Forever Friday (24 page)

“Then I suppose the same would hold true for your company?” She laughed. “Of course, one would assume that there would be exceptions.”

“Naturally.” Clark chuckled and raised his glass. “Here’s to all of us who are ‘executive exceptions.’ ”

Huck laughed again and met his toast. Now that Clark was a father, not to mention being married, he’d developed a mature charm. It was obvious that some of her good feeling was the luxurious lunch, but couldn’t a former beau grow up and be forgiven? Within a few more years, they might even be friends. After all, she had loved him once. But it had been a shallow, self-centered love, the kind that only made her feel good about herself.

After the bisque followed shrimp cocktail, an entire platter of delectable seafood choices, crème brûlée, coffee, flavored brandy. As they ate and drank, conversation centered around their growing-up years and juicy tidbits of hometown gossip. Before the brandy was gone, Clark had apologized again for his past dishonorable actions, thanked Huck for not reporting him to the police, and said he was ashamed for the false rumors he’d spread.

“You’d best stop while you’re ahead,” Huck said. “Mother still thinks I was drunk that night.”

Clark laughed gratefully. “Your kindness allowed me to meet and marry my perfect girl,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“I’m so glad this day happened.” Huck wiped a tear from her eye.

“Me too.” Clark finished his brandy. “So when does Gabe get back?”

“Tomorrow. I hope one day you two can spend time together. You’d like him.”

“I know I would, but business is business.” Clark paused. “Wait a minute. Why don’t you drive up to Kilgore with me this afternoon? We could find Gabe and have a nice dinner.”

“Oh, Clark. No. I’ve forgiven you, but Gabe—”

“Listen.” He leaned toward Huck, placing his hand atop hers. “Like I said back at the bank, it may be years before I get down this way again, and I sure would like to right things. If your husband is the man I believe him to be, he’ll forgive me.” Clark squeezed her hand gently. “Besides, you could witness the excitement of a real oil boom, then travel back to Houston with Gabe in the morning. What do you say?” Clark removed his hand and sat back.

The scene of Gabe’s refusal flashed across Huck’s memory. But more important than a shopping spree to pacify her own hurt feelings was Clark’s need for forgiveness. She
had
known his family her entire life. And what had happened on the front porch of Mrs. Thompson’s boardinghouse was history. Maybe taking Clark to see Gabe was the honorable thing to do. Gabe would be mad at first. In fact, he’d be furious. But she’d been married to the man for over five years now and knew his heart. Gabe would quickly see the merit in her actions. “I’ll need to go home and pack a few things.”

“How ’bout I pick you up in an hour?”

“Fine. Here’s our address.”

The trip north was delightful, and since the summer had been dry, they didn’t have to contend with muddy or washboard rutted roads. It was hot, so Huck had worn a lightweight sleeveless dress hemmed just below the knee.

“I love this part of the state,” she said as they motored atop a ribbon of reddish sand beneath the towering sway of emerald pines. They’d just stopped to fill up at a rural gas station. She sipped a grape soda pop, allowing the sweet fizz to cool her dusty throat. The owner lived in the back, his wife selling soft drinks out of their kitchen icebox. “Think you’ll ever move your family to East Texas?”

“Too hot and humid.” Clark tossed his empty bottle out the window.

“Clark Richards. A car could crush that bottle and blow a tire.”

“Nah. Some country bumpkin will find it first and redeem it for a penny. Think of it as helping the ignorant poor.”

Huck ignored the comment. “What I miss most is dogwoods blooming in the spring.”

“What I miss most … is you.” He reached across to the passenger side and rubbed up her bare knee.

Stunned, Huck pushed him away. “Stop that.”

“Just an innocent little pat between friends.” He placed his hand back on the wheel. “I guess old habits die hard.”

“Make sure that one’s dead.” Until now, Clark had been a perfect gentleman. He’d even sat in his luxurious automobile while she finished packing, after mentioning how his joining her inside the house might give neighbors the wrong idea. She scooted closer to the door. If he touched her like that again, she’d demand he stop and let her out.

Clark smiled. “While you were getting our drinks, the kid pumping gas told me that we’re about twenty miles from Kilgore. Said when the wind is right, they can smell the oil field.”

“Lovely.” Huck stared straight ahead. Why would a family man try to place his hand where it didn’t belong? What had been intimate when
they courted was now repulsive. She glanced his way. Hopefully, that would be the end of his shenanigans.

“I think the oil field smells like money. Can’t think of a more pleasing scent.” He breathed deeply. “Except for the scent of … you.”

“You’d best keep your nose on the driver’s side.” She folded her arms.

“I was joking.” He raised his hands in a show of innocence. “Did marriage destroy your sense of humor?”

“I don’t think your wife would consider it funny.” She faced him. “Come to think of it, you’ve never mentioned her name.”

“Maiden name was Michaels. Eleanor Katrina Michaels. Family calls her Elli for short. Met her on a train from Dallas to Chicago. She was born and raised in the Windy City to a family rolling in old money. Her father is a major stockbroker.”

“What about her mother?” Huck asked, trying to keep Clark’s thoughts aimed in a suitable direction.

“Glad you asked. Elli’s mother is crazy for baskets.”

“Baskets?”

“Collects them from around the world. She read about some backwoods woman living near Kilgore who weaves baskets out of thousands of pine needles. Wants me to locate the woman and buy one.”

“Mother has a small pine needle basket, but I think it was woven by the Alabama-Coushatta Indians.” Huck relaxed. It would be easy to keep Clark talking about his wealthy in-laws for the next twenty miles. “Does your father-in-law collect anything?”

