21. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
U nfortunately, although they’d eaten the most mouth-watering food for dinner, the traffic was only marginally better by the time they resumed their trip.
“We’re not going to make it to San Antonio tonight, are we?” Cleo finally voiced the question she’d had since the slow-down had started.
“I don’t think so,” Clark confirmed, adjusting the heat. “Not unless you’re up for driving through the night.”
Cleo was not up for that. Besides, they’d be getting to San Antonio too late to knock on her mom’s door tonight; she’d probably have to get a hotel room once she got there anyway, so she might as well get one now.
“I’ll start looking for a hotel nearby,” she replied.
“Try to find one where we get the last room with the last bed in it,” Clark joked. “Hey, it’s tradition!” he chuckled as Cleo shoved him.
“I may not be able to afford my own room, but I can definitely afford my own bed.” However, when Cleo searched for hotels nearby, she found none. The only thing she could find out here in the middle of nowhere was a series of tiny cabins, and of course there appeared to only be one available. She booked it, praying there would somehow be two beds.
Cleo worked on getting their things out of the car while Clark checked them in. When he returned he wouldn’t meet Cleo’s eyes. They hauled their stuff down to the last cabin, where they found one bed pushed into the corner to leave space for a small sitting area next to it with a table and two chairs. There were checkered curtains in the windows, yet there didn’t appear to be a bathroom.
“What is this?”
Clark dropped his bags onto the chair and said, “It’s the only option we’ve got; that’s what it is.”
“I am not sharing a bed with you again.”
“Well, lucky for you, it can separate into two beds.” He pulled up the comforter and sheets and began hauling the bed apart until he had two twins. Cleo perked up and began maneuvering the chairs and table between the two. It left very little room to move around it, but at least she’d have her own space. She straightened the sheets and comforter, much too large for the bed now.
When she turned around, Clark was busy hanging a blanket down the center of the room. He’d moved the two tall floor lamps, the only lights the room had, into the space between the beds and draped the blanket over them. It afforded very little privacy, and Cleo cocked her head to the side, bewildered. “What is this?”
“It’s our Wall of Jericho,” he replied. “I wouldn’t want you to get any ideas tonight.”
“Yes, you should definitely worry about me getting ideas.” That Cleo had been thinking some thoughts about Clark earlier could not show on her face right now.
“Well, this wall should put an end to those then.” Cleo noted that the blanket wall barely reached her neck when standing, and didn’t even stretch the full length of the beds, so it wasn’t going to do much. But Cleo knew it was mostly a private joke he was continuing anyway.
Clark sat on the edge of his bed and began removing his shoes while Cleo found her brush and began moving it through her brown locks. His voice was muffled a bit by the wool blanket separating them. “So, I may have told a little white lie to the owners back there.”
“What?”
“Well, they were an older couple who I’m pretty certain think it’s still 1952. They asked me if we were married.”
“They did what?”
“I didn’t ask why they wanted to know, but the disapproving look on their faces convinced me they weren’t going to rent me the room if we weren’t married.”
“But that’s illegal.”
“I don’t think at this late hour that we should dispute the legality of such a question. We’re only going to be here for a few hours, so I told them we’re married.”
Cleo stopped brushing her hair. “How did you know there were two beds then?”
“The woman made a comment about how we could separate the beds if we were more comfortable with that. I Love Lucy was playing in the background, so maybe she thinks we’re one of those couples who prefers to sleep apart.”
“Does she know that even in the ‘50’s couples only slept apart on TV?”
“Right. But I assured her that we like to sleep together, that this is even our honeymoon, and we’d be most grateful for the bigger bed.”
“You did what?”
Clark chuckled. “I got a little carried away. I figured it doesn’t really matter, since we’ll put the room to rights in the morning before we leave anyway.”
Cleo rolled her eyes and found her toothbrush. It really didn’t matter ? She’d rather not be someone’s pretend wife, thank you very much, but she didn’t say that aloud. She was too tired. “And where do I go when nature calls ?”
“Ah yes, there’s a separate cabin with bathrooms in it. We passed it on the way here.”
Cleo grabbed her pajamas and sighed as she descended the steps to find the bathroom. This was not the hotel experience she was hoping for.
When she returned from brushing her teeth, the lamps were turned low and Clark’s stockinged feet were peeking out of the blanket wall. Cleo climbed under the covers and noticed that if she turned her head she could only see Clark’s head on his pillow. Ironically, the Wall of Jericho made her feel like she was being a peeper now, rather than offering more privacy.
Cleo was staring at the ceiling, her hands clasped over her stomach, when Clark spoke. “I’m sorry we didn’t make it to your mom in San Antonio tonight. I guess the accident slowing us down was pretty bad.” Cleo felt sorry for anyone who’d been involved in the accident, and couldn’t be angry that it had lengthened her trip. It was probably better not to show up to her mom’s door late in the evening anyway.
“It’s okay. I hope it hasn’t messed up your plans.” Plans that she still couldn’t figure out. Clark was definitely hiding something.
“It hasn’t. I should be grateful for the traffic.”
“Why’s that? Because it let you be victorious in our game?”
His answer was so quiet she almost missed it. “No. It let me spend more time with you.”
Those words pressed down on her like a weighted blanket. She turned to find Clark studying her. His umber eyes were searching–for what, she didn’t know. Holding his gaze, she took a breath in, words begging to burst out of her. She wanted to tell him how much she loved bantering with him, how all the flirtatious comments and touches had become the highlight of her day. She wanted to ask what the looks meant and if he was only messing around or if any of this could mean something outside of this road trip bubble they were in.
