On the Corner of Heartache and Hopeful--MIC (8 page)

He’d given her
an amazing night of passion in exchange for her virginity. More than a fair
trade. Because now she had all these wonderful memories to keep her company on
the many lonely nights to come.

Chapter Eleven

Carrying two Styrofoam coffees
and a box of mini chocolate donuts, Scott entered the motel room. Mic sat
cross-legged on the bed, in one of his white T-shirts, braiding her hair.

Regret barreled
into him. He didn’t want to ever see her splendid hair confined to a braid
again. But that wasn’t going to happen, not with her mechanic’s job. Her warm,
welcoming smile stopped his heart in its tracks as a sudden insight smacked him
upside the head.

Throughout his
adult life, he’d achieved a good measure of success in New York, but it always
seemed like his achievements were less than they should be, like something
crucial was missing from his life. And now he knew what, or rather who, had
been absent.

Michaela
Anderson.

He felt the same
bond with her as he had with his parents and Nonie. A sense of
rightness
fill him being with her. Death had taken that feeling from him, twice. He
didn’t want to lose it a third time. But what did that mean? Was he willing to
sacrifice his work, his livelihood for a chance to stay with Mic, a woman he
may have known for years, but didn’t truly know? The answer was a resounding
yes.

But did she feel
the same? Or was this just a one-time deal? That possibility sent an ice pick
through his gut.

Her smile
faltered then withered completely as her forehead pleated. “Something wrong?”

It was then he
realized he stood staring at her. With a mental head slap, he closed the door
with his foot and walked to the dresser. “Kinda. The corner market didn’t have
the fresh pastries I remembered. We’re stuck with store bought.”

She uncurled her
legs and stood beside him. “Ernie’s wife has been sick lately and not up to
doing much baking.” She took a sip of coffee as he opened the box of donuts.
She snagged one, then sat back on the bed. “This is great. Thanks.”

He sat beside
her with a wink. “I want you to know I spared no expense.”

“I can tell.”

He popped a stale
donut into his mouth and chewed. “What’s on your agenda for today?”

“Well.” She
paused to lick the icing from her fingers. He instantly envied her fingers.
“Try not to be jealous, but Mr. Peterson needs his carburetor rebuilt.”

“Oh, baby,” he teased
back. “You know how to live.”

“Don’t I?”

After the shared
laugh, his grin faded and he cleared his throat. “I meet with the lawyer again
this morning about Nonie’s will.”

She nodded, her
gaze on her coffee.

“I’m not
contesting the will,” he said to fill the quiet. “Got any plans for the money
she left you?”

Mic stood and
moved to the dresser, her shoulders rigid. She placed her cup next to the TV
with a slight thud. “No, because I’m not taking the money.”

That snapped his
eyebrows down. “What you do mean?”

She faced him,
her jaw set. “Just what I said, I’m not taking any money. She was my friend—”
Her voice cracked. He jumped to his feet and wound his arms around her. She
buried her face in his shirt. “I’m gonna miss her terribly.”

Scott squeezed
his moist eyes shut. “Me too.”

For a moment,
they simply held each other, drawing comfort and strength. Finally she slipped
from his embrace and wiped her fingers across her cheeks. “I was Ester’s friend
because I truly cared about her and not for any money.”

“I know that,
but couldn’t you use some extra money on the garage?”

Her short laugh
lacked humor. “Absolutely, but I still won’t take it.”

He focused on
her stressed tone rather than her refusal—again—to take the money. “Business
that bad? What’s the problem?”

“The problem is
Tatum is dying. In the last census, our population dropped by over twenty
percent. Young people are moving out and our older citizens are, well, getting
older. For me to have customers, I need people who own cars. By the look of
things, that’s not going to be the case in
another ten or
fifteen years
.” She shrugged. “You should take all the money. You know
better what charities or causes were important to Ester.”

“What about
Brooksville?”

A furrow
appeared on her forehead. “Brooksville? You’re gonna donate the money to the
neighboring town?”

