Half Past: A Novel

by Victoria Helen Stone

  Damn. She made herself look away. He might be the right man, but this wasn’t the right time. She’d save him for her next midlife crisis. Drive back to Big Sur with new tits and a red convertible and sleep her way through all the hot bartenders from here to San Diego.

  “The band is playing tonight,” he said, “if you want to hang around awhile.”

  “Are they good?”

  “Good enough that I pay them. Mediocre enough that it’s only for one night a week.”

  “Ha. Well, unless there’s a better show in walking distance, I guess that’s good enough for me.”

  He slid the drink to her, then slipped an extra cherry into the glass before popping another into his mouth. “Pay up,” he ordered.

  “Okay. Have you ever heard the term Jesus freak?”

  “Of course. Christian hippies.”

  “Am I the only one who didn’t know that? We don’t have those in the Midwest! Anyway, apparently Jacob’s little commune wasn’t so much about free love as it was about bringing hippies back to the Lord.”

  “Ah. That makes sense.”

  “How so?”

  “There seemed to be some ominous notes in what I was hearing. Fire and brimstone kind of stuff.”

  Hannah leaned forward, both hands wrapping around the drink as if it were an anchor. “Really?”

  “Yeah. In fact, I saw my mom this morning, and she said she felt bad for those poor sinners who’d strayed from the word of God.”

  Hannah smiled. “Oh, and does she feel bad for you?”

  “Definitely. She thinks if I started going to church, I might give her grandchildren.”

  She almost choked on her sip of whisky. “Seems more likely if you skip church and stay in bed.”

  “I’ll float that theory by her.”

  “I have to say, it’s a relief to know I’m not the only one who’s a procreative disappointment.”

  “Hey, at least the expectations end for you at a certain age. I’m close to fifty, and my mother still assures me I have plenty of time.”

  “Don’t worry. You do.”

  He snapped a bar towel in her direction. “Bite your tongue.”

  “All right, but then you won’t get the juiciest tidbit of all.”

  Gabriel leaned a hip against the bar and stared down at her. “Spill it.”

  “Her name was Rain. My mom.”

  “Rain.” The name made him smile too, and she liked that.

  “I know there were probably a hundred girls named Rain who passed through here, but it’s something.”

  “It’s great. How did you find it?”

  “I made that old handyman at the inn tell me. Joe. Do you know him?”

  “Not really. Seen him around. He’s not exactly the social type.”

  “I definitely got that feeling. You don’t think he’s dangerous, do you?”

  Gabriel shrugged. “Not that I’ve heard.”

  “Anyway, he admitted that he crashed at Jacob’s Rock for a few months before things got too churchy. And he gave me Rain’s name. After I chased him down. I’m pretty proud of myself. It was a great Scooby-Doo moment.”

  “Maybe you should tug on his beard and see if he’s really Rain underneath that mask.”

  “Good tip. I’ll try it next time.”

  She noticed his gaze wander toward the dining room and tipped her head. “Go on. I’ve taken up too much of your time.”

  “No, but I should go make the rounds.”

  “Of course. But, oh!” She dug in her purse for the stiff sheet of folded paper. “I’m sorry. Just one more second?”

  “Absolutely.” He leaned against the bar, waiting for her to unfold the paper and slide it toward him.

  She pointed at the signature. “Do you know a woman named Maria Diaz? She supposedly witnessed my birth.”

  He went still, looking down at the name she’d indicated. His eyes tightened in something that almost looked like anger.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like you’d know anyone with a Hispanic last name. I just thought there was an off chance she might still be here.”

  “No.” He shook his head and flashed a tight smile. “No, it’s fine. The name sounds a little familiar, but there are quite a few Marias around. I’ll check into it.”

  “Thank you. She obviously lied about my birth for some reason. I’d love to know why.”

  “Absolutely. Excuse me.”

