That seemed to satisfy her. She put the Explorer on cruise control and adjusted her seat back. She and Matt talked a little bit about not much of anything.
Mostly they listened to the music. It started to drizzle before they passed the Atlanta airport, with the rain growing more intense as they headed south. They lost the classic rock station just south of Macon, right after they heard a tornado warning issued for all of central Georgia. “We were watching the Weather Channel before you picked me up. It’s a tropical storm,” Matt told her. “Moving up from the gulf. Ought to help with our drought.” Instead of being comforted, she pictured Erin, alone in the little Honda, swamped by the torrential downpour. She kept her worries to herself. The radio played mostly static until they picked up a decent country station just over the Florida line in Perry, where Matt insisted that she let him drive.
She gave in gratefully and dozed off as soon as she climbed into the passenger seat.
It was still dark and still raining when she felt the Explorer come to a stop. Mary Bliss yawned and stretched. They were in a motel parking lot. A neon vacancy light splashed a pink pool of light over the flooded-out pavement.
“What time is it?” she asked. “Where are we?”
“It’s five o’clock,” he answered. “We’re right outside Ocala. I can’t see for shit through this rain, and I’m beat. We’ll get a few hours sleep and hit the road again.”
“I can drive,” Mary Bliss objected.
“It’s just for a few hours,” Matt said. He had one foot out of the car. He turned and fixed those gray eyes on her. “You’re not afraid to be alone with me, are you?”
“No,” she said warily. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
She watched him splash through the parking lot into the motel office, saw him through the rain-streaked picture window, standing at the check-in desk. He emerged a few minutes later and was soaked by the time he’d run back to the Explorer. He shivered in the cool of the air conditioning and drove around to the back of the horseshoe-shaped motor court. The buildings were typical Florida fifties construction, concrete block slathered with some kind of fake stucco painted a shrimpy orange. Faded green canvas awnings covered each doorway.
Matt grabbed a canvas duffle bag and her own overnight bag. He ran to the door and unlocked it quickly, standing aside to let her enter.
It had only been a quick sprint from the car to the room, but now Mary Bliss was drenched. Her T-shirt clung to her back, her hair was plastered to her head. The room seemed to be left over from an old Laugh-In set. The wallpaper was metallic gold with huge abstract Day-Glo pink and orange daisies, set off with pink-and-gold striped drapes, and orange shag carpet. A window air conditioner sent arctic blasts into the room.
“Groovy,” Mary Bliss said, rubbing her arms for warmth. She stared at the bed. It was a king-sized waterbed covered with a shocking pink fake-fur bedspread.
Matt saw the expression on her face change. “It’s all they had,” he said, peeling his wet polo shirt over his head and draping it over the back of an orange vinyl chair. “There’s a girls’ softball tournament this weekend. Every room in town is booked.”
She looked quickly away, but not so quick that she couldn’t appreciate his tanned, well-muscled chest and the flat belly with dark hair that thickened below his exposed navel. She shivered involuntarily, then tried to cover with an exaggerated yawn. “So you rented the love shack,” Mary Bliss said. She took her overnight bag from him and headed into the bathroom. “At least the ceiling doesn’t leak. Anyway, I’m too wet and too tired to argue right now.”
She dried her hair with a threadbare towel, then brushed her teeth and washed her face, peeled off her bra, and stuffed it into the overnight bag. She had a nightgown in her bag but decided to change into a clean T-shirt and jeans. She’d sleep in the same bed with him, but just for a few hours. And as far as he knew, she’d be fully clothed.
He was hanging up the phone on the bedside table when she emerged fully clothed from the bathroom. He frowned but said only, “I left us a nine A.M. wake-up call.” He looked just fine without a shirt. She was running out of places to look, so she watched while he took his wristwatch off and laid it carefully on the nightstand on the right side of the bed, leaving it near the clock radio. He took his wallet out of his pants pocket and laid it beside the watch.
Mary Bliss frowned. She’d always slept on the right side of the bed. Always.
