Every Yesterday (Boot Creek)

by Nancy Naigle

  She leaned forward and picked out three tubes, massaging them in her hand to see if they were even still malleable.

  Stepping down from the stool, she squeezed three tiny drops of paint onto a tray, and then selected a tall thin brush from the coffee can on the shelf behind her.

  The pink and white can was rusty around the edges, and the pink faded, the white yellowed, but the words It’s a Girl! still sharp and clear. Her birthdate was scrawled up one side of the can in her dad’s handwriting. She could only imagine how he must have been that day passing out cigars. But she knew exactly how she felt when he gave the cigar can to her. Like the most special girl in the world.

  He’d always had a way of making her feel that way.

  No one else, until Noah, had ever even come close. Daddy, I think you knew exactly what you were doing leaving me that car. You led Noah right into my life.

  She dipped her brush in the paint and worked in the slight change on the canvas, stepping back to make sure it was exactly right. Then she turned the wrapped canvas frame around and went to work on something special on the backside.

  Time slipped away as she painted. Closing her eyes. Remembering the precise moment. The feelings. Committing those memories to color, shapes, shadows, and lines. Only stopping to go to the refrigerator for another bottle of water. Never checking her phone. Or even stopping to eat.

  The image was coming together.

  She sat on the stool and examined it. So far, so good. She got up and continued until she was too tired to continue.

  In her bed, the image she was painting hung in her mind like the moon. It was all she could see, the only thing peacefully lighting her way.

  When she woke up she brewed a pot of coffee and went straight back to her studio. Only she didn’t feel the hurry she had yesterday. Today a welcoming calm had replaced the frantic panic that had overtaken her recently. She took the old white men’s shirt she used to love to wear while she painted and slipped it on over her clothes. Then settled in. Slowly, adding in the layers of light and shadow that would finally pull the image into motion. Making the likeness as vivid as that moment in her mind.

  She got up and walked over to her Balanced Buzz office. She checked the orders that had come in over the weekend. As she pulled from inventory, boxed orders, readying them for shipping—the painting continued to fill her thoughts. Colors, emotion, imagery.

  She stacked the orders by the front door. She’d drop them off at the post office in the morning. And then she had more important things to do.

  With those responsibilities out of the way, she googled Noah’s California Dreaming Restoration. The website was snazzy. Shiny. Vivid. Impressive. She clicked through the pictures, enjoying the before-and-after shots of his most recent projects. And there on the About Noah Black page was the same story he’d told her. About his grandfather. And that same blurry picture of that kid standing next to the car that looked like Dad’s. Mine.

  She wrote down the address on the pad of paper next to her computer. A quick search of the closest airport confirmed that Burbank was where she needed to go.

  She went back to her bedroom and got the card and plane ticket that had been in the envelope. Rereading the card, her heart had the same reaction. Like a somersault with a twist.

  No way was she going to wait another week to answer these questions. She picked up her phone and entered the phone number to the airline.

  “Yes, I’d like to see about exchanging a plane ticket for a different time and destination.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Following nearly ten hours from the time she’d left Boot Creek and a three-hour time change making it seem silly that she was so tired, she stood in the line for a taxi at the Burbank airport. On the bright side, she’d been able to stretch her legs on the multiple plane changes.

  She propped the wrapped painting on top of her suitcase, scooting them up a foot at a time as the line slowly moved her closer to the next ride.

  There seemed to be as many people in line here as there were residents of Boot Creek, and everyone seemed too busy to even say hello or gesture a quick nod.

  All around her, folks had their heads down, thumbing through their phones. No words. Just ring tones, chirps, and boings as the sun descended.

  When it was finally her turn she handed over her luggage, but carried the huge painting toward the car.

  “No, ma’am. That goes back here.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “It must. It’s too big.”

  “Look, I’m more comfortable with it in my care. Do you want me to find another driver?”

  The man shut the trunk lid, shaking his head all the way around to the front of the car.

  “Thank you,” she said as she slid in with the painting carefully balanced on the center hump in the floorboard.

  He copped an attitude, and she wasn’t sure if he was always an aggressive driver, slinging her from side to side as he changed lanes in the stop-and-go traffic, or if this was payback.

  Just get me there.

  She was too tired to even lecture him.

  And although the ride had been anything but a pleasure, she tipped him the standard just for getting her there safely. It had been a much longer ride from the airport than she’d anticipated. At home she planned a minute a mile. Not the case in California.

  She’d picked the hotel closest to California Dreaming Restoration. It came with a big price tag, but she hoped it would be worth it. Besides, it would be that much cheaper to catch a ride over to the shop, and it looked like they had a shuttle that might provide that service.

  The lobby was bright and plush. She checked in at the counter, feeling like a bit of a celebrity by the way they treated her.

  “Welcome, Ms. Howard.” The desk clerk pushed her keys across the shiny granite counter. “If there’s anything at all we can do to make your stay more comfortable, you let me know. I’m Rena.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Megan said. “Tomorrow morning I need to go here.” She pulled out the page she’d printed from the internet. “I think it’s just a couple miles away.”

