Blame the Car Ride Page 4

  “This is silly,” I said. “We don’t need to argue over something so unimportant.” I crossed to the door and held it open. “Edgy, I’ll call you later.”

  Edgy strutted toward me in her grand style and then turned to Marley, “Don’t forget to come with us to the Golden Agers and AA meetings. We’re looking for old farts for your mom.”

  Marley burst out laughing. “Okay, I give. You win our best squabble yet.” She exchanged a high five with Edgy, the physical sign that had ended their spirited debates since Marley was three.

  Edgy hugged her. “You’re a hard one to top.”

  I broke into their camaraderie. “I want you both to understand we aren’t going to an AA meeting. Those folks struggle enough without anyone invading their privacy.”

  “Corinne, loosen up,” Edgy said. “I never meant we’d really do that. I’m just teasing you. However, I think we ought to go to Dahlia Society next week and learn how to grow grand champs. Marley can escort us so we won’t get into trouble.”

  By now I was ready to scream, but Marley said, “Sounds fun.”

  At the doorway, Edgy added, “Buttercup, I’m glad you’re home. Your mom has been extra lonesome. How long are you staying?”

  “A week. Maybe a few days longer.”

  Edgy paused and eyed Marley. “Your mother hasn’t talked with your brother in a long time. Have you?”

  “Patrick? He’s fine, just busy with the high-tech job he loves.”

  “He should call once in a while.”

  It was a relief to close the door after Edgy. I turned to explain, but Marley was already up the stairs.

  Chapter 5

  M arley stayed through a second weekend, then on Monday morning she descended the stairs hauling her suitcases. She shouldn’t carry so much. One slip and down she’d tumble. I hurried to help her. “You’re leaving?” I asked the obvious question.

  “Have to.”

  I waited for her to explain.

  “Just got off the phone with my supervisor, and he said if I didn’t come back soon he’d write me a pink slip.”

  “After all these years?”

  “What can I say? I’m indispensable.” She grinned. “Not really, but the threat made me realize I want to go back to work. I need to be productive, and you taught me that.”

  “I’ll miss you,” I said instead of asking the real reason for her leaving. I feared her estranged husband had wormed his way back into her life. She’d suffered enough of his selfishness. But I wouldn’t say that to her.

  Marley’s smile wavered. “It’s been fun chumming around with you and Edgy. We can settle for that, can’t we? Better than locking horns.”

  “I can’t remember us ever arguing over important things.”

  “I know. Just trying to make my leaving easier.” She handed me a suitcase and met my eyes. “If you’d listen to Edgy, she could help with your depression.”

  I frowned. “I’m not depressed. I just feel lonely a lot.”

  “Okay, I’ll put it this way. Why are you restless and needing more?”

  “Because I’m facing old age and am not ready for it. And by the way, Edgy’s help so far has been a bar fight and a mad neighbor. I never should’ve started the whole thing.”

  “Oh, from what you’ve told me about getting lost in the mountains, you can just blame the car ride.”

  I laughed. “It wasn’t getting lost with Randal. It was pure and simple loneliness.”

  She tipped her chin in a satisfied way. “You’re better now that we’ve had some fun.”

  “Of course.” I waggled my shoulders, pretending satisfaction anything to help her leave without worry.

  “Then I won’t need to stress about you here alone.” Marley’s shiny locks bounced as she hauled the suitcases to her Jeep.

  Concerned about the reason for her leaving, I followed with one of the pieces of luggage pulling at my arm. This much stuff told me she had planned to stay longer. Now, she hurried away. The mother in me demanded to know why, but my better sense quieted all questions.

  The evening Marley left, I perched on the window seat, settling into a fluffy pillow to watch out the bay window for Randal’s car. I should have been excited to go to pinochle club, but thoughts of my daughter flitted by in a disjointed way, same as the twisted pattern in the lace curtain I held aside to see down the street. I fingered a few tangled threads in the fabric. The fibers twisted and coiled the same way my worry wormed around. I tried to hold onto Marley’s promises to keep in touch, but I knew she wouldn’t. She never did.

