Late to the Wedding Page 9

  He swatted at a large moth drifting downwards from the naked bulb above them; the only other source of illumination was the faint security light from Handy Henry’s Auto Shop, where the Sedan lay hostage. No romantic moonlight, no twinkling stars; nothing to transform the predicament of two people sitting outside a diner into a fairytale moment.

  Evelyn sighed, scrutinizing his features in the dim atmosphere. “All I’m saying is it’s a little unusual to have made it so far in life, and encountered so many people, without getting your heart broken at least once.”

  “I’m not sure casual dates and high school crushes count,” he answered. “Although, there was this one girl in college…”

  “I knew it.” She raised her chin gleefully, aware she’d scored a point over him with this begrudging admission.

  “But she was only pretending,” he said, a grin tugging itself into place on his lips. “Turns out she was using me to get to my roommate, a campus jock. They married right after graduation.”

  “Oh.” She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry...”

  “Relax, she was allergic to dairy, so it wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”

  Evelyn laughed. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be then. But you know what they say about opposites–” She cut off, suddenly awkward at the thought of this phrase. Running her hands over her arms to warm them against a shiver. No doubt from the cool night air, she reassured herself.

  He pushed back his chair and rose, making her wonder momentarily if she’d offended him after all. Pulling off his jacket, he draped it around her shoulders, tucking it tenderly into place.

  “You looked cold,” he explained, sitting down again.

  She fingered the fabric, traces of aftershave drifting from its collar. “Thank you,” she said, a touch of surprise in her voice “That was nice. Almost like a gentleman.”

  “Maybe I’m trying to change my reputation,” he said. “But then, you would probably argue I haven’t got one to change, since my romantic experience is so limited. Am I right?”

  Evelyn wrapped the jacket closer around her. “Not necessarily,” she answered. “I’d say your biggest problem is that you’re not that interested in romance. You don’t look for the signs because you think it’s a random draw, instead of something special. ”

  “Oh, here we go.” This with an exaggerated eye roll. “More romantic drivel. How do you know when it’s real and not just a passing whim? Clue me in on this philosophy of yours.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. Everyone’s experience is different, so just because I know doesn’t guarantee that you would, too–at least not the same way.”

  “What about yours?” he asked, his voice softening. “Just when did you decide this Jared guy was the one? Is there some defining moment you can point to? Some cosmic proof that finding that letter wasn’t just a coincidence? Bad luck even?”

  She flushed with indignation. The incident was personal and a little bit crazy, even to her. Wasn’t he being impertinent, to ask that kind of question? It’s not as if he knew the history of their relationship, the true nature of all their ups and down, their breakups and reunions.

  “It’s not–” she began. “It’s really not something I can explain ...”

  “C’mon, I won’t laugh.” His tone was still gentle. “I promise.”

  “All right.” She stiffened, drawing a deep breath. “It’s Christmas Eve and we’ve been broken up for two weeks–over where to spend the holidays, ironically. And I’m flying home from this last-minute magazine assignment in New Mexico, thinking I’ll just spend it with an empty apartment and a glass of red wine.” Her fingers twisted one of the jacket’s buttons as the scene played in her mind.

  “When I get to the airport it’s nothing but big groups of happy families and friends greeting each other with hugs and laughter. Meanwhile, I’m looking for my luggage and I can’t find it anywhere, and I’m on the verge of panicking because its gotten lost so many times before. And then someone taps me on the shoulder...”

  “Jared,” Brian guessed.

  She nodded. “But he’s not alone. He’s driven my mother and stepfather up from Connecticut; he’s even convinced my brother to show up with his girlfriend of the moment. ”Tears pricked her eyes. “They had Christmas presents and someone had brought this big potted poinsettia... It was just…like magic. And I knew he was perfect for me; I knew he would always find a way to bridge the gaps between us.”

