No Substitute

by Susan Diane Johnson

Thankful to see the neon sign announcing the drive-in theater, he turned onto the well-lit gravel road that led to the box office. A cloud of dust rose and covered the truck in a haze.

  “I just washed it,” he grumbled.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He didn’t want Amy to think he was one of those guys who couldn’t stand to see a speck of dust on the paint job.

  Part of an old cow pasture, the drive-in doubled as the movie theater and a go-cart race track. When they drove up, the field was illuminated with floodlights. Several go-carts buzzed around in circles, their engines sounding like super-powered lawn mowers.

  “It looks like there isn’t a movie tonight after all.” Amy sounded almost hopeful.

  Quentin glanced at her. Did she want to go home already? The thought struck him with a pang of disappointment.

  “Maybe we should have called first.”

  “No,” Quentin said quickly. “They run the movies every night, just like when we used to come here together. I just wanted to get here extra early to scope out the parking lot.”

  “Ooooh. I see.” The corners of her mouth quirked to match the teasing in her tone.

  “Yes. Before you even say it, you’re absolutely right. I do intend to park right behind her. If things get out of hand, Shayna will most definitely see me and know we’re not here on a date.”

  There. He’d said it. Not a date. That should make her happy.

  He turned from her to roll his window down and waited for the clerk to notice him. The brightness of the neon lights made him squint.

  “Hey,” said the teenage boy. He nodded at Quentin, the lights glinting off his black sunglasses. Quentin wondered why they had the lights so bright the employees had to shade their eyes.

  “The movie won’t start for an hour,” the boy said.

  “Do you mind if we pay now anyway and just park over there? We can find our spot for the movie later.”

  The kid shrugged and handed Quentin his change. “Suit yourself.”

  “Movies are still cheap here,” Amy said as Quentin eased the truck away from the box office. “I read somewhere that there are very few drive-in theaters left in the country.”

  Nodding in response, Quentin was all too aware that it was merely small talk to cover for her—and his—discomfort over being at this place that suddenly had some pretty steamy memories assaulting his senses. They’d never actually made love, but the heated kisses, passionate embraces, and all the feelings and thoughts that lay in their hearts, certainly heightened the desire to do so. And it had always been difficult to stop. That was why he was so concerned about Shayna. He knew how quickly things could get out of hand and accelerate to something much more than just a few kisses. He trusted himself to hold back. But he certainly didn’t trust the Baxter kid.

  He backed the truck along the far side of the concession stand, certain he’d be able to see each and every car that came into the lot, and then switched off the ignition. The truck was bathed in a sudden, familiar, intimate darkness, making him even more uncomfortable.

  “Those must be new.” Amy pointed at the go-carts. Her voice was breathy and her hand fluttered. Quentin wondered if she was equally as uncomfortable.

  “They’ve been here a few years. When the theater changed ownership, the new people sold off the cows and replaced them with these rinky-dink things.”

  “Have you ever tried them out?” There was mild interest in her tone.

  Could she be hinting that she wanted to risk life and limb in one of those little contraptions? Or worse, maybe trying to find out how often he came here with a date. He didn’t want to admit the answer, which was never.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t see many men my age racing around this crazy little track.”

  “Hmm...” was all she said, and combined with her look of pure delight, that ‘hmm’ suggested the go-carts had alerted her sense of adventure.

  “I’ll go get us some popcorn.” He hoped to divert her.

  Amy raised one eyebrow. “Trying to change the subject?”

  “No, I—”

  “Chicken?”

  Oh, no. He could see what was coming and squeezed his eyes shut as if that would be enough to stop what he knew was about to happen.

  “Eat my dust.” With her challenge, Amy unfastened her seatbelt.

  Quentin groaned. He didn’t want to do this!

  “Loser buys the popcorn.” And with that, she was out of the truck and racing toward the go-cart booth.

