One Night

by Debbie Macomber

  He didn’t answer, but she nearly cheered when he turned down a long dirt road. Soon a two-story house, freshly painted and gleaming white against the sun, showed in the distance. Civilization at last. She felt as if she’d been wandering for forty years in the wilderness.

  No sooner had they pulled into the yard than a young woman with two small children stepped onto the porch. She wore jeans and a thin cotton top and held a squirming toddler on her hip. A second towheaded youngster, who could be no more than five, stood at her side.

  Kyle turned off the engine and climbed out of the car, standing inside the open door. Carrie did too, surprised at the wave of heat that hit her full force in the face.

  “Hello,” the woman said, shielding her eyes against the glare of the sun. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Can you direct me toward Paris?” Kyle asked. He must have assumed he’d find the road if he could retrace his steps.

  “Oh, sure, no problem,” she said and set the toddler down next to his brother. “You take a left out of the driveway and go down the road a mile or so until you come to a red mailbox with the name Wilson written in large white letters.”

  “A red mailbox,” Kyle repeated.

  “That’s right, but pay attention, because just a little way past the mailbox is a road that goes off to the left.”

  “Is that north or south?” Kyle wanted to know.

  “I can’t rightly say.”

  “Go on,” Carrie urged, “we’ll find it.”

  “Don’t worry, the road’s clearly marked. You couldn’t miss it if you tried.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Kyle whispered.

  “It’s the one that’s barred and says ROAD CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. Take a left onto it and—”

  “But the sign says the road’s closed,” Kyle objected.

  The woman made a weak motion with her hand. “It’s been that way all spring. The county’ll get around to repairing it within the next couple of months. You really don’t have anything to worry about other than one little hole.”

  “Hole?” Kyle asked, and Carrie noticed that he placed his hand on his car as if the action would protect his already battered and abused vehicle.

  “The road was washed out several months ago, but it isn’t really that bad. The bad spot’s a mile or so down from the ROAD CLOSED sign. Just be careful driving around it and you won’t have a problem. From there on, it’s smooth sailing to Paris.”

  As she finished speaking, Carrie noticed a thick plume of dust racing toward one of the outbuildings.

  “That’ll be my husband, Joe,” the woman said. “He’ll probably be able to guide you better than me. That is if you don’t mind waiting.”

  “We don’t mind,” Kyle said, and looked to Carrie. “A woman doesn’t know how to give directions,” he murmured under his breath.

  “What do you mean?” Carrie said, ready to defend womankind. “We give directions as good as any man.”

  “Let’s not argue about it, all right?” Kyle said, his voice and words strained.

  “Fine, we won’t argue, just tell me what you mean.”

  “All right,” he said shortly. “Women can’t tell east from west, so you use these ridiculous ways of getting from one place to another.”

  “Ridiculous means? What exactly are you talking about?”

  “If you must know, a woman gives instructions to take a right at the beauty parlor on Main Street, and a man will tell you to head east.”

  “It’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

  “No, it isn’t,” Kyle argued. “Men don’t notice things like beauty parlors or red mailboxes.”

  “Sure, every man is a regular Meriwether Lewis, right? Unfortunately, we need to be in Dallas by nightfall. We don’t have time to wait for you to direct us by the stars.”

  A muscle jerked in Kyle’s jaw and his eyes narrowed as he studied her. “You’re impossible.”

  “Me?” She moved away from the car and slammed the door shut. Kyle slammed his door too, and the pair glared at each other until another car door closed in the distance.

  Kyle waited until the farmer was walking toward them before he broke eye contact. The man was middle-aged, Carrie guessed. He wore jeans, a shirt, and a hat to shield his eyes from the bright glare of the sun.

  “I’m Kyle Harris,” Kyle said, extending his hand, “and this is Carrie Jamison. We’re in need of a few directions.”

  “Joe Brighton.” The farmer removed his gloves to shake hands with Kyle. He touched the brim of his hat and nodded in Carrie’s direction. “Come inside, out of the sun,” he suggested.

