Carole Page - In Search Of Her Own

Too soon she looked away, breaking eye contact with the stranger, feeling suddenly self-conscious, almost flustered. The man’s amber eyes were so vivid, so penetrating; it was as if he could read her very soul. She walked on, shivering, pulling her long, hunter green cardigan tighter around her, her cold fingers burrowing into the marled, slubby yarns. It was nearly dusk, and the chill air was already invading her bones. The overcast sky promised rain. Lots of it. Weren’t April showers supposed to bring May flowers, not just more rain? Right now she wanted nothing more than to be at home in her little condominium, snuggling on the couch in her comfy flannel robe, sipping chamomile tea and watching the evening news on TV.

Unexpectedly, Victoria was aware of a sound behind her—heavy footsteps padding through the thick grass. She glanced around and felt a ripple of surprise. The stranger was striding her way, a shadowy form against the darkening skyline.

Victoria increased her pace, pretending not to notice him. Her automobile wasn’t far—the gray compact parked just outside the cemetery’s huge iron gate.

But the man’s gait also increased. She sensed him just behind her, his breathing nearly as audible as her own. She walked faster now, her pulse racing, her ankle nearly turning as her stacked heels sank into the grassy, uneven ground. You hear such awful stories all the time, she thought frantically, breaking into a run. Women alone attacked by strangers, psychotics, madmen; women foolhardy enough to venture alone into dangerous desolate places like this one…

A deep masculine voice behind her shouted, “Stop! Wait!”

Was he kidding? She wouldn’t give in without a fight. She bolted through the open iron gate, running to her car She glanced over her shoulder and saw him running after her Finally she reached the car. She leaned panting against the door. Now if only she could find her keys’ She looked down at her empty hands. Her purse-it was gone!

“Miss, I think this is what you’re looking for.” The stranger hovered over her, surely more than six feet to her five feet six inches. She caught the clean fragrance of his spicy after-shave and the minty warmth of his breath. He held out her handbag, managing an amused, crinkly smile “You dropped this back there in the grass “

She looked up at him, dazed, her pulse suddenly racing with something quite different from terror, and mumbled, “I did?”

“I’m sorry,” he continued, those mesmerizing eyes holding her captive. She couldn’t help noticing that he had an uncommonly handsome face, and at the moment he seemed almost to be enjoying her predicament. “I mean it,” he went on seriously “I really didn’t intend to frighten you “

She took the purse and with trembling fingers found her keys “That’s all right,” she murmured, fumbling with the lock. She opened the door and glanced back briefly. “I feel so foolish It’s just that this place can be a bit unnerving “

“Don’t I know it,” he said with a faint smile.

Feeling the need to say something more, she gazed up at the gray, drizzling sky and said, “This really isn’t the sort of day to be out, is it? It looks like it’s going to pour any minute now.”

His voice was warm, almost a confidential tone “I know Some weather for May, huh? I was hoping to beat the rain, but no such luck.”

She opened her palm to the sky “You’re right. It’s already starting I guess I’d better go.”

He nodded and flipped up the large fleecy collar of his leather jacket. “Drive safely,” he said, his candid brown eyes still boring into hers

As the first large drops fell, she gave him a fluttery wave and climbed into her car He returned the wave with a good-natured smile, then turned and walked quickly to his automobile. Victoria fastened her seat belt and turned the key in the ignition, but nothing happened. She tried again, and again, but there was only a dull click-click-click.

She heard a tap on her window and glanced over to see the stranger. “Release the hood and I’ll check it for you,” he told her.

A minute later he returned to her. “The water level in your battery’s down. The terminals are corroded. You’ll need a new battery.”

“Oh, great.” She sighed. “I’ll have to call the auto club.”

He leaned into the open window, his face close to her own. “I wish I had some jumper cables,” he said with an earnestness that touched her. “I’ll be glad to drive you to a gas station where you can make your call.”

She stiffened. “No, thank you. I—I really couldn’t impose.”

“Please, I insist. It goes against my gentlemanly instincts to leave a lady stranded in this downpour. I’d really like to help.” When she still looked doubtful, he offered a reassuring smile “I know what they say about riding in cars with strangers, but I assure you I’m harmless.”

Victoria weighed her options, and finally offered a noncommittal, “Thank you. I’d appreciate a ride.” She picked up her purse and followed the man to a sleek, metallic-red foreign sports car.

As he drove toward the business district of the city, he glanced over at her and said, “I suppose this would be a good time to introduce ourselves. I’m Phillip Anders.”

She smiled “I’m Victoria Carlin.”

“I’m glad to meet you, Victoria. Actually, I remember seeing you at the cemetery before.”

“Yes. I remember seeing you, too. It was Easter Sunday “

He flashed an ironic smile. “There has to be a better meeting place than Rest Haven.”

Victoria laughed faintly. She wasn’t quite sure how to take this unpredictable man, Phillip Anders. One moment he seemed brooding and introspective, the next he was making droll jokes and offering the most disarming smile.

They drove to a nearby filling station where Victoria made her call “It’ll be at least an hour or more before the tow truck can come,” she told Phillip when she returned to his car.

“All right,” he said. “I’m in no hurry. Before I take you back to your car, let’s stop by the little coffee shop next door.”

“Oh, no,” she protested. “You don’t have to wait with me.”

“I never leave a lady in distress.” Laugh lines appeared around his eyes. “Like I said, I want to make sure you aren’t stranded in this miserable weather.”

In the Dew Drop Inn, a waitress showed them to a corner booth just off the kitchen. Several yellowed western prints decorated the mauve walls and an antique coatrack stood nearby. Phillip hung up their coats, then they sat down and ordered coffee. “Hot and black,” he told the teenage waitress with backcombed, tangerine hair

Victoria shivered involuntarily “I didn’t realize how cold I was.”

“It shouldn’t be this cold in May. We’ve had enough winter.”

She nodded. “That’s how I feel. It seems as if winter has lasted for years,”

“It has,” he murmured thoughtfully. “And there’s no end in sight.”

“I have a feeling you’re not talking about the weather now.”

“No.” He paused. “Tell me, Miss Carlin—or is it Mrs.?”

She felt her face flush slightly “Miss.”

“Then that’s not your husband’s grave?”

“No. My mother’s.”

“I noticed two headstones.”

“My father died six years ago.”

“I’m sorry. I know how hard it is. I lost both my parents when I was young.”

“And now your wife,” she said softly

He nodded, a tendon tightening along his jawhne. “It’s been nearly a year. You’d think it would get easier.”

“She was so young. Do you mind my asking? Was it an accident?”

“Cancer. She never gave up. Bravest woman I ever knew.”

They were both silent for several moments, sipping their coffee. Finally, in a lighter tone, he asked, “Just what is it you do, Miss Carlin—other than frequent cemeteries, that is?”