by Linda Hanna
Tammy patted her hand. “James won’t let that happen. He’s always had very high morals. God will give him the wisdom he needs in this situation. You and Ed need to visit those grandkids more often.” The sound of laughter entered the Tea Room when the door opened. Tammy looked up. “Oh there’s a group of Red Hatters. I’d better get back to work.” She stood and hugged Cora’s shoulder, then picked up the bill. “Lunch is on the house. Oh, and please come back.”
Unable to finish her sandwich, Cora pushed the uneaten portion aside. She gathered her things and left a nice tip. Good memories were all that were left of Vanessa, and she wanted to build on that. Instead, the conversation turned to the accident, and alienation of her grandkids.
Within a few minutes, Cora had arrived at the Salon de Belleza. The intense odor of a new perm accosted her nostrils as she scanned the room for her hairdresser. A plume of hairspray quickly fogged the cubicle as Andre finished his client.
He smiled and waved. “Cora, love of my life!” He motioned for her to take a seat at the shampoo bowl.
Soon the warm water and Andre’s soothing scalp massage eased Cora’s pent-up tension. Her mind drifted back to the conversation with Tammy. It was true, she and Ed should have more involvement with Vannie’s children. However, the kids wouldn’t be wowed if they took them from the flashy lights of Sin City to Prune Acres, USA. Still, they all needed new memories. Oooh, a trip to Hawaii sounded good. Without James and Jocelyn. That worked. The thought of the grandkids all to herself was a great boost to get through the day.
“…and don’t forget to tell Dahlia. She likes a good bargain.” Andre’s voice snapped her back to reality. He wrapped her head in a warm towel. “Cora, did you hear me?”
What had he been talking about? There wasn’t enough time to have him reprise his whole monologue, so she wiped water from her neck and smiled. “Oh yes, she likes her bargains.”
A short time later, Andre gave her the hand mirror, and turned the chair to let her see the end result. The bell above the shop door jingled. Andre turned and looked. “There’s Anne, my one-fifteen.” He unfastened the cape and shook it. “See ya next week, dear.” He turned to the new customer and held out his arms. “Annie, love of my life!”
Cora paid for the wash and set, along with a jar of Velvety Dew. The wall clock indicated she had forty-five minutes to get to Phoenix and follow through with her plans.
She wasn’t accustomed to the heavier traffic on the Phoenix highway. It was like being on a souped-up conveyer belt with no controls. Valley Metro buses snaked into the stream of traffic, and belched their exhaust. She had left her comfort zone far behind.
Cora’s heart raced. She sat ramrod straight and maneuvered into the turn lane. The red light gave her enough time to pull the slip of paper from her purse and confirm the address of her destination. So far, so good. Only one more turn after this. The directions she’d written were accurate. She glanced at the dashboard clock. Ten minutes until two.
With little time to spare, she pulled into an empty space in the parking garage, and looked into the visor mirror. “Well, Cora, this is it. Your last chance to back out.”
****
It was nearly noon when Ed stopped at a downtown intersection. He knew this was the area Cora had marked on the map and he began to look for Baxter Boulevard.
A prominent sign came into view. “Would you look at that, there it is. Pegasi Café.” Ed seethed as he looked in vain for a place to park. Was she in there now? He circled the block and made another pass, in search of his wife’s car. Not a Lincoln in sight. He decided to pick up his trophies and return.
The clerk at Apache Trophies and Awards spent several minutes sharing his latest golf jokes. Ed wasn’t in the mood for Chester’s corny style of jocularity, but for the sake of their business relationship, he had to endure it.
With his purchase finally loaded, and dour disposition intact, Ed quickly reset his course for Baxter Boulevard.
The Pegasi parking lot was still filled to capacity. After Ed made several laps around the block, he eventually found an empty spot across the street. What should he do now? Go inside? If he did go in and found her…he couldn’t finish the thought.
Ed remembered the first time he met Cora at a Stuckey’s gift shop. He was with his sister, Judy, as she bought fudge. The pretty honey-blonde behind the counter caught his attention right away.
