Desire and a Bottle of Merlot: (Like Sisters Series Book 5) Chick Lit: A Romantic Comedy (16 page)

Tina slipped on her lightweight sweater to cover her wrists. Because of the ointment she’d been instructed to use, she needed to wrap her wrists again to keep the sweater clean. A knock on her door indicated the bellman had arrived. He loaded the cart with luggage, her bags of samples, and the apparel she’d bought. By eleven fifteen, Tina’s trunk was full, and she was heading east toward the interstate and Syracuse.

This really sucks not being able to gab on the phone while I drive. Time would go a lot faster if I had a distraction.
The radio reception was iffy at best. Tina played the few CDs she had in her car until she was sick of listening to them. “I guess I didn’t plan this trip out very well,” she grumbled under her breath. Reaching across to the passenger seat, Tina felt around in her purse until she found the cell phone that somehow managed to be lodged in the far bottom corner. She pressed the on button until the phone powered up.
I’ve got to see if there’s any juice left in the stupid thing. I’ll go nuts if I don’t have someone to talk to.
The phone sprang to life, and Tina checked how much battery was left.
Crap—there’s only fourteen percent charge left.
She had to plan wisely.
Who should I call, and how long can I talk?
She decided on Mia. Vic was working anyway, and Sasha was likely busy doing something related to family or Martha Destiny. Karen was Tina’s backup plan in case Mia didn’t answer.

The phone rang twice before Mia’s friendly voice picked up. “Hey, sister, long time no talk. How was Rochester, or are you still there?”

“No, I’m heading back. Did Vic tell you I forgot my charger? I would have called before now, but I had to save whatever juice I had left. I’ll have to keep this call short. Anyway, what’s new?”

“Well, my parents will be here in a few days. Matt, Liz, and the kids are coming on the seventeenth. I just hope everything goes as planned. I’m starting to get wedding jitters.” Mia groaned.

“Humph, that’s funny coming from you. Look how many weddings you’ve photographed over the years. You’d think you would be used to everything that could go wrong.”

“Yeah, but when it’s your own wedding, and then a double one no less, who the hell knows?”

“That’s true. So, what’s the weather like? I heard there’s supposed to be storms this afternoon.” Tina switched lanes after checking her mirrors. She needed to take the exit ramp going east to Syracuse.

“Yeah, the sky is starting to darken up. I can see huge thunderheads in the distance. According to the weather report, it isn’t supposed to start raining until later this afternoon though.”

“That’s good. Maybe I can beat the storm. Anyway, I have about four more hours of driving, but I might stop for something to eat. I’ll talk to you later.”

Tina was cut off before she heard Mia say good-bye. The beeping sound of her cell phone told her she was out of power. A glance at the screen gave her just enough time to see the battery icon at zero percent before the screen went black.

“Damn it! Now I’m really screwed if anything goes haywire.”

Tina decided to have a late lunch when she reached Binghamton. It would be a good midway point to stretch for a bit and have a meal. She remembered the diner she’d eaten at on her way to Rochester.
The food was good, and the coffee was strong
.
That’s where I’ll stop.
She made sure to wrap the gauze around her wrists again and put the sweater back on. She didn’t want small-town staring eyes looking her way while she ate lunch.
They’ll probably be looking at my hair the way it is.
She chuckled at the thought of the mild-mannered patrons and long-haul truckers wondering what kind of weirdo had just stepped into this small diner off the beaten path in Binghamton.

“Coffee?” A pimply-faced teenage boy approached her with the carafe already in his hand and a strange smile on his face.

“Yes, thank you, and a menu, please.”
Guess the girl works nights
. She browsed the food selection. “I’ll have a grilled ham and Swiss on wheat bread and an order of fries.”

“Sure thing—coming right up. Got an order for you, Dad,” the boy called out.

Tina smiled.
Guess
I called that one
. The same man who’d been there a few nights ago busied himself preparing food orders on the kitchen side of the wall.

The boy carried the plate of food to Tina’s table. He wore a sheepish grin as he set the plate down. “Just wanted to say your hair is really cool. There’s some kids at school who are kind of out there, sort of outcasts I guess, but deep down I’ve always been a little jealous of them.”

“Really? Why’s that?” she asked, surprised and flattered at the openness the boy displayed.

“Because they don’t care what other people think. It’s got to feel good, you know what I mean? Anyway, can I get you anything else, maybe a glass of water?”

