Late to the Wedding Page 10

  “I suppose you two will be staying friends then,” their tablemate speculated in the wake of the waitress’s departure. “Since you live in the same city, I mean.”

  “Ah, well…” Brian focused on his plate’s dwindling contents, avoiding the look he knew would be on Evelyn’s face. “That won’t be possible, since Miss Chase and I have different destinies. Unless she hires me for a return trip,” he added. When in fact, he was absolutely certain they would never cross paths again. The thought of driving her and lovey-dovey Jared back to New York repulsed him for some reason.

  Although the possibility seemed slim that things would work out–would this situation really end in happily ever after, an old flame showing up to crash a rehearsal dinner? Scowling, he hunched over his plate, his fork smashing the last bite of lobster into a paste.

  “I only ask because of a similar experience,” Slade said, with an oblivious air of cheerfulness. “Except mine involved a contest for winning a car. One of those deals where you and the other finalist agreed to lock yourselves inside the vehicle for seventy-two hours.”

  “And you didn’t strangle each other?” Evelyn speculated, a note of awe in her voice.

  “Not even tempted,” he said, dabbing his chin with a napkin. “In fact, we ended up splitting use of the car for several years before I moved to Boston. Thirty years later and he still has it. Enters it in car shows as a classic and sends me pictures of it in a yearly Christmas card.”

  Brian laughed. “I don’t think Evelyn’ll be begging for updates on the Sedan. What was it you called it again–a rat trap?” Turning in her direction with a sardonic smile.

  “Possibly.” She inched her plate aside, rising suddenly from the booth. “Excuse me, for a moment,” she said, “but I really should wash up before we grab the check.” Her white skirts flounced in the direction of the restroom, fingers already unsnapping the handbag of makeup she carried.

  The psychologist’s gaze followed her as she moved away to the back of the restaurant. “Very lovely. I can see why you’re taken with her.”

  “What?” Brian fumbled with his fork, a crimson tide washing up from beneath his open collar. “We’re not together–nothing’s happening. She’s trying to win back her ex-fiancé.”

  Slade shrugged, spearing another piece of shrimp with his fork. “Maybe so. Which doesn’t explain the connection I sense between the two of you; the strong bond you seem to have formed in so short an acquaintance.”

  Brian rolled his eyes. “Trust me, you’re way off here, doc. No chance.” Though his voice lacked the confidence it needed to make the statement seem real; his fingers playing with the salt shaker absently.

  “But why else would you face so many obstacles for her sake?” The other man spread his hands as if presenting evidence for his argument. “You obviously feel very compelled to help this woman who you’ve only just met. Clearly you’re conflicted about it.”

  “Yeah, because it’s crazy.” Brian sighed, one hand rubbing the back of his neck in a frustrated gesture. “She thinks she’s in love. So even if I did feel some sort of attraction, it wouldn’t matter.”

  “Now is the time to ask yourself the question. Once you reach your destination there may be no going back.”

  Brian crumpled his napkin and tossed it onto the plate. “Believe me, this is just a business arrangement. I’ll be out of her life by tomorrow.” He rose from his seat. “I better pay the bill.”

  A lame excuse to walk away, but he needed a moment to think before Evelyn returned and the last leg of their journey was set into motion.

  Chapter Twelve

  Evelyn patted her face dry and practiced a smile in the mirror. Ten to twelve hours. Her estimate for the space of time remaining between herself and the moment that would forever change her life.

  A slight wobble entered her knees with the thought, her fingers struggling to draw a smooth lipstick line.

  You’re going to make it, she thought, tucking the makeup items back in her handbag. Her fingers brushing her pocketbook, reminding her that the second installment of Brian’s payment was due, per their verbal agreement. Would he bring the subject up if she forgot to? Part of her was almost tempted to wait and see if he would, rather than talk about their business relations once again. Not that she could explain to herself why she hesitated to enforce it this time.

