Lost Highways (A Valentine Novel)

by Matlock, Curtiss Ann

  “I’ve never been in such a wonderful place,” she told him, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I’m so glad we came.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  He was eating her up again with his dark eyes, in a way that caused all the womanly parts of her to answer.

  As they sat at the table, she laid her hand upon his strong forearm, and as they danced, she let her hand feel the hardness of his shoulder. She put her cheek next to his and inhaled his male scent deep into her body, and when their thighs brushed, she didn’t pull away. They danced and talked and ate quesadillas and some sort of cake-and-ice-cream dish the waiter said was a specialty, and then they danced some more—just to be able to hold each other—and clicked their wineglasses in a salute to themselves and remaining alive after their foolishness in the storm, and they told each other important things, such as things they had seen thus far at the fair and rodeo, their birth signs and places they had been and things they had seen and laughed at.

  Neither of them spoke about what they would do when the weekend was over. How she would head for home and likely drop him at the airport to head for wherever he needed to go, his own homeward journey, she guessed. Such thoughts did enter her mind, but she kept brushing them aside. She didn’t want to tarnish this time with thoughts of reality. She figured this time was a gift. She was in his arms and felt happier than she had been in ever so long. Thinking just did not seem a wise thing to do.

  And then he said to her, “I may have fallen in love with you.”

  He said it clearly, after they had not spoken for some minutes, during which time they were simply gazing at each other and holding hands across the table, and she was having the fantasy of kissing him and pressing her body naked against his.

  For a moment, in great surprise, she gazed into his eyes lit by the candlelight. They were warm, hot and intent.

  “There’s no need to go off in that direction,” she said.

  Thoroughly jangled, she pulled her hand from his and tried to act as if she passed it off as a joke. She was confused and doubtful and disappointed for some reason that she didn’t understand. She had not expected him to dabble. It did not fit the picture she had of him, although, of course, it was a very male and human thing to do.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is it that you don’t believe me? Do you think I’m just handing you a line to get you into bed?” At least the directness was like him.

  “What sort of response do you expect to such a statement?” she asked, matching his directness, annoyed that he had started in on this and spoiled the wonderful time they had been having.

  He looked surprised at her attack, and this just made her more annoyed.

  She said, “You want some response from me. People don’t say things like that—” she could not say the word love “—unless they want a response. Just exactly what response do you want?”

  He gazed at her with a perplexed expression. “I guess maybe I did hope you would say you cared for me, too…but mainly I just wanted you to know what I feel.”

  She composed herself, seeking to be rational. “I care very much for you. I’m attracted to you, and you well know it. But I know, too, that this is a special time, and a lot of what makes it special is that this is something of a stolen interlude for both of us. Come Sunday afternoon, it will be over. You’ll head on your way, and I’ll go home. I’ll remember this time, and you’ll always be dear to me, and I don’t want to spoil it all by tryin’ to twist it into something that it isn’t.”

  He frowned and looked down at his wineglass, and then back at her. “Why do you think this is just an interlude? Why can’t it be a beginning of something for us?”

  She did not know what to say to that.

  He waited, though, so she tried to come up with something. “Well, you are just taking a few days away. You have a life to return to, and so do I. I have to go home on Sunday.”

  “Houston isn’t on another continent,” he said, with that familiar echo of sarcasm. “I know where Oklahoma is, and how to get there. And I know you know how to get around, so you could find your way to Houston.”

  She dropped her gaze to his glass. It was hard to get her breath. Very frightening to speak of her fear.

  “I’ve been married twice, Harry. I don’t know if I can let anyone in ever again. I’m going to have to be very, very sure.”

  “I don’t think that is going to stop me from falling in love with you,” he said, his voice so warm that it enveloped her.

  Next he rose and took her hand, and saying in a husky tone, “Come here,” he pulled her up and into his arms and danced her out onto the small floor.

