Читать книгу Promises To Keep - Shirley Hailstock, Shirley Hailstock - Страница 11
ОглавлениеSUNLIGHT HADN’T BEGUN to paint the horizon when McKenna hit the button and the garage door started its upward trek. Her heart thumped. After three years of working, testing, searching for parts and finally getting everything to work in unison, she was beginning her journey today.
McKenna slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The Corvette purred to life. Putting it in gear, she checked the mirrors and looked over her shoulder, ready to back out.
But her heart jumped into her throat and she stomped on the brake. The small car shrieked to a stop. McKenna threw it in Park and sprang out of the driver’s seat.
“Parker Fordum, what the hell are you doing here?”
He sauntered toward her. Getting too close and standing in her personal space, he looked down on her. “I thought you’d try something like this,” he said.
“Something like what?”
“Like leaving ahead of schedule. Like disappearing without a word. Like getting your butt into more trouble than you can get out of.”
“Well, who asked you to come along? I’m going by myself. Now get out of my way.”
He stood in the middle of the driveway. McKenna went back to the car and got in the driver’s seat. Before she could start the engine, Parker pulled up the passenger seat, dumped his duffle bag in the small space behind and climbed into the passenger seat.
“The car looks great.” He smiled genuinely. “Will it ride as smoothly as it did in the ’60s?”
Exasperated, she glanced behind her. His duffel bag used up more than the available space, pushing his seat slightly forward. And giving McKenna a view of his profile.
“Parker, get out. Go away. I don’t need you.”
“I’m going with you,” he stated as if it was a foregone conclusion.
“No, you’re not.”
“I promised Lydia I’d take care of you. Now, you have two choices.”
“Which are?”
“I weigh about 180. You can try to hoist me out of here and drive off alone.” He dropped his chin and looked at her with a doubting-Thomas expression. “I doubt you can do that, even with all the ingenuity Lydia tells me you have. Or you can back out of this garage and head for LA with me. Your choice.”
“Parker, we agreed yesterday that you were not coming with me.”
“No, yesterday I decided not to argue the point. It wasn’t going to make a difference, so why go through the effort.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t want you with me.”
“Because I don’t argue?”
“Yes, and because you’re not a companion. You’re just someone taking up a seat.”
For a long moment he said nothing. McKenna thought she’d gone too far. She didn’t usually insult people. It wouldn’t be good for business. And it wasn’t her personality.
Finally he spoke, repeating, “You have two choices.”
“I have one more choice,” she said, pulling the key out of the ignition. “I can stay here.”
He nodded. “That, too. But if you think you’re going to wait me out, I’ve already thought of that. I’ll park my SUV right in front of your garage. You can’t get this baby...” He looked approvingly at the upholstery. “Out of the garage without me knowing it. So you might be able to outsmart me and leave some other way, but it won’t be in this car.” Again he looked at the Corvette, checking the back over his shoulder. “She is a beaut. If she drives as well as she looks, I take my hat off to you. Lydia told me you built it from the ground up.”
“I’m not here to listen to your compliments.” McKenna sighed and propped her elbow on the open window, resting her chin in her hand.
“What’s it going to be? The road or breakfast? I’m hungry.”
McKenna got out of the car and went through the laundry room door into the house. Rage surged through her, giving her an instant headache. This is not how she had planned to begin her trip. Excitement had soared through her system last night. It was difficult to fall asleep. Details of her impromptu plan had run through her mind like a relay team handing off a baton, one runner after another. When she did sleep her dreams were peppered with images of Parker and Marshall. And now here Parker was, in the flesh, making her crazy.
She stood in her kitchen feeling useless. What was she going to do? She could try waiting him out. He had to get tired of blocking her driveway soon. But the determination with which he’d said he was going told her he was serious. She could call the police and report him as a trespasser. She wasn’t without friends on the force, but then Parker also had his contingent of buddies, too. One of the drawbacks of living in a small town.
She was going, she told herself decisively. This was her life and she wasn’t going to let him spoil it. Turning quickly, she walked back to the garage. Parker was sitting where she’d left him, tapping away on a laptop computer. He’d apparently adjusted his duffel bag, since the seat now sat flush with the back of the car. His apparent nonchalance angered her further. He really was a stick in the mud and a stubborn one at that.
