Married 'til Monday

by Denise Hunter

  “I’ll drive.”

  “No.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’ll drop the subject if you’ll switch seats.”

  She huffed, weighing her options. There was no decision really. She’d ride on the top of the car if it would end this conversation. She grabbed Boo and exited the car, passing Ryan at the front.

  When she got back in she slid on her sunglasses, grabbed her laptop, and plunged into her next case. Anything, just so she didn’t have to think about the dark, ugly spot inside that was growing bigger by the second.

  Chapter Nineteen

  AWHILE LATER A CLANKING NOISE PULLED ABBY FROM her work. She looked up in time to see Ryan’s gaze drop to the gauge panel, a frown pulling at his eyebrows.

  The clank sounded again, and the car shuddered.

  Ryan’s wary gaze flitted off her, making Abby’s heart lurch. “Oh my gosh, if you’ve run us out of gas again, I’m going to kill you.”

  He glanced at the panel again. “We still have an eighth of a tank. It didn’t make this sound before when we ran out.”

  Abby held her breath as the car lost velocity. He turned on the blinker and floated to the right lane.

  “Great. Just great.” She looked around, wondering where they were. How far from an exit. There was nothing but highway, hills, and trees as far as she could see. The GPS showed a town called Millbury not too far ahead.

  Ryan coasted into the emergency lane, and the car rolled to a stop. Boo climbed into her lap, looking out her window at the woods flanking the road.

  Ryan popped the hood. “I’ll take a look.”

  A vehicle passed, shaking the car, giving her a sense of déjà vu. She put a leash on Boo and took her for a short walk in the high grass. The heat was stifling, the air humid.

  When she heard the hood slam shut, she went back to the car. “Did you find anything?”

  “No.” He turned toward the highway. “I’m guessing it’s some kind of aftereffect from the flooding.”

  She remembered his response when the car had started back at the house. Thank You, God, he’d said. Where was God now? And how come He only got credit for the good stuff?

  “There’s an exit a mile or so up the road. I saw the sign before we lost power. Let’s lock up and start walking. I’m sure there’ll be a gas station, probably even a garage.”

  She thought of Lewis back at the agency, no doubt sucking up to Frank every second she was gone. “This can’t be happening.”

  “It might be an easy fix. A slight delay.”

  “Or it might be a disaster. Maybe we should call a tow truck.”

  “I’m not getting a signal on my phone.”

  Abby checked her own and sighed. They were in a dead spot. Great.

  “It’s less than a mile,” he said. “And the locals will know who to call. Come on, I could stand to stretch my legs anyway.”

  A car passed, the rush of air lifting her hair from her shoulders. “Fine.”

  The walk seemed longer than a mile. Boo picked her way through the forest of grass, while Ryan and Abby slogged through the mud. Abby’s hair clung to the back of her neck, and she chided herself for not grabbing a hair band from her suitcase. The exit ramp was uphill, of course, and by the time they were halfway up, her shirt was sticking to her back.

  They finally passed the tree line at the top of the ramp, and Abby looked around, her heart sinking. There was no gas station, much less a garage. Just a dilapidated mom-and-pop store with two old trucks parked out front.

  “Perfect.”

  “At least it’s something. They’ll be able to direct us.”

  The five hundred yards felt like another mile in her mud-encased shoes. Abby scooped up Boo, and they entered the Podunk store. A blast of warm air plumed out from a window fan, carrying the smell of roasting wieners and cigarette smoke.

  “Afternoon,” the man behind the counter said. He was fortyish with a salt-and-pepper goatee. He wore a camouflage GET-R-DONE cap and a plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off.

  “Hi there,” Ryan said. “Wondering if you could help us.” He explained their situation and asked about an auto repair shop.

  The man scratched his goatee. “Well, Charlie’s Garage is just down the road. You could call him for a tow. Here, I’ll look up the number for you.”

  “That’s great. Thank you.” Ryan gave Abby his See?-It’s-going-to-be-fine smile.

  The clerk filled a plastic bowl with water and set it on the counter. “For your dog.”