  Quentin followed her, loving her spirited, adventurous side. But at the same time, he dreaded folding his body into one of those contraptions. Go-carts weren’t his style. A boat maybe, a hydroplane, even a man-sized race car. But not a go-cart. And yet, she’d issued him a challenge. He loved a challenge, and found it especially nice coming from Amy. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  “Fifteen bucks,” muttered the clerk, another teenage boy, around a cigarette. Quentin winced as the smoke hit him full in the face and wondered about the safety parameters concerning smoking around the little gas engines.

  “Did you say fifteen bucks?”

  “That’s right. Fifteen bucks for ten minutes around the track.”

  “Ten minutes? That’s it?”

  “Believe me, mister.” Quentin noticed an emphasis on mister, as if it were synonymous with old. “Ten minutes is all you’ll want in one of these things.”

  He did believe it and wondered if there was a diplomatic way out of doing this. But Amy was already climbing into her little blue vehicle, so he sighed and handed over his fifteen bucks. No wonder the owners got rid of the cows. Go-cart racing must be much more lucrative than milking cows.

  “Come on, Quentin. What’s taking you so long?”

  Amy was strapped in and fastening a motorcycle helmet over her short cap of hair. She was impassioned, vivacious, laughing, enticing. He swallowed hard and tore his eyes away. She might be enjoying herself right now, but he doubted she’d be able to get her cart headed in the right direction before their ten minutes were up.

  ****

  Amy felt more alive than she had in years. She felt young, carefree, happy. All the things she couldn’t remember ever feeling in her adult life. It was great. She steered the little cart around the curves in the track then gave it more gas. It lurched as it picked up speed. Between the road noise and the vibration of the wheels on the bumpy track—not to mention the exhaust fumes, Amy felt like she was an Indy driver. Looking over her shoulder to smile at Quentin, she noticed he wasn’t behind her.

  No matter. He’d undoubtedly catch up. Men thought they were so much better at this sort of thing than women. Of course, Quentin hadn’t been entirely thrilled with this idea of hers. Maybe he hated go-carts. Maybe he didn’t know how to drive one. Maybe he wouldn’t catch up with her. She laughed out loud, not sure why the thought made her feel so good.

  There was something to be said for throwing caution to the wind, letting go and giving in to impulse. Amy was glad she had, and for the first time, she was actually glad she’d come back to town. That sense of trepidation was gone. She felt...content. This was right; this was where she was supposed to be, here, with Quentin, enjoying herself as if nothing bad had ever happened to separate them. Maybe they could eventually pick up where they left off. Joy and hope blossomed within her, and she sent a small thank-you heavenward.

  “This is great,” she shouted as she passed Quentin on the track. Not sure if he heard her over the buzzing whine of the engine, Amy looked over her shoulder. That was when she realized he was still sitting at the starting point. He’d never moved!

  “Watch out!”

  Startled, Amy jerked her head around to see that while looking over her shoulder she’d drifted into the path of an oncoming cart. She jerked the wheel hard to the right but was too late to avoid the collision. The impact was jarring, in spite of the low speed. As if in slow motion the two vehicles screamed and whined as they slid, in tandem, sideways a
cross the track.

  By the time they skidded to a halt, Amy sat there dazed, breathless, and feeling incredibly stupid.

  Instinctively, she slipped her hand under the shoulder harness and rubbed it along her collarbone. It was sore, but not horribly so. She hated to think what might have happened if she hadn’t been strapped in. True, the carts didn’t achieve a high rate of speed, but there were dents where the two vehicles had met, and she knew they both could have been seriously hurt. Her gaze flew to the other driver, a teenage boy who looked horrified.

  “Are you hurt?” She studied the boy, distressed that she hadn’t even given him a thought until that moment.

  “I’m fine,” he gasped. “But lady, what were you thinking?”

  She looked away from his prying eyes, her mind grasping for an answer. Thinking? She’d been thinking about Quentin.

  “I— I should have paid closer attention, I know.” She started to apologize but he spoke again.

  “Say, I know you. You’re that new teacher at the high school, aren’t you?” He sounded delighted, like he’d made some wonderful discovery.