  He disappeared into the kitchen, and Hannah spun the birth certificate around to stare at it. When her stomach growled, she realized Gabriel hadn’t taken her dinner order. At least she had the drink to keep her company until he returned.

  CHAPTER 14

  Ninety minutes later, she was stuffed full of fish and chips and drunk enough that she was pretty sure the house band was the best cover band in America. They were playing one of her favorite Elvis Costello songs when she glanced out the front window and saw Gabriel in the moonlight, staring at the highway.

  If she’d been sober, she would have left him alone, but she had too much false bravado dripping into her veins to pass up the opportunity. She slipped out the front door to join him. She was surprised to see him raise a cigarette to his mouth and take a long drag.

  “I didn’t know you smoked.”

  He glanced over with a flat-mouthed smile before he blew out a long stream of smoke that hovered in the heavy air for a moment before curling toward the stars. “I don’t. Quit a few years ago.”

  “Now it’s a guilty pleasure?”

  “Something like that. I give in about once a week.”

  “Seemed like a good night for it?”

  “Must be the music. Makes me feel young again.”

  She reached for his cigarette and stole a drag herself. “I smoked in college. I give in about once a year.”

  “It can’t possibly hurt, can it?”

  Hannah shrugged, closing her eyes as the nicotine hit her hard. “No more than a thousand other things.”

  “How’s the band?” he asked.

  “They’re amazing, actually. Or your drinks are amazing. Either way, tonight feels good, thanks to you.”

  “I’m glad.” He went quiet after that. Even over the muffled music and the soft whir of insects, she could feel his silence.

  Hannah opened her eyes and flushed at the way he was staring at her.

  “I like the way you look when you feel good,” he said.

  Her heart thumped hard. Once. Twice. When he lifted a hand to stroke it along her jaw, her heart surrendered its attempt at strength and raced to a fluttering speed. Damn, damn, damn.

  Her lips parted to draw more air, and his gaze fell to her mouth, and she felt so damn glad he was going to kiss her. This day had been too long, and she wanted something sweet to cap it off.

  When he leaned in, she smiled and he smiled back, so the kiss started light and happy. But it didn’t stay there.

  He shifted closer, taking her more deeply, and he tasted like her youth. A teenage boy behind his father’s barn, stealing smokes from his parents and kisses from a girl. Hard liquor and fresh cigarettes and cold outdoor air.

  She’d lost her virginity in a barn just like that, on a crisp autumn day, with a boy who’d been thoughtful enough to bring blankets and condoms. She’d loved him for a little while, and then she’d moved on. It could be the same with Gabriel.

  A car blew by, kicking up air, and she didn’t give a damn. She was standing drunk beneath the stars, kissing a hot man next to a midnight highway. The breeze smelled of the ocean and strange trees, and everything felt so new.

  She heard Gabriel flick the cigarette away, and then both his hands were framing her face, tipping her head to open her up for him. She did.

  When she slid her arms around his waist, her thumb found the edge of his shirt, and she slipped beneath it, pressing her hand to the searing heat of his back. He inhaled sharply, and the power of that spiked through her veins. She slid her hand higher, reveling in t
he curve of his spine under her fingers.

  He turned her body, and Hannah let herself be eased toward the side of the restaurant. If she’d seen Gabriel smoking out here, then people could see them kissing. She didn’t want to be seen. She wanted darkness. Eyes closed. Lights off. Neither of them looking, just feeling, touching, tasting.

  His mouth left hers and moved to her neck. Hannah gasped. She panted. Gravel scuffed under her feet. She felt the wall of the restaurant against her back. She arched her neck, and Gabriel made a deep noise of approval as her fingernails dug into his back to pull him closer.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered when his teeth scraped the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

  There were a hundred reasons not to do this, but there always were. Sex wasn’t supposed to be logical, and God, she’d missed the desperate, clawing need of doing this the wrong way. The right way. The only way worth doing.

  She dropped her jacket in the dirt, and then his hands were on her just the way she’d wanted, sliding beneath her top, his fingers rough and rasping on her skin.