  Alone on the floor, his arms around her waist and her arms up around his neck. The filtered red-and-green lights that lit the musicians flickering faintly over their faces. She gazed at him, and he at her, as their bodies moved lazily, seductively, together, brushing harder and harder.

  I’m so scared, Mama. I can’t go through another broken heart.

  Then she pressed her cheek against his and let herself lean upon him, let her heart beat against his. And her heart whispered: Maybe. Yet still she could not say the word love.

  They closed the place down. They danced and had another glass of wine, and then another, and gazed at each other in the candlelight some more. They didn’t talk much, simply listened to the music. Rainey was glad to do this, to stay where no decisions had to be made.

  But finally everyone had gone, and the last musician got up from his stool and left.

  “I guess that means we need to leave, too,” Harry said.

  She rose with him, not saying anything, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm.

  Outside, the sky had cleared, and stars could be seen even there in the city. On the high plain, the vast sky dominates even the city lights. The air had turned sharp, whispering of winter. She shivered, and Harry quickly jerked off his sport coat and put it around her shoulders. It was warm from his body heat. His scent engulfed her.

  They walked slowly across the small lot to the truck. She handed him the truck keys, saying, “I’ve had a little more wine than I’m used to.”

  For some reason she felt he was used to drinking wine. Also, she was shaking clear to her bones.

  He guided her to the passenger door and put his hand on the door handle. But he didn’t open it.

  She looked up at him, seeing in an instant the hot desire sweep his face, just before his lips came down upon hers. Oh, Lord, the sweetness of his kiss! Tears sprang into her eyes, and she began to quiver with wanting so much that she could hardly stand up. The next instant he pushed her back against the truck and pinned her there with his body, while he kissed her for all he was worth. For her part, she kissed back in the same manner, and they went at each other all hot and hard and wild.

  When he finally lifted his lips from hers, she was not only breathless but she could hardly see.

  She blinked, seeking focus, and found herself gazing at his throat, upon which a slice of light from the pole lamp fell. She saw his heart beating there. He still held her against the truck with his body. She throbbed against him, and he against her. She wished they never had to move, and in her passion-fogged state she might have believed that they never would.

  His fingers tilted her chin upward, and she looked into his dark eyes, which regarded her with certain intent. Then he kissed her again in a deliberate manner that drew a moan from her throat and brought dampness springing to intimate regions. He didn’t stop until she was out of breath and totally incapable of standing on her own.

  Holding her up, he again gazed into her eyes.

  “I am falling in love for the first time in my life, and I want to see where we go with this,” he said. “I mean all of it, not just the sex.”

  “Oh, Harry,” she said, because nothing else would come, and dropped her head against his chin.

  He lightly kissed her hair, and, still holding her up, he opened the door and slid her inside on th
e seat. She watched him round the truck and slide in behind the wheel.

  As he started the truck, she scooted over beside him. She laid her hand on his thigh and her head on his shoulder, rather melting against him. Her heart seemed to beat in the juncture of her legs.

  Do you think this could really be the one, Mama? God? How can I know what is real?

  On the way back to the motel, with Harry’s thigh flexing beneath her hand, she seesawed, one minute daring to believe that it could be true, that a miracle really was occurring in her life and she had found her man at last, and the next minute telling herself to have some sense, and keep hold of the pieces of her heart.

  She wondered, too, how it would go when they reached their rooms. She would have to make a decision. Her self-control was not at a high point, and she felt Harry was in the same situation, never a good position from which to make a decision.

  She actually found her sexual response to Harry very gratifying. She had found that she was alive, and surely there was hope for her to feel emotion again. Harry had brought her hope that she could indeed care for someone.

  Then they were passing the fairgounds, and she remembered the puppy and Lulu.

  “We have to get Sergeant,” she said, coming up off his shoulder. He looked surprised. “And Lulu—I always check on Lulu in the night at a public barn.”

  “Okay.”

