Forever Friday (13 page)

Gabe grinned. “All cowboys cry, the real ones anyway. Bayou captains too.” He paused for a moment, as if contemplating the silence. “Know why I love you?”

“You do?”

He smiled. “Want to know why?”

She nodded.

“Because you said ‘first’ time we’d bare our souls into the wee hours. That means many more wonderful nights together.”

“How can you be so sure?”

With both his arms, Gabe drew Huck in, pressing his lips against
hers with confident strength. “Marry me, Huck.” He reached into his shirt pocket and produced a simple gold band. “This ring was my mother’s. She advised me to carry it always, so I could give it to the girl of my dreams.”

“Oh, dearest Gabe.”

He slid the ring on Huck’s finger and they kissed deeply. This time, the tears belonged to Huck.

They remained in the swing awhile longer, holding each other until the hesitancy of new love evolved into deep, contented kisses. Then after a final visit to the privy, they located their shoes and stockings, retraced their steps along the beach, and climbed up the seawall to the boulevard. Gabe hailed a passing party trolley still loaded with drunken Splash Day revelers, the intoxicated driver singing about love, thrilled to deliver a pair of starry-eyed lovers to the interurban station. Then at two a.m., Huck and Gabe boarded the last scheduled coach and sped back to the mainland.

“Do we really look like starry-eyed lovers?” Huck clung to Gabe’s arm, her head comfortably upon his shoulder.

“According to the singing trolley driver. I guess that makes you my dazed darling,” Gabe replied, his answer trailing into a yawn.

“Me too,” Huck agreed, then followed suit. “I mean, ‘me too’ about your yawn. But you’re also
my
dazed darling.” She laughed softly, thinking how she’d awakened early that May Day morning with wild imaginings, never dreaming that almost twenty-four hours later, she’d be engaged to another man. A man who was undoubtedly her soul mate.

“Aren’t we a pair?” Gabe’s eyes rolled above a smile. “Staying out most of the night on our first date. Your father would have me executed.”

“He’d never get the chance. Remember, Mother would torture you to death first.”

Their lighthearted banter continued in spurts, with Gabe stealing a kiss every few miles in the dimly lit rail car. Huck knew they could have become much more
involved
. They were destined to be lovers, and lovers longed to be as intimate as humanly possible. But before the heat of her desire burned out of control, Gabe backed off.

Once, when she and Clark were in college, he wanted more physical passion than she was willing to give. So he forced his touch, until she finally convinced him to stop. The next day he was standoffish and pious, blaming her for enticing him during a weakened state. She refused to see him after that for weeks, until he showed up one day with a silver bracelet. As with the hair-cutting incident and countless others, the man thought expensive gifts righted any wrong. Huck sighed, finally admitting to herself that her problems with Clark weren’t entirely his fault. She’d accepted the gifts every single time.

“The Houston station’s up ahead,” Gabe said, gently interrupting Huck’s thoughts. He checked his pocket watch. “It’s almost three. We’ll have to hire a jitney bus since streetcars don’t run past midnight.”

“I thought jitneys were outlawed two years ago.”

“If they don’t take business away from streetcars, the law looks the other way. Most of the drivers are former doughboys and friends of the cops anyway.” He laughed. “Thought about going into the jitney business myself. After the war, several of my army buddies transformed their old jalopies to carry passengers.”

“I’d ride with you,” Huck said, noticing how handsome Gabe looked in the middle of the night.

At the station, they shuffled off the interurban to a waiting jitney
bus. Even though it had room for eight, Huck and Gabe were the only passengers. Huck shouted her address over the engine’s rattle while Gabe paid the driver.

“I live only a few blocks from your boardinghouse,” Gabe said as they sputtered noisily along. “So I’ll just walk home from there. I think this heap’s on its last leg.”

“Don’t you mean ‘last wheel’?” Huck laughed. “My older brother Andrew used to sing a popular song about a jitney.” The cool night air was invigorating, awakening her weary senses. “Something about a jitney driver named Gasoline Gus who steals Satan’s wife.”