  Brian cleared his throat after a pause in her story. “Guess I was wrong about big, dramatic gestures.” His smile was half-hearted, his shoulders hunched without a trace of cockiness in his posture. She felt a trace of pity, although she wasn’t sure why she should feel sorry for him, or why he would seem so downhearted after hearing a story that had nothing to do with his life.

  “Listen, we should probably get some sleep.” He rose from his seat. “Tomorrow’s an early start and a long day of driving.”

  “Right,” she answered, feeling something strange fluttering in her chest; a physical reaction to this strange but deeply personal moment. Pulling the jacket close around her, she followed him inside the darkened café, where they slid into separate booths. “Brian?” she said, her voice hollow sounding in the vast space.

  “Yeah?” His answer came back slightly muffled by the wall between them, the scratch of the vinyl booth as he moved.

  “Thanks. For dinner, I mean. It was perfect.”

  No reply came. Slipping her hands beneath her head, she listened for a moment longer. Then let her eyes drift shut, the darkness fading into sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  They were waiting in the two waiting room chairs closest to the auto repair zone when Handy Henry emerged with his customary oil rag in hand. Evelyn rose from her seat, immediately tossing aside a dusty issue of Today’s Auto.

  “Boy, you folks don’t waste any time, huh?” said the mechanic, as she brushed past him and towards the Sedan parked before the open garage door. Brian yawned as he followed, his eyes still sleep-blurred from lack of sleep when Felix arrived for the breakfast shift at four in the morning.

  “Let‘s just say I’m eager to be on the road,” Evelyn said. “It‘s ready to go, right?” Her fingers tested the door handle only to find it locked.

  “Just as soon as you pay the bill.” Handy Henry answered, his fingers punching the buttons on a cash register. “New battery should hold you for many a long while.”

  “Thanks,” said Brian, fishing a wad of bills from his wallet as he glanced over the mechanic’s receipt. “We probably seem a little odd–”

  “Not at all,” the man answered. “We get all kinds here.” A bell pinged as the register’s money drawer popped open.

  Evelyn clambered into the passenger seat as if she were making a getaway, not bothering to wait for Brian, who had reached for the handle in a gentlemanly gesture. Her heart pounded with nervous anticipation as she buckled the seat belt.

  “I never thought I would be so glad to see this interior again,” she laughed. “What about you?” Sneaking a peek in Brian’s direction, she let a softness creep into her expression. “I’m sorry if I seem a little anxious. It’s just...” She didn’t finish, trailing off as if the understanding between them was enough explanation.

  He turned the ignition key, listening as the engine roared to life. “Don’t worry about it. We have a client-businessman relationship, remember?”

  The response seemed cold. For a moment she was too surprised to speak, a little stab of pain burying itself in her heart. Pulling the map from her pocketbook, she surveyed its route with seeming indifference to Brian’s words. “We’ll be in Chattanooga by noon,” she said, surveying the small distance between tiny hole-in-the-wall Plain View and a metropolis. “Which means you’ll get the second installment in your payment.” She tested his reaction from the corner of her eye.

  “Great.” But there was no enthusiasm in his tone, his gaze trained on the road in a silent manner tha
t annoyed her. After she opened up last night, was this his only response? The customer-and-cab driver relationship he had resisted from the start?

  Miffed, she refolded the map and gazed out at the road. Humming a little tune under her breath as if hinting for him to join in and recreate the Beatles-inspired moment from before. A hint that seemed lost on Brian, whose fingers only thudded against the air condition vents as they refused to spring to life.

  The scenery stretched on before them for dozens of miles with little variety to break the landscape. As they rounded a bend in the road, a man appeared along the shoulder of the highway. Worn coat with strange patches sewn to the sleeves, a duffel bag at his feet. Thumb raised hopefully in the air as he watched them.

  His wild hair and disheveled beard reminded her slightly of the driver who gave them a ride to Young Norman’s farmhouse. To her surprise, Brian pressed the brake as the man rolled into view, then seemed to think better of it, raising his foot again.

