“Why don’t you race, Dean?” Marti asked once everyone was settled.
“I do.”
She waited for him to explain why he wasn’t out there, but he seemed content with his answer.
“So-o-o, why aren’t you racing today then?”
“Oh, I don’t race cars. I race frogs. Big, warty ones. They don’t give you warts, you know.” He nodded knowingly. “It’s all a myth.”
Marti started laughing, but Dean obviously didn’t realize the depth of his humor. Or even that it was humor.
When Dean was involved in a conversation, of sorts, with Abbie, Marti leaned over to Caty and whispered, “So, did you ask him about the flowers?”
“Yes. He said he did it because she looked depressed the day before when he took his hounds in for their shots. I guess I don’t have any reason to get mad at him. I don’t own him or anything. Not that it matters, really.”
“But it does,” Marti finished and turned to Helen. “This is probably a pretty familiar place to you.”
“Oh, yes. I try to come whenever I can. Still, it’s hard sometimes.”
Marti grew silent for a moment, realizing that Helen lost her husband to this sport. “Was it here that Bernie died?”
“No, this track didn’t even exist then. He travelled all over the state. I couldn’t go with him, not with three kids to raise.”
Marti wanted to tell Helen that was Abbie’s plan, but she kept quiet about it. She wondered if Helen knew about the proposal. That probably depended on how seriously Jesse was considering it.
Then the other woman plaguing Marti these days showed up: Desiree. Wearing her standard boots, jeans, and tank top, she settled in two rows behind them. Marti bit her lip, trying not to let her presence bother her.
Caty leaned over. “Don’t worry. She always comes to cheer Jesse on, always has. Even when she’s seeing one of the other racers.”
“I’m not worried about it,” Marti said, almost too fast.
“But you are,” Caty quipped, turning to intently watch something in the pit and ignoring Marti’s glare.
When Jesse climbed in the car through the window, she realized that there wasn’t any outside hardware on his car or any other racecar. Door handles, hubcaps, and trim were all missing. The doors were welded shut. Even the headlights were gone. Some of the cars were like Jesse’s, shiny and nice looking, with only a few dents. Others looked like inner city victims, stripped for parts and left for dead. Except for the sponsor names, mostly body shops and mechanics. One had T&A Racing painted on it; another had Crash and Burn Racing, which fit the dented car well.
The menagerie of old cars assembled on the track, and before long the qualifying was underway. After a while, when her butt was half-numb from sitting, and her hearing half-gone from the announcer’s speaker above them, the first race began.
Jesse nearly went into one of those spins he had told her about, and she found herself clenching her fists. Paul’s gold car purposely bumped him in the third turn, and Jesse’s backend slipped before he got it under control.
He retaliated by passing him on the next lap. She spent most of the time tensed up watching the cars all clustered together on the turns. One car went into a spin, hitting another and sending it toward the wall. The man who did his flag dance in the box way up high jumped up and down with the yellow flag.
Could she be one of the wives vehemently cheering on their spouse or boyfriend, chasing the stray baby, attending every race? Or would she get bored, become a straying wife? If only she could be sure that things would be different with Jesse.
With Jamie, she had been swept away by his good looks, money, everything. Jesse was good looking in a different way, not glamorous, but strong, warm, and carefree. He hadn’t meant for her to fall in love with him; it had just happened. Thinking back, she realized it was inevitable.
That was Jesse, a cowboy, willing to do anything for the woman he allowed himself to love. Not that he loved her, she thought, startled by the direction of her daydreams. Leading her down the path of the broken hearted.
She couldn’t bear to see a betrayed look on his face, like the one that day when she was talking to Paul at the gas station. Her heart would shrivel up and wither if she caused Jesse real pain. And she would; it was inevitable as falling in love with him had been.
CHAPTER 15
The drone of the engines continued throughout the evening, and heat off the racetrack made Marti think about the day she had gone swimming in the cool river with Jesse. She was now more relaxed, more confident in his driving abilities. He was just finishing his feature race, and he’d be done for the night.
Only the very close calls made her tense and grimace. With Paul out of the race, after his car started making guttural noises, she relaxed even more. The first group of four cars raced around for the last lap, and Jesse roared beneath the checkered flag first. Their whole section, and a lot of other people, stood and cheered.
Bugs swarmed around them, dive-bombing the bright lights above. The smells of French fries and onion rings permeated the air.
“I’m going down to get a soda. Anyone want anything?” Marti asked, standing and stretching. Really she just wanted to walk around.
After getting everybody’s orders, she carefully walked down the steps to the concession stand near the entrance. Before the girl loaded six cups into a carryout container, Marti wolfed down a greasy, forbidden hot dog. Then she balanced the drinks with four more hot dogs for the others. When she turned around, she nearly dropped everything. Paul stood there, his face ashen, not a trace of his usual arrogance.
“Can I talk to you a minute?” he asked.
“We shouldn’t be talking at all.”
“Marti, I did not break into your house last week, nor did I attack you the first time. I wish to hell I knew who did. And if Jesse wants to keep investigating, fine, I hope he finds the guy. But it isn’t me. How can I get you to believe that?”