  Slipping out the door to the women’s washroom, she weaved quickly through the scattered tables of diners. Her pace slowing as she reached the main room to find only the hitchhiker seated in their booth, his fingers busy sneaking another tidbit to the interested chipmunk.

  “Where’s Mr. Stoker?” she asked, sitting across from him.

  “Paying the bill.” He smiled and let the jacket fall back into place over the chipmunk, narrowly escaping the notice of a passing waitress, her arms loaded down with platters of oysters and fried potatoes. “I understand your journey is one involving matters of the heart. Please don’t be angry with your friend,” he added, “it was my fault he let it slip.”

  She blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s all right. I realize it sounds crazy to someone who never met Jared. But I’ve never been so sure of anything in my whole life.” Her hand stroked the purse where the infamous letter lay between her compact and pocketbook.

  “That’s very moving,” her listener murmured, though his expression carried a cautiousness that puzzled her. “This must be a very deep connection for you to pursue him so far, even after dissolving your engagement.”

  “It’s meant to be,” she said, insistently. “Every time I think we’re finally through, the road circles back to him. I can’t brush it off as a coincidence. Bad karma or no, this trip is fated to happen.”

  His brow furrowed, a hesitance passing over his face. “Perhaps, I should stay out of it. After all, you seem very confident.”

  “What is it?” she asked. Certain that nothing he said could challenge her belief, not after all she’d been through.

  “Some things are best left to the hands of the universe,” he replied. With a nod to the restaurant’s foyer, where Brian could be glimpsed waiting in line for the register. “Perhaps Brian also has a place in this universal experience of karma.”

  Evelyn hesitated. “What? No–no,” she gave a choked laugh. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Stoker is anything but the caring type when it comes to romance. He doesn’t have a love life, practically obsessed with his cab and career...”

  “Yes, I know,” said Slade, taking a long draught from his glass of mineral water. “But I would be rather surprised if he takes your money in the end.” His eyes studying her with a twinkle above the rim of his water glass.

  “He will,” she answered, tilting her chin at a stubborn angle. “He has to, considering all the trouble it’s been, the damage to his car…” Something about this conversation seemed more like babbling than explaining. She stopped speaking abruptly, her eyes moving unbidden in the direction of Brian at the counter.

  His profile was clearly visible as he sorted through the bills in his wallet. A lean jaw and uncombed hair, his broad shoulders encased beneath the same faded shirt. His dark gaze flickered upwards to meet hers momentarily, as if sensing her stare.

  Was there anything like tenderness in those depths? Cheeks burning, she glanced away. “I’m sure you’re very good at what you do, but you’re mistaken in this case,” she said to the hitchhiker across from her. “Just trust me on this one.”

  “There is a first time for most things.” The psychologist spread his hands in a helpless shrug. “Well, I must be going if I’m going to make that twelve-thirty speaking assignment. And you have a deadline to meet as well, I believe.”

  She frowned. “Aren’t you coming with us?” she asked. “We’ll drive you to the ... uh, speaking engagement.” In her mind, she picture the time lost chauffeuring a potentially-crazy stranger to an unknown destination, minutes lost in her journey to Jared. Somehow, she couldn’t picture leaving Slade to fend f
or himself.

  “Karma bends our paths in different directions,” said Slade. “Notably, mine to the driver seated at the table over there–” he nodded towards a party of businessmen eating a seafood sampler buffet, “–with whom I feel compelled to share my dilemma.”

  She nodded, letting him grasp her hand in a friendly farewell. “Good luck,” she said, forcing a smile to her lips, despite the confusion rushing through her.

  “Tell Brian when he returns I am touched by his karmic gesture and forever indebted to you both.” He sent her a final wave, his bag slung over his shoulder as he moved towards the table on the other side of the room. No doubt he would be successful in persuading them, since Slade seemed to have a connection with the universe she couldn’t explain. A strange figure for dispensing advice on the longings of the human heart, she thought.

  “Is he gone already?” Brian had returned, stuffing his wallet in his pocket, although something in his expression seemed more like relief than regret over the absence of the hitchhiker.