“Thanks, that sounds great, and yes, I do know what you mean.” The edge of Tina’s mouth curved up into a smile as he walked away.
Wow… that kid is pretty insightful for a teenager. I like him.
Tina finished lunch and left a seven-dollar tip on the table. She gave the boy a grin and waved good-bye as she crossed through the door. With a cup of coffee to go and a deep sigh, Tina started her car and drove away.

She tried the radio again, looking for a local weather station. Distant thunderheads were coming her way, carrying a threatening and snarky attitude with them. Tina still had two hours of driving time before she’d reach Tarrytown, and driving on wet, slippery roads wasn’t one of her favorite pastimes. Voices through static were better than no voices at all. She could still understand every few words. The local weather station called for severe thunderstorms heading southeast, with wind gusts of thirty miles per hour.

Friggin’ awesome—the storm is going to follow me home
. Just the thought of it made Tina grip the steering wheel even tighter and sit rigidly in her seat.
This is going to drain every nerve I have for the next two hours
. Small rain droplets sporadically hit her windshield as the black clouds got closer.
If only I could outrun the storm, but it’s moving this way too fast.
The rain pounded harder as the dark clouds shrouded every car on the freeway. The sky called out its final warning just before the torrential rain hit with a fury. Tina’s wipers couldn’t keep up. Brake lights lit up the darkened freeway as traffic slowed to a crawl.
At least I won’t get hit as hard if everyone is driving slower
. She exhaled slowly. Route I-86 from Syracuse ran with State Highway 17. Winding curves around Wurtsboro slowed traffic even more.
What I’d give to be sitting at home with a glass of Merlot and a snuggly blanket, damn it. If only I’d left earlier.
What should have been two hours was now closing in on three. Tina’s eyes hurt from focusing so intently on the road in front of her. She gripped the steering wheel even tighter as the wind gusts tried to tear her tires from the pavement. The large green freeway sign showed the far-right ramp coming up for I-87 South.
Thank God, I’m getting close. In less than forty miles, I’ll finally be home.
She couldn’t count the fender benders and stalled cars she’d passed, and without a cell phone, she couldn’t call for help anyway.
Hopefully, everyone has their own
. Tina was well aware that her gas tank was getting dangerously low on fuel. The gauge hovered over the empty symbol.
I’ll be home soon. I have to make it. There’s no way in hell I’m getting out in this mess to pump gas. I’ll either be soaked to the bone or blown away in this wind—maybe both.
With the relentless rain and, now, pea-sized hail hitting her car, she pensively carried on toward Tarrytown. Once Tina crossed the Tappan Zee Bridge, she felt safe and exhaled a sigh of relief. She made it to the edge of town. With only two miles to get to the comfort of her home, Tina calmed down for the first time in hours. Her knotted, tense shoulders finally relaxed.

The sputtering, coughing sound of an empty gas tank made Tina curse with disbelief. “There’s no friggin’ way it could be empty. Please God, not now, not in the middle of a shit storm of hail with ten blocks left to go.” Instinctively, she reached for her phone then remembered it was as dead as week-old roadkill. The neighborhood she was in, on the edge of town, wasn’t somewhere a young woman in a short skirt and high-heeled boots wanted to be seen. People might get the wrong idea.
I can’t believe this crap. My phone is dead, and I’d be too if I walked into one of the sketchy bars in this neighborhood. I’ll never be seen again. It would be better if I were knocked out cold from a hailstone. At least an ambulance has blankets and would be dry and warm.
Her suitcase was buried under the shopping bags in her trunk. If she opened it, everything inside would be drenched with rainwater anyway. Tina thought about her location.
Who lives the closest?
She came to the conclusion that other than her own home ten blocks away, Josh’s house was somewhat closer. He lived five blocks nearer and two blocks to the east of where her car sat, stalled, its gas tank as dry as the Sahara desert. “Son of a bitch… no matter what, I’m going to get soaked and hammered in the head.” The thought of carrying her purse in broad daylight, at least for the next three blocks, unnerved her. There wasn’t anything useful in it anyway. Tina made sure her wrists were wrapped so there was some protection against the pounding rain having the slightest chance of ruining her beautiful tattoos. With the thin sweater wrapped around her, and her purse hidden deep under the seat, Tina exited and locked the car, dropped the keys into the pocket of her faded denim skirt, and headed out into the downpour.
I hope Josh is home. I hope Josh is home,
she chanted in her head. With her charger at the salon instead of her house, walking all the way home seemed unproductive. She still wouldn’t be able to call anyone.
I have to go where there’s a human being I know.

