What She'd Do for Love

by Cindi Myers

“Thank you.” They stood and shook hands.

  Chad escorted Christa into the hall. “You did well,” he said, his smile encouraging.

  “Do you really think so?” She glanced over her shoulder at the now-closed conference room door. The briefness of the interview alone told her she hadn’t impressed them.

  “You did fine,” he said. “You haven’t worked with the kind of big clients we usually handle, but that could be in your favor—fresh blood and new ideas and all that.”

  “Thanks for the encouragement.”

  He checked his watch—a Rolex. “Would you like to have some lunch? My treat.”

  “Oh, I...is this part of the interview?”

  He laughed. “No. I just like you and I’d like to get to know you better. This has nothing to do with the job.”

  So he was asking her on a date? She should probably be flattered. He was good-looking, nice and apparently well off. But really, all she wanted was to escape to her car and drive back to Cedar Grove. She wanted to change into jeans and boots and go riding. “Thanks,” she said. “But I have another appointment. It was good to meet you.”

  “Could I call you some time?” he asked. “Maybe we could get together for drinks or a movie.”

  “Sure.” She couldn’t think of a way to tell him no without seeming rude. And he was a perfectly nice guy, even if he didn’t set off any sparks. “Now, I’d better be going.”

  He walked her to the elevator. Only when she was safely in her car did she let herself sigh and relax. One thing she’d learned from this experience; she wasn’t cut out to work for a big corporation. She needed to find a smaller, private firm, where she worked with nonprofits and small businesses.

  On the way home, she kicked off her heels, turned up the radio and rolled down the window to let the wind blow through her hair. The farther she drove from the city, the more relaxed she began to feel. In Cedar Grove, she headed straight for the Burger Barn, starving for a cheeseburger and onion rings. She’d just collected her order from the window when Paul Raybourn waved to her from one of the picnic tables. “Hey, Christa!”

  Ryder sat across from Paul. He moved over as she approached. “Have a seat,” he said. “How did the job interview go?”

  “An interview. That explains why you’re so dressed up,” Paul said. “Who’d you interview with?”

  “A very big, very successful marketing company in Dallas.” She slid onto the bench and arranged her lunch before her, very aware of the man beside her, the bench creaking as he shifted his weight.

  “Sounds like a step up the career ladder,” Paul said.

  “It could be.” She nibbled an onion ring. “But I don’t think it’s for me.”

  “Why not?” Paul asked.

  “Would you leave Cedar Grove to work for a big bank in the city?”

  “Duh! Yes.”

  “But you know all your customers here,” she said. “You can make a difference in their lives, if you give them a loan or help them when they bounce a check.”

  “I’d learn to know my customers in the city. And sometimes it’s easier if you aren’t so personally involved in people’s lives. Sometimes I have to turn down friends who want loans, or tell people they’re overdrawn.”

  “Okay, I see that. And I don’t have anything against the city. I’d just rather help small businesses and nonprofits than big corporations.”

  “Maybe it’s time to hang out your own shingle,” Paul said. “Small marketing ‘R’ us.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Ryder said, smiling. “Everyone’s probably going after the big companies—you could build a niche market.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Though the prospect of starting her own business sounded daunting, like a big risk.

  “Speaking of work, time for me to get back to mine.” Ryder stood and gathered up the remains of his lunch. “See you tomorrow night.” He nodded and left them.

  Paul leaned across the table toward her. “What’s happening tomorrow night?” he asked.

  “None of your business.” She took a bite of cheeseburger.

  “You have a date, don’t you? Are you and Ryder secretly seeing each other?”

  She swallowed and sipped from her cup of iced tea. “There’s nothing secret about it.” Especially since Paul would go home and tell Didi, who would tell all her friends. Pretty soon the whole town would know that she’d agreed to go out with Ryder. “We’re going on one date. As friends.”

  Paul grinned. “You may think that, but I don’t think he does. Ryder has plenty of friends. What he doesn’t have is a girlfriend.”

  He winked, then gathered his own trash and left. She ate the rest of her burger and onion rings, pondering this. Ryder had admitted he was attracted to her, and that kiss certainly hadn’t been a platonic gesture. So all right, they had some chemistry. But not every experiment led to an explosion. Sometimes things fizzled out. The fizzling was what she was afraid of, but she’d vowed to take more risks with her life. Ryder was risk number one, but she wasn’t about to throw caution to the wind when it came to the handsome engineer. If he wanted her trust, he’d have to earn it, just as her grandfather had earned Swan’s love all those years ago.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  RYDER ALMOST FELT as if he should be carrying a corsage in a plastic florist’s box as he walked up to the Montgomery’s front door Saturday evening. The last time he’d picked a date up at her parents’ house must have been prom or some other high school dance. He had that same sense of nervous anticipation now, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He wanted the evening with Christa to go well, more than he’d admit to himself even.

  Bud answered his knock, the little dog, Jet, at his heels. The rancher looked tired, the lines around his eyes deeper, his shoulders more stooped. “Come on in, Ryder,” he said, holding the door wide. “Christa’s still getting ready.”