“Piles of silver dollars.” He chuckled. “But get this. The kid back at the gas station says ‘basket woman’ lives nearby. How’s that for a piece of luck? We should be nearing her road any minute.”

“Her road? We’re out in the middle of nowhere.”

Clark nodded. “I guess she’s one of those reclusive types who prefers living off the beaten path.” He slowed the car. “See that creek up ahead?”

Huck nodded.

“Just this side of the bridge is a culvert. That’s our turn.”

They entered what looked like an overgrown logging road, the entrance partially hidden by a thick stand of wild dewberry bushes. After a few hundred yards, the road narrowed to a sandy trail, then all but disappeared, the forest floor covered in an expanse of pine cones, dead branches, and jungly undergrowth.

“I think we made a wrong turn.” Huck peered out her open window into the dim, breezeless shade. If Clark didn’t stop the car, they’d run over a stump or get stuck between the impenetrable trees. “Turn back. We’ve gone too far.”

“My thinking exactly.” Clark braked hard, skidding to a stop beside a giant pine inches from Huck’s door. He switched off the engine.

“What are you doing?” Huck said. She tried to open her door. “I can’t get out.” The dark forest felt suddenly as if it were closing in on her. “Put it in reverse. Start the motor and back up!”

“Can’t go back. Like you said, we’ve gone too far. Much too far.” He faced her, his eyes now wild with a demented glow.

“Clark, please. I don’t like it here.” Gabe was only thirty minutes away, and she’d never needed him so desperately.

“Don’t feel safe being away from civilization?” He began unbuttoning his shirt. “Why don’t you call for help? Scream the way you did that night you dumped me out of your life.” He flung his shirt into the backseat. “Dumped me like a piece of useless garbage.”

“No. Please no!”

“Oh, come now. Your voice is much stronger than that.” He cupped a hand behind his ear. “Release that ungodly scream, not that anyone will hear it.”

“You’re a madman.” Huck grabbed the doorframe, pushing her upper body out the open passenger window. Clark lunged across the seat, his big hands digging into her ribs like meat hooks, cutting off her air.

She screamed.

“I’m disappointed. Not as good a scream as last time.” He squeezed tighter.

“Someone help me! Gabe!”

“That’s right. Try yelling for that pitiful excuse of a man you married. Couldn’t save you then. Can’t save you now.”

“You’re hurting me. Let go.”

“Not until I get what’s been rightfully mine.”

“You’re insane.” Huck twisted onto her back, braced herself against the door, and kicked her feet, pummeling his face.

Catching her legs, Clark spread them apart like scissors. He spoke in broken sentences, his breathing heavy. “All our lives. You’ve … denied … me.” He crawled forward, pressing her down into the seat with his full weight. “Now … denial ends.” With one hand, he grabbed both her wrists. With the other, he ripped her dress and slip, exposing her bare skin.

“No.” Huck sobbed. “Oh God. Help me!”

Clark smashed his mouth against hers.

Huck bit down hard, finding a piece of his lower lip. She tasted blood.

Whack!

The sound of his slap echoed in her ears before she felt the dizzying sting. For a split second, she saw a knife. A blade exactly like the one he’d pulled on Gabe. Then darkness.

“Oh no you don’t.” She regained semiconsciousness amid another series of slaps. She could hear Clark’s voice, but his face was a blur. “Not like this!” he yelled. Huck felt him release her wrists. “Wake up. I want you to remember this.” Clark gripped her shoulder, shaking her entire body.

As her right hand dropped to the floorboard, she felt something smooth. Something heavy. Clutching the neck of her empty pop bottle, she swung it toward Clark’s head with all her strength.

An explosion of glass rained onto the car seat as Clark’s body fell limp.

Trapped underneath him, Huck tried to move but had no strength. Tried calling for help but had no air.

Lungs too empty to scream.

Body too weak to cry.

Something wet and warm pooled at the base of her neck, then trickled down her chest and shoulders.

Lightheaded. Sleepy. If only she could doze for a moment. If only …

Images of Gabe flooded her groggy thoughts. His sea-sky eyes. His crooked grin.

The grin widened, transforming into a booming laugh. A laugh that wasn’t Gabe’s at all, yet somehow familiar. A powerful vibration that traveled into the secret places occupied by her dreams. Suddenly she was free, weightless, floating upward, longing to soar into the cool blue dampness.

And then she heard a voice.

Felt moisture on her brow.

Opened her eyes. Tried to focus.

“Ma’am? Are you all right?” A tall man wearing a Stetson hat mopped her face with a wet handkerchief.

“What? Where’s Gabe?” She needed his arms. His comfort. Not a stranger’s.

“I’m Ranger Gonzaullas. You passed out. I’ve pulled you from the car and everything’s okay.”

“Who?”

“Don’t try to talk. Just lie here under this tree. The man who attacked you is dead.”

“Attacked? Me?” And then as suddenly as Huck had lost consciousness, her mind cleared. She’d been traveling to Kilgore with Clark. They’d turned off the main road and he’d gone mad. There was a knife. An empty bottle. Warm blood.

“No! Clark! Why would he …?” Tears streamed down her face. She’d killed him with an empty grape soda pop.

“Clark Richards is dead,” Gonzaullas repeated. “Shot through the head.”

Several hours later, Huck and Gabe entered the café connected to his hotel.

“Please sit anywhere,” said a waitress.

“We’re meeting Ranger Gonzaullas,” Gabe said. “He’ll be here shortly. He said to ask for his table.”

She nodded and seated them near a window away from the other customers. “Would you like to see a menu?”