Читать книгу Two Weddings And A Bride - Anne Eames, Anne Eames - Страница 10
Two
ОглавлениеThe key was in the corner of the window flower box where Becky always kept it. Catherine shook off a clump of dirt and inserted it into the lock. Once inside she shut the door behind her, leaned against it and heard the Jeep pull away. She filled her lungs with air, closed her eyes, and let out a long, slow breath.
No! She wouldn’t think about it now. She had to keep moving. Impatiently tugging at her back zipper, she ran up the stairs. If she hurried maybe she could be out of here before anyone arrived. This would be the first place they’d look.
She found the new smoky blue silk pants and matching top laid out on the bedspread where she’d left them. A pair of white sandals waited at the foot of the bed, a small white leather purse beside them. The dress fell in a heap at her feet, the balled paper in the bodice tumbling loose. She scooped it up and shoved it in her purse, then kicked the dress aside. She continued kicking it as she finished tucking the top into the pants, the phone propped between her ear and shoulder.
A gravelly voice came over the line. “North Oakland Taxi.”
“I’m a block north of Lincoln, east of Woodward. How fast can you get here?”
“Where ya goin’?”
She hadn’t thought that far. Once she was in the cab she’d figure out the next step. For now she’d tell him anything. “Downtown Detroit.”
Catherine gave the address, hung up and did a quick survey of the room. There were a couple of large suitcases by the door and a matching burgundy carry on. Ever since the first time her luggage had been lost on a buying trip three years ago, she’d always packed a change of clothes, swimsuit and all toiletries in her carryon. She eyed the suitcases a moment, remembering the hours of planning and shopping for just the right trousseau. Before the first tear could come she swallowed hard, flung the carryon over her shoulder and ran down the stairs.
For the first time she noticed the glow of a kitchen light and the note left on the counter. She looked out the front door. No sign of the cab yet. She debated a second, then headed for the note knowing what to expect.
The short message began “Dearest Cat and TJ—I’m so happy for both of you.” She turned the single page facedown and picked up the pen left beside it.
“Becky, have to be alone for a while—sure you understand. Please call Mom and Dad—tell them I’m okay.” A horn sounded out front and she scribbled a last line. “Tell them I’ll call tomorrow. Love, Cat.”
She flew down the walk and slid into the back of the cab. “Head south on Woodward. I’ll let you know where in a minute.”
Where could she go? Any decent hotel would do, but she wasn’t in the mood for a quiet, empty room. What sounded better was a noisy room full of strangers—someplace where she could get a good, stiff drink and feel sorry for herself. She opened her eyes and stared blindly at the passing blur of commercial buildings.
They were south of Twelve Mile Road before they caught a red light. The cabbie jerked to a stop, and she turned to see the flashing neon outline of a big cat just ahead.
Before she could think it through she heard herself say, “Let me out here.”
He pulled to the curb, braking hard, then turned to face her. “Ya sure about this?”
The meter read eight and a quarter. She slapped a ten into his hand, got out and the cab sped off. She hesitated at the entrance to the bar. Given her current choices she slung open the heavy wooden door and strode in.
Just as she suspected, a country-western band was keeping two-steppers happy in the center of the room. On the perimeter, boot-stomping spectators kept time at beercluttered tables. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she was in Texas instead of Motown.
Slowly awakening from culture shock, she noted a few curious glances at her nondenim attire and shoulder-strap carryon. Self-conscience, she sauntered over to the bar on the right where a man she guessed to be in his late fifties sat in a wheelchair at the far end. There was an empty seat next to him. It appeared as safe of a place as any so she headed toward it.
“Excuse me,” she said, raising her voice over a nearby speaker. “Is anyone sitting here?”
The man smiled up at her. “You, I hope.”
The same words from anyone else might have sent her in the opposite direction, but this was the voice of a gentleman, one she sensed wanted a little company and nothing more. “Thank you.” She pulled out the stool and sat down.
Her gaze drifted slowly over the crowd, looking for that one familiar face. Why? she asked herself. Thought you wanted to be alone in a roomful of strangers? She continued to look, taking her time, telling herself it was something to do. Anything was better than thinking about the disaster she’d just left behind.
