Love. Sometimes it was more a four-letter word than a feeling.
* * *
Chelsea finally called early Sunday afternoon.
“Did you get my letter?” Adam asked.
“Yes, I did.”
She sounded more cautious than angry so he had to be making progress. “Will you see me? We could go out to dinner,” he said. “I’ll take you to Schwangau.”
“I can’t. I have plans.”
Not with Dennis the Menace, please. “With who?”
“With the women from work.”
“Oh.” Edged out by a bunch of women. That sucked.
“They’re coming here. We’re having a plant exchange.”
Everyone was welcome at his place but him. A week ago that would have really pissed him off. “Monday, then.”
“It’s Memorial Day. Anyway, Schwangau is closed on Mondays. You know that.”
“Okay, Tuesday. Will you go out with me on Tuesday?”
“Are you sure you won’t be too busy working...or whatever?” she taunted.
How many times had he forgotten to tell her he had to work late or taken coworkers out for a drink and left her home waiting, always assuming she’d understand? How many times had he gone fishing, either up in Alaska or here at home, figuring she wouldn’t care? Obviously, too many.
“You’re the most important person in my life,” he said. No bull.
“All right.”
He’d scored. It was all he could do not to let out a whoop. “I’ll make reservations now. Pick you up at seven.” He had to go visit his accounts in Seattle that day, but if he knocked off early, there wouldn’t be as much traffic on the road. It was only a two-hour drive. He’d get back to Icicle Falls in plenty of time....
Or not. Everything went wrong on Tuesday. It took longer than he’d expected to make his rounds and instead of being done early he got on the road half an hour later than he’d planned. But okay, he could still get there by seven.
On I-90 he had a flat tire. By the time he’d finished changing it, he was sweaty and cranky. Why did stuff like this only happen when you had to be someplace?
He’d barely gotten on the road again when an accident turned the freeway into a parking lot. And now it was six-thirty and he was stuck in traffic. The last thing he wanted to do was call his wife and tell her he was running late. What could he say? How could he spin this? Somebody stole my car. And mugged me. I’m at the police station.... I’m in the emergency room, I was hit by a truck.... Or the truth. You’re not going to believe this but I’m stuck in traffic.
Neither option sounded good. Still, he had to say something. He decided to go with the truth.
She didn’t bother with hello when she picked up. Instead, she went straight to, “Where are you, Adam?”
“I’m stuck in traffic.”
“You’re still in Seattle?”
“No, I’m on I-90.”
“You’re in Seattle.”
“Look, I got done later than I thought I would.” But only half an hour. If it hadn’t been for the flat and this traffic snarl he’d have made it home in plenty of time.
“Gee, what a surprise. And then I bet you just had to take someone out for a drink.”
“No. Then I had a flat tire.”
“Right,” she said, her voice dripping scorn.
“I did. And now I’m stuck in traffic.”
“Oh, please. How dumb do you think I am? You may as well just admit you forgot. You haven’t changed at all and I still come in second after...everything.” Before he could insist that wasn’t true, she ended the call.
“I have, too, changed!” He called her back. Of course she didn’t answer. She probably had steam coming out of her ears. He should have knocked off at three, not tried to go back to Virginia Mason and catch Dr. Rogers. That had cost him an hour. And now, here he was, crawling along at the pace of a dying slug.
“Leave me a message,” her recorded voice instructed him.
“I’m not lying. I’m stuck in traffic,” he growled, and gave the car horn an aggressive honk to prove it. Which prompted the guy in front of him to stick his hand out the window and give Adam the finger. “Dude, you’re not telling me anything I don’t know,” he grumbled.
Six forty-five. He should have been driving over to pick up Chelsea right about now. Tonight they’d have had a romantic dinner, he’d have promised to do better, presented her with the emerald necklace he’d bought her for their anniversary. Then they’d have gone home and made love.
No lovemaking tonight. No dinner, no chance to see his wife’s face light up at the sight of her belated but stellar present. He was back at square one. He swore and pounded the dashboard with his fist.
This was not fair and he didn’t have a clue what he was going to do about it.
But sitting here on the freeway, he sure had lots of time to think of something.
Chapter Twelve
Adam was on his way to visit his accounts in Idaho when Chelsea called him. “I checked on the internet. There was an accident on I-90 last night.”
Vindicated! “Did you really think I was lying to you?”
“I thought you were looking for an excuse.”
After everything he’d been doing to try to get her talk to him? Either his wife thought he was the biggest idiot on the planet or he’d worn her trust down so close to the bone there was none left. Neither possibility made him feel good.
“If you want to go out, we can,” she said.
At last, an open door. If only it had opened when he was still in town. “I’m on my way to Boise,” he said.
“When you get back then. Friday?”
“Friday is poker night.”
“What?”
Had he just said that out loud? “Nothing. Friday is perfect. I’ll make reservations at Schwangau for seven.”
“You sure you’ll be back in time?”
“Absolutely. I’m coming home Thursday.”
“Okay,” she said dubiously.
