Jackrabbit Junction Jitters (3 page)

“Maybe your mom will let you drive the old Ford to school.”

Jess glanced at the curtain that separated them from the rec
room. “It’s not for school,” she whispered. “I need it to drive to Cleveland.”

Oh, Cleveland. Right.

Claire mentally shook her head at the girl’s naiveté. Jess’s
father lived in Cleveland with his new wife and kids. According to the last
letter he’d sent, he had no room in his home or his life for Jess—not that he
ever had. The piece of shit only paid child support because Ruby had dragged
the Arizona courts into the mess.

Jess wasn’t the only one who’d rather be a thousand miles
away from Jackrabbit Junction today. Claire was tempted to offer the kid a ride
to Cleveland right this moment. Although, she didn’t really buy that Jess would
run away from her mother, the only sure thing the girl had had since sticking
her head out of the womb.

“When do you plan on leaving?” Claire took a bite of a
Twinkie, chasing the sweet cake with a swallow of soda.

Jess shrugged. “Soon. After Mom marries Harley, she’s
probably not going to want me around here anymore.”

A tried and true drama-princess, Jess could make flossing
her teeth a three-act play with a curtain call to boot. “You think Ruby will be
so busy throwing parties and tasting expensive wines that she won’t have much
time for you?”

“Probably.” Jess leaned toward Claire as if she had inside
information on Area 51. “She’s already making me go through my old clothes and
box up the stuff I don’t wear anymore.”

“Ah, she has a hidden agenda, huh?” Ruby was undoubtedly
trying to make room for Gramps and the seventy years of accumulated baggage
that came with him.

“Why else would she want to get rid of my old toys? Shouldn’t
she want to keep them around to cry over after I go off to college?”

“Sure. Most mothers love to sit around and cry over their
children.” Claire bit back a grin. “So, when are you leaving?” she asked again,
hoping like hell that Jess didn’t decide to take off on Claire’s watch. She
didn’t need any extra stress over the next few weeks. Her mother would provide
plenty, free of charge—if Claire decided to stick around, that was.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll just tell my mom.”

“Have I ever spilled one of your secrets to anyone?” Claire
often straddled the fence between Ruby and Jess, sometimes so much that she
felt saddle-sore for days.

“Well, no.” Jess’s eyes narrowed. “Not that I know of.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. I mean, I’d really
like you to go along. We could be like those two old women in that movie my mom
loves—the one the Lifetime channel plays over and over—where they picked up
Brad Pitt, back before he got old, and then drove off the edge of the Grand
Canyon. Only we wouldn’t drive off the edge of a canyon or anything, just
cruise together all the way to Cleveland; that is if Mac doesn’t mind you going
with me. Do you think he would let you go with me?”

Claire blinked, then blinked again, momentarily baffled by
Jess’s lung capacity.

“Go with you where, honey?” Ruby asked in her soft, Oklahoma
drawl as she breezed through the olive curtain. Like her daughter, her red
ringlets were pulled back in a ponytail, but Ruby had bangs, the uncooperative
curly kind. “Mornin’, Claire. Your grandfather is looking for you.”

“Why?” Claire crammed the last of the Twinkie in her mouth,
chewing over the possible reasons Gramps might want to see her.

She couldn’t help but be suspicious after the bomb he’d
dropped on her yesterday. If he wanted help making a Welcome Wagon basket for her
mother, he’d better think again. Claire hoped to be halfway to Tucson when her
mom crawled out of the car.

As Ruby walked past Claire, Jess stuffed her book under the
counter. With her suddenly red cheeks, the kid was the poster girl for Guilty
Teens Anonymous.

Ruby paused in mid-stride. “What are you hiding, child?”

“Nothing.” Jess inspected a scratch in the counter.

“Dang it, Jess. If you’re gonna lie, at least make it
believable.” Ruby leaned over the counter and pulled out the book.

“Mom!” Jess’s voice reached decibel levels that would make
Henry howl.

