That Was Yesterday

by Vella Munn

  Trusted. The simple word framed Mara’s afternoon.

  When class ended, Reed hung around. Clint, despite needing to go to the airport to pick up his parents, stalled. He wanted to be sure Mara had her evening plans firmed. She should have already reserved a motel room. She shouldn’t leave things until the last minute. Finally Mara pushed Clint toward his car. “I can manage renting my own room,” she told her employee and friend.

  Mara shook her head in exasperation and then softened. “Say hi to your folks for me. Tell them Iowa gets too cold, and that warm winters are what the doctor ordered.”

  “I’ll try.” Clint reached out and patted Mara on top of her head. “Take care of yourself, boss.”

  Mara was still standing where he’d left her when Clint’s car started kicking up dust. Clint would wring her neck if she so much as hinted that a big, handsome, crazy, independent man like him missed his parents, but she understood that he did. It wasn’t easy for either of them not to have their families around.

  “He’s quite a kid.”

  Mara turned. Reed wore a cotton shirt with no T-shirt under it and faded jeans. The shirt, she suspected, had been chosen because comfort was important when a man spent a day folded into a sports car. The jeans were loose enough for comfort too, but close enough to define a man’s legs, a man’s body. You can trust him, the police captain had told her. She wasn’t sure but her questions had nothing to do with simple physical safety. “He is,” she responded softly to Reed. “It’s like having one of my brothers around. Are you ready to go to work?”

  “If you are.”

  “I am,” Reed said. He’d come here to learn a skill, he reminded himself. He was determined to make the most of the trust and money his employers invested in him. Beyond that, he’d committed himself to vindicating Jack. That, he repeated, was all he had the time and energy for.

  Unfortunately his teacher was a beautiful young woman, and he was having a devil of a time shaking himself free from that fact. He’d watched her closely today, just as he had last night when he was trying to talk her into buying a gun. Every step she took as she moved about her professional world spoke of a woman who belonged here. When she told him she had no intention of moving because she couldn’t afford to and was getting her locks changed, when she said she didn’t need more than that dog of hers, he’d found himself without enough arguments to try to change her mind. It was her life. He had no right intruding on it. He could just worry and care. It was a delicate balance.

  “I’ve been thinking about your needs,” Mara said. “The kinds of situations you might come up against. Speed is going to be a major issue, isn’t it?”

  “It could be.” Reed led the way to the Jag. Mara’s weight barely registered on the asphalt, and yet he sensed her every step. Despite himself, he couldn’t shake the image of her beauty and grace being slashed away by some animal who lived in alleys. An emotion which mirrored what he’d felt when he heard about Jack’s accident rocked through him.

  “There are limitations here,” Mara told her student an hour later as they quenched their thirst in her kitchen. He’d done well. He’d been able to handle every situation she’d presented him with. She’d sensed his tension, but he’d dealt with it and concentrated on what had to be done. She admired him for that. “If we could get out on a freeway, go through some city streets…”

  “Maybe tomorrow.”

  Mara nodded as if that piece of information was the most important thing she’d heard today. She’d been unbelievably aware of his presence, his whatever-it-was he possessed, while they were in the same confined space. But, she told herself, she couldn’t possibly be as aware of him now as she’d been when they were deep in concentration.

  She was wrong. Reed was asking her something. He was lifting his damp shirt from his chest to fan himself and expecting an answer. If she touched him, she would feel the heat of summer, and life. “I’m sorry,” she stammered, fighting the thought. “What did you say?”

  “That I’d like to take you somewhere for dinner. A thank-you for the overtime.”

  Lobo needed to be fed and his water changed. Mara felt clammy and needed almost desperately to get out of her hot jeans. And she still had to find a place to spend the night. Most of all she needed distance from the impact Reed had on her. She struggled with her feelings. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Have to wasn’t part of the question. Unless you don’t feel comfortable.”

  Could he read her mind? “That isn’t it.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No. Reed, I called that captain today.”

  He nodded. “I wondered if you would.”

  “I understand more now.”

  “Do you?” Reed asked. “Bistron knows what I’m doing. But the why— Look, why don’t I tend to your dog while you finish up. Any place you pick is fine, as long as it’s air-conditioned.”

  Mara had no idea which restaurant she would suggest. That didn’t matter. What did matter was accepting that Reed wasn’t rushing to end their time together, and she was following his lead. “You’d better let me take care of Lobo” was all she said.

  When they got into the Jag, Reed hit the Seek button on the stereo and wrapped his fingers over the floor shift. Mara looked behind her, watching her mobile home shrinking, drawing away. She’d debated insisting that they take her car but she’d found sitting in his car was something she needed to do if she was going to stop feeling so trapped and helpless. The Jag hummed, a quiet backdrop for the music surrounding them. After a minute Mara leaned back and let go of other emotions, feeling somehow younger and more free at the same time.

  Over the past few days she’d forgotten what freedom felt like. With a powerful engine under her and this uneasy, challenging presence beside her, Mara didn’t have to think about fear or the end of the week when she wouldn’t see Reed again. There was only movement.