“All right,” she said, holding back none of the venom from her voice. “You can go.”
He didn’t look up from his work.
“But there are rules.”
“Rules?” He continued to focus on the screen.
“This is my trip and we go with my decisions. You don’t question them and you don’t try to overrule me. This is not a vacation and we’re not a couple.”
He nodded, still not looking at her. McKenna wanted to grab the computer from him and snap it closed. He was not going to spoil her plan, she told herself. She’d spent years building this car. She was ready. Every detail had been planned up to this day. From here to the end, it was life as it came. She hated to admit it, but Parker had now become part of the life as it came scheme.
Opening the door to the car, McKenna slid into her seat. Parker closed the laptop and turned to her. “I have some rules, too,” he stated.
Surprised, she opened her mouth to say something, but before she could speak, he continued. “First, you will afford me the same respect that you would give to Lydia. You will talk to me with the same tone of voice that you would if she were here instead of me. I’m not going to go 2,400 miles fighting all the way. And don’t...” He stopped her when she was again about to say something. “Don’t tell me to stay here, because that’s a decision that has already been made.”
McKenna was taken aback. She’d never heard Parker speak with such force. Deep down it excited her to know he had a backbone somewhere. She’d always thought of him as weak and quiet, interested in nothing but being a dull college professor. Yet he really lived too well for that. At least, too well to subsist on a professor’s salary.
His home was huge and he drove a late-model SUV with custom appointments. He also had a sleek sports car that he roared along the highway in. McKenna had seen him once when she was on her way out of town.
“All right,” she conceded. She had been rude to him and that wasn’t like her.
He smiled. The moment held for a second longer than necessary. Then Parker quit it when he turned back in his seat and opened his computer.
“There’s one more thing,” McKenna said. She couldn’t believe she was about to say this, especially to a man she didn’t even like. “If we’re going to be together for most of the hours of the day, you can’t just sit there like a silent rock.”
“You want me to talk to you?” he asked, looking at her.
“Not especially. But if you’re going to go with me, I don’t want to be the driver and you the professor critiquing me the entire way.” She shifted in her seat. “Parker, this is the trip of a lifetime. It’s a chance to see a part of the world in a way we haven’t seen it before. It isn’t about driving. It’s about the landscape, the countryside, talking to people, enjoying what God gave us.” And learning about ourselves. The last she kept to herself.
“You’re asking a lot of a restored car and an old road. Are you sure that’s the real reason?”
McKenna hesitated and then decided to tell him the truth. “It’s not the entire reason. It’s about me, too. Who I am.”
He frowned.
“I’m not going into any further explanation. It’s personal, but I want to find something in myself that I’ve lost. Can you understand that? Don’t just let the scenery go by without giving it a look.”
After a minute, he nodded. She felt as if he was going to reach out and touch her. But he didn’t.
For a moment she was both grateful and disappointed. It had been three years since a man had touched her. Except for bumping into Parker a few days ago and finding his arms holding her, she’d hadn’t been close to a man. That small incident had reminded her that she missed it.
“Well, McKenna Wellington, it’s time to start your engine.”
* * *
IT DIDN’T TAKE long for the busy downtown streets of Chicago to morph into the rolling hills and open spaces of the countryside. It took longer for them to reach it, however. If McKenna had left on time, she’d have missed rush hour traffic. But her spat with Parker delayed her and she and Parker had to negotiate the bumper-to-bumper medley to get to the beginning of the journey. But they were on it now.
And her anger was almost gone. Her argument with Parker had given her a headache, but it was easing now. She’d forced herself to relax, forced her shoulders down and her breathing to return to normal. She’d even begun to play a silent game with the license tags on vehicles that passed her. It was something she used to do with her parents when they went on vacations. McKenna learned a lot of words and it was fun to stump her parents.
She smiled while remembering that as a tag went by with the letters F-T-R on it. Immediately she thought of the word father. After that the words came quickly and her headache was soon forgotten.
Parker hadn’t said much since she started driving, but he also hadn’t opened his computer and resumed his editing job. McKenna began to feel bad. She wasn’t usually angry at people. It was only around Parker that her temper seemed to get the better of her.
