Real Vintage Maverick

by Marie Ferrarella

  He stood there for a moment, looking at the headstone. Waiting. Others might have called him a fool or scoffed at what he was doing, but Cody was completely confident that Renee would find a way to let him know if she approved.

  Cody knew that he should just be going by what she’d told him on her deathbed, that she wanted him to move on with his life and not be alone, but that had been eight years ago. What he really needed was something more current. He wanted to be assured that it was still all right for him to marry someone else.

  That he had her blessings.

  Maybe he was asking for too much. Maybe he should just go and—

  And then he heard it. A meadowlark. A western meadowlark, and it was singing. Renee had always loved hearing the bird’s melodic tune. Whenever she’d hear it, she’d stop whatever she was doing or saying and just listen.

  She used to say to him that it was a boy bird singing to his girl. He’d tease her, saying that there was no way for her to know that, but she’d remain adamant about it, certain she was right.

  That was just the way she was.

  Grinning as he recalled all this, Cody looked up at the sky, searching it for a sign of the meadowlark. And then he saw it. There was no mistaking the yellow throat and belly, the bold, black V at its throat. It was a meadowlark, all right.

  The next moment, the bird had flown out of range, disappearing into the horizon.

  But his message lingered in the air.

  “Thank you, Renee,” Cody whispered softly as he put his Stetson back on his head.

  * * *

  Catherine’s heart sank as she stood in the shadow of a massive oak tree, out of sight as she observed Cody from a distance. She was too far away to hear what he was saying, but she saw the flowers and she could tell by the set of his shoulders that the tension that had been there when she’d first walked up was gone.

  He’d probably confessed his transgressions with her to his wife and was asking for her forgiveness for what he’d done.

  She watched his lips move. Everything about him spoke of an overwhelming sadness.

  He was still in love with his wife.

  Tears gathered in Catherine’s eyes.

  Served her right for being dumb enough to fall so hard and so quick, she chastised herself. That wasn’t like her; she never reacted that fast. And because she had, she was now paying oh, so dearly for this break in her behavior.

  Her heart breaking, Catherine turned and fled the cemetery. She didn’t want to take a chance on Cody seeing her.

  It was over.

  * * *

  She didn’t remember finding her car or even driving back to the shop. The entire way there had been marred by tears. Tears that blurred her vision before sliding down her face.

  In the grip of despair and exasperation, Catherine kept wiping the offending tears away, doing her best to stop crying.

  But she couldn’t.

  Each tear just brought more in its wake until she felt as if she was drowning in tears. Maybe it would have been better if she had.

  But she didn’t drown, didn’t die of heartbreak. Somehow she managed to find her way back to the shop.

  Parking her vehicle behind the shop, she locked it and entered through the back door.

  She turned on lights as she went through the shop. They didn’t help. Nothing helped, but it would eventually. She just had to keep going until then.

  Meanwhile, there was still a huge list of things for her to do and she was going to throw herself into doing them, pushing herself until she was too exhausted to think or feel, she swore silently.

  Even so, for a moment, she debated leaving the closed sign just where it was. The next minute, she decided against it. She needed customers, and talking to them would get her mind off the fact that she no longer had a heart that functioned properly. It was broken into what felt like a million pieces.

  Maybe more.

  Flipping the sign in the window back to Open for Business, Catherine crossed back to the counter in the center of the room, retrieved her apron from the bottom shelf and slipped it over her clothing.

  There was a huge amount of dusting waiting for her in the storage room. If she was lucky, she’d wind up buried under it, she thought, unable to escape the bitterness that was assaulting her from all sides, trying to get a tight hold on her.

  Fighting it off no longer seemed worth it.

  Nothing seemed worth it, she thought dully, feather duster in one hand, lack of energy, of enthusiasm, in the other.

  This time, when the bell over the door sounded some twenty minutes later, she was hoping to see a customer coming into the shop. She was prepared to see just about anyone from the town—except for the one person who was coming in.

  Damn, where was he when I wanted to see him? And why is he here now that I don’t? Catherine silently demanded.

  The next second, she could feel her stomach constricting until it felt as if it had turned itself inside out.

  Had Cody come to tell her he wasn’t going to be seeing her anymore?

  Another man would have just allowed his actions to speak for him by avoiding all contact with her. Not exactly a difficult thing to do, seeing as how she spent most of her day at the shop.

  Cody isn’t like other men, remember? That’s why you like him.

  Liked him, she corrected with silent anger.

  “Hi,” Cody said, watching as Catherine moved around the counter, flitting around and not alighting anywhere. Just like those birds he’d seen driving over here. They seemed to be all over at one point, before retreating, flying off somewhere else.

  “Hi,” she echoed, her teeth all but clenched together, straining the word. “You came at a bad time, Cody,” she informed him coolly, deliberately turning her back on him as she gathered together a stack of papers for absolutely no reason she could think of except that she needed to have something to do with her hands. “I’m really busy today.”

  “Good, I’ll help,” he offered, reaching for the stack in her hands.

