Twice in a lifetime, p.28
Twice in a Lifetime, page 28
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he replied. “I lost my best friend, my car, and nearly all my savings, which means I can’t open a garage.”
“I suppose you’re right…” she said, feeling a bit deflated.
Drake chuckled. He pulled Clara close, pushing hair off her cheek and looking deep into her eyes. “In the end, none of that is important,” he explained. “What matters is that I have you. Together, we can do anything.”
Clara believed him. Ever since their unlikeliest of meetings, her life had undergone one change after another: she had mended most of her troubles with her son, while Tommy had broken off his relationship with Naomi; Eddie’s threat of taking away her home was no more; and even though her mother’s memory continued to deteriorate, she no longer had to face it alone. But the most unbelievable change of all was having Drake by her side.
“I love you,” she said.
He didn’t answer with words, but instead leaned down to kiss her, making it clear that he felt the same.
“What do you say we go celebrate?” he asked when their lips parted.
Now that sounded like a wonderful idea.
Epilogue
October 1954
HAVE A GOOD EVENING. Stay warm!”
Clara waved to Roy Washington as she stepped out of the Sunset Bank and Trust and into the autumn evening. Darkness was coming fast, the days shortening. A nippy breeze stirred fallen leaves, swirling them around her feet and sending a chill racing through her; she stuffed her hands deep in her pockets, desperate for a bit of warmth. Still, as she quickened her pace down the empty sidewalk, her smile was as bright as summer. Her life was good.
Ever since Eddie had been hauled out of the hotel parlor by Sheriff Oglesby, everything at the bank had changed for the better. Roy, who had been fired shortly after Theo Fuller’s death, was brought back to guide the bank through the turbulent waters Eddie had steered them into. An auditing of the books showed that Eddie had cost them tens of thousands of dollars—mostly out of sheer incompetence, but some funds had been embezzled to buy expensive clothes, drink, cigars, and other luxuries that had caught his fancy; that included the money he’d attempted to give Drake to leave town. For that, Eddie had been sentenced to thirty years behind bars. At his trial, Clara had expected him to protest his innocence, to complain that he was too important to go to jail, but he had barely said a word in his own defense, sitting with slumped shoulders, a beaten man. He would never bother anyone, especially Clara, again.
She walked past the post office, the grocery store, and the Sunset Hotel, where so much had happened last spring, before finally arriving at her destination.
The doors to Solomon Burke’s auto garage stood wide open; inside, two men were bent over beneath an open hood, peering into an engine. Music was occasionally punctuated by the clang of a tool against metal.
Even though he couldn’t possibly have heard her approach, Drake noticed her arrival. “Give me a minute,” he said.
Clara nodded, stamping her feet in the chill.
Of course, this wasn’t what they’d intended when Drake had first proposed giving up racing and staying in Sunset. But when all his money had been destroyed in the Plymouth’s crash, his dream had been lost, or, at the least, postponed. Fortunately, he’d had no trouble catching on with Solomon; five minutes under the hood with Drake would have convinced anyone he was a good mechanic. Because he was easy to work with, as well as a good listener, he immediately fit right in. He still socked away as much money as he could afford to save; maybe he would someday open his own business, or he might even buy Solomon’s. Either way, she knew he was happy.
Patting his boss on the back, Drake was done for the day. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe grease from his hands; he never managed to get them completely clean.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I was never the best when it came to changing the distributor on a V8 engine. Amos had it down to a science.”
It wasn’t often, but Drake’s old friend still came up in conversation occasionally. Miraculously, the thug who had been jettisoned from the Cadillac had survived his injuries. Once he could talk, he had explained that Amos was a morphine addict who’d stolen money and drugs from Sweet Woods, a small-time hood from St. Louis; he and the other tough had died in the crash that claimed Amos. For months after, Drake had sifted through his years with the mechanic, searching for something, some sign of his drug habit, but had come up empty. Clara suspected that there was a part of Drake that blamed himself for Amos’s death; if he’d known about his friend’s addiction, he could have saved him. So now when Amos was mentioned, it was always the good things, times on the road and under the hood, never anything that had happened in Sunset.
“So what’s so important to show me that I have to stand out here in the cold?” Clara asked playfully.
Drake chuckled. “It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I just blurted it out, now would it? Come with me.”
He led her around the back of the garage, past DeSotos, Chryslers, Oldsmobiles, and other makes, all in various stages of repair. True to his word, one of the first vehicles Drake worked on had been Clara’s truck; after his long hours tinkering with it, the pickup ran better than it had in years, though it still occasionally sputtered to a stop if it idled too long.
“You’ll never guess who brought in his car today,” Drake said.
“Who?”
“Wilbur Marsh. That was his Studebaker that Solomon and I were working on.” Drake shook his head. “He hasn’t taken very good care of it.”
“Did he say anything about Naomi?”
“Not a word.”
