine, for them to give up what they wanted to be with me out on the road,” Drake explained. “But over the last couple of days, I’ve started to wonder if I haven’t spent years looking at it the wrong way. Maybe the problem is me.”

She remained silent, letting him talk.

He took her hand. “All I’ve ever done is move,” he told her. “Ever since I left my father’s farm, I haven’t stayed in one place for long. Racing in some lonely little town one day, another the next. I’ve never put down roots. Instead, I’ve wandered, trying to convince myself that the grass is always greener somewhere else. I just kept driving, the faster the better.

“But then I came here. I met you and everything I thought I knew was turned upside down. I finally found someone who was funny, smart, and beautiful, all the things I’ve spent my whole life looking for. But for us to be together, something is going to have to change.” Drake paused, the silence lingering. “So what if I gave up racing, settled down, and opened that garage I’ve always dreamed about? Ten years ago, I would never have considered it, but now…”

Clara couldn’t believe what he was saying. For Drake to express his feelings for her, to say words she hadn’t heard a man utter for almost a decade, was strange, unfamiliar, yet welcome. That he was echoing some of the same thoughts she wrestled with, acknowledging that something special was growing between them, and that he, too, wanted to find out where it all led, was comforting. She knew things between them were moving fast, but she didn’t want to stop. Still, what he was suggesting also made her feel guilty.

“I could never ask you to give up racing,” she said.

“You’re not,” he replied. “I’m making this choice on my own. All that matters is that when I walk away, you’ll be there.”

She searched his eyes, looking for some sign that he wasn’t serious, that this was a joke or some game he was playing, but his gaze never wavered. “I can’t believe I’ve made you feel this way.”

Drake smiled. “Your son helped, too.”

“Tommy? What does he have to do with this?”

“I met him this afternoon, and to say that things didn’t go the way I’d hoped would be one heck of an understatement.” Drake told her about what had happened, how he’d finally gotten Tommy to open up a little, had even talked him into helping fix the garage door, but then things had quickly soured, all because he’d asked about a certain young woman.

Clara frowned. “Naomi.”

“The way he reacted, seems like that girl has dug her claws in awful deep.”

“To the bone, it seems,” she said, shaking her head. “But I still don’t understand what Tommy has to do with you wanting to give up racing.”

“There I was at your house,” he explained. “Your mother introduced herself with a knife in her hand. Your son stomped away from me as mad as a hornet. Crazy as it might seem, it made me realize all that I’ve been missing.”

“My mother had a knife?” Clara asked, dazed.

Drake laughed. “It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that at that moment I saw things clearly. I’ve never known what it’s like to have a family, to come home to the same house every day, to try to build something that matters.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “And before you start thinking that this is because I’m lonely or that I’m afraid I won’t find someone, nothing could be further from the truth.” He leaned closer. “The reason is that I finally met someone worth stopping for. Somehow, when I least expected it, I found you.”