  She looked at it. “Yes. It’s not far at all.”

  “Would the shuttle be able to take me there, or could you arrange a car for me?”

  “We’d be happy to take you there. What time?”

  She sucked in a breath. The earlier the better. But she didn’t want to get there before he arrived. “How about nine fifteen?”

  “I’ve got you down. Your driver will be waiting for you here in the lobby.”

  “Thank you so much.” And as if those butterflies hadn’t been breeding in her belly all day, now they practically lifted her off the ground with excitement.

  She went to her room and laid out her outfit for tomorrow.

  Yesterdays are behind me.

  Boots, black jeans, and the black California Dreaming Restoration T-shirt he’d left for her.

  Well, not exactly like he’d left it. That sucker was an XL for goodness sake. She’d run it by to Carla for some quick alterations to fit. The logo was a little far left, but at least she wouldn’t look like a frump.

  She slept well, but an East Coast girl on the West Coast just guarantees being wide-eyed and bushy tailed before the sun wakes up.

  There was no fighting it. So she got on up, but that made nine fifteen seem like another day away.

  Megan made coffee in her room and was delighted to hear the paper drop at her door at six.

  By the time to leave to go surprise Noah, she’d been up so long that she was ready for a nap. Not that she’d be able to sleep.

  She checked herself in the mirror three times before she finally went downstairs.

  As soon as she stepped into the lobby, a gentleman in a blue suit said, “Ms. Howard.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m your ride.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He held the door for her, and she slipped into the back seat of a brand-new, shiny,
black town car with her painting. He didn’t say a word. And he smiled. The way it should be.

  The soft leather of the interior still smelled new.

  She watched out the window as he pulled out of the lot and made a few turns. It didn’t look like what she thought California would look like. He turned off of the main road to a side street where the buildings were more industrial looking.

  Another mile and he pulled to a stop in front of a long low building with large bay doors across one whole end of it. The logo on the sign at the street and over the front door of the building matched her shirt.

  The coffee she’d drank earlier seemed to percolate in her gut.

  Please don’t let me be making a huge fool out of myself. Again.

  “Shall I wait?”

  “No.” She tipped him. “May I call when I need to get back?”

  He handed her a card. “Yes, ma’am. My direct number is on the card.”

  “Perfect. Wish me luck.”

  He laughed. “Yes ma’am.”

  She carried the painting toward the door, wondering if she was even going to be able to speak when she got inside.

  The door was smoked glass with shiny chrome-like lettering on it. Noah’s touches filled the space. A couch made from an old car seat, but with highly polished wood legs and arms. Matching leather chairs had been fabricated out of what looked like the bucket seats from some kind of race car. And tires under a huge glass round served as a coffee table.

  A guy with short blonde hair and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen walked in. He looked surprised to see her standing there.

  “Hi.”

  He cocked his head. “You’re one of us?” He pointed to the logo on her chest.

  She practically folded in on herself. “No. Well, it was a gift. From Noah.”

  “Oh? Yeah, we don’t get many visitors without an appointment. Hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

  “No. Not long.” She bit down on her lower lip. This was more awkward than she’d planned. “Is he here?”

  He walked over to an antique Coca-Cola cooler and pulled a soda. “Yeah. You want a soda? Got Coke, orange, grape.”

  “No thank you.”

  “Suit yourself. Follow me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You an artist?” He nodded toward the painting.

  She started to object, then smiled. “Yes. I am.”

  A pair of doors painted a shiny candy apple with chrome car door handles on them separated the small front lobby from the enormous shop.

  She walked through, wanting to take it all in. To see him in his environment, but before she’d even scanned the room the guy hollered, “Noah. Unexpected company.”

  It sounded like a warning. Like he’d just shouted “Incoming,” to his troops so they could run for cover.

  A flush rose from her neck to her cheeks, and her knees shook. She was quite literally quaking in her boots.

  Beyond a line of cars in various stages of renovation, Noah emerged, wiping his hands on a pinkish-red shop rag. His mouth had dropped open as if he were going to say something, but instead he broke into a smile and headed toward her.

  A smile trembled over her lips as she clung to that painting like a life ring.

  He walked up to her with a grin of amusement. “You are one surprise after another.”

  “I hope it’s a good surprise.”

  “Good? No. It’s great. Come.” He grabbed her hand and led her across the building.

  She ran to keep up, her boots clomping like one of those river dancers.

  He pulled her into his office. A sleek room with more chrome and shiny stuff.

  “I can’t believe you’re here.” He ran his hands down her arms. “That shirt never looked so good.”

  She laughed. “I had Carla hook me up.”

  “It’s good to see you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

  “I know. I mean, me either.” She held the picture out. “This is for you.”

  He took the large package from her and set it on his desk. He popped a knife from his hip and slit the tape with one quick flick of his wrist, then tore the paper, and Bubble Wrap away.

  His smile was thank you enough.

  “Thank you.” He held it up, looking at it like it was a treasure. “Hey, you fixed it.”

  “I did.”

  He kissed her on the nose. “I love it. Thank you so much.”

  “No. There’s more.”

