Saving Evangeline

by Nancee Cain

  She sighs and rolls over in her sleep and I leave her bed, feeling empty and bereft.

  Chapter Twelve

  I AWAKE TO THE SOUND of the steady hum of the air conditioner and sit up with a start, feeling disoriented and hungover. The angel bear I’m clutching reminds me we’re somewhere in the Midwest, and we wasted money at a carnival last night. My head pounds, but I don’t remember having anything to drink last night.

  Goner and Remi aren’t in the room, and I experience a momentary sense of a panic at being alone. I ease up in bed, careful not to jar my aching head. A quick glance around the room reveals Remi’s bed already made, as if it had never been slept in, but that’s the norm. He’s a fanatic about bed making, never leaving it for the maid, like I do. His suitcase is packed and stands by the door with Goner’s bowls. I allow myself to take a deep breath and clutch the stuffed animal to my chest. At least I haven’t been abandoned. Yet.

  With a loud yawn, I shove my hair behind my ear and climb out of bed, taking the bear with me to pack in my suitcase. Strange, I hadn’t noticed she had one black feather in her wings. It looks out of place so I pull it out and throw it in the trash. Something niggles at my memory, but without the benefit of coffee, it’s too much to process. I toss the bear in the suitcase without another thought and grab some clean clothes, heading to the bathroom for a quick shower. Feeling relaxed and strangely happy despite the headache, I smile and hum as I bathe.

  When I exit the bathroom, I find Goner seated at Remi’s feet, wagging his tail and begging for food. Remi sits at the rickety table by the window dressed in his clericals, sipping a cup of coffee. He feeds the dog his last bite of biscuit. His wary gaze follows me and makes me pause for a moment. Is he mad at me for sleeping in? Tucking my foot under me, I sit on the edge of my bed, accepting the cup of coffee and ham biscuit he hands me.

  “Thanks and good morning.” For some strange reason, heat rises in my cheeks. “What, no Froot Loops?”

  His eyes don’t meet mine and he grunts in response. There’s a strange vibe in the air between us and my paranoia creeps in, putting me on guard. What’s he up to? What have I done? I take a breath and calm myself down. Plastering a smile on my face, I decide to “fake it till I make it” with casual conversation.

  “I must have slept like the dead. I didn’t even hear you leave. Did you get a free breakfast?” I motion toward his priestly garb.

  He stares at me for a few seconds. “It came with the room.” The dark circles under his eyes make them appear a deeper green than usual, and the disturbing, haunted look makes a shiver of unease creep up my spine.

  “You look tired. Didn’t you sleep well? Did I snore, or something?” The food and coffee have helped ease my headache, yet my stomach rolls, feeling queasy. Maybe something we ate yesterday has given us both a bug.

  His hand fumbles and he sloshes coffee on his shirt. With an exasperated sigh, he drags himself to the sink to rub it with a damp washcloth. “I, uh, no. I didn’t sleep at all.”

  “I’ll drive and you can catch a nap.”

  He looks at me in the mirror and his brow furrows. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His eyes search my face with an intensity that makes me squirm a bit.

  “Aside from a slight headache, I’m fine. Better than fine. I feel great, actually.” I take a sip of my coffee and grin at him. “I even promise not to kill myself today.” I wiggle my eyebrows, but my smile fades when he doesn’t immediately laugh or give a smart ass reply. Something’s wrong but I can’t put my finger on it. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, sure.” Remi smiles at me in the mirror, but it doesn’t quite reach his tormented looking eyes. He’s distant this morning, as if he has a lot on his mind. “I’m fine. I can relax a little knowing you’re not planning any suicide missions today. That’s progress.”

  I cross the room and stand behind him, rubbing his neck and back as I peer around him and stare at him in the mirror. “I haven’t done anything to make you mad, have I?”

  His color blanches. “No, not at all. Why would you say that?”

  “Because you’re acting all weird and shit.” It hits me why he’s mad. The kiss on the Ferris wheel. My toes curl just thinking about it. “Hey, we just got caught up in the moment. It’s okay,” I lie.

  It’s not okay. I’m falling in love with him.

  “Caught up in the moment?” Sweat beads on his brow and he drops his gaze.

