THE BRIDE WORE BLUE JEANS

by Mary Anne Wilson

  When he reached the Corvette, the car looked empty. And for a moment, his heart lurched in fear that she was gone. But as he circled to the driver's side, he glanced inside and saw her crouched down between the dash and the front seat.

  He reached inside, flipped the trunk release, then went around and dropped her suitcase in the trunk. Then he went back around to the driver's side. When he glanced at Annie, her features were lost in the soft shadows, but she held out his keys to him. The metal was warm from her touch.

  He got in, started the car, and easing back from the protection of the bins, he headed for the far end of the parking lot. He fully expected that at any moment, someone would come running out of the building yelling at them to stop. But as he swung onto the street, all was quiet except for the throb of the engine and some night birds.

  He didn't look at Annie again until he passed the city limits of Jarvis and the town faded into the distance behind the sleek black car. He deliberately kept below the speed limit until he glanced in his mirror and only saw dark road behind them. Slowly, he pressed down on the accelerator, then he looked over at Annie, still crouched out of sight.

  "Come on up and get comfortable," he said. "We're out of there, and it doesn't look as if we're being followed."

  While she scrambled up and sat on the seat, Quint checked the rearview mirror. But her startled yell jarred him. He looked at her as she leaned over the seat grabbing at the white hat she'd been wearing; but she didn't stand a chance of catching it before it was whipped back and out of sight by the rushing air.

  "Damn it," she muttered as she flopped down in the seat again.

  "Anything that's not tied down or held down is fair game in a convertible," Quint said.

  "I guess so."

  He motioned to the glove compartment. "Look in there and get the map out. We've got the road to ourselves right now, but it might not be that way for long."

  While Annie found the map, Quint noticed he was down to less than a quarter of a tank of gas. Enough to get them out of the area, but he'd have to stop soon.

  "How in blazes—" Annie muttered and Quint glanced at her fighting the map, attempting to fold it while the rushing air was trying to snatch it out of her hands.

  "Remember your hat," he said. "We don't want to lose that map."

  She managed to fold it, and Quint flicked on an interior light that gave her enough illumination around her legs to read the map. "Find Jarvis," he told her.

  She bent over the map as she held it against her leg, then said, "All right, I found Jarvis. Now what?"

  "See if there's any road that goes south into Texas and cuts west to New Mexico."

  "There's one that looks as if it's just ahead. It dips down into the panhandle, then cuts right into the north corner of New Mexico."

  "Perfect. Keep your eyes open for the turn, and after we're off this road, start looking for a gas station."

  "Good, I need to make a phone call," she murmured as she refolded the map. "I tried to make a call back at the bus station, but the line was busy. That's why I didn't get my ticket before you showed up."

  "It probably saved your skin that the line was busy. If the call had gone through, you would have been standing there talking when the cops went inside, or you would have been at the ticket counter. Either way, they would have caught you."

  "They still could have if you hadn't come in to find me. I probably would have walked right out into their arms."

  Instead, she'd been in his arms. "Well, you didn't."

  "No, I ended up in the men's room sitting in a stall evading the police." She sighed almost wistfully. "I'm sorry I lost it back there. It's just everything seemed so ridiculous … and scary."

  Images of her sitting on his lap or standing in front of him in the stall were burned into his mind, the way the feel of her under his hands seemed to be branded on his skin. "We got out of there," he said quickly. "And we're heading west."

  "Yes, we are," Annie said, and she knew that that was all she could ask for right now.

  When she opened the glove compartment to put the map back, a thick white envelope fell at her feet. She picked it up, put the map back in the glove compartment, then tried to put the envelope in on top of it. But when she tried to close the glove compartment it wouldn't quite snap, so she took the envelope back out and looked at Quint, ready to ask him what to do with it.

  He was facing straight ahead, his eyes on a horizon, which was starting to lighten with the coming dawn. And something in the set of his jaw stopped her from speaking.

