7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

T hey stopped for dinner outside Nashville that night. “I’d take you into the city, but I have a feeling you’d never want to come back out, and my girls need me tonight,” Dottie said.

The restaurant Dottie chose served American comfort food and sported pictures of country greats, from Johnny Cash to Dolly Parton. Cleo didn’t recognize a lot of them, but Dottie seemed to know them all at a glance.

“How don’t you know any Loretta Lynn songs?” she asked when Cleo hadn’t recognized that name. Cleo shrugged and shoved a french fry into her mouth.

“She was sisters with Crystal Gayle. That woman had hair all the way to the floor,” she added. “I saw her at a restaurant once, here in Nashville. Wouldn’t have known it was her ‘cept for that hair.”

Cleo ran her hands through her own brown locks until she caught Clark watching her. His eyes dropped quickly to his sandwich. He picked the pickles off before taking a giant bite.

Dottie excused herself to use the bathroom and Clark waited until she was out of sight to ask, “Are you okay staying at Dottie’s ranch tonight?”

Sipping her vanilla shake she answered, “I was nervous when she first suggested it, but it’s free, and I’m in no position to turn down free.”

Clark was studying her again and Cleo squirmed under his close scrutiny. He asked, “And what if it’s just a one-room cabin?” He leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and crossed his long legs at the ankles. “I don’t know if I can trust you to keep your hands to yourself two nights in a row if we have to share a bed again.”

Cleo threw a fry at his head, but he caught it in his mouth. So she chucked another one which hit him right between the eyes. He looked surprised, but then a devilish grin spread across his face as he sat up and studied the table for ammunition of his own.

Cleo jumped up and announced she had to use the bathroom just as Clark grabbed the ketchup bottle. She passed Dottie, who moved out of the way of Cleo’s hasty retreat.

Inside the bathroom Cleo studied the girl with no makeup in the mirror and decided she liked this fresh-faced look, even if it did sport some bags under the eyes. Three more hours and they’d be able to stop for the night. And tomorrow, they’d have one more long day of driving and then they’d be in San Antonio. Cleo wasn’t sure if the butterflies in her stomach signaled excitement or trepidation at being so close to her destination, but probably a healthy mix of both.

Would the woman she came for even live at the address Cleo had been given? It had been years since her she'd first been found; she could be long gone by now. Cleo prayed that someone would know something and she could get the answers she sought.

Clark volunteered to drive in the dark again, and Cleo took the passenger seat without even thinking about it. Dottie raised a brow again but said nothing. She remained quiet in the back and Cleo didn’t know if she slept or not.

Clark hadn’t battled Cleo over the armrest this time, but he did seem to shift in his seat a lot. “Talk to me, Goose,” he finally said.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m feeling groggy and this trail mix I bought to keep me awake is nasty.”

“What should I talk about, Maverick?”

Clark tapped his thumbs on the wheel. “Who did you text yesterday?”

Cleo fiddled with a gum wrapper, unsure if she should tell him. Was there any harm in telling him? “Just my best friend. I needed someone to know that I’m safe and well, and she won’t tell anyone.”

“So I’m not going to have the FBI tracking me through this phone?”

Cleo snorted. “I think you’re safe, unless of course there’s another reason you’d be on the FBI’s radar?”

Clark pretended to ponder that, scratching his chin for emphasis. “I hope my secrets don’t catch up to me on this trip. That would be quite inconvenient for us all.”

Cleo nodded slowly. “So many things are making so much more sense now.”

“Oh yeah? Like why I resemble Jason Bourne so much?”

“I was actually thinking Jeffrey Dahmer.”

“Yes, I can see why you’d willingly get in a car with him.”

Cleo laughed. “It definitely gave me pause. But then I reasoned that serial killers are usually charming men, and you’d been nothing but surly and grumpy with me, so I hoped that meant you were safe.”

Clark scoffed and looked over at her. “When was I ever surly and grumpy?”

“Uh, try the entire day yesterday?”

“Pshaw,” he waved his hand in a downward motion.

