Twice in a Lifetime (21 page)

And then she kissed him.

Damn…this is gonna be fun…

Naomi lounged against the car and watched the man make his way across Lou Torkelson’s empty lot. She hadn’t paid him much attention when he’d entered the bar, but when her father said that he was asking about Tommy, everything changed. This was the man Tommy had told her about, the one spending time with his mother, the race car driver. Drake McCoy.

It had been simple for Naomi to proposition Chet Miller, a roughneck farmer who spent so much time in the bar that it sometimes felt as if he lived there. He wanted her, just like half the other men in the bar, so he was keen to do whatever she asked; having a go at McCoy was the same as buying her a drink. Naomi wanted to be entertained. So when Chet walked over and began causing a ruckus, she leaned back against the bar, smiled, and waited for the fun to begin.

But then, shockingly, the race car driver had come out on top and, for the second time in a matter of minutes, everything changed.

When McCoy left the bar, Naomi had slipped out the side door and followed. She stayed a safe distance behind him, trying to keep from being noticed, at least until she wanted to be seen. She licked her lips, adjusted her bra, and wished that she’d squirted herself with perfume. But then, just as she was about to reveal herself, McCoy had hurried across the empty lot. He’d shouted something, but Naomi hadn’t been able to make it out. Unexpectedly alone, she decided to lean against his car and wait for him to return.

While she waited, Naomi thought about what she’d do with the race car driver. Since beast had failed, it was time for beauty. She wondered how long it had been since McCoy had touched a young woman like her; probably longer than he wanted. No man resisted her for long. Eventually, he would break, bending over backward to please her. Then, once she was finished having her fun, she’d spread every last salacious detail around town. She’d already ensnared Clara Sinclair’s son; she wondered how the old widow would feel if she claimed her new man, too. The possibility of such chaos was too delicious for her to ignore.

Just then, she noticed McCoy walking back toward her. She smiled, flashing him a look that had won her plenty of men.

“Decide to go for a walk?” she asked with a voice like spun honey.

I
’
VE MET SOMEONE
…”

Clara knelt on the grass that grew above her husband’s body, resting a hand on his tombstone. The sun fell steadily, causing shadows to reach across the ground toward her. A breeze rustled the trees. But as idyllic as it was, Clara’s thoughts were in turmoil. Her mouth had gone dry and her heart raced. She felt like she was speaking to Joe face-to-face, revealing something shameful, as if she had done something wrong.

“His name is Drake McCoy…and he…he…”

She sputtered to a stop, not because she was embarrassed, but rather because she didn’t know where to start. How could she possibly describe Drake, what he meant to her, or how he made her feel? Should she talk about how they’d met? What words would explain the indescribable feeling of racing down the hill in the Plymouth, her head sticking out the window? What about when she’d kissed Drake for the first time? Then there was the way he’d rushed into the house they both feared was on fire, willing to risk his life to protect her family.

Could she say these things to Joe?

In the end, Clara knew she had to. So she took a deep breath and began. “I was driving back to the bank one afternoon when the truck broke down…”

The more she talked, always being honest, choosing not to leave anything out, the easier it became. Clara felt no shame for the things she’d done with Drake. The opposite was true; speaking of him, of their time together, talking about the qualities that attracted her to him, made her happy.

“Ever since you died, my life has been so hard,” she continued. “The house…my mother’s health, the bank…and especially Tommy…Nothing has gone the way I hoped it would. Every year I come here to remember the anniversary of your death so that I can unburden myself. But no matter what I say, nothing ever gets any better.

“For nine years, I’ve been so utterly alone. When those men came to the house and told me that you’d been killed, right then and there, I gave up. I swore to myself that there would never be another man, that I would be a widow and that would be that. But I was a fool. I had no idea what lay ahead of me. But then, Drake came along and everything I thought I knew got turned upside down.”

Clara told Joe about how the race car driver made her feel, about his smile, the sound of his laugh, even the strong, confident way he drove his car. The more she thought about it, the more Clara realized that the two men had much in common; both were strong, proud, and willing to put a stranger’s needs ahead of their own. She imagined that had all of their lives been different, Drake and Joe might very well have been friends.

“Drake makes me happy. You don’t need to worry about me…”

With those words, Clara began to cry. She supposed that, in a way, one door was opening, while another was being shut.

“I will
never
forget you,” Clara said tearfully. “All I ever wanted was your love, to raise a family, to spend the rest of our lives together. But we can’t.” She paused, marshalling herself for the words that still needed to be said. “When we got married, I promised to love you until death did us part, a vow I’ve continued to keep for nine years. Part of me will keep it forever. But things need to change. My memories won’t ever go away, but it’s time for me to make new ones. I can’t keep living in the past. I know you wouldn’t want me to.”