Ruby’s face clouded over as she read the title. She tossed
the book on the counter, glaring at Jess. “How many times do I have to tell you
that I don’t want you getting a job right now? I need you here, helping with
the store until school starts. After that, you need to focus on your homework.”

“I can do what I want! I’m almost sixteen, you know, old
enough to earn more than just an allowance for working here. It’s time you
started treating me like an adult.”

With tears clinging to her eyelashes, Jess stomped off, plowing
through the curtain so hard that one side of the rod pulled free.

Groaning, Ruby rubbed her forehead. “That girl is going to
land me in a straitjacket, I swear.”

Claire walked over and snapped the rod back into place. The
soft curtain brushed against her bare arms, the velvet smelling like cigar
smoke and the wax Ruby used to polish the wood floor.

“Do you want me to take her back to Tucson for a week?” Or
three?

“Thanks, but no. I need your help here, patching up my back
fence and convincing your mother that I’m not fixin’ to steal your grandfather’s
money.”

Claire turned around. Behind Ruby’s half-hearted smile,
worry etched her face. Guilt warmed Claire’s ears at her plan of leaving Ruby
alone to face off with the Wicked Witch of the West, but her feet still itched
to run—fast and far.

“Is Deborah really as bad as Harley and you make her out to
be?”

“Of course not,” Claire lied with a straight face.

From what Claire had witnessed since her arrival yesterday
afternoon, wedding preparations and Jess’s threat to find another job had Ruby’s
head spinning. She didn’t need to know that Claire’s mother was more dangerous
than a belligerent mother bear when it came to protecting Gramps’s money.

“Good.” Ruby’s smile looked fragile. She placed her palm on
Claire’s arm and squeezed gently. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to have you
here with me while your mom is in town.”

Claire’s heart plummeted. “Yeah, about that.” She tried to
think of a way to let Ruby down easily.

“I wanted you to be my maid of honor, but Jess would turn me
in to child protective services if I didn’t choose her.”

No fair! Claire wanted to cry, feeling like she was being
tied up and left on the railroad tracks. “Oh. Well, I, uh …”

“I couldn’t ask for a sweeter granddaughter.” Ruby’s green
eyes welled.

Claire abandoned all plans of escape at the sight of Ruby’s
tears. She’d never seen Ruby cry, not even when Jess accidentally slammed the
pickup door on her finger. The woman had a backbone made of titanium.

“Ruby, you’re exactly who our family needs,” Claire said,
thinking of her mother’s lack of a human heart.

She was going to see her mother. Shit. Claire needed a
cigarette. “Weren’t you saying something about Gramps looking for me?”

“Uh-huh.” Ruby opened the cash drawer and grabbed several
twenties. “He wants you to ride with him to Yuccaville to get front tires for
the old Ford.” She handed Claire the cash with a grin, all signs of tears gone.
“He’s so funny.”

Gramps and funny were not two words Claire usually included
in the same sentence. Maybe sarcastic. Definitely argumentative. “What makes
you say that?”

“Last night, he bet me that you’d scurry back to Tucson
before mornin’ light to keep from seeing your mom.”

“That Gramps.” Claire stuffed the bills in her back pocket,
realizing she’d just been royally conned into staying. “He’s a real cutup.”

* * *

“Come on, Mom,” Kate Morgan said as she waited alone in her
black Volvo outside of Biddy’s Gas and Carryout.

The air conditioner protected her from the waves of heat
rising from the asphalt, but the noontime sun blazed through the windows, threatening
to melt her steering wheel.

Across the parking lot a building with Wheeler’s Diner
painted on the sign overhead stood empty, fading in the sun. A raven picked at
the remains of something furry that had been flattened and then dragged through
the gravel.

On the other side of the road sat what must be a hardware
store and feed store all rolled into one. Bulging burlap bags, wood-handled pickaxes,
and green wheelbarrows lined the sidewalk under the Creekside Supply Company
overhang. The store next to it must have gone out of business. The big plate
glass windows were empty except for the real estate sign taped to one of them.

Jackrabbit Junction lived up to its name. Kate expected to
see a jackrabbit hop by any moment.

