“But is the title in your name?”
Gina squeezed her eyes shut as if she could block out this unwelcome news. “No. It was in Hank’s name.”
“And since the estate’s stuck in probate...”
Gina leaned her head back against the window, staring up at the ceiling. If they’d reported the car stolen, she was essentially a common criminal.
“Gina? Honey?”
Gina blew out a breath. “I’ll be tracked down for sure, then, because the police department here has my vehicle information. What am I going to do?” Her voice broke on the last couple of words, and she swallowed hard, determined to maintain control.
“I’ve already thought about that. You’ve got to give it back, that’s all.”
“Give it back? When I’m here and they’re in California?”
“Yep, and I’ve figured out how. You use one of those driving services. They load your vehicle on a truck and drive it across the country. It’s done all the time.”
Gina was still wrapping her mind around the facts: that her car wasn’t her car, and that she was a wanted criminal. “It’s got to be expensive,” she said finally. “I’m almost out of money.”
“Didn’t you say you had a debit card?”
She did. “But it’s not safe to use it.” It wasn’t as if there was a lot of money in the old joint account—Hank had drained most of it away in the months before his death—but there was something. Something for Bobby’s future, if they could make it through the first couple of months.
Haley sighed audibly. “No. No, it’s not safe, especially now that you’re a wanted person. The police could track you to where you are.”
Gina felt a sharp rush of shame that she had no savings of her own. If only she hadn’t acquiesced to staying home with Bobby... She glanced up toward her room. No, she couldn’t regret that decision. They’d both agreed that since they had the means, it would be best for her to spend Bobby’s early years at home with him.
She shoved open the window, letting the rain-soaked breeze soothe her hot face.
“We’ve got to hire you a transportation service, have you send back the car. The way I see it, you don’t have a choice.” Haley cleared her throat. “I talked to Josh. We...we can pay for it.”
“No.” Gina couldn’t let her friend do that. She and her husband had tons of student debt and no family money. Although they both worked, the high cost of living in their part of the state made it so that they barely scraped by every month.
And yet Haley was right. Staying out of trouble with the law was a bigger priority even than a financial safety net.
“Look, what if I mail you my ATM card? That way you can take the money out of my account, and if it’s traced, it’ll be local, not here.” Gina couldn’t believe how quickly she was able to flip into criminal mode when it was Bobby’s safety in question. “If I do that, can you set it up for me? Do we just send the SUV to them? I’m afraid they’ll find out where it came from and track us down.”
“Nope. Overnight the card to me, and I’ll get it all set up right away. As soon as the SUV arrives, I’ll drive it over to your in-laws’ place and leave it.”
“How? In the middle of the night?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll figure out some explanation.” She paused. “I really want this to work for you, Gina. I miss you, but you did the right thing. Bobby comes first.”
“Thank you so much. You’re an amazing friend.” Her throat tight, she chatted for a couple more minutes and then ended the call.
How was she going to manage without a vehicle? And yet, what choice did she have?
She looked out the window at the streetlights of Rescue River. The main street glistened with today’s rain. She could see the market, the diner, the library.
She could see them, which meant she could walk to them. She looked up at the stars. “You knew what You were doing when You put me here, Father,” she murmured in a low voice.
She let out a sigh and slid her feet down to the floor...only to shriek at the sight of a large figure standing a couple of steps down from the landing. When she recognized Buck, her heart rate settled a little.
He flicked on the hall light. “Sorry to startle you. I was talking to Lacey about your situation. Coming upstairs to my room.” Unnecessarily, he gestured toward the upper floor. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
She remembered the raised voices she’d heard. “Let me guess,” she said. “Your talk with Lacey didn’t go well.”
“I’m afraid not.” He sat on the other end of the curved window seat, his face barely visible in the glow of a streetlight. “She’s just not comfortable having you here. She said you could stay for a couple more days, through Monday, Tuesday if you really need to, but that’s all.”
The weight of her responsibilities pressed down on Gina. She couldn’t stay, then, not unless she found another job. But she couldn’t go, not with her transportation being taken out from under her.
“Hey, I’m sorry.” He reached out a hand and patted her shoulder.
Surely he meant it as a friendly touch, but to Gina, the warmth of his large hand made her want to hurl herself into his arms. He seemed so strong and competent and kind.
And she couldn’t give in to that desire to be rescued. “Thanks for trying. With God’s help, I’ll figure out something.”
Rather than nodding and moving away, he gave her shoulder another pat and looked into her eyes. “When I met you, I thought you were one of those ladies who lunch, someone who never had a problem. But that’s far from the truth, isn’t it?”
“Miles away.” She couldn’t handle the compassion in his eyes, but she couldn’t look away, either.
“If I wasn’t knee-deep in problems of my own, problems of my own creation, I’d try to help you more.” He squeezed her shoulder once and then pulled his hand away.
“Thanks.” She actually believed him.
