Dixie Browning - A Knight In Rusty Armor

“They tried to pull it out,” Trav was saying. “Your car? I’m talking about your car.” He had an earth-to-Ru look in his eyes, so she stopped silently damning the used-car dealer and mentally counting her money, and tried to look attentive.

“Like I said, they hooked her up. and tried to haul her out, but she started coming apart They tried digging, but you know how quicksand is.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not interested in learning about quicksand, I just want my car back. In good running condition. There was nothing wrong with it when we left it except that it wasn’t running.”

He said something about a yellow blob rising above the dunes that didn’t register. She stared at his hair. It was cut too short and turning gray. Prematurely, judging from the rest of him. He was weathered, whipcord tough, but he wasn’t old. She was still studying his irregular features when his words sunk in.

“That’s not possible,” she said flatly. “I left it parked on the highway. You were there—you saw where I left it. It couldn’t possibly sink right through the pavement.”

“Yeah, well—these things have a way of happening. First one wave cuts through the dunes, and then a few more pile in behind it, widening the gap. First thing you know, the road’s undermined and whatever happens to be there gets dislodged and starts sinking when the sand traps more water than it can absorb ”

“Well, do something! Cars can’t just disappear!”

“It didn’t disappear. Like I said, it’s still there, only it’s buried up to the rearview mirror. They’ll probably bulldoze it out once they start repairing the road. I’m sorry, Ru. I’ll be glad to drive you to Manteo to look for a new one once the road’s open again. Or you can wait and go with your friend. She might even be able to find you something down here, but I’d have it checked out by a mechanic first. This climate’s not too good on cars.”

Ru swallowed hard. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to panic. She’d already lost practically everything in the world she had to lose. What was one noisy, smelly, gas-swilling old junker in the grand scheme of things? At least she had her health back.

Trav watched the parade of emotions pass through those rainwater clear eyes of hers. The rims weren’t red now, they were only slightly pink. Her nose was no longer red, either. Pretty damned elegant, in fact, as noses went. As were the cheekbones. Sharon would have killed for cheekbones like that.

“You all right?” he ventured, after giving her tune to absorb the bad news.

She smiled. Actually smiled. He felt something shift inside him and chalked it up to the sugar toast. He wasn’t much for sweets. Now and then he might buy himself a cake or a pie when the ladies had a bake sale, but only to help out the cause. Basically he was a meat-and-potatoes man.

“It looks as if I’ll have to ask you for one more favor. Could you possibly drive me to wherever Moselle lives? If she’s still not there, I’ll camp out on her doorstep until she shows up. I’m pretty sure it’s not going to rain anymore.”

He wouldn’t bet on it. He wouldn’t bet on her hooking up with her friend anytime soon, either. With tourist season expanding at both ends, February was about the only month the business community had to take a break.

“What’d you say your friend did at the restaurant? She owns it?”

“Not yet, but she hopes to. Right now she’s only the assistant manager.”

Before he could comment on that, the phone rang. He happened to be looking at her at the time. She covered it well, but he’d seen panic before. That was pure panic he saw in her eyes before her lids came down and she took a deep breath.

He reached for the phone, never taking his eyes off the woman sitting tensely on the edge of one of his three chairs. “Holiday,” he said. “Yeah. Sure, I don’t mind. No, it’s no trouble. Who? Kelli, what difference does it make? No, it has nothing to do with Matthew. Look, I’ll take care of it for you, all right?”

He hung up the phone, waiting for the questions to begin. Women. Were they all like this? Curious as cats, wanting to know everything about a man’s private life?

He’d liked to think it was due to jealousy, but any illusions he’d had along those lines had evaporated a long time ago. Before she could be jealous, a woman had to care. The only thing Sharon had ever been jealous of was what other women had that she couldn’t afford.

As for Kelli, she was too pretty to be jealous of anyone. His ego had taken more of a beating than he’d expected when she’d dumped him a week before the wedding date. Not that he’d let on. He’d never been one to show his feelings. It had been a mistake right from the first, thinking a wife might make it easier to stake his claim on his son.

He’d told her right up front about Matthew, but he’d told her that wasn’t the only reason he wanted to marry her. He liked her. Who wouldn’t? She was bright and pretty, popular with everyone who knew her. He couldn’t believe she’d even gone out with him, much less agreed to marry him, but she had. He’d just started on the house, and she’d been excited about moving into a brand-new house, although she’d have preferred something bigger, showier—preferably on the beach.

He could still see her, walking around the foundation, going on and on about rosebushes and stuff like that. She’d said she wanted white walls, so he told her he’d paint the paneling he’d already bought. Hell, she’d even picked out the countertop color in the kitchen. He’d figured gray, now he was stuck with pink. Pink, of all damn things.

It had been shortly after that, that things had started to slide downhill. Little things, at first. She claimed headaches. His calls went unreturned. There were quarrels about stuff that didn’t amount to a hill of beans.

Trav had never kidded himself about his attractiveness to women. When it came to looks, he was your basic, utility model male. He was healthy. He still had all his teeth. He had the standard allotment of features in approximately the right place, but they weren’t anything to get excited about.

On the other hand, kids liked him. Dogs liked him. When a date was required for a service-related function, he’d never had trouble rounding one up. He might have two left feet when it came to dancing—he might not be much of a partying man—but he could have learned if that was what Kelli wanted. She should have told him so.

Instead, she’d trumped up a quarrel and accused him of insensitivity. Of not being romantic. Of not being any fun. He would have tried his hand at being all of the above if she’d leveled with him about what she was looking for in a husband. He thought women wanted security in a marriage. Someone who would be there for them when the going got rough. That he could have done. He might not be much on frills, but he was good for the long haul.

For the next couple of hours, while Trav measured for window trim, his houseguest stayed holed up in the bedroom. He wondered if she was all right. The news about her car had hit her hard.

But then, that wasn’t the only thing bugging her. He’d had time to study her, even more time to think about her odd reactions. Something didn’t quite add up. He had the distinct impression she was afraid of something. Or someone. And while he didn’t profess to be the world’s greatest host, he didn’t think she was actually afraid of him.

He nailed up a board and reached for the next one, his mind busy thinking over his options. Did he pry a few answers out of her and try his hand at fixing whatever was wrong? Or did he pretend not to notice the occasional flare of panic in her eyes?

Who was she running from? What was she afraid of? Why had she come down here in the dead of winter, when she obviously wasn’t expected?