  He turned the corner and headed for the contestant entry gate. Remaining sitting up straight, she took a good breath, and her eyes drifted downward to her hand on his thigh. She was at once relieved and annoyed at having to stop at the fairgrounds. In fact, she wasn’t certain she would be able to get out and stand up. She felt as if unfulfilled passion had weakened her bones.

  “Wait here, and I’ll get Roscoe,” Harry said, and she gladly did so, taking the time to gather her strength.

  Quickly he returned with the puppy, who bounded up into the seat, and the three of them drove over to the horse barn. When Harry drew to a stop in front, she looked over and saw there were lights inside and out at Leanne’s trailer and for the first time gave her cousin a vague thought.

  Then Harry was reaching for her hand, and she scooted out of the truck, glad to find her footing more stable than she had anticipated. Holding hands, with the puppy happily leading the way and glancing back at them, they trooped inside to see about Lulu.

  After having been so long in dimness, Rainey blinked in the bright light. She was self-conscious about how she must look; her lipstick possibly smeared, and her hair in thorough disarray, wearing a large sport coat which did not match her skirt and sweater. She wondered if her inward craving for sexual fulfillment showed. She wouldn’t look Harry in the face, but with a glance she noticed he looked just fine. Any man with a good haircut can go through anything and still look fine.

  There were several other people checking their horses, a couple of men playing cards outside a stall, and some riding and cutting up in the barn arena.

  At their approach, Lulu lifted her head and even whinnied, but when she discovered no Twinkie cake was forthcoming, she dropped her head back down and shifted away with disgust. Rainey felt badly about forgetting a Twinkie cake. She petted Lulu, but the mare kept her head turned. Checking Lulu’s ankles, Rainey found them fine and was convinced that Lulu had not been kicking the stall walls. Satisfied that Lulu was at this moment in perfect comfort, Rainey edged out of the stall and closed the gate.

  Stuffing her hands into the jacket pockets, she looked at Harry and saw he was looking at her.

  He reached up and gently took a stray strand of hair hanging against her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Then he caressed his thumb over her bottom lip, his eyes asking all sorts of questions. Feeling a rising heat and urgency, she dropped her gaze to his chin. His head came down, and he kissed her in a quick, driving manner, to which she hungrily responded, tears coming to her eyes.

  Then, almost before she had realized, she had put her hand to his chest, pushing gently. Turning, she headed away down the aisle. She had the urge to run far and fast.

  The next instant, Harry was walking beside her. To her surprise, he took her arm and looped it through his. He smiled down softly. A sliver of pleasure slipped down her back. With the puppy sniffing along in front of them, they walked to the front doors and out into the night.

  CHAPTER 23

  Love, Crazy Love

  Harry opened the passenger door for her. She guessed now that she’d let him drive, they both were going with it.

  “Ah…maybe we should stop for coffee,” he said, his eyes hopeful.

  “Yes. That’s a good idea.” She didn’t want to part from him, yet she didn’t want him to know the full extent of her longing for him, either. It was a very precarious position.

  Just as she started to slip into the truck seat, a yell and a bang jolted their attention toward the line of trailers and campers across the lot.

  Another bang, which she immediately placed as being from Leanne’s trailer, possibly her horse kicking the trailer wall. Leanne had a small pen set up beside her trailer, but the horse was not there. Rainey figured he had to be in her trailer, as Leanne was too paranoid to put him in one of the public stalls.

  But then there came a scream, and a figure resembling a strawberry-haired baby doll—it was Leanne, bare legs catching light—came flying out the door of the camper to land on the ground with a thud Rainey was quite certain she heard. Next, Clay, bare-chested, came out the door to the ground with one long stride, yelling at Leanne and jerking her up and beginning to beat the tar out of her, while she screamed back at him, trying to get away.

  At the same moment, Harry and Rainey started running toward them.

  “Hey!” Rainey yelled, sending her voice where her hands couldn’t reach as Clay went to shaking Leanne like a Raggedy Ann doll.

