Forever Friday (30 page)

All the glass had been shattered, the canvas top gone, but the car was in one piece. And the man lying on the ground beside it … Gabe!

Huck sprinted to his side and knelt. “Oh, Gabe. I thought I’d lost you.”

He opened his eyes, his voice barely audible. “I knew you’d find me. You’ve never lost anything, except a shoe.”

“Ma’am,” the orderly said. “We need to tend to his wounds and get him into the ambulance.”

Huck stepped back, unable to take her eyes off her husband. His hair and face were covered in a mixture of blood, grease, and soot. What was left of his suit had large holes burned through it.

“Pulse is strong,” the orderly said. “But he’s lost some blood. Right leg is broken. Looks like there’s multiple abrasions from all the flying glass and some minor burns.”

“Then, is he going to …?” Huck tried to finish her sentence, but the words clogged in her throat.

“Looks like he’s gonna be fine, ma’am,” the orderly answered. “We got here in time.”

“He’s lucky
Blackjack Betty
went aground where she did,” the trooper added, “although I can’t figure why a sailboat would be docked in an industrial slip. Probably acted like a dam, protecting this small area of the parking lot from the force of the tidal wave. But with all the huge flying projectiles, that big blue car is what saved your husband’s life.”

In less than ten minutes, Gabe had been bandaged, given something for pain, and loaded in the ambulance. Huck remained by his side, holding his hand.

The driver started the engine. “Seen any female survivors come out of Monsanto?” he asked the trooper.

“A few. But the fire’s still blocking many of the exits.”

The driver nodded, then let out the clutch.

Huck reached forward with her free hand and squeezed the driver’s shoulder. “A man who once predicted my future told me to ‘grab hope and never let go,’ ” she whispered.

“And did you?”

She gazed upon her husband, battered but alive.

“This time I did,” Huck replied. “This time.”

November 1960

Dallas, Texas

The Friday after Thanksgiving was one of the busiest Christmas shopping days of the year, but Huck didn’t mind the crowds. The cold, wet weather, along with all the spicy holiday aromas, gave her a feeling of cheerful coziness. She and Gabe had awakened before daylight and driven to Dallas to shop at the most lavish department store in Texas, Neiman Marcus.

“A fellow at the office told me the store was founded on a mistake,”
Gabe said, then coughed sharply as they crossed the Trinity River into the city limits of Big D.

“That’s hard to believe.” Up ahead, Huck could see the flying red horse atop the Magnolia Oil building, a prominent landmark of the skyline that rose above the rolling Blackland Prairie. They were getting close. She pulled down the visor mirror to check her makeup. Even though she was fifty-five and Gabe was sixty, they both still looked younger than their ages. Gabe had distinguished silver highlights at his temples with only a few laugh lines, and—thanks to her beauty shop—she could still pass for a woman in her midforties.

“Fellow swears it’s true,” Gabe continued. “Says when the owners decided to open the store in 1907, they’d just turned down an opportunity to get in on the ground level of a new soda pop venture: Coca-Cola.”

“I’m glad they said no to Coke.” Huck pushed up the visor and smiled. “I like our yearly trips to Neiman’s and so do you.”

Their talk instantly connected her thoughts to the Texas City disaster thirteen years earlier. When Gabe had recovered enough to ask questions, he’d inquired how she’d commandeered an ambulance. The fact that it hinged on her shopping for seductive lingerie delighted him immensely. So each November, he insisted on taking her to Neiman’s to buy what he called “female finery,” especially since it had been the catalyst for saving his life.

Huck argued how several additional factors at Texas City had kept him alive—a protective boat named
Blackjack Betty
, their beautiful car, and a traffic delay that caused him to still be in the parking lot at the time of the explosion. She even theorized that Mister Jack had had something to do with a pleasure yacht washing up unexpectedly out of
an industrial slip … a boat with
jack
conveniently in its name. But Gabe had simply laughed. What he had
not
laughed about was her wish to never sell Blue Norther. They’d had it refurbished and now it was almost a classic.

Gabe coughed again. “We’re here,” he said, pulling up in front of the ornate downtown store. “Won’t be able to check into the Adolphus Hotel until this afternoon.” His cough continued. “Sorry. Must be this damp weather.” He pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket. “Why don’t you get out here, and I’ll go search for an empty parking place.”

“But, Gabe. I think you’re catching a cold.”

A concierge stepped to the curb and opened Huck’s door.

“I’m okay, honey. If I’m not back for lunch, I’ve run off with the meter maid.”

“Fine, just leave our car. She’d never love it the way I do.”

“I’ll be right back,” Gabe called as he motored away.

Huck scampered inside. It worried her that his cough had returned, a raspy hack that would come and go. It had developed a few days after the explosion during his three-week hospital stay. Doctors said that it was due to breathing massive amounts of dust and chemical particles. They also recommended he quit smoking. He had, for the most part, except for an occasional cigarette when he was bored or under stress.

“Welcome to Neiman Marcus.” A male floorwalker with slicked-back hair and an expensive three-piece suit offered a slight bow. “May I check your coat?”

“Please,” Huck replied, allowing him to slide it from her shoulders. He snapped his fingers, and a young woman retrieved the coat and handed him a claim number.

“And may I direct you to a specific department?”

“No, thank you.” She smiled. “I’m just waiting for my husband.”

“Very well.” He handed Huck the number. “Would you prefer to peruse our Thanksgiving sale items while you wait? They’re conveniently located right over there.” He gestured to a well-lit display near the elevators. “There’s a lovely silver platter, perfect for serving next year’s bird.”

“What about my husband?”

“Only if he won’t mind being stuffed and basted.” The floorwalker briefly cackled at his attempt at vaudevillian humor, then cleared his throat. “When I see a man looking for a beautiful woman, I’ll point him in your direction.”