Clara believed it. If anything, Joe would have been annoyed that she’d waited so long. He would’ve wanted her to be happy.

“I don’t know how it happened,” she said, smiling through tears, “but I’ve found love twice in a lifetime.”

Suddenly, a loud caw startled her. Clara looked up to see two crows circling above her, gliding effortlessly through the darkening sky. She watched, spellbound, as they landed on a tombstone two rows from where she knelt. She couldn’t have known for certain whether they were the same birds she had spooked when she entered the cemetery, but she suspected they were.

She watched them intently as they stared back at her. Then both birds cawed noisily before one flew off, its wings flapping furiously as it soared across the river before disappearing into the thick woods beyond. The other remained where it was; its beady eyes never left her.

Clara trembled. This was a sign, she was sure of it. In her heart, she believed that Joe was looking down on her. He was giving her his approval for what she had told him, for her feelings for Drake.

The lone crow cawed, but it didn’t fly away.

She smiled, crying tears of joy, and said the only thing that felt right.

“Thank you.”

What in the hell?!

Drake couldn’t move. The last thing he’d expected was for the young woman to kiss him, yet that was just what she’d done. Her boldness stunned him. So here he was in the tavern’s parking lot, the Plymouth a car’s length away, its keys dangling from his hand, with the arms of someone he didn’t know wrapped around his neck, her lips pressed against his.

“Mmmmmm,” she purred into his mouth.

Drake finally shook off his surprise. He grabbed the woman by the arms and pried her loose. He pushed her away a little harder than he’d intended, causing her feet to skid in the gravel. Strangely, she didn’t seem bothered. In fact, his rejection appeared to excite her all the more; her eyes narrowed and she smiled mischievously, with only a hint of teeth showing.

“Don’t do that,” Drake warned; he fought down the urge to wipe his lips with the back of his hand.

“Come on, now,” she replied. “You enjoyed it while it lasted. Just think of all the things we can do if we get in the backseat of your fancy car…”

“No, thanks.”

“Don’t you find me pretty?”

If Drake were to give an honest answer, it would be yes. She was at an age where she was just beginning to understand how seductive her looks could be. Everything about her would catch a man’s eye: the curve of her hips; the color and curl of her hair; the way her blouse had been unbuttoned just far enough to reveal a hint of cleavage; even her voice, honeyed and deep at the same time, sort of like Greta Garbo’s, tugged at that part of him that was still in his teens and twenties, back when he was a skirt chaser, his head on a swivel for the next pretty girl.

But he wasn’t that boy anymore.

It wasn’t hard for Drake to see past her beauty and into her darker depths, down to the person she was on the inside. This lady was poison. To become involved with her, even for a night, was a dangerous proposition.

“Still not interested,” he replied coolly.

She licked her lips. “You would be if you gave me half a chance.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Drake McCoy,” she said with a smirk. “You’re the race car driver.”

Again, he was caught off guard; she seemed to have a knack for surprising him. “Well, then,” he managed to recover, “I don’t know yours.”

Before she answered, she moved a step closer. “I’m Naomi. My father owns this place,” she told him, nodding toward the bar, but her eyes never left him.

Her name made Drake pause; it was like inserting the right key into a stubborn lock, causing the door to creak open.

“Naomi…” he echoed. “Naomi Marsh…”

“That’s right,” she answered him with a smile, as if she was pleased at the recognition. She shouldn’t have been.

“Tommy Sinclair’s gal?”

Her expression soured. “I’m not anyone’s gal,” Naomi replied. “Not exclusively. Right now, I could be
yours
.” She took another step closer.

Like a boulder building momentum as it began rolling down a hill, Drake steadily began to put it all together; suddenly, what had happened in the bar, especially the unprovoked brawl, made a lot more sense.

“It was because of you, wasn’t it?” he asked.

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“That big lug started a fight with me because you told him to.”

“Guilty as charged,” Naomi answered, giving him a wink. “I thought for sure that Chet would make short work of you, but was I ever wrong. Watching you break him down like you did sure got my blood up. I figure that if you
fight
like a wildcat, imagine what you can do in bed…”

Drake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re nuts.”

Naomi laughed like she was really having fun. “That right there is why you interest me so much. You’re nothing like the men I usually meet. They’re always after one thing,” she explained, slowly running a hand across her body, starting at her hip and ending on one of her breasts. “They’ll lie through their teeth trying to get it, but they don’t fool me. Every last one is all dick and no brains.”

“Even Tommy?” Drake asked.

She shrugged. “Yeah, even him. Tommy was fun for a while, but a girl like me has needs a boy can’t fulfill. I want a man.”