  She looked around, then remembered the way the hat was snatched out of the car by the rushing air. Not taking any chances, she pushed the thick envelope down between the seat and the console. Then she closed the glove compartment and sat back. She rested her head on the back support and spotted the sign for the secondary road.

  "There it is," she said to Quint and pointed at the sign.

  Without a word, he slowed the car, turned onto the road, then sped up and headed south toward Texas. Annie closed her eyes, forced her hands open on her thighs and tried to relax. When Quint stopped for gas she could call Jeannie and arrange to meet someplace other than the house or the restaurant. And soon she'd get to Sammi, then she could take off and start a whole new life.

  That thought made her feel good, but at the same time, another thought came. Soon she'd really be saying goodbye to Quint. And that thought hurt, a lot more than it should have.

  She twisted to the right, turning her face to the door, and she concentrated on seeing Sammi again. The next thing she knew, Quint was gently nudging her arm and interrupting a deep and dreamless sleep.

  "Annie, wake up."

  As Quint drew back, she sat up and rubbed at her eyes, then looked around. The sun was fully up now, and it cast a clean, bright light over a land that rolled gently off into distant foothills. Rangeland was spotted with green tufts of grass and runted trees and the air was fresh and warm.

  She twisted in the seat to look behind them, but the narrow road was empty as far as the eye could see. "Where are we?" she asked as she turned to Quint.

  The morning light touched his face, exposing lines etched deeply at his mouth and the shadow of a new beard at his jaw. He wasn't looking at her, yet the sight of him and his closeness hit her hard.

  "We're about ready to drop down into Texas, then we've got a hundred miles to the New Mexico border. According to the signs I've been passing for the past half hour, gas and telephones should be just ahead over that hill. They'd better be there, because we're almost running on fumes."

  She looked away and down the road. A sandwich sign propped on the side of the road announced Gas and Cold Drinks Ahead 1/2 Mile, but the only thing she could see was the empty road. Then they crested the hill and she spotted a clearing. In the middle was a flat-roofed building that looked like a store with powdery adobe walls. To one side, an old mobile home painted a lurid pink was propped up on wooden blocks.

  A huge sign on the roof of the store was faded, but readable: Bill's Place – Cold Beer and Good Food. Three gas pumps shaded by a metal awning stood between the buildings and the road, and a banner strung from the top of the awning to the roof of the building swung in the gentle breeze. It read See the World's Finest Rattlesnake Exhibit.

  "The signs didn't lie," Quint said as he drove off the road and headed to the gas pumps. Dust rose behind the black car, billowing into the warm air as he eased to a stop by the nearest pump. The door to the mobile home opened and a thin, elderly man in oil-stained overalls stepped out. He shaded his eyes with one hand, looked out at the car, then ambled down the wooden steps and across to the pumps.

  "Help ya, mister?" he asked.

  "Fill it with super," Quint said. Then, "Have you got any public phones?"

  "Sure do. Right back there," he said and motioned to the right of the adobe store. "Rest room's back there, too, right by the rattlesnake cages."

  Quint looked at Annie. "Make your call, and I'll
get us some food and drinks."

  "I'll be right back," she said and got out.

  As she crossed the dusty parking lot, the old man called out to her, "Don't forget to see the snakes, Miss, it's free!"

  She waved to him, then kept going around the side of the store and spotted a pay phone on the wall right across from the exhibit. There were several wood and wire raised cages that formed a semicircle and she didn't have to go any closer to see a snake coiled in each one.

  Keeping as much distance between herself and the cages as she could, she went to the pay phone and put in the call to Jeannie. Thankfully, the line wasn't busy and Jeannie answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

  "Jeannie?"

  "Annie, it's you."

  "Yes," she sighed. "It's me."

  "Where are you?"

  She looked around. "Heading toward New Mexico, about a hundred miles from the border."

