“Good. You’ve seen her?”
“Just on our virtual chats. We have them every month or so. It started as a book club but we rarely discuss books. Mostly we talk. Catch up on the years we missed. The chats are a fairly recent thing. Ever since the Cadillac started its trip across the country.”
Another string of questions zipped through my mind but rather than blurt them in rapid succession, I picked up my coffee and settled into the couch. “I think you’d better give me the long answer now.”
She laughed. “We might need more coffee.”
“For you? I’ll make all the pots in the world. I also have lemonade with lots and lots of ice.”
“You remember that too?”
Everything. “I remember everything.”
An hour later, I stared at Clara in amazement. There was no other word for her story. It was simply amazing.
“Handoffs. That’s . . . damn, that’s cool.”
“Right?” She’d been smiling for nearly the entire hour we’d talked. With every twist and turn of the Cadillac’s journey across the country, her smile seemed to widen.
And I kept on drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into those twinkling eyes and breathtaking smile.
“So Londyn’s in West Virginia,” I said. “Gemma and Kat in Montana. And you and Aria in Arizona.”
“Yep.” She nodded. “I don’t know if we would have come together again without that Cadillac. Maybe. I guess I like to hope so. But it’s been the catalyst. All because Londyn wants you to have it.”
“But I can’t take it.” I shook my head. “That car must have cost her a small fortune.”
“She doesn’t care about the money. She wants you to have it. You deserve that car. You were the one who made it safe for us to live at Lou’s. You stayed. You protected us.”
“It’s too much.”
“No, it’s not enough.” She shook her head. “Besides, I’m not taking it with me when we go home. And after you spend an hour or two behind the wheel, you’ll never let it go.”
I chuckled. “Should we go for a drive?”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Clara nudged August away from the game. “Gus, time for a break.”
“Okay, Mom.” He looked up at her with so much love and admiration. That kid worshiped his mother. Lucky guy. All kids deserved to have a mother like Clara.
We hadn’t gotten into much of her story yet. Or his. I hoped we would on the drive because while my curiosity was sated for the moment, the hunger to know everything about her would return.
I stood from the couch and collected her empty coffee mug. We’d been so into the story, I hadn’t needed a refill. I’d been glued to her every word. “Let me put these in the sink. I’ll meet you outside.”
With flip-flops on my feet and my wallet tucked into a pocket of my shorts, I found them in the driveway. August was already buckled into his car seat while Clara stood beside the passenger door. Her green shorts left her long, tanned legs on display. A white tee draped over her trim frame.
Beautiful. She’d only grown more beautiful.
She tossed me the keys with a smirk and popped open her door.
It was strange, getting behind the wheel of a car I’d once slept in for months. One glance at the backseat and I didn’t see white leather or August, but Londyn lounging against one side while I was against the other, our legs tangled.
Clara followed my gaze. “It’s hard not to see her back there, isn’t it?”
“We had a lot of good times in this car.”
“What’s that saying? You never forget your first love.”
My gaze shifted to her face.
Londyn hadn’t been mine. I was sure that Clara thought so, but Londyn had been a great girlfriend. A best friend. My first love? No. I’d thought so at the time but now, years later, after growing up, I knew the difference between affection and love.
“No, you don’t forget.”
When she turned my way, something crossed her face. Shock, maybe. Or was she back there with me, at the junkyard when we’d lain on the hood of this car to count shooting stars?
“Where are we going?” August asked.
I tore my eyes away from Clara’s soft lips and put the key into the ignition.
Clara cleared her throat. “Um, just for a drive.”
“Another drive,” he groaned. “For how long?”
“Short.” I turned and gave him a wink. “Promise.”
“I bet we could drive by the ocean again,” Clara said.
“Sure thing.” I started the engine, feeling the rumble and vibration of what had to be a state-of-the-art engine. “Ahh. She purrs. Like she always should have.”
“And she floats.” Clara dug a pair of sunglasses from her purse and slid them on, covering up those sparkling irises.
I fought the urge to take them from her face. I fought the swell in my chest—and behind my zipper.
Get your shit together, Avery. This should not be my reaction. It had to be history, right? Shock? That was the only explanation for why my head and my body were having such a hard time distinguishing the Clara from my memory and the Clara riding shotgun.
Shaking it off, I put the Cadillac in reverse and backed out of the driveway. I drove us to the highway, and as my foot pressed the gas pedal, I couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, yeah, she floats.”
“Told you.”
“Londyn’s never getting this car back.”
Clara giggled. “She thought you might say that.”
“I feel like an asshole for not keeping in touch.” Though I’d had my reasons. Or excuses.
“He said a bad word.” August sat up straight in his seat, but instead of a glare or scowl, he was grinning eagerly.
“Sorry.” I gave Clara an exaggerated frown.
“You owe him a quarter. He’s going to fund his college tuition off the bad language of the adults in his life, aren’t you, Gus?”
“Yep. I have three hundred twenty-seven dollars and fifty cents.”
“Wow.” I shifted in my seat, keeping one hand on the wheel so I could dig my wallet out of my shorts pocket with the other. By some miracle, there were three quarters inside the main fold. I plucked them out and passed them all back. “This is in case you bust me later today.”
“That’s what Uncle Brody does too. He calls it paying in advance.”
“Brody has supplied the bulk of that three hundred and twenty-seven dollars,” Clara said.
We drove for a few miles, letting the wind blow past us, but curiosity kept gnawing at me.
Where was August’s father? Why didn’t Clara have a ring on her finger? Had they met in Vegas? How long had she worked there? Why had she left? When?
Damn it, I shouldn’t have looked her up all those years ago. One ten-minute glimpse into her life on Facebook, and I’d been haunted by a string of pictures ever since. Those photos had taken on a life of their own in my imagination. I’d seen her with him. I’d seen her happy and free.
I’d lived with them and the envy that tainted them because in my mind, Clara had been happy. She was happy, right? She looked happy. So why were she and August here alone?