more substantial blanket pulled over my head.
Kevin stared resolutely through the windshield, determined not to let his eyes drift to the rearview mirror. “Would you like to stop for something to eat, my honeybuns, or stretch your legs in a rest stop?”
“No.”
It wasn’t so much her terseness as her tone that caused him to clutch the steering wheel more tightly and gulp several times. He considered offering to pull over and fetch her a soda from the cooler in the trunk, then decided he’d better just keep quiet as a little ol’ mouse and let her say if and when she wanted anything. His bride wasn’t the shy type, even in her current condition. His job was to keep on driving northward, aimed at their goal, the spanking new roadmap folded and set on the seat where he could reach it.
They were back on pavement again, and this was good. Like a cowhand who’d had to venture into some canyons to round up strayed calves, he’d taken them off the route for a while. But now they were back on track, or at least going in the right direction.
“Lotion,” Dahlia growled from the backseat.
“Yes, my precious,” Kevin said, scrabbling on the seat for the pink bottle. He twisted his arm around and thrust the bottle over the back of his seat. “Calamine lotion for my beloved bride. I sure am sorry about not seeing that poison ivy around the tree. Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”
“I doubt it, especially since you’re pouring out the lotion on the floor of the car. It ain’t the picnic basket that’s covered with oozy red welts that itch worse than crabs in a fiddler’s privates.”
She groaned, although the noise hinted as much of simmering rage as it did of discomfort, and it occurred to Kevin that he was kinda glad she was lying in the backseat, her legs spread apart and her feet poked out the window.
He jerked his arm back, splattering the dashboard and windshield with pink spots. “I’ll stop at the next store,” he said as he hunkered over the steering wheel on the off chance she could reach him if she tried. “You know, this road’s a lot prettier than a boring old interstate. There’s some real nice flowers in the ditch, and that last house had a plastic duck and little yeller babies in a row. I wish you could have seen them, my adorable bride.”
“You dumped lotion on the potato chips. You’d better be darn glad I ain’t sitting up there beside you, Kevin Fitzgerald Buchanon. Iff’n I was, we’d find out if you’d be any smarter with soggy pink potato chips stuffed up your nose!”
“It’s gonna be just fine,” he said soothingly. “This is our honeymoon, my sweetness, and we’ve got our whole lives in front of us. You and me, a cottage with a vegetable garden out back, maybe the pitter-patter of little feet afore too long.”
“I suppose so, Kevvie.” She didn’t sound nearly as enchanted with his vision as he did, but he blamed it on her unfortunate condition. “Even though it’s all your fault this rash is making me wish I was dead, I still love you,” she added gently. “I never looked twice at Ira on account of his warts. He ain’t half the man you are.”
Kevin accepted the praise with a cocky chuckle, although farther down the road he started wondering if she’d made the observation based on personal research. Twice?
CHAPTER
FOUR
“Are you sure this is the right place?” I asked the cabbie as I studied the scaffolding. “There must be another Chadwick Hotel somewhere. This is closed for remodeling.”
“We’re at the only one I’ve ever heard of, and I’ve been driving for eighteen years. But it makes no difference to me if you want me to cruise around for a while. East side, west side, anywhere you want to go. Suum cuique, as I always say.”
“No, this must be it,” I said without conviction. I paid him and carried my bag into the lobby, where it was cool and dim, if not elegant. The furniture was shabby and arranged rather
Kevin stared resolutely through the windshield, determined not to let his eyes drift to the rearview mirror. “Would you like to stop for something to eat, my honeybuns, or stretch your legs in a rest stop?”
“No.”
It wasn’t so much her terseness as her tone that caused him to clutch the steering wheel more tightly and gulp several times. He considered offering to pull over and fetch her a soda from the cooler in the trunk, then decided he’d better just keep quiet as a little ol’ mouse and let her say if and when she wanted anything. His bride wasn’t the shy type, even in her current condition. His job was to keep on driving northward, aimed at their goal, the spanking new roadmap folded and set on the seat where he could reach it.
They were back on pavement again, and this was good. Like a cowhand who’d had to venture into some canyons to round up strayed calves, he’d taken them off the route for a while. But now they were back on track, or at least going in the right direction.
“Lotion,” Dahlia growled from the backseat.
“Yes, my precious,” Kevin said, scrabbling on the seat for the pink bottle. He twisted his arm around and thrust the bottle over the back of his seat. “Calamine lotion for my beloved bride. I sure am sorry about not seeing that poison ivy around the tree. Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”
“I doubt it, especially since you’re pouring out the lotion on the floor of the car. It ain’t the picnic basket that’s covered with oozy red welts that itch worse than crabs in a fiddler’s privates.”
She groaned, although the noise hinted as much of simmering rage as it did of discomfort, and it occurred to Kevin that he was kinda glad she was lying in the backseat, her legs spread apart and her feet poked out the window.
He jerked his arm back, splattering the dashboard and windshield with pink spots. “I’ll stop at the next store,” he said as he hunkered over the steering wheel on the off chance she could reach him if she tried. “You know, this road’s a lot prettier than a boring old interstate. There’s some real nice flowers in the ditch, and that last house had a plastic duck and little yeller babies in a row. I wish you could have seen them, my adorable bride.”
“You dumped lotion on the potato chips. You’d better be darn glad I ain’t sitting up there beside you, Kevin Fitzgerald Buchanon. Iff’n I was, we’d find out if you’d be any smarter with soggy pink potato chips stuffed up your nose!”
“It’s gonna be just fine,” he said soothingly. “This is our honeymoon, my sweetness, and we’ve got our whole lives in front of us. You and me, a cottage with a vegetable garden out back, maybe the pitter-patter of little feet afore too long.”
“I suppose so, Kevvie.” She didn’t sound nearly as enchanted with his vision as he did, but he blamed it on her unfortunate condition. “Even though it’s all your fault this rash is making me wish I was dead, I still love you,” she added gently. “I never looked twice at Ira on account of his warts. He ain’t half the man you are.”
Kevin accepted the praise with a cocky chuckle, although farther down the road he started wondering if she’d made the observation based on personal research. Twice?
CHAPTER
FOUR
“Are you sure this is the right place?” I asked the cabbie as I studied the scaffolding. “There must be another Chadwick Hotel somewhere. This is closed for remodeling.”
“We’re at the only one I’ve ever heard of, and I’ve been driving for eighteen years. But it makes no difference to me if you want me to cruise around for a while. East side, west side, anywhere you want to go. Suum cuique, as I always say.”
“No, this must be it,” I said without conviction. I paid him and carried my bag into the lobby, where it was cool and dim, if not elegant. The furniture was shabby and arranged rather
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