  Hannah reached for the button of his jeans, fingers fumbling between the denim and the heat of his body. He cursed against her neck. Shook his head. But instead of saying no, he growled, “My place.”

  She nodded and grabbed her jacket, and he wrapped his hand in hers to lead the way along a dark path that circled the roadhouse. A small, high window cast a little glow and a lot of kitchen noise as they hurried toward a porch light twenty feet away.

  He opened the door and, as if he’d read her mind, didn’t bother hitting any light switches. They made it about two feet in before she was against the wall again. He dragged her top up and all the way over her head. She helped him tug his off too. In the dimness of the moonlight, she saw his wallet, heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper. She pulled his mouth back to hers, then struggled to strip out of her tight jeans.

  Afraid that he might be slow or gentle or something else she didn’t need, Hannah wrapped one leg around his hip and dug her nails into the back of his neck. “Yes,” she growled as he stroked over her, and then he was inside her, hard and deep as she hissed in satisfaction.

  Neither spoke after that. Their mouths were too busy. Their hands. Their bodies.

  Within minutes, they were on the floor, and how long had it been since Hannah couldn’t even make it to a couch? Ten years? Twenty?

  She felt the marks she’d left on his skin, and she didn’t care. There had been a spark between them since that first meeting, but tonight it was something frantic and dark. She closed her eyes and let herself feel every second of it. The climax hit her fast and hard, almost before she was ready, as if her body were trying desperately to escape her mind and its endless worries.

  She let herself go. Let herself feel nothing but pleasure.

  Afterward, Gabriel panted above her, his sweat-slick forehead pressed to hers, their rapid breaths tangling together. “Damn,” he rasped.

  She huffed out a laugh. “Just what I was thinking.”

  “I thought we were too old for this.”

  She curved her hand around the nape of his neck and eased him down for a sweet kiss. “We are. Your knees might never be the same.”

  “True. But worth it.”

  She kissed him one last time before letting him go. He rose, and a light came on somewhere as she grabbed her panties and jeans and tugged them back on. Laughing quietly, she shook her head as she wiggled her jeans up her thighs. God, she felt so much better. Maybe this midlife crisis thing wasn’t so bad after all.

  He stepped back into the hall, and she watched his silhouette button his fly. “I’m sorry.” His voice rumbled through her, and she shivered. “I have to get back.”

  “I know. It’s fine.”

  “Stay,” he said. “I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

  Hannah sighed. She wanted to. Wanted to grab a beer from his fridge and stretch out on his couch and wait for another round. “I can’t.”

  “My bed is comfortable, and I make a damned good chorizo hash. Stay.”

  She shook her head and sighed again, letting him hear her disappointment. “I really can’t. It’s just . . . too complicated.”

  He watched her for a long moment, then offered a hand to help her to her feet. “All right.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, her nose, her mouth. “I’ve gotta run. Take your time.”

  He grabbed his shirt, and then he was walking out, his boots crunching on the gravel, the taste of him still on her mouth.

  She stood against his wall and wondered if she should change her mind and stay. She’d only be here for a couple more days, surely. And after a few nights back in Coswell, Iowa, lying alone in her childhood bedroom, she would regret not getting a little more of Gabriel Cabrillo.

  Her life felt as fragile as cracked glass right now. There might be relief in throwing caution to the wind and breaking it wide open just to get it over with. Jump right into chaos and risk and damn the consequences.

  But no. The sex had been enough risk for now. She couldn’t add emotion and romance to the mix.

  She got dressed and walked away from Gabriel’s bed and the roadhouse and back to all the shit waiting for her at the cabin. But she also walked back to the fire, the quiet, and her own company. It wasn’t the worst choice she’d ever made.

  CHAPTER 15

  She fell asleep in a T-shirt and underwear like a normal human, and that was a damn good thing, because someone was pounding on her door when she woke up. Hannah sat straight up, bleated a quick “What?” in confusion, and then stared at the door as her heart did its best to tear its way out of her chest.