  Kyle hesitated. “We don’t want to impose.”

  “No problem,” Joe said, taking the porch steps two at a time. “This here’s Adam,” he said, reaching for his younger son. “And the beautiful woman’s my wife, Kate.” He kissed his wife on the cheek. The older boy let out a cry of protest, and his father grabbed him by the waist and tucked him against his side. “Seth’s the one who’s kicking and laughing.” With that Joe led them into a large family kitchen.

  “Glad to meet you, Kate,” Carrie said, smiling at Joe’s antics with his two young sons. The irritation she’d experienced moments earlier with Kyle was gone and she sent him an apologetic look. He too seemed to regret the exchange.

  “You must be parched,” Kate said, opening the refrigerator and taking out a tall pitcher of iced tea.

  Joe invited them to sit down at the table. The two boys followed their father to wash up while Kate filled glasses with tea and ice and brought them to the table.

  “We don’t mean to put you out,” Carrie felt obliged to say.

  “It’s no problem. We don’t get many visitors out this way. I’m hoping you can stay for lunch. We have plenty.”

  “We appreciate the offer, but we can’t,” Kyle said. “We need to get back on the road. We want to be in Dallas by this afternoon.”

  Kate lifted the lid to a simmering pot of homemade soup, and the aroma nearly lifted Carrie out of her chair.

  “There’s more than enough,” Kate insisted. “I put on a big pot of beef with barley this morning and baked Joe’s favorite applesauce cake.”

  “On second thought,” Carrie said, silently pleading with Kyle to reconsider, “we’re already later than we wanted to be. A while longer shouldn’t matter, should it?” She batted her long lashes, appealing to Kyle, hoping he remembered that they’d left that morning without breakfast. Personally she was famished, and it might be hours before they found someplace to eat.

  “We insist,” Joe said, coming into the kitchen. He slipped his arms around his wife’s waist and nuzzled her neck. “How you feeling?” he asked, studying her.

  “I’m fine, Joe. Honestly, you’d think I was the only woman in the world who ever got pregnant. As you might have guessed, we have another one on the way. It’s barely three months and already he’s worried.”

  Joe broke away from his wife, downed a full glass of iced tea, and poured himself another. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with this woman. She just produces me boys. I told her she was going to have to keep at it until she gives me the daughter she promised.”

  Hands braced against her hips, her eyes full of happiness, Kate turned to her husband. “I made no such promise, Joseph Brighton.”

  “Please let me do something,” Carrie offered, bringing her iced tea glass with her.

  “You can help me with the sandwich, if you want.”

  “While the women are fussing with lunch,” Joe said to Kyle, “why don’t I find a piece of paper and draw you a map. That’s probably the easiest way of getting you back to the main road.”

  “Great.”

  The two men disappeared into the other room.

  Carrie liked Kate immediately, and within minutes they were laughing and chatting. They worked well together, too.

  “I was surprised to learn you and Kyle aren’t married,” Kate said conversationally, slicing tomatoes
into impossibly thin sections. “I saw the way you two looked at each other. It reminded me of the way Joe looks at me when the boys are down for the night and he wants to sit on the porch for a spell.”

  “Kyle and I work together,” Carrie said, hoping that would be explanation enough.

  Kate stopped slicing. “You mean you aren’t romantically involved?”

  Carrie wasn’t sure how to answer. She focused her attention on spreading mayonnaise across the slices of homemade bread. “Not…exactly.”

  “I can tell you’d rather not talk about it. I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

  “Not in the least.” But Kate had told her what she feared the most. She was falling for Kyle.

  And it showed.

  Carrie could hear Adam and Seth laughing hysterically in the other room. Kate grinned knowingly. “Joe’s crazy about his boys. Some afternoons he gets them so riled up, it’s a real challenge to put them down for their naps.”

