The Long Road Home

by H. D. Thomson

  “Have Clarisse drive it!”

  “Now, what a minute here. No one ever mentioned me driving,” Clarisse interjected.

  Still on her knees, Vivian twisted around and glared. “I didn’t ask you!”

  Clarisse jerked back in her seat, while the dog in her lap growled a response. Obviously, the woman was at her wits end.

  “See what I mean?” Vivian huffed. “The thing’s growling at me. I never asked for that. And no one said that I’d be driving around with animals or getting flat tires or having the air-conditioner break. I don’t want to stick around to find out what else is going to happen.”

  “Have you realized you’re not the only person’s who’s had enough!”

  The nasty tone of John’s voice silenced her, and she sank back in her seat. Clarisse closed her eyes in relief. Blessed silence. It seemed John had managed to shut Vivian up. But for how long?

  It lasted until the airport.

  “Come with me,” Vivian pleaded once John pulled into the departure zone. Exhaust fumes drifted into the open windows while horns honked sporadically.

  “I can’t.” The weariness in his voice was unmistakable.

  “Please? I’ll make it up to you.” A suggestive smile curving her lips, Vivian twirled her finger in a lock of John’s midnight hair.

  “Sorry.” He shook his head and pulled away from her hand.

  Clarisse shifted in embarrassment. She disliked listening to such an intimate conversation, especially when it involved John. And seeing Vivian touch him that way set her teeth on edge.

  John stepped from the Explorer. As he pulled Vivian’s luggage from the back, she folded both arms across the opened window by Clarisse and leaned forward. Her lips curled into a sneer. “Don’t think this is over. Far from it. I told you John’s mine, and I’m not about to let him go for some two-bit woman in heat. If I hear you’ve made a move on him, I’ll make sure you pay. I still need John to photograph my portfolio. With his name behind me, I know I can make it as a model.” Her face twisted into an ugly mask. “Just wait and see if I don’t find out something in New York. You’ve been hiding something, and I know—given enough time—I’ll find out what it is. Maybe then you won’t be so damn pompous!”

  Speechless, Clarisse watched her disappear from view. Well, really. Vivian had given everyone the impression that she wasn’t interested in modeling. And, she suspected, Vivian hadn’t yet confided to John that she wanted his help in launching her career. The question was, would she be able to talk him into putting together a composite? After all, he was out of the modeling business—or so he said.

  “Go ahead and change seats while we’re gone. I’ll be back in a bit,” John called before snapping the hatch shut.

  She didn’t hear Vivian’s good-bye, but then again she wasn’t expecting a fond farewell from the woman.

  Mentally exhausted from Vivian’s tirade, she slumped against the seat and decided not to concern herself with Vivian and John. As to Vivian’s motives, he would find out soon enough, and when that happened, the redhead was in for an unpleasant surprise. John hated being manipulated.

  Closing her eyes, she let silence, devoid of tension and animosity, enfold her. She tried to relax under its calming influence, but now that there were no added diversions around her, she became conscious of her leg. Pain shot out from her knee in deep, rippling spasms.

  Unable to ignore it, Clarisse rummaged in her purse for her painkillers. She should wait another hour as the prescription directed, but she took two anyway, then nearly gagged as they went down her throat.

  When would it all end? She was so sick of her leg, the pain, the pills, but most importantly she was sick of her disfigurement and acting as if it didn’t exist. Impatiently, she wiped away tears. Self-pity wasn’t the answer.

  She should look on the bright side, Clarisse berated herself as she absently scratched behind Toto’s ears. Vivian was gone. She looked down at the dog’s big brown eyes and gave him a wobbly smile. “But I don’t know if I should be happy or sad that she left. Now it’ll be John and me. Just the two of us with no distractions…other than you, of course.”

  She eased out of the back seat and scrambled awkwardly into the front. The dog joined her, curling up on her lap.

