The Long Road Home

by H. D. Thomson

  “I used to see it on all the mags. You went under the name of Claire.” She shook her head in amazement. “This is hilarious. I’m riding with an honest-to-goodness super model!”

  The skin across Clarisse’s cheekbones and jaw tightened. “That was a long time ago.”

  “Why, you disappeared off the face of the earth.” Vivian shook her head in obvious amazement. “I seem to remember—” Something in Clarisse’s expression must have stopped her from elaborating. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I always wanted to make it as a model. I did have a taste of it in high school. I managed to do a couple of jobs locally, but nothing came of it. I guess I just never had the look.”

  The look. That was right. Clarisse’d had that look. She and her bank account were thankful for it; without it she wouldn’t be financially secure today. Hoarding every cent during her short career, plain luck, and some smart business decisions had given Clarisse the mobility and freedom of never having to work again.

  “So, is that it?” John asked, both hands on the hatch of the Explorer.

  “Yes.” Clarisse winced when he slammed the door.

  “Then let’s get going.” He turned his back, moving around to the driver’s side of the vehicle, his stride long and powerful.

  Heaving herself up onto the back seat behind Vivian, Clarisse bit her lip, cutting off her cry of pain. She struggled into a sitting position, trying to look as graceful as possible. Beads of perspiration dotted her brow and clung to her temples. She closed the door, then leaned against the leather backrest. Fighting against the exhaustion pressing down on her limbs, she slid along the back and lifted her right leg across the seat. Finally in a comfortable position, she sighed, looked up and met Jennifer’s gaze.

  “Don’t forget to give me a call.” Jennifer warned, concern etched in her face. She pointed back to the house. “Do you need any help?”

  Vehemently, Clarisse shook her head, knowing Jennifer was referring to her cane. It was going to stay on that bed until she was ready for it.

  When her best friend frowned as if in disagreement, Clarisse responded with a mouthed, “Don’t worry.”

  John stomped on the gas pedal and the Explorer jerked backward. He pulled out of the driveway and turned west. She looked out the rear window until Jennifer’s diminishing form disappeared from view.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “John tells me you’re also going to Laura and Darren’s wedding?” Vivian asked.

  “Yes,” Clarisse retorted more abruptly than she intended. She closed her eyes, attempting to ignore the dull throbbing in her leg. Then her eyes snapped open. Something wasn’t quite right with Vivian’s question. “Also? I didn’t know you knew Laura.”

  Vivian gave a deep, throaty chuckle. “I don’t. John’s the one that got the invite. Isn’t that right?”

  At his affirmative murmur, Clarisse sank lower in her seat. “Funny. Laura never mentioned you were coming.”

  “She probably didn’t think it important, or she might have just forgotten,” John said. “She sounded pretty distracted the last time I talked to her on the phone. She wanted me to photograph the wedding. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  And here she thought she’d be able to dump John in San Diego. Now it looked like she would have to endure his company throughout Laura’s wedding and reception. What fun. Thank goodness she had a ride back with her parents, because just the idea of returning with John had her cringing in horror.

  Vivian’s long, red, perfectly manicured nails appeared through the gap of the Explorer’s bucket seats. They brushed slowly across John’s forearm lying on the armrest, then caressed the back of his hand in a random pattern. It was a touch between lovers. Uncomfortable at the intimate display, Clarisse looked away and caught him watching her in the rearview mirror. She felt herself flush.

  “I hear there will be over three hundred people at the wedding,” he drawled, his brow arching in inquiry, humor lacing his words.

  Clarisse stiffened and lifted her chin. So he thought her reaction amusing, did he? “That’s right. Laura and Darren want it to be something special. Darren’s and our parents convinced them to hold off from marrying until they graduated from UCLA, so they’ve waited over four years for this day.” Clarisse looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. “Laura deserves a grand affair.”