  I wonder if he’s coming down with something. He looks downright sick. The muscles in his neck and back tighten even more. I work with my thumbs to loosen them and he closes his eyes, humming in the back of his throat. An image of his lips on my body mingled with the sound of his moans causes something akin to an acid flashback.

  “It was just a kiss…” The pounding in my head escalates, as if a marching band has taken up residence there. I struggle to pull something from my memory that seems to be just out of reach.

  Or was it a dream? I drop my hands and turn away, confused and a little frightened. Am I now suffering blackouts? My brain feels more muddled than usual, and I can’t seem to remember anything after leaving the carnival. I try to hide my escalating terror. Fake it till you make it.

  “Sit down, Crazy Girl. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He has the decency to blush at his insensitive blunder. After all, seeing ghosts is the crux of my problems. His discomfort is nothing compared to the sudden physical reaction I’ve just experienced with my hallucination. My cheeks feel like I have a second-degree burn, and my body tingles with a sexual awareness of Remi that is even more unsettling than usual.

  “Just a kiss. You’re right. It was reckless and I apologize. I’m, I just…” he stumbles on the words looking defeated. “I’m sorry. Truly, truly sorry. Forgive me?”

  My heart sinks. I turn my back to him and begin throwing the rest of my clothes in my suitcase. I have plenty of room since our dirty clothes are in his. “Sure, of course. Whatever. It was just a stupid kiss. It isn’t like I expect you to declare your love for me, or anything.” I slam my suitcase closed, refusing to look at him. “I’m going to step outside and check in with Mama.” I grab my phone and run outside, and despite the blast of early morning August heat, it’s easier to breathe out here than in the room with him.

  “Hi, Mama.”

  “Evie, how are you this morning?” The unspoken questions are enough to set my teeth on edge. Are you taking your meds? Have you gone off the deep end lately?

  “I’m fine, you?” I’m fine except for my X-rated visions, dreams, hallucinations, or whatever the hell you want to call them, involving a priest. If I were to speak my thoughts aloud, I’m sure it would cause my good Catholic mother to drop dead of a heart attack.

  The relieved sigh Mama gives in response speaks volumes. “I’m taking it easy like the doctors told me to.”

  “That’s good. We should be there in a couple of days.” Why did I call her? It’s not like I can tell her what’s bothering me.

  “I look forward to seeing you.” Mama pauses before adding, “I miss you, Evie.”

  I hear her sniffling and swallow the lump in my throat. A need to feel my mother’s arms around me and hear her tell me everything will be okay makes me unable to speak for a few seconds.

  “I miss you, too, Mama. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  We chat for a few more minutes about inane nothings before hanging up. For a brief moment, I wonder if having me there and dealing with my issues might be too much of a burden for her weak heart. I hope not. I make a promise to myself to be more patient with her and to try harder to repair our relationship. Maybe I’ll even go back to seeing a therapist. This latest blackout is a little too scary.

  The door opens and Remi hands me Goner’s leash as he makes his way to the car with the suitcases. He looks exhausted and makes no protest—which is unusual—when I insist on driving. After getting buckled in, I look over at him in his dark pants, black clerical shirt with the stif
f white collar and grin. “Planning to have all your meals comped today?”

  He winces and runs a finger around the inside of the clerical collar as if to loosen it. “No, not really. All my civvies are dirty. Although, I guess free meals could be a perk.”

  “We’ll look for a laundromat this evening. Even though we’re headed north, those clothes have to be hot as hell in this heat.”

  His smirk spreads and lingers. For the first time this morning, he appears to relax a little. “You have no idea.” He kicks his seat back and grunts when Goner decides to join him in a nap by hopping on his chest. “Stupid dog.” The hand affectionately scratching the mutt behind his ears says something else.

  “At least the storms have passed.”

  His eyes looked unsettled as he gazes out at the bright sunshine for a moment. “Yes, it should be clear from now until we reach Seattle.” He sighs and closes his eyes, petting the “stupid dog.” It doesn’t take long for the sound of their combined snoring to compete with the classic rock radio station.