  John slipped into the driver’s side, his long legs stretching out in front of him. His broad shoulders swallowed the limited space between them, pressing in on her. She inhaled the clean woodsy smell of his aftershave, and closed her eyes against the desire that unfurled deep in her belly.

  She blinked back new tears. She didn’t know how she would get through the next couple of days alone with him. Just sitting beside him sent her pulse racing, and they’d been alone in the car for less than a minute. The next hours rolled endlessly ahead.

  No. Her chin inched upward. She would get through these next two days, and John would never suspect she was falling for him all over again.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  She met his raised brow with a determined smile. Even though he appeared relaxed, she sensed the tension in his corded muscles. In the smoky depths of his eyes, she read weariness and a touch of sadness. Vivian’s departure must have hurt.

  “Can you grab the map in the glove compartment and tell me what interstate to get on?”

  She pulled out the map and folded it on her lap. Red and blue lines melded together. She squinted and rubbed her forehead. The pills, heat and fatigue were getting to her. She found Albuquerque and slapped a finger on the paper.

  “Go ahead and go north on 25.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The paper rattled as she flattened out the creases. She squinted at the spidery lines. So many of them, all colored in blues, grays and reds. “It says it right here.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. Then you want to take 44. You need to keep on that past 4. It will take us to Farmington.”

  “I don’t remember Farmington.”

  She smiled confidently to ease his doubts. “Probably because it’s a small town.” She refolded the map and put it away, then sank lower in the front seat and promptly fell asleep.

  “Clarisse?”

  She mumbled something and slapped the hand shaking her shoulder. She wanted to be left alone and slink bank into sleep’s cozy cocoon.

  “Clarisse. Wake up.” The hand on her shoulder turned persistent.

  “Who—what?” She came out of her stupor and looked around. Desert sagebrush dotted hills touched gold from the setting sun. A brisk breeze flowed through the windows. She shivered and rubbed her arms.

  “Grab that map for me.”

  She pulled it out of the glove box and snapped on the overhead light.

  “I’m trying to find out where I’m at. We’re still in New Mexico, and by now we should have crossed the border into Arizona. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  A green sign flashed by. Farmington, ten miles.

  Clarisse peered at the map and found Albuquerque. Farmington was a small dot north of it. She swallowed with difficulty. Oh, hell. She couldn’t believe her stupidity. And here she had thought the trip couldn’t get much worse with Vivian gone. Ah! “I think we’re on the wrong road.”

  “What? I don’t think I heard you right.”

  She tensed at John’s quiet, yet ominous voice. “We’re supposed to get on Interstate 40.”

  “So what you’re trying to tell me is that I’ve been on the wrong road for a couple of hours now?”

  She sighed, ignoring the heavy sarcasm in his voice. “That about sums it up.”

  “Damn it! Do you know what this means? The delay—”

  “Sorry,” she muttered tersely, squinting through the windshield at the darkening sky and graying hills. Tears burned the back of her eyes. “But you don’t have to take it out on me. It’s not my fault.”

  “Then please—by all means—fill me in on who gave me the directions.”

  She struggled for inner streng
th. “Okay. I can’t point a figure at anyone but myself. But there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

  “You’re right. We’ll have to stay the night in Farmington.” He shook his head, disgust evident in his face and voice. “This trip has been—forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

  Tension gripped the muscles in her back, and she closed her eyes against tears of self-pity. But they came anyway, seeping through her lashes to roll past her cheeks. She looked down at her lap, letting her blonde hair fall forward to shield her face.

  It was obvious he wanted to be anywhere but in the car with her. And who could blame him? She hadn’t been exactly the best traveler by dragging around a dog they didn’t need and possibly instigating a wedge between him and Vivian. Now because of her, they were stuck together for even longer.

  After a lengthy pause, John said grudgingly, “Maybe after a good night’s rest, we’ll both be better in the morning.”

  She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. This was crazy, but she couldn’t get a hold of herself. The stress of battling Vivian, her feelings for John and the pain in her leg were finally catching up to her.