  She instantly pulled it back, out of his reach. “You can’t,” she snapped.

  He didn’t understand. Why was she looking so angry? And why was she acting as if she’d been bitten by a squadron of mosquitoes?

  “Why?” he wanted to know, wondering what had gotten her back up like this.

  “Because you can’t, that’s all,” she insisted, doing her best to keep the heat out of her voice as well as the hurt. “This is something I have to do myself.” She nodded at the papers and realized, to her dismay, that the top sheet was blank.

  And that Cody had already noticed that.

  “You have to decode invisible writing?” Cody guessed, amused.

  The amusement faded immediately as she said, “I don’t appreciate you making jokes at my expense.”

  Wondering what had gotten into her, Cody nonetheless backed off. “No disrespect intended,” he told her. He studied her for a couple of moments in silence, then asked with concern, “You okay, Catherine?”

  “Yes!” It was the first answer that came to her lips, fashioned out of complete denial. But lying had never been her thing, even if it kept things simpler right now. So, reconsidering, she didn’t bother curbing her hostile tone as she snapped, “No, I’m not.”

  Now they were finally getting somewhere, Cody thought. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he encouraged.

  You, you’re what’s wrong. You came on bigger than life and when I fell for you, you hurried back to your dead wife, the excuse you hide behind for not living your life to the fullest.

  Catherine pressed her lips together, knowing she couldn’t just blurt that out. Cody would think she was crazy—and maybe she was.

  So instead, she said something vague that would get him to leave. “I need some time, Cody. And space,” she added.

  “Time and space,” he repeated, as if to check that he had heard her correctly.

  Or was he just making fun of her? she wondered, ready to take on a fight despite t
he weariness that was rapidly invading her.

  “Yes.” It was a struggle to keep from shouting at him. The man had taken her heart and played handball against a concrete wall with it.

  He looked at her closely, trying to see beneath the layers that had suddenly popped up between them. Had he been mistaken before, thinking she was the one?

  No, he didn’t think so, he decided. But right now, he needed answers. “Why?” he finally asked.

  Rather than give him an answer, she snapped and pleaded, “Stop asking that.”

  “I’m asking that because I want to understand,” he told her simply.

  She closed her eyes, searching for strength. Searching for the will to just keep continuing. “Just go, Cody. Please,” she entreated him. “Just go,” she repeated with more feeling.

  Cody looked at her in silence for a long moment, considering his options. If he did what he wanted to—dragged her into his arms and kissed her until whatever it was that was wrong was right again—she could easily press charges against him.

  He had no choice, he realized, but to walk away just as she wanted him to.

  Maybe if he gave her this “time and space” she was asking for, it would somehow help her clear her head and come around again. Or at least get her to the point where she could explain to him what the hell was going on with her.

  Blowing out an exasperated breath, he looked at Catherine for another long, pregnant moment, then quietly said, “All right. I’ll go. For now,” he deliberately qualified so that she understood that this wasn’t over between them.

  Not by a long shot.

  Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked toward the front door.

  Catherine remained exactly where she was. Only her eyes moved, staring after him. She could feel her heart sinking further down with each step he tread that took him farther and farther away from her.

  The very fact that Cody was going, that he listened to her rather than challenged what she was saying and then stubbornly remained here, told her that she’d been right all along.

  Cody had gone to his wife to apologize for his “transgression,” for having any sort of feelings for another woman rather than remaining faithful to her memory.

  Because, if she’d been wrong in her assessment, Cody would have fought her request, fought to remain in the shop.

  Moreover, he would have tried to get her to change her mind. He would have argued with her until he managed to get to the bottom of all this.

  Because Cody Overton wasn’t a quitter, he was the kind of man who hung in there to fight for what he wanted.

  But he obviously no longer wanted her. He wanted to leave.

  And he was leaving.

  She’d given him a way out and he’d taken it.

  “Nice going,” Catherine murmured sarcastically to herself.

  The tears came back. But this time, she didn’t bother trying to wipe them away. It didn’t matter.

  Nothing mattered. Because she’d lost something very precious.

  No, you didn’t. You never had it in the first place, a voice inside her head jeered.

  The tears fell harder.

  Faster.

  Catherine slowly walked up to the front of the store and flipped the sign back around so that it proclaimed Closed for a second time that day.

  As closed as she hoped her heart would be. Once it stopped aching this way.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cody shivered involuntarily as a feeling of déjà vu swept over him.

  He was back at the State Fair. Back riding the same noisy carousel with its brightly painted horses.

  Except that he didn’t see Renee.

  Where was she?

  The anxiety was new, too.

  It ate away at him. He couldn’t shake it. Couldn’t rise above the feeling.

  Something was wrong.

  And then he heard it, heard the laughter. For a moment, he breathed a sigh of relief. But then he listened again. The laughter was different. It didn’t belong to her.

  Didn’t belong to Renee.

  The timbere was off, but it still filled him, filled his head, filled his heart.

  There was a presence with him, but that, too, wasn’t Renee.