  Finally, while waiting for Randal, my worries calmed and were replaced by eagerness to tell him about the events of the last two weeks. We would share a good laugh over all the stupidity.

  A gray van came down the maple-lined street and stopped in front of the house. I peered out trying to see the driver—impossible through the tinted windshield.

  A man got out. My breath paused, then I recognized Randal. I grabbed my purse and rushed outside into the heat of early evening. “Didn’t know you were getting a different car.”

  Randal smiled. “I didn’t either, but we need to make some adjustments. I’m just road testing.”

  I stopped before reaching for the door handle. “We’re taking a used van up to Star Meadow without knowing if it works?”

  “Always get you home safe, don’t I?” His tone teased and a devilish smile played around his lips.

  Ah, there was the lighthearted man I enjoyed spending time with. “Just making sure you keep up the perfect record.”

  Unaccustomed to vans, I boarded awkwardly. The interior reeked of aftershave, perfume, and who knew what else. My sinuses closed, and I sneezed.

  Randal got in, slammed the door harder the second time he tried to close it, and started the engine. His jaw clenched, and a frown creased his forehead. Something had riled him, but I couldn’t begin to guess what. Maybe he’d just had a hectic day.

  After taking a right on Meridian Avenue, Randal finally broke the silence. “I tried out several other vans, but this Dodge Caravan might work out. Did you notice the back seat has been removed?”

  I checked over my shoulder. “What’s happening?” I ached from knowing what he would say.

  “I must have some way to transport Nicole. She still uses a walker at home but needs a motorized wheelchair for other places. Miss Independence doesn’t want anyone to see me pushing her around.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He cleared his throat. “No need to be. This van has a good ramp and seems better than the others I tried out.”

  Randal grew quiet, and I slumped in the seat. I had been eager to tell him what had happened to Edgy and me at the tavern and the church. But I couldn’t share my adventures against what he faced day after day, the same as I had endured with Mel—day after long day.

  We veered onto Farm to Market Road and entered farmland and forested foothills. Randal didn’t break the silence, so I left him to his thoughts and leaned toward the side window for a better view of dignified ponderosa pine mingling with mysterious Douglas fir and pleasant quaking aspen. Saplings crowded for room beneath their parents. The evergreens looked dusty.

  We needed a good soaking rain before wildfires had a chance to ignite. I worried about the dry forest as we turned and entered the forest on a steep uphill climb. The motor handled it without a problem as we traveled higher and turned onto an unpaved road.

  Evening shadows darkened in the mountains before we finally arrived at the familiar group of mailboxes and turned onto a side road jutting off into the trees. I smiled at my girlish feelings of anticipation. A good card game and laughter was what I needed. And Bev, our host, provided it with a tolerant spirit showing in her nut-brown eyes. She teased everyone in her rural, gossipy way. I always halfway expected a hug from her but never got one. Nobody did. Living in the woods made folks shy.

  First thing after opening the door, Bev pointed at Randal. “I heard by way of the pony express you had fo
rgotten your way up here” Nothing shy in her teasing.

  “Not hardly.” His tone was also edged, a warning to be careful.

  She slapped at his shoulder. “Didn’t mean anything.”

  He grinned and handed her a pink envelope. “I brought you a card with a little something to help with the coffee and treats.”

  She plucked the card from his hand. “Thank you. You’re the only one who does. Better go on in. They’re chomping at the bit to get started.” She opened a cupboard door and placed the fat envelope behind the dinner plates.

  We entered a large living room with three card tables set up and noisy friends already waiting to begin.

  “Are we late?” Randal asked.

  I checked my watch. “Seven o’clock.” I thumbed at the tables. “You did a better job figuring the time of arrival than they did.”

  Instantly, the other guys groaned at the kidding, like I knew they would.

  Big Butch grimaced from his usual place on the other side of the living area. “Corinne, just come and sit so I can deal.” The flimsy card table looked like it was about to collapse under his heavy arms.

  Randal stopped short, right in front of me, and stared at a table near the kitchen island. A young man and a smallish, intense older man I had never met both nodded at me.

