The Long Road Home

by H. D. Thomson

  “Damn it!”

  “Are we stuck?” Clarisse righted herself.

  He trod on the gas pedal. The car lurched a foot then halted. “Yes.”

  “Oh, hell.” Clarisse bit her lip. She should have known not to get in a car with him. Every time it led to disaster.

  He opened the window and peered out. “Looks like we’re in a ditch. Let me switch to four-wheel-drive. That should do something.”

  He pressed a button on the console and tried again. The Explorer trembled, and the wheels sped vainly. Suddenly, the car leaped forward and bounced onto the road.

  “What a relief!” Clarisse gripped the side of the door with vise like fingers.

  “Isn’t it?”

  Her lips thinned at his sarcastic tone. She knew he wanted her gone, but he didn’t have to be so vocal about it!

  Finally, he pulled up in front of Laura’s house. Unable to tolerate another minute in John’s company, she opened the door, nearly falling in her haste to get out of the vehicle. Not looking back, she slammed the door. Head bent, rummaging in her purse for the key, she limped up the walkway to the front entrance. She fumbled with the lock and bit back an oath when the key fell from her trembling fingers.

  “This is not happening,” she muttered, crouching awkwardly to the ground, hampered by her leg and cumbersome gown. She blinked away tears of frustration. This was ludicrous. She couldn’t see a blasted thing with the porch light off. Her fingers swept across the cement, then stilled on the doormat. Strange. She didn’t remember Laura having a mat.

  “What’s wrong?” he growled.

  She bristled. “Nothing’s wrong!” Rising swiftly, she slammed her head into his chin with such force his teeth snapped shut.

  “Ow!”

  She cringed. “Sorry.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Forget it.” He closed his eyes as if to gain control. “What’s the problem?”

  “I can’t find my key,” she confessed.

  “Use the doorbell. Your parents must be home by now.”

  Her hands balled into fists. “I don’t want to wake them up.”

  He sighed impatiently. “Well, without a key, you have no choice.”

  He stabbed the doorbell with a thumb. No answer. A minute later, he hit it again. Still no answer. “They’ve got to be home,” he muttered, clearly frustrated as he pounded on the door. A dog started barking down the street.

  On the second floor, a window opened. “Who’s there?”

  Frowning, Clarisse peered up at the window, but the screen and darkness shielded the woman from view. “Mom, it’s me. Open up.”

  Silence, then, “You better leave or I’m going to call the police.”

  Clarisse stared at John in confusion. He shrugged and shook his head.

  “That’s it! I’m calling the police.”

  Backing away, Clarisse eyed the window in alarm. That couldn’t possibly be her mother. This lady’s voice was deeper, scratchier.

  “This is ridiculous.” John glanced up at the window. “It’s us, Mrs. Madison. John and Clarisse.”

  Clarisse looked around. All the houses in her sister’s new subdivision looked the same, yet she should have noticed the subtle differences in the yard before. This place had two newly planted trees just like Laura’s, but there were potted pansies by the door and what looked like irises along the walkway.

  “We’ve got the wrong house,” Clarisse groaned in dismay.

  “I’m getting my gun.” This time, a man yelled from the window, which sent them running from the yard.

  With the Explorer’s doors safely closed, they sped down the street.

  Clarisse had had enough. “Can you get me home?” She closed her eyes against the pain ripping through her knee. “And in one piece?”

  “I want to. Believe me. The sooner the better.”

  Her jaw tightened at his derogatory tone. “The feeling’s mutual.”

  John braked sharply in front of Laura’s house. They had missed her sister’s place by a street. Clarisse jumped out of the car, jarring her bad leg in her haste. Gasping, she flung the door shut, only to have her dress catch. Jerking the fabric, she managed to tear it free.

  She hurried to the front door, remembering too late that she no longer had her key. It was still at the other house. It didn’t matter. She hammered on the door. When Toto barked from somewhere inside, she couldn’t remember being so happy to hear such a sound.