  That was when he knew. The presence he felt, the woman who was suddenly beside him, riding the carousel, was Catherine.

  It was Catherine riding on the painted horse beside him. Catherine whose slender hands were wrapped around the pole that was inserted into the horse’s saddle. Catherine who looked at him with love in her eyes and laughter on her lips.

  Catherine.

  Catherine’s voice resonated in his chest and in his soul at the same time. She was saying something to him, but he couldn’t make it out, couldn’t hear the words. Her voice became a loud buzz, devolving into a disjointed hum that rang in his ears.

  The anxiety rose up again, this time to engulf him, dark and foreboding. Because, just as Renee had all those other times, Catherine began to fade away right before his eyes.

  When he reached for her, to try to somehow hang on to her, Catherine only faded faster.

  And as he lunged forward, grasping the empty air, she disappeared altogether.

  Heartsick, Cody tried to cry out her name, but his voice was stuck in his throat, becoming just as much of a prisoner as he was in this maddening time warp that insisted on continually replaying itself in his head.

  “Help me, Cody. Free me.”

  He could feel Catherine pleading for him to save her rather than actually hear her.

  And then there was silence. Nothing but deafening silence.

  He was alone.

  “Catherine!” he cried. His voice came echoing back to him as he stood looking down into the mouth of the abyss. “Catherine, where are you?”

  Nothing but the sound of his own voice, vibrating with panic, came back to him.

  And then the darkness closed over him as well. A sickening sense of finality washed over him.

  It was over.

  Cody bolted upright, sweating profusely and shaking so badly he thought he would never be able to stop.

  It took him several minutes to get himself under control. This latest version of his nightmare had really spooked him.

  Trying to think, to piece what he could together, he had no idea what to make of this new twist. He wasn’t a man who believed in omens, but this was different. This had been so vivid, so real, as if something out there was trying to tell him something.

  Was it some sixth sense, warning him that Catherine was in danger?

  He honestly didn’t know, but he was certain of one thing. He wasn’t going to have any peace until he’d reassured himself that Catherine was safe and well.

  His eyes bleary, Cody switched on the lamp on the nightstand next to his bed and picked up the clock he kept there. With effort, the numbers on the clock’s face came into focus.

  It was almost two in the morning.

  Five more hours until dawn and even that was really too early for him to be knocking on someone’s door.

  Taking a deep breath, Cody tried to reason with himself.

  That lasted for exactly three minutes and gained no ground. Frustrated, he kicked off the covers and got out of bed. Adrenaline began to surge through his veins as a sense of urgency reared its head and seized him.

  He couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but that didn’t matter.

  The only thing that mattered to him at this point was seeing with his own eyes that Catherine was all right. Because if she wasn’t and he’d just remained here, immobile and of no earthly use to her, Catherine would never forgive him.

  Hell, he wouldn’t forgive himself, Cody thought in exasperated anger.

  It took him less than five minutes to hurry into his clothes and run down the stairs.

  Once on the ground floor, he hopped from one foot, then the other, pulling his boots on while on the run. Moving even faster, he nearly forgot to close the front door behind him as he dashed to
his truck.

  Doubling back, he slammed it hard. The door locked itself.

  At the moment, all he had was tunnel vision. He had to see Catherine with his own eyes. Nothing else mattered right now except for Catherine.

  Once behind the wheel, Cody drove like a maniac, swerving from side to side to avoid creatures that used the cover of night to forage for their food.

  The only reason he didn’t get into an accident with another vehicle was because, at this hour, there were no other vehicles on the road.

  It occurred to Cody that he’d probably broken some kind of a speed record getting from his ranch to the Clifton house, but that wasn’t something he could readily ask anyone to substantiate.

  He could feel his breath backing up in his throat as he drew closer to her family’s house. It was just a dream, he told himself, just a dream. Catherine was fine. She had to be.

  His hands felt like ice as he clutched the steering wheel.

  Pulling up in front of the tall, imposing Victorian house, he nearly strangled on the seat belt he forgot to release. Doing so, he jumped from the vehicle, taking the steps leading to the porch two at a time.

  His boots resounded on the wooden, wraparound porch. Forgoing the doorbell, he knocked—pounded actually—on the front door.

  “Are you home?” he called out as he pounded the door again. “Catherine, if you’re all right, answer the door!”

  Three minutes into his rant, the front door flew open. But instead of Catherine, Cody found himself looking down at a white-haired, slightly bleary-eyed older man in a navy blue robe thrown over a pair of light blue pajamas.

  The confused scowl on the round face told Cody exactly what Amos Clifton thought of being dragged out of bed at this ungodly hour.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, boy?” Amos demanded in a deep, booming voice. “You have any idea what time it is?”

  Equally agitated and frustrated, Cody answered, “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “Then why the hell are you banging on my door, yelling at the top of your lungs like some drunken banshee?” He eyed Cody, not sure what to make of any of this. “You deliberately trying to raise the dead?”

  Cody took a deep breath, standing his ground. “No, sir, what I’m trying to do is find out if Catherine’s all right.”