  “We should stop,” she said, surprising herself as much Brian. “I mean, someone did it for us, so it seems like we should try to help.” A flush creeping into her cheeks as he turned a pair of wide, coal black eyes in her direction.

  “Okay.” Checking the rearview mirror, he eased the car onto the shoulder, slowing to a stop as it came alongside the grateful hitchhiker.

  “Thanks a lot folks.”

  Evelyn leaned forward as her seat tilted to accommodate the hitchhiker climbing into the back. Hoisting his duffel bag onto the floorboard, he offered them a friendly grin via the rear view mirror.

  “Name’s Slade,” he said, extending a calloused hand to his rescuers. “And this is my friend Bartleby.” Pulling his jacket aside to reveal a chipmunk nestled in the inside pocket, happily chewing a nut.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Evelyn, eyes glued on the little wild creature in his pocket as she shook Slade’s hand. Not at all sure how comfortable she felt being trapped in a car with a creature of the forest, who might return to his natural state at any moment. Did chipmunks bite? Did they launch rampaging attacks in closed cars?

  “We’re on our way to Chattanooga–” Brian began.

  “Perfect,” Slade answered, with a grin. “That’s just where I’m going. Two paths converge like channels in a raging stream,” he added, drifting suddenly into a solemn haiku. “One of life’s happy accidents.”

  “Un-huh,” said Brian, sending her a skeptical sideways glance, a smile growing evident in the corner of his mouth. “I’m Brian Stoker, by the way. And this is Miss Chase.”

  “Wonderful to meet you both,” said Slade, softly. His voice reminded Evelyn of motivational tapes, a peaceful, melodic quality. “I’ve had a bumpy journey through life so far,” he confided, stroking the chipmunk’s head as he spoke. “Seems one of Nature’s angrier storm systems disrupted the harmony in this part of the country, limiting transportation.”

  “We know.” Evelyn lowered her sunglasses to survey a mangled oak tree along the road, its broken branches spread across the ditch. Evidence the South’s stormy weather may have been here a few days before.

  “It’s the reason we met,” Brian spoke up. She glanced at him in surprise. Where on earth did that come from? He seemed oblivious to Evelyn’s stare as he spoke, eyes flickering from the road to the mirror.

  “That’s most unusual.” Their passenger’s voice held a note of curiosity that made her squirm. “Do you mind telling me how, exactly?”

  “Sure,” said Brian, who launched into the story before Evelyn could stop him. “Miss Chase’s flight was canceled and I happened to be coasting through the airport parking lot. I see she’s in a jam; one thing leads to another and, well…here we are. Total strangers driving across five states in three days.”

  “Inspiring,” Slade declared. “I wish that sort of kindness was more common in our modern society. But things have gotten so sadly misguided; people don’t know how to trust each other anymore.” He hesitated, emitting a gentle cough. “I take it you’ve encountered some ... obstacles along the way?”

  Evelyn blushed, aware he must be referring to their somewhat disheveled state of appearance. “We had a slight breakdown,” she answered. “But we’re making progress now.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Although it worries me a little to see your journey plagued with so much bad karma.” With a benevolent smile, Slade leaned back in his seat.

  Brian snorted. “Bad karma to the limit. First a tornado, then we run out of gas. We ended up in a poultry procession–” he cut off as Evelyn jabbed her elbow against his side.

  Their passenger making a mournful ‘tsk-tsk’ sound. “Perhaps the universe is somewhat averse to this trip of yours. So much misfortune could be a sign, a form of divine intervention even.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Evelyn, with a laugh. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way this trip is destined to fail. It was fate that sent me on it in the first place.” She bit her lip, aware she’d set herself up to tell the story yet again. And to another stranger, which was the last thing she intended to do.

  Family members, yes; her grandchildren someday when she and Jared grew old, of course. But no good had come from her emotional exchanges with friendly strangers thus far.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” Slade answered. “It was only a professional observation. You see, I’m a psychologist with Boston’s New Wave Thinking Journal. The subject of harmony in the universe is part of my conference presentation–to which I am en route as we speak.”