She thought about Jake for a second, remembering his rugged good looks—sun-streaked sandy hair that swept back from windburned cheeks and hung a couple inches below his too-tight collar. She kept searching, smiling at a sudden thought. He must have felt as out of place at the Townsend Hotel in his suit as she felt here in her designer silk.
Catherine scanned the entire room twice, then gave up, feeling an unexpected disappointment. She swiveled around and rested her elbows on the padded rolled edge of the table-high bar. Curious about the unusual height, she looked to her right and noticed taller stools and the traditionally higher counter at the opposite end. Interesting. Was this end designed for the handicapped? she wondered. Or was the split level simply a decorator’s idea to create a little interest. Whichever, she decided she liked it. She turned and smiled at the man in the wheelchair thinking he must like it, too. Then she let out a long sigh and glanced at her watch.
“Bartender!” The man shouted. “This pretty gal down here looks thirsty.”
Catherine stole a quick peek at his chair and noticed there were no legs hanging from beneath the brown cardigan draped across his lap. She wondered what misfortune had scarred this poor man’s life, but before she could think about it further, she saw a long, tanned arm slide a cocktail napkin in front of her.
“Well, well…slumming it tonight?”
Catherine looked up. “Jake!” She tried to hide the sudden rush of pleasure she felt at seeing him, but she wasn’t sure she pulled it off. What was he doing behind the bar? His suit coat and tie were gone, shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow.
“What can I get you?” He was smiling coyly, probably relishing her discomfort, she thought, remembering her snobby remark about this place earlier. Determined to act as if this were any other night, that nothing unusual had happened, she forced a smile and answered his question.
“Something cold, wet and fattening. Surprise me.” Jake flashed the okay sign and left. She stared after him a moment, then looked back to the man in the chair. His forehead was creased with curiosity.
“You know Jake?” he asked. “Don’t remember seeing you here before.”
“I’m not what you’d call a regular.” She swiveled toward him, still a little rattled at finding Jake behind the bar. “We just sort of ran into each other earlier. He said he might stop off here, but I didn’t realize he had to work.”
“He doesn’t have to…he wants to.”
She was about to ask what he meant when Jake returned.
“Here you go. Baileys on the rocks.”
She took a generous taste, then rolled her tongue over her lips. “Mmmm…good stuff.” She stared into his dark eyes, trying to read what was behind them. “How did you know I’d like Baileys?”
“After you do this job for as many years as I have, you know.”
Jake wandered down to the other end of the bar and Catherine’s shoulders sagged. Great! She just got dumped by a successful lawyer and she can’t think of anyone she’d rather be with than a career bartender. What sick twist of fate brought her to these crossroads? Behind her, the fiddler went crazy while the female vocalist drawled her sad lament. Catherine swirled her ice cubes and stared into the milky brown liquid. Maybe coming here wasn’t a good idea after all.
“I thought Jake was at a wedding tonight,” the man next to her said.
Catherine kept her face forward and took another sip before answering. “He was. The party ended early.” She played with her straw, then bit the end of it. Maybe if she went outside and let out a primal scream she’d feel better.
“Oh…then you were there, too, huh?”
A low chuckle emerged from the back of her throat. “Oh, yeah…I was there.” For the first time she tried to picture Jake at the reception. She thought she remembered him dancing near her once with a much older woman. She rotated her stool, deciding to take her mind off herself and fish for a few details. “You seem to know a lot about Jake. Was that his mother with him at the wedding?”
The gray-haired man shook his head, the smile leaving his eyes. “Not likely!” After a slight lapse, he said, “You must be talking about his Aunt Helen.”
Jake called down from the other end, “Ready for another Coke, Sarge?”
“Sure. And bring another for…” He looked at her and cocked an eyebrow.
“Catherine…Catherine Mason,” she said and smiled.
“…bring another for Catherine here. She’s dry.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Catherine.” The fleeting distraction she’d seen in his eyes a moment earlier had vanished, the twinkle returned. “If I had a couple good legs, I’d ask you to dance. Used to be pretty good at the two-step. Can you two-step?”