Judy said, “This handsome man with red ears, is my big brother, Ed, and he thinks you’re groovy. He didn’t take his eyes off you all through breakfast.”
Heat rose in his face as he selected pecan logs, and fumbled for change. His mind raced to strike up a conversation with Cora. “Do you like pecan logs?”
The pretty blonde said, “Yes, but I favor Tootsie Rolls.”
Ed smiled. That’s when he decided to call her Tootsie. When she took his money, their hands lingered, and he instantly knew she was “the one.” His whole life changed in that moment, and he longed for her to be a part of it. In nearly forty years, the longing was as strong as ever.
A scream from an ambulance siren jerked Ed from the past. His mind reverted to the condemning picture he’d found in Cora’s drawer. Had he lost his Tootsie for good? What would life be without her?
Ed resumed his watch of the Pegasi entrance and prayed, “Oh Lord, what shall I do?”
The wait was long and he had nearly lost his patience when a taxi pulled up across the street. His jaw dropped as a lady and a distinguished younger man, walked arm-in-arm out of the restaurant. The man pulled her close, and she nestled her head on his shoulder as they walked to the cab.
“Cora?”
Still in shock, Ed quickly reached for the snapshot in his shirt pocket. Was it the same man? He leaned forward and squinted, unable to get a good look at him. Where were they going? Wherever it was, he was going to follow them. He put the car in gear and edged forward.
Tires squealed and horns honked.
Ed slammed on the brakes and punched the steering wheel as the passing traffic blocked him in. The cab sped off and left him behind to stew in his misery from this unexpected trauma.
The disturbing scene at the café was etched in his mind. Ed fumed as he drove aimlessly through the busy streets, and peered at every taxi in sight. He continued to weigh the gravity of the situation. The shock of Cora’s unfaithfulness cut him to the quick.
The only thing he could do was go home and wait. For all these years, he thought he knew his beloved wife. Obviously, Cora had a secret life. He had to contrive a way for her to have no other option, but to admit the truth.
In his anger, Ed finally came up with a plan to “innocently” lure Cora back to the café for lunch the next day to check her reaction. There he would challenge her with what he had discovered and demand a full explanation.
9
Cora headed home in the hectic rush hour traffic. A Valley Metro bus pulled up beside her at the stoplight, and blocked her view of the exit sign ahead. Her eyes frantically searched the area. Convinced this was her turn, she flipped on her signal in anticipation.
“I hate driving in heavy traffic,” she grumbled. “Now, Mr. Metro bus, if you’ll let me get over, I’ll be all set.”
The bus driver motioned to her. She pulled into the turn-only lane in front of him, and waved a thank you. Cora saw the exit sign. She gulped and an iron weight fell on her shoulders. I-10 E. This wasn’t right. It was one turn too soon. Fear, combined with worry, quickly knotted inside. Her head began to ache. “It’s too late,” she cried. She was headed for the wrong freeway and couldn’t turn back.
Heavy traffic clamored around her which made it impossible to change lanes. Road signs whizzed past and not a single one mentioned Saguaro Valley. Where was she, anyway?
Both lanes slowed and finally came to a standstill. Cora could see red lights flashing in the distance surrounding an overturned semi. This had all the earmarks of a long wait. She put the car in park, but kept it running for the air conditi
oner.
With a heavy heart, she mulled over the day’s erratic events. She left home early in order to get a break, however, her worries had more than tripled. Now, this new wrinkle topped it all. Would she be able to turn around and get home before dark? Ed must be pacing the floor.
She reached for her cell phone. No signal. There was nothing more she could do at this point. The cell phone was his idea. He’d just have to pace.
Cora groped in the glove compartment to retrieve the Phoenix area map. Maybe she could find her location. Feverishly, she poked her hand deeper into the compartment. Where was it? A flashlight loudly thumped to the floor quickly followed by a bulky pair of wrap-around sunglasses. She grabbed a handful of golf pencils along with wad of restaurant napkins. The glove compartment was now empty except for the diver’s manual and a lone straw. Everything else lay heaped on the passenger seat. Cora remembered marking the route in yellow, and was sure she’d put the map back in the glove box. Had she dropped it in her haste to escape Ed’s third degree? Her impatience intensified. Cora growled and stuffed the motley mix back into their cramped confinement.
