Zeke laughed. “I got that one at age four.”
“Go on,” she said. “The keys are in it.”
Zeke took off like a man finding his dream. She heard the motor start and walked outside to see the Corvette back out of the garage. Heading for the highway, he waved his hat in the air like a cowboy as he let out a loud yell. McKenna smiled as he peeled down the main street.
* * *
“DID YOU ENJOY your stay?” Parker asked as he angled the car out of Catoosa.
“I did. Zeke offered me a job if I ever need one.” She laughed. “I guess I’ll always think of him working on his Studebaker.”
Parker had seen the car in the garage. “That’s his?”
She nodded. “He’s been working on restoring it for months. It needs an engine before he can go any further.”
“Think he can find one or will he have to build it?”
“He has sources, auto clubs, classic car dealers. Still, he’ll probably have to build it. What about you? Are you glad to be on the road again?”
“Being at the factory was an experience I wouldn’t want to repeat any time soon. My back still aches. But it served its purpose and, like I said, I definitely have a new respect for people who live that life and make mine easier.”
The road changed outside Catoosa, transforming from smooth blacktop to cracked pavement to hard concrete and back to smooth blacktop. Parker wished they were on the highway. He wanted to drive fast and get where they were going.
Since arriving in Catoosa, his relationship with McKenna had been hot and cold. Right now they were on a warm setting, but sparks could flare up at any moment, either good ones or bad ones. He was sure they were headed for an explosion and he wanted to get to their destination first to try to ward it off.
Maybe she felt the same, since they drove farther and for longer than they had since leaving Chicago. They crossed Oklahoma and the Texas Panhandle, taking time to stop at the Cadillac Ranch for some photos before it was on to Santa Fe and stopping for the night. They found a motel and dinner, during which they didn’t talk much.
“New Mexico is a beautiful state,” Parker said, wanting to break the silence. “We missed a lot of it after the sunset.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Many times. I’ve been to conferences and art shows.”
“Art shows? You like southwestern art?”
“I appreciate some of it. It was Loretta who was the true lover of art. She’d come with me if I had a meeting out here. When we parted, her collection of silver and turquoise was quite extensive.” Parker noticed McKenna’s eyes opened slightly wider with the mention of his ex-wife’s name. It was the first time he’d mentioned her without being prompted. “I have a couple of landscape paintings I bought there.”
“Did the artist become famous?”
“I never checked. They hang in my office. Maybe you’d like to see them when we get back.”
It was an invitation for her to visit him. Parker hadn’t thought of that when he made the statement. But he wasn’t about to take the words back and he didn’t regret them. He could picture her standing in his office, viewing the paintings.
One reflected the colors of the land and buildings, the sandy mountains in the background. Parker was drawn to it by its sparseness. The painting and the land needed nothing more and the artist had captured that. The second painting was of desert flowers. Again sparse pops of green on an adobe-colored background and one white bud looking as if it was fighting to survive among the harsh sun and waterless terrain.
“I would,” McKenna said.
Parker had only a second to look at her in the moving car, but their eyes met and he saw something there. He had to focus on the road, but he was sure McKenna had masked her feelings as soon as she thought he could see them.
At that moment he made a decision. There was something he had to do. She wasn’t going to like it, but he was going to do it anyway. He had to find out the truth.
* * *
“WE SEEM TO be rushing,” McKenna said the next day when Parker took over the driving at a rest area. They’d left New Mexico behind and were heading for Arizona. “We’ve only stopped long enough for me to take a few pictures.”
“Is there someplace particular you’d like to stop?” Parker asked. “There isn’t much to see along this stretch of road.”
“It isn’t that. I guess it’s that the end of the trip is in sight. We’ve been on the road for over a month. And we only have one more state to cross. Maybe I’m feeling restless because we’re getting on each other’s nerves.”
“Am I getting on your nerves?” Parker asked. “You’re not getting on mine.”
“Not even with all my stubbornness? Not with having to share your space with me, not to mention being in a car that only holds two people and the space between us is teeny-tiny?”
“You’re very refreshing, McKenna,” he laughed. “You have no idea the effect you have on people.”
“What effect?”
“Mostly, that they like you. Right away you win them over. They always trust you. And you tend to make them feel comfortable instead of pushing your brain on them.”
“My brain?” she said with a frown.
“That’s what I mean. You’re not even aware you’re doing it.”
“Doing what?” she asked.
“You’re one of the most intelligent people I have ever met, yet when people assume you know nothing, you don’t get angry or righteous, you just prove how smart you are and you never make them feel belittled. It’s a quality I love.” Parker shot a glance her way. He wondered if she’d pick up on the last word or if she’d assume it was only a figure of speech.
“That’s a nice thing to say. I want people to treat me the way I treat them. For the most part they do.”