Instead, she forced the words down and let the breath back out. No matter how much she wanted him to know, she couldn’t allow anything to distract her from her goal. She didn’t have the luxury right now of hoping that he might be feeling the same things she was. She needed to focus on finding her mom, and she needed to talk to Jameson to make sure he knew where she stood, though there was no way he could possibly misinterpret her absence.
She opened her mouth to somehow break the tension in the room when a voice called, “Knock knock” from outside. Cleo sprang up from her bed and bumped into the frame, muffling a curse as she grabbed her bruised shin. Clark whipped the blanket down off the lamps, nearly toppling one in his haste. Cleo dove for it and broke its fall a foot from the floor. Clark cursed under his breath as a heavy hand knocked on the door.
“Oh dear, I hope we’re not interrupting anything,” a woman’s voice said.
Cleo whisper-yelled, “What are they doing here?”
Clark replied, “How should I know? Maybe they offer turn-down service.”
“In the middle of the night? To newlyweds?”
“They’re old. Maybe they forgot what people do on their honeymoons.”
A male voice said, “Maybe we should come back tomorrow.”
“But I wanted them to have this,” the woman said.
Cleo found a coat closet that she threw the extra blankets and sheets into while Clark attempted to quietly rearrange the furniture. She helped him move the chairs and table out of the way so they could shove the beds back together again. The heavy frame didn’t move quietly, and Cleo hated to think what the elderly couple thought might be the cause of the bed groaning across the floor.
The room was still in disarray but was going to have to be clean enough since Clark had already moved to the door and unlocked it just as the man’s fist was raised to knock again. He dropped it and two gray heads peered around him to see Cleo standing by the bed.
“Can I help you?” Clark asked.
“So sorry to disturb,” the man started, “but the missus here wanted to give you something.”
“On account of you bein’ newlyweds and all,” she added.
Clark moved back and allowed the couple to come inside. They were both stooped with age but seemed spry enough as the woman held out a potted plant to Cleo. She took it, noticing that the pot was cradled inside a crocheted holder, probably homemade.
“This is lovely,” she said.
“It’s a fertility plant,” the woman told her, and Cleo nearly dropped it on her toe. “So that you might have many little’uns to bless your life together.”
Clark moved next to Cleo and awkwardly put his arm around her. “That’s mighty thoughtful of you,” he said.
Cleo wanted to shove her elbow into his side since this was all his fault, but she said instead, “Yes, very thoughtful.”
“We had eleven children ourselves,” the man bragged, sticking out his chest. “These cabins have provided well for us.” They gazed into each other’s faces then, and Cleo couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that reverberated through her. She wanted to grow old with someone who would look at her like that when she was wrinkly and gray.
“Wow, what a progeny,” Clark stated.
The woman turned back to Clark and said, “You have to kiss your bride while she holds the fertility plant if you want it to work.” Cleo had a sudden vision of having the plant in bed with them while they tried for kids, then immediately pushed that thought away. It was wrong on so many levels.
Clark’s arm tightened fractionally around Cleo, and she realized that he was probably wondering whether the couple was going to stand there and wait until he kissed Cleo in front of them. He cleared his throat and looked down at her mouth, as Cleo tried to pull away.
“Go ahead,” the woman prodded. “Don’t be shy.”
That sly little fox. She was totally going to watch until Clark and Cleo kissed! Cleo was just about to thank them for coming and usher them out when Clark dipped his head and planted a firm kiss on her lips, startling her so badly that she did drop the plant. She quickly caught it before it hit either of their feet, but it was close.
“Ooh boy, I remember when your kisses used to do that to me,” the man hooted to his wife.
She playfully slapped his chest and said, “Well, we’ll leave you now to…continue,” the woman giggled, and Cleo gripped the plant tighter before she could let it fall again. This couple remembered full well what people did on their honeymoon.
They shuffled across the threshold and down the steps into the night as Clark closed and locked the door behind them.
When he turned, he leaned back against the door, looked at Cleo, then at the plant, then at Cleo again, mirth filling his eyes. A laugh burst out of her, and she collapsed onto the bed holding her stomach, only to realize that she was still gripping a fertility plant on a bed she was meant to share with Clark. She jolted upright and half-threw the plant at Clark like it was on fire.
“Put that thing…somewhere else!” she commanded. “I’m so mad at you, I could–.”
“What are you talking about? That’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” He looked at her mouth as he said this, and Cleo wasn’t sure if the fun for him was in the lying or in the kiss.
“Can you believe them?”
“I can. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past them to have conceived one of those eleven children right here.”
Cleo’s jaw dropped and she shoved Clark’s chest. “Take that back! I’m not sleeping here now!”
“Where will you go?”
“To the car!”
Cleo tried to shove Clark out of the way to open the door, but he grasped her arms and held her in place. She struggled against him but it was futile; she could hardly move.
He said quietly, “I was only kidding. I’ll put the plant outside. I’m sure not a soul has done anything in this cabin before us. Let’s just go to bed.” He winced at that word and amended, “To sleep. Let’s go to sleep.” They scooted the beds apart again and Cleo climbed into hers and attempted to get comfortable while Clark turned out the light.
The atmosphere in the cabin was still charged, but Cleo bit her lip to keep from saying something she shouldn’t. Clark rolled over and faced the wall, not saying anything either. His breaths never evened out and Cleo wondered if he was struggling to sleep as much as she was, despite how tired she felt. Her eyes finally closed, but in her dreams she was followed by a specter that disappeared each time she tried to catch a glimpse of it, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d crossed a line they couldn’t go back from.