After a couple minutes of silence Cleo asked, “So, what’s your story? Do you live in New York? Are you married or have any kids?” Cleo hadn’t seen a ring, but that didn’t always mean anything.

“I’ve lived in New York for about ten years now. I’m not married, nor am I involved with anyone, if that’s what you were hoping to find out.” He wagged his eyebrows ridiculously at Cleo and she laughed. “And I don’t have any kids. Just a puppy who would love to get his paws on Miss Dottie’s hens.” He whispered the last part and Cleo glanced behind her, checking if Dottie had heard. She didn’t think so.

“Well, she’d love to get her paws on you, too, but we can’t have everything we want, can we?” Clark chuckled and something warm unspooled in Cleo’s gut at having been able to make him almost laugh.

He turned the question back on her. “What about you? Are you a New York native? And other than jilt men at the altar, do you do anything else for a living?” Cleo wished she had another fry in sight to throw at him.

“I’ve always lived in New York or New Jersey.” He nodded like he figured that was the case. He probably took one look at her shoes and dress yesterday and knew exactly how much money she came from. That had never bothered Cleo before, but for some reason this time it did.

“And I haven’t figured out yet what I want to do with my life. Lately I’ve been helping out with my best friend’s foundation.”

“What foundation is that?”

“She runs an art program for underprivileged kids.” Ha! Bet he wasn’t expecting that from a rich girl.

Cleo had found the work at the foundation incredibly rewarding. She’d known she loved art, but she hadn’t known she loved working with kids until Bea convinced her to give it a try. Jameson didn’t understand why she spent so much time there, but Cleo was obsessed. He’d reluctantly agreed that she could keep working there after they got married. The fact that she’d even had to get his “permission” spoke a lot about their relationship and why she was here right now and not on her honeymoon.

Clark asked for more details so Cleo told him all about it, from the different art projects she’d organized to some of the kids she’d worked with. Clark cocked his head to the side. “Sounds pretty cool. I’d love to visit it sometime.”

Cleo studied him. She hadn’t thought she’d see Clark again after tomorrow, but they were both from New York; there might be 8 million people there, but it wasn’t totally impossible to think she might run into him again someday.

“I’d be happy to show you around. Maybe you have a connection to someone who could write about it, generate some much-needed publicity?”

“Maybe,” he agreed noncommittally.

Cleo did wonder about her future, now that she wasn’t going to get married. Would it be enough to keep working for Bea’s foundation? She wanted to find something of her own that she was as passionate about as Bea was, something that would help people. She’d briefly entertained the idea of using some of her inheritance to sponsor underprivileged kids who wanted to go to art school or something, but she hadn’t ever done anything to figure out how scholarships like that worked. She added that to the list of things she needed to talk to her father about.

An hour and a half past Nashville, Cleo noticed some funny noises coming from the front of the car. She and Clark stared at each other with wide eyes as the noises continued. When she saw a tendril of smoke filter out, she screamed and Clark immediately pulled the car to the side of the road.

“The car is smoking!” Cleo pointed.

Dottie sat up and said, “Well, don’t just sit there; do something!” and shoved Clark’s arm. He obediently exited the vehicle and popped the hood. Smoke poured out of it like Pandora’s box.

Cleo joined Clark in front of the car. He was bent over the engine with his phone flashlight shining on it, fiddling with something that Cleo couldn’t identify. He pulled his hand back quickly like he’d been burned.

“This is past my ability to fix,” he said, shaking his scorched fingers, “you know, since I know next to nothing about cars. We need to call the rental company.”

“I already did that,” Dottie called out the window. “I just keep gettin’ a busy signal.”

Clark tried to call and got the same response. He kicked the tire when it still wouldn’t go through on his third try. “We need a tow truck. Anyone have roadside assistance?”

Cleo didn’t even know what that was, and Dottie shook her head as she emerged from the car. “Even if we got it towed, there won’t be any garages open right now, and a tow truck will cost a fortune.” She chewed her lip. “But I might have an idea.”

