Dune Drive

by Mariah Stewart

  Chrissie paused at the doorway, wondering if Ruby had sensed some threat that she’d since dismissed. A chill ran up her spine. She was never completely certain how to interpret some of Ruby’s pronouncements.

  “You sure everything’s okay?” she asked.

  “I just said so, didn’t I?” To Jared, Ruby said, “You drive right careful now, hear?” before closing the door.

  “Guess I got my orders.” Jared lifted Chrissie’s suitcase with one hand and carried it to the car. He put hers into the trunk next to his, and both fit easily. “You can put your dress bag in the back,” he told Chrissie.

  “This is one fancy ride.” She opened the rear passenger door and laid her bag across the backseat over his. “Is this yours?”

  “No. I left my car in South Carolina. I rented this one.” He flashed a happy smile. “I thought we should travel in something a little more upscale than my beat-up old Jeep.”

  “It’s beautiful.” She was tempted to run her hand over the metallic silver paint of the Jaguar sedan.

  “Yeah, she’s a pretty thing. If I didn’t live like a vagabond, I’d want to own something like this.” He stepped up behind her, then reached around and opened the front passenger door. “Ready?”

  She nodded and slid into the light gray leather seat.

  Here we go. God, I hope this isn’t a mistake.

  Jared got behind the wheel and started the engine, which to Chrissie sounded more like a purr. He eased out of the parking lot and onto the road leading to the bridge. Chrissie turned in her seat and watched the store and the island disappear behind them.

  “You worried about her?” Jared asked.

  “Not really. I know Owen and Lis are going to keep an eye on her.”

  “But . . .”

  “But she is going on one hundred and one. Her birthday’s in another month.”

  “Planning a party?” he asked.

  “I was thinking about talking to the others about that. Lis and Alec and Owen and Cass. I’m not sure who to invite.”

  “Other than everyone on the island and half the residents of St. Dennis, who else is there?”

  Laughing, because he was right, everyone who knew Ruby would expect to be invited, Chrissie said, “We do have other relatives. I just don’t know where most of them are.”

  “Well, you know where your mom is, right? And your dad?”

  “I know my mother’s still outside of Pittsburgh. My dad?” She blew out a long breath. “I’ve never known where he is. Actually, I’ve never known him. He left my mom and me before I was one, so . . .” She shrugged.

  “Only child?”

  “I have a brother. At least, I’m assuming I still have a brother.” She told him the entire story—no reason not to, and there was no way to pretty it up. Her father had abandoned them, and she’d never known why.

  “I’m trying to think of something to say,” he told her, “but I’m at a loss. Except that I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to have a parent leave. I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t had my sister.”

  “You were lucky. This isn’t something I normally talk about because I’ve never understood why he left and why he stayed away, and why he took Luke but not me, and if I do tell someone, they have the same reaction you just did. No words.” She looked out the window. “Lots of questions, no explanations.”

  “What does your mother say?”

  “Pretty much that it’s none of my business.”

  “Of course it’s your business. We’re talking about your father.”

  “I agree. But tell my mother that.”

  “I think I would, if I ever had the chance.”

  Chrissie was pretty sure he’d do just that.

  “Didn’t you ever ‘truth zone’ your mom?”

  “What would be the point? She isn’t bound by rules of any kind.”

  “I’m sorry. That really stinks for you.”

  “Thank you.” She didn’t mean it to sound as formal as she said it. She really was thankful that he seemed to understand.

  They drove in silence for a few minutes, then Jared pointed to the radio.

  “Want to find some music? I think we have satellite but I’m not sure.”

  “Okay.” She turned on the radio and searched for a station. Hearing Patsy Cline’s voice, she said, “Oh, the forties! I love forties music!” She turned it up. “Ruby has an old radio on the counter in the kitchen, one of those plastic-case ones. Lis said when Alec built the downstairs apartment for her, he offered to buy Ruby a new radio, but she threw a hissy fit.” Chrissie grinned. “I can just imagine. She loves that old thing.”