Movement at Biddy’s double doors drew her gaze back to the
carryout. A cowboy walked by her front bumper, a grocery sack in one hand, a
bag of potting soil in the other. His suntanned arms were chiseled, but not
bulging. His cowboy hat sat low on his forehead, his face carved by the sun and
wind. Reddish blond hair ended at the collar of his navy T-shirt. As he passed
her window, his dark blue eyes caught her staring. His lips creased in a smile
and he gave her a quick nod.

Kate looked away, her cheeks warm despite the cool air
blowing from her vent. In her side mirror, she watched him stride across the
parking lot: his long legs covered in jeans, his boots worn at the back of the
heel, his butt …

Someone rapped on the passenger side window.

Kate jerked, knocking her knee on the underside of the dash.
“Ow, damn!” She rubbed her kneecap.

“Unlock the door, Kathryn. Hurry up before I wilt!”

Kate hit the button that unlocked the door. She grimaced at
the gush of heat that whooshed into the car, along with an eye-watering whiff
of sandalwood and jasmine as Deborah Morgan dropped into the passenger seat.

“What did you do in there, Mom? Bathe in your Chanel No. 5?”

“That was one of the most disgusting bathrooms I’ve ever
seen.” Deborah’s nose wrinkled as she fished a Kleenex from her purse. “Apparently,
they haven’t heard of bleach in this part of the country.”

Kate rolled her eyes. After driving over 1000 miles cooped
up with her mother, who had bitched non-stop about the cost of gas, Kate’s need
to speed, and Gramps marrying some floozy, Kate couldn’t wait to drown her
sorrows in a big bottle of vodka.

“You could’ve waited until we got to Ruby’s place. It’s just
a couple of miles up the road.” Kate shifted into reverse, looked in her
rearview mirror, and watched the cowboy jaywalk across the highway.

“That wouldn’t be very polite, now would it? Introducing
myself and then immediately asking to use her facilities.” Deborah sniffed and
adjusted her silk blouse. “Besides, I doubt her restroom is any cleaner.”

Kate sighed. “Mom, we talked about this already.”

“What? That wasn’t an insult. It was just speculation.”

“Quit splitting hairs. Why can’t you just keep an open mind
about this woman? She might actually be in love with Gramps.”

“I seriously doubt that. She’s almost twenty years his
junior, you know.”

“So you’ve said.” Over and over again. With her jaw
clenched, Kate rolled onto the highway.

What had she been thinking when she volunteered to drive her
mother to the wedding? Deborah’s exaggerated fear of flying and night blindness
claim had played major roles in Kate’s self-imposed guilt trip. But after the
first few hours of her mom ranting constantly about Gramps’s fiancée, Claire’s
boyfriend, and Kate’s canceled engagement to the man Deborah had hand-picked,
Kate had made the steering wheel lopsided from squeezing it like a vice.

She had a feeling that her mom was focusing extra hard on
what was wrong with everyone else’s life so that she didn’t have to think about
her own failures and the divorce papers she’d signed last week. Fortunately,
her mother didn’t know Kate had quit her job as a teacher last month, or she
would’ve been the only one roasting on the end of a stick for most of the miles.

Hitting her blinker, Kate stopped at Jackrabbit Junction’s
only intersection. Off the side of the road, a billboard advertised the Dancing
Winnebagos R.V. Park.

She idled, waiting for a semi to pass from the other
direction, and noticed the cowboy crossing a parking lot filled with a handful
of dusty cars and pickups in front of a cedar-planked building. The sign out
front read, THE SHAFT. Kate watched his long legs, chewing on her lower lip,
remembering how blue his eyes had been.

“Kathryn! What are you waiting for?”

Kate blinked and hit the gas.

“You remind me of your father—speeding all of the time and
not paying attention to others on the road.”

One more complaint about her driving from the woman next to
her and Kate was going to park the car and make her mother walk the last mile
to the R.V. park—pleated pants, Gianfranco Ferré pumps, pantyhose, and all.
With any luck, her mom would melt before reaching Ruby’s place and the wedding
would go off without a hitch.