  And Reed Steward.

  Still, she wasn’t entirely comfortable sitting next to him. She was too aware of him for that. And although there was no making sense of the emotion, Mara needed the awareness.

  “Does it feel good to have the day behind you?”

  Mara concentrated on the question, or rather on the voice asking the question. “Does it show?”

  “Yes. Are you relaxing?”

  Relaxation was not what she was experiencing. “Sometimes life has a way of piling up,” she offered.

  “Yeah. It does.”

  “But music…” Mara closed her eyes. “Music and motion. When I’m in a car, I feel cut off from everything else. As if I’m somehow getting back to basics.”

  “Basics?”

  “Myself,” Mara tried. “Maybe I’m getting back to myself. I love to drive. That’s what I was doing that night. Convincing myself I needed to go to the store. There was this energy in me, and I thought going for a drive might be a way of dealing with it.”

  “It’s good you’re able to talk about that. Maybe it will help make things easier for you.”

  “Maybe,” Mara whispered, glad he wanted that for her. “I hope so. I want back my routine. Boring, comfortable routine.”

  “I hardly see your life as boring. Anyone with that kind of energy in her…”

  Mara glanced over, acknowledged his easy smile and gave him one in return. “You haven’t seen energy until you’ve watched my father and brothers drive.”

  For a moment Reed was quiet. Then he said, “What is it they say about certain cars? That they’re an extension of a man’s masculinity.”

  “Is that what this car is? An extension of your masculinity?”

  “It isn’t mine. The bureau leased it. Still, when I’m in it, I sense power. It’s as if no one can touch me as long as I’m here.”

  Mara was unnerved to hear Reed speak openly about something that dovetailed so well with her own feelings, yet there was something about where they were and what they were doing that made the words right. They had the windows down. Air that smelled
of everything and nothing whipped around her. “I wonder why we think of cars in masculine terms? The power, I suppose. But speed touches certain nerves in me, too. I think women need that as much as men do.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “You haven’t? Your mother never—”

  “My mother isn’t one for sharing her thoughts, Mara. I’m not sure she has much understanding of them, herself.”

  Mara’s heart contracted in concern. He sounded hurt and confused. It was only by running her fingers along the Jag’s leather upholstery that she was able to keep her hands off Reed. He wasn’t a child; she couldn’t pat him on the shoulder and undo the past. “You really believe that?”

  “I do.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Reed said with his eyes on the road and his mind now on nothing except her presence next to him. He regretted that their commitments would interfere with getting to know each other. If he were completely free to do such things, he’d find a deserted freeway, punch down on the gas, turn up the sound on the stereo and let the Jag absorb them both.

  Maybe sound and speed would wash away the world.

  He wanted to touch her. To learn what she felt like in his arms, to risk letting her reach more of him than she already had. He wanted to taste her and somehow reach inside her, until there was nothing she kept from him. They were already reaching out; he could feel it happening.

  But he didn’t know enough about how that was done. And for what purpose? He’d already committed himself to accomplishing something that would take all his time, all his energy. Something only he could and should be doing. So he would buy Mara Curtis dinner, then he’d go back to the hotel he needed to be seen in.

  He wouldn’t do anything crazy like tell her why he didn’t want to talk about his mother, or risk letting her get close enough to ask.

  Mara suggested a family-owned restaurant known for its salads. She’d only been there once, she told Reed, but Clint was more than a little interested in one of the waitresses there and praised it highly. The cool, clean restaurant was busy, but the tables were set far apart. Reed felt removed from everyone except Mara. They ordered, and then Mara leaned back, the gesture incredibly graceful. She looked somehow both wary and peaceful. Reed didn’t know what to do with her silence. For too long he didn’t know how to end it. Finally he said, “You haven’t heard from the police today? There’s nothing new?”

  “Not that I know of.” Mara sipped on her water. She touched her tongue to her top lip, trapping a bead of moisture. The gesture slammed into Reed.

  “Good.” No. That wasn’t enough. Reed wanted Mara to have a lifetime filled with such simple pleasures as cool water flavored by a slice of lemon. He couldn’t promise her that. No one could. But there was something he could give her. “I mentioned a gun.”

  “I know.” Mara blinked. Her mouth parted. Reed gripped his glass to keep his fingers off those soft lips.

  “For protection,” Reed went on. “I came to you because increasing my driving skills is my insurance policy. I think you need the same kind of thing.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “Mara.” Reed leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’m suggesting you buy one and get a permit. There are a couple of handguns I can recommend you look at. Then we can work on making you feel comfortable with it.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t look at him. “Yes.”

  What was she trying to say? The possibilities scared him. “Has he tried to get in touch with you?”

  Mara blinked. She leaned forward, then back again, becoming somehow smaller and more fragile. “Do you think I’d be this calm if he had?” Even her question sounded fragile. “Detective Kline said it’s rare for someone like that to come after one of their victims. There’s always—how did he put it—new challenges out there.”