  Ryder followed Bud into the comfortable living room and sat on the sofa while the older man settled into a worn recliner. Jet curled onto the ottoman at Bud’s feet and watched Ryder with a solemn expression. “How’s the road project coming?” Bud asked.

  “Great. The weather’s been cooperating and we’re making solid progress.”

  “These budget cuts going to affect you any?” Bud muted the sound on the television, which was tuned to the news.

  The Texas legislature had made a pledge to slash state spending in the wake of some revenue shortfalls. Lots of people were worried, but so far no specific programs had been cut. “I don’t think it’s going to affect the Highway Department,” Ryder said. “Especially not a project that’s already started.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  Bud fell silent, staring at the muted television. Ryder shifted on the sofa. “How’s Adele?” he asked.

  “She had a bad day today. She’s resting now.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Christa wanted to stay home with her mom, but I told her not to be ridiculous. There’s nothing she can do, and if she’s here, Adele thinks she has to be strong—pretend everything’s all right. She’ll rest better if she knows Christa’s out enjoying herself.”

  Not good. Christa had been reluctant to go out with him to begin with; now she had an even better reason to be distracted all evening.

  “Hello, Ryder.”

  He stood as Christa came into the room. As always, she was dressed stylishly, in a short skirt and high heels. He forced his attention to the rest of her, which looked just as good in a silky blouse, her newly styled hair curling up at the top of her shoulders. “Hello, Christa,” he said. “You look nice.”

  “Thanks.” She turned to her father. “I checked on Mom. She’s sleeping.”

  “That’s fine,” Bud said.

  “There’s some chili in the
refrigerator you can have for supper,” Christa reminded her dad. “And some fruit salad.”

  “I’ll be fine. You two go on now.”

  She bit her lip, but said nothing more. Ryder followed her to the door and held it open for her. Outside, he put a hand on her elbow to steady her on the uneven ground. Unnecessary, probably, but he wanted to touch her, to offer some kind of silent comfort.

  He opened the passenger door of his truck for her and waited until she was belted in before he walked around to the driver’s side. “Where are we going?” she asked, as he started the truck.

  “You know this area better than I do,” he said. “I thought maybe you’d like to choose.”

  “What if I said I didn’t know? Or I don’t care?”

  She wasn’t hostile, exactly, but this wasn’t the warm reception he’d hoped for. “I know you’re preoccupied. Your dad said your mom had a bad day.”

  She pressed her lips tightly together and nodded. “The chemo is really affecting her now. She can’t keep anything down.”

  She was fighting tears. Part of him wanted to hold her and let her cry, but he didn’t think she’d take such a suggestion well. He settled for squeezing her arm gently. “Adele is a strong woman. She’ll get through this.”

  “I wish she’d let me help her, instead of sending me away.” Christa’s voice rose, an anguished wail.

  “Sometimes it’s hard to show weakness to the people we love the most.”

  She sniffed and nodded. “Right. So I’m supposed to go out and have a good time, knowing she’s lying at home, miserable.”

  “You’re not going to make her any less miserable if you stay home. Why not try to take your mind off your problems for a few hours? I’ll do my best to distract you. It’s the only way I know to help.”

  She nodded, and forced a smile. “Sounds okay. So what do you have in mind?”

  “We could have dinner at the steakhouse, or at the Blue Bell.”

  “Not the Blue Bell. Everyone in town will see us. Next thing you know, the gossips will have us eloping.”

  He laughed. “I hope you’re exaggerating.”

  “Maybe a little. But not much.”

  “Well then, the Blue Bell is out. Would you rather go to Dallas and take in a movie?”

  “A movie’s not a bad idea, but Dallas is so far to drive.” She looked thoughtful. “I know where we should go.”

  He put the truck into gear. “Where to?”

  “The drive-in, on the old Dallas Highway.”

  He vaguely recalled an oversized screen situated in a pasture. He’d passed it on his drives around the area and thought it was a relic from days past. “I didn’t realize that place was still open.”

  “It is on weekends. Bill Omar runs it. His wife and daughter operate the concession stand—they do really good barbecue sandwiches, and the best popcorn, with real butter.”

  “This is sounding better all the time. What’s showing?”

  “Bill chooses the movies, and he tends to favor Westerns, but as long as you’re not picky about the show, it’s a lot of fun.”

  “I’ve never been to a drive-in movie,” Ryder said. He’d been to theatres in France and Japan and Germany, but never one in an old cow pasture.

  “Now you can check it off your bucket list.”

  They arrived at the single-screen pseudo-movie theater right at full dark, a sliver of moon rising up behind the big screen which was indeed set in the middle of a pasture. Ryder paid the gum-chewing teenager at the entrance, then dodged more than one cow patty as he steered to a parking space next to a speaker on a stand.

  “Roll down the window partway and clip the speaker on the glass,” Christa told him. She unbuckled her seat belt and stretched. “Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful night.”

  “This place is pretty popular,” Ryder said. All around him, spaces were filling up with trucks and cars. Families, teenagers and older couples stood among the vehicles, chatting and eating. Some people brought picnic suppers, but most formed lines at the little trailer that served as a concession stand.