  And she deserved a good slap across her backside, Clarisse mused. She wouldn’t put it past her sister to be in cahoots with Jennifer when it came to planning this fiasco of a trip. Laura, madly in love, probably thought it only natural that Clarisse should be mooning over some man. And her best friend was just as bad. Jennifer believed a woman wasn’t quite right in the head if she didn’t have a man around.

  “I know I could never wait that long to get married,” Vivian purred, clasping his hand. “I guess I like spontaneity, or maybe I’m just too impatient. I’d never be able to wait six months—never mind four years! If I got hold of a man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with and he felt the same, I’d have him down that aisle so fast his head would be spinning.”

  “I’m glad to hear there’s still some women out there who believe in marriage.”

  At John’s barb, Clarisse clamped her jaw shut in annoyance and looked out the window, dissociating herself from the conversation. They were out of the city now. The trees and rolling hills on each side of the highway were a vibrant green, bursting with life after an unusually cold winter. She opened the window a little to let the crisp, spring breeze tease the hair along her brow and cheeks. The scent of last night’s rain still clung to the air.

  I’ll at ease with the silence permeating the car, Clarisse pulled a novel from her purse and set out to read. This way she could politely avoid participating in any future conversation.

  After reading three chapters, though, she put the book down and closed her eyes. The motion of the car and the hum of the tires soon had her drifting off to sleep.

  The slam of the car door woke her abruptly. She jumped. Her head snapped forward, and the book on her lap tumbled to the floor.

  “I thought we’d take a break for lunch,” John said directly beside her.

  She started in surprise at finding him looking down at her with cool slate eyes, his hand resting along the top of her open door. Not thinking, she eased from the seat and stepped out into the parking lot of a restaurant. Her leg took half her weight. Her knee buckled, and she stumbled into John. He grasped her arms to steady her. Twisting around on one foot to get her balance, she swung her injured knee around, smacking him right between the legs.

  John grunted. His hands tightened on her arms. His breath, warm and smelling of coffee and peppermint, brushed her ear and ruffled her hair.

  Mortified, Clarisse arched backward and met John’s pained expression. “I’m sorry! Are you all right?”

  “Give me a second,” he murmured.

  She tried not to think how her nipples touched the hard wall of his chest or how the familiar scent of his aftershave made her remember...

  No. She’d concentrate on his Adam’s apple and the indentations of his collarbone. No. That wouldn’t work either.

  “Are you all right now?” She grew uncomfortable.

  “I—yes.” He retained a grip on her arm. “What about you? You almost took a nose dive.”

  She glanced away. A curtain of her blonde hair fell forward, obscuring her face and the pain she knew lay carved there.

  “I guess my legs must have fallen asleep right along with everything else.”

  The sound of footsteps made Clarisse turn. She found an unsmiling Vivian on their side of the truck. Guilt sent a warm blush to Clarisse’s cheeks as she and John drew away from each other. His hand dropped to his side, but the heat from his fingers still burned into her flesh.

  “I—” Clarisse closed her mouth. There was no reason for her to explain, especially when there was nothing to explain. “I’ve got to check a couple of things in my bag. It might take a minute. Why don’t I m
eet you both inside?”

  After she watched them disappear into the building, she rummaged in her purse for her painkillers and tissues. She swallowed two pills and used a Kleenex to wipe the perspiration from her brow. Impatiently pulling at the material clinging to her back, she waited until she thought they were seated at a table. Then she grabbed her purse and closed the door. She scanned the restaurant’s glass doors and wall of windows for John and Vivian. Unable to find them, Clarisse took a deep breath and limped across the parking lot. Once in the lobby, she clenched her jaw and moved slowly and as gracefully as she could. She found them sitting at the back of the room. Not that far to walk, Clarisse convinced herself.

  By the time she slid into a chair directly across from John and to the right of Vivian, a new film of perspiration clung to her brow. A silent groan of relief eased from her parted lips as her weight lifted from her leg. She was beginning to regret leaving her cane behind. Vanity was turning into a hellish experience.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” John’s gaze raked her face.

  “Why, you’re as pale as a sheet.” A frown pleated Vivian’s brow. “Why don’t you have some water?” She flagged down a waiter. “Can you get her some water? The poor girl’s wilting.”