  I’m enjoying the drive. The landscape is different from south Florida and I love the wide-open spaces. I’d stop and take pictures, but I don’t want to risk waking Remi. Sleeping priests are like sleeping dogs, best left alone. Bright sunshine makes sunglasses a necessity, and the heat gives the pavement a wavy appearance. There’s very little traffic on this stretch of road, so I’m surprised when a hitchhiker comes into view up ahead.

  As I pass him, dark enigmatic eyes meet my gaze, drawing me in even more than his good looks. His plaid shirt is unbuttoned, exposing well-defined abs and a nice happy trail leading into the waistband of his worn jeans. A duffle bag sits beside his feet and a cowboy hat covers his hair. Looking in the rearview mirror, I see he’s standing with the help of crutches. I pull over, slamming on the brakes.

  “What the—” Remi sits up with a start, rubbing his eyes, looking like a sleepy little boy. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, go back to sleep. I’m just stopping to give this guy a ride.”

  He turns and looks out the back window as the hitchhiker slowly makes his way toward us on his crutches. “Are you insane?”

  “I think we both know the answer to that,” I reply with a grin.

  “Evangeline, you can’t pick up a hitchhiker; it isn’t safe, or smart,” he snaps with a frown, glaring at the stranger hobbling toward us.

  “Where’s your compassion, Father? The guy is out here in a hundred-plus degree heat on crutches. We can’t leave him here to die.”

  “Sure we can.” The closer the guy gets to the car, the more agitated Remi becomes, drumming the dashboard with his fingers, making the Virgin Mary and hula girl dance like they’re at a rave. His scowl darkens. “He won’t die. Look, I’ll give him a bottle of water and some money. We are not letting him in this car,” he says authoritatively.

  I roll down my window as the guy draws nearer.

  “Thanks for stoppin’, sunshine.” The cowboy tips his hat and flashes even teeth, made whiter by the attractive dark stubble on his strong jawline. He leans his forearms on the window and stoops down to peer inside the car. His grin grows wider when he sees Remi. “Hiya, Pops.”

  Remi coughs and gasps, “Pops?” His eyes widen with either horror or indignation, possibly a combination of both.

  “Padre, Father, whatever.” The cowboy shrugs nonchalantly, turning his attention back to me. After the cold shoulder Remi’s given me all morning, my feminine pride enjoys the interest.

  “Where are you headed, and why are you hitchhiking?” I ask, trying not to stare at the expanse of bare, well-defined pecs in front of my face. I may have an unhealthy attraction for the priest sitting next to me, but I’m not blind. This guy is gorgeous.

  “Well, to make a long story short, my girl dumped me out here in the middle of nowhere. I was headed to Billings to see my grandmother.”

  Remi snorts next to me and I glare at him, wondering what his problem is. Turning back to the cowboy, I smile. “Why did she dump you? What’s your name?”

  He holds out his hand and takes mine in his firm grasp. “Rafe. Rafe Goodman, ma’am. I haven’t been able to work since I got out of the service. I’m still recuperating from the sniper shot I received trying to rescue some orphans in Afghanistan. Me and my girl got into it about money and me not being able to take her dancing.”

  Rafe sighs and looks down for a few seconds. “Unfortunately, we were in her car on the longest, loneliest stretch of highway around. She put me out like yesterday’s garbage.” When he pulls his gaze back to mine, tears fill his dark eyes. Even though I’m a little suspect about the whole story, I feel sorry for the guy. Besides, it takes crazy to appreciate crazy.

  “That’s terrible. How could anyone do that to someone who’s sacrificed so much for his country?”

  “Maybe he beat her, or he’s a raging alcoholic,” Remi offers. “We don’t need to get his entire life story. It’s hot and we need to get going.” Remi shoves a bottle of water and a twenty toward Rafe. “Here you go, buddy. Call someone who cares.”

  My mouth drops open and I glare at Remi. “Good God, why are you being such an ass? What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you go back to sleep, Father Grumpy Bear.” I turn back to the cowboy. “Please, excuse him, Rafe. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

  Rafe’s eyebrows shoot into his cowboy hat and his mouth drops open. Remi sounds like he’s dying as he hacks and chokes beside me. I pound him on the back and give him the bottle of water he just offered Rafe. Glaring at the cowboy, he manages to take a drink and stop coughing.

