Speed Demons Page 9

  “Don’t start berating yourself for that too. It’s not hard to tell someone ‘it wasn’t your fault.’ Didn’t you have counseling at the clinic?”

  “I hated it. They went way back to my childhood, to my relationship with my parents. To their divorce. Their divorce! I was fucking five years old when they split.”

  “Ambitious therapist, but since they knew you were only going to be there a few months, they might have been more successful if they’d been a little less meticulous. Did you even get past your teens before you left?”

  Evie chuckled, which stopped her from shaking. “No. I was about at that stage when I started to think about sex.”

  “Really?” Blythe snorted. “And which age are we talking about in your case? Early developed or a late bloomer?”

  “Early developed physically. Late bloomer before getting the full picture.” Evie knew she was blushing and hid her face, even if she was alone.

  “Huh. What does that mean?” Blythe sounded genuinely puzzled.

  “I developed early. I’m not very curvy, but the curves I have, I had already at thirteen. I was tall and looked older.”

  “And the second part?”

  “It took me a while to understand why the other girls were so into boys and swooned over celebrities like boy bands and so on.”

  “So when did the penny drop for you?” Blythe seemed more than mildly interested. Was she actually holding her breath?

  “Late. I was seventeen before I realized why boys didn’t have a particular appeal for me.” Her heart now pounding for a completely different reason, she waited for Blythe to catch on. This would definitely make her view their dancing together in a whole new light.

  “Really.” Blythe’s voice was a whisper. “I was eighteen.”

  Was Blythe talking about the same thing she was? Her palms were so sweaty now she nearly dropped the phone, but she had to make sure. “No high-school sweethearts before then?”

  “Don’t get me started on high school. So, no. No sweethearts. Just the opposite.”

  Confused now, Evie knew they were getting away from what she wanted to know. “And later?”

  “At eighteen I fell in love for the first time. She didn’t reciprocate, but for the first time I felt like I had it in me to love someone. Naturally I was crushed to learn she didn’t feel the same.”

  She! Evie clasped the phone with both hands. She had thought, hoped, after the dancing, the kiss, and holding hands, but that wasn’t the same as hearing it like this. “I’m sorry about that. I had a girlfriend when I was eighteen. Mal caught us at one point, and, well, you’ve met him. You can imagine what he was like. I wasn’t strong enough to defy him, even if I’d wanted to. My girlfriend reacted badly, since he totally freaked her out. Can’t say I blame her.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, when I say Mal caught us, I meant, caught us, caught us.”

  “Ah. As in making out.”

  “Yeah.” Evie cringed at the memory even though it had been twelve years ago. The panicky feeling of scrambling for clothes while her father was tapping his foot outside the barely closed door was so damn humiliating. “How did your folks react?”

  “To what?” Blythe sounded puzzled again.

  “Coming out?”

  “Oh. You mean that. They don’t know.”

  “You—you’re still in the closet?” That didn’t seem right. Blythe was perhaps shy and uncomfortable at times, but she was also matter-of-fact and direct.

  “No. Not in the closet. Just not in touch with my family. I left home when I was barely eighteen. Haven’t been back since.”

  “Oh. I see.” She really didn’t see, but something tickled her memory, something Blythe had said a while back. “Didn’t you say you were from South Carolina and knew the area around Pawleys Island?”

  “Yes.” Blythe sighed. “I lived most of my childhood in Myrtle Beach. As far as I know, my family’s still there.”

  “And you haven’t been home, I mean visited, there?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t mean to pry. Really. Just tell me to shut up if I make you feel unsettled. I just figure…well, we’ll be there this week, right there in your old neighborhood. Will this be a problem for you? Your work may suffer, and I’d hate that. We’re depending on each other to succeed.”

  “I promise I’ll hold it together.” Blythe now sounded decidedly cooler. “You don’t have a thing to worry about.”

  “I just feel it might be a mistake to stay at Pawleys Island, if that’s going to bring back bad memories for you.”

