The Driver

(Click here to read Part 1 of the Driver)

“You need to remember Vincent Hutchins that I am not the one who left,” Lily said.

She flew from the car.

Jumping after her, he reached the front door of her building just as she pulled it open. He pushed the door closed then, using his weight, he held the door closed.

“Please. Don’t go,” he said.

Her pale blue eyes raked his face. Letting out a breath, she shut her eyes to him. When her eyes popped open, they were blazing with fury and pain.

“Whatever you think of me, I am not a whore,” she said. “I will not be treated as if I’m a common prostitute.”

He fell back as if he had been slapped. His movement freed the door and Lily pulled it open. Vince pushed the door closed.

Their eyes held.

“My daughter is waiting for me,” she said. “Please let go.”

“Your daughter?”

“She’s twelve now,” Lily said. “She’s asleep but she likes me to close her door when I get home.”

“You kept her?”

Letting go of the door handle, Lily squared her shoulders. Her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes squinted.

“You’d like to have this conversation? Here? On the street? In the middle of the night?” She sniffed. A single shaped eyebrow raised. “I’m not the one who is common.”

He took her elbow and led her to the front seat of the limousine. Without saying a word, he drove to the only place he could think of – the gazebo on the lake at City Park. They walked in silence to the edge of the lake.

“I love this lake,” she said. “We spent a lot of nights right here.”

“Cuddling under the moon and stars, yes.”

As if beaconed by his words, the moon appeared from behind the clouds. Unable to look into her face, he leaned against the metal railing and stared moon’s reflection on the dark water. In battle, he was strong and courageous. But in this moment, he would rather drown in the lake then face the pain in her face again.

“I saw your picture in the society pages of the New York Times when I was in Walter Reed.”

“Are you all right?” She asked.

“Yes. Let me get through this. Please,” he said glancing at her face. “I’ve been trying to say this to you for six months.”

She nodded.

“I was waiting for a physical therapy appointment when I caught a glimpse of your face in a discarded paper under one of the chairs. I asked an orderly to pick it up for me. Even with the surgery, I knew it was you.”

“Surgery?” She asked.

“New nose, chin, breasts,” he said.

She laughed.

“I’ve never had surgery. I just grew up.”

He pulled a tattered newspaper photo from his wallet. His thumb ran over the images on the soft news print.

“That was a fun night,” she said peering at the photo.

“I stayed at my mom’s house for a week then I moved in with some friends. They helped me find the man you’re standing next to in the photo. That’s how I got this job.”

Vince looked out across the lake as a group of Canada Geese floated by. Turning his head, he gazed at Lily. Her eyes shifted from the lake to catch his look. She leaned into him and he slipped his hand around her waist.

“Are you disappointed?” She asked.

“I get the jitters when you are around.”

She smiled as if the information delighted her.

“Do you do this to support…”

“Our daughter?” She asked. “No. I told you, I like the company of men. And I’m good at it. I’m popular enough, and wealthy enough, that I can pick and choose what I want to do.”

“What about love? Marriage? Children?” He asked. “It’s what you wanted.”

“I was burned at love,” she said. “No, I’m not interested in love.”

“Just money,” he said.

“I’d make more money if I didn’t spend every Saturday night with my father.”

“Your father?”

“He’s told you I was his daughter.”

Her soft smile increased as she chided him with her tone.

“I thought he was being polite.”

“He was my mother’s client and he’s my father. I look quite a bit like him.”

“He pays you every week,” Vince said.

“He gives me money,” Lily said. “I have asked him not to but he insists. He says that he’d rather give it to me now when he can see me enjoy it.”

Vince nodded. “Your father knows that I took this job because of you.”

“It figures,” she said. She was silent for a while. “What are we doing?”

Turning away from the lake, he faced her.

“I’ve never gotten over you,” he said.

“That’s nice,” she said. “You disappear leaving me to hold the bag and you haven’t gotten over me? You promised to marry me. We’ll do it together, you said. Don’t worry, you said. And whaa la, presto magnifico, he disappears.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “My parents were waiting for me when I got home. They took me straight to the airport.”

“And you couldn’t write? Call? Fuck, telegraph?”

“I wasn’t allowed any outside contact for thirty days,” he said. “My mother told me that you ….”

“What did your mother say?” Her eyes became slits of burning rage.

“She said that you were pregnant with Bobby Harris’ baby and that I should have known that you were fucking him.”

“And you didn’t correct her?”

“I was terrified that it was true,” he said. “I was fifteen years old. I had no idea your mom was a… an escort. My mom said you were just like your mother.”

“I see your mother and father at mass every week,” she said. “They make no effort to interact with me or my child.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I blew it. I had everything I ever wanted and lost it all. When I was wounded….”

He fell silent.

Her ache to solve this riddle, to know once and for all, got the best of her. She turned to look at him. With her eyes, she encouraged him to speak.

“When I was wounded, the moment the bomb went off, I saw your face,” he said. “Your name was the first thing I said after I woke from the coma. My wife heard me say your name and walked out of the hospital. She filed for divorce the next day. Your face, and those amazing eyes, haunted me day and night. When I saw the photo, I figured that it must be a sign.”

She stepped forward and kissed him. Slipping his hands under her coat, he pulled her body to him. He wanted her, all of her, right there. When she shifted away from him, he felt an almost unbearable yearning.

“What was that?”

“I wanted to know if you still tasted good,” she said. “And you do.”

“I’d like to meet my daughter,” he said.

“She’s amazing. She’s so beautiful, funny, smart. She has this look…” She looked up at him. “Yeah, just like that. She makes me laugh every time.”

“Does she ask about me?” He asked.

“She knows who you are,” she said. “Amelia has been waiting for you to come back to… Denver.”

“Amelia,” he said.

“Amelia Lily Hutchins,” she said.

“Lily?”

“It’s my middle name and my father’s mother’s name.”

He nodded. “You knew who I was when I took this job.”

“Papa told me he hired you,” she said.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“What should I say? ‘Hi asshole. I know you abandoned me and our daughter but it’s great to see you.’ You expect too much from me.”

He crushed her mouth with his mouth. His lips pulled at hers as he feasted on her moist tongue. When she moved to break away from him, he held her in place. She sighed into him. Their heat rose like waves on the lake below.

She pushed against his chest and he let her go.

“Slow down,” she said. “I can’t move this fast.”

“Isn’t this what you do?”

She shook him from her. Stalking toward the parking lot, she opened her cell phone.

“Hi Sam,” she said. “Can you come get me? I’m at the City Park Gazebo. Oh, great. Thanks.”

“If you go, I’ll just follow you.” He jogged to keep up with her angry walk. “I want you back in my life. I need you back in my life.”

She looked at him and pulled the pin that held her hair. With a shake of her head, her blonde hair fell in curls past her shoulders.

“Who do you think you are?” She pointed her finger like a dagger at his heart. “By your choice, you aren’t a part of my life. You have no right to say anything about me or my life.”

A yellow cab screeched around the corner and come to a halt in the parking lot. An ancient cab driver hopped out of the cab carrying a baseball bat.

“I’m all right, Sam. This man is nothing.”

Sam opened the passenger door to the cab. Lily stepped in.

In a moment, she was gone.

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The Driver is a serial fiction. The story will continue next Friday at Miss-Britt.com.

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claudia hall christian is a novelist living in Denver, Colorado. For more stories, visit: storiesbyclaudia.com or visit her weblog at: On a Limb with Claudia

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