“I’ll be there,” he assured her.
* * *
It was three in the afternoon on Thursday and Adam was zipping down the freeway when his trusty company car decided it no longer wanted to be trustworthy. He limped off the freeway to the nearest auto repair shop.
“Well, good news,” said the head mechanic after keeping Adam waiting an hour. “It’s only a fan belt.”
Adam breathed a sigh of relief. “Great.” It shouldn’t take long to put in a fan belt. He could probably be on the road in an hour.
“We don’t have that particular belt in stock so we’ll have to order it.”
What was with his life lately? Had some gremlin put a kick-me sign on his butt? “How long will that take?”
“I’ll order it now. We’ll have it first thing tomorrow.”
If they got going first thing in the morning and were done by nine he’d still be okay. He’d drive like a madman and make it back to Icicle Falls by six-thirty, with a half hour to spare. “How long will it take to fix?”
The mechanic shrugged. “An hour or so. Part should be here by ten. We’ll have you on the road by eleven.”
Eleven? “That’s too late. I’ve got to get home to Washington. My wife—”
The mechanic, a middle-aged family man type, pointed a finger at him and completed his sentence before he could. “Is having a baby. Right? Due any day?”
“Well, no.”
The guy looked disappointed. “So she’s...sick?”
“Uh, no. But we’ve got an important dinner.”
“Oh, your anniversary.”
That sounded better than a let-me-come-back-home dinner so Adam said, “Yeah. And it’s really important I be there.”<
br />
The mechanic was now the picture of a man ready to bust his hump to help another man stay out of trouble with his wife. “I hear you.”
“So can you get me on the road any sooner?”
The mechanic shook his head sadly. “Afraid not. You’d better change your plans to Saturday.”
Okay, they could go out Saturday. After all, it wasn’t his fault that the car had crapped out.
“Meanwhile, we can give you a loaner,” said the mechanic. “There’s a nice Best Western just down the road.”
Adam got his loaner car, checked into a motel room and then made the dreaded call to his wife.
“Why are you calling?” she asked suspiciously.
“Because I...” She’s not gonna believe you. Lie! “I couldn’t get a reservation for Friday.”
“Really?” she said, a world of scorn in her voice. “I wonder if you’re having trouble getting a reservation because Friday is poker night.”
“What? No! No, that’s not it.”
“You can always get a reservation for a Friday when you call a couple of days ahead.”
“Well, I couldn’t this time,” Adam insisted.
“Adam, you’re lying. I can tell.”
“I’m not lying,” he lied.
She ended the call, leaving him talking to the dial tone.
He was going to have to tell her the truth, fantastical as it sounded. He called her again.
“What?” she snapped.
“You’re right, I was lying. But I was lying because if I tell you the truth you’ll think I made it up.”
“Try me.”
“I’m stuck in Idaho. My car died and I need a new fan belt. They can’t get the part until tomorrow and God knows when they’ll get the car fixed.”
“You could’ve told me that in the first place,” she said. “I’d have believed you.”
Just like she had when he was stuck in traffic.
“I always know when you’re inventing stuff.”
No, she didn’t. In the past he’d told some fibs and sweet-talked his way out of trouble more than once. He decided to not to argue the point.
“I’ll make it up to you on Saturday,” he said. “Seven o’clock.”
“Okay.” But her tone of voice added, “And you’d better not screw up.”
* * *
“Where’s Adam?” asked Kyle as the men settled around Jonathan’s table with their cards and their snacks.
“On his way home from Idaho,” Jonathan said. “His car crapped out.”
“First his wife, now his car. He’s sure having bad luck lately,” Kyle said.
“When it comes to women, there is no such thing as bad luck, my friend,” Bernardo informed him. “You either put in the work and are rewarded or you don’t and you lose.”
“Not buying that theory,” Vance said as he dealt the cards. “Sometimes bad luck comes in like Godzilla and stomps everything to shit.”
What had happened, Jonathan wondered, to make him such a cynic? He suspected Vance had a story to tell but he didn’t ask. Unlike his sister, he didn’t believe in butting into somebody else’s business. If Vance wanted them to know about his love life, he’d say something.
“I agree with Vance,” Kyle said as he anted up. “Here I thought I was going to Jillian’s, and it turns out that dinner invite was from...another woman.” He frowned. “Sometimes a man hasn’t done anything wrong but he still loses.”
“You don’t think chasing after the wrong woman is doing something wrong?” Bernardo countered.
Kyle frowned. “What are you saying?”
“He’s saying maybe you’re fishing in the wrong stream,” Vance explained.
“You know,” Bernardo said, “before I met my Anna, there was this girl. Whoo, man, she was muy caliente. I was so sure I was in love with her.”
“Yeah? What happened?” Kyle asked, throwing in a poker chip.
Bernardo shrugged. “She liked my best friend more.”
I feel your pain, Jonathan thought.
“Why didn’t you get in there and fight and take her away?” Kyle asked.
“That is a fight you think I would have won?” Bernardo sounded incredulous. “No, when a woman is determined on a man, that is the man she gets.”