  "I was worried when we talked before, with your car dying on you and you hitching a ride with some trucker. I know you're desperate, but we could have come for you."

  "I didn't have that much time. And things are all right now." She pressed her forehead against the cool metal of the phone case as she simplified her explanation for Jeannie. "I met someone who's giving me a ride."

  "Who?"

  "His name's Quint and he's going to California."

  "Annie, you're crazy to be hitchhiking. God knows who you'll tangle with."

  "I'm not hitchhiking. I met him and he offered to take me west. Believe me, I'm safe with him." That was so true. She felt more safe with Quint than with anyone she'd ever known. "He used to be a bodyguard. I mean, he's … he's…"

  "Built like a gorilla, probably," Jeannie muttered. "How far is he taking you?"

  "As far as I can get him to." She changed subjects quickly. "I don't have much time, but I wanted to talk to Sammi."

  "Oh, sweetie, she's still asleep. But don't worry, she's being an angel."

  Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she bit her lip hard to keep them under control. She needed to hear her daughter's voice, to have some connection. "Thanks for doing this for me," she whispered.

  "Hey, are you sure you're all right?"

  Besides having the police after her, she was just fine. "I'll survive."

  "What about Trevor? Do you know what happened after you left him lying there?"

  "He's fine, apparently. He's filed assault charges against me."

  "You're kidding?"

  "No, he's got the cops looking for me. And I'm sure he's going to be in Taos looking for me. We're going to have to figure out where to meet when I get there."

  "I'll talk to Charlie and we'll settle on a place. When you get closer, call and we'll make arrangements."

  "I will. Just take care of Sammi and … and tell her I love her."

  "She knows that, sweetie. Just hurry up and get here. She needs you."

  "I need her, too," she said, her voice breaking. She bit her lip hard. "I'll call when I'm an hour away."

  She put the receiver back in the cradle, then turned and stared at the rattlesnakes in their cages. "Damn it all," she muttered and kicked at the rocky ground. Her sandal caught a pebble and sent it ricochetting over the dust to strike the leg of the nearest cage.

  The snake immediately raised its head, the rattles on its tail vibrating menacingly. Annie turned away and hurried back around the building to the car. Quint was nowhere in sight, neither was the old man, so Annie got in and settled against the warm leather.

  She looked up at the sign for the rattlesnake exhibit and thought that any rattlesnake was better than Trevor. The snake at least gave warning before it struck. Trevor just went in for the kill. First, he'd walked out on her when she got pregnant; then he thought he could use Sammi to get his inheritance. Now he was going to take Sammi away from her and have her jailed.

  There was no way she was going to let that happen. No way. She slapped her hand flat on the console and felt something brush her bare leg. When she sat forward and looked down at her feet, she saw the envelope she'd put between the seat and the console lying on the carpet by her purse.

  With a sigh, she reached for it and would have put it back in place but the printed return address caught her attention. Department of Corrections for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. In the center was a typed name, Quinton James Gallagher, and a long number after it. She stared at it until her eyes ached from the glare of the sunlight on the bright white paper.

  And she'd been worrying about being truthful with Quint! No wonder he didn't want to get involved with her and problems with the law. Her hand began to shake and she quickly turned the envelope over. Her breathing was suspended as she tucked her forefinger under the partially sealed flap and tugged at it. The glue gave way easily and the flap lifted to expose several sheets of folded paper.

  She glanced nervously over her shoulder, but no one was there. She looked back at the open envelope, closed her eyes for just a moment, then tugged the folded papers out. As she scanned the packet, her throat tightened. She didn't know what the conviction numbers meant, but she knew what felony meant and what arrest and release dates were.

  She pushed the papers back in the envelope and closed the flap. She'd told Jeannie she felt safe with Quint. But he had been in prison, and it looked as if he just got out days ago. She had no idea what he did, but a felony was serious business. A felony was robbery – or murder.