  “I’m fine.” Clarisse forced a laugh. The sound seemed fake even to her ears.

  “You don’t look fine,” Vivian persisted, reaching across the table and placing the back of her hand against Clarisse’s forehead. “Your skin’s hot and clammy. Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?”

  Clarisse pulled back at the unexpected touch. “Seriously, there’s no reason to cause such a commotion.” Her stomach knotted at Vivian’s persistence. She wondered whether her behavior in some way hinted at the injury to her leg. “I’m not sick, just a little tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I waited until the last minute to pack.”

  She reached for the glass of water the waiter placed in front of her. Ice cubes rattled. Clarisse steadied her trembling hand and brought the glass to her lips. She met John’s gaze over its rim and didn’t like how he was watching her. That impassive expression of his had always been a bad sign. It usually meant his mind was working the hardest.

  “Vivian, why don’t you leave the poor woman alone?” Amusement softened his features. “I think she’s becoming alarmed at your nursing antics.”

  Vivian sat back in her chair. “Sorry about that. I guess I tend to get a little carried away since I started taking a couple of classes at a medical college. I’ve been thinking of trying my hand at something else since modeling fizzled out for me.”

  Clarisse drained the rest of her drink and put the glass on the table.

  “Well, it looks like I was right.” Vivian beamed. “That water did the trick. You look better already. I’m going to freshen up. All this driving.”

  The redhead wove through the tables, poised and turning many a male head. Her red hair flowed down around her, as vivid as the last rays of a sunset over the horizon before fading to dusk. Silence, awkward and heavy with tension, followed Vivian’s departure.

  “She’s very beautiful,” Clarisse said.

  “You sound envious.”

  She turned startled eyes to John. “Do I?”

  “You shouldn’t be. Hell, you know you’re just as beautiful as her or any other woman out there. As a model, you had something many didn’t. Elegance, sophistication. Just a touch of aloofness. It’s what set you apart. Why else would you have gotten paid top dollar?”

  Yes, she had been in demand. She hated being reminded of what she once had. She rubbed her right thigh self-consciously. But that was years ago, and held no bearing now. “I see you haven’t changed. Still thinking about appearances. You always liked beautiful things around you. Including people.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  The question snapped her mouth closed. No, he hadn’t changed. Beauty meant everything to him. She could imagine the look of repugnance on his face if he ever saw her leg. She couldn’t handle that, not from John. And she swore she wouldn’t.

  “No. Nothing’s wrong with that, but it gives you a limited view on the world,” Clarisse explained, her voice rising. “There are other things out there that are ugly and hideous. But they have a purpose or necessity. Just because—” She broke off when John looked at her oddly. She shrugged and lapsed into silence. She’d been raving like a lunatic.

  Clarisse searched for a safe topic. “So, do you still live over on Johnston Street?” she asked, though she already knew the answer. At a weak moment, a few months after their breakup, she had dialed his home and found the line no longer in service.

  “No. I bought a place not far from there. It’s not very big. A townhouse. Just enough room for one person. It’s not what I envisioned for myself. I’d always thought—” John shook his head, then shrugged. “What about you? You’re not still living in the top of that old Victorian house, are you?” A sudden dimple formed in his right cheek as he smiled across the table at her. His teeth gleamed even and white, a dentist’s optimal example of good hygiene. “That landlady—and I use that term loosely—was a character. Every time I turned around, I swear she was watching me from the side yard or one of the windows.”

  Clarisse’s lips curved. “I think she had a crush on you. Why else would she use any little excuse to come by?” Her smile turned rueful. “She wasn’t that bad, but it was just as well I had to move out. She had a tendency to be a little too forceful and domineering.”

  “What do you mean that you had to? She didn’t evict you, did she?”