She searched for something to say. They had little in common. He was friends with Marshall, although McKenna could never figure out why the two liked each other. Marshall was outgoing, fun loving and always up for a challenge. Parker was the stay-at-home type. He categorized everything, didn’t speak much, at least not to her, and judged everyone and everything.
“Are you planning to teach in September?” McKenna finally asked.
“I am on the schedule,” he said.
“Suppose we’re not back by then?”
He glanced at her. “Still trying to get rid of me?”
“That’s not it,” she lied. She did want to get rid of him, but figured that plan was now dead. “I have no particular timetable I’m working with. I’m free as a bird and winging my way wherever the wind blows.” She tossed her hair to one side, suddenly feeling the exhilaration of the journey.
“If we’re still out on the road by then, I’ll make the decision to either leave you high and dry or get someone to cover my classes.”
He was smiling when McKenna looked at him, but she couldn’t read his face. McKenna had always avoided Parker. He and Marshall often arranged to meet at a restaurant or Marshall would go to his place and pick him up when they went out. Now she couldn’t tell if he was being facetious or serious.
He checked his watch. Then he pulled out his cell phone.
“Who are you calling?” she asked.
“I thought I’d check on Lydia. She should be awake by now.”
McKenna reached over and took the phone from him. She turned it off and dropped it in the unused ash tray.
“Why did you do that?”
“No cell phones, except in emergencies. We’re out of touch with everyone. If there’s an emergency, someone else will have to deal with it.”
“But I promised Lydia I’d call.”
“She’s going to be fine. We both heard the doctor say so. I ordered flowers to be sent to her this morning with a card that said I was leaving today. She’ll know why you didn’t call. And even if you did, what could you do?”
“You can’t honestly expect to drive all these miles without using a phone.”
“Why can’t I?”
“Suppose you need something? Don’t you have to check in occasionally and let people back home know you’re all right?”
“No one needs to know unless there’s an emergency. We can use pay phones if necessary. But I don’t want to be pulled into the minutia of life back in Woodbine Heights. If something’s going on there we can’t fix it.”
“You’re a real surprise, you know that?”
“What do you mean?” McKenna asked. Her stomach clenched, ready for another of his compliments couched in a joke.
“I never would have thought anyone like you would try doing what you’re doing.”
“What do you mean, ‘anyone like me’?”
“Don’t get your back up. I mean you always appeared so grounded, so much a person who knew where everything was. When you were running the company after Marshall’s death, from what Lydia told me, you were a perfect CEO, dealing with projections and next year’s forecast, new products and all the duties that come with being in charge. Now you’re driving off into the sunset with no set plan and only a few maps.”
He looked in the small pocket in the door. McKenna had stashed the maps there.
“What is this?” She pulled a plastic container from the side of his seat.
“A DVD cover. Lydia gave me the entire set.”
“Of Route 66?”
He nodded. “She was going to watch the old TV series, maybe duplicate Tod and Buz and their adventures in their red-and-white Corvette. She thought if I watched them it would make the trip more interesting. I loaded them on my computer.”
“Tod and Buz?” McKenna raised her eyebrows.
“The characters’ names in the series. Two guys, traveling the southwest and living off the land. Every episode was an adventure.”
“That’s right,” McKenna said.
“And you’re on your own adventure now?” he asked.
“I guess this means we both are.”
“So which one are you, Tod or Buz?”
McKenna smiled for the first time. “Since you’re the guest here, you should choose first,” she said.
“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “This is your fantasy. And I know nothing about Buz or Tod. You choose first.”
“Tod was the sensible one. He was blond and logical, always thinking the situation through.”
“Like a CEO?”
She nodded.
“So Buz was the dark angel? The one who shot first and discussed it later.”
“Right!”
“I guess that makes you...”
“Buz,” she answered for him.
He laughed, a hearty, belly laugh that McKenna found very pleasing. But then she remembered Marshall’s laugh and it reminded her that she would never hear it again.
And part of the reason for that was Parker.
* * *
IT HAD STARTED ALREADY, McKenna acknowledged. She sat up straighter, mentally shaking herself.
