Chance of a Lifetime

by Jodi Thomas

  Emily sat back and smiled. She was already thinking of how she’d tell Tannon all about the Friday night writers’ meeting. She had to fight to keep from taking notes. Martha Q might not be in attendance, but all the others were raring to go.

  Geraldine read the second chapter of her historical romance. The Southern belle had lost her major due to old battle wounds and she was now making love in one of the abandoned underground railroad hideouts. Her new lover was a spy, a Yankee in a tattered Confederate uniform, but the heroine didn’t notice until they were in the mindless bliss of mating. It seemed he dropped his accent about the same time she dropped her drawers.

  Everyone loved the chapter except Peter, who told her that there were so many legs and breasts flying around he thought he was at a Baptist fried chicken cook-off.

  The girl George Hatcher brought read a two-page scene about learning to walk with only two legs. Lily Anne said her real last name translated to something close to Star, but she had been forced by her earthly captors to go by the name of Lily Anne Loving.

  When she finished reading, no one said a word. Emily jumped in and claimed she couldn’t wait to hear more and everyone quickly agreed. Apparently, alien abductees were temperamental.

  The last to read was Zack. He reread the first chapter of his mystery, only he’d added in clues to the murder. The work was still disjointed and choppy, but he’d improved so much everyone gave him a round of applause. Even Rick acted as if he’d enjoyed the chapter, but since he was in the middle of his own mystery, he didn’t seem to step into fiction too quickly.

  At nine o’clock, they all hurried out talking. Emily stepped in her office and pulled on her coat suddenly in a hurry to go home. It had been a long day.

  Pamela Sue was waiting at the door so they could walk out together. They were halfway to the cars when she said, “Oh, I almost forgot, the chairman of the town council called and told me to tell you that the library budget has been increased by five percent with a three percent raise for you.”

  “Really?”

  Pamela Sue shrugged. “They must have looked out the window and saw the crowd of cars parked in the lot tonight.” She veered off to her car. “See you next week. Good night.”

  Emily felt like dancing and squealing with joy, but she simply smiled and said, “Yes, it is a very good night.”

  Thirty minutes later, she was wrapped in her robe with a bowl of soup when the phone rang. Within minutes, she’d told Tannon all about her night. All the writers and what they read and then the best news about the council giving her a raise.

  Finally, she realized he was being very quiet.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing the doctor didn’t expect. There’s no change with Mom and that is not good.” He let out a long breath as though the tiredness inside of him would take much longer than a night to heal. “On a good day I’m not much in the way of company and this hasn’t been a good day.”

  “I’m sorry I rattled on and on about the group and the library.”

  “No. I enjoyed it. It felt good to have someone talk to me about something besides vital signs. I only wish I could have been there to take you out tonight. This hospital makes the day seem endless. I think they pipe something in the air that makes you feel tired from the moment you walk in the place.”

  “You want me to come tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

  “I’ll be there before noon.” She had an idea of just how much it cost him to admit he needed someone. “I’ll try to get someone to cover my Saturday hours.”

  “Pack a bag, Emily, would you? I’ll get you a room if you can stay until Sunday. It would be great to have someone to talk to for a change.”

  “All right. I’ll come.”

  “Thanks,” he said, “and one more thing, I wish like hell I’d kissed you this morning.”

  Emily was silent for a few heartbeats, then she answered, “I wish you had too.” There was nothing more to say, and she hung up the phone.

  Chapter 27

  BUFFALO BAR AND GRILL

  HARLEY HAD ALREADY TURNED OFF THE BAR LIGHTS BY the time Beau finished loading up his equipment. The place had been packed tonight. Even Ronny and a few of her friends from the breakfast club came. Beau liked seeing what he called his new daytime friends and he liked seeing Ronny laugh. She was a nice woman who didn’t seem to get in her share of laughter.