  Glenda opened the door, and Clarisse stumbled in, almost colliding with her mother. Not looking back, she shut the door and leaned on the knob for support. With the realization that John was out of her life, her anger dissolved, leaving her raw with despair.

  “What’s wrong?” Glenda eyes widened in alarm.

  Sudden tears blurred her vision. “Nothing.” She bent down and patted Toto.

  “Don’t tell me that.” She pulled Clarisse beneath the hall light. “Your hair’s a mess.” Glenda’s voice rose in horror. “And your dress is torn. You look like you’ve been in a fight. Who did this to you?”

  “No one.” She met her mother’s anxious face and sighed. “Oh, all right. John’s car got stuck in a ditch and we ended up at the wrong—Forget it. It’s too strange a story to explain.”

  Glenda’s lips thinned. “If John hurt you—”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why are you so upset?”

  Closing her eyes, she now knew where Laura inherited her pig-headedness. “He found out.”

  “Oh.”

  Opening her eyes and seeing the distress in her mother’s face made her feel even worse. Clarisse could not stop the tears from overflowing and trickling down her cheeks.

  Her mother hugged her fiercely. “If you had told him the truth from the very beginning, this would never have happened. We all warned you.” Glenda groaned. “That didn’t come out like I wanted. I didn’t mean to make it sound like we told you so.”

  Clarisse nodded again. What could she say? She couldn’t argue with the truth. Pulling away from her mother, she smiled sadly. “I’ll be all right.”

  “Why don’t you call him when he cools down? It must have been a tremendous shock to him.”

  “It’s much too late for that. He’ll never forgive me for keeping silent. Especially when he learned the truth from his girlfriend, Vivian.”

  “I’m sorry.” Glenda bit her lip. “But I don’t understand how he heard about the crash from—”

  “Somehow Vivian found out.” Clarisse shrugged, surprised at her lack of emotion. Anger, despair no longer existed. Only a numbness bound her. If only it would last. “I think I’ll go to bed now.” Clarisse wiped the last of her tears away. “Everything will look better in the morning.”

  “Maybe a good night’s sleep will help.” Glenda squeezed her hand briefly.

  But in the morning, nothing had changed. And as to a good night’s sleep, she didn’t have one, and because of John, she suspected she wouldn’t for some time.

  Her mother’s words from the night before came to mind. “Why don’t you call him when he cools down? It must have been a tremendous shock...” She shivered. A sliver of hope seeped through the mantle of depression suffocating her.

  All morning she stared at the telephone, wishing for it to ring and wondering if it would. It did, several times, but to her disappointment the callers were never John.

  Her mother said finally, “Give him a call. It can’t hurt.”

  Clarisse shrugged but considered it. And considered it seriously as the day continued. By evening, she developed enough nerve to pick up the telephone. Thank goodness Laura had mentioned the hotel’s name in passing.

  “Is John McDonnell there?”

  “One moment please.”

  Tensely, she waited.

  “He checked out earlier today.”

  Her heart plummeted. “Thanks,” she mumbled, managing to place the receiver in its cradle before walking blindly away. She crawled into the nearest chair, trying to tell hersel
f it didn’t matter.

  So John had left, gone back to New York. She shouldn’t be surprised. It was what she expected, now wasn’t it? So why did it hurt so much? But she already knew the answer. She loved him and had never stopped loving him. Plain and simple.

  Clarisse tried to act as if she didn’t have a care in the world. During the drive to Seattle and her parent’s home, she expressed a wonder at the countryside and the city itself, but she knew she wasn’t deceiving anyone. Even though her mother and father kept silent, she read the concern in their eyes.

  At least taking care of Toto occupied a portion of her mind, and his unconditional love soothed her. But still, Clarisse could not snap out of her melancholy.

  And watching television all day surely didn’t help, Clarisse admitted, while sitting in her parent’s living room staring at a news program. It just numbed the brain, not the heart.