“No, silly.
Didn’t World Books relocate one of their distribution warehouses to Brooksville
a couple of years ago?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, I’ll wager
the population of Brooksville hasn’t dropped. In fact, I bet it’s increased
with new support businesses like diners and such.”

“Even if that’s
true, I don’t see your point.”

“My point is
people in Brooksville have cars. Cars that need a good mechanic.”

She sighed. “If
you’re suggesting I move to Brooksville, I’ve already thought about that, but
finding a new building would be tough. Even though Brooksville’s only twenty
miles away, their real estate market is ten times Tatum’s. I can’t afford to
relocate.”

He shook his
head. “That’s not what I’m suggesting. Probably a good portion of the people
who have moved
from
Tatum have moved
to
Brooksville, wouldn’t you
agree?”

She rubbed her
forehead in the manner he was recognizing as frustration. “I’ll say again, so?”

“So,” he
repeated, taking her shoulders in a tender grip, “my little, beautiful
mechanic, what if you entice all your former customers, who moved to
Brooksville, to take the short drive back to Tatum to have their car cared for
in the way they’re used to? What if you make Anderson Automotive the premium service
garage in three counties?”

She stared at
his shirt buttons. He could almost hear the wheels in her head whirling. “You
know, if we bought the vacant building behind the garage, we could have a
transmission shop, a body shop, whatever we needed, without having to
subcontract all the work to Lincoln.” She looked up at him, excitement shining
in her eyes. “We could do most, if not all, the work in house. It’d save
customers time and money, while we increased our business in the process.”

Scott hugged her
close, pleased by her use of the word “we.” While she probably meant her and
her crew, he liked to think it included him. “It’d be great, babe.”

After a moment,
she pulled away with a frown. “Oh, hell. Who am I kidding? I wouldn’t be able to
manage all that. I can barely manage what I have now.”

“I could help.”

Another laugh
escaped. “Right. Take time away from your busy New York life to talk me though
all the problems I know I’ll end up causing myself.”

Scott searched
her face. “Who said I’d be in New York?”

Mic stared at
him, her eyes wide. “You’re staying in Tatum?”

He tugged her
braid. “I’m thinking there might be one or two reasons for me to stay.”

In less than a
blink, her expression went from surprised to panic. “Well, uh…” she edged away
so they were no longer touching. “This shouldn’t be a hasty decision on your
part.”

His heart
clutched. Obviously she didn’t want him as desperately as he did her. “I see,”
he murmured.

“See what?”

“Nothing.” He
turned away, the pain in his chest crowding his heart. “I just thought we had
something special between us.”

Her hand brushed
his arm. “It’s very special, but is it enough for you to give up everything in
New York?”

“Give up what?
Air pollution? Bad traffic? People always nasty because they’re always in a
hurry? An over-sized, insanely expensive apartment I rarely see because I’m so
crazed at work?”

He grasped her
hand and led her to the bed. Somewhere in this conversation, he’d stopped even
considering going back to New York. He wanted to stay in Tatum.

With Mic.

He sat next to
her, his gaze again searching hers. “With you, I can breathe. I can…live. It
sounds stupid, but I feel at home. Only three other people have ever made me
feel that way. My mom and dad and Nonie.” He swallowed hard and dove over the
cliff-of-no-return. “I feel my home is with you, Mic. Whether in Tatum or New
York or Timbuktu.”

Her wary
expression remained. “Will that be enough?”

“I don’t know,
but it’s a start.” He studied her hand, knowing he had to be honest. “Please understand,
I’m not proclaiming some undying love. But I like you an awful lot and believe
I could easily fall head-over-heels in love with you.” He forced himself to
meet her gaze. “If you’re willing to meet me halfway.”

She gave a small
shrug. “This is all so sudden.”

His heart sank
further as he stood. “I understand.” He tried to speak past the lump of sorrow
in his throat. “You need more time.”

“Yeah. I do.”

A moment later,
her dainty hand on his shoulder urged him to turn around. “Time’s up.”

His eyebrows
jerked down. “What?”

“Don’t you know
that I’ve had the biggest crush on you—bordering on love—since high school?”
Her smile warmed his soul.

“Really?”