  “Why the subs?” Randal asked just loud enough for Bev to hear.

  “Mary’s sick and Marvin wanted to stay home with her, so I begged Vern and his grandson to play. Figured it was better than canceling.” Then, under her breath she added, “It’ll be okay.”

  “I doubt it,” Randal muttered.

  Bev pressed her lips together. “Make it work.”

  Randal shrugged and touched my shoulder to guide me to our spots at the table that looked like it might buckle at any minute.

  Butch’s wife patted my arm. “Good to see you. You seem a little harried.”

  To cover my tension, I said, “I am, but it’s the good kind. Marley came home for a visit. That girl knows how to keep me hopping. I’m still recovering.” Cards slid in front of us as Butch dealt. I fanned my hand and sorted the cards by suit.

  The evening slipped away with very little of the usual banter. Instead, I sensed a tense undercurrent of anxiety that kept the usual laughter to a bare minimum, as if everyone was waiting—for what, I couldn’t guess. But I was more concerned about Randal. He sat stony-faced, right leg jiggling and fingers tight on his cards. I was relieved when the last game ended.

  Vern and his grandson left quickly without a word to Randal or anyone at our table. The snub felt like punishment. It seemed we had put a damper on the group when we arrived, and I just wanted to leave.

  Randal, however, took his sweet time helping put tables away and picking up, as always.

  We said our goodbyes, loaded into the van, and I finally had a chance to ask Randal what had plagued me all evening, “Who the heck is Vern? I’ve never seen you so upset. Thought you might go right over, stand him up on his feet, and escort him out the door.”

  “That’s what I should’ve done.” He grinned at me. “I’ll remember that if he ever shows up again.” Randal concentrated on driving as the van bounced down the gravel road to the county road. He turned right at the paved intersection.

  He should have taken a left. I almost said so, but he was in no mood to be questioned. He surely knew better than I which direction to turn. And why did he avoid telling me who Vern was?

  Our headlights cut through the darkening forest as the van easily climbed around winding curves.

  I had waited long enough. I finally said, “I think we’re going higher into the mountains.”

  “Just for a bit. I have a birthday present for my sister. She lives father up. We’ll come out on Highway 93 and take it home.” He steered through a sharp curve. “I thought you liked to go for rides,” he added, not glancing at me and clearly still upset over seeing Vern, whoever he was.

  Before I could ask about his sister, we hit a curve snaking sharply to the left and straightened onto a steep downhill grade. I gripped the armrest as the van picked up speed. Randal pumped the brakes, and the van slowed enough to barely make a curve at the bottom.

  Relieved, I loosened my tight grip on the armrest. Motion to the right. Headlights reflected in an animal’s eyes. “Moose!” I yelled.

  Randal braked hard. “Get down!” His right arm flew across my chest as we collided with the animal. His airbag exploded. Mine didn’t, I jerked forward, almost smashing into the windshield, but the seatbelt snapped me back. An antler slammed into the windshield, buckling the glass inward and gouging a hole through the cracking glass and then slamming into the metal roof. The van fishtailed. The window crashed inward. The moose’s muzzle grazed my head.

  The moose shrieked, a sound I’ll never forget. I ducked low to the right. The van skidded to a stop, and I jabbed the seatbelt release. I found the door latch and squeezed. The door opened. I shoved out from under the moose’s quivering jaw and fell hard to the ground. I lay in a heap on the ground. The terrified moose kicked and screamed, fighting to free itself. It was a horrible sound.

  Six rounds of gunfire rapidly discharged. The thrashing stopped. Air whooshed from the moose’s lungs, and he went limp, his huge body blanketing the hood of the van, blood pooling on the pavement. Dead silence. Nothing.

  Randal pounded around the front end and bent over me. “Corinne, are you okay?” His words were clear but weak. He didn’t have enough oxygen.

  Stunned, I tried to sit up. Gravel pressed painfully into my palm. I gave up struggling and lay back down. I managed to say, “I think so. You sound out of breath.”

  He gulped some air and shivered. “Just adrenaline.”

  I sat up. “Let’s take a moment.” I patted the ground beside me.