This time, when Naomi threw herself at him, Drake was ready. He grabbed her by the shoulders, stopping her in midair. Once again, he pushed her back, but this time, Naomi lost her balance; her eyes went wide before she landed hard on her backside in the loose stones.

“Stop it,” he told her. “You’re making a fool out of yourself.”

“How dare you!” Naomi shouted.

Furious, she scrambled to her feet and stepped toward him, all her sexuality and looks of seduction gone. Rearing back, she slapped him hard across the face. Drake made no move to stop her, even though his cheek hurt like hell, more from the bar brawl than her slap. He’d allowed her to hit him in the hopes that it would get the anger out of her system, but it looked to have been in vain; when she reared back to strike him again, he snatched her by the wrist.

“Let me go!” she screeched.

“Settle down,” he told her. “It’s finished.”

“Why?!” Naomi demanded through a storm of tears. Drake couldn’t know if her show of emotion was on account of pain, shame, or the frustration of being rejected; it was probably a mix of all three. Yanking her hand free, she shouted, “Why don’t you want to be with me?”

Drake didn’t answer, but instead pushed past her and got in the Plymouth. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life.

“Tell me!” Naomi demanded, her hands balled into fists.

Slowly, Drake turned to look at her, his arm draped over the steering wheel. Even after everything he had been through, the beating he’d both given and received and his fruitless search for Tommy, he still felt pity for Naomi; he imagined that nothing in her future was going to go the way she expected it would.

“You’ve got a hell of a lot of growing up to do,” he said before putting the Plymouth in gear and roaring away.

Naomi watched Drake McCoy race his fancy car out of the parking lot; his tires sprayed gravel before they reached the pavement. Within seconds, his taillights had disappeared into the night. But Naomi still stood there, stunned, staring in disbelief. Absently, she rubbed her wrist where he’d grabbed her; it would probably be bruised come morning, along with her rear end.

What…what in the hell just happened?

In the span of half an hour, she had gone from wanting the race car driver beaten to a pulp to hoping he would tear her clothes off and ravish her, but unbelievably she was now right back where she’d started.

She wanted him ruined, even dead.

The only silver lining to her rejection was that there wasn’t anyone around to see it; if there had been, Naomi thought she would have died from the embarrassment. Never in her life had she been turned down like this. She hadn’t thought it possible. No man had ever been able to resist her; she desperately wanted to believe that Drake McCoy’s doing so wasn’t a mark against her, but rather showed him for a fool. Either way, he had to pay.

The only question was how…

Suddenly, an idea occurred to her. It was devilish, even a bit dangerous, but that was part of its appeal. If she actually went through with it, a whole lot of people might end up ruined, especially Drake McCoy. With every passing second, Naomi began to believe it was the
only
choice she could make. When she was finished, the race car driver would regret turning her down.

Naomi smiled. This time, she showed plenty of teeth.

Before Clara got back in her truck, she wiped away a few tears. She stole one last glance at Joe’s grave, smiling easily. One story had ended while a new one began. It was time to look forward.

I’ll never forget you…I promise.

Now that night had arrived, Clara turned on the truck’s headlights, managed to start the engine, and followed the road back toward the cemetery’s entrance. Above her, the moon had climbed high enough to reflect off the creek. Birds dipped and swooped, devouring bugs.

She drove past rows of tombstones before pausing at the cemetery’s gates. But then, just as she began to pull out onto the main road, Clara pressed the brakes. To her left was a sharp bend, tight enough for the road to quickly disappear from sight; to make matters worse, a weeping willow’s branches drooped low to the ground, further blocking her view. Suddenly, without any warning, a car roared around the bend, racing right toward her. Clara gasped. Even though it was almost pitch black out, the vehicle had its headlights turned off. In seconds, the car reached her; it honked as it went past, missing her by a foot, if that.

Clara gripped the steering wheel tightly, her heart pounding. If she hadn’t already believed that Joe was watching over her, this would have convinced her.

“Goddamn it! Watch where the hell you’re goin’!”

Sweet Woods swiveled in the back of the Cadillac to look out the rear window; the truck they’d just missed dwindled into the darkness. He had been half-asleep when Malcolm suddenly jerked the wheel to the side and he’d been pressed up against the door, forced awake and plenty angry.

“It’s as much our fault as theirs,” Jesse said, slumped in the passenger’s seat. “Drivin’ like we are with our lights off.”

“I can see fine,” Malcolm grunted from behind the wheel.

“Ain’t a matter of
your
eyes, but theirs.”

For a quarter of a mile farther, they rode in darkness, Sweet still swearing a blue streak from the backseat, but then Malcolm flipped on the Cadillac’s headlights; he did so just in time to illuminate the sign that announced their arrival in Sunset.