  “His destiny called,” she answered. “And we should really be going too.” Sliding from the booth, she brushed past him and made her way towards the door, watching his figure follow in the glass door’s reflection. His hands were stuffed in his pockets again, a slightly brooding air visible in his face.

  In the car, they were both quiet. Brian seemed absorbed in some private thought as he drove, eyes locked on the road ahead, the cars passing en route to other destinations. Evelyn folded and re-folded the map, rapidly becoming useless for any part of their journey but finding the remote plantation that was hosting Jared’s reception.

  Brian couldn’t possibly be plagued by the same feelings of worry and of self-doubt. Most likely it was some random remark from their friend the hitchhiker, whose speculations stayed on her mind as they crossed through what seemed like endless stretches of Tennessee landscape and highway.

  He was just mistaking a friendship bond for something more, she assured herself, tilting her face to the window. Wouldn’t she be thinking the same thing if she encountered a young couple traveling cross country? If she was told a story about two people caught up in crazy circumstances, the kind of adventures that tend to force people to bond. Naturally, she felt some connection to Brian–the same kind of connection people feel who end up stuck in an elevator together or experience a flight delay at the airport.

  She passed the time by scanning the tree-lined horizon for the all-important ‘Welcome to Alabama’ sign. It didn’t appear until almost sunset, a faint triumph after three hours of silent travel. Not exactly the thrill she expected, the way it feels to see the sign for Disneyland as a child. Her fingers tensed nervously, closing around the door’s armrest.

  “Happy?” Brian asked, glancing tentatively in her direction. Clearly expecting something a little more animated to greet this particular landmark. “We’re getting close. Just half a state to cross.” She thought she detected a trace of his old sarcasm again.

  “Fine,” she answered, with a tiny smile.

  A long night of driving lay ahead, something she didn’t relish. For the first time, she felt truly tired, her bones aching and head stuffed with cloth. She tried to picture herself dressed to the nines and greeting Jared in some unexpected encounter that would leave them both breathless, but all she could see was a vision of herself frantically struggling with pantyhose and a rumpled cocktail dress at a last-minute restroom stop.

  The thought of stopping reminded her it was time to find an ATM and make good on her business arrangement. Any moment now Brian would remember she owed him his promised fee–not just the one from Chattanooga, but the rest to be paid upon arrival in Kingsley.

  So why was she so reluctant to bring it up, to hand him the money personally, as opposed to leaving it in an unmarked envelope in the passenger’s seat? The gift of an unnamed stranger, perhaps, instead of a fee extracted from his companion in the last few days’ adventures.

  They passed through a series of smaller cities and towns as the sunset’s glow faded gradually to twilight. Sometime after the city of Huntsville, Brian snapped the radio on, filling the cab with the strains of classical music.

  The much-loathed NPR station Brian had banned from the start. To her surprise he didn’t touch the dial. Perhaps he had grown indifferent to what sounds emerged from the speakers; perhaps he didn’t notice the radio signal had switched music genres since last time.

  Evelyn sighed, her body relaxing to the lullaby of Brahms’s classic composition. This atmosphere reminded her of her daily meditation hour during yoga; she mimicked her slow breathing in hopes it would calm her perspective. Mentally, she banished the words of the roadside analyst, whose advice she chalked up to an overly sentimental personality. Picturing him as the type who wrote poems on café napkins and tossed pennies in fountains in hopes his wish might come true.

  As darkness crept through the car, her senses detected a back and forth motion that was not in rhythm to the music. Eyes snapping open, she turned to see Brian bobbing slightly, eyelids sagging as he hunched forward

  “Brian!” She shook his arm, forcing him to wake up fully.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, gripping the wheel more firmly.

  “Let me take over,” she offered. “You’re exhausted; I have an excellent driving record, I promise.”

  He shook his head. “We’re both tired. You closed your eyes a second ago, or don’t you remember?”