She laughed. “Afraid not.” She shook her head and laughed again at the mere idea. Then without much forethought she heard herself broach the delicate subject, embarrassed before she opened her mouth, but liberated by the accumulative effects of champagne and Baileys. “Sarge. Take it your name means you were in the army?” He nodded and she braved the next question. “Is that how…?” She looked down at his chair, then quickly back to his face and its pragmatic expression.
“Vietnam…another lifetime ago.”
Jake reappeared with their drinks and for a brief moment she thought she saw a silent exchange between the two men. In a flash, Jake was busy with another customer, acting as though she didn’t exist.
“So, Catherine, what do you do for a living?” Just like that, the subject of the war was over and the focus was back on her.
“I’m a buyer for Mason’s.” It was definitely time to leave.
“Buyer of clothes?” He was reassessing what she wore now.
She thought of the store, then co-worker Mary Beth—her last-minute substitute bridesmaid. She leaned her elbows on the bar. “That and other things.”
“By the looks of it, I’d say you must do well at your job.” He drank more Coke, then looked at the dance floor. Suddenly he waved his arm high in the air and motioned someone over, a look of recognition lighting his lined face. “Charlie! How you doin’?” he shouted over the guitar twang.
A good-looking cowboy about Jake’s age sauntered over. Charlie patted Sarge on the back, then pumped his hand vigorously. “Doin’ fine, Sarge. And you?”
“Couldn’t be better.” He looked at Catherine and extended his arm. “This here is Catherine. She’s a friend of Jake’s.”
Before she could dispute the “friend of Jake’s” line, Charlie grabbed her hand and shook it, a little more gently, and said howdy.
Sarge asked, “Got a date tonight, Charlie?”
“Nah. Just me and the boys.”
“Then why don’t you show Catherine here howda two-step. Jake’s kinda busy and I’m not much fun.”
Charlie took a step closer. With a smile wider than Texas, he extended his hand, palm up, and said, “Love to!”
“Oh, no!” Catherine shook her head and her hair flew side to side. “I couldn’t, but thanks for the offer.”
Charlie looked down at her left hand. “I see.”
She followed his gaze, stopping at the new diamondstudded band sparkling on her third finger. The anger she’d been denying for more than an hour finally broke the surface. In one quick motion she jerked off the ring and shoved it in her pants pocket. When she looked up the men were exchanging a knowing look.
“It’s…it’s not what you think,” she stammered. Neither of them looked convinced, but she wasn’t about to explain. Instead she stood and pressed her fists to her thighs. It was time to move. One way or the other, she had to expel this mounting energy raging behind her ribs. Her gaze darted to the door, then to the bustling dance floor. This place might not be the answer, but it beat standing alone on Woodward Avenue after dark.
She looked back at Charlie with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. He eyed her warily. She’d probably regret this in the morning, but what the hell. She could add it to the list. “Is that dance lesson still open?”
Jake watched the pair laughing and twirling around on the dance floor, a sense of déjà vu stabbing at his gut. They’d been at it now for over an hour. What was she trying to do? Rub it in his face? Tease and flaunt until he jumped over the bar, picked her up and carried her off kicking and screaming? He dried the same glass for the third time, then slammed it down on the counter.
Damn! What was the matter with him? He had no claim on this woman. Besides, she barely knew he was alive. She was simply here to forget her troubles like everyone else in the place. Under the circumstances how could he blame her?
The band took a break and Jake watched Catherine lead Charlie back to Sarge, who seemed to be having a vicarious good time. More than once since Catherine arrived, Jake thought about telling the old guy what happened to her tonight, but discretion won out.
He checked his watch: one-thirty. Time for last call. By the sway in Catherine’s walk he hoped she didn’t ask for another. Between dances she’d been slamming back Baileys as if they were milk shakes.
Jake walked over to Tom at the service bar. “Mind closing up alone?”
“No problem, Jake. Thanks for sticking around. When Tim called in sick I thought I’d be stuck here alone all night. I owe ya one, guy.”
“I’ll remember that.” Jake smiled, patting Tom on the shoulder before heading back to the trio at the other end. Charlie was hanging over Catherine, practically drooling, and Sarge was laughing heartily at something she’d said.
