Every Yesterday (Boot Creek) (24 page)

“Oh, Megan. You were not. I’m coming over,” Katy said.

It wasn’t a question.

“I’m not getting out of bed,” Megan said.

“That’s fine. But do let me in, would ya?”

Megan felt too tired to even sit up, much less get up, and walk all the way to the front door. “There’s a key under the flowerpot.”

“That’
s imaginative,
” Katy said with a laugh.

“Don’t lecture me, please.”

“I won’t. I’ll see you in a few.”

It seemed like she’d just laid back down for a minute, when suddenly the bedroom light came on.

Katy stood over her. “Rise and shine.” She whipped open the drapes, letting the sunshine pour in.

“You cannot be serious,” Megan grumbled.

“How are you doing? You look like hell.”

“Thanks.” Megan put her forearm across her eyes to shield them from the light. “Did my mom call you?”

“No. Derek told me about the thing with Noah.”

“How did
he
know?”

“He spoke to Noah at the reception. From what I gather it was right after y’all had the knock-down-drag-out.”

“I didn’t knock him down. But I should have. Mom got a good whack in as we left, though. I took some joy in that.”

Katy sat down on the edge of the bed. “I take it y’all didn’t sort things out.”

Megan pushed back the sheets and sat up. “There’s nothing to sort out. I made a silly mistake. I opened myself right up for it.”

“How so?”

“All he was interested in was my car.” She gave a choked, desperate laugh. “I thought he cared about me. Like he was
the one
or something. I knew him less than a week. I’m smarter than this.”

“I only knew Derek a couple days when I had those feelings. I couldn’t believe it either,” Katy said. “At least you weren’t on the rebound from your husband cheating on you. Good lord, talk about bad timing. And yet it worked out for us.”

“You’re different.” She was swimming—no, more like treading water—through a haze of emotion. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You probably weren’t thinking. You were letting your heart lead the way.”

“It’s like he knew exactly what to say. Understood how I felt. I wasn’t even looking for anyone. You know that. I’ve been perfectly happy alone. And then he said everything right, and it was like we were supposed to be.”

Katy nodded. “I know. I know exactly how you’re feeling. I was running from my problems, looking for an escape when I bumped into Derek. The last thing I needed was the complication of someone else in the mix. But you don’t get to pick the timing for that stuff. It just happens. And when it does, it’s like lightning.”

“Lightning? What does that even mean? That it’ll kill me, because that’s pretty much how I feel right now. Beaten down.”

Katy laughed. “You’re tougher than that. No, like good lightning. It’s sudden. Explosive and undeniable. You can’t run or hide from it.”

It had been like lightning. Just not the good kind. But rather, the kind that stole my energy and knocked me on my butt.

“Derek said Noah was a mess after you found out about the bet.”

“Noah
should
have been embarrassed,” Megan said.

“He wasn’t embarrassed. He was sorry.”

“I think he’s pretty sorry. I’d agree with that.”

“Derek flat out told him he didn’t believe he cared about you either, but Noah convinced him otherwise, and you know how protective Derek is about us. Derek believes him. I think you should at least talk to Noah.”

“Why? So he can lie to me again? If not about this, about the next thing? Katy, I know you mean well, but I’ve traveled this path before. I will not fall into that trap again.”

“Maybe he made a mistake. Or his intentions changed as he got to know you.”

“That doesn’t change anything. I don’t want that kind of man in my life.” Or any man. What had happened to that plan she’d been following? Things had been going along perfectly fine before he’d happened into her life.

“If you didn’t care about him, you wouldn’t be lying there in a heap.”

Well, there was that
.

“Here. This was at the door.” Katy tossed a puffy manila envelope to Megan.

She caught it and turned it over. “What is it?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t bring it. It was sitting against the front door when I got here. I picked it up from the front stoop when I came in.”

Megan frowned, turning the mailer over in her lap. It wasn’t postal mail. There was no postage. No address. Only her name in perfectly straight block letters.

She tore the envelope open, reaching inside.

She pulled out something black and held it up in front of her. “It’s a California Dreaming Restoration
T-shirt.
” She twisted it around for Katy to see and something fluttered from the folds of the fabric.

Katy picked it up. “A card. And a print out of an electronic ticket for a flight? Not to California, though.”

“He invited me to a car show in a couple of weeks.” Megan’s defenses began to subside as she read the card. Then looked at the ticket. Then to Katy.

Katy’s face lit up. “I don’t know what that note says, but your face says it all. You’re intrigued. Interested. There’s something there. It’s worth checking out. Go after him.”

“You think?” A glow coursed through Megan. “I’ll read it out loud. You want to hear?”

“Of course I want to hear.”

She swallowed, and began to read the note.

Megan,

I never meant to hurt you. The first time I laid eyes on the DeSoto, I looked to heaven and said, Granddad. I found the one, man. And she’s not getting away.

Yes, I meant the car. It’s true, but I had no idea that a few days later, that statement would apply to you, not the car. I’m done chasing that memory. I’d much rather make new ones with you.

Please forgive me. At least consider it. Enclosed is a plane ticket to the car show. I hope I’ll see you there.

Noah

Katy’s head cocked slightly. “He’s in love with you.”

“You really think so? It’s all been so quick.”

“There’s not a timeline for these kinds of things,” Katy said. “Trust me. Derek swooped in without so much as a warning. But it’s right. And so perfect. And what if Noah is yours?”

“Then I’m afraid.” The swirling in Megan’s gut made her feel like someone had just poured concrete in her veins. “So afraid.”

“When’s the car show?”

“It’s next week.” Megan bit down on her lip. “I so wanted him to be the one.”

“He clearly feels the same way. You should go to Flynn’s and talk to him now. Why wait? Go now. Megan, what are you doing just sitting here?”