  A moment of silence elapsed. “We should get some sleep,” he said. “Both of us.”

  “We’re not camping on the side of the road–”

  “I didn’t mean that,” he interrupted. “This is Birmingham ahead of us, not Plain View. The city doesn’t sleep until midnight at least. Plenty of time to grab a cheap hotel room somewhere. Then you can shower and be ready for the big day bright and early.”

  Something about the way he said “big day” sounded less than enthusiastic, but Evelyn ignored his tone.

  “And lose time again,” she reminded him. Unless he wanted more money, there was no reason to delay their finish any longer. Her mind refusing to consider the only other motive he might have for missing her deadline.

  “Listen, four in the morning is kind of early if you plan to drop in on your ex. Unless he’s an exceptionally early riser, that means the two of us are left sitting in a parking lot somewhere waiting for the rest of the world to wake up.”

  “But we’ll be there,” she said. “That’s what I want, Brian. Being a stone’s throw away isn‘t good enough...”

  “You want to spend the final minutes before your fiancé’s wedding rushing to change clothes and washing your hair in the women’s restroom? If so, be my guest.”

  His words were eerily similar to the picture in her mind only moments earlier, making her skin tingle with coincidence. If nothing else, his argument made sense. Letting Jared see her in a dingy sundress and unwashed hair was the last thing she wanted.

  Especially since his wedding was supposed to be tomorrow afternoon. A fact that sank to the pit of her stomach like a cold lump of ice. She would walk into the lobby of a historic plantation to face Jared and–who? His family? His bride-to-be? The last chance she would ever have at a perfect love story?

  “All right,” she sighed. “But we don’t stay all night–we leave the hotel key on the desk and we’re on the road before dawn, agreed?”

  “Agreed.” He shifted the car into drive and pulled back onto the highway. The first smile she’d seen on his face in hours as they drove towards the city lights ahead.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Evelyn waited in line for the sidewalk’s ATM machine, her fingers absently twisting the braided handles to a shopping bag. All around her, the outlet mall for downtown Birmingham brimmed with evening shoppers and food court diners. Laughing tourists with nothing more to occupy them than a leisurely stroll through the shops in search of their next souvenir.

  Her own purchases came from a clothing store chain called Off
the Rack, where after three trips to the dressing room, she finally settled on the perfect dress for tomorrow’s venture. A knee-length silk with a layered cowl that rested in folds along her shoulders. A smoky shade of blue that Jared had admired in the past–didn’t he say it made her look like a mermaid?

  Maybe it would transform her into an enchanted princess escaped from the depths of the sea for a fairytale ending.

  She tried not to imagine confronting him tomorrow, her chest tightening every time she pictured waiting for him in a strange place. A shiver stealing through her frame as she pictured the look on his face. Would it be shock? Amazement? A glimmer of love in those depths?

  Stepping up to the ATM, she keyed in her information, watching as six one hundred dollar bills shot through the slot. Enough to pay Brian’s full fee, something she intended to do the moment she returned to their mutual hotel room, where she would slip it casually onto his cot while he was off somewhere showering or filling the ice bucket.

  The male clerk at the hotel desk offered her a leering smile over his newspaper as she came through the lobby. He had noted their practically-nonexistent luggage, no doubt imagining this was an impromptu rendezvous. Probably he imagined some scandalous nightgown lay inside the shopping bag, a black lace model like the ones sported by the mannequins in the outlet mall store windows.

  She pulled her key card from her handbag and climbed three flights of stairs to the room. The shopping bag flapped against her side as she pushed the door open, revealing the cheap beige carpet, striped wallpaper, and queen-sized bed. Brian lounged on his cot in the corner, watching with boredom the late-night newscast.

  “I thought you would be asleep,” she said, dropping the bag on her bed. Surprised by the flustered note in her voice as she spoke to him. Now she would have to pay him directly–this was the opportune time to hand over the envelope–but she felt reluctant to do so. Something that made absolutely no sense to her.