One day, a little over a month ago, Naomi had disappeared from Sunset. Gossip around town was that she had hooked up with a man who’d come into the Marshland and decided to run off with him. Another rumor was that she was pregnant and had gone to live with relatives in Arkansas. For her part, Clara hoped that Naomi had decided to take a chance and gone to either New York or Hollywood to chase her dreams. Even though the young woman had caused her plenty of sleepless nights, Clara didn’t wish her ill. She figured that Naomi deserved happiness, wherever it might be. Who knew, maybe one day there she would be, up on a billboard or on the cover of a magazine.
Drake suddenly stopped. “Close your eyes,” he told her.
Clara did as he said and he took her by the elbow and led her a short distance farther.
“Open them.”
A vehicle sat beneath a tarp. “It’s a car,” she jokingly guessed.
“Give the lady a cigar!” Drake shouted like a carnival barker. “But this isn’t just any old car. This one is special.”
With that, he whipped away the tarp with a flourish. Even with as little as Clara knew about cars, she recognized its make right away; it was a Plymouth. While it wasn’t exactly the same as the one Drake had driven into Sunset, it had many of the same features: the curve of the hood, the shape of the headlights and side mirrors, and the black exterior. It had a few dents in its panels, some rust marring one of the wheel wells, and a crack across the passenger-side window, but it was a beauty all the same.
“I got it for a song,” Drake explained. “Chris Gilliand didn’t want it anymore, so I took it off his hands. It still needs a lot of work—the windshield wipers are busted, the trunk has to be forced open, and someone took a knife to the rear seats—but it’s on its way to respectability. It might be an eyesore on the outside, but under the hood, it’s a thing of beauty.”
A sudden thought struck Clara, making her smile falter. “Is this because you want to start racing again?” she asked.
Drake laughed loudly. “No, it isn’t,” he answered. “That itch has been scratched. I’m done behind the wheel.” He paused. “I was thinking that once I got it going, this might be Tommy’s.”
In the months since Drake’s arrival, it sometimes felt as if Tommy had changed into a completely different person. Out from under Naomi’s influence and with a strong male role model in his life, he was doing better than ever. Together, he and Drake had set about repairing the house; they rehung the fallen gutters, patched the roof, and had finally put the garage doors back up. Resuming an old tradition, all three of them had made almost weekly outings to the movie theater, indulging Tommy’s newfound love of monster flicks. At school, Tommy’s grades had started to improve and he’d made a few friends. He still had his moments of teenage rebelliousness, but that was to be expected; Clara didn’t mind a little sass now and then, not so long as she had her son back.
Unfortunately, not everything with her family had gotten better. Christine’s memory troubles plagued her more and more frequently. Just yesterday, she’d readied a load of laundry to hang on the line to dry; the problem was that it was pouring rain outside. She stumbled on names, forgot familiar phone numbers, blanked on addresses, and had even called Drake “Joe” once or twice; fortunately, he’d taken it in stride, never showing a hint of unease. Late at night, Clara often unloaded her worries to Drake. He always listened carefully, making the occasional comment, promising that they would do whatever they could to help Christine. Often, Clara thought about what he’d told her on the porch swing: that as long as they tried as hard as they could, that was enough. She still worried about her mother’s future, but she knew they wouldn’t let her go without a fight.
“So do you want to go for a ride?” Drake asked.
“It runs?” she replied.
“You better believe she runs.” He opened the driver’s-side door. “The other door doesn’t open so hot,” he explained.
Clara got in and slid across. Drake followed, put the key in the ignition, and started the Plymouth’s engine; the rumble was familiar.
“Are you sure you remember how to drive a car like this?”
Drake grinned. “I couldn’t forget if I tried.”
While he drove around to the street, Clara couldn’t help but think about how blessed she was to have met him. In the six months since Drake had unexpectedly given up racing and settled down with her in Sunset, she’d been blissfully happy. But as overwhelming as those first days together had been, what had followed was even better than she could have hoped. It was the day-to-day moments that made Clara fall head over heels for Drake: the way his hair was often mussed up; how he always tapped the wall just inside the kitchen door when he left after lunch; the unrecognizable yet pleasant tunes he whistled while he washed the dishes; but especially how he would surprise her with flowers or a note when she least expected it, just to tell her how much he loved her. Her heart still drummed faster every time she saw him, every time she heard his voice.
A week ago, Drake had proposed; Clara had tearfully accepted. Sometime next spring, they would be married. Tommy had been as excited as she was, something for which she would be forever grateful; later, she learned that Drake had asked her son’s permission for her hand. Their ceremony and reception would be a simple affair, with music and food, but she was already counting the days. Forever stretched out before them. Even after all the heartbreak that had battered her life with Joe’s death, something wonderful had happened.
Love had changed her life. Again.
“So where do you want to go?” Drake asked, his free hand draped over the steering wheel.
“With you, I’d go anywhere,” she told him. “As long as we go fast.”
He chuckled. “That, I can most definitely do.”