She slammed the compartment door shut and angrily began to second-guess herself. Her hand searched the pockets on the doors. The map had to be there somewhere. Maybe it was in the back.
When she turned in her seat, she caught a glimpse of the growing string of vehicles lined up at least a mile behind her. She appreciated being near the front of this untimely parade.
Her appreciation quickly waned as a rhythmic beat emanated from the car next to her.
The grizzled, unshaven driver sported a pencil thin braid down his back. Obviously, the man was a remnant from the flower-power generation. He joyfully convulsed in sync with the vibrating noises, which had to register at least a point four on the Richter scale.
It had to be his favorite song since he played it for twenty minutes. Even then, the only recognizable words were: gotta have peace, gotta have peace.
How could a body find a smattering of peace with that racket?
The monotonous pounding droned nonstop. She’d reached her limit of harsh boom-diddy-booms, yet, was surprised when the repetitious lyrics got to her. The words emphasized her need for the peace that seemed to elude her.
The verse she memorized as a child came back to her. John 14:27. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, I give unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. She turned on the radio to ignore the Voice, and cranked up the volume—to point five on the Richter scale.
A calm voice came from the radio and flooded the Lincoln. “When we place our worries and concerns into God’s hands, He faithfully rewards us with His magnificent peace.”
Cora turned the radio off and then covered her face with trembling hands. If only she could believe that once more. For two years she’d turned her back on God. Would He hear her cry? Even after all this time? The Holy Spirit was wearing away her resolve. A tear fell onto her wrist as she whispered, “Help my disbelief.”
The cars in front of her inched forward. The accident scene took nearly an hour to clear. Cora was relieved to finally escape the head-throbbing rock music. However, she couldn’t dodge the Holy Spirit.
The flow of cars and trucks eventually thinned. She’d turn at the next exit. There had to be a place to get directions. Cora’s stiff hands gripped the steering wheel as tightly as possible. The minutes dragged and seemed like hours.
The lush foothills yielded to monotonous desert terrain. On every side of her, diverse varieties of cactus intermingled with a scattering of mesquite and creosote bushes. Scraggly underbrush had joined with free blowing tumbleweeds. Isolated, withered, forsaken. Like her life since Vanessa’s death.
I’ve promised never to leave you, nor forsake you, Cora.
The scorching heat waned as the sun descended on the horizon. Tears spilled down her cheeks as a magnificent display of taupe, red-orange, and mauve filled the western sky.
Cora sniffed. Her heart longed to reach out to God’s promise, but her mind still wasn’t convinced. She leaned over and fumbled for a tissue. The car swerved and interrupted her concentration, and the crucial off-ramp whizzed by. She decided to make a U-turn. However, as she looked into the rearview mirror, the three roaring semis on her tail helped her reevaluate.
Several miles passed before another exit sign was visible. She successfully turned off the active freeway, and her tires hit the slow-down rumble strips of the sloping ramp. The speed of the pulsating Lincoln slowed. Relieved at her return to civilization, Cora pulled into the parking lot of a gas station and convenience store. Two big floodlights illuminated the area.
Cora entered the store. A youthful attendant stood on a small step stool, to fill the soda fountain with ice. Cora stood in his line of vision. “Excuse me, young man. I’m on my way home from Phoenix and trying to get to Saguaro Valley. Am I close?”
“Saguaro Valley?” He pushed up the bill of his cap. “Never heard of it. Is it in Mexico?”
“Mexico? No, it’s near Phoenix.”
“Wow, lady, you’re not even close.” He shook his head. Water dripped down his arm as he continued to fill the machine. “The huge sign for the Mexican border should’ve clued you in.”
There was a sign? Good thing she stopped for directions before being frisked by the border cops and snuffled by guard dogs.