  “The thought of Ruby throwing a hissy fit is sobering. Almost frightening.”

  “It is. Her radio’s set to a station that only plays music from the forties. I’ve heard all the songs so many times, I know almost every one from that era by heart.”

  “How ’bout this one?” He pointed to the radio to indicate the song that was playing.

  She began to sing along with Patsy. “ ‘I go out walking after midnight . . .’ ” and sang right through to the end.

  “Impressive. And you have a good voice. We’ll get you out on karaoke night yet.”

  “Not on your life. I don’t sing for crowds.” Actually, she was surprised she’d sung for him. It had happened before she’d had time to think about it.

  “How ’bout this song? Title and artist?”

  She listened for a moment. “Please. Bing Crosby. ‘I’ll Be Seeing You.’ It’s one of Gigi’s favorites. I always thought it reminded her of her Harold somehow.”

  “Her Harold?”

  “Her husband. My great-grandfather. I don’t remember him—he might have been gone by the time I was born, I don’t know. But I’ve never heard him referred to as anything but Ruby’s Harold. Even my mom called him that.”

  They picked up Route 301 at Wye Mills and continued north.

  “This song?” he asked.

  “That, sir, is ‘Marie Elena.’ Jimmy Dorsey. I remember this one especially because when I was little, one of my first friends was named Marie Elena. Her father used to sing this song.”

  “You really are good,” he conceded.

  “Not so familiar with popular singers these days, but damn, I do know my forties crooners.” She settled back into the seat, much more relaxed than she had been when they’d started out. The music had taken her mind off herself and gave her something else to focus on. “How ’bout you? What’s your favorite style?”

  Jared smiled and turned the dial on the radio, obviously searching for something.

  “Ha. Here we go.” He turned up the volume. “Now, that’s music.”

  He started singing along to “I Walk the Line.”

  Chrissie rolled her eyes. “That’s Johnny Cash. Everyone knows that.”

  “Oh really? How ’bout this one?”

  Jared began to sing something she’d never heard before. His voice wasn’t all that good, but he seemed to give it his all.

  “I can tell by that blank stare of yours that you don’t recognize the great country classic ‘Walking the Floor over You.’ ”

  “And you’re correct. I don’t know that song.”

  “The late, great Earnest Tubbs sang that.” He turned the dial again. “Maybe you’d recognize some more contemporary country songs. Ah, this one.” He settled on a station and turned the volume up a little. He glanced over at her and sang a few lines, then asked, “Anything?”

  She shook her head. “Nope.”

  “Girl, that is Blake Shelton. Don’t you even watch The Voice?”

  Another shake of her head.

  “Do you live in a cultural vacuum?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Now, this is a great song. ‘I Lived It.’ Listen up.”

  She listened. “I hadn’t heard it before, but I admit I like that one.” She turned it back to the forties. “Another golden oldie. There you go. Perry Como. ‘Some Enchanted Eveni
ng.’ ”

  “I admit that’s a romantic sentiment, seeing a stranger across a crowded room and falling in love that fast. Never happens like that, not that I ever heard of. That’s not real life.” With a flick of his wrist, the country station was back on. “Now, this is Keith Urban. You ever heard of him?”

  She nodded. “He’s married to Nicole Kidman.”

  “Right. What I like best about country music is the stories the songs tell. This song that’s playing now, ‘Blue Ain’t Your Color’? It’s about a guy who walks into a bar and sees a woman sitting there alone, and he can tell that someone’s hurt her, maybe abused her. He tells her that the guy who didn’t treat her right wasn’t worthy of her, that she should never look that sad, that blue. There’s a line that says ‘It’s so black and white, he’s stealing your thunder.’ That’s just the way you feel when you’re in a relationship that sucks all the energy out of you, right? Know what I mean?”