The rain and hail pelted her head as she walked. Now that her sweater was in ruins, it didn’t seem to matter if it was stretched out, too. Tina pulled it up high, trying to cover her head. She was soaked no matter what, but a little buffer between her skull and the stinging rain and pea-sized hail could give her a certain amount of comfort. Power walking in those ankle boots proved difficult. Taking them off and going barefoot was a ridiculous thought—there were too many variables: broken glass, sharp-edged gravel stones, and who knows what, was likely lurking beneath her feet as she walked on the side of the road. If Josh wasn’t home, she would continue on to her own house. At least she was going in the same general direction.

Tina walked three blocks then turned east. Two blocks ahead on the right side of the street was Josh’s house. She wanted to be optimistic, but the old snarky, Doubting Debbie attitude was rearing its ugly head.
Why in the hell would Josh be home anyway? He’s either still at work or enjoying a cocktail with the friggin’ family in front of a warm fire at the Victorian. That’s where anyone in their right mind would be. They sure as hell wouldn’t be wading knee deep in a cesspool of rain and hail, walking ten miles in this shit.
The angrier Tina became, the more she stomped. Her screech went unnoticed—the rain was too loud, and nobody was outside in this typhoon anyway. Tina crossed the street with one block to go and stepped over the curb, turning her ankle in the process. Her boots were soaked through and through, making them slippery inside. In an instant, she dropped to her knees like a weighted cinder block thrown overboard into the Hudson River. Trying to get up and stand proved useless—her foot hung limp like week-old lettuce. “Son of a bitch!” she wailed, “what else can go wrong?” Tina cried out to the weather gods, pleading for mercy. Crawling for a block reminded her too much of the devout parishioners crawling to the Basilica de Guadalupe. At the moment, she wasn’t feeling very religious. Trying to hop on one foot would be next to impossible—her left leg wasn’t that coordinated. Sitting on the grimy curb and as angry as a wet cat, Tina was out of options.
It’s only a block. Maybe I can crawl on people’s lawns. At least it will save my knees.

Dan brought the lumber for the pergola to Josh’s house. His work van, backed against the large garage, kept him dry as he unloaded the boards he wanted to paint. Working inside the garage until the ground dried would keep him from getting behind. At the moment, the wedding garden was thick with mud and standing water. He appreciated Josh’s offer to let him use the garage. Josh had moved almost everything of his own out and into Sasha’s shed already anyway. Dan balanced several boards across the sawhorses and placed a drop cloth beneath it. At the workbench, he pried open a can of antique-white outdoor oil-based paint. Any oil-based paint would hold up better against the elements for the duration. Latex seemed to peel after a few years. Dan grabbed the stick and began stirring vigorously to mix the oil floating on the top in with the paint.
That’s a weird sound
, he thought as he stopped to listen. A high-pitched screech sounded outside through the pounding rain.
Hmmm… must be the great blue herons migrating north. They’re probably trying to get out of the rain for a while.
He smiled at the thought of those great birds returning. Dan was an avid bird-watcher and loved seeing the different species show up after wintering in the south. The migration was a good indication that summer was almost here. The screech continued and got louder. With his ears perked, he could tell the sound was more humanlike than he’d thought before.

“
Help meeeee!
”

Dan ran through the service door on the side of the garage to see what was making that pitiful plea for help. He looked down the driveway and to either side of the garage before he caught a glimpse of something. Through the downpour, he saw someone crawling across the front lawn. “Who in the name of God is that?” The only thing he could see for sure, through the constant sheet of rain, was that a screeching female with strange multicolored hair, resembling a wounded Afghan hound was crawling toward him. Dan crossed the lawn in a split second, scooped the wet mess up into his arms, and carried her to the garage. Setting the drenched ragdoll in the back of the van, he grabbed the drop cloth to wrap around her shaking body. He looked her in the eyes, trying to see if she was coherent, and realized the face belonged to someone he knew. Under the streaked and smeared makeup, beyond the multicolored dripping hair stuck to her cheeks and the scuffed, grass-stained knees, this pitiful woman with questionable bandaged wrists was Tina. “What on earth… Tina, is that really you?”