  “If you’re that concerned about the finished product, I can certainly stay at a hotel instead of your house. I wouldn’t want to impose.” Blythe sounded stiff now. Evie could picture the light blue eyes being icier than ever before. This wasn’t how she’d meant for Blythe to take her words, not at all.

  “I’m not worried about any product. I just don’t want anybody to get hurt.”

  “You realize I’ve been to almost every hellhole known to man? Returning to South Carolina will hardly be a bleep on the radar.”

  “Something far more personal hurt you there.”

  “You want out of the contract?”

  “Please, Blythe. Don’t be like that.” Her heart thundering again, she hated the way their conversation was going. “Fuck. I knew it was a mistake to wake you up. I shouldn’t have.” The connection she’d felt only moments ago was gone because she was so damn weak and couldn’t keep herself together.

  “Evie.” Blythe sounded tired, but marginally less rigid. “Listen. You were right to call me. You may actually have a point about my being closer to my family adding pressure. However, I won’t let it affect our work. We’ll both succeed. Just wait and see.”

  Grateful for Blythe’s attempt to regain the warmth between them, she nodded to herself. Perhaps she was being too sensitive, or even childish. No matter what, she wished she could say something to rekindle the warmth their sharing had created. She didn’t want Blythe to feel bad, so she produced the best casual tone she could.

  “Sure we will. Absolutely. You know what? I think I can get back to bed now. Get a few more hours in. Okay?”

  “Evie?” There it was again, Blythe’s concerned tone. Evie felt even worse.

  “Hope you can sleep some more too. See you Tuesday.”

  Evie wasn’t ready to spend time on the road to Pawleys Island with Blythe, but perhaps she’d get her act together by then. “Fine. See you Tuesday morning. Bye.”

  She disconnected the phone and pressed it against her forehead. Well, that was one way to get rid of a nightmare. You call the woman you have a business arrangement with, harass her at an ungodly hour, more or less force her to out herself, and then get all weepy and emotional because she has the audacity to not respond the way you want. Really mature.

  Evie wasn’t sure why she was weepy and emotional around Blythe. When had she handed over that type of power to her? She left the towel on the chair and crawled naked back into bed. Even after tugging the covers over her, she was cold to the bone. Her father had once lectured her at length after she lost a race at age sixteen, saying she was her own worst enemy. She hadn’t understood or agreed with him then, and she’d be damned if she’d start agreeing with him now.

  *

  Blythe put her cell phone down and wrapped her arms around her pulled-up knees. What the hell had just happened?

  She and Evie had connected, and Blythe had curled up in bed, feeling like they’d actually been in the same room, exchanging secrets. Her being a lesbian was hardly a secret, but she didn’t announce it either. If she had been involved with someone, she could imagine being totally out, despite her being somewhat well-known. She could also see why Evie wasn’t out to the general public, since she was famous in a whole other way. As one of the very few women in racing, anything Evie did attracted attention. If it became common knowledge she was a lesbian, she would have to contend with everything from leering s
traight guys, to Bible Belt reactionaries, to people wanting her to become a spokesperson, to…just about anything.

  Moved by how Evie had dared to reach out to her when she needed someone to listen, Blythe squeezed her legs tight. When had it gone so wrong? Their conversation had been amicable, nice. Warm. Even coming out to Evie had been okay, since both of them had dealt with weird experiences. Evie’s was even worse than her own. After loving Pearl for several years, Blythe was still friends with the woman who once broke her heart. She was also friends with Pearl’s husband of twenty-three years and unofficial godmother to their two children. She sighed. Without Pearl and her family, she wouldn’t have much of a social circle.

  She returned to the point in the conversation with Evie when they crashed and burned. Myrtle Beach and Pawleys Island. Evie had sensed that returning to the place where she’d been the ultimate outsider, and a constant disappointment to her parents, would be a problem.