  “What?” she asked again more loudly, but it was still just a croak.

  The knocking came again, slightly less booming now that she was awake and not filtering the sound through a dream. Light trickled in from the opposite window, and judging from the watery grayness, she’d woken to another cloudy morning.

  Still blinking, Hannah jumped from bed, tugged on a pair of yoga pants, and opened the door.

  She was met by the irritated face of a sullen teenage girl.

  “Hi,” Hannah said, surprised to see the girl who’d checked her in. Somewhere between jumping from bed and opening the door, she’d decided it was the old groundskeeper coming to confess another memory.

  The girl raised her chin in greeting. “Somebody called the inn looking for you, and Tucker wanted me to let you know.”

  “Someone called?” She felt a sharp spark of alarm for her mom. “Who?”

  The girl looked down at the palm of her hand where she’d scrawled a name in black ink. “Jeff Wessing. He said he sent an email and wants you to call when you can.”

  “Oh. Okay. Thank you.”

  The girl was rolling her eyes as she turned away, but Hannah was already closing her door and didn’t give a damn. She grabbed her laptop and logged in, her mind racing with possibilities. Was something wrong? Was he okay?

  A glance at the corner of the screen revealed it was only eight in the morning, but that meant it was ten in Chicago, and when the mail screen popped open, she saw that he’d already sent two emails.

  She felt a stab of guilt as she remembered what she’d done last night and grimaced with relief that she hadn’t stayed at Gabriel’s. What if the hotel had passed on the message that her bed wasn’t slept in?

  So she’d made a good decision. She’d now racked up several in a row and felt damn proud.

  Hannah opened the first email. Hey, I found more information. Can you call me this morning?

  He’d sent it at 5:00 a.m., 7:00 his time. The second email he’d sent two hours later. At work now. Give me a call. I think this is important.

  She wrote back immediately. Sorry, I just woke up. What’s going on? Is everything ok? Do you have an app for video calls? You can just use my email address.

  She’d only had time to pee and wash her hands before her computer made that chirping alert. Hannah glanced in the mirror to be sure she d
idn’t have any visible hickeys—that would just be rude—then bounded back to the bed and answered the call.

  And suddenly Jeff was right there. For the first time in months. That pair of worry lines between his brows. The jaw he only bothered shaving every third day. His nose too big on the screen but just fine in person.

  “Hi,” she said, smoothing down her bedhead. Hopefully he couldn’t see the guilt on her face. It was worthless anyway. No doubt he’d been dating for months now.

  “Hey!” he responded. “Sorry if someone from the inn woke you. I was going a little stir-crazy sitting on this information, and I started to wonder if you’d already checked out or . . .”

  “Or you were being super single-minded again?” she asked.

  He smiled that familiar sheepish smile. “Was I? Okay, probably I was. But from here it all seemed a little dire.”

  “It’s fine. I probably didn’t need a full nine hours of sleep. But why dire?”

  “Well . . . I sent out some feelers last night, and I woke up to a note from a colleague at UC Berkeley who does some work with local history. A lot of people in that area wrote memoirs about their exploits during the ’60s and ’70s. They all thought they were on a unique adventure, you know? But the truth is most of the memoirs read pretty much the same. Lots of drugs and free love with no consequences, that sort of thing.”

  “Let me guess. They’re all men?”

  Jeff laughed, leaning too close to the camera so his smile filled her screen. “You got it. How would you even know if you’d knocked someone up when you’re all on the road and constantly moving?”

  “Bastards,” she said, an old joke between them, and his smile softened before fading altogether. She cleared her throat. “I guess maybe it’s a miracle my dad stuck around. Or she did.”

  “Well, that’s the thing . . .”

  “What?”

  “I think she might have stuck around for other reasons.”

  Hannah made a hurry-up gesture. “What other reasons?”