“Bathroom’s free,” she said, gesturing toward the door. As soon as he’d closed the door, she picked up his watch and wallet and relocated it to the left-hand nightstand. She peeled the fake-fur spread off the bed, folding it neatly at the foot. She carefully inspected the sheets. They appeared to be clean, if somewhat faded. She climbed into the right side of the bed and set up an immediate wave action that sloshed her gently into the middle.
She frowned and worked herself back to the right edge. But that set up the wave action again, and soon she was marooned again—back in the middle.
Mary Bliss looked suspiciously at the bathroom door. She could hear water running from inside. He was a cop. He had connections. Had he somehow planned this? No, she decided. Nobody deliberately planned a seduction in the middle of a tornado watch in Ocala, Florida.
She got out of bed, scooped up the fake-fur spread, and rolled it up like a rug. She placed it squarely down the middle of the bed, like a gigantic curb. She smiled with satisfaction, patted the bumper, and got back on her side. She still rolled into the middle, but now she had a distinct boundary. She squished the pillows to fit her head, turned off the lamp, and tried to relax. She yawned, closed her eyes, but every muscle in her body was tensed. The waistband of her jeans cut into her flesh. She sighed, peeled them off, then climbed back under the covers in her T-shirt and panties, pulling the sheet up to her chin. Better. She closed her eyes again and finally fell asleep to the sound of the water running.
Sometime later, she was vaguely aware of a door opening. She heard a puzzled “I’ll be damned,” felt the wave action setup when he collapsed onto the bed. Her body tensed, then floated gently toward the middle, then stopped. She didn’t dare open her eyes. Was he naked? She held her breath and listened. Matt was right beside her; the only thing separating them was the fake-fur bumper. She smelled his deodorant, felt the heat of his bare shoulder inches from her own.
There was that humming feeling again. Very distinct. And very weird. She hadn’t really slept in twenty-four hours. And now she was in bed, mostly undressed, in a motel with a strange man. She’d slept alone for three months, and before that, with Parker McGowan for nearly twenty years. She was acutely aware of Matt’s closeness. She was cold and scared, and face it, she yearned to have somebody hold her close, to tell her it would be all right. He was so close. Right beside her.
But she was so tired. And married, technically. Fortunately, Matt was apparently as exhausted as she was. She listened to the reassuring rise and fall of his breathing, letting its rhythm lull her back to sleep. The last thing she remembered was wondering: boxers or briefs?
It seemed like only minutes later the phone was ringing. The phone was of the same vintage as the rest of the room’s furnishings, and the ring was sharp and insistent. Before she could open her eyes and reach for it, she heard the bathroom door fly open. A figure hurtled across the room. Matt dove for the phone, landing nearly on top of her.
“Hello?” he whispered. “Yes. Thank you.” He put the phone back in its cradle. She opened her eyes. He looked down at her. He was soaking wet, with a towel draped around his middle. “Wake-up call,” he explained. “I thought I’d let you sleep a little longer.”
“I’m awake now,” she said, trying to scoot out from under him. But the waves were building. She rolled and he rolled with her.
“You’re getting me wet,” she whispered.
With a finger, he traced a droplet of water from the corner of her eye to the corner of her mouth.
“You talk in you
r sleep,” he told her.
“What did I say?” she asked, alarmed.
He grinned. “You said, ‘Matt. Matt. I want you, Matt. Take me, Matt.’ ”
She tried to sit up. “In your dreams.” He leaned hard on his elbow, and she rolled back into him. He fitted his arms around her waist. He really was dripping wet. She was shocked to find herself wondering what was under that towel. He kissed her neck. She flicked a speck of shaving cream from the tip of his earlobe.
“We better get going,” she said, trying to scoot away.
“That’s what I was thinking,” he murmured in her ear. He slid his wet hands under her T-shirt, up her back. She shivered slightly, which he totally misinterpreted, because in another instant he was pulling her T-shirt up over her head.