  “More?” He sat on the edge of the desk and pulled her between his legs. “You are all I want. I promise you. With all of my heart.”

  She leaned in and kissed him. “I wanted to believe that so badly.”

  “Believe it.”

  She stepped away, and picked up the painting, turning it over. Then she took his hand and stood next to him. “This is the moment I knew I was in love with you.”

  He reached out and swept his fingers over the paint, wrapping his other arm around her next to him.

  “You are amazing. It’s like being there. I can almost feel the roughness of the rocks, how cold the water was, and the way the sun danced off of it that day. And your hair. It danced off of your hair too.”

  She laid her face against his chest. “I can’t believe this. I was so scared.”

  “I remember what I was feeling when we were standing there.” He shook his head. His eyes glistened. “I can’t believe you painted this for me.” His face held the softest, sweetest look. “Special. Just for me.”

  “I did. Just for you. My heart was so full that I couldn’t not paint that scene. And this seemed like the best place to put it. On the back of the picture of the car that you love so much. Our moment. Only ours.”

  “It’s perfect. You are perfect. Perfect for me.”

  “I’m done with looking in my rearview mirror. I’m leaving every yesterday behind. I’m living for today, and tomorrow. Want to join me?”

  “More than anything.”

  The heartrending tenderness of his gaze turned her heart over.

  Reclaiming her lips, he crushed her to him, sweeping her into his life in that single moment.

  She knew it would last. The dynamics of this relationship were on even ground. Noah was not Kevin, and Kevin no longer held her from living. The freedom that brought her had her heart soaring high.

  His tongue explored the recesses of her mouth, teasing, promising of so much more.

  Her fingers splayed into his hair, her thumbs caressing the stubble along his strong jaw.

  “When do you go back?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I got a one way ticket, in case you sent me packing and I’d have to buy a return right here.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “That is not going to happen, my love.”

  “I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t going to risk it.” Her heart was full, and she didn’t worry where this path was going to take her, because home would be wherever they made it. Although Boot Creek had been known to pull more than one or two people back, even after just one visit.

  “We’ll figure it out. And about abandoning those yesterdays,” he said, “I may have spoken out of turn. Those yesterdays led us to each other. I’m pretty thankful for them. Especially if you’re going to let me love you.”

  She slid her arms along his waist, leaning back to look into his eyes. “You’re right. Yesterdays are special, no matter how bad they seemed at the time.” She twined her arms around him. “But let’s just keep our eye on today.”

  He dropped a kiss on her nose. “And tomorrow.” Without hesitation he smiled and lowered his mouth to hers. “I want you in my arms today, tomorrow, and every yesterday from here on out.”

  Acknowledgments

  As with all books, it takes many people wearing many hats to make a story go from idea to publication. I have the best team of professionals behind me at Montlake Romance. Thank you for believing in me and being there through each story idea to help me reach my goals and live this dream.
>
  Thank you to Ron Cava of the First Baptist Church in Henderson, North Carolina for the history and lovely descriptions of their beautiful church—the perfect backdrop for a Boot Creek wedding.

  They say behind every song, there’s an untold story. When I heard singer-songwriter, Tim McDonald’s song, Let Me Love You, I knew it was what was playing when Noah and Megan danced in this story. A round of applause for you, Tim. You told my three-hundred-page story in three minutes. Thank you for letting me use your special song as the backdrop for the book and video trailer. Hugs and best wishes in every facet of your life.

  Every Yesterday was extra special to me because of the topic—cars. I love pretty cars and have always had a great appreciation for them. I had so much fun doing the research for this book. Thank you to my dear friend, David White, for chatting with me about the process of finding and restoring his favorite cars.

  I did some legwork for this book. During my visit to Kissimmee in January, 2015, I got to check off an item on my bucket list by attending the annual Mecum auction, talking with other enthusiasts, and even buying a car. Accidently on purpose. Who can resist a shiny red 1998 Mercedes Benz SLK convertible? Seriously? Thanks to Dale at Reliable Carriers for getting my impulse buy home, and for some insider 411 on the business.

  Thanks to the gang at Barrett-Jackson who supplied quick and detailed responses to my questions about the ’58 DeSoto Adventurer Convertible. They even had one go across their auction block in Scottsdale two days before I turned this book in. Very cool to see that beauty!

  Thank you to Edward X. Petrus from Pennsylvania for his in-depth knowledge of these cars, and to Bodie Stroud, of History Channel’s American Restoration and owner of Bodie Stroud Industries, who shared his enthusiasm and love of all things automotive. You are the real deal, my friend! Bodie, your enthusiasm was absolutely contagious and I hope half of what you shared shines through in this book so everyone understands it. Who knew that your wife of twenty years had been driving a Karmann Ghia when y’all met? Just like Megan in this story? Now that was truly a coincidence. When you told me that story and your tender memories of that day, I knew I had the right guy talking to me. Happy twentieth anniversary to you and your bride, Bodie. Readers, I happen to know that Bodie’s bride is getting an extra special car-guy present from him one day soon. It’s so romantic that I might just have to use that in a book someday!