  “Hey, are you crying?”

  “Of course not.” She sniffed and looked determinedly out the window. The last thing she wanted was for John to see her in such a state and think of her as some blubbering idiot.

  “Yes you are.”

  In disbelief, she watched the landscape slow to a standstill. He pulled the Explorer to the shoulder. Fingers twisting in her lap, she struggled vainly to staunch her rising panic. She couldn’t handle prying questions right now.

  She sensed his gaze boring into the back of her head. A tissue appeared at the bottom of her vision. She took it with trembling hands.

  “Come on, Clarisse. Look at me. Tell me what’s bothering you.” His soothing voice washed over her. “You’ve acted remarkably well with everything happening. I don’t think I’ve heard you complain once. Hell knows, you’ve had cause.”

  She sniffed and rubbed at her cheeks, then turned. The sun’s fading rays caressed John’s face to liquid gold, softening his square jaw and prominent cheekbones and illuminating the gentle concern in his eyes. For some stupid reason, she wanted to cry that much more.

  “I guess I’m not handling things very well right now,” she managed to get out. “I’ve had a hard time with you and me and—”

  “You don’t have to explain. I think I understand.” He looked tense and a little unsure. “How about we both try to forget the past, the anger and everything else that went with it and start fresh—or at least try. I think it’ll make things easier for the next couple of days. How about it, hmm?”

  She nodded silently, her lips curving into a wobbly smile.

  “That’s better.” The tension in his expression softened, and he smiled. Almost tenderly, he brushed a remaining tear from her cheek with his knuckle. “For a minute there, you scared me. Other than watching Casablanca on the television, I’d never seen you cry.”

  But then, he never saw her after she severed their relationship. She had cried like a fool, cried so much that she ran out of tears. Clarisse’s stomach growled loudly. Her eyes widened at the unexpected noise.

  “From the sounds of things,” his lips twisted in mild amusement, “we better stop off and get something to eat. It sounds like your stomach isn’t going to hold out for much longer. Can you last until we find a hotel?”

  “Sure.” The muscles in her shoulders and back relaxed, and she inhaled a deep, calming breath. Maybe the next couple of days were not going to be so bad.

  Almost a half-hour later, John pulled into a motel that allowed small pets. Carrying the dog under one arm, Clarisse followed John to her room. She slipped past him while he dropped her bags at the door.

  “I’ll get rid of my stuff. After a shower, I’ll be back to pick you up for dinner.”

  The door closed behind him, and Clarisse placed the dog on the floor and glanced around. A round table with two gold, padded chairs rested in the corner, while an oak dresser with mirror sat across from the queen-sized bed. She ignored the mirror, not wanting to confirm a ravaged face caused from crying, and eyed the bed with longing. Rather than give in to temptation and lie down on the green and gold flowered bedspread, she forced her body into the bathroom.

  She stripped and stepped under the shower. But the water drumming against her face and back failed to rejuvenate the sluggishness from her mind and body. But what did she expect after carrying on like an emotional lunatic? All that crying had left her mentally battered. Thank goodness John had been so patient and understanding.

  At least her leg wasn’t troubling her. Only a dull ache throbbed in and around her knee. She could live with the slight discomfort. After five knee surgeries, this kind of pain was more a nuisance than anything else.

  She changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a cream blouse, and applied a light foundation to hide the circles beneath her eyes. She was combing the last tangles from her hair when someone knocked. She opened the door and John strode in. His raven locks were slicked back from a recent shower and the dark shadow along his jaw had disappeared. His aftershave drifted to her, its scent clean, masculine, and…familiar. How sad. After all this time she still remembered the scent of his aftershave.

  “Are you ready to go?” His gaze slid slowly over her features. “Or did you want to stay in and order pizza? You look exhausted.”

  “Thanks for being so blunt.” She met his sheepish smile with one of her own. “Staying in sounds fantastic. I’d probably slide off my chair in a restaurant.”

  “Then it’s pizza.”