“That’s not what I meant,” she protested, but he was butting her gently with his hips, kicking the covers aside. That set up another wave action, but he locked her in his arms and they rolled the crest together. What with all that rolling, the towel came undone and Mary Bliss’s questions were answered. Very shortly after that, they were both quite wet, and quite naked. Somehow, she forgot to be shocked. Somehow, having outlived its usefulness, the fake-fur bumper rolled off the other side of the bed.
At one particularly vigorous point in the proceedings, the waves sent Matt rolling off too. He sat up, roared with laughter, and climbed back onto the bed. “I feel like a pirate,” he told her, catching her to him and kissing her with Crest-scented breath. “I’ve never made love in a waterbed before, have you?”
“Mmm-mmh,” Mary Bliss breathed. She’d never done a lot of things before that she was doing this morning. She was going to chalk it all up to being newly blonde.
“When we get married, let’s get a waterbed, okay?” he said, sliding his hands down her back. “We can play pirate every night. What do you say?”
“What?” Mary Bliss said, catching her breath.
“Pirate. You know. I board your ship, ransack and ravage you. Or we could take turns. You be the pirate.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Mary Bliss said. “The other thing you said. When we get married.”
He stopped kissing her and propped himself up on his elbow.
“You know. I meant, after all this business with Parker is settled. After we get Erin home safely, and after you divorce his sorry ass. Not right away. After.”
“Oh,” she said. She sat up and pulled the sheets over her breasts. She took a deep breath. “This is all going kind of fast for me, Matt. I mean, we only met two months ago.”
“It’s been longer than that,” he said, frowning. Now he got out of the bed and pulled the towel back around his waist. He disappeared into the bathroom and came back out dressed, his hair neatly combed. He picked up his wristwatch and put it on, took his wallet and put it back in his pants pocket.
“You go ahead and shower,” he said curtly. “I’ll go get us some coffee and gas up the Explorer. Try to be ready in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay,” she said, weak with disappointment. She’d really blown it. Now she might never find the answer to that burning underpants question.
71
“This is a bad time for me,” Mary Bliss said quietly. Matt had turned the Explorer’s radio to an all-talk station. The woman host was excoriating working mothers, deadbeat fathers, and everyone everywhere who talked on a cell phone in a restaurant.
Matt kept his eyes on the road. “I know that,” he said finally.
“I haven’t started a relationship with a man in more than twenty years,” she said. “Parker was the first man I was ever with, you know, sexually. To tell you the truth, I always thought he would always be my only.”
He glanced over at her. “You really thought that?”
She sighed. “I was naive. But that’s how I was raised. All of this is so new to me…”
He gripped the steering wheel, his arms locked as though he were trying to push it away. “This isn’t a casual thing for me, you know. I’ve tried to tell you that from the start. I’m not a casual person. I don’t really…date. I want to be with you. I want to be part of your life. Is that so hard?”
She sighed. “I’d like to be with you too. But my life is such a mess…”
Mary Bliss had put Erin’s cell phone on her lap. It rang, surprising her so she jumped slightly.
She fumbled with the right button, finally connecting on her second try. “Erin?” she said breathlessly.
It was Josh. “Mrs. Mac? It’s about Erin.”
“Did she call? Where is she? Is she all right?”
“She’s all right,” Josh said quickly. “She called your house last night. We tried to call you, but I guess maybe you were out of range or something. Anyway, she’s okay. She was at a police station, way down in Waycross, Georgia. She tried to use your Visa card at a gas station there, and like you said, it was no good. And Erin got upset and tried to drive off without paying, so the gas station guy called the cops, and they arrested her.”
“Dear God,” Mary Bliss cried. She turned to Matt. “Erin got arrested for trying to use my credit card at a gas station in Waycross. She spent the night in jail.”
“Josh, is she all right?” Mary Bliss asked.
“I guess,” Josh said. “Mr. Weidman talked to the sheriff, and he was wiring the money Erin owed to the gas station people this morning. Once they get it, they’ll drop the charges and the sheriff says Erin can go. He said he’ll put Erin on a Greyhound bus back home.”