  “Saturday nights in Cedar Grove, it’s either this or the bowling alley, or maybe a high school dance.”

  “Want to grab dinner before the show starts?” he asked.

  “Sure.” Christa opened her door and slid out of the truck.

  He met her at the front bumper. “Those heels probably aren’t the right footwear for a cow pasture,” he said.

  “They aren’t that high, and I’ll be careful.” She hooked her arm in his. “I can lean on you.”

  “Anytime.” They started toward the concession stand, but had to stop three times to speak with people who greeted either Ryder or Christa, or both.

  Melvin Nimechek was there, with his wife, Beryl. “Good show tonight,” the old rancher said. “It’s John Wayne.”

  “I’m sure we’ll enjoy it,” Christa said, and leaned closer to Ryder. He put his arm around her and she didn’t object. He was beginning to feel a lot better about tonight.

  At the concession stand they waited in line for paper boats of barbecue sandwiches and coleslaw. The enticing aroma of spicy barbecue sauce and buttery popcorn filled the air. “Do you want popcorn now?” Ryder asked.

  She shook her head. “Maybe at intermission.”

  “There’s an intermission?”

  “Bill has to change the film reels.”

  “So he hasn’t gone digital.”

  “He probably won’t. It’s too expensive and this is merely a hobby. He likes movies and likes to share them with others. Whenever he can’t get film to fit his old projector, he’ll have to shut down.”

  Ryder looked around at the crowd of locals, everyone friendly and relaxed, visiting among the cars. Modern movie theaters weren’t conducive to this kind of socializing among all ages, with everyone keeping to their seats in each little theatre. “I’m glad I got to see this spot before it’s gone,” he said.

  “Me, too.”

  They gingerly made their way back to the truck and spread their meal out on the console between them. Good thing he wasn’t a teenager looking to score, Ryder thought as he fit his drink into the cup holder. The console was a solid barrier between him and his date, and the truck had no backseat. “Maybe drive-ins died out because cars changed,” he said. “No more comfortable bench seats.”

  “When I was in high school, some of the boys would back their trucks into the slots and bring quilts to make a kind of bed in the back,” Christa said. “They told Bill they wanted to be more comfortable, but, of course, they really just wanted to make out. He made a rule they couldn’t do that anymore.”

  “Being teenagers, I’m sure they found other methods to sneak in some necking,” he said.

  “Do you speak from experience?” she teased.

  “Oh, I’ll never tell.”

  The speaker blared to life, startling him. Christa laughed again. Such a lovely sound; he was glad she was able to put her worries about her mother behind her for a while.

  The evening began with a classic cartoon. “My sisters and I used to watch this,” Ryder said. “Saturday mornings, when we were living on base in Texas.”

  “How old were you?” she asked.

  “Eight or nine. Sherry and Megan were six and four. We spent all morning in our pajamas, watching cartoons and eating giant bowls of sugary cereals. During commercials, we’d stage battles with our Ninja Turtle figures.”

  She laughed more, covering her mouth with one hand and rocking back and forth. “I’m picturing it now—so cute.”

  “I had buck teeth and a cowlick that made my hair stick up in back.”

  “On an eight-year-old, that qualifies as cute.”

  “Good thing I had braces when I was older, and grew my hair out to
hide the cowlick. What about you? Did you watch cartoons?”

  She nodded. “With my grandmother.”

  “She liked cartoons?” He never remembered his parents as part of those Saturday mornings. They were still asleep, or otherwise occupied.

  “She did. She told me when she first came to the United States, she improved her English by watching TV.”

  “What did she think of Westerns?” He nodded toward the screen as the intro for the main feature appeared. “Did she like John Wayne?”

  “She did. She had a thing for cowboys. Maybe that’s why she married one.”

  The feature began and they settled into an easy silence. Ryder had seen the movie before, years ago, but he found himself caught up in the story again. In the cars around them, people applauded at familiar lines, or even recited them along with the actors. Children raced between the cars, some folks sat on lawn chairs between the vehicles, while others shared popcorn and candy in the front seats of pick-up trucks and sedans. The atmosphere was as relaxed and comfortable as a living room.

  At intermission, Christa sat up straight and stretched. “What do you think so far?” she asked.

  “About the movie? It’s better than I remembered.”

  “I meant about the Cedar Grove Drive In.”

  “I like it. I hope Bill can keep getting the movies he loves to show. Want to get some popcorn?”

  “Not really,” she said. “But I wouldn’t mind a walk.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Once more, she let him take her arm. They picked a route across the pasture to more level ground near the concession stand and port-a-cans. “Tell me about Friday,” he said. “Do you really think the job you interviewed for is a no?”

  “The interview wasn’t long enough. And my answers were too honest. I didn’t tell them what they wanted to hear. I doubt they’ll ask me back, but that’s okay. I don’t think it was a good fit for me.”

  He recalled her words at the Burger Barn. “The company’s too big and impersonal?”

  “Something like that. I think I was spoiled by my first job and now I don’t want to settle for less. I know I can’t have exactly what I had before, but I want something I can feel good about.”