“How do I know? We’re having a meeting at Whip’s house and I’ll probably eat dinner there.”
“In the script, what happens after the talk in the park about sponsorship of Yancey’s race car? Maybe I can suggest something.”
“Mary-Lutie and Yancey make love in the band shell.”
“In the band shell?” She remembered Mary-Lutie as a staid little old lady with thick calves and bad dentures.
“Apparently they met to break up but made up, instead.” Luke grinned, a wry twist to his lips.
“How do we know that really happened?”
“We don’t, but it makes a good story. I understand that the location of that scene will change but the dialogue will remain substantially the same.”
Carrie shook her head. These movie people were a different breed, all right. “Who’s going to the meeting?”
“Whip, me, a couple of scriptwriters, Paola.”
Paola? What would she be doing there? The woman was a set designer, not a story person. “You’ll be by my house directly after dinner, right?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as suspicious as she felt.
“I’ll call you.”
“Okay.” She smiled, rammed the SUV into Reverse and backed up. “Hey,” she said, sticking her head out the window. “If you aren’t going to show, how about phoning ASAP?”
“I’ll try,” he said, turning to walk away.
I’ll try, she fumed as she sped through the green light. In this instance, trying was not enough. If he didn’t want to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him, she was the one with the greater emotional stake in the relationship, and in the Rules According to Carrie, this was not a good thing.
She made herself a grilled-cheese-and-bacon sandwich and ate it from a TV tray, with a salad and sweet tea. She was glad that neither Dixie nor Joyanne was around, because she might have vented in an embarrassing way and then they’d pity her. Worse, they’d turn against Luke for hurting her feelings.
After eating, she decided to go through some of her old photographs and insert them in a new album she’d recently bought for that purpose. There were hundreds of her family, her friends, Smitty’s. She’d snapped them around Yewville, at the beach, at church functions, and they brought back so many memories.
She’d finished several pages when a faded snapshot of Brandon, her first love, surfaced. She was prepared to toss it out when she remembered why they’d broken up. It was over a wrestling match in the backseat of his old Pontiac at the Skyline Drive-in Theater. Brandon had wanted more than she cared to give, and she’d ripped his high-school ring from the chain around her neck and thrown it at him the very next day.
An idea began to form in her mind, and as it was starting to come together, the phone rang. She jumped to answer it.
“Carrie? It’s Luke. I’ll be over in half an hour or so.”
“How did the meeting go?” she asked.
“Not well. Everyone’s arguing over the change, and no one’s suggesting a better place for the scene than the park.”
“Luke,” she said. “Meet me somewhere, okay?”
He sounded puzzled. “Meet you?”
“At the old Skyline Drive-in just after you turn onto the Allentown highway. Hang a left onto the asphalt at the broken-down sign—the pavement’s kind of crumbly, but the road’ll take you past an admission booth that’s missing a roof. You’ll spot my SUV to your right.”
“Carrie, Carrie,” he said, chuckling. “What do you have up your sleeve?”
“Something you’ll like, I hope.”
“Okay, but it had better be good. I was so looking forward to—”
“You still can. Bye, Luke.”
CARRIE WAS ALREADY parked in the dark in the back row of the drive-in when the Ferrari passed through the gate. She flicked the SUV’s headlights on and off a couple of times so Luke would see her, and waited until he got out of the car before jumping out of the SUV into knee-high grass wet with evening dew. She wore a raincoat, even though no rain was forecast, and high heels because they were sexier than her usual flats. She hoped she wouldn’t be wearing the shoes long enough for them to pinch.
“This is a little spooky,” Luke said, taking in the old screen, still in pretty good shape, and the speaker stands spaced at regular intervals along the rows where cars used to park.
“It’s was the place to go when I was in high school, and it was definitely in business when Yancey and Mary-Lutie were courting. I’d bet all her Elvis Presley records that this is where those two did their breaking up and making up, not in the band shell at Memorial Park.”