“Pardon my speech, but she must have been one
hell
of a woman.” Gabe’s face possessed the same lively intensity as the stars that sparkled low overhead. “I remember the tune but not the words. Why don’t you sing it?”

“Here?”

“Bet you’re better than the drunken trolley driver.”

“Okay,” Huck agreed. “At least I’m sober, but I only know the chorus.”

Gabe chuckled. “What a proper way to end the day … with a song.”

By the time they reached Mrs. Thompson’s boardinghouse, they were laughing hysterically, making up comical verses, then shushing each other, with Gabe singing harmony to Huck’s melody.

“Good thing no one’s home.” Gabe stepped off the jitney, then offered Huck his hand. “I hope we didn’t wake the neighbors.”

“They’re all elderly and couldn’t hear a locomotive steam through their yard.” Huck hopped down and released Gabe’s hand as the jitney motored away. She spun in a circle. “Dance me to the door,” she said merrily, “to the tune of Gasoline Gus.”

So with more laughter than song, they swayed across a dance floor of dew-covered grass, then scuttled up hollow wooden steps onto the front porch of the boardinghouse.

“It has been an enchanting day,” Huck said, placing her arms around Gabe’s neck, the warmth of his sea-sky gaze blazing through the predawn shadows.

“Our days have only started, my darling.” He bent to kiss her, when the porch swing creaked in the darkness.

“Who’s he?” demanded a surly voice.

Huck shuddered.

The voice in the darkness belonged to Clark Richards.

May 1926

Houston, Texas

In less than an instant, Huck felt the vise of Clark’s athletic grip, his rough thumb and fingers twisting her forearm, jerking her out of Gabe’s protective embrace.

“I said, who’s he?” Clark repeated, then cursed. Bright moonlight reflected the shiny six-inch blade of the hunting knife he clenched in his right hand. “Answer me, Huck. Who’s the laughing moron?”

“Clark! No!” Huck struggled to break free. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand plenty.” Clark’s eyes bulged, revealing dark windows of jealous rage. He raised the knife.

“I’m Gabe Alexander,” Gabe said coolly, edging distance between himself and Clark’s weapon. “Let her go. Your argument is with me.”

“Shut up!” Clark spun Huck around, encircling her with his left arm like an iron band.

“Clark, please.” Huck’s voice trembled, as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. She knew Clark was possessive and impatient but never in her wildest imagination had she thought he’d pull a crazy stunt like this. “Are you insane?”

“Insane?” Clark forced a laugh. “I ended a hunting trip early to surprise my fiancée. Rushed straight here to inform her of my promotion to a large bank in Chicago.” His ranting grew louder. “Insane? I’ve waited for hours, sharpening my knife to pass the time. I’m glad my effort wasn’t wasted.”

Huck felt his grip tighten even more. “If you’ll just let me explain.”

“You don’t deserve the privilege,” Clark sneered.

Gabe spoke softly. “There’s just been a simple misunderstanding, that’s all.”

“Simple? My fiancée’s apparently been cavorting all night with another man, shouting senseless songs from the back of a low-class jitney, and dancing like a drunken fool.”

“Just let her go before someone gets hurt.”

“I’ll decide who gets hurt!” Clark released Huck and lunged toward Gabe, the knife slicing through layers of moonlight and shadows.

Gabe ducked, the steel blade missing him. He motioned for Huck to stay clear, focusing on Clark and remembering that it had been seven years since he’d fought in the gas-filled trenches. Seven years since he’d last experienced the exhilarating, heart-pumping horror of kill or be
killed. He’d learned the technique well, saving his own life more than once. “Drop the knife,” Gabe said, his tone firm but calm. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

“You’re the fool, Alexander.” Clark faced Gabe in street-fighting fashion as both men began moving in a circle.

“Stop it, Clark.” Huck’s voice escalated into tearful hysteria. “You’ve gone mad.”