  “And I got all defensive and huffy, didn’t I?” She groaned into her knees, pressing her forehead so hard against them that it hurt. Evie had called because she needed someone, and Blythe, being her usual idiotic self, couldn’t step far enough away from her frail ego to show she could be trusted. If they had any problem finishing the book, Blythe would have nobody but herself to blame.

  Something else hit her and made her sit ramrod straight. She couldn’t possibly have any long-term impact on Evie. But what if this lack of trust had short-term effects on her? If it made her not pay attention while training…that could be fatal.

  Not even stopping to think, she pressed the speed-dial number for Evie. Surely she wasn’t back asleep already?

  “Blythe?” Evie’s voice, raw and sort of atonal, sounded anything but sleepy.

  “I’m sorry. Whatever just happened? I’m sorry.” She realized she sounded really uncomfortable, but what else was new?

  “What?” Her voice came alive again, thank God.

  “We’ll talk more tomorrow. I just want to say I’m sorry I snapped at you when you were just starting to feel better. I’m not good at this but, with you, I…I want to be.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I’m so glad you called back.” Evie sniffed, which made Blythe want to smack herself over the head with the cell phone. “Thank you.”

  “We’re good?” She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Yes. Yes, of course we are. You know, I think we both stumbled onto one of those things I refer to as Pandora’s Boxes that we all have. The way I see it, we carry these boxes with us, filled with old hurt, misunderstandings, bad events, and so on. We manage to keep a tight lid on them most of the time. Then I’m thinking, maybe they’re inevitable, these boxes? And since they might be, perhaps we should have those Tupperware boxes instead to keep such things in. You know, the type you squeeze the lid and let air out of every now and then. To keep the pressure off?”

  Blythe felt her mouth fall open. “Evie. How did I ever go through life without having you to explain things to me? Nothing anybody else has ever said has made more sense than that. I’m not joking.”

  “Yeah? I thought it sounded a bit weird when I said it out loud.” Evie chuckled. “Now I really feel like we’re back on track.”

  Blythe was so relieved she wanted to cry. “Me too. Let’s get some more sleep.”

  “Yes. See you Tuesday.”

  “Good night. Um. Morning.” She disconnected the call and relaxed back into bed, then tucked the cell phone under her pillow with her hand still around it. She felt closer to Evie like this.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Pawleys Island beach house was nothing like Blythe expected. She had envisioned some modern structure with panoramic windows overlooking the ocean, but this was the direct opposite. Built on tall stilts to accommodate potential flooding during storms, pale blue exterior with white trim and shutters, it looked like all the other houses. No extensive luxury set it apart whatsoever.

  “Come on, let me show you.” Evie bounced out of the car and waved impatiently for Blythe to follow her. She opened the door with a code lock and they bounded up the stairs to the first floor.

  “Oh, look at that view!” Blythe gazed out the living room window. “I think I said the exact same thing at your place in Plymouth.”

  “Well, it’s the same ocean, so that figures.” Evie crinkled her nose as she smiled. “Let me show you your room.” She tugged at Blythe’s arm. “It’s the prettiest room in the house. I put up the wallpaper and painted it myself.”

  “Really?” Impressed, Blythe stepped into the small guest room located down the small corridor off the far end of the living room. Light green and yellow pastels gave the room a serene, spring feeling. White, airy curtains reached all the way to the floor. A French door led to the balcony, which was really a large deck built on the stilts. “I love it.”

  “You’ll have only a twin bed, since the rooms are small. Is that okay?”

  “Remember who you’re talking to.” Blythe chuckled and gestured at herself.

  “Oh, right. You’ll be fine. Now, my next pride and joy.” She took Blythe’s hand and guided her across the narrow hallway and into a room perhaps thirty percent larger than the guest room. “My bedroom.” It sported a queen-size bed, and the colors were deeper, more saturated. Maroon, navy, and gold told an entirely different story of this room and its occupant.

  “This is gorgeous. Did you do this room too?” Blythe noticed that it had a partial view of the sea.