  She came to a halt, though, when she got close enough to see his face, the skin tight over his cheekbones and his eyes pure mean. At that sight, fear shot down her body and planted her in her tracks.

  Luckily Harry wasn’t deterred. “That’s enough,” he said, attempting to get between them in a reasonable manner.

  Unfortunately, reason made no dent in a madman, and Clay swept Harry aside and kept hold of Leanne’s arm, dragging her toward the trailer, yelling something about it wasn’t anyone’s business.

  Harry went at him again, and the puppy started barking around at their feet. Seeing the brave puppy and then Leanne’s terrorized expression at last propelled Rainey into action, and she jumped into the fray, trying to pry loose Clay’s hold on Leanne.

  Panic gave her the idea to bite his hand, but just as she was about to do that, Harry threw himself on Clay, at last freeing Leanne’s arm. As Rainey caught her cousin, she saw Harry draw back and punch Clay. For a second time that evening Harry shocked her. The power of his punch was such that Clay’s head snapped backward, his body stumbling along with it. Then Harry took a stance in front of her and Leanne, legs apart and hands clenching.

  She was now on the ground with Leanne, who had sunk to her bare knees, and between Harry’s legs she saw Clay scrambling to his feet, like a mad bull. But then a new figure jumped on him, and the next instant there were people all around.

  Leanne had blood pouring from her nose, and Rainey felt handicapped to help as she did not have any napkins.

  Someone said something about calling the police.

  “Oh, don’t call the police,” Leanne said, her voice muffled from her hands wiping her nose. “Don’t let them call the police, Rainey,” she said to her, as if she thought Rainey could order the world.

  “I think they already have,” she said, pushing away the puppy and helping Leanne get to her feet, anxious to get her out of the cold wind, as all she had on was a shirt and panties.

  Harry came up on the other side of Leanne, and they got her inside her trailer and sitting down on the cushioned bench. It was bright in the camper, everything all sparkling chrome and shiny vinyl wood. Jerking
off Harry’s jacket, so as to not get blood on it, Rainey turned to the sink and found paper towels, having to move several whiskey bottles to do it, while Harry attended to Leanne, doing that penny thing beneath her upper lip and having her tilt her head back. He took her pulse and looked her over.

  With the wet towels, Rainey wiped the blood from Leanne’s face, wiping around her bloody hand that held the penny. At least Leanne appeared to have all her upper teeth. Her bottom lip was battered good, and hopefully she hadn’t lost bottom teeth; Leanne had lovely teeth. There was a swelling on her cheek.

  The urge to take a two-by-four to Clay’s head welled up in Rainey.

  Harry asked Leanne if she felt any pains, if anything seemed to be broken. Rainey took it as a good sign that he wasn’t immediately dialing for an ambulance.

  Leanne moved her arm, testing. Then she shook her head, mumbling around the penny, “My arm is pretty wrung, but it’s not broken. I’m okay.”

  Just then the trailer door was jerked open, and Rainey whirled, preparing to smack Clay, if it was him, but it wasn’t. It was a shorter figure, with dark blond hair, and when Leanne said, “Oh, Pete,” she knew it was Pete Lucas, and that he was obviously a friend.

  Catching sight of the puppy through the open door, Rainey squeezed around Pete Lucas to let him in. A woman outside asked if they might need to send for an ambulance, but she told her Leanne seemed okay. She closed the door and looked around to see Pete Lucas crouched in front of Leanne.

  “Are you okay? I’m so sorry….” He looked pained, as if he wanted to reach for her but held himself back, and Rainey knew at once how it was. He was in love with Leanne.

  Leanne nodded and took the penny from beneath her lip. “There isn’t anything for you to be sorry for,” she said weakly, trying to give him a smile.

  “He was gettin’ so riled, and it seemed to me that my bein’ here just added to it. I thought it’d be best if I left. I guess I should have stayed.”