  The telephone rang on the table by her elbow. Her gaze still latched to the screen, she fumbled for the phone. “Hmm?”

  “Have you seen it?” Laura asked abruptly.

  “Seen what?”

  Carrying a sack of groceries, Glenda entered the living room. Clarisse frowned at her mother’s sickly complexion.

  “Your picture of course.”

  “What picture?” Clarisse asked tersely, watching her mother pull a magazine from the sack.

  “What picture?” Laura’s disgust came through over the line. “Oh, for goodness sakes! You don’t even have a clue. Its splashed over every magazine rack in the country!”

  As Glenda turned the magazine, Clarisse caught sight of the tabloid’s cover. The phone dropped from her grasp. With bumbling fingers, she managed to pick it up.

  “Talk to you later.” Gaze still locked to the cover’s photo, she hung up and whispered, “Let me see.”

  “It was such a shock standing in line at the grocery store and seeing your picture and the headline.” Glenda held it out with a shaky hand. “I want to warn you, it’s a nasty piece of journalism.”

  Eyes fixed on the front page, Clarisse lowered it to her lap. She was sitting on the fence with the Grand Canyon in the background, looking at the camera with a serious, almost haunted expression.

  She sucked in air as she read the caption. “Claire threatens to jump.” Flipping through the pages, she found the story and another photo similar to the last. “Sources tell us that former top model, Claire, is suicidal after being heavily scarred by burns. She disappeared from the public eye three years ago after a plane crash disfigured—”

  Unable to read on, she rose from the chair and closed her eyes, dropping the tabloid by her feet. Bile rose to her throat. One of her worse fears had materialized. Feeling her mother’s arms around her, she bit back a sob. It cut deeply to have her life splashed across the country. And intermixed with such flagrant lies!

  “It’ll pass,” Glenda whispered, squeezing her hard. “Given time. It will.”

  Swallowing with difficulty, Clarisse nodded. “Suing would just make matters worse.”

  “I can’t believe John would—”

  Clarisse shook her head. “He didn’t. He wouldn’t do something so cruel.” She knew of only one person who could be so vindictive.

  Glenda drew away and tenderly wiped a tear from her cheek. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Of course.” She smiled shakily. “Like you said, ‘it’ll pass.’“

  “I need to get these groceries put away. The ice cream will melt.” Glenda hesitated. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t shatter.”

  Her mother disappeared into the kitchen. Clarisse restrained the urge to fling the tabloid across the room. Revenge. It would be so sweet. But going after Vivian would not undo the damage. And she just wasn’t the type.

  The phone’s shrill ring jarred her nerves. It echoed inside her head until she could take it no longer. “Yes?”

  “Is anything wrong?” Laura asked. “I was afraid to call back just in case of a crisis. I never had a chance to explain.”

  “You don’t need to. Mom showed me the magazine.”

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe John—”

  “Like I told Mom, John didn’t do this,” Clarisse retorted a little too impatiently. “It’s Vivian. She must have stolen his film from the trip.”

  “Oh. I should have realized with the way she behaved at the reception.” Laura sighed. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Do? Probably keep a low profile and wait until it blows over.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask John how Vivian got hold of his photos?”

  “I wasn’t planning to.”

  “Clarisse! Listen to me, will you?”

  “Oh, no. I hear one of your speeches coming on,” Clarisse retorted.

  “I’m going to ignore that. You’re not thinking, which is understandable. Otherwise, you would have realized this is your excuse to see him again and try to straighten things out between you. But if you don’t hurry, you’ll lose your chance. And you won’t have another.”

  “What makes you think I want a chance?” Irrationally, Clarisse felt a small glimmer of hope blossom within her breast.

  “Because you care. Always have. You’ve never been able to completely let go. Your feelings are written on your face. At least everyone in the family can see it.” A sigh rippled across the line. “And I know it’s mutual. The man literally drools over you when he thinks no one’s looking.”

  “And how do you propose I get to New York? Fly?” She laughed bitterly.