“Wow, Carrie, this is amazing,” Luke said. “Switch on your headlights again so I can walk around.”
“You’ll get sandburs in your socks,” she warned, following after him, though she tended to wobble on those high heels.
“I don’t care about that,” Luke said, keeping within the beam of light. “This place is great, a real find.” He whirled, thinking out loud. “A good mowing would restore it, sort of. A new roof on the admission booth, a bunch of old cars parked in the rows.”
“The speakers are all pretty well intact, and maybe they still work. A tinny sound in the background as Yancey and Mary-Lutie snuggle up in Yancey’s old Nash Rambler would be a good counterpoint.”
“We don’t have his car.”
This was the surprise she’d waited to spring on him ever since the other day when Memaw had mentioned that Yancey’s first car was jacked up on cinder blocks in the barn on her friend Dottie’s property. “Yes, we do,” Carrie announced with glee. “And Dottie will sell it to Whip in the blink of an eye. She needs the money.”
“Wow,” Luke said, favoring her with an awestruck look. “You’re amazing.”
“I know,” Carrie said with an unavoidable degree of smugness.
“And the movie screen—it could be repainted.”
“With scenes from old movies projected on it?”
“Yes!” Luke reached out to slap her an exuberant high five, which almost caused her to lose her grip on the two sides of the raincoat that she held bunched in her fists.
She turned back toward the SUV. “Well, here we are at the local passion pit,” she said with exaggerated nonchalance, “and maybe we should make good use of it.” Her heart was thumping against her ribs with excitement at her daring at setting this up.
She couldn’t have scripted it better. As if on cue, Luke backed her against the side of her car. She lifted her lips for his kiss, a lingering one, and she let the raincoat swing open.
In mid-kiss, Luke opened his eyes. “Carrie?” he said, reaching inside the folds of fabric and encountering bare flesh. His touch was delicious, sending goose bumps everywhere that counted.
“Surprised?” she asked, starting to laugh, but he was speechless.
“What’s wrong—don’t they do things like this in Hollywood, California?” she asked.
“Not in my experience,” he said. “What am I supposed to do now?”
She trailed kisses along the side of his neck. “Hint—your hands should be on the roundest place you can find,” she said.
Quickly he slid them around to her derriere.
“Keep going,” she told him, guiding his hands to her breasts.
“What is this? Fulfillment of a fantasy?”
“Isn’t it?”
“It’s one I never knew I had,” he said. He kissed her again. “I really like you, Carrie,” he murmured. “When you do things like this, it turns me on.”
She untucked his shirt and unbuttoned it. Warmth radiated from his flesh, and he hardened against her. “Okay, Mr. Movie Star, what do you say we get in my car, and I’ll show you what else I can do.”
“Works for me,” he said, his voice rough and fingers on the door handle.
She’d already lowered the backseat so that the cargo area of the SUV was large and comfortable. They disagreed on whether to put the blanket she’d brought over them or underneath, and final
ly draped it over them in case someone should come.
“Anybody comes, it’s going to be me, and soon,” Luke said, which made Carrie giggle.
It wasn’t as if anyone could see anything inside the SUV, because their heavy breathing soon steamed up the windows anyway, and after Luke inadvertently bumped his head on the dome light in the middle of the ceiling, the whole thing became an exercise in who could most pleasure the other without hogging the blanket. Their lovemaking was hard and fast, and Carrie noticed that it was getting awfully hot in there, even though the blanket had disappeared in the direction of their feet after only a minute or two. The heat became a flame that consumed her until it took off like a bottle rocket from the Southern Confectionery Kitchen on New Year’s Eve, exploding into a fountain of sparkles inside her head.
Afterward, with the condensation on the window trickling down in silvery rivulets, she lay with her head pillowed on Luke’s shoulder, contentedly floating along with the stars in the sky, listening to a chorus of katydids and trying not to speak what was on her mind.