“You think so?”

“Did you hit your head on something? Yes, I think so.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I thought I knew what I wanted. This is not what I had planned.”

“Trust your heart,” Katy said.

“You’re right.” Megan threw the covers back from the bed. “I’ve got to go.” Still in her yoga pants and T-shirt, she grabbed a pair of flip-flops from her closet.

Katy pointed to Megan’s hair. “Brush?”

“My teeth! Yes.” She dashed toward the bathroom. Good lord. What was she even going to say? She prayed the right words would come.

“Your hair?” Katy called after her.

Megan stopped. “Hat! Dresser,” she called back to Katy. “The red one. It matches my shirt.” Then raced to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

A moment later Katy was standing in the doorway to the bathroom with the cap in her hand. “How appropriate.” Katy tossed the Life Is Good–logoed hat her way.

“Thank you,” Megan said with a mouthful of toothpaste. She spit and dabbed at her mouth.

“I’ll lock up.” Katy swooshed her out of the room. “Go. Go.”

Megan started then stopped, turned, and gave Katy a hug. “That’s for Derek too. Thank you.” She ran down the hall. “Wish me luck!”

She ran out the door and made a dash for her car. Revving the engine, her tires squealed as she made the turn onto the road, making the short ride to Crane Creek B&B in record time. With the excitement coursing through her, she probably could have run the short distance just as quickly.

She forced herself to settle down. Taking the time to catch her breath, she looked in the rearview mirror and swept her fingers under her eyes, then tugged on her ball cap, pushing her hair behind her ears.

This was as good as she was going to look under the circumstances. She drew a deep breath and forbade herself to tremble. She took slow, thoughtfully paced steps to the door, trying to keep her cool. The front door was open, and the smell of fried bacon wafted out into the warm summer air. “Knock, knock,” she called out, as she stepped inside. “Flynn?”

Flynn poked her head around the corner from the kitchen. “Hey,
gal.
”

“Noah?”

She flipped a dish towel over her shoulder. “He just left. Want to stay and have breakfast? It’s your favorite. My famous Flynn Pecan and Blackberry French Toast.”

“He left?”

“Yeah. He had one of those fancy town-car services cars come and pick him up to take him to the airport about fifteen or twenty minutes ago. Said he was going to fly standby.”

She turned and left with Flynn hollering after her. “Where are you going?”

“Chasing tomorrow.” The screen door slapped against the door frame behind her as she ran down the steps. She was not about to let yesterday stand in her way another day.

Please let it have been fifteen minutes. I can catch him with that head start.
She pulled her car out of the driveway and headed for the interstate. She pushed the speed limit. It was the only way she could catch up. Ahead she saw a black Cadillac. She raced to get next to it and looked over.

Please be Noah.

A man and woman sat in the front seat. A family car. Not a car service.

That would have been too lucky. She headed on toward Raleigh-Durham Airport without any luck of spotting another black town car. Circling the departure loop, she carefully scanned the area for any sign of Noah. He was tall. He should be easy to spot.

Where are you?

She pulled up along the curb in front of the American Airlines entrance.

A security guard walked over to the car. “You can’t park here, miss.” He gave her a move-along wave.

She didn’t even know what airline Noah would be on, and by the time she found a parking space in the garage, he’d be through security. With a moan of distress, she languished back in her seat.

A thousand thoughts pushed for her attention.

She could call. Ask him to turn around? But she needed to do this face to face. Needed to know that without a doubt she still had that feeling inside even after what had happened.

I can’t do that on the phone.

But what choice did she have? At least she could stop him from leaving. She took out her phone and punched the button. The moment that he’d put his number in her phone replayed in her mind. So much had happened in such a short time.

Her hand shook as she held the phone. The ringing on speaker sounded like it was in slow motion compared to her beating heart. But he didn’t answer. It went to voice mail. She ended the call.

She’d missed the opportunity to catch him, and he’d be on a plane back to California.

Accepting that she wasn’t going to get to see him today, she put her car back in drive and merged back onto the road to exit the airport.

By the time she’d gotten home, she’d wasted darn near another whole day. And for someone so certain she didn’t want to be in a relationship, she couldn’t wait to get this one sorted out.

She walked inside and rather than going to her apartment, which was her first inclination . . . to just crawl back under the covers until it was time to fly out to that car show . . . she turned left and headed for the garage bay. She stood at the glass-windowed door. Her hands pressed flat against it as she gazed inside.

What am I feeling? Is it the car, and a bunch of mixed up emotions from the best yesterdays of my life?

The picture Noah had wanted to buy caught her eye.

A warm glow coursed through her. She opened the door and stepped inside. Carefully she made her way around the car, checking it for any damage from its big adventure yesterday. Except for the dust, it looked just like it did when they’d taken it out of the garage. She’d take care of the dust later.

For now, she had other priorities.

She knew what she wanted. What she needed. And she didn’t really have to wait at all.

She walked over and picked up the painting.

What she was feeling wasn’t just about the car. It was the man. Noah. He did something to her that she couldn’t explain. And wasn’t that how it was supposed to be?

She tucked the painting under her arm and walked back into her apartment. She slid open the door to her studio, and propped the painting up on the easel.

This painting had been one of Dad’s favorites too.

Light filled the space. She used to love being in this room. Today it felt new again.

She slid the metal swivel stool over to the easel and climbed up on it. She sat there, with her feet hooked on the rungs, twisting and contemplating.

With her foot, she dipped her toes into the wide tray of the easel, pushing the tubes of paint, in varying stages of use, from one side to the other. Some full. Some squeezed like a tube of toothpaste to get the last dollop out. Some of them had been sitting there unused for probably the better part of six years.

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.