The Long Road Home (3 page)

“I—yes.” He retained a grip on her arm. “What about you? You almost took a nose dive.”

She glanced away. A curtain of her blonde hair fell forward, obscuring her face and the pain she knew lay carved there.

“I guess my legs must have fallen asleep right along with everything else.”

The sound of footsteps made Clarisse turn. She found an unsmiling Vivian on their side of the truck. Guilt sent a warm blush to Clarisse’s cheeks as she and John drew away from each other. His hand dropped to his side, but the heat from his fingers still burned into her flesh.

“I—” Clarisse closed her mouth. There was no reason for her to explain, especially when there was nothing to explain. “I’ve got to check a couple of things in my bag. It might take a minute. Why don’t I meet you both inside?”

After she watched them disappear into the building, she rummaged in her purse for her painkillers and tissues. She swallowed two pills and used a Kleenex to wipe the perspiration from her brow. Impatiently pulling at the material clinging to her back, she waited until she thought they were seated at a table. Then she grabbed her purse and closed the door. She scanned the restaurant’s glass doors and wall of windows for John and Vivian. Unable to find them, Clarisse took a deep breath and limped across the parking lot. Once in the lobby, she clenched her jaw and moved slowly and as gracefully as she could. She found them sitting at the back of the room. Not that far to walk, Clarisse convinced herself.

By the time she slid into a chair directly across from John and to the right of Vivian, a new film of perspiration clung to her brow. A silent groan of relief eased from her parted lips as her weight lifted from her leg. She was beginning to regret leaving her cane behind. Vanity was turning into a hellish experience.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” John’s gaze raked her face.

“Why, you’re as pale as a sheet.” A frown pleated Vivian’s brow. “Why don’t you have some water?” She flagged down a waiter. “Can you get her some water? The poor girl’s wilting.”

“I’m fine.” Clarisse forced a laugh. The sound seemed fake even to her ears.

“You don’t look fine,” Vivian persisted, reaching across the table and placing the back of her hand against Clarisse’s forehead. “Your skin’s hot and clammy. Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?”

Clarisse pulled back at the unexpected touch. “Seriously, there’s no reason to cause such a commotion.” Her stomach knotted at Vivian’s persistence. She wondered whether her behavior in some way hinted at the injury to her leg. “I’m not sick, just a little tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I waited until the last minute to pack.”

She reached for the glass of water the waiter placed in front of her. Ice cubes rattled. Clarisse steadied her trembling hand and brought the glass to her lips. She met John’s gaze over its rim and didn’t like how he was watching her. That impassive expression of his had always been a bad sign. It usually meant his mind was working the hardest.

“Vivian, why don’t you leave the poor woman alone?” Amusement softened his features. “I think she’s becoming alarmed at your nursing antics.”

Vivian sat back in her chair. “Sorry about that. I guess I tend to get a little carried away since I started taking a couple of classes at a medical college. I’ve been thinking of trying my hand at something else since modeling fizzled out for me.”

Clarisse drained the rest of her drink and put the glass on the table.

“Well, it looks like I was right.” Vivian beamed. “That water did the trick. You look better already. I’m going to freshen up. All this driving.”

The redhead wove through the tables, poised and turning many a male head. Her red hair flowed down around her, as vivid as the last rays of a sunset over the horizon before fading to dusk. Silence, awkward and heavy with tension, followed Vivian’s departure.

“She’s very beautiful,” Clarisse said.

“You sound envious.”

She turned startled eyes to John. “Do I?”

“You shouldn’t be. Hell, you know you’re just as beautiful as her or any other woman out there. As a model, you had something many didn’t. Elegance, sophistication. Just a touch of aloofness. It’s what set you apart. Why else would you have gotten paid top dollar?”