She dove back into the car and emerged with a phone. For several minutes she seemed to be scrolling and typing until she finally must have found what she was looking for. She put the phone up to her ear and said, “Hey there, Hyacinth, it’s Dottie. I need a favor.”

Cleo could hear a woman’s high voice on the other line, and then Dottie explained exactly where she and some friends were when their car broke down and that they needed a ride. Dottie said something about seeing if a person named Dale could get to them tonight. A few more things were said on both ends and then Dottie thanked the woman and hung up.

“I think we’ve got a ride,” she said. She didn’t look all that happy about it, however, and returned to the back seat of the car.

“Who do you think Hyacinth and Dale are?” Cleo asked Clark.

“I don’t know and I don’t care, as long as someone is going to bail us out of this mess.” He returned to prodding things around the engine and yelping every time something was too hot.

Half an hour later, a truck’s headlights shone in Cleo’s eyes as it pulled off the freeway to park directly in front of them. A man maybe in his fifties got out and joined Clark at the rental car’s hood. Cleo watched him for a minute before joining Dottie in the car.

“Dale’s here, Dottie.” Not looking up from her book, Dottie simply nodded, confirming that the stranger was, in fact, Dale. “That was really nice of him to come help us.” Again, a nod. Cleo tapped her finger on her chin as she studied Dottie, then decided to go for the direct approach. “Who’s Dale, Dottie?”

“Hm?” she replied.

“You called in a favor from someone and yet don’t have the decency to get out of the car when he arrives. Are you scared or nervous or do you just hate him? I can’t figure out which it is.”

Dottie sighed and closed her book. “I’m….” Dottie didn’t finish her sentence for several moments. She peered out the window, puffed her cheeks, then blew out the air. “I guess I am bein’ a fraidy cat.”

“What are you afraid of?” No response. “Does Dale happen to live in Jackson, Dottie?”

Dottie met Cleo’s eyes then and nodded slowly.

“Is Dale the boy you left behind when you left UT?”

Sniff. “That’s correct. And I haven’t seen him since.”

“How did you get ahold of him?”

Dottie surreptitiously wiped under her eye. “I called his sister and asked her to ask him for assistance. She and I ran into each other about twenty years ago and have been keepin’ tabs on each other since.”

“And keeping tabs on Dale through her?”

“Not on purpose.” She looked down at her fingers. “I never asked, but sometimes Hyacinth would mention somethin’ about him.”

“Like how he had gotten married,” Cleo guessed. Dottie nodded again without looking up.

“Well, I think he’s a very decent man to come all the way out here to rescue us. I’m going to go thank him.” Dottie didn’t respond as Cleo got out of the car and approached the two men.

Cleo arrived in time to hear Dale say, “I can hook her up and tow her to my house tonight and we can get her into a garage in the morning.” Clark agreed, so Dale went to his truck and got out some equipment.

“I guess we’re not making it to Beaudell tonight,” Clark said. “Dottie will be disappointed.”

“Dottie’s got a lot more to worry about right now than whether she’ll get home to her girls tonight.” Cleo stopped Clark before he opened the door so she could explain more fully. “Clark, Dale is Dottie’s college boyfriend whom she left behind.”

His eyes widened. “The one she was talking about this morning?”

“Yep, and I think she’s too nervous or embarrassed or something to face him, so she hasn’t gotten out of the car.”

“Well, she can’t stay in here while it’s being towed; it wouldn’t be safe.”

“We’ve got to talk her into getting into Dale’s truck.” Clark and Cleo spent the next five minutes helping Dottie understand why she couldn’t just stay in the back of the car. She was a stubborn mule, but she finally conceded and grabbed her things in a huff.

While Clark helped Dale attach the two cars, Cleo led Dottie to the cab of the large truck. She had to give Dottie a generous boost to get her up into the cab, and once Dottie was there, she slunk down in the back seat as if to disappear. Cleo had never seen a grown woman act so cowardly. Except maybe herself, running away yesterday without even talking to Jameson first. If she had, however, he’d never have let her get away, so that was an entirely different situation. That fact made Cleo feel fractionally better.