“A bus?” Mary Bliss tried to picture Erin after a night in a South Georgia jail cell. “I don’t want her riding a bus back home after what she’s been through.”
Matt’s jaw tightened. “I’ll turn around at the next exit. We can make Waycross by noon. I used to know a deputy in Ware County. I’ll call, make sure they take care of her.”
“That would be wonderful,” Mary Bliss told him. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks.
Matt nodded and put on his turn signal.
“Mrs. Mac?” Josh said, his voice hesitant. “You had another call this morning, just a little while ago. It was Mr. Mac. He said I should tell you the hospital called. It’s kinda bad news. He said I should tell you Erin’s Meemaw died.”
Tears sprang to Mary Bliss’s eyes. “When was this?” she asked, her voice nearly a whisper.
“He just said it was early this morning. He asked to speak to Erin, but I told him she wasn’t here.”
“Did you tell him where she was?”
“No, ma’am,” Josh said. “I just said you guys were out of town, and I’d come over to pick up the newspaper.”
“Good,” Mary Bliss said. Josh was an excellent improvisationalist. Were all teenagers that accomplished at lying?
“Did Parker leave a number where he could be reached?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” Josh said. “He just said I should tell you he wasn’t dead after all.”
She nearly laughed. It was so perverse. So insane. Such a relief.
“All right, Josh,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “You did well. We’re down in Ocala, so it’ll take us maybe five or six hours to get back there, after we get Erin bailed out. If Mr. Mac calls back, try to get him to leave a number, will you?”
“Uh,” Josh started.
“I’ll talk to Erin when we get to Waycross,” Mary Bliss said, her voice firm. “I’ll tell her the truth. I won’t keep her from seeing her dad if that’s what she wants. I promise.”
When she turned off the phone, Matt was in the process of heading the Explorer back north.
“Eula died this morning,” she said simply.
He winced. “I’m sorry.”
“I guess it was for the best. She hated being sick. Hated the doctors, hated feeling so powerless. I just wish things had gone differently. I wish…I wish she could have seen Erin one more time. I wish I could have told her that Erin wasn’t pregnant. That she was okay. That we’d all be okay.”
“What abou
t Parker?” Matt asked.
“He’s the one who called the house to say she died,” Mary Bliss said. “Josh actually talked to him. Parker called to tell Erin her grandmother was dead.”
“And that he wasn’t?”
“I guess,” Mary Bliss said. She tilted her head back against the headrest and massaged her temples. “Parker didn’t tell Josh where he was. I know the nursing home contacted him last night to tell him Eula was in bad shape. I just hope he made it to the hospital in time to see her. I’d hate to think she died all alone.”
Matt shook his head in disgust.
“What?” Mary Bliss asked.
“Her son treated you like dirt. She treated you like dirt. Called you names, refused to help you. She knew where Parker was all along, and she wouldn’t tell you. Seems to me, she doesn’t deserve any of your sympathy.”
“I can’t help it,” Mary Bliss said simply. “She wasn’t much, but she was family. My own mama’s been dead a long time now. I guess I just never took Eula personally. It wasn’t just me that she was mean to. She was mean to everybody. Except Parker. She never gave up on him. He was her son, and to her, he could do no wrong.”
“Love is blind,” Matt observed.
Or maybe just stupid, Mary Bliss thought. She glanced surreptitiously over at the man sitting beside her. For some crazy reason, this gorgeous, sexy man seemed to think he loved her. But what did Matt Hayslip really know about Mary Bliss McGowan? They had done everything backward. He knew the intimate things. That she had a small mole beneath her right breast. That she talked in her sleep. That she slept on the right side of the bed. And where she liked to be touched. But he knew nothing about her politics, her past, her passions.
He reached over and took her hand, as though he could read her thoughts. He put the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. A chill ran down her spine. It was a good kind of chill.
“Quit it,” he said.
“Quit what?”
Little Bitty Lies Page 38