Trying to appear uninterested, Jake strolled out from behind the bar. He stopped behind Charlie and spoke softly near his ear. “Too bad you have to leave now, my friend.”
Charlie looked over his shoulder ready to protest when he met Jake’s direct stare. Jake glanced in Catherine’s direction, then quickly back to Charlie. Charlie got the message. Loud and clear.
“See ya around, Sarge, Catherine,” Charlie said, his disappointment showing.
Catherine turned abruptly and looked up. For a moment Jake thought she might fall off the stool. “You can’t go, Charlie. Who am I going to dance with?”
Jake stepped between them and took her hand as the band began its last short set. “Guess you’ll have to settle for me.” He gave her a not-too-gentle tug and she stumbled behind him onto the dance floor. When he spun around to face her he pulled her close and she landed hard against the length of him, but not without a giggle.
She snuggled her head against his shoulder and made a mewing noise into his chest. Her arm was draped loosely around his neck. It felt as though she might fall asleep any second. He tightened his grip, knowing he should take her home, but enjoying the feel of her far too much to leave.
It was hot under the dance floor lights, just as it had been hot in the church earlier, but a chill passed through him when he pictured her then…and now in his arms. What was it about this woman that made him feel so protective? He’d seen enough to know she could take care of herself. Still…
The slow dance ended and as much as he wanted another he stepped back. He caught her hand in his when it slid off his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and she was listing to port. Gently he turned her toward Sarge, slipping his arm around her shoulder and guiding her back to her stool. When they arrived, Catherine made no effort to move. With his arm still around her Jake shuffled his feet in front of Sarge, feeling like an adolescent on his first date. He cleared his throat.
“I’m going to take this young lady home. Need a ride?”
“Nope. Charlie’s bringing his car around. Said he’d give me a lift.” He waved Jake off with the back of his hand and a sly wink. Jake picked up Catherine’s white purse and turned her toward the door. Halfway there Catherine stopped.
“Carryon…I brought a carryon….”
Jake looked over his shoulder and saw the burgundy bag under the stool. “Stay right here. I’ll get it.” Jake propped her against a wall and walked back.
Charlie had returned and was unlocking Sarge’s wheelchair. He stopped and poked Jake in the side with an elbow. In a stage whisper, he said, “I do all the work. You get all the fun.”
Another time, another woman, Jake might have let Charlie think what he wanted. “It’s not how it looks, buddy. Someday I’ll fill you in.” With that, he returned to Catherine and slowly eased her outside and into his Jeep.
About a mile up the road she finally spoke. “Didn’t we do this part already?”
He glanced at her quickly. Her eyes were closed, head tilted back, hair blowing helter-skelter.
Before he could comment, she said, “I like your Jeep.” From the corner of his eye he could see her turn toward him. “And I like you too, Jake. You’re a nice guy…you know that?”
He wanted to believe she meant it and would remember her words tomorrow, but he knew it was the booze talking now.
“Where we going?” she asked, not sounding as if she really cared.
“Toot’s Diner. I need some chow and you need some coffee.”
Another mile and he pulled into the restaurant parking lot, hopped out and ran to the other side before his passenger could fall on her face trying to maneuver on her own. She accepted his hand with a teasing smile and fell against him.
“Oops!” She giggled and righted herself.
When they slid into the booth nearest the door a minute later, Jake saw a waitress eyeing him. She came over with a pair of menus and shot him a judgmental look. Why is it all women assume the guy is some lech ready to pounce on some poor, helpless female? This female was hardly helpless. And by the looks of everything, not poor, either. He shoved the menus aside and ignored them along with the waitress’s scowl.
“We’ll have a couple orders of eggs, ham and toast. Make mine overeasy with rye.” He looked at Catherine. Her eyes were at half-mast; she seemed dazed. “How do you want yours?”
“Scrambled. Whole wheat,” she said in a monotone.
The waitress started to leave. Jake called after her. “And lots of coffee, please…soon.” She looked back, her lips a hard, straight line. Jake winked and flashed a toothy smile.
