Part 10 (1/2)
So we had a small forced vacation, which about drove both of us crazy. By Christmas week, we were both eager for trouble. Anything to keep us busy.
Fortunately, I knew just the place to find all the trouble we wanted.
”How fast are we going?”
I glanced over at Ca.s.sie. ”We're legal. Why?”
”That's not what I meant.” She leaned all the way over to check the speedometer. ”This car goes a lot faster than that. I bet you can get it all the way up to 55 if you really try.”
”Speed limit's 55 on this road.”
”Do you see anyone else doing the speed limit?”
A huge truck almost blew us off the road as it pa.s.sed, making me grip the wheel for dear life. The last thing I needed today was to wreck Ca.s.sie's BMW. If the crash didn't kill me, she would.
”b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” Ca.s.sie said, glowering at the truck. ”I hope you die soon.”
”Your Christmas spirit needs a little work,” I told her, amused.
”Don't change the subject. Can't you at least do 60?”
Of course, but I didn't want to. Every mile we traveled got us a mile closer to home, and there was no reason to hurry to get there.
”Devvy?”
”The road's a little slick. Don't want to take any chances. Especially not with you, sweetheart.”
That almost got me a kiss -- almost, because she caught on at the last second. Ca.s.sie knew me a little too well.
”Try lying to someone who doesn't sleep with you,” she advised. ”You just don't want to do this, do you?”
”It's not that I don't want to do it. It's...” No, actually, it was that I didn't want to do it. ”Never mind.”
Another monstrous truck barreled by; she threw a withering glare after it. ”I can't think with all this pa.s.sing going on. Pull over first chance you get.”
”There's nothing for a few miles.”
”Then that would be the first chance, wouldn't it?”
Irritably, I pulled my sungla.s.ses down to regard the woman more closely. She smiled sweetly and then pointedly turned to look out her window.
Fine. If she wanted to be that way, fine. There was nothing much to see between Meridian and Hawthorne anyway but farmland, billboards, and the occasional pay lake, one of which we were pa.s.sing just then. CHASE'S, a big wooden sign said, right above a crudely painted fish. Fis.h.i.+ng was none of my business, but it had always seemed to me that if the fish in that lake looked anything like the sign, people would be better off going to the grocery.
Then there was the occasional cl.u.s.ter of houses, not enough to const.i.tute a town but too many to be a coincidence. They never changed, even if their occupants did. Even after all these years, I could still pick out the ones that had the lawn jockeys, the sun b.a.l.l.s, the windmills -- and the one that had all of the above and the concrete dwarves. Right now, in honor of the season, the dwarves would all be wearing Santa hats. It wasn't something I necessarily needed to see again.
I slowed down a little more, hoping Ca.s.sie wouldn't notice.
”What on earth is that up ahead?” she asked suddenly, tapping her side of the winds.h.i.+eld.
”The ice tree.”
”The what?”
”Ice tree. The people who live there make it every Christmas. They put this really heavy plastic over the trees and spray water on it till it freezes. It takes a couple of weeks to build up enough ice. Then they put food coloring on it.” Unwillingly, I smiled. ”At night, they have floodlights, so you can see it from miles away. Want me to slow down so you can get a better look?”
Lost in stunned contemplation, Ca.s.sie didn't answer, so I slowed down anyway. It gave me an excuse to look myself. Not that I was going to admit it to her, but I kind of liked the thing.
”Wow,” she finally said.
”Like it?”
She got her evasive look. I'd always hated that one. ”Do you?”
”You haven't seen anything yet. Wait till we get to Hawthorne. I'll take you on a Christmas-lights tour.”
”You don't scare me, Devvy.”
”No? Are you sure? There's a house that has a 15-foot inflatable snowman. They light it up at night, too -- not that you could really miss a 15-foot inflatable snowman in somebody's front yard. The people next door...”
”Rest stop,” she interrupted.
”I'm not tired. Anyway, the house next door has...”
”No, I mean there's a rest stop ahead. Pull off. I want to talk.”
I considered pointing out that we were talking and quickly decided against it. Without comment, I pulled into the rest stop, parking as far away from other cars as possible. No point risking some idiot scratching Ca.s.sie's paint. ”All right, we're pulled off. What's on your mind?”
”I want to know what's on your mind. You're driving like you're on your way to your own execution.” Turning all the way sideways, she fixed me with her most intent blue gaze. ”Is there something I need to know?”
”You'll know everything you need to know soon enough. Five minutes with my mother, and you'll think your family is the Cleavers.”
”Get real -- n.o.body wants to be the Cleavers. Besides, your mother can't be that bad.”
I didn't even smile.
”She doesn't have a tail. She doesn't breathe fire. I've met her, remember? Sure, she was a little cranky, but...”
”You don't even know what 'cranky' is yet.”
”Bet I do. I know you, don't I?” She reached over for my hand and discreetly pressed it to her lips for a split-second. ”I think...what's wrong?”
I yanked my hand back before answering. ”Don't do that. Not in public. Not around here.”