  “Thanks.” Abby set it on the floor, and Boo began lapping.

  They scooted over for the store’s sole customer, a dark-haired man in droopy jeans with a mustache thick enough to snare the most vicious of cold germs. He plopped down a package of beef jerky and a box of Andes mints.

  “That all for ya, Dave?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Say, couldn’t help overhearing.” He looked from Ryan to the clerk. “Charlie’s closed on Mondays. It’s his hunting day. I know ’cause he was married to my cousin’s sister-in-law, and she got fed up with all his hunting and left him. He’ll be open bright and early in the morning, though. Worth the wait—he knows his way around an engine.”

  “Tomorrow’s too late,” Abby said. “Is there anyplace else?”

  The clerk rang up the purchases. “’Fraid not. Not close by at least.”

  “He’s right. Nearest one’s in Kingston, but they don’t tow that far. ’Sides, they have a bad reputation. Charlie wouldn’t cheat nobody.”

  Great, it would be tomorrow before anyone even looked at the car. Abby scowled at Ryan. Maybe it’s an easy fix. A slight delay. This was looking worse and worse.

  “I don’t suppose there’s anywhere to rent a car,” Abby said.

  “How would you get your car back home?” Ryan asked.

  “Right now I couldn’t care less.”

  “You won’t find any rentals around here,” Dave said.

  Ryan touched Abby’s arm. “Let’s just wait ’til morning. I don’t see what option we have.”

  She shrugged his hand off. “And stay where, Ryan? I didn’t see any Holiday Inns out here either.”

  “She’s right.” The clerk took Dave’s money and handed back his change. “Nearest hotel’s as far as that other garage. I’d offer to put you up, nice young couple like yourselves, but the wife just had a baby, and I’m already in the doghouse for coming back to work so soon.”

  “I’m staying at my buddy’s,” Dave said. “He’s already got a full house. Sorry.”

  Abby couldn’t believe they’d even offered. She’d never stay at a stranger’s house. Though Ryan probably wouldn’t give it a second thought.

  “Is there anyplace at all?” Ryan asked. “A bed-and-breakfast, a campground maybe?”

  The clerk was shaking his head thoughtfully.

  What were they going to do? Sleep in the car on the side of the road? She thought of her parents’ house, a measly few hours away. She so didn’t want to go back there, but what else could they do?

  She caught Ryan’s eyes. “Maybe we should call my dad to come get us.”

  He gave her a pointed look, his jaw flexing. “Please. Call him. Make my day.”

  Ooo-kaay . . . so that wasn’t going to work. They didn’t need to add first-degree murder to their list of troubles.

  “Hey,” Dave said. “What about that cottage Moe and Meredith rent out down by Pierce Valley Pond?”

  The clerk nodded. “Good thinking. I bet it’s available, after all the rain we had.”

  Dave slipped away to make the call, since he was distantly related to Moe.

  Abby couldn’t believe this. Thanks a lot, God. Another win for Your column. They’d be lucky if this only added one day to their trip. Frank was going to be ticked, and she was going to be stuck in some cottage with Ryan until morning—and who knows how long it would take to fix the car.

  “Good news,” Dave said, ambling back over. “The place is all yours for fifty bucks a night—I told
Meredith about your trouble.”

  The clerk gave a whistle. “That’s a good deal you got there.”

  “And it’s available ’til Friday,” Dave said. “In case the repairs take awhile.”

  “God forbid,” Abby muttered.

  “I can give you a ride out there if you want,” Dave said. “She said the place was all ready for guests, and she’d stop by later tonight to make sure you have everything you need.”

  “What about our luggage?” Abby asked Ryan.

  Dave rubbed his mustache. “I’ll drive you back to get it. How far is it?”

  “Just a mile or so,” Ryan said.

  “You might want to grab some food and whatnot,” Dave said. “The pond’s in the middle of nowhere.”

  Perfect.

  Chapter Twenty

  “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.”

  Abby surveyed the “cottage” from the drive as Dave’s truck rolled away. Made of gray weathered planks and roughly 10 × 12 feet, the place was more shanty than cottage. Especially since it leaned, ever so slightly, to the right.