  Great. Just great. This was the last thing she needed. Had the kid seen Quentin? Would he make the connection and spread it around that a teacher was dating a parent? Swallowing hard, Amy nodded. “But please, I’d appreciate it if word of this didn’t get around the school.”

  “Oh, I understand,” the boy said eagerly. “Reckless driving isn’t exactly something you want the kids to know about you. If you know what I mean.”

  Wincing, she nodded weakly. The sound of running footsteps, and her name being shouted repeatedly, saved her from coming up with an answer. Quentin. She looked up to see him racing toward her, frantic. Feeling teary-eyed all of a sudden, she fought down an urge to collapse in his arms. It was an instinctual urge, she knew, because he was male with big strong shoulders meant for comforting a woman. That’s all it was. Instinct.

  “Amy, are you OK?” He unfastened her harness with trembling fingers, his brow creased in concern. “Can you stand?”

  “Yes, of course.” She did, with his help, and then he halfway guided, halfway lifted her out. He pulled her close and, instinct or no, she leaned willingly against his shoulders savoring his warm strength as it surrounded her. Inhaling the pleasing, comforting, familiar scent of his aftershave, she was reminded of a dozen other times when he’d held her like this.

  “Amy, I’m so relieved. When I saw the crash, I—” He broke off and merely stared into her eyes like he was trying to soak her up. She swallowed hard. The look in his eyes was more than concern, and if she ever doubted he’d once cared for her, she didn’t any longer.

  “Ma’am, are you OK?” Amy looked over Quentin’s shoulder to see the youth who’d outfitted her with the go-cart. Before she could assure the boy that she was OK, an older gentleman raced up behind him.

  Out of breath from running, the man’s words came out in a wheeze. “What happened here? Is anybody hurt?” He pulled a hanky out of his pocket and mopped the glistening sweat from his forehead, while studying Amy with a worried expression.

  “I’m afraid I was looking over my shoulder instead of paying attention.” Amy stepped out of Quentin’s arms to face the man, who was most likely the owner. She shivered, suddenly chilly, and swallowed hard. “I guess I drifted in front of the other cart.”

  “Well, ma’am.” The gentleman looked slightly nervous as he patted his brow with his handkerchief again. “Pardon me for saying this, but a little thing like you, maybe you should watch from the sidelines next time. The track can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  If he hadn’t been so sincere, so concerned, Amy might have been offended at what he was suggesting. She knew he meant no harm though, so she merely nodded.

  Beside her, Quentin cleared his throat. “I’ll be glad to pay for any damage.”

  “No, Quentin,” she said in a rush. “It was my fault and I’ll take care of it.”

  “Well, look here,” said the owner. “A few dents are no big deal. My youngest son likes fiddling with these things, and he’ll be happy to have something to mess around with. No one’s hurt, and that’s the important thing.”

  “Can I finish my ride, mister?” The boy Amy collided with was back in his vehicle, looking anxious to be on his way.

  “Sure thing. In fact, why don’t you take an extra ten minutes on the track? Randy?” He turned to the teenager who’d been in charge of assigning carts. “You see that this fellow gets some extra time, OK?”

  Randy nodded and shuffled off in the direction of the starting line, and the teenager took off in his cart with a backward wave at Amy. Oh, she hoped he kept his mouth shut at school on Monday morning.

  “Now then, why don’t you two come on up to my office and I’ll treat you to a nice hot cup of coffee.”

  “That would be nice, thanks.” Amy didn’t drink coffee, but she didn’t want to hurt the man’s feelings so she started to follow him off the track.

  Before she could leave, Quentin reached out and grasped her by the shoulders. She turned and looked at him, confused.

  “She’ll be right along sir,” he called to the man. “She just needs a minute to collect herself.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Shh. I do.” And with that, Quentin drew her into his arms. His lips gently brushed hers, tenderly, petal soft at first.

  Only a heartbeat passed before Amy relaxed in his arms and gave in to the urge to wrap her arms around his back. In doing so, she pulled him closer, reveling in the weak-kneed feelings that encompassed her as he deepened the kiss. And when he did, she was swept back to high school just as if the intervening seventeen years had never happened. Just as if the world was, as it had been then, full of hope and golden promise.