The platter was as sterling as the floorwalker’s flattery. Huck slid her hand along the gleaming smooth finish. She chuckled softly. It would be a perfect complement to the silver candelabra they’d purchased on Thanksgiving Day back in 1933 at the opening of Epsom Downs.

Huck smiled at the memory of that wonderful day. Their love had only strengthened through the years. Then Gabe’s voice jolted her thoughts back to Neiman’s. She jumped.

“I thought I’d never find a place to park in this Dallas traffic,” Gabe said.

“You startled me,” Huck said. “I was remembering when you bought our candelabra.”

Gabe chuckled, then spoke with a twangy Texas drawl. “Now who’d ’a thunk a critter predicted to finish dead last would ’a won?”

Huck smiled, mimicking his speech. “Reckon it wuz the old cowboy who’d thunk it.” They’d had this same conversation many times
and now it was a game, even though she still believed he’d been Mister Jack.

“And who knowed that danged ole money we won would ’a been the candelabra’s exact price?”

“The old cowboy knowed it,” Huck replied. “But no more reminiscing. It’s time to shop.”

After seeing Huck to the lingerie department, Gabe sat in a comfortable lounge area and leafed through a Neiman’s Christmas catalogue. Since it was the noon hour, all the shoppers had disappeared.

He chuckled. There was no telling what kind of frilly undergarments his wife would buy. She was still so beautiful, sometimes when he looked at her, his stomach ached.

He flipped a few more pages and paused. A fashion model reminded him of their delightful housekeeper, Priscilla, who worked for them two days a week. She’d grown up without the advantages of a stable home life, but had graduated in the top quarter of her high school class back in the spring. Her plan was to work hard and save enough money to attend college. They’d offered to pay for some of her education expenses, but she’d politely declined help. And even though she’d only been with them for six months, in some ways, she was the daughter they’d never had.

Gabe glanced up from the catalogue at the sound of approaching footsteps. “You can’t see it until tonight, but guess what I bought.” Huck held a silver box decorated with snowflakes.

“Priscilla’s Christmas gift?”

“In this department? Don’t be silly. Women don’t give each other lingerie unless it’s for a wedding shower.” She tapped on the box. “Any guesses?”

“Itchy red longhandles with a trap door in the back?”

“I’ll wear them just for you.” She set down the box and sat beside him. “Looking at anything interesting?”

“Don’t you think this gal looks like Priscilla?” He pointed to the model.

“If she reduced. Priscilla’s a little on the plump side.”

“Somewhere in this catalogue, you can order your own private airplane.”

“I like our little sailboat.” Huck snuggled close. “I’m tired. Let’s have some lunch and see if our hotel room is ready.”

Gabe turned to a place he’d marked with his finger. “Are you too tired to try on this dress?” After buying her clothes for thirty-four years, he’d become pretty good at selecting the colors and styles that enhanced her natural beauty.

“Oh, Gabe. I love the happy pink color of the full skirt. It will be perfect for dancing on New Year’s Eve. And the backless black velvet bodice is so slimming.”

“What about the polka dots on the skirt? Are they slimming too, or just round?” He grinned. “Want to go try it on?”

In no time, a saleslady had located the dress in Huck’s size and escorted her behind a curtain to the dressing rooms. Once again, Gabe found himself waiting nearby in another “husband” lounge. He wished for a newspaper, having already skimmed through the catalogue.

“I’ll come back in ten minutes, dear,” Gabe heard the saleslady call. She came out from behind the curtain as he was searching his suit pockets for a stray cigarette pack. “Your wife looks lovely in that dress. But she says you must not see it until New Year’s Eve.”

Gabe watched as the saleslady disappeared around the corner, then
stood and gazed around the women’s department. There was not a person in sight. And no one else had been in or out of the dressing area. Obviously, Huck was alone.

He chuckled.

She may not want him to see the dress, but why should he have to wait? The whole polka-dotted, black velvet, slimming thing was his idea. What would be the harm in surprising her with a quick peek? She’d be a little peeved perhaps, but would later consider it daring. Even funny.

Gabe slipped past the curtain and peered down the plush hallway of fitting rooms. It wasn’t that much different from the men’s department, except there were mirrors everywhere and racks full of dresses waiting to be placed back out on the floor.

He checked his watch. Eight minutes until the saleslady returned. It was silly for a man of his age and position to be acting like a schoolboy, but being married to Huck had taught him to enjoy life. Take chances. And if he was caught behind enemy lines, he’d just … well, he’d think of something.

Hearing movement behind a door on the right, he crept forward and opened it.

A matronly woman yelped! Luckily she was dressed.

Gabe grabbed a dress off one of the discard racks. “I’m Mr. Marcus,” he said in a sophisticated voice. “This would look stunning on you!” He shoved it at the woman and closed the door.

“Why … thank you,” came a soft voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Huck stuck her head out of the next room. Gabe’s face was redder than the horse atop the Magnolia building.

He placed his finger in front of his lips. “Trying to find you,” he whispered, then handed her his billfold.

“You thought I was in
that
dressing room?” A huge grin spread across her face. “I saw a woman go in there who wouldn’t appreciate …” Huck covered her mouth and shook with laughter. “So is she going to kill you or scream for the store detective?”

“Neither, if she likes my taste in clothes,” he replied breathlessly. “I’ll be waiting out front in the car … having a cigarette.”

Huck ducked back into the dressing room. The dress fit perfectly. She changed back into her shopping clothes but, instead of leaving, plopped into a Queen Anne chair. Her eyes moistened. What had she done to deserve a man who received more delight out of buying her a dress than most men did purchasing a new car? She dug a tissue out of her purse. Gabe’s hacking cough worried her. It sounded different than it had even a month ago.