The Long Road Home (10 page)

“I didn’t realize getting a couple of aspirin took so long.”

A nervous laugh spluttered from Clarisse’s mouth, sounding fake and hollow. She palmed the bottle, rattling the pills, while she searched for words to ease the tension.

John remained silent. Other than a slight flush to his cheeks, he looked cool and casual. Clarisse wanted to hit him. How could he turn on and off so easily? Unlike him, her heart was racing wildly and her mind lay scattered into shards of fragile glass.

Clarisse cleared her throat. “I guess I’ll see you at three then. Thanks, John.”

“It was nothing.”

For a second, she thought he meant their kiss. Struggling for calm, she closed her eyes and reopened them to find Vivian glaring at her from the doorway.

She’d need a little more than a couple of aspirin to get through the remainder of the evening. More like a tranquilizer large enough to down an elephant.

“See you in the morning,” she muttered and hurried past Vivian. The screen snapped shut behind her. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know Vivian’s daggered gaze sliced into her back.

Hurrying to her room, she locked the door and sank into the nearest chair. She’d forgotten her soda, but there was no way in hell she would go back for it.

“I’m a fool,” she told the empty room. “A stupid fool for letting myself get near him. He must think it funny at how he can turn me on with the slightest touch. But that’s going to change. Today’s the last time I’ll let him within arm’s reach.”

She swallowed the pills, then went to bed for the evening. She stared at the darkened ceiling, tired but unable to sleep. Thoughts of what Vivian and John were doing in their room intruded into her mind. Swallowing a sob, she hugged a pillow.

Jealousy. It seeped through her skin and ate at her insides.

****

The shrill ring of the telephone blasted into her head. She fumbled about and managed to find the receiver to answer the motel’s wake-up service. Two-thirty already. Hanging up, she groaned and pulled the covers over her head, not looking forward to the coming day, but after a deep sigh, she struggled out of bed. She couldn’t laze around. John would be at her door. And the sooner they were on the road the better. It would make the trip that much quicker.

She pulled clothing randomly from her suitcase. At this point anything would do. Her wardrobe consisted of pants, pants and more pants. Very little variety. She shrugged, looking on the bright side. At least she never had a problem with what to wear.

She showered and slipped on underwear and a bra. Droplets still clung to her skin as she walked from the bathroom into the living area. Absently, she rubbed her dripping hair with a towel.

The doorknob rattled. Stunned, Clarisse stared with open-mouthed amazement. Somehow, the door she thought she had locked last night, swung open, astonishing Clarisse from her frozen position. Heart in her throat, she lurched across the room and grabbed her robe draped across the bed. Pain sliced into her leg. She fumbled with the sleeves. She couldn’t find the damn holes. Oh hell! Where had they disappeared to? John couldn’t see her like this!

Vivian stepped into the room, her lips spreading into a flat line.

Clarisse’s heart rate surged in anger at the sight of the redhead. How rude. She had no right barging into her room without knocking.

“Excuse me?” Clarisse pivoted, shielding her scarred leg. Arms flapping wildly, she shrugged frantically into the satin sleeves. She envisioned Vivian’s reaction if the other woman caught sight of her scars. She would gloat over Clarisse’s misshapen leg. “Doesn’t a person usually knock before coming in?”

“You must not have heard.” The redhead’s lips curved into a semblance of a smile, but her eyes regarded her with icy dislike.

Cinching the belt around her waist, Clarisse folded her arms in front of her. Her heart rate lowered to a more natural pace but didn’t calm completely. She didn’t like how Vivian’s speculative gaze skimmed her body.

“What’s wrong? You’re acting strange.”

Clarisse tensed, hoping her expression didn’t give her away. “Wrong? Why, nothing’s wrong.”

Vivian’s face tightened. Malice flared in her eyes. “Whatever you say, darling.”

“What do you want?”

Vivian looked around and sauntered further into the room. “John was wondering if you were ready.”

“I just need a couple more minutes.”