Parker had begun to talk. The two of them had had a civil conversation. McKenna couldn’t remember that ever being the case. They’d passed each other or avoided each other for years. Now she was sitting next to him, close enough to feel his body heat and smell his cologne. Who would have thought he even wore cologne? Or that he’d speak to her as if they were friends.
They pulled into a gas station and restaurant in Litchfield, Illinois. The Belvidere Café, Motel and Gas Station was closed and the building decaying, the pumps gone, but McKenna recognized it from her research. Only the café remained. The sign on it was faded and worn. Awnings, sporting areas of rust, hung over the windows.
She got out of the car and walked toward the brown-and-tan brick one-story building. Her feet crunched on the gravel path that had once led to a parking lot and motel rooms. Not even a ghost of them remained.
“At this rate,” Parker said. “It’ll take months to get to the coast.”
She looked at him. “Yes, it will,” was all she said.
Pulling a camera from the back of her seat, she took photographs from every angle.
“Are you planning to write a book with all these photos?”
She snapped one of Parker. Moving the camera down so she could see his life-size image, she said, “They are only for my benefit. Memories of the trip.”
Parker smiled, at least McKenna thought it was a smile. His lips pulled apart, but he said nothing, scrutinizing the building as if it had become more important thing in the world in the past three seconds.
“Give me the camera. I’ll take one of you next to the building.”
She did as he suggested, then went to stand below the faded sign.
“Not there,” Parker directed. “Over here.” He pointed to the space next to the building’s single step. She moved to where he indicated. “I can get the sign and you and the building at the same time.”
McKenna wondered if she should smile. She decided to do so. This was a fun trip and she felt as if they were getting somewhere, even if they were only an hour out of Chicago.
She heard the click of the shutter opening and closing.
“Don’t move,” he said as she began to come forward. “I’ll get a few more. The building is interesting, now that I’ve had a chance to look at it.”
Parker took several more shots before McKenna stopped him. She offered to take photos of him, but he declined.
Turning to focus on the building, McKenna thought of Marshall. This should have been his trip, their trip together. She’d considered taking it with him. The two of them had talked about it. Yet somehow the business always came first, except— McKenna stopped as Parker walked into her view. She frowned.
Parker had been with Marshall last. The ski trip. McKenna didn’t like skiing. She was pretty good at ice-skating, but she felt the huge skis were unwieldy. And she hadn’t wanted to be around Parker. So the two men had gone off together.
But only one had come back.
“McKenna!”
She jolted at the strength of Parker’s voice.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his tone calmer.
“Fine,” she said. He must have seen the look on her face. Thankfully he couldn’t read her thoughts. At least she hoped he couldn’t.
“You looked as if you were thinking of something painful.”
“It’s just the sun.” She squinted at the sky. The sun was high and bright, although it wasn’t the cause of her pain.
“Maybe we should get something to eat or drink,” Parker suggested.
“Are you hungry already?” she asked.
“Not especially, but I would like something to drink.”
McKenna had a small cooler behind her seat. It held six small bottles of water. She didn’t mention it.
“Good idea,” she said.
“Wow, what a car,” someone said from behind Parker.
McKenna whipped around. A short man with white hair and an even whiter beard stood next to the Corvette. He was dressed in worn but clean jeans and a T-shirt bearing the faded logo of a Budweiser beer can.
“I haven’t seen one of these in ages,” he said. “You folks driving The 66?”
McKenna had never heard the road referred to as The 66 before.
“We are,” Parker replied.
“In this?” He indicated the car, admiration evident in his tone.
“That’s our intention,” McKenna stated.
His eyes came up, but his head didn’t move. He reminded McKenna of a professor she once had who looked over his glasses more than through them. He was the one who told her she had no aptitude for mechanical drawing.
“Where’d you get this? Hasn’t been made for years.”
“Decades,” McKenna corrected.
“The lady—”
“My husband and I planned it.”
She and Parker had spoken at the same time. McKenna was unsure why that happened. Marshall had been on her mind and the words were out before she thought about it.
He looked at Parker. “No stuff?” he asked.
“None,” Parker smiled, but did not correct the mistake.
Still, McKenna decided, she liked the man.