“I can’t talk to you,” she said, hurrying away with her load.
Helen wouldn’t have talked to him in the same situation, and Marti wouldn’t either. As she walked up the stairs, she realized she was doing that more often lately: asking whether Helen would do this or that in the same situation. Her own mother’s antics seemed like some long-ago movie now. California, beaches, Jamie—all a dream. She made a mental reminder to get some travel literature on California to remind her of her destination.
At the end of the day, the races ended amid cheers and drunken catcalls. One heavy woman ran down the stands to a middle-aged man wearing a holy T-shirt and a cap. When Marti expected her to run into his arms and congratulate him for coming in second, she smacked his shoulder.
“You idiot! What were you doing down there? My heart stopped! I made a fool out of myself!”
With all the racing done, they opened the gate to the pit area again. Marti headed down with the rest of Jesse’s cheering section to congratulate him. She had to admit that he didn’t look all that thrilled and realized he had probably won many, many times. She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, a gesture that raised Caty’s eyebrow. Well, Caty probably kissed Dean’s cheek when his warty frog won.
After the ruckus was over and the cars were all loaded up, Marti and Jesse walked out to his truck. She shivered in the cool evening air, after getting too much sun during the day. He walked behind her and rubbed her arms, giving her more goosebumps than warming her.
“I don’t think I could handle watching you race all the time. It’s too nerve wracking.”
He stopped, leaning down to look at her. “Are you thinking about staying?”
She realized what she’d said. “No, no. Just talking theoretically. I don’t know how those women do it, watching their men in dangerous situations all day every week.” She tried hard to look neutral. “How would these guys feel if their wives raced in the Lady Warriors?”
“I don’t know about the rest of ‘em, but I’d find the best da
mned car we could get and cheer you on louder than anyone else.”
He’s way too good for you. But from somewhere deep inside, a tiny voice asked, But can you live without him?
The following Saturday, Jesse was at the garage working on his car. Only with Bumpus’s protection and her promise to use the shotgun was she able to stay at the house alone. A small ad in the local newspaper gleaned three new decorating jobs. She had given two of Helen’s friends’ estimates, and one had called this morning telling her to get started. The idea was taking shape in her mind, a budget decorating service.
Bumpus, sprawled out beside her, rolled onto his side. He often stayed close, making her feel safe.
“Here, boy.”
He lurched up into a sitting position, looking at her expectantly.
He’d grown on her over these months. She’d never quite gotten used to the drool, but she wasn’t all that’s so gross about it anymore.
She patted her knees, and he jumped up and planted his paws on them. She leaned over and hugged him. He licked her cheek.
“Do you like me?”
He licked her again, and she didn’t jerk back or even grimace. Much.
“You do, don’t you? And I’m not the one who feeds you or anything. You like me because I’m…me.”
His tail wagged, and he gave her an adoring look.
Jesse was right. Having a creature love you just as you were was special. Accepting love was, too.
“You always liked me, even when I didn’t much like you. I hope you sensed something good in me. Because I’m beginning to feel like there is something good in me.” She rubbed his head and kissed the top of his nose where it wasn’t wet.
Over the “Phantom of the Opera” music that poured through the rooms, she heard the front door close. Bumpus tore out of the room, barking. She grabbed the shotgun, trying to remember all the things Jesse had taught her, and walked into the living room.
She saw his truck parked outside and heard the bedroom door close. A few seconds later, the shower kicked on. She went back to her sewing machine but found her concentration lost now.
She looked into the mirror opposite her, tilting her head. The brown hair did suit her better. This was who she was now, not Marti, not Hallie either. Thank God. She was somebody new and surprisingly strong.
Whenever the Phantom hit a low note, the baby kicked. She put her hand where his foot had been, wondering how big he was. Would he look like Jesse, or more like Marti?
“What is going on around here?”
Jesse’s voice jerked her out of her thoughts. His hair was wet, and he was wearing nothing but a dark blue towel wrapped around his waist.
“What do you mean?”
“This… music blaring again. It’s awful.”
“Well, now you know how I feel about your country music. And anyway, your son sure likes it. He’s been kicking up a storm.”
Jesse sat down on the bed beside her after moving the sewing cart aside. “He’s protesting.” He put his hand over her belly, and when the bass sounded again, the baby kicked. “He’s going to make a great dancer.”
“You’re thinking of the two step, maybe?”
“Well, you can’t dance to this stuff. Can you?”
Jesse got up and tried to fit country dancing to “Masquerade.” Giving up on that, he acted out the trill voices in a parody of the opera. Marti busted out laughing, making the baby kick more. Jesse stopped and looked at her. They stayed that way for a long minute, she swallowing hard beneath his gaze. He held his hand out and she took it, wondering if he was going to ask her to dance. Instead, he turned her around to face the mirror. The glow from her laughter still showed on her face, and she smiled at his reflection.
His intense green eyes looked at her in the mirror. “You are so beautiful.”
Her heart tightened, and her face flushed. “Jesse, I’m not.” You’re the beautiful one.
His voice was velvety smooth. “Yes, you are.”