“One thing I can offer,” he said, “is an invitation to church tomorrow. Nine o’clock. It’s a great community church, the one we stopped by before, and who knows, maybe someone is hiring or can put you up.” He sounded doubtful. And she couldn’t tell whether he wanted her to stay or not. Probably not.
He was offering her solace, and shamefully, church didn’t seem like a lot of help right now. But it was what she had, and she knew, intellectually at least, that God was big enough to handle any problem.
And she also knew that staying here in the dim moonlight, talking to a very handsome and compassionate man, wasn’t the solution to anything. She stood and turned toward the stairs. “I’d love to go. Thanks for asking.”
* * *
Minutes after Gina went into her room and closed the door, Buck trotted downstairs. He was putting on his coat when Lacey came out of the kitchen, holding her orange cat in her arms.
“Where are you going?” she asked. “It’s late.”
“Need some air.” The conversation with Gina had thrown him off balance in more ways than one, and he knew he wouldn’t sleep anytime soon.
Not to mention he was worried about the baby. Earlier tonight, when Gina had gone inside to fetch his binky, Buck had snapped a photo of Bobby’s bruise to show Dion.
His sister cuddled the cat closer and studied him, her forehead wrinkled.
“It’s just a walk, Lace.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes!” Then, ashamed of his sharp tone, he put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. He shouldn’t be mad at her when she’d bailed him out of so many problems. Between her own tragedies and his bad behavior, his waiflike younger sister had been forced to grow stronger than any woman should have to be. “I won’t be out long and I won’t do...what I used to do.”
“I know.” She leaned into his side. “I just got in
the habit of worrying about you, know what I mean?”
“I know. But I’m fine.”
At least, he hoped he was fine, he thought as he stepped out the door. In the past, he’d have for sure gone on a bender just because he felt mixed up about that encounter with Gina.
He was worried about what he’d overheard, but that wasn’t all of it.
Turned out God had a sense of humor. He was attracted to the pretty, maternal stranger.
Buck blew out a sigh and strode through Rescue River’s small business district. A farming community to the core, the town shut down early. The diner and the shops all had doors closed and lights off.
Clouds scuttled over the moon and a breeze rattled the tree limbs. Buck pulled his coat closer around him. Ohio weather. Yesterday had been springlike, but tonight it felt like a front was coming through.
There was one business still open, one place where light and happy noises indicated life: the Ace Tavern.
Buck straightened his back and told himself to keep walking. And he did. He walked past.
Behind him, the door of the tavern opened. Could he be blamed for turning back? Any combat vet worth his salt had it ingrained: know what’s going on behind you.
A long-haired woman came out, alone. Wearing a jacket that didn’t look too warm, skintight jeans and ridiculously high heels. There was a click, a flash, and she got her cigarette lit, then looked up and saw him. “Hey, handsome, come buy me a drink,” she said. Then she squinted and leaned toward him, catching herself on the bar’s wooden outside wall. “Well, if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes. Buck Armstrong.”
He stepped closer and recognition dawned. “Hey, Heather, how’s it going?” He reached out to grasp her hand and ended up steadying her. “Been a while.” Heather was at least fifteen years older than Buck, but they’d been good drinking buddies. Heather was one of the few people in town who’d been able to match Buck shot for shot.
The thought of that brought a tight feeling to his throat.
A glass of whiskey, he knew, would take that feeling away. Warm him right up, too.
“Gonna finish my smoke and then go back in. C’mon, have a cold one and let me know what you been up to.” She spoke slowly and carefully but still tripped over a few of the words. Did he used to sound like that?
“You planning on driving home tonight?” He knew Heather lived out in the country, had been to a couple of parties at her place.
“Sure, yeah. Why, want to come out my way?”
“No, not tonight, thanks.”
“Your loss.” She turned to go back into the bar and stumbled.
Catching her, Buck blew out a breath. He knew well enough what falling-down drunk looked like, and Heather was falling-down drunk. And he needed to make sure someone would take care of her. Holding her elbow, he steered her inside.
The bar wasn’t crowded. A couple of guys playing pool, a man and woman talking intently in a booth, and three or four of his old acquaintances at the bar. Regulars, people who didn’t have much family. Whether they hung out at the Ace because of that, or whether their drinking had pushed loved ones away, they didn’t have another place to go, and the bar served as home to them.
“Hey, Armstrong!” Word circled around the place, and it was like he’d never left. Guys clapping him on the back, Heather clinging to his arm, proud to have brought in a popular old friend, the bartender turning over glasses, shot and a beer, his old favorite.
“Not tonight, Arnie,” he told the bartender, leading Heather to a table and then extricating himself from her grasp.
Mild catcalls of disapproval greeted his refusal. Everyone here knew he was in AA and probably didn’t want to tempt him too badly, but they’d welcome him back into the fold in a minute. His choice.
He stepped over to the bar and handed Arnie a couple of bills. “Get someone to take Heather home tonight, could you? She shouldn’t be driving.”
Arnie pocketed the money with a smile. “I’ll take her myself.”
“Thanks.” Get out of here, now. He looked around at the beer signs, the glittering rows of bottles, ran a hand over the scarred wooden bar. This place had been here forever. A classic.