Yes, she had been in demand. She hated being reminded of what she once had. She rubbed her right thigh self-consciously. But that was years ago, and held no bearing now. “I see you haven’t changed. Still thinking about appearances. You always liked beautiful things around you. Including people.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

The question snapped her mouth closed. No, he hadn’t changed. Beauty meant everything to him. She could imagine the look of repugnance on his face if he ever saw her leg. She couldn’t handle that, not from John. And she swore she wouldn’t.

“No. Nothing’s wrong with that, but it gives you a limited view on the world,” Clarisse explained, her voice rising. “There are other things out there that are ugly and hideous. But they have a purpose or necessity. Just because—” She broke off when John looked at her oddly. She shrugged and lapsed into silence. She’d been raving like a lunatic.

Clarisse searched for a safe topic. “So, do you still live over on Johnston Street?” she asked, though she already knew the answer. At a weak moment, a few months after their breakup, she had dialed his home and found the line no longer in service.

“No. I bought a place not far from there. It’s not very big. A townhouse. Just enough room for one person. It’s not what I envisioned for myself. I’d always thought—” John shook his head, then shrugged. “What about you? You’re not still living in the top of that old Victorian house, are you?” A sudden dimple formed in his right cheek as he smiled across the table at her. His teeth gleamed even and white, a dentist’s optimal example of good hygiene. “That landlady—and I use that term loosely—was a character. Every time I turned around, I swear she was watching me from the side yard or one of the windows.”

Clarisse’s lips curved. “I think she had a crush on you. Why else would she use any little excuse to come by?” Her smile turned rueful. “She wasn’t that bad, but it was just as well I had to move out. She had a tendency to be a little too forceful and domineering.”

“What do you mean that you
had
to? She didn’t evict you, did she?”

“No, of course not!” She pulled back from the table. What a stupid slip. She couldn’t very well tell him she moved out because she couldn’t walk up and down the stairs to her rooms any longer, now could she? “Her niece moved to New York because of a scholarship. She needed a place to stay, and my lease was running out. Everything seemed to fit.” One white lie wouldn’t hurt anyone. The woman did have a niece going to college. “I’m living in a house with a large yard and minutes from Jennifer’s place. It’s peaceful. It reminds me of those picnics we used to have over at—”

The dimple in his cheek disappeared, and his eyes cooled to the color of overcast, wintry skies. The smile on her own face dissolved. She was really blubbering today. Maybe she should just shut up.

She dropped her gaze to the table and focused on the silverware by her hand. She fingered the metal with trembling hands and glanced to where Vivian had disappeared. What was the woman doing in there—other than the obvious? She opened the menu lying by her side and hid behind it. She perused the available items. Pictures of thick juicy hamburgers, steaks, buttered potatoes turned her stomach. She didn’t think she could hold down anything solid. After a couple of minutes of hiding and no sign of Vivian, she put down the menu. “I think I’ll freshen up too. If the waiter comes by while I’m gone, I’ll have the Chef’s salad and a diet soda.”

She escaped the table and John’s relieved look. Teeth clenched, she strode through the tables without limping. She found Vivian leaning across the sink, looking into the mirror and dabbing a paper towel beneath her eye. When Vivian caught sight of Clarisse’s reflection, she snapped the faucet closed with a bang and tossed the towel in the trash. She tore angrily at another sheet from the paper towel dispenser.

“What’s wrong?” Clarisse asked.

“I can’t find my make-up bag anywhere. There’s no way I can travel for days without my paint.”

Clarisse nodded, finding it odd to get so emotional over a missing makeup bag. Not knowing what to say, she kept silent.

After drying her hands, Vivian tossed her mangled paper towel into the waste bin. She then turned, leaned a hip across the counter, and regarded Clarisse with narrowed blue eyes. “You’ve met John before today, haven’t you?”

Clarisse dragged in a breath of air and rubbed tiredly at her brow. She didn’t feel up to dealing with a confrontation. “Yes.”

“And what?”

Spine stiffening at Vivian’s antagonistic stance, Clarisse retorted, “And nothing. John and I might have had something once, but it was a long time ago. I doubt if we have anything in common now, so you can stop worrying about me encroaching into your territory.”