“I didn’t know I was that lost.” She lifted her hands from the counter and momentarily pressed them onto her aching temples. This was one more secret to keep from Ed. “Could you help me, please?” she asked the young man. “I lost my map and took the wrong exit.”
“Just a minute. Let me finish what I’m doin’.” The young man wiped his hands on his ripped jeans as he stepped off the stool. He pulled an Arizona map from under the counter and looked at the list of cities and towns. “Hey! There really is a Saguaro Valley. OK, first, you want to get back on Sasabe Highway and go about ten or twelve miles until—”
Cora held up her hand to stop him. “Wait. Could you give it to me in landmarks? I don’t know my directions very well.” She pulled a napkin from a nearby dispenser, and prepared to jot down the information.
He huffed. “I can get you to the Interstate, but after that you’re on your own with the landmarks, grandma.” The smart-alecky kid pointed outside. “OK, see this road right here?”
Cora nodded, and felt a surge of vexation at his condescending tone.
“Go that way until you come to the Bacadillo Hut. Hang a right at the light and that will get you back on the highway. Got that? Now, take the...” he paused to count. “Take the fourth exit, no wait, make that the fifth exit, then turn left. That road will take you right to I-10 which should take you close to Saguaro Valley.” He looked up with a smirk and added. “Eventually.”
“Bacadillo Hut. Got it. Now, what was the rest?”
He took the napkin and scrawled the directions as he mumbled, “Old people shouldn’t be allowed to drive.”
At that point, Cora couldn’t have agreed more. Wearied, she thanked the impertinent teenager, grabbed the napkin and hurried to her car. She drove off. At least she could make it to the Bacadillo Hut with no problem. After that, who knew?
She unwrinkled the makeshift map and read out loud. “Right at light. Boy, Junior. I hope you know what you’re talking about and not sending this old lady on a wild goose chase.”
A Bucket o’ Cluck restaurant and a few specialty shops were located by the highway’s on- and off-ramps. She was finally headed in the right direction. Cora breathed a little easier and relaxed. She adjusted the rearview mirror to block the glaring, uneven headlights of the car behind her.
Mile after mile, she cautiously ventured deeper into the low hills. The terrain continued to change as the hills became more prominent. It was so late. Why hadn’t she called Ed back at that convenience store when she had the chance? He was probably worried sick about her.
A sign came into v
iew. “Iguana Bend!” she shouted. “I know where I am now.” That’s where she visited Letitia in the local heart center. Encouragement lifted her spirits.
New housing developments had sprung up, hiding the old landmarks she had once relied upon. Before long, she came to a recognizable stretch of road. Almost home.
The relief was short-lived.
A quick and disturbing thought continued to plague her as she glanced into the rearview mirror. It was crazy, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the same dark car with misaligned halogen headlights had followed her for several miles.
Cora slowed so the car could pass. It slowed, too. She picked up speed, and it kept pace with her. Uh-oh. Was he really following her or was this her overactive imagination kicking into high gear?
A sudden turn onto a side road with the mysterious car in hot pursuit brought the truth home. His brights flashed and momentarily blinded her. Phantom stalker, indeed! The malicious driver pulled up close behind her, only inches from her car. A jolt rocked her as his car made contact. Once, then twice. His horn blared.
Did he expect her to pull over? In the middle of nowhere?
“Not on your life, weirdo. There have been too many people on my phone, in my house, and in my dresser.”
Dahlia’s advice echoed in her ears. “It’s time to stop bein’ the victim.”
Temper forced her usually timid disposition to change. It was either fight or flight. Cora chose both. With empowerment, determination, and adrenaline pumping, she sped up to put some distance between them. Under normal circumstances she’d never drive at this perilous speed.
The chase continued for another two miles. Cora had to keep her wits about her. It would be too dangerous to be isolated off the main road with a maniac on her bumper. She peered into the mirror again. The vehicle had fallen back considerably.
As the Lincoln rounded a curve, Cora could see a small house in the distance. If she turned her lights off and backed into the darkened driveway, the unshakable predator might not notice her and drive by.