  Randal stuck the handgun in his belt. Holding his left arm tight across his chest, he carefully lowered himself to sit beside me, our shoulders touching.

  “Is your arm all right?” I asked.

  “Not broken. Glad I brought my pistol. Poor guy. Hated to shoot him. How I hit vital organs, I don’t know.”

  We sat in the quiet, dark forest. He put his arm around my shoulders, and I entered his one-armed hug grateful to be alive. His chest and arm jittered while he squeezed me tight. I leaned against him, and we waited to calm down.

  We stayed close together, absorbing the shock we had just gone through. Breezes rattled the treetops dark against the skyline. Time slid by until Randal finally straightened and pulled slightly away. In the light through the open passenger door, he looked deep into my eyes and leaned in for a kiss. I turned, allowing the lips of a married man to land on my cheek, and then I broke from his embrace.

  “Sorry,” he said, sounding bewildered.

  I spoke quickly to cover up my need for that kiss. “It’s just a reaction to surviving. We’re both dazed.”

  He stood and helped me to my feet.

  I swatted mosquitoes and flies away from my face as we checked out the carnage across the nose of the van. Part of one antler and part of the head were inside the windshield. The rest of the huge animal was draped across the hood and down to the ground. My stomach heaved, and I fought to control nausea.

  “I’m guessing,” Randal said, “but I think he’s young. Probably weighs somewhere near eight hundred pounds. He sure damaged the hell out of the van.”

  “We have to call for help,” I mumbled as I brushed flying insects from the back of his shirt.

  He wiped his forearm across his face and then said, “No cell coverage.”

  I rubbed my temples, trying to think. “There’s no way we can remove the carcass. We’ll have to start walking.”

  Randal held his ground. “I think we’re better off staying right here. It might take a while, but someone is bound to come along. I think it’s okay to wait inside the van. It’s high-centered on the berm and can’t move.” He opened the sliding door. “We’ll have to sit on the ramp, but that’s better than letting
the bugs eat us alive.”

  The wild, musky odor of moose and the tang of fresh blood filled my nose as I climbed in through the sliding door and crawled across to the side panel and huddled against it. I trembled with aftershock, trying to make sense of our near miss with death.

  I drew my knees up and hugged my legs with trembling arms. Within a few minutes, I had to scoot around to try to find a comfortable spot. Couldn’t find one. I tried sitting on my hands. That hurt worse. The need to scream built within me, but I held it back. Long ago, I had learned to keep my feelings deep and not make things worse by making a scene.

  Randal was handling the wreck the best way he knew how, and I appreciated it, but my trust in him had lessened. He’d made a dumb mistake driving a van he wasn’t used to into the mountains at night, and then he made the error greater by going deeper into the high country. What possessed him? We could’ve left for card club earlier and delivered his gift to his sister in the daylight. He still hadn’t gotten inside the van; he just stood out there staring into space.

  Twilight deepened. The forest grew dark and mysterious under the trees. The breeze quickened, and the evergreens swayed. I closed my eyes and asked the good Lord not to let a storm hit. That was the only thing I could think of to do.

  Randle finally climbed inside and pulled the door shut. His legs stretched out straight, just to the right of mine. I shied away to make sure I didn’t accidentally bump him.

  “This is awkward, isn’t it?” he said.

  “I should thank you for taking care of us, but I’m angry.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re stuck in a van with a dead moose stinking to high heaven, and I can’t think of one thing to say to your wife about how we got here. And she will ask.” Then I yelled, “My airbag didn’t work! A birthday present could’ve waited for a daylight trip.”

  His frown deepened. “Well, how about you just wait in here alone.” He twisted around, opened the door, and got out. The door slid and closed with a thump, echoing his displeasure.

  I glared at him through the side windows, watching each step he took to the back of the van. It dipped when he leaned heavily against the rear. Good, he could just stay there and the bugs or bears could get him. I didn’t mean it, just wanted to be alone with my anger. Hugging myself, I rocked slightly, breathing slowly, trying to recover from the trauma. The feel of hitting the moose and falling hard out of the van would stick with me for a long time.