  “Yeah, it was fun. I bought this place with some of the first money I made, and everybody told me to remodel and extend it. I didn’t want that. I just wanted this house for me. If I wanted a visitor, like I do you, then I have one guest room. This way I can be here alone, and nobody expects or can possibly be offended that I don’t ask them to join me.” Evie tangled her fingers into the hem of her white T-shirt. “I know that probably sounds pretty conceited.”

  “No. It sounds honest. And it clearly comes from a woman smart enough to draw the line in the sand very clearly. This is your home, with the emphasis on yours. I’m very glad that I get to stay here with you. It’ll make my work infinitely easier.” She glanced out the window. “And as long as you don’t expect me to brave the waves out there, I’m really going to like it.”

  “Brave the waves? Wouldn’t dream of it. I mean, I love sailing, waterskiing, swimming, and such, but not everybody is an aquatic life form.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  “Then again, I’d never climb a tree during a hurricane.” Evie looked pointedly at her before she chuckled.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m not so sure we should start comparing notes about our daredevil records.”

  “Better not.” Evie turned around. “Let me show you the kitchen and the library, and then we can carry our stuff inside.”

  Blythe tagged along, admiring the rooms that had clearly been modernized—the L-shaped kitchen with a breakfast nook, and the bathroom that held both a soaking tub and a shower stall.

  “It’s okay to share a bathroom, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. Some women are a bit funny that way. I didn’t think you’d be one of them, considering how you’ve been used to roughing it. Still thought I’d ask.”

  “As you say, compared to last year’s accommodation, which was pretty much a roll of paper and a shovel, this is heavenly.”

  “A shovel?” Evie winced visibly. “Really? That sounds horrible.”

  “Trust me, after a while, that was the easy part. Didn’t even think about it toward the last part of my assignment.”

  “I’d love to hear more about your experiences.” Evie looked serious. “I have several of your books, and I’ve looked at other photos on the Internet that you’ve taken, but even if they tell their own story, I want to hear yours.”

  Tugging at her locks, an old habit, Blythe looked curiously at Evie, who in turn gazed back with completely guileless eyes. She had no idea what it was about Evie’s eyes that allowed h
er to see so much of her—maybe because Evie’s eyes in a strange way reflected some of herself.

  “Okay. I’m glad we’re here in more ways than one,” Evie said as they returned to the car to get their luggage. “I don’t know about you, but that bed at the hotel outside Fredericksburg was horrible. What had they stuffed in the mattress? Bricks?”

  She chuckled. “Actually, I was ready to bet on some leftover junk from a mining enterprise.”

  “Sounds about right. Both the beds here are Tempur-Pedic, so I promise we’ll sleep better.” Something ghosted over her face, a paleness that came and went so quickly Blythe nearly missed it. She didn’t miss why, though. Recurring nightmares.

  “I’m sure we’ll snooze like babies. Just listen to those waves rolling in. That’ll be soothing.” That probably wouldn’t be the case, but Evie looked self-conscious enough as it was.

  “Yeah, I think so too.”

  They carried their bags up, and Blythe found she actually loved the sound of the waves while unpacking. She’d forgotten how the ocean sounded down here. She’d grown up in a similar house, only slighter farther from the beach. Myrtle Beach was a tourist paradise, and her family had moved there from Raleigh when she was three. So many things in her life had sucked, but the sound of the ocean wasn’t one of them.

  Evie poked her head through the doorway. “Want to go out to dinner or go grocery shopping?”

  “How about both? Eat out, then shop for some stuff?” She shoved the empty suitcase under the bed. “That way I can make you breakfast before we head to Darlington tomorrow.”

  “How domestic.” Evie grinned. “You said you’re a horrible cook, remember?”

  “I know. And I am. But—that said—I make some mean blueberry pancakes.” She pushed herself up from the floor. “Just don’t ask me to do something elaborate.”

  “I won’t.”

  “If you do some of the cooking, I’ll wash all the dishes and clean up the kitchen.”