  Border reminded him that she had loved once, even if it was for a short time, but Beau wasn’t sure he believed his partner. What kind of man would leave a woman like her? She was nice-looking in the take-home-to-Mom kind of way. Ronny could cook and said she made all A’s in college classes, and best of all, she was kind. People who are truly kind are rare.

  The guy who left her must have been a real bum.

  Maybe it was that kindness that made her invite Border to join the others for pizza when closing time rolled around. She’d also invited Beau, but he said no. At the time, he was too interested in why pretty women like Ronny and Reagan Truman always tried to feed Border Biggs.

  Beau was still smiling as he walked out of the bar, thinking of how Border tried to convince him once that because Border shaved his head, women always figured he was cold and hungry. Since they couldn’t do anything about his hair, they fed him.

  Halfway to his car Beau noticed the red Ford convertible parked in the shadows. It looked like something out of the past come to call. Beau didn’t care. If the girl and her car were simply ghosts, he was still going for the ride.

  This time he dropped his guitar in the backseat of the Mustang and climbed in the passenger’s side. “Drive,” he said as he leaned back and pulled his hat low.

  She did what he knew she would and pulled away from the bar and headed for moonlight.

  His body relaxed into the seat as she turned the radio to a country music station. Beau decided he’d died and gone to heaven. No Pearly Gates, no streets of gold, just one angel beside him and “Thunder Road” flowing through the wind.

  After a half hour, she stopped the car in the center of a back road. “Want to drive?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Want to move closer and keep me warm while I drive?”

  He slid closer and put his arm around her shoulders. As he leaned his head against her hair, he whispered, “You smell great.”

  She laughed. “You smell like smoke and barbecue and beer.”

  He kissed the side of her throat. “Drive,” he whispered against her ear as he slid his hand inside her coat. “I’ll keep you warm.”

  She kept both hands on the wheel as he moved his cold fingers over her petite body. Through the layers of clothes, he dreamed of how she’d feel without anything on. She was slim but definitely more woman than girl. Smiling to himself, Beau realized that if he removed anything she had on, all she’d feel was cold, so he settled back enjoying the night and the nearness of passion just beyond his reach.

  All the town seemed asleep when she finally pulled back into the parking lot of Buffalo’s. Without a word, he kissed her on the cheek and climbed out of the car.

  He turned to her after lifting his guitar out of the back. She smiled at him, pulled the ribbon from her ponytail, and handed it to him.

  She was gone before he could think of anything to say. He decided she was his drug and tonight she’d given him all he really needed to keep going. She wasn’t like any girl he’d ever met. She didn’t want to talk and she didn’t mind where his hands roamed. All she offered was company and a ride in the wind.

  Once he was alone in the duplex, he wrapped the ribbon around the neck of his guitar and began to play. She was his walk on the wild side, his inspiration for dreams.

  No one passed the house except Ronny’s mom, spying on a daughter she’d disowned. Beau tipped his hat at Dallas Logan and smiled when she gunned her car and drove away. He thought about this little duplex tucked away between businesses and storage buildings. It seemed a pl
ace for those without a home. Ronny, Border and he weren’t runaways; they were more like tossed-aways, like old furniture put on the street next to the trash.

  Beau felt his mood dance on his fingers over the strings. The people he lived with had little-used hearts waiting for a chance at love. Waiting for a chance to live and matter to someone. They had homeless hearts.

  Chapter 28

  SATURDAY AFTERNOON

  BLUE MOON DINER

  THE AFTERNOON SUN AGAINST THE FRONT WINDOWS warmed them as they sat in the deserted diner eating lunch. Rick had complained of being hungry since noon, but Trace wanted to miss the crowds. She’d had enough of them Thursday night at the bar. He’d teased her about wanting him all to herself, but the fewer people around, the safer he was.

  “Now tell me one more time why that old couple, the Peterses, want a divorce?” Trace asked as she tried to hold the biggest hamburger she’d ever ordered in her hands.