“Who taught you to act that way? I know your parents died when you were young. Who brought you up?”
“My parents died when I was a senior in college. The person I relied on after that was Marshall. My mom and dad were honest, fun-loving people. They did a lot of things together and I never remember either one of them making malicious fun of the other. Maybe I’ve inherited the characteristic.”
Parker envied her. Even though her parents were gone, they’d left her a legacy that would get her ahead. Parker knew people responded positively to her.
His parents had been quite different from hers. His father was stern, approving of nothing and no one. When Parker wanted to go to college, he chose schools that were far from home. His father refused to pay. Belligerent at the time, Parker walked away without a nickel of support. Or any of the emotional kind, either.
It was hard work and a stroke of luck that he got a full scholarship and met some good people, including Marshall. After graduation and his post-doc work, he landed a college teaching job and thought that was how he’d spend the rest of his life.
“Did you reconcile with your parents?” McKenna asked.
“How did you know we weren’t the model family?” She always surprised him with her insight.
“You told me about the backyard campout that didn’t happen. Your sister is in China and your brother is in Washington State. Your tone when you mentioned him wasn’t a happy one. And since then you haven’t brought them up in conversation. I figured there must be something that keeps you from talking about them.”
“My mother is wonderful. How she managed to marry a man as domineering as my father is a mystery to me. He loves her completely. I have no doubt of that, but I never knew who I or my sister and brother were to him.”
“How’s your relationship now?”
“We tolerate each other at holidays, weddings and funerals.”
“That’s not much of a relationship,” McKenna said.
“No
, I suppose it isn’t.”
“Parker, you don’t realize how lucky you are to have parents. I’d give...” She stopped then and he saw the emotion on her face, even though she was staring straight ahead through the windshield.
“You’re a different type of person because of what you went through,” he told her.
“You’ll regret not having a better relationship with him in the future.”
“I don’t think so,” Parker replied.
“Take my word for it. Like you recognized Joanna as a runaway, I know you’ll miss your parents when they’re gone. You still have the opportunity to change that. You should take it.”
“What should I do? I can’t force my father to love me.”
“You don’t think he loves you?” McKenna asked.
“In his own way, perhaps.”
“So you’re punishing your mother because you don’t want to approach your father.”
“I see her...”
“Yes, on holidays, weddings and funerals. How often do they happen?”
* * *
“MY FATHER DOESN’T want to see me. I couldn’t wait to get out of my parents’ house. The ironic thing is, I now support them and my father has never even said he’s appreciated the help.”
“Is that the way you see it?”
“See what?” Parker asked.
“That he needs to come to you and say thank-you for the help.”
“It would be nice.”
“It wouldn’t.”
“McKenna, I have no idea how you’re coming up with these assumptions when you hardly know a thing about my relationship with my parents.”
She considered how harsh his tone was. He obviously didn’t want to discuss his parents. Yes, he missed his mother, but he and his father had never looked at the same thing with a compatible eye.
“I know I should drop the subject. It’s obviously uncomfortable for you, but as someone who has so much insight into other people, you’re extremely blinded by your own situation.”
“Can we drop this subject?”
“Sure we can, but that doesn’t mean you won’t keep thinking about it. What you’ll do is suppress it, force it to the back of your mind until something else covers it over and you don’t have to deal with it. All that does is postpone the inevitable. It creates a bomb that will eventually explode over something unrelated to the real reason.”
“I suppose this is what happened to you?”
“Yes,” she whispered in a voice that wouldn’t allow Parker to explore it. If he didn’t want her probing into his family history, he shouldn’t be allowed to delve into hers.
“When my parents passed away, I never cried. I went through the ritual of the funeral. I listened to all the platitudes and said all the right things. Whenever anyone mentioned them, I’d change the subject, make a joke, or find a reason to leave the room. It was Marshall who understood what I was doing. He explained what would happen if I didn’t let go of the emotions I was holding inside. I didn’t believe it. I didn’t even accept that he was right. In my mind I was fine.”
“What happened?”
“I exploded, not over anything having to do with my parents. It was a coffee cup in a restaurant.”
“A cup?”
“I was having lunch about a year after their deaths. The waitress served my coffee in a cup that had a trace of someone’s lipstick on the edge of it. Instead of asking for a clean cup, I ranted at her, totally lost my cool. I called her stupid, and asked if she understood her job. I went on and on like a crazy woman. I was crazy. With pent-up emotion. And once I’d started, I couldn’t stop. I could see myself acting completely out of character, but I couldn’t stop.”
“What did the waitress do?”
“I don’t know. Marshall heard the commotion. He rushed in, dropped some money on the table and carried me out of there. I cried it out in his arms.”
“You don’t expect me to cry it out?”