Whatever road they went down, they would drive it together.
About the Author
Dorothy Garlock is one of America’s—and the world’s—favorite novelists. Her work has consistently appeared on national bestsellers lists, including the New York Times list, and there are over fifteen million copies of her books in print translated into eighteen languages. She has won more than twenty writing awards, including an RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Historical Fiction for A Week from Sunday, five Silver Pen Awards from Affaire de Coeur, and three Silver Certificate Awards. Her novel With Hope was chosen by Amazon as one of the best romances of the twentieth century.
After retiring as a news reporter and bookkeeper in 1978, she began her career as a novelist with the publication of Love and Cherish. She lives in Clear Lake, Iowa. You can visit her website at DorothyGarlock.com.
Books by Dorothy Garlock
After the Parade
Almost Eden
Annie Lash
By Starlight
Come a Little Closer
Dreamkeepers
Dream River
The Edge of Town
Forever Victoria
A Gentle Giving
Glorious Dawn
High on a Hill
Homeplace
Hope’s Highway
Keep a Little Secret
Larkspur
Leaving Whiskey Bend
The Listening Sky
Lonesome River
Love and Cherish
Loveseekers
Midnight Blue
The Moon Looked Down
More than Memory
Mother Road
Nightrose
On Tall Pine Lake
A Place Called Rainwater
Promisegivers
Restless Wind
Ribbon in the Sky
River of Tomorrow
River Rising
The Searching Hearts
Sins of Summer
Song of the Road
Stay a Little Longer
Sweetwater
Take Me Home
Tenderness
This Loving Land
Train from Marietta
Under a Texas Sky
Wayward Wind
A Week from Sunday
Wild Sweet Wilderness
Will You Still Be Mine?
Wind of Promise
Wishmakers
With Heart
With Hope
With Song
Yesteryear
HEARTFELT PRAISE FOR
DOROTHY GARLOCK
AND HER UNFORGETTABLE NOVELS
“Garlock is a master.”
—Booklist
“A gifted writer.”
—Chicago Sun-Times
“One of America’s most endearing historical fiction authors.”
—RT Book Reviews
TAKE ME HOME
“Garlock’s lovely, sweet novel is a testament to the last great generation.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Take Me Home has a unique perspective for a historical novel set during World War II.”
—FreshFiction.com
UNDER A TEXAS SKY
“Garlock is a masterful storyteller who recognizes what her audience craves and consistently delivers a sweet, nostalgic read that conveys the reality and romance of the era…There is enough depth of emotion in Under a Texas Sky to satisfy her fans.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Who could resist a romantic summertime read from the ‘Voice of America’s Heartland,’ especially with ‘Texas’ in the title?”
—Fort Worth Star-Telegram (TX)
“The latest from romance doyenne Garlock mixes light suspense with traditional romance for an entertaining effect.”
—Booklist
BY STARLIGHT
“Few authors can recreate the atmosphere of a 1930s small town as beautifully and faithfully as Garlock. She imbues each story with a classic American aura while creating a touching, realistic plotline peopled by authentic characters.”
—RT Book Reviews
“An emotional tale of two people in an almost impossible situation…Dorothy Garlock has made the early twentieth century her own and has another winner in her latest novel.”
—RomRevToday.com
“This is an entertaining Depression-era romantic suspense that brings to life Prohibition in Big Sky Country. The lead couple is a delightful pair…the speakeasy with mobsters, customers, employees, and Prohibitionists [make] for an enjoyable Americana.”
—GenreGoRoundReviews.blogspot.com
COME A LITTLE CLOSER
“Few authors capture the atmosphere and voices of the heartland during the mid-twentieth century like Garlock. She completes her Tucker family trilogy with a tender, realistic look at small-town America after WWII and what war can do to those who fought and those who waited at home. Crisp prose and simple words cannot hide the powerful underlying lessons of loss, friendship, brotherly love, family ties, and the simple acts of kindness that bind a community.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Another winner for Dorothy Garlock…a wonderful romance.”
—BestsellersWorld.com
“This delightful post-WWII thriller stars a strong small-town cast struggling to move past the war. The tenuous relationships between Tyler, Holden, and Christina make the tale fun to read while Dorothy Garlock paints a vivid backdrop of 1946 Wisconsin.”
—GenreGoRoundReviews.blogspot.com
KEEP A LITTLE SECRET
“Garlock is a master at developing characters through their actions and evoking settings so real they transport the reader back in time…All the elements that keep Garlock’s fans coming back for more are here.”
—Booklist
“Four stars…[Garlock] takes readers back in time with her simple prose and likable characters, making them able to believe they are witnesses to the story. Not only is Garlock a premier Americana writer, but she is one who touches chords in readers’ hearts.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Excellent…enjoyable and compelling…eminently readable…engaging characters, romance, suspense, and small-town America in an era gone by.”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
STAY A LITTLE LONGER
“Heartwarming…love blooms.”
—Publishers Weekly