  “If it’s important enough, you’ll get on a plane. But do it quickly. Vivian’s out there with him, and after all, he is only human with needs and wants like any other.”

  “I don’t know...”

  “You still don’t have the confidence in yourself to go after what you want, do you?” Laura didn’t wait for an answer. “And that’s a shame. You’re the only one who can change the image of yourself. I can’t, John can’t. No one can, but you. Think about that. What do you have to lose, other than a little bruised pride? At least you’ll never ask yourself ‘what if?’.”

  Laura’s words vibrated through her head as she hung up. What if? Did she dare take a chance? She could be safe and let pride keep her in Seattle. But pride did not warm your heart, hold you at night or kiss your tears away.

  The next morning, her stomach cramping with nerves, Clarisse called the airline and reserved a seat on the next available flight to New York.

  “I just hope I don’t regret this.” Packing her clothing into her suitcase, she eyed Toto sprawled atop the bed. “And as for you, my fine, furry friend, you’re not going to have a fun time. Being stuck in the belly of a plane won’t be to your liking, but I’m afraid that’s what happens when you’re a dog.”

  She snapped her suitcase closed and straightened her shoulders. Tongue lolling, Toto watched her from beneath his shaggy brows. “Hey, boy? Are you ready to go on an adventure?” Toto’s tail dusted the bedspread. “All I have to do is say good-bye to Mom and Dad, and we’re on our way.”

  Her heart fluttered wildly. Once she stepped on that plane there was no going back. She would be trapped in the air, thousands of feet above the ground, her life in the hands of strangers. Her palms turned clammy.

  What was she getting herself into? And what if John refused to talk to her after flying across the country to see him? She hadn’t taken a chance in a long time, and this one scared the hell out of her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The engines throbbed into the chair and up through every pore of Clarisse’s body. She gripped the armrest and forced herself to focus on the seat in front of her. From somewhere, a loud whine rose over the noise of the engines and scraped against her nerves. Digging her fingers deeper into the armrest, she summoned enough courage to glance outside and see the wing’s flaps slide into position. She swallowed convulsively.

  In only a matter of minutes, she would be in the air.

/>   Why was she putting herself through this unadulterated terror? It was insanity...absolute insanity. And it was all because of love, an emotion that made intelligent people act like idiots.

  Oh, but it all might be worth it, another voice argued. It could mean a second chance with John. Oh, but the fear. It stole the breath from her, drained what little control she had.

  “Are you all right, dear?”

  Not realizing her lids were squeezed shut, Clarisse cracked them open and squinted at an elderly woman in the adjoining seat. Clarisse attempted to swallow, but couldn’t get enough moisture in her throat to complete the act. “I’ll be doing much better after takeoff.”

  Smiling, she patted Clarisse’s hand. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. I’m sure you’ve heard, you’re more likely to get struck by lightning than crash in a plane.”

  Seeing the landscape inching forward, Clarisse could only nod, her voice somehow cemented to her throat. She tried to convince herself that the odds of being in another plane crash were almost non-existent.

  “Breathing into a paper bag might help...” The words drifted to her from somewhere far away. “Then maybe not. Here. Give me your hand.”

  With amazing strength for someone so fragile, she pried Clarisse fingers from the armrest. The warmth of her hand seeped into Clarisse’s skin, and the touch, simple and unassuming, comforted her.

  Until she glanced out the window; the ground rushed by with alarming speed. The airplane gathered even more momentum, tilting skyward and lifting off the runway. Stomach rolling, Clarisse fought against the panic crushing in on her.

  Once airborne, she gained some semblance of control—at least enough to comprehend how tightly she was gripping the woman’s fingers. Chagrined, Clarisse let go. “I hope I didn’t break any bones Mrs.? I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Henrietta. And I’m in one piece. See?” She flexed her fingers. “And if you haven’t noticed, we’re above the clouds. Now that wasn’t that bad, was it?”