  The phony sound of two horses whinnying caused Carrie to laugh outright. She walked around the corner to discover both Kyle and Joe down on all fours. Kyle had Seth on his back and Joe had the younger boy. The two were charging at each other, enjoying the horseplay as much as the youngsters.

  Mesmerized, Carrie watched Kyle with the children, thinking how natural he looked. Here heart started to pound loudly in her ears, and for no reason she could decipher she felt tears sting the back of her eyes. Blinking wildly, she managed to keep them at bay but wondered at their cause.

  If she’d thought about it, she would have guessed that Kyle would be stiff and uneasy around children. That wasn’t the case at all. Never had she seen him more animated. Nor had she witnessed him enjoying himself more. It was as if the mold in which she’d placed him had been broken. The pieces had fallen away and she was left to discover the attractive, exciting man behind the rigid wall.

  A portion of her thoughts must have transmitted themselves to Kyle, because he turned abruptly and his gaze met and held hers.

  He froze, the sudden movement unseating Seth. Kyle caught the youngster and reluctantly returned to their game, but twice more he looked at her, before they all sat down for lunch.

  Somehow Carrie got through the meal. She joked and laughed and teased and practically did handstands in a effort to ignore Kyle; otherwise he might guess what she’d been feeling, which was something she had yet to understand herself.

  Afterward, all four Brightons walked Carrie and Kyle to the car. Kyle and Joe exchanged handshakes and Carrie and Kate hugged. Both boys cried when they left, which was sweet but more an indication that they were ready for their naps than anything else.

  Once they were on their way again, Kyle handed Carrie the sketch Joe had drawn for them. “Believe it or not, that closed road is the simplest means of getting back to the main road,” he said.

  “Isn’t that what Kate said?”

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  “Are you worried about the washout?” she asked.

  “I’ll be careful.”

  Carrie crossed her arms and heaved a giant sigh. “Given our penchant for bad luck, your confidence doesn’t do much to reassure me.”

  “We’ll be fine.” He reached for her hand and kissed her knuckles. All at once, he seemed to realize what he was doing and abruptly dropped her hand.

  Afterward they were both silent. Carrie pointed to the red mailbox Kate had mentioned, and no more than ten seconds later Kyle eased the BMW past the barrier and its sign.

  After an awkward moment, Kyle cleared his throat. “I want to know what happened at the Brightons when you were watching me and Seth horse around.”

  Flustered and confused, Carrie lowered her head. When she looked up, she saw Kyle was driving straight toward the sawhorse barrier in front of the washed-out space in the road.

  She screamed and raised her hands to her face.

  Kyle jerked the wheel sharply to the right. They swerved suddenly and came to an abrupt halt. Carrie was flung forward, but the seat belt locked, preventing her head from slamming into the windshield.

  “Carrie, dear God!”

  Before she could inhale, Kyle was holding her, his eyes searching her face.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. A shudder went through him, and it was several moments before he relaxed.

  “What about you?” she asked, shocked by how weak her voice came out.

  “I’m okay.” He stroked her back. “You’ve got me so tied up in knots I can’t even keep my car on the road anymore.”

  “So it’s all my fault?” Funny how Kyle could turn things around, she noted, but she was more amused than angry. It was too difficult to be angry for any length of time when she was in Kyle’s arms.

  “No,” he whispered into her hair. “The fault is entirely mine.”

  They broke apart reluctantly, as if the near wreck had offered them a convenient excuse for what they’d been wanting to do all morning: to cling to each other. To hold each other and test the uncharted waters of the powerful attraction they shared.

  Kyle climbed out of the car to see what damage had been done. Carrie followed. She sighed gratefully when she realized they’d narrowly missed the barrier. By driving off to the right, Kyle had avoided disaster. Unfortunately he’d driven into a marsh.

  “Are we going to have trouble getting the car back onto the road?” Carrie asked. Already her shoes had filled with water and her feet made squishy noises when she walked. The smells weren’t all that pleasant either.

