racks on the roof. Rednecks. People in the road made it impossible for the cars to move forward, walking as if they weren’t aware that any of the cars existed. People sauntered past, moving faster than he was. Fat people, still eating. Probably eating all day long and slowing the traffic while Erin got farther and farther away.
His car went forward one length and stopped again. Went forward and stopped. Over and over. He felt like screaming, wanted to pound the wheel, but people were everywhere. If he wasn’t careful someone would say something and Barney Fife would investigate and remember his out-of-state plates and probably arrest him on the spot, simply because he wasn’t a local.
Forward and stopping, over and over, movement measured in inches until he reached the corner. The traffic had to ease up now, he thought, but it didn’t, and up ahead, Erin and the gray-haired man were gone. There was only a long line of cars and trucks ahead of him on a road that led nowhere and everywhere at exactly the same time.
37
A dozen cars were parked in front of the store as Katie trailed the kids up the stairs to the house. Josh and Kristen had whined most of the ride home about how tired their legs were, but Alex ignored it, reminding them periodically that they were getting closer. When that didn’t work, he simply commented that he was getting tired, too, and didn’t want to hear any more about it.
The complaining ended when they got to the store. Alex let them grab Popsicles and Gatorade before they went upstairs, and the burst of cool air as they opened the door was ridiculously refreshing. Alex led Katie to the kitchen and she watched as he drenched his face and neck at the kitchen sink. In the living room, the kids were already sprawled on the couch, the television on.
“Sorry,” he said. “I thought I was about to die about ten minutes ago.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“That’s because I’m tough,” he said, pretending to puff out his chest. He retrieved two glasses from the cupboard and added ice cubes before pouring water from a pitcher he kept in the refrigerator.
“You’re a trouper,” he added, handing her a glass. “It’s like a sauna out there.”
“I can’t believe how many people are still at the carnival,” she said, taking a drink.
“I’ve always wondered why they don’t move up the date to either May or October, but then again, the crowds seem to come no matter what.”
She glanced at the clock on the wall. “What time do you have to leave?”
“In an hour or so. But I should be back before eleven.”
Five hours, she thought. “Do you want me to make the kids anything special for dinner?”
“They like pasta. Kristen likes hers with butter, Josh likes his with marinara, and I’ve got a bottle of that in the refrigerator. They’ve been snacking all day, though, so they might not eat much.”
“What time do they go to bed?”
“Whenever. It’s always before ten, but sometimes it’s as early as eight. You’ll have to use your best judgment.”
She held the cool glass of water against her cheek and glanced around the kitchen. She hadn’t spent much time in their home, and now that she was here she noticed remnants of a woman’s touch. Little things—red stitching on the curtains, china prominently displayed in a cabinet, Bible verses on painted ceramic tiles near the stove. The house was filled with evidence of his life with another woman, but to her surprise, it didn’t bother her.
“I’m going to go hop into the shower,” Alex said. “Will you be okay for a few minutes?”
“Of course,” she said. “I can snoop around your kitchen and think about dinner.”
“The pasta’s in the cupboard over there,” he said, pointing. “But listen, when I get out, if you want me to drive you over to your place so you can shower and change, I’d be glad to do it. Or you can shower here. Whatever you want.”
She struck a sultry pose. “Is that an invitation?”
His eyes widened and then flashed to the kids.
“I was kidding.” She laughed. “I’ll shower after you’re gone.”
“Do you want to pick up a change of clothes first? If not, you can borrow sweats and a T-shirt… the sweats will be too big for you, but you can adjust the drawstring.”
Somehow the idea of wearing his clothes sounded extremely sexy to her. “That’s fine,” she assured him. “I’m not picky. I’m just watching