“In my youth, I used to work on cars. Lived back in Detroit then. Ford was my company. Never worked on one of these babies.” Again the man looked at the car as if it was a past lover.
“Any idea what the road looks like ahead of us?” Parker asked. Apparently the pragmatist was rising to the surface again.
“It’ll be all right for a few miles, but be careful. With a low car like this, you could pull the chassis right out from under her.”
“We will,” Parker said.
Both shook hands with the man and got in the car. He waited until they drove away. McKenna saw him still standing in place until the car turned the corner several blocks away. Not far from the Belvidere was the Ariston Café, also on Route 66, although the facade was reminiscent of The Alamo in San Antonio. The café had opened its doors in 1935 and was still operating.
After the photo session, which McKenna repeated, she and Parker had lunch there before getting on the road and continuing their journey. During their meal, they didn’t mention the subject that was on McKenna’s mind. She wondered if Parker thought of it, too.
When they were back in the Corvette, she finally brought it up.
“Back there,” she began, not indicating where she meant on the road behind them or any of the places they had been since beginning this journey. “When the old man assumed you were my husband.”
He glanced at her. Since McKenna was driving, she couldn’t look at him for more than a second.
“Why didn’t you correct him?” she asked.
For a while, Parker didn’t say anything. McKenna glanced at him twice.
“He kept talking and he was so admiring the car, I didn’t think anything of it. Did it bother you?”
“No,” she said. It wasn’t exactly the truth.
“Why did you bring it up, then?”
“Well,” she hedged. “I thought it was the polite thing to do.”
“Then I’d have to explain to someone not of our generation that we were traveling companions, but not lovers.”
This was not going the way she assumed it would. McKenna was sorry she’d made a point of it.
“You don’t think he’d understand?”
“I don’t think he’d believe it.”
“Why not?”
Parker didn’t reply. When coaxed, he said. “Let’s just say, you should look in the mirror once in a while.”
McKenna was still wondering what he meant by that when the sun was going down. She knew he was married and divorced. She felt slightly uncomfortable that he hadn’t spoken up to correct the old man’s impression of them, but then, neither had she. And she had no reason that explained her own silence.
“Are we going to drive during the night?” Parker interrupted her thoughts. “Or only while there’s daylight?”
“During the day,” she said. “I want to see what can be seen and not have to wonder about the road.”
“Good idea. Glad we’re on the same page with that,” Parker said.
* * *
PARKER MARVELED AT the feel of the car. He understood why people stopped them on the street and in parking lots to admire the beauty of this creation. What they didn’t know was what it felt like to sit behind the wheel, to drive this vehicle, to know what it meant to hug the road and corner a turn as if the car was one with the pavement. Parker felt confined with the speed limit. He wanted to open the engine up, give it its due and let it go as fast as it could.
He thought of McKenna that night on the practice track. Her face glowed under the lamp lights as she emerged from this car. Parker had never been one for most of the things men liked in life, but he loved cars. The moment he saw it sitting on the track, he knew it was something he wanted to drive.
The day was clear, and the road was theirs. If he and McKenna never agreed on anything, this car was definitely a point where they could come together. Checking on her, he saw she was watching the road. For both of them, Route 66 was a new experience. The top was down on the car and Parker felt the breeze.
* * *
THE ROAD WASN’T as bad as McKenna expected it would be, but they weren’t far from Chicago yet. She’d studied maps and checked on the internet, but there was no telling if they were current. Weather from the past winter could have washed part of the blacktop away or completely broken it into shards of gravel. There was also snowplow damage and the destructive Midwestern wind.
The speed limit was lower than the highway speed, so if there was something in their way, they would likely see it in enough time to avoid it. At least she could. She didn’t know about Parker, but Marshall had told her he was a competent driver.
Maybe, she thought. She had yet to experience it. He sat silently next to her tapping keys on a small computer. The computer was a concession. He was editing a book that had a deadline. She’d agreed to him bringing it along, but not to use it to look up things about the trip. Adventure came in not knowing.
Still, she would rather talk to him than just drive. If she’d been alone, she’d play the radio, sing along to the popular songs and keep herself busy that way. With Parker, she felt as if she was being intolerant of his need to concentrate.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“There’s something on your mind. I can hear it.”