Vivian didn’t move.

Clarisse sighed. “What do you want?”

“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”

Clarisse stiffened at something in the other woman’s cold, rigid expression. “What are you talking about?”

“You might have John confused at the moment, but not for long. He’ll soon come around and realize how good he has it with me. He’s not going to forget how your relationship ended.”

“He told you!”

Vivian threw her a satisfied smile. “But of course. He tells me everything.”

“I don’t believe you.” But deep down she knew John could have confided to Vivian. After all, why wouldn’t he? The two were lovers.

“Personally, I don’t care what you believe. I want you to leave him alone!” She advanced, stopping a foot away. She poked Clarisse in the chest with a red tipped finger. “I’m the one he’s going to be with. You better get that through your head or else.”

Clarisse slapped her hand away. Chin rising, she stared back. “Or else what?”

“If you think that door against your leg was painful, then think again. I’ll make sure something worse happens to you!”

Clarisse clenched her hands into fists, suppressing the urge to throttle the woman. She’d suspected Vivian had slammed the door on her intentionally, but to be told so blatantly and without remorse stunned and infuriated her.

“Get out!”

Vivian’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Don’t worry. I’m out of here. Just remember, keep away from John. He’s mine.”

The screen swung shut behind Vivian. Breathing heavily, Clarisse slammed the inner door. She’d never! The nerve! Why—why—

Vibrating with rage, she grabbed the plastic bottle of aspirin off the table and heaved it across the room. It hit the window. The lid flew open, and pills spewed from the bottle, clicking against the glass and spraying the drapes and floor.

“This isn’t happening!”

She opened and closed her hands, then swiped impatiently at a tear. No! That woman wasn’t going to turn the next couple of days into one hellish experience after another. She wouldn’t allow it. She took a couple fortifying breaths and found her purse. She needed to calm down. John was out there, and his threat of taking her to a doctor chilled her to the marrow. She couldn’t handle that type of emotional confrontation.

Her leg throbbed with renewed vigor, forcing her to take two painkillers. So much for a speedy recovery. Earlier, the short night’s rest had eased the pressure, but flying across the room after her robe had worsened the injury. If she weren’t careful, she would damage her knee beyond repair.

John and Vivian were waiting by the car by the time she paid for her room. She nodded a greeting. Pain cut into her knee as she heaved her luggage into the back. Anymore walking and carrying would kill her if the pills didn’t soon take effect.

“Glad to see your leg’s better.”

She forced a smile at John’s concern. If only he knew, he’d have her at the doctor’s office before she could draw a breath. “Couldn’t be better. I guess a good night’s sleep can do wonders.” She ignored Vivian’s raised brow and mocking glance.

By ten o’clock, the humidity and temperature climbed to record highs. The wind swirled in from the open windows, ineffective against the sweltering heat. Clarisse wilted beneath the onslaught. Beside her, the plastic wrapping around Vivian’s dress rippled and flapped with the buffeting wind. The noise battered her ears. She was growing to hate that dress as much as Vivian. The temptation to toss the thing out the window overwhelmed her. But of course she didn’t give into the urge. She was civilized after all.

After this morning’s confrontation, Vivian appeared in a good mood, laughing at John’s quips and hanging on every word. Clarisse silently watched, having no desire to participate in the conversation, especially over the sounds of the wind and radio.

At twelve, John exited off the interstate and stopped at a gas station. While he was busy refueling, Clarisse eased from the back and looked around. Grease coated the pumps and cracked pavement. Nearby, houses peeling with paint and faded with age, rested amid overgrown grass and weeds. Sagging wood and chain link fences circled the properties, looking sadly neglected. Realizing she wasn’t in the best neighborhood, she hurried to the bathroom as fast as her leg would allow. Once inside, she peered into the streaked mirror. Dark smudges circled her eyes, and no amount of make-up could hide the fatigue stamped across her face. And why wouldn’t she be showing the strain? Mentally, she had been attacked from all sides. This morning, Vivian’s mask had been ripped away, exposing an ugly, vindictive woman. If John only knew what lay beneath. But maybe he did, and just didn’t care. Maybe he was only in it for a good time.