“Really. Now if
you’re done thinking that I’m a lesbian,
I’m
thinking I need to call
work to tell them I’m taking the day off and you need to cancel your lawyer
appointment.”

He raised his
eyebrows in mock puzzlement. “But whatever would we do all day?”

She grabbed the
front of his shirt and tugged him down onto the bed so she straddled his hips,
her mouth a scant inch from his. “I’m sure we’ll think of something. Might even
include pantyhose.”

Chapter Twelve

The next afternoon, Mic drove the
Comet to Ester’s house. Her spirits soared higher than the wispy, white clouds.
She was surprised the wheels of the car managed to stay on the ground. She
giggled at the silly exaggeration, though her heart did feel like it could fly.

This had to be a
fairy tale. A magical, Cinderella fairy tale where the handsome prince defies
tradition to marry the grimy garage mechanic. Her face seemed frozen into a
permanent grin. But as joyous as she felt, she tried to keep all this newfound
happiness in perspective.

While Scott had
claimed to care about her, he never said he loved her. In spite of that
niggling detail, Mic knew there was a real chance for her to have the family
she’d always dreamed of, with the man of her dreams. Scott. Her Prince
Charming.

She turned onto
Ester’s street, reflecting on how quickly circumstances could change. Had it
just been last week when she’d visited Carmen in Denver? Then, she couldn’t
have felt lonelier. Now, the idea of being alone was as foreign as the Japanese
in the Toyota manuals. And this was all possible because of the tragic death of
Ester Trehune.

While she would
never, ever, be grateful for Ester’s passing, Mic had faith her dear friend was
looking down from Heaven, a smile on her face, pleased that she and Scott had
found each other. Pulling to a stop in front of the two-story house, she was
out of the car almost before cutting the motor. Though she’d been with Scott
that morning, she bounded up the porch steps, her heart racing in anticipation
at seeing him again.

The big wooden
door stood open and she grasped the screen door handle just as his baritone
voice reached her ears. “I completely understand your position. But right now I
don’t have a choice. I’m obligated.”

Something in his
tone sent glass shards into her belly. Though she knew it was wrong, she
stepped to the side and listened.

“Of course it’s
feasible for things to change…I don’t think that’s likely—now why would you say
that? You know how I feel about you…”

The floor
creaked near the door. Mic’s heart froze. She pressed tighter to the rough wood
siding. How could she explain eavesdropping on Scott?

“All right. No
more stupid talk about leaving, agreed?…Good. My responsibilities here are
almost done so I’ll be flying back tomorrow. My flight’s scheduled to arrive
around six in the evening. Can you pick me up?...Great, Snookie….You know I love
you, too.” The floor squeaked again then faded. “Now, about the Coolidge
report…”

Once she was
certain the coast was clear, Mic bolted off the porch. Tears streaming down her
face, she ran as fast as she could from the house, and the betrayal that slashed
her chest. What had she thought? That circumstances could change in a snap? How
true.

Everything had
been a lie. All of it. Scott didn’t care for her, wasn’t fond of her, never
felt like he could grow to love her. Whatever “responsibility” he had was over
and he was going back to New York. And she was going back to being alone. No
fairytale ending for her.

After sprinting
six blocks, she slowed to a jog, then a brisk walk. Sweat mingled with her
tears and stung her eyes. She wiped at them then tugged her Reds cap lower over
her face to hide the evidence she was crying. She rounded the corner and saw
the street sign.

Heartache
Avenue and Hopeful Drive
.

She leaned
against the building and covered her face with a hand. A most desolate sense of
wretchedness ate her alive. Heartache and Hopeful.

No truer words
could describe her life. Mere minutes ago, she’d been hopeful, traveling in the
direction she had always wished. Nothing was left now except bereft heartache.

She pivoted and
started on a slow walk home, head down. None of the guys were expecting her
back at the garage this late in the afternoon, so why return? All she’d get
would be curious stares and whispered comments about her swollen eyes and red
nose, and the reasons she had them.

As she walked,
Mic became less emotional about Scott and more philosophical. In spite of the
pain splintering her heart, she wouldn’t change a thing about her time with
him.