“Really? Then do I need to tell you what it is?”
His laugh was more a grunt. “I’m not that psychic.”
“I was wondering how your book was coming.”
“You were wondering if I planned to stare at my machine all the way to the Pacific Coast Highway.”
McKenna smiled and relaxed her shoulders. “I guess you are psychic.”
He closed the top of the machine and turned in his seat to face her. That action caused a small flutter in her stomach. She wanted to talk to him, but now that he was giving her his full attention, she was unsure of what to say.
“You’re just easy to read,” he said.
“I am?”
“When your mind is churning.”
“I know you have a deadline for your book, so I don’t want to keep you from getting it done.”
“But why look at a computer screen, when there is a world out there I’m missing?” He indicated the window on her side of the car.
McKenna nodded.
“There isn’t much out there. The trees and shrubs look pretty much the same as any along a highway, except these go by at a slower pace.
Wasn’t that just like him? He didn’t see the beauty of slowing down. McKenna contained her sigh. She may as well be alone for all the company Parker provided. For a while she thought they were going to be all right, friendly even, but he’d crawled back into the cubbyhole he’d built for himself and it wasn’t large enough for anyone other than him. Not that the right woman wouldn’t mind the tight squeeze.
McKenna stifled a laugh. She never thought of Parker being affectionate with a woman. He’d been divorced for years and never dated since, as far as she could remember. McKenna supposed he was set in his ways, like old people get. Lydia had said he wasn’t old, but so far she saw no indication of that.
* * *
THEY HAD BARELY crossed the Illinois border into Missouri when the sun started to set. It would be dark in an hour. McKenna knew they could be farther along if she hadn’t stopped to take so many pictures, but she felt no guilt over the delay. This was how she envisioned the trip, taking her time, recording what she wanted, going down paths that looked interesting.
Parker hadn’t complained since asking if they were going to drive during the night. He’d gone back to his computer screen, only offering an occasion comment on the landscape. McKenna felt he was letting her know he could both write and watch what was happening at the same time.
When McKenna turned into the town of Carthage, he snapped the lid of his laptop closed and looked up. McKenna could almost see the coils in his mind assessing where they were and all aspects of the area around them. She stopped the car at a gas station and looked across at Parker.
“Carthage,” she said, unnecessarily.
“Missouri?” Parker asked.
McKenna confirmed.
“If we stop now, we could get something to eat and find a place to stay for the night?” Parker suggested. “There’ll be enough light for us to walk around the town and see some of it.”
“Good idea,” McKenna said.
They both got out of the car and Parker had the pump in his hands when two guys approached them.
“Man, what I would give for one of these,” one of them said, obviously in awe. He was wearing a nondescript colored uniform that looked as if it was a combination of dark green and jet-black oil. Over the pocket the name Nick had been stitched into the fabric.
Parker turned to her and raised his eyebrows as if they had a secret. McKenna nodded with a smile. Parker returned it and for a long moment she held it.
“Where did you find such a treasure?” the man without Nick on his uniform asked. McKenna’s attention was pulled away from her traveling companion.
She watched the two men admiring the car. The second man was wearing the same color uniform as the first, only the name on his pocket said Willie. Willie moved around the car, perusing it as if it were a spaceship that might take off at any second, yet the fascination was too much to ignore.
“I didn’t find it,” Parker said. “The lady built it.” He turned to include McKenna as she came level with them.
“Is that the honest truth?” Both of them stared at her, clearly assessing whether to believe Parker or not. Then their eyes went back to the Corvette.
“She’s quite ingenious,” Parker said, still gesturing at McKenna. His gaze made her warm and she scanned the ground until Parker pulled the gas hose out of the car and replaced the cap.
“What kind of engine does it have?” Nick asked.
McKenna wasn’t sure if this was a test or not, but she decided to let them know she knew her stuff. Since both men had come through the door of the station and not one of the open bays, and they were both dressed alike, she was unsure if one or both were mechanics.
“It’s a 283-cubic-inch engine. It has the power of 230 horses. The original Wonderbar AM/FM radio is installed along with a cassette player. The car is a soft top with the original Roman Red paint and white coves, T-10 transmission, 3.55 rear, stainless exhaust, sun visors, windshield washers, courtesy light, heater, seat belts, hubcaps and wide white radials. And she drives like a dream.”