“I have no right to expect anything of you. I can only tell you that if you don’t resolve issues when you can, they’ll change you as a human being.”
“So I’ll end up a lonely old man with nothing to show for my life and no one to mourn my death.”
She looked straight at him as if his prediction was how it was going to be. But she knew better. He’d have plenty to show for his life and as far as having no one to mourn him, he couldn’t be more wrong.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE REST OF the drive to Flagstaff was in silence. McKenna didn’t regret what she’d said, but the timing and how she said them could have been better.
Parker was obviously thinking about what she’d said. His brow was furrowed as if he were looking into the sun.
It was noon when they arrived in Arizona. Stopping at rest areas along the way, McKenna picked up magazines and brochures offering discounts at motels and hotels.
“There’s a motel that seems to be clean and cheap enough for us,” she told Parker. He didn’t appear to be listening to her. In fact, instead of turning toward the center of town, he turned the opposite way.
“There’s someplace I want to go,” Parker said.
“A detour?” After their conversation yesterday, McKenna thought it best to let him lead the discussion.
After a while, he turned the car onto US Route 180, going north. Parker drove the road as if he was familiar with it. He seemed to know exactly where he was going and had been there many times before.
“What’s our destination here?” McKenna finally had to ask after they’d been driving about ten minutes.
“To a little mountain resort about fifteen miles from here. We’ll stay there for the night.”
“A resort. Can we afford it?”
“This is summer, so the rates are a lot lower than they would be in winter.”
She stiffened as if making the connection to the reason for this detour. “Why are we going there?
“Marshall.” His one word was clipped and succinct.
The last fifteen miles to the resort were met with increasing tension. McKenna wondered if she was about to eat her own words. She’d lectured Parker about ridding himself of pent-up emotions. Was that what he was doing for her? Was he taking her to the place where Marshall died?
The resort was a log cabin–looking building that was the size of a mansion. The lobby was lined with dark wood. A huge stone fireplace covered a far wall. Comfortable chairs were placed together and arranged around the room. A stairway led to an upper floor where she could see doors to the rooms.
Parker checked them in and the desk clerk said there was an elevator that led to the third floor. Parker reached for her and with his hand on her lower back, guided her to the elevator. He didn’t stumble or make a misstep. He knew this building’s layout.
“You must have stayed here with Marshall and the others,” she stated.
“Eight of us in total. We were on the second floor. The one that overlooks the lobby.”
“I remember he liked to ski in Arizona, but I didn’t know it was here. I thought it was one of the other, more popular areas.”
Marshall belonged to a ski club and loved the sport. The group made a minimum of two trips a season.
“This one’s quieter. Less traffic on the slopes,” Parker said.
After the charged atmosphere of Chicago, Marshall would love a slower pace. McKenna liked that, too. She could see herself sitting before a fire in the lobby, enjoying a glass of wine after a long day. However, skiing was not something she enjoyed. She’d done it three times and had never gone back to it. That was why she wasn’t with Marshall when he died.
* * *
DROPPING THEIR BACKPACKS on the beds, Parker immediately led McKenna out of the room. They walked back to the car and P
arker drove them a short distance away and up a steep road.
“What are we doing here?” she asked. McKenna looked around. There was nothing there. No one else was in the parking lot except them.
Parker pulled the car into a space and cut the engine. He got out and came around to the passenger side. Opening the door, he offered McKenna his hand. She looked at it as if debating whether to accept his offer. Then she put her hand in his and he gently pulled her to her feet.
Her hand was soft. He hadn’t touched her in a while and the contact had the predictable effect on him, warm, protective and loving.
“Parker, why are we here?”
“This is the real reason for your trip.”
The air was crisp and clean. The sky a perfect blue. A slight breeze disturbed her hair. He wanted to catch it and push his fingers through it.
“What real reason?” she asked.
“This is where it happened, McKenna.”
He watched her jaw tighten. Her body became stiff and she looked across the lot at the mountain in the distance.
“There’s nothing here. This is a scenic overview where motorists could pull off the mountain and take pictures before continuing their journey. What would Marshall be doing here?”
“Not here in the parking lot. Up there.” He pointed to the top of the mountain.
“How high is that?”
“Over 11,500 feet.”
“That’s within range.” Marshall had sickle cell trait. He couldn’t fly without oxygen. Going higher than 14,000 feet while doing a physical activity could cause him to dehydrate and become so tired as to go into crisis, but 11,500 was within the safety zone.
“Only if Marshall was in tip-top condition. Which he wasn’t. And that wasn’t all.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?” McKenna asked. “You knew his condition. You were his friend. How could you let him take that run?”
Her voice was a mere whisper. The breeze about them made more noise. She seemed too angry to shout.
“McKenna, Marshall’s been dead for three years. I have the feeling you’ve never read the police report, never looked at his death certificate.”
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