Twice in a Lifetime (12 page)

“Eddie, I think we should—”

But Clara’s words fell on deaf ears; the banker was lost in thought, rambling out loud. “Everyone in this town thought my father was a saint,” he grumbled. “But that couldn’t be further from the truth. He was an overbearing tyrant who didn’t want his own son to share in his success!”

Listening to Eddie rant as he grew more and more agitated, Clara took a small, scarcely noticeable step toward the door. Outside, the sun was slowly descending, though darkness was still hours away. She silently prayed that someone might walk past, notice them, understand the situation, and offer her a chance at salvation. Because if he took her to his office, far from prying eyes…

Eddie had started to pace back and forth, still carrying on. “I’ve often imagined how different things would be with my own son, how I would respect and encourage him at every turn instead of tearing him down!”

Abruptly, Eddie stopped, turned, and rushed over to Clara, grabbing her by the arms. “You want to have more children, don’t you?” he blurted, squeezing her hard enough to make her wince in pain.

Clara was too shocked to answer.

“Don’t worry,” Eddie added. “I promise that I’ll treat Tommy as if he was my very own! With a bassinet full of babies, we’ll make one big, happy family!” With every word he squeezed tighter, until Clara cried out in agony, shrugging her shoulders to escape his grip. That seemed to break the spell Eddie was under; he blinked rapidly, as if coming out of a trance. Sweat beaded his brow.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Clara,” he offered. Tentatively, he again reached out to touch her, his fingers brushing against her cheek; she trembled in response, realizing that there was no contact with Eddie that wouldn’t repulse her. “Thinking about our future excites me so.”

Clara fought back tears, fearful that Eddie would mistake them for romantic inclination; he did, smiling at the sight of them.

“Why don’t we go to my office?” he asked. “We can have a drink, relax. There’s plenty for us to talk about.”

Once again, he grabbed her, holding her wrist; his grip wasn’t as strong as before, but it was hard enough to make it clear she had little choice in the matter.

Clara didn’t know what to do.

Should she scream?

Should she fight, clawing and scratching to get away?

Or should she give in and stop risking what little her family had left?

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the bank’s door.

Startled, both Clara and Eddie jumped at the sound. Clara’s eyes grew wide in amazement and disbelief. There, peering through the glass, his fist poised to strike the door again, was Drake McCoy.

How…how could it be…?

“We’re closed,” Eddie said in a loud voice.

But Drake didn’t move. His eyes remained locked on Clara. Once again, he pounded the door, the sound sharp and loud.

“Come back tomorrow!” the banker shouted.

In answer, Drake hit the glass, harder than before. With his other hand, he pulled at the door, rattling it in its frame.

Realizing that the stranger wasn’t going to leave, Eddie let go of Clara’s wrist and went to the door. Fumbling with the key, he finally managed to yank it open. Clara assumed that the banker would act all important, but Drake never gave him the chance; he pushed his way inside, barging past Eddie and walking straight toward her.

“Wh-what do you think you’re doing?” Eddie demanded.

But Drake still wasn’t listening. When he reached Clara, he took her by the hands; this time, she welcomed being touched.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I am now.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Drake said.

Hand in hand, they headed for the door. For a moment, Eddie looked as if he intended to step in front of them, to keep Clara from leaving, but then he appeared to notice how much bigger Drake was and decided to back down. Unfortunately, his mouth kept protesting.

“Clara? Clara, where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“Away from here,” Drake snarled, making the banker take a quick step back.

Without another word, they were out the door.

Drake had saved her.

W
HAT WAS ALL
that about?”

Clara walked beside Drake as they made their way from the bank. Her heart raced. She couldn’t believe what had just happened, that she was no longer with Eddie, trapped behind a locked door. For an instant, she wondered what the consequences might be, worrying that she could even be fired, but Clara quickly put that out of her mind. All that mattered was that she was safe.

“It was nothing,” she fibbed.

“That didn’t look like nothing to me.”

“What are you doing here?” Clara said, desperate to change the topic. “I thought you were leaving town.”

“I was supposed to,” Drake admitted. “But things changed a bit unexpectedly. I can’t say for certain how much longer I’ll be here, likely no more than another day or two, but as soon as I knew I was staying, I came looking for you. All day, you were all I could think about.” He looked at her intently, his eyes searching for her reaction.

“I know what you mean,” she said. “I feel the same way…”

Drake stopped walking; when Clara did the same, he stepped closer. Out on Sunset’s streets, she knew people would be watching, wondering who this stranger was and what she was doing with him, but she didn’t care. Right now, nothing else mattered but what he had to say.

“Ever since you ran away, all I’ve wanted to do was apologize,” Drake explained. “I was having such a good time with you that I let myself get carried away. By being so forward, I put you in a tough spot. It was all my fault.”

Clara shook her head. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I’m sorry all the same.”

They stood in silence for a while. Slowly, a smile spread across Drake’s face.

“I have an idea,” he said.

“What is it?”

His expression grew mischievous. “Do you trust me?”

After everything that he’d done for her, from helping her fix her truck, to coming to her aid with Eddie, and even to trying to take the responsibility for what had happened the night before, she knew that she did.