  “I won’t know until I try.” He climbed back into the car while Carrie made her way to the side of the road to watch. She wasn’t sure Kyle would appreciate her advice just then, and held her tongue.

  In the beginning it looked as if Kyle wasn’t going to have a problem. His faithful car fired back to life and he slipped it into gear, cautiously inching forward. He was a few feet from the road when he got stuck. He tried once more, then climbed out.

  “It looks like we’re going to have to push it the rest of the way,” he said, after checking the tires. “I’ll bury the back end if I spin the wheels any longer.”

  “You think we can push it out?” Carrie wasn’t nearly as confident.

  “We don’t have any choice, do we?”

  She wished he hadn’t said that. According to Joe Brighton they could make Dallas in time for the party without a problem. Carrie would have sold her birthright for a store that sold real woman’s clothes.

  Kyle opened the car door. With one hand guiding the steering wheel, he pushed with all his might against the door post.

  “I’ll help,” Carrie called out, hurrying to the back end of the car. With her hands braced against the bumper, she heaved for all she was worth, which at the moment was a lot. If getting this car out of the marsh was all that stood between her and civilization, she was moving that BMW!

  Slowly the vehicle edged forward and a surge of triumph shot through her, but the sense of success was short-lived; the car rolled back.

  “Once more!” Kyle shouted.

  Carrie’s sandals sank deep into the mud, but she ignored it as much as she could and pushed, using every ounce of strength she possessed.

  With a mighty shout, Kyle too strained in an effort to get his BMW back onto the road. The car inched forward, then seemed to slip. Kyle yelled once more and the vehicle unexpectedly lurched forward. Unfortunately, Carrie’s feet were so deeply embedded in the thick mud that she lost her balance and fell down face first.

  For a moment she was too shocked to move.

  “Carrie?”

  She was on her hands and knees by the time Kyle reached her. He lifted her by the waist and hauled her out of the mire, then carried her in that position to the road, setting her feet down on the concrete.

  She stood there, her hands caked with mud and the bottom half of her face covered with slime.

  “Hold still,” Ky
le instructed and raced around to the back of his car to grab a blanket. Gently, he wiped the mud off her face.

  When he finished, she spit and coughed. He cleaned off her arms next, while she struggled for composure.

  “If you laugh, I swear I’ll never forgive you,” she muttered.

  “I’m not going to laugh,” he assured her and as a show of support he kissed her forehead.

  “But you want to,” she guessed, holding her arms away from her body, even though they were mostly clean now.

  “No, Carrie, I don’t have the faintest desire to laugh at you.” Having said this, he proved otherwise by bursting into deep peals of laughter.

  “I suggest you stop,” she demanded.

  “You’re right,” he said, barely managing to control himself. “This isn’t a laughing matter.” He stepped back to examine her, then slowly shook his head. “You’re going to need to change clothes.”

  “Change into what?” she cried. “I only bought the one new outfit, and I was saving that for this evening’s party. I haven’t talked to Cathie since we left. She doesn’t know I need clothes. The way my luck’s going, she’s probably working double shifts.”

  “Oh.” He frowned. “Don’t look so worried. By the time we arrive the mud will have dried and fallen off.”

  For the first time she looked down at herself and realized that she was covered from shoulders to ankles.

  “I look like the bride of Frankenstein,” she wailed. She was going to arrive at this all-important broadcasters convention looking as if she’d walked out of the Black Lagoon.

  Kyle must have realized she’d reached her limit. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he said contritely, stepping toward her. “It’s all my fault.” Then, disregarding his own relatively clean clothes, he gathered her into his arms and comforted her. Carrie went willingly. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she buried her face against his clean shirt and sobbed openly.

  “I’ll buy you another outfit before we reach Dallas,” he promised.

  “I need a bath.”

  “We’ll find one,” he promised.

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. Trust me. All right?”

  She nodded, feeling infinitely better. “You called me sweetheart.”