  “Kline’s telling you to forget it happened?”

  “No.” She drew out the word. “Of course not. But I will not put my life on hold, waiting for something that isn’t going to happen. That’s not my way.”

  “Maybe.” Her fingers were in constant motion, testing the tablecloth, tracing the edge of the table. He wanted to still the movement, wanted to close his own fingers over hers. “I’m glad you’re staying with Clint.”

  Mara stared at him, unblinking. “I won’t be anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  Reed thought he detected a slight stiffening to her body, a certain vulnerability in her eyes, but when she spoke there was no hint of that emotion. “Clint has his own life to live,” she told him. “I can’t go on imposing.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Mara fell silent as the waitress brought walnut-topped Waldorf salads. She speared an apple slice and stared at it. “I’ll be staying at a motel. But not for long. Just—”

  “Have you talked to your family about this?”

  “That’s a little hard to do, isn’t it? They’re out of the country. Reed, my family’s crazy. But no matter what else they are, they aren’t cowards. They expect the same strength from me… I expect it of myself.” She sighed and reached for the salt shaker, fingering it. “Now that my locks have been changed— I’ll be getting my car back soon. Maybe they found fingerprints. Maybe they’ll be able to pick him up.”

  “If his prints are on record.”

  After a moment Mara nodded. “If his prints are on record.”

  Reed concentrated on eating, not tasting, just eating. He was relieved when Mara followed suit. She had erected a barricade between them. Its strength mocked him, forcing him to face his ineptness. He recognized the emotional distance between them; he just had no idea how to deal with it. When her silence became more than he could handle, Reed floundered around, finally finding a way to make her speak. Where was her family these days? he asked. What kind of cars were they racing now? How had Mark Curtis become a professional driver?

  Mara spoke of a man in love with speed, a woman who shared that love and two sons who’d been born with that same passion flowing through them. “My brothers have some not-too-flattering things to say about why I’m not following in their footsteps. I tell them I’m the one who’s using her brains. Starting a business wasn’t easy, but I love what I’m doing.”

  “You’re fortunate,” Reed said. He didn’t care what she was saying, just that emotion and life were back in her voice. “Not everyone gets to do something they enjoy.”

  “Do you? Do you like what you’re doing?”

  “It’s what I do best.”

  “And that’s why you’re doing this—because you’re good at it?”

  Mara was right. It wasn’t enough of an explanation. “I’m talking about commitment. Maybe that’s what it all boils down to.”

  “You protect the interest of insurance companies because it’s something you believe needs doing?”

  “Not the companies, Mara. I’m talking about people with problems they can’t handle on their own.”

  “And, no matter what the risk, you’re going to stick with it. Why?”

  Why? It was an incredibly hard question, but Reed needed to try to answer. “My father was career military,” he started. “I didn’t understand what he did, only that a lot of it was classified. His job was and still is his life. I think I have some of that in me.”

  “His job is his life?”

  “Maybe that’s an unfortunate choice of words.”

  “And maybe it’s being honest.”

  “Yeah,” Reed whispered. “Maybe it is.” He focused on Mara’s hands, now engaged in erasing moisture from the outside of her water glass. How could he be anything but honest around a woman with hands like that? “His choice of careers was hard on my mother.”

  “In what way?”

  Another hard question, one he wouldn’t be backed into. “A lot of reasons. The moving around.”

  “She had you.”

  “Did she?” Reed asked. This wasn’t what he wanted to talk about. If he was
going to change the subject, he would have to stop meeting Mara’s eyes, stop thinking about her hands. But not yet. “My mother has emotional problems.” Reed put down his fork and then picked it up again. “I’m sure the psychiatrists she’s seen have done some good, but—”

  “I’m sorry.” Mara’s voice was a soft promise of gentle understanding. “It must have been hard on you.”

  “It was what I knew.”

  Mara pushed away her bowl, then went back to holding on to her glass. She blinked; still, Reed saw the moisture in her eyes. “We can’t choose our circumstances when we’re children, can we?” she said. “It’s only when we grow up that we take charge of our lives. Or at least try to. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “No. I was an only child.”

  “Maybe it was better that way.”

  “Maybe.”

  Did he have any idea how much of himself he was giving away? Mara wondered. An only child raised by a father who wasn’t there for his wife or son, and a mother so locked up in herself that there wasn’t enough of her to give to her child. Mara wanted to gift Reed with something he’d never had. To be the one to fill the holes in his life. “I was thinking,” she said around her need. “So much of what we are is conditioned by our upbringing.”

  “You probably wouldn’t have your business if it wasn’t for what you learned from your parents.”

  He was right, but that wasn’t what she wanted this conversation to be about. “Have you talked to your parents? Let them know how you feel? I don’t know. Maybe family counseling…”

  “It’s a little late for that, Mara.”

  This was a man she’d once thought she never wanted to see again? “Maybe,” she said softly. “But if there’s unfinished business…”