After using the facilities and splashing tepid water on her face, she stepped from the rest room. Suddenly, the bushes beside her gyrated, the leaves rustling loudly. She jumped in fright, clutching her chest with one hand.

When no one leaped from the bushes, she frowned and drew cautiously closer. Something small and black rummaged in the knee-high weeds beside a garbage can. For a second, she thought it a raccoon or squirrel, but pulling a branch aside revealed a dog, weighing not more than ten pounds. It trotted out from the thick undergrowth. The animal brushed against her. Its tail, bent at an odd angle, wagged furiously.

She scratched the dog. It vibrated with fear. Her fingers dipped around its stomach, touching the ribs with a gentle hand. Skin and bone. “You poor boy! When was the last time you had something decent to eat?”

The dog sniffed her outstretched palm. She searched for a collar, some type of identification, but found none. The neglected animal, his hair lack luster and matted around the scruff of the neck and hindquarters, hadn’t seen a bath in what appeared years.

“What’s that?” Vivian asked.

“A dog. I think it’s a poodle and terrier mix, but it’s hard to tell with all these mats.”

“It’s disgusting!” Clarisse’s spine stiffened at Vivian’s tone. “The thing must be infested with fleas.”

“What’s infested?”

The dog scratched her leg, wanting up. She lifted the animal and cradled it in the crook of her arm, turning around for John to get a clearer view.

“It’s ugly.” Vivian’s lip curled.

Clarisse hugged the shuddering animal closer to her chest. “He just needs a wash and grooming.”

“I think it might need more than that,” John retorted with a half-smile and raised brow. “It looks like a bedraggled mop.”

“Well, I don’t want that thing anywhere near me.” Vivian stepped away in distaste.

“He’s a stray.” Clarisse frowned at the redhead, unable to hide her dislike. “I can’t just let him starve to death.”

“Well, you’re not seriously going to bring it into the car, are you?”

Clarisse sighed. “I was hoping John would let me.”

“The last thing we need is an animal,” he protested, eyeing the dog with a dubious frown. “It’s impossible. If you want, we can leave it at the local animal shelter.”

Clarisse’s lips firmed. “Do you seriously think he’ll have a chance?” She looked down at the neglected creature and back up to John. “Most people pick the pretty ones. He’s a stray with no history.”

“Clarisse, have you even thought that it might already have a home?”

“Some home. They obviously take good care of him.” She met John’s frustrated expression. “I doubt he has an owner any more. You can feel its ribs through the skin. He hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks.”

“Why would you care? It’s a mutt.” Vivian tapped her toe.

“So what if he is?” Clarisse snapped back. “He needs help! I’m not about to turn my back on him, just because he doesn’t have papers or a pedigree. John, I’ll take care of him. I’ll keep him in the back seat with me. You won’t even know he’s around.”

“Clarisse, I swear you haven’t changed. You don’t know when to leave well enough alone.” He dug his hand through his sable hair, groaning loudly. “There’re stops to make. We’d have to get food. He could be carrying a disease for all we know. I don’t know.”

Clarisse smothered a smile. All his excuses were a sure sign he was weakening. Till now, she hadn’t realized how many times she had caved in his defenses. “If we leave him, he’ll either starve to death or get hit by a car.”

“Fine. Bring him along,” he muttered, raising a hand in surrender. He met Clarisse’s gaze. A reluctant smile curved the corners of his lips, and he ruefully shook his head. “I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Thanks.” She could almost hug him.

“John, you can’t be serious!” Vivian placed a beseeching hand on his arm. “It’s crazy dragging along some smelly dog with us!”

“Maybe, but it’s nothing you need to worry about.” Amusement lingered in his slate eyes. “Clarisse’s the one responsible. If you have a problem with it, take it up with her.”