“It’s okay,” Gabe said, keeping both eyes glued to Clark while trying to comfort Huck. “Trust me. Everything will be all right.” Even though he’d been up almost twenty-four hours, his newly awakened warrior senses were keen, evaluating every possible defensive measure. Clark was physically strong but obviously lacked the skill of hand-to-hand combat. If they tangled again, Gabe would end it. There would be no contest. “Just drop the knife and we’ll talk.”

“Talk is for cowards. No man touches my fiancée.” Clark lunged a second time, slashing at Gabe’s face with all his strength. Gabe dodged sideways into a low spin, then quick-punched underneath his attacker’s rib cage. Gasping for air, Clark doubled over, dropping the knife. In a final swift movement, Gabe kicked the knife off the boardinghouse porch while twisting Clark’s arm, forcing him facedown onto the wooden decking.

“I’m not … your fiancée … Clark,” Huck managed between sobs. “Not now … not ever.”

Clark’s muscled rampage deflated then into limp silence, followed by a series of low whimpers. Gabe released his hold and backed a few steps away. Keeping his eyes on Clark, Gabe removed his suit coat, then laid it over the porch swing. He swallowed hard, having witnessed this very same behavior on the battlefield when a defeated enemy thought
his life was over. In a strange way, he felt sorry for Clark. Losing Huck would be difficult for any man to bear, if not impossible.

Clark sat up and scowled, rubbing his arm. “I love you, Huck,” he whispered, his voice quivering. “Adored you since we were children. Remember?” He glanced at Gabe, then leaned back against the leg of a glass-topped table.

Huck sniffed and wiped her eyes. She wanted to leap across the porch into the safety of Gabe’s arms, but knew she must come to terms with Clark herself. “You may have adored me, Clark, but …” She paused, allowing her voice to grow stronger. “But you’ve never
loved
me. And now you only wish to control me. I’ve tried to be frank, but you’ve refused to listen.”

“That’s not true. I’ve always loved you … and …” Using the table as support, Clark stood. “And I know you still love me.” He glanced at Gabe again. “He’s made you confused, hasn’t he? Come with me to Chicago and everything will be clear. My new car is parked in the next block. I’ll buy you one just like it the day we marry.”

“No!” Huck stepped toward Clark, unwilling to carry the charade any further. The salty burn of tears flowed again, but she didn’t care. “I am getting married, but not to you.” She held up her left hand, the gleaming gold band all too visible. “I’ve given my heart to Gabe.”

“Never!” Clark shouted. “I won’t allow it.” In a renewed fit of rage, he slung the table in Huck’s direction, smashing the glass. Before she could scream, Huck saw Gabe vault through midair, his lightning quick tackle forcing her legs out from under her. They landed with a
thud
, rolling clear of a thousand razor shards, the impact forcing all breath from Huck’s lungs. She gasped for air, then glimpsed the punishing blur of Clark’s hunting boot as he kicked Gabe in the head.
Stunned, Gabe tried to stand as Clark delivered another powerful blow, its force almost knocking Gabe off the porch. Gabe moaned, then lay motionless.

Huck screamed. Clark towered above her. Just as in the hair-cutting incident, his eyes were glazed with darkness. But unlike the simple meat knife Huck had used to prove a point, what Clark now clutched was a long dagger-shaped shard, the finality of its horrible truth aimed directly at her heart.

Huck opened her mouth, producing nothing but a terrified silence. Then she heard a severe cry—unlike any human wail she’d ever experienced—pierce the night. The sound was terrifying and completely foreign, yet at the same time caring and familiar. And desperately soulful.

The next thing she knew, Gabe was lying across her, his body protecting hers. Somehow, he’d rallied enough strength to cry out, leaping between Huck and danger, forsaking his own life to protect her from the madman’s fury. There was a smaller smash of breaking glass, followed by Clark’s panicked rush of footsteps, a car door’s distant slam, a sudden squeal of tires. Why he’d dropped his weapon and run, Huck didn’t know.

Gabe let out a guttural groan and rolled over onto the floor. “He’s gone,” he said softly. “Are you all right?”