Get out now.
He turned toward the door.
“Sure I can’t get you a drink? My treat.” Arnie held up a glass.
Get out. Buck fingered his sobriety coin, squeezed it hard until the edges dug into his palm. Looked up at the ceiling, made a plea.
“No. No, thank you.” Somehow, he got his mouth to form the words and got his feet to start marching. Like marching during wartime, when you’d been up twenty-four hours and more and didn’t think your legs could carry you. One step at a time.
A moment later he was out of the bar and leaning against the wooden front of it, breathing hard. He pulled out his sobriety coin and, in the light from the bar’s window, read the serenity prayer printed in tiny letters on the back. Or pretended to read it; actually, he knew it by heart. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to...
In front of him, a police cruiser stopped, and he was still enough of a drunk that his heart raced before he remembered he hadn’t done anything wrong.
Dion stepped out and walked over, stood a little closer than was polite. Undoubtedly trying to tell if Buck smelled of liquor. “In trouble, my friend?”
“Just got away from it.” He held up his coin.
Dion narrowed his eyes, studying it, and then the light dawned. “Your recovery coin. Close call?”
Buck nodded, his heart rate settling back to normal. The fresh, cold air braced him. He could do this.
He hoped.
“Want to grab a cup of coffee? I’m done with my shift.”
He wanted a drink. But no. He didn’t intend to go back there, not ever. “Thanks—coffee sounds good,” he said and got into the cruiser.
He’d definitely have something to share at tomorrow’s AA meeting.
When they reached the truckers’ restaurant out by the highway—the only nondrinking place open at this hour—the owner hurried toward them. He was a short man in a white shirt with pants pulled up high on his ample belly, and his hand was raised like a stop sign. “You’re welcome, Chief, but him I won’t serve.”
Heat rose in Buck’s face. He dimly remembered some late-night, postbar confrontation, some shouting, a few shoves.
The smells of coffee and fried food wafted through the air. A couple of uniformed waitresses stood near the cash register, watching. They probably remembered Buck, too, and not in a good way.
He turned to go.
“He’s my guest,” Dion said. His voice was quiet, but he’d drawn himself up tall. He was a big man, and commanding, and the restaurant manager visibly cringed.
“Well, all right, if you’ll take full responsibility. But if there’s any trouble...”
“If there’s trouble, I’ll handle it, my friend.”
The manager nodded and stepped aside, and Dion led the way to a booth in the restaurant’s back corner.
Once they’d both ordered coffee, Buck let his head sink onto one fist and stared down at the none-too-clean table. “I’ll never get out from under my reputation. I’ve got to leave Rescue River. Repay my debts and leave.”
Dion shook his head, slowly. “You’re a new creation. Did you think that was just words?”
“The outside looks the same, and no one around here believes in the change. It’s dangerous,” he added for clarification, remembering Arnie holding up the glass.
Instead of responding to that, Dion studied him. “What was it had you out walking so late?”
Buck looked at Dion’s dark eyes, eyes that seemed to hold a depth of thought and wisdom beyond most of the people Buck knew. “Did you ever meet a woman you really l
iked, but you knew she was out of reach?”
Dion’s mouth twisted a little and he looked out across the restaurant. “In a manner of speaking.”
Daisy Hinton, the town’s pretty blonde social worker, sprang into Buck’s mind. He’d heard the rumors about her and Dion but didn’t know whether there was any substance to them.
Dion rubbed the back of his neck. “What are we talking about here? You got a crush on someone unattainable?”
Buck sighed. “It’s Gina. I like her.”
“The new lady in town?” Dion lifted an eyebrow. “Back up, my man. What have you heard? How’s the baby doing?”
“The good news is, Bobby is doing fine. Gina couldn’t possibly be the one who was abusing him. He’s thriving, and she’s real gentle with him.”
“Good.” Dion sipped at his hot coffee. “What’s the bad news?”
Buck hesitated. Should he tell Dion what he’d overheard, possibly getting Gina into trouble? But if he didn’t tell Dion, and something happened to her that could have been prevented...
“I can tell you know something,” Dion said, “so why don’t you go on and tell me.”
Buck shook his head. “Man, I feel sorry for your kids, if you ever have any. You’re going to read them like a book.”
A strange expression crossed Dion’s face so quickly that Buck decided he must have imagined it. He stirred sugar into his coffee. “It was just a little something I overheard. One-sided phone conversation.”
Dion lifted an eyebrow, waiting.
“She was talking about whether she and Bobby could be hunted down here. Something about mailing an ATM card to a friend so the withdrawal couldn’t be traced.” He paused, then added, “She also sounded worried about the fact that you have her vehicle information. And it sounds like she’s going to ship her car back to California.”
Dion’s eyes narrowed. “So the vehicle was stolen.”
“I thought so, too. But she seems to want to give it back.”
Dion shook his head, a mirthless chuckle escaping. “That’s what they all say.”
The Soldier and the Single Mom Page 5