My One and Only(62)

A flock of blackbirds—dozens…no, hundreds of them—suddenly wheeled out in front of us. Fleeing the storm.

“Let the record reflect the Biblical signs of doom,” I said.

“Relax. Coco’s not nervous, is she?” I glanced at my dog. She sat on Nick’s lap, bunny in her mouth, staring at Nick, trying to hypnotize him into worshipping her for the rest of his life. Bad enough that my father, BeverLee and Willa all adored Nick. Now my dog had fallen, too. Suppressing a sigh, I looked ahead at the endless, straight road. It was now three o’clock. Had Nick broken the little-old-lady speed barrier and/or taken the interstate, I’d be on an airplane right now.

This was not good. Being around Nick…it was like taking a lovely stroll in the forest, sun shining all around, birds serenading, flowers perfuming the air, and then a rabid wolverine leaps out of nowhere and rips open your jugular.

“You ever regret divorcing me?” he asked, looking up abruptly.

See, Your Honor? I rest my case. “Nick, let’s not do this, okay? We divorced each other many years ago. In two more hours, maybe less, we’ll be in Bismarck. Two hours till we part ways. Can’t we all just get along?” I glanced over at him. The wind ruffled his hair—we still had the top down, as Nick was living the dream and all that—but his eyes were steady. “Do you?”

“I regret that we got married so young, Nick. We were naive, if not breathtakingly stupid.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

“How lucky for you.”

“Remember our honeymoon?”

Crotch! “No. The electric shock therapy has done its job. Please, Nick. Let’s not talk about it.”

“Scared?”

“No! I’m just sensible. There’s no point in doing this. We’re different people now. Why pick scabs, huh? Huh, Nick? We’ve moved on.”

“Right. You’re with Dennis now.”

I didn’t correct him. He shifted in his seat, facing forward once again. Mercifully, his cell phone chimed, and I forced myself to unclench my fists from around the wheel. Nick glanced at the screen and his smile flashed like the lightning up ahead. “Hi, honey,” he said. Honey? Honey? Who was honey?

“I’m fine. What’s new with you? Oh, yeah? That’s great.” I glanced over at him, but he was smiling, petting Coco’s head as she now slept on his lap. “Oh, I’m fine. I’m in…let’s see…North Dakota. It’s flat. Open. A little spooky, maybe.” He laughed. “Okay. Love you, too. Bye.”

So. He had a honey. And he loved his honey. Why hadn’t he said anything? I was finding it a little hard to take a normal breath. Calm down, Harper, I told myself. Nick had a girlfriend. To be expected, after all. Just…surprising. We’d been together for the past four days, and he hadn’t said a word.

“So what’s her name?” I asked.

“Isabel.”

Isabel. Not a name one could mock, like Farrah or Bitsy. Nope. A real name.

“What does she do for a living?”

“She’s a student,” he answered.

Well! A little young, wouldn’t we say? A student. Really. What a cliché. Successful older man who drives red convertible Mustang also dates younger woman to demonstrate continued virility. Or maybe she wasn’t that much younger. Maybe she was getting her degree part-time. “Where does she go to school?”

“NYU,” he answered. “She’s a freshman.”

“Nick!” I sputtered. “A freshman? That’s just…gross. I’m sorry. You’re dating an 18-year-old? She’s half your age!”

“I’m aware of that, Harper,” he said. “But I’m not dating her. She’s my stepdaughter.”

My mouth fell open, my head whipped around to look at him. “You’re married?” I screeched.

“Watch it, Harper!” Nick said, and there was a thudding sound, and we bounced up and down. Coco yelped in surprise, and then there was a hiss, some steam, and the engine just died, and we coasted to a very anticlimactic stop.

Then the heavens opened, and hail rained down upon us like God’s wrath.

“Shit!” Nick yelled. “Harper, you ran over an antelope!”

“What? Oh, no!” I grabbed Coco to shield her little frame from the hailstones, wincing as they pinged off my head.

Nick turned around and grabbed the Mustang’s top, hauling it into place, clamping it to the top of the windshield. The noise of the hail was deafening. Coco barked.

I glanced at Nick. “An antelope?” I had to raise my voice to be heard.

“Roadkill,” he said, sweeping hailstones onto the floor.

“It was already dead? You sure?”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t just napping there, Harper.”

“In the road?”

“No, in the clouds! Yes, in the road! You ran over it! Don’t you remember?”

“Okay! I’m sorry! You shocked me, that’s all.” I paused. “So why did the car stop?”

“How should I know? I barely know how to drive.”

“At least you admit it.”

He gave me a dark look, and then I was laughing, so hard I was just squeaking, tears spurting out of my eyes, and Nick shook his head and started laughing, too. For a long time, there was just that—the rough drumming of the hail on the car, thunder rolling across the endless sky, my occasional squeak and Nick’s lovely, lovely laugh.