  Rick laughed. “First, you’ve got to realize there are two reasons why people want divorces. There’s the one they tell everyone, and then there’s the real one. As far as divorces go, it’s rarely what it seems.”

  Trace put down her hamburger. “And you know this, O wise one, how?”

  “Observation. As a lawyer, I’ve trained myself to study people until I can read what they are not saying as well as analyze what they say.”

  “You are so full of it, Matheson.”

  “Do you want to hear the real reason or not?”

  “All right. Why is a couple married over forty years divorcing?”

  He winked at her. “He says it’s because she spends all their money on the grandkids and she says it’s because he never wants to go anywhere, but in truth, the real reason is the opposite reason as to why they got married.”

  Trace frowned and took a bite of her hamburger.

  “Stay with me on this, Marshal. They married because he wanted sex and she wouldn’t without the ring. Now they’re divorcing because she wants it and he doesn’t, and apparently he thinks he’s paid enough for the services he got in bed.”

  “You’re nuts.”

  “No, it’s the truth, I swear. Men from twenty on are rushing downhill. Women, on the other hand, are moving up. If couples are very lucky, they meet with equal drives somewhere close to thirty. You might want to note that, since the matching age for you and me seems to be about where we are right now.” He used his napkin to wipe mustard off the corner of her mouth.

  Trace swatted him away. “So, Matheson, is this some pathetic way of telling me that I should sleep with you before your shelf-life is expired?”

  “Something like that.” He smiled until his dimple showed. “Is it working?”

  “No. But I have wondered what that hot body of yours looks like when it’s not bandaged. Of course, at the rate you’re going, I may never find out.”

  “The way I see it is whoever wanted me dead is long gone or given up. The dart stabbing was just misfortune. Some drunk probably realized what he did and disappeared.” He shrugged. “Though I like the attention, I’m not worth a federal marshal following me, and I’ve probably caused enough excitement around town. This is one of those things that will die down fast and become another one of George Hatcher’s ghost stories to entertain tourists.”

  “You get tourists here?” Trace wasn’t buying into his theory.

  “Well, no. We mostly get visiting relatives of residents. The closest we ever get to having a tourist season is when there’s a big funeral and out-of-town relatives fill the hotels for a few days.”

  Trace played with one of her French fries. “You make this town sound really boring.”

  “Not at all. Harmony’s a great place. We just keep it a secret from outsiders. I’d tell you all about the wonders of Harmony, but then I’d have to marry you to keep you here. I’d have to have sex with you until I gave out and you divorced me so you could find someone younger.” He leaned close and whispered, “You going to eat the rest of that hamburger?”

  “I’m saving myself for pie.” She watched him steal her food. “So what is the reason our white-haired couple said they are getting a divorce again? Surely the grandkids can’t be splitting them up.”

  “I shouldn’t be telling you anything.”

  “It’s part of an investigation.” She bribed him by moving her plate to the middle of the table so he could share her fries. “Besides, you already said they were just talking to you. No case, right?”

  “Not so far. Right now they both seem happy to pay me a hundred and fifty just to referee.” Rick took the bribe and pulled her plate toward him. “He claims he’s wasted years living with her controlling ways. If he answers the phone, she has to know who it is. If he draws out ten dollars in cash, she has to have an accounting of what he spends it on. He claims if he flushes twice, she’s knocking on the bathroom door wanting to know what’s wrong.”

  “Why does she hate him?”

  Rick finished chewing and finally answered. “She said he keeps calling her by the wrong name and she’s had enough. Her name is Minnie and he’s called her Wanda since they married. He claims it fits her.”

  “So they are getting a divorce over that?”

  “No.” Rick reached toward Trace’s drink and she slapped his hand. He sat back, defeated. They hadn’t seen the waitress since she brought the food. Refills were too much bother with only two customers in the place. “I told them what it cost. They both agreed it was too much money.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Nothing. They just stood up, thanked me. He took her hand and said, ‘Come on, Wanda, let’s go home.’ When they were in the hall, I heard her tell him to stop by the Dollar Store so she could bring the kids back a surprise from town.”