She looked at her reflection. She was amazed to see something she had probably never seen on her face before: contentment. The thought scared her, and she turned away.
“Jesse…” she started again, but he leaned down and held her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.
“Why are you so blasted sure you can’t be happy here?”
She wasn’t going to tell him what he wanted to hear, because then he’d know how much she’d fallen in love with him. He only wanted her to stay for practical reasons, not reasons of the heart.
She left him standing in the bedroom and walked as fast as she could to get away from him, from his words. She stood in the living room, fighting the tears and feelings that threatened to flood her. Her stomach tumbled, but she told herself it was only the baby moving. The baby he wanted a mother for. That was the only reason he wanted her to stay.
But he can have a mother for his child. Abbie is more than willing. He wants you, fool. Can’t you see that?
“No,” she answered aloud, startling herself with the voracity of her words. He didn’t want her. He’d never said that, never. She couldn’t stay.
Why not?
“Because I want to go back home, to California.”
Home is here.
She put her hands over her ears, as if that would stifle the inner voice that had taken Jesse’s side. But it was his voice she heard, right behind her.
“What would be the worst thing that could happen if you stayed? Would you at least tell me that?”
“It’s not an option,” she said through tightened lips. “You promised you wouldn’t try to talk me into staying.”
“I’m just asking a question. Answer, and I won’t bring it up again.” He moved to encircle her in his arms. “Tell me you’d be miserable here, that you don’t feel a thing for that baby inside you. Tell me that you honestly believe you’ll be happier alone in California than here. Tell me,” he asked softly, looking directly into her eyes. “And I’ll believe you.”
She dropped her head, because she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I—I’d be happier in Califor—” The sobs tore through her, and she pushed him away.
He pulled her close again. “You can’t even say it, can you?”
Holding her face again, he rubbed away her tears with his fingers. Then he leaned close to kiss her, and the passion he kept under control broke through as he claimed her mouth with ferocity. The world spun around her as she was swept into a whirlpool of emotions. At the end, her barest self was left, only needing him and what he offered at that moment.
He kissed her endlessly, his fingers entwined in her hair. She held onto him, clutched his shoulders, afraid to let go lest she drown. His hands trailed beneath her shirt, over her belly to her breasts. He caressed gently, though she knew he had the power inside him to crush her. She wanted him to crush her.
Beneath his towel, she could feel his erection pressing against her, hard and ready. Her hands moved down over his tight rear end covered in soft terry cloth. A tiny growl emanated from somewhere inside him as she squeezed and caressed. He smelled of soap and male and aftershave, deliciously Jesse.
“Marti,” he whispered. “If you don’t stop me now, I’m going to want all of you. I’m not strong enough to stop this myself.”
She could stop this, she thought. No, she couldn’t. She wanted this more than anything, even if she regretted it later. Even if they both regretted it. She found the knot where the towel fastened together and wrestled it free. The towel slid down to the floor, skimming her legs. She wanted to touch him, feel his smooth skin beneath her fingertips, and brought her hands around his hips to encircle his erection.
The second she touched him, he groaned louder, closing his eyes. She ran her fingers up and down the length of him, rubbing the velvety tip. She took him in, every glorious naked inch of him as she stroked. With her other hand, she touched his chest, trailed her fingers down his stomach. He was the beautiful one, golden from the sun, strong from work and play.
/> He swept her up into his arms where he carried her to the bedroom, and the crescendo of the music built with the anticipation. As he stripped off her clothes, he admired her body with his eyes, his hands. What she found bulging and unattractive, he seemed to find beautiful, miraculous. Beneath his gaze she transformed into a swan.
She had thought lovemaking would be awkward with her belly, but it didn’t bother her. The feelings that rushed in like a foamy wave crashed over her, receding gently, crashing forward again. His kisses made her ears roar and swept her away beyond all thought and reason.
Her hands were everywhere on him, sliding down his back, over his smooth buttocks, then around to the ridges of his flat stomach. She wanted all of him, wanted to touch and experience every inch of his body. He was hers, for that precious time, even his heart. She saw that in his eyes, eyes that seemed open to his soul.
Her breath came in shallow gasps, between kisses and sighs. His fingers were in her hair, tracing around her ears, her chin. He murmured her name, then captured her mouth again. She felt the tip of his penis prodding, exploring. Then slowly, he moved inside her. Her breath hitched, and when he was fully in, she forgot how to breathe. He watched her expression as he became one with her, hesitated at her sharp intake of breath until she squeezed his shoulders, urging him on.
“Jesse, Jesse, Jesse,” she murmured as the wave built to enormous heights, towering over her. “Jesse.”
He touched, caressed as he moved inside her, fought his climax, and continued on to satisfy her.
The feelings inside her rose to envelop her in a rush of warm water. She allowed herself to drown in him, in the feelings that made every nerve ending come alive. She didn’t have to fight off thoughts and inner voices; she thought nothing. Her senses needed nothing but to simply enjoy what was happening to her body. She felt high, giddy, entranced. Then the wave crashed down, filling her with such elation, she was sure her insides would explode.
Stranger in the Mirror [Shades of Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) Page 21