  She couldn't begin to see Quint as threatening, but it was there in black and white. And she didn't know if she should get out of this car and run, or sit here and wait for him to explain. Or put back the envelope and pretend she never saw it.

  She jumped when Quint called out, "Thanks for everything."

  She turned and saw him coming out of the store, the strong morning light etching him with a clarity that was painful. He'd been her salvation, but at what cost? She'd heard about men who were charming and sweet, then turned out to be serial killers.

  Charming and sweet? Quint had never tried to be either. But he'd been there when she needed him and touched her emotionally and physically in a way no other man ever had. She'd made mistakes, trusting people she never should have trusted, but something deep inside her kept her from getting out of the car and running.

  As Quint came around the car, she watched him. He wasn't any different. And her response to him hadn't changed. She was glad to see him getting into the car and closing the door. And when he held a small grocery bag out to her, she laid the envelope on her lap and took the bag.

  "I hope you like ham sandwiches and Coke," he said.

  "That sounds fine," she murmured as she rested the bag on top of the envelope on her lap.

  Quint looked at her for a long moment, his eyes narrowed in the brightness of the day, then he turned and started the car. He drove back out onto the highway, eased the car up to cruising speed, then said, "I could use a cold drink."

  She took a cold can of soda out of the bag for Quint, handed it to him, then took out one for herself. All she had to do was ask, Why were you in prison? It was simple, but she was having trouble saying the words.

  "Well, are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Quint asked after he took a drink.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Your phone call must have been bad news. You look like you got a real jolt."

  Quickly she popped the tab on her can of soda and took a drink. She let the cool liquid slip down her throat, then she cradled the can in her hands. "I guess you could say that."

  Quint knew something was wrong. He'd known it when he came back to the car and took one look at Annie. Her skin was tinged with paleness, and he could feel the tension in her. Heaven knew, he'd been around her enough in times of stress to recognize the symptoms, and he knew that something was very wrong now.

  "Want to talk about it?" he asked.

  She was silent for such a long time that he finally looked at her. She was staring at the can of soda as she pressed it against the inside of her l
eft wrist. He quickly focused on the road, not the delicate bones of her wrist or the tanned expanse of leg exposed by the beige shorts. "Annie?"

  "What?"

  "Tell me what happened," he said as he pushed his half-full can into the space between the door and his seat. The hairs at the nape of his neck were tingling, a feeling he knew too well when something was wrong, and it was a feeling he hated. "Come on, after everything we've been through, don't do this to me."

  "Do what to you?"

  "Hold out on me. If I'm putting my butt on the line, I deserve the truth. What happened? Did Trevor get to your friend? Are the cops waiting for you in Taos? What?"

  He heard the rustle of paper, and when he glanced at her, he saw her putting the grocery bag on the floor by her feet, then she sat back. Without a word, she held out a white envelope to him, and he didn't have to take it to know it held his parole papers.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  « ^ »

  "I deserve the truth, too," Annie said.

  Quint snatched the envelope from her hand. He'd forgotten about it and seeing her with it made him realize how ugly his past had really been. He pushed the envelope under his seat, but didn't look at Annie again. He stared straight ahead, and he hated the way his breathing became tight. "You opened it," he said, not a question, but a statement of what he already knew. "I'm surprised."

  "It was here and the flap wasn't stuck very well."

  "Oh, not about you opening it. I sure as hell would have opened it if I'd been in your position. I'm surprised that you didn't jump out and run for your life."

  "I thought about it," she said.

  "Then you should have. I told you way back you could have been getting in the car with a psycho."

  "I thought you were trying to scare me."

  "I was," he said, his eyes burning and the images down the road beginning to blur. "And trying to get you to stay at your car and wait for help. But you insisted on coming with me."

  "Why were you in … that place?"

  "Prison, it was prison. A place where a person's not a person and the only respect you get is from other cons you beat up before they can go for you. A place where humanity is lost and you start living on the level of an animal. I was locked up for two years."