Twice in a lifetime, p.15
Twice in a Lifetime, page 15
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.”
“What about Amos?” she asked. “What will he think?”
“He won’t like it,” Drake answered, with a heavy sigh. “Amos is the closest thing I’ve got to family—hell, he’s been more of a father to me than my own managed to be—but I have to do this. It’s the right choice at the right time. I’ll do my damnedest to make him see it my way, but if he can’t or won’t, then after we run one last race to try to win back what we lost, I reckon we’ll go our separate ways.”
Clara remembered what Amos had said back at the hotel. She had no doubt that the mechanic would be furious about Drake’s decision; he would blame her, understandably, and he would be right, in a way.
“I’m ready for a new day to come,” Drake said.
Gently yet insistently, he pulled her toward him until their bodies touched. Clara knew he wanted to kiss her again; even though they were on the sidewalk where anyone could see them, she had no desire to stop him.
But then, just as Clara closed her eyes, their lips about to touch, a car horn honked down the street. It wasn’t directed at them, someone being smart, but a coincidence; still, it ruined the moment and they both stepped back.
Drake ran a hand through his dark hair. Clara walked over to look in the window of the bakery, empty except for a wedding cake.
“That looks good enough to eat,” Drake said as he joined her.
“It’s probably hard as a rock. It’s been in there for more than a week.”
“Hungry as I am, I doubt it would matter much.”
Clara suddenly had an idea. “How would you like to have dinner at my house tonight?”
He laughed. “I wasn’t dropping a hint.”
“I’m serious.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“You wouldn’t be. My mother has a roast in the oven. There’ll be plenty.”
“In that case, sure, I’d love to.” His eyes narrowed and he gave her a little smile. “Your mother won’t pull another knife on me, will she?”
“No promises,” she answered, and they both laughed, but Drake’s laughter soon faded.
He reached for her and Clara again placed her hand in his.
“I meant what I told you,” Drake said. “I mean to give up racing, to settle down here in Sunset, to start a new life with you. But I want you to believe in me. I need you to believe in us.”
Clara’s eyes searched his. “I do.”
His easy smile bloomed. “I’m glad,” he said. “With you by my side, I’m headed for a bunch of bright tomorrows.”
She nodded. Drake’s life wasn’t the only one that was changing.
Chapter Sixteen
HOW IN THE HECK do you drive this thing?”
Clara laughed loudly in the passenger seat. After they’d walked back to the bank, Drake had asked if he could drive them to her house, expressing an interest in seeing how the old truck handled. She’d happily given him the keys and then watched as he struggled to get it started. Once he finally managed to get them going, it hadn’t gotten much better; at the first stop sign, the truck had sputtered hard enough to shake, nearly stalling out.
“I thought you were some sort of fancy race car driver,” she said, teasing him. “Shouldn’t this be easy for you?”
“No car I’ve ever driven has been as bad as this!”
Accelerating, he tried to shift into a higher gear, but the stick fought him, grinding loudly until he jammed it into place.
“You do this every day?” Drake asked with a laugh.
“It’s not any nicer to me, you know.”
“I tell you one thing, if I manage to open a garage in this town, I know who my first customer is going to be!”
Listening to him, Clara couldn’t believe how quickly her life had changed. Whereas a week ago she had been plagued with worry and apprehension, now, suddenly and unexpectedly, things were looking better.
And it was all because of Drake McCoy.
When they turned onto the street where she lived, he was still talking about the truck. “With a clunker like this, the only question is whether repairs are worth it. In the end, it might be cheaper to buy something else,” he explained. “The way I figure it, we could look around at—”
But before Drake could finish, Clara let out a short scream, a reaction to what she’d seen: black smoke billowing from her house and into the sky.
When Drake saw what had alarmed her, his reaction was swift; he made the truck go faster, working the gearshift forcefully, ignoring its protests. Within seconds, he braked hard in front of the house, skidding a few feet before bringing them to a sudden, jarring stop. The next thing Clara knew, she was standing on the sidewalk, staring as if in a trance.
My house…It’s on fire…
Though she couldn’t see any flames, smoke leaked skyward from the rear of the house. Clara could only imagine what was happening inside—the flames devouring everything in sight, burning up her belongings, taking away her memories until nothing was left.
Instead of being frozen with shock and surprise, Drake acted. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the house. “Come on!”
Together, they raced onto the porch. Drake whipped open the front door and plunged inside, with Clara right behind. The smoke made her eyes water, but it wasn’t as thick as she’d expected. Wherever the fire was, it hadn’t yet reached the front of the house.
“Tommy…my mother…” Clara managed, frightened out of her wits.
Drake pointed at the stairs. “Go see if anyone is up there! I’ll check down here!” When Clara still hadn’t moved, he shouted, “Get going!” before disappearing into the smoke toward the rear of the house.
Clara didn’t hesitate long before doing as he said.
Something about this doesn’t add up…
When Drake had yanked open Clara’s front door, he’d expected to be assaulted by a wave of heat hot enough to burn exposed skin. He had assumed that the smoke would be chokingly thick and dense. But neither had been true.
Even now, as he pushed through the living room and toward an open doorway at the back of the house, he only needed to keep his face pressed against his sleeve, his eyes squinted, and his breathing shallow.
Don’t relax, not for a minute!
His hope was that they’d arrived before the fire grew out of control. If he could reach it in time, stop it before any real damage was done…
Drake stepped into the kitchen and finally got some answers.
Bright orange and yellow flames leaped from a cast-iron skillet on the stove where something crackled and burned. Smoke billowed from the conflagration. Fortunately, the door just off the kitchen was open; it allowed smoke to pass through the screen of the inner door and up into the sky; that was what Clara had seen when they drove up.
Drake stepped to the sink, filled a glass with water, and was just about to throw it on the fire when he suddenly stopped; he had no way of knowing what was burning. If it was grease, then tossing water on it would send it splattering in every direction and make the situation worse than it already was.
Instead, he rummaged through Clara’s cabinets, searching for something he could use. Finally, down among the pots and pans, he found a dented metal tray. Carefully, his arm extended far from his body, he dropped it onto the skillet with a bang, covering it completely and choking out the fire’s air; without any fuel, the blaze was spent in seconds. Once he’d shut off the burner, the danger was no more. But even as he threw open windows to hasten the smoke’s departure, Drake kept asking himself the same question, over and over.
What happened here?
With a sickening feeling in his stomach, he wondered if he didn’t already know the answer.
Clara raced up the staircase as fast as her feet could take her, rising through the smoke, causing it to swirl around her. On the landing, she turned left and pushed open the door to Tommy’s room. Shouting his name, she frantically searched for some sign of her son, fear and desperation gripping her tight, but he wasn’t there. She hurried back in the opposite direction, past the bathroom and her own bedroom, both of them empty, before reaching her mother’s door. Clara stepped inside and gasped at what she saw.