  Trace couldn’t keep a straight face. She laughed, a giggle at first and then a full, all-out body-shaking laugh.

  Rick smiled, obviously loving watching her relax.

  She was still laughing when Rick heard a car engine. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something blue racing toward them.

  On instinct, he moved to block. One arm flew across the table and circled Trace’s waist as he ran away from the window.

  They were almost to the counter when a car hit the six-inch concrete block in the handicapped parking spot and was airborne when it slammed into the window and across the table where they’d been eating.

  Rick just watched wood splinter, but Trace pulled her weapon from her boot and ran toward the driver’s side of the car. Before the dirt and smoke cleared, she was pulling on the door and yelling orders.

  Rick leaned against the counter, watching and trying to make sense of a car parked inside the diner.

  The now-familiar roar of the fire alarm sounded from a few blocks away. People outside were running toward them. Cass stormed from the kitchen, cussing.

  Rick watched it all as if it were the remains of a stunt in a movie. This time his heart wasn’t racing. This time he didn’t feel terrified that he was almost killed.

  He closed his eyes. Was it possible that calamity had become the norm in his life?

  “The car’s empty!” Trace yelled as Alex and her deputies stormed through the door as if it hadn’t occurred to them to enter through the ten-foot hole in the wall.

  “Are you two all right?” Alex demanded.

  Trace nodded.

  Rick felt like he’d lost his script in this drama that had become his life. He just stared at the old blue Audi parked where his lunch had been a few minutes ago. Steam was coming from under the car’s hood, and glass still tinkled down from above where pieces of window clung to the molding.

  Alex stepped closer. “First, Rick, are you hurt again?”

  “No,” he said without looking at the sheriff. “I’m fine.”

  The deputy yelled that the accelerator had been tied down.

  Trace walked away from the wreck. She looked straight at Alex. “Forget the others. This was attempted murder, Sheriff.”


  Rick had a feeling there would be no more talk of accidents that he’d just been unlucky enough to fall into. He watched as Trace leaned down and slid her Glock into the side of her boot. Their table had become a crime scene, and if he hadn’t moved quickly, his body would now be beneath the rubble.

  Cass was still cussing, but no one was listening. Alex was on the phone, listing all the help she wanted. Deputies were roping off the area with tape.

  Rick waited. He wasn’t even sure for what. He just waited.

  Chapter 29

  NORTHWEST TEXAS HOSPITAL

  AMARILLO

  TANNON PACED THE WAITING ROOM OF ICU. HE’D ASKED himself a dozen times if this latest crisis with his mother had somehow driven him to push Emily into more than she wanted with him. Until a few weeks ago, he’d been happy just checking on his mother a couple times a month. As long as he knew she was all right, the world seemed in balance no matter what was happening at work or with his ever-demanding mother.

  He wasn’t sure why he’d asked her the favor of checking on his mother, but somehow that first visit had changed everything. He’d had a lifetime habit of closing himself off from people. She’d been the only one he’d really ever let in, and when she disappeared from his life, he’d nailed the door shut. He had friends he played cards with. Business colleagues. But no one he let close. No one he was completely honest with.

  Every time the waiting room doors opened, Tannon glanced up, even knowing that it was too early for Emily to arrive. She’d probably have to call someone to cover for her at the library, maybe have to go in and open up like she did every morning. He tried to remember Emily’s exact words: I’ll be there before noon.

  After the ten o’clock visit to his mother’s side, Tannon calmed. Emily would be with him before the next visit. She’d spent yesterday measuring out the day two hours at a time. He could wait. He almost laughed aloud. Everyone who worked for him, from the truck drivers to his staff, would be shocked if they knew how much he needed the little librarian. He was a man who needed nothing.