  She bit her bottom lip and tried to hold in the tears and find her voice. She knew Jared kept looking at her, knew she was expected to say something, but she couldn’t.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Chrissie nodded, but she still couldn’t speak.

  Jared put on his right-turn signal and pulled into a parking lot outside of Centerville. He put the car in park and turned to her.

  “Chrissie?”

  “I’m okay. Really, I am. You didn’t have to stop.”

  “You were crying.” He reached over and wiped a tear away with his thumb. “You’re not okay. And I did have to stop. It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me why. We can just sit here until you feel better.”

  “It was that song . . .” She pointed to the radio, where Keith was still singing away. “It just made me think . . .” She couldn’t put it into words. She’d come so far since then that talking about it would make it real again.

  “Made you think about someone who wasn’t particularly nice to you?”

  She nodded.

  “Want to tell me?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to think about that time in my life at all. I want to have a great weekend and just forget that any of that ever really happened to me. That I ever let anyone treat me like that . . .”

  “Okay. I get it.” He rubbed her shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it. Ever. But you’re absolutely going to have a great time this weekend. I promise you.”

  He was so sincere she could have cried all over again. But she forced a smile. She found a tissue in her bag, blew her nose, and nodded. “I’m good. Really. It was just an unexpected flashback. Sorry. It won’t happen again. We can go now.”

  “Don’t apologize to me. And you can cry on my shoulder anytime, Chris.”

  “Thanks.” She gestured with her hand for him to start driving again.

  He put the car into drive and headed back onto the highway.

  He reset the radio for classic rock and left it there until they reached Delia’s house outside West Chester, Pennsylvania.

  • • •

  CHRISSIE THOUGHT SHE was dreaming when Jared stopped across the road from a matching pair of open tall black iron gates attached to even taller red-brick pillars covered in ivy. They’d passed several large homes set way back from the winding country roads, but they hadn’t seen anything like those fancy gates with their lion emblems.

  “Is this . . .” She pointed across the road.

  “Yeah. Delia’s place. It’s really something. Wait till you see.” He drove through the open gates and a moment later, the large house came into view.

  “Holy crap,” Chrissie heard herself say.

  “Like I said. It’s really something. Delia told me that’s all native fieldstone. You see a lot of old places in Chester County made from that stone.” Jared drove past the house and parked between a late-model SUV and a BMW sedan.

  “I see Zoey is here.” He pointed to the sedan on their right. “Ben, her husband, likes fast cars.”

  “Is he the one that raced?”

  Jared nodded. “Till he had an accident and had to stop. It just wasn’t safe for him anymore, but he never stopped loving it. He still goes to Europe for the races in Monte Carlo and France. His grandfather owns the shopping channel Zoey used to work for. Ben runs it now.”

  “Zoey works for her husband? That could be awkward.”

  “She quit when she had her third baby last year. Said one full-time job was all she could handle.” He turned off the car and asked, “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” She got out of the car at the same time as he did, not bothering to wait for him to open the door for her. She took a deep breath, pushed all her insecurities into a corner of her mind, and straightened her back.

  “Here, hold on.” Jared reached a hand to her and she took it. She didn’t feel she needed to hold on, but felt somehow he did. Why, she couldn’t begin to wonder, but she held on all the same.

  Chrissie tugged on Jared’s hand to get his attention. “Wait. Let me just take it all in for a moment.”

  The property on which Delia’s house stood was as breathtaking as the house itself. A stone and clapboard carriage house was set off to one side, a well-cared-for barn on another.

  “For Delia’s horses,” Jared told her. “She rides, though not so much anymore. But she runs a camp for special-needs kids where they can come and ride. There’s an indoor ring in the barn.”

  Chrissie looked out into the vast pasture behind the barn where several horses grazed. “How many horses does she have?”

  “I don’t know. A few years ago she started rescuing horses, but I have no idea how many. Dad said she’s always bringing new ones home, the way some people do lost or unwanted dogs or cats.”