Clara nodded.

“Then let me make it up to you.” Drake pointed farther down the street to a car parked against the curb. It was black, sleek, and powerful-looking, even though it was coated with dust. “Let me take you for a ride,” he said. “You can show me around Sunset, and we can talk. What do you say?”

She looked from him to the car and then back again. His eyes searched her face; she could see how badly he wanted her to agree. Slowly, like a door opening on rusty hinges, Clara decided to take a chance. She thought of her mother’s words the night before, about how she might as well reach for happiness, even when it came from somewhere completely unexpected.

“Are you planning on driving really fast?” Clara asked.

Drake grinned. “Only if you want me to.”

And so she agreed.

Drake followed Clara’s directions and drove down Main Street. Businesses soon gave way to rows of houses, but within minutes those too began to dwindle. The Plymouth bumped over railroad tracks, then sped away from Sunset and into the countryside. There, things moved at a different pace than in town, slower yet pleasant. The growl of the car’s engine echoed off the thick trunks and broad boughs of the trees lining the road. A flock of birds, startled by their passing, furiously flapped their wings as they rose into the light of the setting sun; Clara had to shield her eyes to watch their flight. Drake honked at a farmer out in his field preparing that season’s crops; the man waved from his tractor.

“That’s a hard life,” Drake said, nodding at the man and his farm. “At least it was back when I was the one living it.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

“Not once since the day I left.”

The wind teased at Clara’s hair, forcing her to keep pulling it from her face, but she had no desire to roll up her window. The air was crisp and full of the smells of spring, from the sweet aroma of the wildflowers that filled the ditches to the pungent stink of manure. Above the whistling wind, she could hear the radio, the faint voice of a woman singing about heartbreak.

They drove over rickety bridges, around sharp corners, and up and down hills; on one steep incline, Drake worked the gears so smoothly that Clara could hardly feel them shift.

“You do that well,” she observed, nodding at his hand.

“Lots of practice,” he replied. “I’ve spent so much time behind the wheel of a car, I reckon I could do this in my sleep. Heck, most nights I probably do, pressing down on the clutch with my foot, one hand turning the steering wheel while the other works the shift, all of it under the covers.”

His joke made them fill the car with laughter.

Clara couldn’t help but notice how at ease Drake made her feel. Listening to him talk, no matter whether he was making fun of himself, offering her his heartfelt apologies, or even snarling protectively the way he had at Eddie, she found herself captivated. She wanted to know everything about him.

But if Clara was being honest with herself, it didn’t hurt that she found him so handsome. Bouncing in the passenger’s seat, she watched as sunlight streamed through the windshield and lit up his face. She noticed the small lines around his mouth and eyes, made all the more pronounced because he was squinting into the setting sun, and understood that Drake was getting older. But then again, so was she…

“What is it?” Drake asked; he had caught her looking at him.

“Nothing,” she answered, looking away. Clara knew she was blushing; all she could hope was that with the sun in his eyes, he didn’t notice.

Eventually, Clara directed him around a short bend, up a small rise, and then to stop next to a withered old tree, its empty branches so broad they spread out and over the road. Drake did as she asked, looked all around them, narrowed his eyes in curiosity, and then said, “So what now?”

She pointed out the window. The road stretched before them. From where they sat with the Plymouth’s engine idling rhythmically, it slowly descended, running between fields of wild grass, looking endless. Far ahead, several miles at least, it curved out of sight.

“I want to know what it’s like to ride in a race car,” she said.

Drake turned to look at her, one forearm draped over the steering wheel, the other rising to lay across the top of their seat; his fingertips brushed against Clara’s shoulder; the slight touch made her skin tingle.

“I thought you were joking,” he said.

“What you do for a living sounds exciting to me.”

“It’s also dangerous.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing for me that you’ll be doing the driving,” Clara responded with a sly smile.

“All right,” Drake said, grabbing the stick shift and putting the Plymouth into gear. “Just remember, you asked for this.”

From the instant Drake pressed down on the gas pedal, Clara’s excitement rose as steadily as their speed. In a matter of seconds, the Plymouth was rushing down the hill, gravel crunching loudly beneath its tires. Deftly, Drake shifted from first to second gear, the engine growing louder as its pistons pounded, its belts turned, and its fuel burned. Outside her open window, the countryside started to race by, the purples, yellows, and reds of the wildflowers spotting the ditches beginning to blur together.

“You sure you want to do this?” Drake asked with a grin.

Clara nodded, her heart pounding.

Before she knew it, they had moved all the way to fourth gear. Clara gasped as the Plymouth began to shudder. One hand dug into the seat beside her leg, while the other gripped the door frame; she squeezed them both so hard that her knuckles turned white.

By now, they had reached the bottom of the hill and were moving faster than Clara had ever gone in all her life. The wind whipped violently through their windows, causing her hair to fly in every direction; it was so strong that it even tugged at her clothing. She looked behind them and saw that they were kicking up an enormous cloud of dust. It was so exciting that she grinned from ear to ear.