I love you, she wanted to say, afraid that the words would leap from her throat unbidden and ruin everything. In order for that not to happen, she bit down on her tongue, hard.
Before she drowsed, she made herself face reality. Either this was a thrilling way to introduce Luke to a new possibility for the scene in the movie that needed to be changed, or it was a desperate bid to get him to commit to her, which so far hadn’t worked.
Well, maybe it would. Could. But she only had a few days before Luke left to visit his parents, and what if that wasn’t enough time?
Chapter Twelve
Luke sensed a distancing in Carrie before he left for New Hampshire in October, but he was at a loss what to do about it. The company’s hiatus would last two weeks, during which he’d learn more about the suspicious mole recently removed from his mother’s leg and try to persuade his parents to move south for the winter. He didn’t really have time to deal with relationship problems, as much as he was charmed by Carrie.
He did care for her. She’d brought a joy to his life that he’d only imagined before he met her. He loved being with her in that beautiful old house and had grown fond of her family, even dour old Estill. They’d opened their arms and their hearts to Luke during the short time he’d been in Yewville, and he’d always be grateful for that.
After arriving at his parent’s home in Garrett Falls, he called Carrie at least once a day between visits to the doctor with his mother and long rambling talks with his father. He sent roses because that was Carrie’s middle name, he plied her with big boxes of candy and even, in a quixotic mood, shipped her a giant plush peach that reminded him of Yewville’s notorious water tower. He e-mailed her a couple of times a day. She appeared grateful, and she always inquired after his parents, but she still seemed, well, distant.
It wasn’t as difficult as he’d expected to get his parents to agree to accompany him to Yewville. His mother, it turned out, was fearful of slipping on the ice again during the coming winter, and his father seemed tired and uncharacteristically unwilling to argue. The growth that had been removed from his mother’s leg was benign, but she limped when she walked and was more listless than usual.
“I’ll find you a nice house in South Carolina,” he told his mom. “And, Dad, you can take those volumes of the Harvard Classics that you’ve always intended to read and enjoy them while you’re there.”
“Hmmph,” his father said, though he looked secretly pleased. “I don’t expect you to plan my life for me.”
“Now, Howell, you be quiet,” his mother remonstrated. “It might be fun.”
“Ruth, I’m only doing it for you,” his father said, but Luke smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait for them to meet Carrie and all the rest of her family. In that big uproarious group, they might forget their troubles and start enjoying life.
ALTHOUGH THE TREES were already showing leaves of tawny gold, bright orange and persimmon when Luke left, by November the air carried a definite nip. Frost often formed overnight on the empty stalks in Carrie’s garden. Carrie began bringing Shasta home from the garage with her every night to let her sleep in the old doghouse in the side yard. Unfortunately she didn’t dare let the dog in the house, where she and Killer could pick a fight.
“I’ll eventually find you a good home,” she told Shasta over and over. Carrie toyed with the idea of keeping Shasta, letting her live in the yard. That didn’t seem fair, though, since she could never let her inside. Shasta deserved to be a real pet with her own home and a family. She deserved better.
Carrie started hanging out at the garage, even though she hadn’t opened it again and wouldn’t until the filming of Dangerous concluded later in the month. It felt uncomfortable to have so much time on her hands, and Hub agreed. He stopped in one day and found her listlessly thumbing through a parts catalog, with Shasta lying at her feet.
He bent to pet the dog, who wagged her tail enthusiastically as she always did when Hub was involved. “Hey, Carrie,” he said, easing onto a stool beside the counter. “What’s doing?”
“Same old same old,” she told him. “How about you?”
“I’m so bored, I’ve started doing a few oil changes on my own out in our old barn. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I guess you’ll bring those customers back with you when we reopen, won’t you?”
“Oh, sure. I can’t wait. There’s just so many talk shows I can watch on TV. Plus, the guys pester me to go hunting with them all the time, but I don’t like to hunt.”