Catherine didn’t say a word. She slumped deeper in the booth, the back of her head pressed against the cushion, a cheek resting on her shoulder. Jake watched her doze, wondering if he should wake her and force some coffee down, or let her sleep. When the aroma of hot food and the noise of sliding plates didn’t budge her, he decided he had to say something.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty. Chow time.” He drank his coffee and watched her come around. She looked ghastly. Her complexion matched the pale green upholstery. He’d seen the signs often enough to know what was coming. Sure enough, she struggled to an upright position and moaned aloud, clasping her head with both hands. She took one whiff of the food, then slid quickly from the booth.
Jake pointed. “Down that hall, on the right.” He watched her snake a path to the ladies’ room and debated whether he should follow. Nah. There were some things a person preferred doing in private.
Ten minutes later Jake was just about to send the waitress in after her when Catherine emerged. Her mascara was smudged, her face wet and pale, but she walked straighter than when she’d left. It’d been years since he’d pulled such a stunt, but he remembered the feeling all too well.
She avoided his eyes when she slid back into the booth and reached for her water. She took a sip, then looked at him sheepishly. “Do I look as bad as I feel?”
“Not quite.” Jake dipped the corner of a napkin into his water glass. He leaned across and started wiping away the black from beneath her lashes. She inched forward, staring back at him with such a soulful look that he wanted to slide in beside her, crush her against him and never let her go. Now he wished he’d gone back and taught Studly a lesson he’d never forget. How could any man throw away a woman like this?
When he tossed the napkin aside, Catherine grasped his hand with both of hers. For the first time he saw a hint of moisture pooling above her lower lashes. He watched, certain tears would spill any second, but they didn’t.
She raised her chin and blinked them back, then spoke in a barely audible whisper. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She picked up a piece of toast and started nibbling at it, testing the waters. When that worked she had some coffee and a little more toast, then more coffee. Eventually she looked at him and caught his smile. “What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Come on. What were you thinking?” She smiled a weary smile, leaning heavily on her left elbow.
“I was thinking ‘She’s probably still drunk, but at least she’s a wide-awake drunk.’”
“Very funny.”
“You asked.”
“So…where do we go now?”
He liked the sound of the word we. “I was just going to ask you that question.”
She fell silent a moment, looking as if she hadn’t the foggiest notion. “I don’t want to go home, that’s for sure.” She pushed her plate aside, eggs untouched, and nursed her coffee. The waitress dropped the check on the table and scurried off. Catherine reached it first. Jake tugged at it but she wouldn’t let go.
“No. I insist,” she said, challenging him with an unexpected show of energy. She pulled it to her chest, then began rooting around inside her purse. A bulging envelope blocked her path. Annoyed, she slapped it on the table and continued foraging until she found some bills. She was about to return the envelope to her purse when she stopped, a look of inspiration spreading across her face. Then she tossed the opened envelope in front of Jake, encouraging him to read the contents with a wave of her hand.
“That’s where we’re going!” Seeming pleased with herself, she slid from the booth and headed for the cashier. Jake read enough to satisfy his curiosity, then scrambled to catch up with her. She’d already paid the tab and was on the way out the door. Without breaking stride she called over her shoulder, “What time is it?”
“Almost three-thirty.”
“We have to be at the airport at five-thirty.” She stopped alongside the Jeep and spun around, loosing her balance momentarily. Looking panicky, she studied his features. “Hair’s a little lighter and longer, but it’ll work.” She breathed a sigh of relief and jumped into the passenger seat.
Caught up in her enthusiasm Jake hustled to the other side and slid in.
“Do you live close by?” she asked breathlessly.
“Yes, but…”
She turned and faced him squarely, folding her arms in a mix of impatience and determination. “Look, Jake,” she started, looking angry. “It’s too late to change the name on everything. TJ’s birth certificate and photo ID are in the envelope. All you have to do is memorize his birth date and address. How difficult can that be?”
Nonplussed, Jake stared at her.
She relaxed her hands in her lap and smiled at him imploringly. “Well? Do you want to go to Jamaica with me or not?”
Jake turned the key in the ignition.