The Plymouth hurtled forward, its engine roaring. Drake’s hands held the steering wheel tight; thick cords of muscle stood out on his forearms. Clara was amazed at how effortlessly he kept the car steady, mastering the terrific speed at which they moved. She wondered what it was like for him to race other cars, against other drivers willing to drive just as dangerously as he did now. As she watched him, he glanced over at her.

“Are you having fun yet?” He shouted in order to be heard.

She nodded, her eyes a bit wide, the sight of which made him laugh.

Suddenly, Clara felt as if all her troubles had fallen away. Feeling bold, she leaned out the window; the full force of the wind struck her face and sent her hair sailing out behind her. Clara closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the setting sun on her skin. Somehow, even though the Plymouth was speeding forward, everything in motion, it felt as if this moment would forever be frozen in time, like a picture to be framed and cherished. Drake had already done so much for her, but this was yet another gift, a memory she knew she would never forget.

And so, even as Drake took his foot off the gas, the car imperceptibly beginning to slow as the sharp curve approached ahead, Clara tipped back her head and began to shout with joy as loudly as she could.

“I don’t know when I last saw something so beautiful.”

Clara nodded in agreement.

Once they had finished racing down the long stretch of road, Clara’s pulse still beating fast, she had directed Drake back the way they had come; they drove down dirt roads, crossed bridges, passed through thick woods, and climbed up into the hills southeast of Sunset. Finally, with the sun still a good hour from the horizon, they entered a clearing that looked over the town, the river, and miles of countryside.

They got out of the car, climbed the front bumper, and sat on the Plymouth’s warm hood. For ten minutes, neither of them had said a word; instead they watched as a gentle breeze stirred the tall grass all around them. Brilliant sunlight reflected off the slowly moving river. A boat chugged against the current, dark smoke puffing from its stack. A flock of geese winged their way north, passing close enough for their honking to reach Clara and Drake. It was as if they were looking at a work of art, priceless because it was so very real.

“I don’t know what could be better than this,” Drake said.

“You should see it in the fall. When the leaves change color and the sun is on the water, everything as far as you can see is bright orange and gold.”

“Is this how the town got its name?”

Clara shook her head. “I’m not sure. My husband used to say that…” she started, but then stopped.

This was the second time she had mentioned Joe to Drake, and it felt uncomfortable, even a little unfair. After everything he’d done for her, she was certain that the last thing Drake wanted was to hear about a man who had been dead for more than nine years.

But then Drake surprised her. “What was his name?” he asked.

Clara’s heart again started to pound, although this time it wasn’t because of excitement. “Joe,” she answered softly.

“What was he like?”

She turned to face him; just like before in the Plymouth, the bright sun illuminated his face, which did nothing to slow her pulse. She offered him a faint smile. “You don’t want to know any of that.”

“Sure I do,” Drake answered. He stared back at her, his dark eyes unwavering, his expression compassionate yet strong. “It’s clear that he meant a lot to you, that he still does. If I’m going to get to know you better, then I want to hear all about him.” He paused. “Please. Tell me.”

And so, a bit reluctantly, Clara took a deep breath and began to speak of her life with Joe Sinclair. She told him how they’d met, how their first date had been at the movies, to see a comedy whose name she could never remember, and about how she had known, even then, that he was special. Soon, she’d warmed up and the memories came quickly: their wedding; building their home; Tommy’s birth; and even the day, just after the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor, when Joe had enlisted in the army. She found herself talking about things she hadn’t for a very long time, not even to her mother. When she told him a funny story, Drake laughed right along with her.

“Sounds like your husband was a great guy,” Drake said, his words completely genuine. “It’s easy to see why you miss him.”

Clara felt tears well up in her eyes, but she didn’t want to cry, not here, not now. “How about you?” she asked. “Has there ever been someone special in your life?”

Drake chuckled, but it sounded forced. “Not anyone that mattered, and certainly not like what you had with Joe.”

“Surely there was somebody…”

“When I was younger, sure, there were a few women who were with me for a while, but the life of a race car driver, going from town to town, never really knowing where you’ll be from one day to the next, it’s not a life worth sharing. Traveling with Amos is one thing,” he explained with a smile, “but there aren’t many ladies who are keen on bouncing around in the backseat while speeding down roads you can’t find on any map.”

Drake paused, his eyes staring far away. “Can I confess something to you?” he asked. “A thought that’s been on my mind lately?”

“You can tell me anything,” Clara replied.

He smiled, clearly pleased by her answer. “I don’t know how much longer I want to do this,” he explained. “Nowadays, it seems like whenever I run a race, I look over and the other driver is some pimply-faced kid who was probably in diapers the first time I got behind the wheel. Hell, it happened just this morning.”

Clara’s eyes widened. “You had a race today?”

He nodded.

“Did you win?”

Drake chuckled loudly. “Nope,” he said. “Amos thought it’d be easy, but it sure didn’t work out that way. Not by a mile.”

“Why not? Your car seems awfully fast to me.”

“Speed is a part of racing, but a car is only as good as the man driving it, and today I wasn’t worth squat. I reckon I had too much on my mind.”

He means me…and what happened between us last night…