“Da-mn,” Nick said, stretching the word into two syllables. His voice was full of awe. McKenna knew he was imagining himself behind the wheel, speeding through the countryside, his foot to the floor as the mighty engine released its power on the straightaway. She recognized those feelings. They’d coursed through her own veins the first time she took it out and couldn’t resist not having it tap its full potential.
“Is there a place around here we can get something to eat, maybe find a motel to stay the night?” Parker asked.
They got directions, paid for the gas and set out, leaving two awestruck attendants in their wake.
“We can probably expect this kind of reception anytime we park this car,” Parker said. He was relaxed, his arm across the back of her seat. It wasn’t touching her, but it might as well have been. McKenna could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. And the heat from his fingers tinged the air between them and caressed her neck. With her hair secured in a ponytail, she could feel the redness spread around her nape.
“I know,” she replied. “It’s one of the reasons I chose to build it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“A trip of this length means you need to meet people. The car is a way of doing that.”
“You have everything planned out, down to the last detail. Are you sure you want to be Buz? You’re acting more like Tod.”
“That was before we left. Now that all the planning is done, the execution is whatever comes.”
She pulled into a parking space on the main street in front of a café with gingham curtains covering the lower part of the window. Before they were out of the car, people had begun to peer between the curtains at them. Parker exited the car and came around to open her door. McKenna was surprised. He offered his hand and helped her up from the low riding vehicle. Once she was standing, he dropped his hand.
Inside, McKenna chose a table near the windows. Every eye in the place followed their movement.
“That’s a great car,” a man of about thirty at the next table said before the waitress came over. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one of those.”
“’59 Corvette.” McKenna answered his unasked question.
“’59, huh?” Another man left his table and the woman with him to come over and stare out through the window. McKenna estimated his age at around sixty. He wore a short haircut and jeans and shirt that seemed as if they’d seen many days of hard work. “What a beauty. And she looks like she just came off the assembly line.”
A small gathering of people had left the restaurant to get a better look at the car.
“Almost,” McKenna stated, not explaining anything further.
“Is she yours?” He swung his gaze between the two of them.
McKenna nodded.
“Wanna sell her?”
McKenna’s eyes opened wide. It was the last question she’d expected. The idea of selling the car had never entered her mind. It had a purpose and while she’d put it together it had become part of her personality. Selling it wasn’t an option.
“It’s not for sale,” she said.
“Well, if you change your mind, give me a call.” He took a business card from his shirt pocket and thrust it toward Parker.
“It’s the lady’s car,” Parker said. “She’s done everything for it except date it.”
McKenna gave him a startled look.
“How’d you happen to come by a car like this?” the thirtysomething asked.
“Always wanted a Corvette. I have a couple of brothers who were interested in cars,” she answered.
“One of them restore this for you?”
“Afraid not,” McKenna told him. “Restored it myself.”
“You’re a woman after my own heart,” the sixty-year-old said. The woman he’d left behind at his table made a rude noise.
“I love you, honey,” he tossed over his shoulder. “But this is a car.” He looked at McKenna with a quiet appreciation in his eyes. “When I was a boy, a guy down the street from me had one of these. We always knew when he was coming or going.” He shook his head, as if remembering a better time in his life. “Man, did the girls go for him.”
“If you’ll all move away, I’ll take their order,” the waitress said.
McKenna and Parker acknowledged the woman, dressed in a skirt and a tight T-shirt, and gave their order. While the café patrons moved back to their tables, the discussion remained on the car, with everyone participating as if they were all from the same family, discussing an amusing incident that had just occurred.
“What’s your name?” a woman asked.
“McKenna Wellington,” she said. “This is Parker Fordum.”
“Y’all married?”
“No,” Parker replied. “We’re driving buddies. This is Buz and I’m Tod.”
“Yeah?” an old woman spoke from a dark corner. She got up and walked over to them. Pointing a finger, she punctuated the air in a staccato cadence as if she were tapping out a message. “Buz and Tod. And that car. Don’t sound real to me. I remember that television program. What was it?” Her question was directed inward. She was trying to remember.