  Boo wiggled for freedom, and Abby set her down.

  Ryan passed her with both bags. “It beats sleeping in the car.” He found the key under the rusty bucket on the porch and opened the door.

  He flipped on the switch and stepped inside, sidling against the wall to make room for her. She instantly noticed one thing about the room: the bed took up all of it.

  “Well, it’s . . . cozy,” Ryan said. “There’s a fireplace. That’s nice.”

  “It’s ninety degrees in here.” Though once the sun set she’d be begging for heat.

  “It’s an old fishing shack,” he said.

  “That explains the smell.”

  Boo snooped around the room, her nose to the floor, while Ryan dropped the luggage on the bed. There really wasn’t any other place for it. The bed—and she was being generous to the wood-framed bunk—was full sized and had a narrow pathway around it. The mattress was bare, and she sure hoped there were clean sheets somewhere.

  Note to self: where was Ryan going to sleep?

  The foot of the bed ended at an oblong table, holding a small TV with rabbit ears. Beside it was a mini-fridge, stacked with a microwave and a cheap coffee maker perched on top—like a small-appliance version of Jenga. Too bad they hadn’t known about the coffee maker. They’d bought instant coffee.

  Beside the bed was a closed door that, presumably, led to the bathroom. She didn’t even want to see the treasures awaiting her there.

  “Is there air conditioning? Or heat?” She scanned the walls for a thermostat and noticed they were made of particleboard. Someone had painted them white to give the place that nice, homey feel.

  “Doesn’t look like it. We’ll get some air flowing though.” Ryan opened the door and windows, and a warm breeze wafted through. At least that might help with the smell.

  “We’ll use the fireplace for heat tonight.” He scanned the room, a fond look on his face. “Reminds me of the place Dad and I used to go up on Hardy Lake. I’ll bet there’s fishing gear in that old shed out back.”

  “Oh, goody.” Abby unloaded their things into the mini-fridge, setting the rest on the TV table. “How’re we going to get back into town once the car’s fixed?”

  “It’s a small town, friendly folks. We’ll figure it out.” He pulled out his phone. “We have a signal. Thank You, God.”

  “How can you even say that? You realize we’re stuck here. No car, basically Cheetos for supper, and who knows how long it’s going to take for repairs.”

  “I know it’s not ideal, and it’s frustrating. But it could be a lot worse.”

  His delusional optimism—that’s what was frustrating. The room suddenly felt hot and stifling. The walls—if you could call them that—pressed in on her. Ryan seemed to take up more than his fair share of space. She thought of the long evening ahead, just her and Ryan in this tiny shack with nothing to do but eat junk food and watch grainy images on an ancient TV. And what about later? There was no place to sleep except the bed.

  When she’d agreed to attend her parents’ anniversary party, this was not what she’d signed up for. Not even close.

  She needed some air. “I’ll be outside.”

  Ryan watched Abby walk out the door, his chest tightening. He couldn’t help but feel like she was slipping even farther away. It didn’t help that she was obviously disgruntled at being stuck here with him. He looked around the shanty. Sure, it wasn’t the Marriott, but with a fire and the lights dim, it might be kind of romantic. If they squinted a little.

  Not that Abby wanted romance. Truth was, he didn’t know what Abby wanted. He ran his hand over his jaw as he walked to the window. She was headed toward the pond, Boo trailing behind.

  He was at a loss. She’d opened up to him today, but he’d practically forced her to, and now she was back to being guarded.

  God, help me out here. She’s really been hurt, and I don’t even know how to begin to help her. What kind of scars that must’ve left her with . . . I’m not equipped for this. But I want to help her. I want to love her, but she doesn’t want me.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. He withdrew it and saw a text from Madison.

  Where are you?

  He punched in a reply.

  Stuck in New Hampshire for the night.

  Stuck? What happened?

  Car trouble. Garage closed.

  Bummer. Everything okay?