Vivian shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come across bitchy.”

“That’s okay,” Clarisse said. “It’s already forgotten.”

“It’s just that he never talks about his old friends or much of anything when it comes to his past. Has he always been like that?”

Clarisse’s breathing grew shallow. Her hand gripped the counter. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss John.

“I don’t know,” Clarisse said in frustration. She stepped into the stall and closed the door to halt further discussion. When she heard the door close from Vivian, she inhaled a shaky breath and tried to calm down.

****

The rest of the day was long and tiring. After so many hours in the confines of the Explorer, even Vivian found little to talk about. Dinner turned out to be a burger from a fast food chain, which suited Clarisse. If it meant getting to San Diego sooner, then she was all for it.

It was almost eleven by the time they reached the motel for the night. Keeping her leg in one position for hours had turned her thigh and calf into a throbbing mass of raw nerves. The pain shortened her temper, and she feared any little upset would turn her into a snarling lunatic.

So it came as a great relief to discover her room next to John and Vivian’s was on the ground floor. John, ever a gentleman, carried the women’s overnight bags. After he dropped hers by her door, everyone said their good-byes and separated for the night.

Clarisse flipped on the light and closed her door. Two queen-sized beds took up most of the room. A white Formica table and two chairs sat in the corner. The place looked sterile. She dropped her night case on the floor by the closest bed and limped into the bathroom. Leaning against the cabinet sink, she splashed cold water on her face and looked in the mirror. The harsh fluorescent light from overhead magnified the dark smudges under her eyes and the pallor of her complexion. She looked like a two-day-old corpse. No wonder John and Vivian kept asking her if she was sick. She would have to slap a ton of makeup on her face tomorrow morning if she wanted to look anywhere near human.

She retrieved her nightgown from her bag. The red silk material sensually caressed her skin as it slid down over her body and fell to her ankles. She hugged herself. It had been a long time since a man had held, kissed, and caressed her. Since...

Someone knocked on her door. “It’s me, John.”

Quickly, she rummaged in the case for her dressing gown and shrugged into the sleeves. Only when she cinched the belt and insured her scarred leg was concealed, did she open the door with unsteady fingers. “Is something wrong?”

John rested a hand along the door’s jam, stretching the fabric of his shirt across the wide breadth of his chest. His gaze roamed slowly over her gown. “I’m running by the nearest grocery store. Did you need anything?”

Tugging self-consciously at the ties of her belt, Clarisse tried to ignore the double meaning of his question. Her gaze slid over the leather belt slung around his narrow hips, then up over his flat belly, to his muscular forearms and shoulders. His white t-shirt contrasted with the dark hue of his flesh. Suddenly, she recalled how he looked without clothing. She remembered the expanse of his tanned chest, all taut muscle and smooth skin. Her breathing grew shallow as she met his gray eyes.

“No.”

John nodded, but he didn’t move from the door. “I guess Vivian can’t go a day without makeup. I didn’t want her going alone. It’s too dangerous driving around at night in an unfamiliar city.”

Clarisse stiffened. For a second, she’d forgotten about Vivian and the past. “Isn’t she kind of young for you?”

“Why—starting to feel your age?”

Clarisse felt the blood drain from her face.

Thrusting his hair from his brow, John shook his head and frowned darkly across the short distance between them. “That was uncalled for, and I apologize. But I don’t have the ability to forget so easily. Today, I’ve tried to be as civil as possible. It’s been difficult. Believe me. Every time I look at you I remember the way you walked out. A damn letter—with no explanation or regret. It was waiting for me when I got back from Brazil; it told me just how much you thought of our relationship.”

Clarisse opened her mouth, then closed it. What was the point of arguing? It was the truth.

John swung around and called over one shoulder. “Meet us out at the car at 7:00, and don’t be late. We’ve got a long way to go tomorrow.”