  “I’ve heard of rescue dogs and rescue cats, but I never heard of anyone who rescued horses.”

  “And now you have. It’s the same idea. Someone has a horse they can’t keep or don’t want for whatever reason—change in circumstances, they think the horse is too old, they bought it for a kid who’s no longer interested—whatever. If Delia hears about it, nine times out of ten she’ll have it brought here. Dad said she’s planning another addition to the barn.”

  “Surely she doesn’t take care of them all.”

  “She has a hired crew.”

  He began to walk toward the house, so she fell in step with him.

  There were gardens in front of, next to, and behind the house.

  “She must like flowers,” Chrissie said.

  “She said all that digging in the dirt helps her to think. She claims her best plots come after she’s weeded for a few hours.”

  The front door opened and laughter spilled out across the gracious porch and the early evening.

  “Jared, is that you?” A dark-haired woman stood on the porch watching them approach, a squirming toddler in her arms.

  “It is. Is that my soon-to-be stepsister?”

  “Bite your tongue. You know Mom said there were to be no ‘steps.’ ”

  The woman put the toddler—a girl with a very high ponytail, her hair dark like her mother’s—down and the little girl ran into the driveway. Jared dropped Chrissie’s hand and went after her, catching up in three long strides. He lifted her off the ground and returned her, laughing, to her mother.

  “Thank you.” The woman kissed Jared on the cheek. “Introduce me to your friend, Jared.”

  “Chrissie Jenkins, meet Zoey Enright.” In a stage whisper he told her, “Zoey is the tall one. Her mini-me’s name is Daphne.”

  “Hello to both of you.” Chrissie smiled. She recognized Zoey from the days she’d spent watching shopping on TV those nights when Doug was out and she wanted the company of a human voice, though she doubted she’d ever admit that.

  “I was watching for Georgia. She’s not here yet and I was getting worried,” Zoey told them. “But you guys go on in and see the folks. Rachel got here about an hour ago. Sam’s coming later. He had some paper or another to finish. Apparently he
’s teaching the summer semester.”

  “It was nice meeting you,” Chrissie said to Zoey as Jared took her by the elbow and steered her to the oversized front door.

  “We’ll have lots of time to get acquainted over the next few days,” Zoey told her. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Me, too.”

  Jared ushered Chrissie into the front hall. There were voices coming from the right side of the house.

  “My guess is the sunroom,” Jared told her. “Delia’s favorite room. Her kids call it the hanging gardens. Besides horses and people, Delia collects plants. She had a bar installed for my dad, who enjoys a cocktail while watching the sun set. Which it does right out behind those low trees. We’ll go out and take a look later.”

  Chrissie’d never seen such a house, had certainly never been inside anything close to it. It had its fancy touches—she could see into the dining room, where a table was set for what looked like twenty people, a huge ornate crystal chandelier hanging over it—and there was lots of dark, highly polished wood—the floors, the wainscot. But there was also a feeling of hominess from the family photos on the walls and the child’s tricycle in the hall. A peek into the huge living room as they walked by revealed upholstered furniture all covered in pretty colors, florals and stripes, solids and plaids, all happy-looking pieces that gave the grand house a much lighter, more informal feel than it might have otherwise had.

  “This house is amazing,” she said as they moved through the hallway.

  “Delia’s done a lot with it. She put an addition on the back with an indoor pool—she swims every morning she’s here—and there’s an exercise room downstairs, just in case you’re wondering how she stays in such remarkable shape for a woman her age. She also had a second family room and a playroom built on to the other side of the house, off the kitchen, so her grandkids have a place to play and hang out.”

  They stepped from the foyer into the room where greenery ruled. Jared hadn’t exaggerated. There were plants everywhere. It stopped short of appearing junglelike.

  “There’s my boy.” A white-haired man in a linen jacket and pants put his drink down on the nearest table and held his arms open to Jared, who dropped Chrissie’s hand. “Glad you made it early, son.”