  “Why don’t you take a picture, it lasts longer,” he snarls at Rafe. Remi’s lack of compassion confuses me. It’s totally out of character for him. Well not totally, he didn’t take any of my bullshit, but I’ve never seen him be downright rude to anyone, myself included. I elbow him in the side and return my attention to the poor crippled man.

  “Is there anyone you can call? I can let you use my phone,” I offer.

  “No, my grandmother’s sick, plus my phone was in my girl’s car. I can’t remember any phone numbers due to my TBI after the sniper attack.”

  “TBI?” I ask blankly.

  “Traumatic Brain Injury.”

  “It means he’s bonkers. You two should get along beautifully,” Remi remarks with an eye roll. “Snipers, an orphanage, and a sick grandmother? Really? You can’t come up with a better story? Buddy, I think you’ve watched too many Lifetime movies. Look, Crazy Girl, we don’t know anything about this guy. He could be a serial killer for all we know.”

  “I didn’t know you, but I trusted you.”

  “But I’m a priest!” he defends hotly, running a finger under the white collar.

  “Then act like one. Get in, Rafe.”

  Rafe throws his head back and laughs. Stepping back from the car, he balances on his crutches. The sun highlights every perfect dip of his six-pack abs. I count again, yep, six. Damn.

  “You’re staring,” Remi mutters, drawing my attention back to the conversation.

  “I’m not armed. Anyone wanna frisk me?” The cowboy holds his arms out wide.

  Me, me me…Any woman with a pulse would volunteer. He’s that gorgeous. Plus, I’m mad at Remi for giving me the silent treatment most of the morning. Yep, call me a bitch. I want to make him jealous.

  “Of course not,” Remi snaps.

  “I could, but it would upset the good Father’s sensibilities.” I smirk when I hear the hiss of annoyance next to me.

  Out of nowhere, an image of Remi kissing my neck flashes in my mind. Like steel to a magnet, I turn to face him as a searing heat creeps from my chest to my cheeks. Remi refuses to meet my gaze, staring out the window as he taps the side of the car. Is it my imagination, or is he blushing, too? I can’t seem to get the image of him naked on top of me out my head, and my heart stutters in reaction. These dreams feel even more real than the ones involving my father and Jack…Remi scowls and presses hi
s lips together in a straight line. I want those lips pressed to mine. The tic in his cheek works overtime as he clenches and unclenches his jaw.

  “I-I’m just kidding, Father. Get your rosary out of a wad.” My lame attempt at humor falls flat, and he continues to ignore me, staring straight ahead.

  The stranger clears his throat, and I drag my attention back to him.

  “Do you mind if we see what’s in your duffel? You know, to make sure there aren’t any weapons or severed limbs? It might make Father Blackson feel better.” I smile sweetly, and nudge Remi hard in the ribs when he starts to protest. I’m ready to go. It’s hot as hell and my pounding headache from this morning has returned with a vengeance.

  “Sure, anything to set your mind at ease, sweetheart.” Rafe hands me the duffel, but Remi grabs it out of my hand and rifles through it. I want to laugh and hide my face at the same time when he pulls out a box of condoms. A dark scowl crosses his face and his whispered obscenity makes me raise my eyebrows. He quickly shoves them underneath the jeans, underwear, and cowboy shirts. He zips the duffel and shoves it back in my lap.

  Rafe chuckles. “Sorry about that, Pops. I believe in covering up.”

  I’m certain my cheeks are as red as a hooker’s lipstick as I throw the duffel in the backseat next to Goner. My attention-whore dog wags his tail in anticipation of some company.

  I look at Rafe and nod toward the back. “Get in.”

  “Evangeline, this is my car,” Remi sputters in protest, running a hand through his hair making it a tousled mess. I clench my hand to keep from reaching out and finger-styling it into place. I’d like to think it’s because I’m a hair stylist, but I’d be lying to myself.

  “We can’t leave him out here, Remi.”

  “Why not? Someone else will come along and give him a ride.”

  I look at the long stretch of empty road in front of us and behind us and raise an eyebrow. There’s not a single car on the road. “Seriously? If we were in an old western, there’d be buzzards circling in anticipation of their next meal. I don’t want his death on my conscience.”