  Well, let’s see. We’re in a tiny fishing shack in the middle of nowhere. Abby is upset about the delay. There’s no place for me to sleep but the bed—I’m sure she’s not thrilled about that either. And I pulled some painful info out of her today, and I think she kind of hates me for it.

  Wow, that’s a lot. Sorry things aren’t going well.

  No, you’re not.

  Hey. I know we haven’t seen eye to eye on this, but I love you. I want you to be happy.

  Even if it’s Abby who makes me happy?

  There was a long pause. Yeah, that one must be a stumper. He watched Abby through the dirty windowpane. She settled on one of the big rocks, her auburn hair floating on the breeze.

  His phone buzzed again.

  I’ve been praying about that. I feel bad about the way I responded to her toward the end of your marriage. I’m sorry.

  Thanks. I appreciate that. I didn’t know until today how rough she’s had it. Bad childhood—and I know what Mom would say about that, so spare me.

  Lots of baggage, huh?

  A carousel full. I’m in over my head.

  Don’t forget—Beckett had a rough childhood too, remember? Abandonment, alcoholism . . . there are definitely lingering effects. But if you love her, and she’s willing, it can be worked through.

  Didn’t work so well last time.

  Have you both learned things that would cause your relationship to go a different direction? Otherwise, it’s pointless.

  Short answer for me, yes. Abby, not sure. But the whole subject is pointless because we’re not even on the same page.

  You haven’t told her you still love her?

  I don’t want to scare her away. And trust me, it would.

  She was always kind of guarded.

  She has reason. I got through to her once, and I’m willing to do it again. I don’t know how to get from where we are to where I want to be. Most important, she’s hurting, and I don’t know how to help her.

  You got her to talk about it. That’s always good.

  Doesn’t feel that way. She’s pushing me away.

  Just be her friend. That’s what she needs right now.

  A few minutes later he signed off. He located a lighter and brought in enough firewood to last the night, then he found the sheets and made the bed. He put out food and water for Boo in plastic bowls he’d found.

  Just be her friend.

  How could he do that when he longed for so much more?

  Abby stretched out her legs on the grassy shore
and leaned back on the rock. The breeze rippled the water’s silvery surface and carried the scents of pine trees and loamy earth.

  She’d been sitting here long enough to cool down—literally and figuratively. The scenery was beautiful, even she had to admit that. The pond was almost lake sized, set down in a valley. Wild flowers camped out on the banks, and the graceful branches of weeping willows dipped their fingers into the water. Birds tweeted nearby, and the water lapped quietly against the shore. The shadows were growing longer as the sun sank behind the hills.

  The owners had come out, an older couple who seemed pleased to have them there. Abby had given them one night’s payment and promised to be in touch about their plans.

  Ryan had come outside for firewood but hadn’t so much as looked her way. She couldn’t blame him; she’d been pretty moody. But that’s what being vulnerable did to her, and no one made her feel as vulnerable as Ryan.

  There had been a moment after she’d told him about her dad when she’d seen his reaction. When he’d looked as if he wanted to tear Dad apart, limb from limb. A moment when she’d known what it was like for someone to stand up for her. The same way he’d done at the supper table when her dad had been on her case.

  It felt good. There was no denying that. The person who was supposed to love her most in this world hadn’t lifted a hand to stop him. Not that Mom had ever been around when it happened. But she’d known.

  The little girl in her still believed she’d deserved Dad’s ire. Otherwise, why would he do it? Why would Mom let it continue? But the grown-up in her realized that what Ryan had said was true: no child deserved to be abused. Knowing with her head, she’d found, was a different thing than knowing with her heart.

  “Hungry?” Ryan appeared at her side. He handed her a quesadilla on a paper towel and a bottled water. “Extra cheese—just the way you like it.”

  It was warm on her palm. “Thanks.” He’d melted the cheese slices in between the tortillas. “Creative.”

  He held up a bag of nacho chips. “Our side dish.”

  “A Mexican theme. Nice.”

  They ate in silence, enjoying the ambiance and cooling temperatures. Boo stared with longing at the food until Ryan, with Abby’s permission, tossed her his last bit of plain tortilla.