“Stop by the home place and visit with me sometime. Bring the kids,” Carrie said.
“Even when you’ve got company? As in Luke Mason?”
She eyed him uneasily. “What have you heard about that?”
“Only that you spend a lot of time together.”
She blew out a long breath of air. “Who says?”
“You might as well take an ad out in the Yewville Messenger when you’re riding around town in a bright-red Ferrari with a handsome movie star,” Hub replied.
“And here I thought the Mess was only interested in the size of my cucumbers,” she said dryly.
“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but what’s going to happen when the movie people leave Yewville?” Hub asked quietly.
She was at a loss to reply, but she knew that probably everyone else in town was wondering the same thing. She turned her back so that Hub wouldn’t notice the emotions playing out on her face.
“Luke goes his way and I go mine.” It pained her to form this likely eventuality into words.
“He’d better not hurt you,” Hub said in all seriousness. “Around here we don’t take kindly to people who wound one of our own.”
She made light of this. “It’s a consensual relationship, Hub. We’re equal partners. What’s to say I’m not going to hurt him?”
“I don’t go for anyone hurting anyone. But I expect you know that. I’ll bring the kids by someday like you said, Carrie. I’ll call first to make sure it’s okay with you.”
To make sure the coast is clear, Carrie thought but didn’t say.
As if that weren’t enough to think about, Dixie’s Mustang squealed to a stop outside shortly after Hub left. Dixie was elated to find Carrie in her office.
“Carrie, guess what! Luke called me today and asked if I have a house suitable for his parents to rent for a few months. I told him about the Winder place, and he suggested that I send photos! How about that?”
Carrie remained cool. “That’s wonderful,” she told Dixie. “He mentioned that moving them here was a possibility and would be a good way for him to spend more time with them.”
“It’ll give you a way to get to know them, too.”
“That isn’t the purpose,” Carrie informed her, slamming the catalog closed. “He’s worried about their health.”
Dixie regarded her with amusement. “You can find more w
ays around a subject than anyone in creation.”
“And the subject is?” Carrie asked impatiently.
“You and Luke,” Dixie reminded her.
“Dixie, you already know all there is to know.”
“I’ve noticed the way he looks at you. As if you’re a tall drink of water on a long hot day.”
“That’s colorfully romantic, but don’t make anything of it.”
Dixie backed off at that. “I want to tell you about Luke and the Winder place. Any chance of getting together for dinner at my apartment some night this week?”
“Any night,” Carrie said with a notable lack of enthusiasm. The truth was that her days and nights were flat and boring without Luke. If he didn’t return until a week from today, that would be 168 hours and 10,080 minutes until she saw him, more or less. And he hadn’t said exactly when he’d be back.
“Let’s have dinner tomorrow. Joyanne can come, too, and she’ll tell you all about how Tiffany put her in touch with her agent.”
“Now, that’s electrifying news.” Carrie was happy to hear it.
“Joyanne’s real excited. She’s already choosing her wardrobe to go to Hollywood.”
“Maybe you can lend her your red silk dress,” Carrie suggested impishly.
Dixie wadded up a bit of paper and threw it at her sister on her way out the door. “I might as well, since I never have a chance to wear it. Bye, Carrie.”
Carrie smiled and waved. At least maybe one of them would gain something lasting out of this episode with the movie people.
Not that she’d expected Luke to love her, of course. But it would have been right nice.
LUKE AND HIS PARENTS arrived in Yewville several days later. As Luke turned to give his mother a hand down the stairs of the plane, his eyes sought Carrie and found her standing at the door to the airport’s small cinder-block office building. She waved enthusiastically. His eyes lit up, and he smiled and winked as a photographer purported to be from some Hollywood fan magazine snapped pictures. Carrie winked back at Luke and waved again, all but hopping up and down in her eagerness to touch him, but it was a bittersweet meeting, knowing as she did that eventually he’d be leaving for good.
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