  Was he serious? Or crazy? Evelyn’s first reaction was one of embarrassed dismay, followed by skepticism. She avoided Brian’s gleeful glance as she stared out the window again, allowing the car’s occupants to lapse into awkward silence momentarily.

  “It seems I’ve upset you,” Slade continued in a fretful manner. “A bad habit, really, analyzing every person I meet. Why don’t you drop me just outside the city limits, and I’ll hail a cab?”

  “Nonsense,” said Brian. “We’re more than happy to take you into Chattanooga. Evelyn and I would never leave a fellow romantic stranded, would we Evie?”

  Resisting the urge to smack Brian, she offered the hitchhiker a smile in the mirror–after all, the man had meant well.

  “We’d love for you join us,” she said, her voice completely calm, even cheerful. “It’s our treat.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The psychologist had rattled her conviction about this ex-fiancé’s rescue.

  That was Brian’s foremost thought as the three of them shared a booth in a downtown cafe called The Southern End of the Sea. Where, beneath the noses of waiters and fellow diners, the psychologist slipped peanuts and raisons to the pet chipmunk concealed in his jacket. In between he sampled the platter of shrimp and oysters the waitress placed in front of him; Brian couldn‘t help but notice the wad of bills in the coat pocket opposite the furry creature.

  “Bartleby is quite the connoisseur,” he explained with a chuckle. “He goes on all my travels, samples my meals and shares my lodgings. I call him my writing muse.”

  Seated next to him, Evelyn smiled without seeming to hear what he said. She seemed slightly disconnected from the group, shoving tidbits of her chicken salad around with her fork in a restless manner. Had Brian been asked to guess, he would assume that she was eager to be on the road again.

  But what did it matter, since it was her business if she wanted to waste hundreds of dollars and countless hours chasing an old flame. A flame that might still be burning–or nothing more than a heap of ashes.

  “What about you, Brian?” their guest asked, rousing him back to the present. “Miss Chase has already informed me of her role in the world of fine arts. But your life’s work is still quite the mystery.”

  “You’re looking at it,” he said, clinking his fork against his plate of seafood for emphasis. “One year and counting of culinary art’s training. With the humble intentions of owning a restaurant in the greater New York area.”

  “An admirab
le goal.” Slade glanced between his tablemates, a funny look on his face. “I never imagined you two would have so much in common with each other. But I can see now that you’re both very creative, independent types, with a strong sense of personal identity. The world is full of surprises, no?”

  Evelyn kept her eyes on her plate, a pink flush spreading across her cheeks. No doubt an indignant response to being told they were at all similar.

  “You’re not bad, doc,” Brian quipped, trying to lighten the mood. “That kind of instinct might come in handy at a dating service or maybe a carnival booth. You should consider it for work on the side.”

  Slade laughed. “If I had time, perhaps. But my speech at the conference tomorrow is one of ten public appearances blocked out for my summer calendar.” He took a sip from his glass of mineral water and sighed. “My personal karma limits me in my contact with certain parts of the universe. Always listen to your personal karma; most people are unwilling to believe in what one might call forbidden destiny or flaws, as society calls them.”

  “That must make your work seem challenging,” Evelyn said. Perhaps trying to make up for scoffing at his advice earlier in the car.

  “Yes, indeed.” He turned a serious gaze in her direction. “It’s rather difficult to watch people make the wrong choice, when a chance for happiness is right in front of them.”

  Brian paused, forkful of coleslaw in mid-air, studying the hitchhiker and Evelyn with alternative views. His gaze shuttered again as he turned to his plate.

  “More tea or water?” asked the cheery waitress, whose appearance provided a much-welcome break in the tension.

  “Absolutely,” said Brian, shoving his glass forward. He noticed that Evelyn passed on the offer, though her glass was down to a few half-melted cubes. Probably she didn’t plan on them being here long enough for a second round of beverages.