  While Clarisse sat down in one of the chairs, he cupped the receiver between his shoulder and chin. “Pepperoni, cheese, and bacon on half?” He glanced up, caught her nod and ran a finger over the telephone’s yellow pages.

  He hadn’t even noticed, Clarisse mused in wonder. His question had been unconscious and automatic. Without realizing it, he remembered her favorite ingredients. She didn’t know if it held any significance. She just didn’t know what to think.

  He hung up and joined her at the table. The silence between them lengthened with each passing second. Clarisse found an unnatural amount of interest in a hangnail on her thumb. Maybe it would have been better to go out. A hotel room, no matter how she tried to think otherwise, was provocative. She didn’t dare glance at the bed.

  Even though John might think they could start fresh, Clarisse had doubts. She didn’t know how to talk to an intimate stranger. And he was a stranger. People did change in three years.

  She glanced away from her thumb in disgust. A hangnail could hold only so much interest. The television caught her attention. A perfect tool to hide behind. “Is there anything good scheduled for tonight?”

  “Let’s see.” He seemed to jump at the excuse. He flipped through the channels with the remote. It took all of thirty seconds.

  Then she noticed the map by his hands. “Did you find out how much we’ve been delayed?”

  “Not yet.” He opened the map and spread it out on the table between them.

  She scooted in her chair. The action brought her too close. So close that she spotted a few gray hairs by his temple she had never noticed before. She mentally shook herself. Why couldn’t she keep her mind off John, and concentrate on more important things? Like getting to San Diego?

  “We’ll have to take 160 to 64.”

  She peered at the map. “We’ll be going near the Grand Canyon.”

  John looked up. He must have heard the wistful tone in her voice, for he asked, “Did you want to stop there? I don’t mind. I planned on going there on my drive back.”

  Clarisse shrugged, trying not to act too excited. “I don’t know,” she hedged. Even though sightseeing would lengthen their time together, the urge to see the famous sight was overpowering. As far back as she could remember, she had wanted to see the canyon, but for some reason the opportunity never arose, and right now, s
he didn’t see another one materializing anytime in the foreseeable future.

  “We’d only need to take a detour of—let’s see here—less than fifty miles.”

  She studied his bold, handsome face, the full lips curved at a sensuous angle, the square, almost stubborn jaw. When she met his compelling gray eyes, she realized she was too tired and road weary to fight her feelings. His masculinity and her attraction were too powerful.

  She smiled, her stomach fluttered like a moth’s wings caught in a web. “Why not? After all those old westerns you made me sit through, it’s only right I get a chance to taste a little of the west.”

  “I made you sit through?”

  At his raised brow and twinkling gray eyes, she relented with a smile. “Okay, I admit I’m just as bad a movie buff as you. But you have to promise one thing.”

  “Hmm?”

  “We don’t get a flat,” she teased.

  His deep throaty laugh, so sexy and male, entranced her. Her body warmed and stilled as longing flowed through her veins. John met her gaze and the humor in his face dissolved. Embarrassed at being caught staring, Clarisse tore her gaze away, unable to dismiss the sexual awareness plaguing her. Her gaze collided with the queen-sized bed. No, that wouldn’t do. She turned her attention back to the map.

  The silence in the room thickened with awkwardness. Clarisse cleared her throat, but John spoke first. “When I talked to your sister on the phone, she sounded happy.”

  Her sister. A safe topic. “Give Laura another couple of days, and happy won’t be the word to describe it. She’s going to be bouncing off the walls. She’d madly in love with Darren.”

  “I’m glad. She’s a good kid.”

  Clarisse could argue that point. When she reached San Diego she planned to verbally attack Laura for a good half-hour, then she would—she didn’t know what she’d do yet. But she would make sure her sister never pulled a stunt like this again. She had no doubt in her mind now that Jennifer wasn’t the only matchmaker. Laura was equally knee-deep when it came to hatching this crazy scheme that had her traveling across the country with her old boyfriend.