“Well, that stinks,” Kyle said, and scowled at the cards in his hand.
“Oh, at the time, sí, it does. But things have a way of working out. You let go of that one and someone even better comes along. A year later I met my Anna and she was perfect for me.”
“And what about the other woman?” Kyle asked, throwing in a blue chip. “What happened to her?”
“She married my friend. They had six girls. Oh, that house, every day there is drama. And my poor old friend, he is always in trouble. No, I am happy with the woman I got and I’m glad things didn’t work out the way I wanted. It would have been me being nagged and yelled at because I wasn’t making enough money. So, you see, when it comes to women, there is no such thing as bad luck,” Bernardo concluded.
Jonathan and Kyle chuckled. Vance, however, didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, he threw in two blue chips. “I’ll raise that by four bits.”
What had happened to Vance to make him so bitter? Whatever it was, Jonathan hoped it wasn’t contagious.
“Well, I’m gonna create my own good luck,” Kyle said. Then he frowned. “There must be some way I can get Jillian’s attention.”
“Read Wooing Willow when Adam’s done with it,” Bernardo suggested.
“I don’t have time to wait for Adam to be done with it.”
“Then buy the damn book,” Vance said. Everyone folded and the pot was his. “You all are such a bunch of cheapskates,” he muttered as he raked in the chips.
“I’m not,” Jonathan protested. “I’ve spent a fortune on books.”
“Good man,” Vance approved. “You’re helping some hard-working writer pay her bills.”
Jonathan had never thought about whoever wrote those books needing to earn a living. He’d been more concerned with learning something. Now he was glad he’d laid down some hard-earned money for the latest novels he’d been consuming.
“Hey, I’ve been buying books, too,” Kyle said. He shook his head. “I don’t know how the men in those stories think up all those cool things to say.”
“That’s easy,” Jonathan said. “They’re written by women, who put the words in their mouths.”
“How do you learn that stuff?” Kyle asked. “I mean, I’m reading it but I haven’t got a clue about applying it. How do you know what to say to get a woman to fall for you? There oughta be an app.”
Jonathan grabbed his smartphone. “Let’s ask Ida.”
“Who’s Ida?” Bernardo asked.
“Not a who, a what,” Jonathan told him. “It stands for Instant Data Acquired. It’s an app, a quick reference. You ask Ida a question, she finds the answer.”
Bernardo whistled in admiration. “No kidding,” he said.
“You can ask it anything from ‘Who was the fourteenth president of the United States?’ to ‘Where can I hide a body?’” Jonathan continued.
“You’ll have better luck asking it where to hide a body,” Vance said.
Jonathan brought up the app, held the phone to his face and asked, “What do women want to hear?”
“May as well use a Ouija board,” Vance continued.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you with that,” said a female voice, making Bernardo laugh.
“That’s because it’s impossible,” Kyle grumbled.
“Stick with the books,” Bernardo advised as Kyle dealt the cards for the next hand. “And then practice what you read,” he added, dredging a potato chip through the onion dip. His platter
of veggies sat on Jonathan’s counter, completely ignored.
“That’s great advice, except I don’t have anyone to practice on,” Jonathan complained.
“Adam’s still here. Practice on him,” Bernardo said.
“I don’t think so,” Jonathan said in disgust. He was already dancing with his sister. That was as far as he was willing to go.
“Look,” said Vance, “pick out some good lines the heroes say in those books and then memorize them.”
Jonathan thought of the line he’d written down. Okay, he was on the right track.
“A lot of those are one-size-fits-all,” Vance went on. “You can use ’em anywhere.”
Jonathan remembered a line he’d read earlier. You’re my very breath. My every heartbeat whispers your name. That pretty well summed up the way he felt about Lissa. He’d tried to move on, get a life. After all, he wanted a family, wanted someone he could spend the rest of his life with. The problem was, there was no one else like Lissa.
It had been hard to see her dating other guys over the years, but he’d known he wasn’t good enough for her. Maybe, if he was lucky, by the time he was done getting buff and becoming a real-life hero, he would be. He sure hoped so.
“Hey, are you in or out?”
Vance’s irritated voice brought Jonathan back to the game. So far he’d lost ten bucks. He figured he’d lose more before the evening was over. It wasn’t easy to outbluff Vance.
They were halfway through the night when Adam finally rolled in. “Want us to deal you in?” Kyle asked.
“The way my luck’s been running?”
“Deal him in,” Vance said with a grin.
Adam grabbed a beer and pulled up a chair. “So, what’s happening?”
“Vance is skinning us,” Kyle said.
“What else is new?”
“Nothing new with you, I guess. You’re still here,” Vance said.
“Did you read that book?” Bernardo asked.
“Yeah, I did. And Chelsea and I are going out tomorrow.”
This was encouraging news. For both Adam and Jonathan. “That’s cool,” Jonathan said.
Adam nodded. “I just hope she takes me back.”
So did Jonathan.
Romance on Mountain View Road Page 15