  Just Quentin and her, together again.

  6

  The kiss, that wonderful, soul-stirring kiss, changed everything. Quentin may have felt nothing but protectiveness toward her, but Amy knew in that one instant that she’d never stopped loving him.

  Dare she even hope he felt something for her? Yes. She dared. She hoped. And her heart soared much like it did when she received her very first kiss from him back in the tenth grade.

  He held her hand as they made their way to the little office at the back of the drive-in’s concession stand, and stood protectively beside her while she sipped the bitter coffee Mr. Owens insisted she needed to calm her ‘feminine’ nerves. In spite of the fact that she knew he was chomping at the bit to get back to the truck so they could watch for Shayna, Quentin made polite small talk with the man. Maybe he sensed that Mr. Owens needed his own nerves calmed down.

  Either way, she admired his good manners. He displayed those manners again, when they arrived back at the truck, insisting she needed something to eat, despite her protests to the contrary. Then, after seeing she was seated comfortably in the truck, he ran back to the concession stand.

  Now, sitting alone in the plush interior of Quentin’s truck while she awaited his return, one thing was certain. Crystal clear. She had to let Jared know there was no future for them. Even if she left Goose Bay today, tonight, and never looked back, Quentin Macmillan would always hold the key to her heart. To give less to another man would be wrong, and she could never do something so cruel to a man as good and decent as Jared.

  The kiss, followed by the tender way he’d held her hand as they walked to Mr. Owens’s office, had flooded her soul with memories of tenderness and passion. She wondered if Quentin felt the same way.

  As Quentin neared the truck, she stretched across the seat and opened his door. He caught it with his hip and held it that way while Amy took the tray with the sodas and hot dogs. Quentin plopped two tubs of popcorn next to her and climbed in. Amy sniffed deeply, inhaling the heavenly smells of popcorn and hot dogs, and felt like a kid again. Movie food. Not her normal everyday fare, but perhaps that made it all the more heavenly.

  Once he was settled and they wer
e munching contentedly, Amy asked, “What kind of car are we looking for?”

  “I’m not too sure,” Quentin said. “We’ll just have to watch and see if we can spot them or watch for them to go and get snacks. Surely they’ll be doing that.”

  “Of course. Snacks and teenagers just sort of go together.”

  With the illumination of the floodlights still lighting the area, it was easy to watch each car as it pulled in, searching for Shayna and her friends. At least that’s what she thought until one by one, low riding cars and small pickup trucks with tinted windows and loud thumping music rolled and bounced past them in search of a parking spot.

  “I sure hope she isn’t in one of those,” Quentin grumbled.

  Amy hoped not either. If Shayna happened to be in a car with dark windows, there’d be no way to spot her. With the tight set of his jaw, she could practically hear Quentin’s teeth grind together. She pictured him whipping car doors open in search of his daughter.

  Quentin stirred agitatedly in his seat. Amy put her hand on his arm, as much to calm herself as him. He shrugged away from her touch. Along with the sting of rejection, a thousand doubts assailed her. He’d been right when he said this was her fault. If she’d separated Shayna from Bradley when Quentin first asked her to, none of this would be happening.

  Dear Lord, she prayed silently, please keep Shayna safe. And please, Lord, I don’t want to feel this way any longer. Help me realize I don’t belong here. I don’t want to be rejected like I was when I was a teenager. Help me forget the kiss we shared, help me put the past, and Quentin, behind me and walk away from here.

  “That’s them,” Quentin said when he spotted a mini-van full of girls. Shayna sat directly behind the driver, laughing animatedly. Amy didn’t recognize anyone else in the van, though she was sure Ashley was in there somewhere.

  Quentin started the truck and flipped on the parking lights.

  “As soon as they park, I’ll grab the spot behind them.”

  They watched until the van finally eased into a spot several rows from the concession stand. Quentin took a sip of his soda before he shot Amy a smile.