  “No, of course not!” She pulled back from the table. What a stupid slip. She couldn’t very well tell him she moved out because she couldn’t walk up and down the stairs to her rooms any longer, now could she? “Her niece moved to New York because of a scholarship. She needed a place to stay, and my lease was running out. Everything seemed to fit.” One white lie wouldn’t hurt anyone. The woman did have a niece going to college. “I’m living in a house with a large yard and minutes from Jennifer’s place. It’s peaceful. It reminds me of those picnics we used to have over at—”

  The dimple in his cheek disappeared, and his eyes cooled to the color of overcast, wintry skies. The smile on her own face dissolved. She was really blubbering today. Maybe she should just shut up.

  She dropped her gaze to the table and focused on the silverware by her hand. She fingered the metal with trembling hands and glanced to where Vivian had disappeared. What was the woman doing in there—other than the obvious? She opened the menu lying by her side and hid behind it. She perused the available items. Pictures of thick juicy hamburgers, steaks, buttered potatoes turned her stomach. She didn’t think she could hold down anything solid. After a couple of minutes of hiding and no sign of Vivian, she put down the menu. “I think I’ll freshen up too. If the waiter comes by while I’m gone, I’ll have the Chef’s salad and a diet soda.”

  She escaped the table and John’s relieved look. Teeth clenched, she strode through the tables without limping. She found Vivian leaning across the sink, looking into the mirror and dabbing a paper towel beneath her eye. When Vivian caught sight of Clarisse’s reflection, she snapped the faucet closed with a bang and tossed the towel in the trash. She tore angrily at another sheet from the paper towel dispenser.

  “What’s wrong?” Clarisse asked.

  “I can’t find my make-up bag anywhere. There’s no way I can travel for days without my paint.”

  Clarisse nodded, finding it odd to get so emotional over a missing makeup bag. Not knowing what to say, she kept silent.

  After drying her hands, Vivian tossed her mangled paper towel into the waste bin. She then turned, leaned a hip across the counter, and regarded Clarisse with narrowed blue eyes. “You’ve met John before today, haven’t you?”

  Clarisse dragged in a breath of air and rubbed tiredly at her brow. She didn’t feel up to dealing with a confrontation. “Yes.”

  “And
what?”

  Spine stiffening at Vivian’s antagonistic stance, Clarisse retorted, “And nothing. John and I might have had something once, but it was a long time ago. I doubt if we have anything in common now, so you can stop worrying about me encroaching into your territory.”

  Vivian shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come across bitchy.”

  “That’s okay,” Clarisse said. “It’s already forgotten.”

  “It’s just that he never talks about his old friends or much of anything when it comes to his past. Has he always been like that?”

  Clarisse’s breathing grew shallow. Her hand gripped the counter. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss John.

  “I don’t know,” Clarisse said in frustration. She stepped into the stall and closed the door to halt further discussion. When she heard the door close from Vivian, she inhaled a shaky breath and tried to calm down.

  ****

  The rest of the day was long and tiring. After so many hours in the confines of the Explorer, even Vivian found little to talk about. Dinner turned out to be a burger from a fast food chain, which suited Clarisse. If it meant getting to San Diego sooner, then she was all for it.

  It was almost eleven by the time they reached the motel for the night. Keeping her leg in one position for hours had turned her thigh and calf into a throbbing mass of raw nerves. The pain shortened her temper, and she feared any little upset would turn her into a snarling lunatic.

  So it came as a great relief to discover her room next to John and Vivian’s was on the ground floor. John, ever a gentleman, carried the women’s overnight bags. After he dropped hers by her door, everyone said their good-byes and separated for the night.

  Clarisse flipped on the light and closed her door. Two queen-sized beds took up most of the room. A white Formica table and two chairs sat in the corner. The place looked sterile. She dropped her night case on the floor by the closest bed and limped into the bathroom. Leaning against the cabinet sink, she splashed cold water on her face and looked in the mirror. The harsh fluorescent light from overhead magnified the dark smudges under her eyes and the pallor of her complexion. She looked like a two-day-old corpse. No wonder John and Vivian kept asking her if she was sick. She would have to slap a ton of makeup on her face tomorrow morning if she wanted to look anywhere near human.