Hearts in Harmony

Monday morning, she was going to buy a cell phone.

Adrian Braithwaite glanced at his watch and smiled. Despite the abundant potholes, the back road was still faster than the main route. And it was that knowledge that was going to earn him a big, fat, chocolate donut from his friend Paul after the evening service tonight. After he beat Paul home, of course.

An abandoned vehicle at the side of the road loomed up on the horizon. He slowed to stare. It was some car—a variety of different colors, one door blue, the trunk red, while the main body of the car was probably at one time supposed to have been white. The antenna was bent at a ridiculous angle, and the muffler was tied up with wire. The car’s condition made him wonder if someone had bought it out of a junkyard, intending to restore the old beast, although he didn’t think it was exactly a collector’s item.

Adrian checked his watch again as he drove on. He could taste that donut already.

Although he could no longer see the old car, his thoughts returned to its absent owner. Now that he thought about it, the car probably belonged to a teenager, maybe a first car. Given the old car’s condition, however, it was more likely, it belonged to someone down on their luck.

A few miles further, he caught sight of a person up ahead, walking on the shoulder, or rather, he caught sight of a gas can, its bright red visible far in the distance.

Adrian slowed again to study the stranded motorist. A green T-shirt and jeans covered a narrow waist and a nice feminine figure.

He frowned. Familiar stories of women alone being attacked or abducted flashed through his mind. He didn’t want that to happen.

Expecting her to stick out her thumb to hitch a ride when she heard him coming, Adrian slowed even more, until he was parallel to her.

Not only did she not stick out her thumb, she didn’t even look at him. Instead, she remained on the left shoulder, walking determinedly against oncoming traffic—if there had been any other traffic.

She appeared to be a couple of years younger than himself, probably about twenty-five, with chin length brunette hair, and a pert little nose. An understandable scowl tightened pouty lips. To attract her attention, Adrian leaned out the window as he idled along the highway.

He smiled. “Hi,” he called across the empty lane. “Need a lift?”

A shiver of dread passed through Celeste. After walking for over an hour during the hottest part of the summer day, Celeste was tired beyond description, not to mention crabby. Her feet hurt, and her throat was so dry she thought she might soon dissolve into a little pile of dust.

Knowing the man was looking at her, Celeste didn’t turn her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she tried to determine if she’d seen him before.

Without altering her brisk pace, Celeste turned her head slightly so she could see him better.

The man appeared respectable, which alone lessened the likelihood that he was someone she might have met before.

From what she could see, he was well-dressed and clean-shaven. His dark hair sported a stylish cut, even though it was mussed from driving with the window open. He wore what appeared to be prescription glasses with clip-ons for sunglasses. However, his friendly smile and pleasant baritone voice were not enough to make her trust him. She’d encountered smooth talkers before, one in particular, and paid for it dearly. She would never make that mistake again.

Celeste faced forward, not altering her steady pace. “No thanks, I’d rather walk.”

The man kept smiling. “Are you sure? It’s still five miles to the junction and the nearest gas station. Maybe more. I’m obviously going right past it.”

Celeste groaned inwardly. She didn’t want to become another statistic. On the surface, the man seemed okay, but then so did every creep who was later discovered to be a serial rapist or mass murderer.

While inconvenient, the walk itself wouldn’t kill her.

“Thanks for the offer. I’ll walk.”

The man continued to drive beside her.

“Why is there never a cop around when you need one?” she grumbled between her teeth. The empty plastic gas can was useless as a weapon, as was her purse. Slipping her fingers into her pocket, she withdrew her keys slowly and threaded a few between her fingers in case she had to stab him in self defense.

“My name’s Adrian Braithwaite. What’s yours?”

Celeste’s heart pounded in her chest. She clenched her fingers harder around the keys. “Never mind,” she snapped.

He pulled a bit ahead of her so she could see his face without turning her head, then leaned out the window as he continued to drive slowly. He flashed an infuriating smile. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Mind. Or may I call you Never?”

Celeste remained silent.

“Now that we’ve been formally introduced, would you like that ride? I assure you, I’m a responsible citizen, and I go to church faithfully every Sunday. I’m only concerned for your safety.”

Celeste refused to acknowledge him. She’d been taken in before by tempting promises.

At her lack of response, he sat back properly in the car and fumbled with something beside him. One arm appeared out the window, and the car swerved close enough for her to take something out of his hand. “Here,” he called out. “Take this. It’s my cell phone. You can call my mother, she’ll tell you what a nice guy I am. Her name is Mrs. Braithwaite, but you can call her Stella. We’re already too far from your car to bother calling for a tow.”

“No thank you,” she mumbled, and kept walking.

The man shrugged his shoulders and retracted his arm. “I can certainly understand if you’re nervous. If you don’t want to get in the car with me, can I drive beside you until you get to the gas station? I would really hate to read in the paper that something bad happened. I’d never be able to live with myself.”

Celeste nearly stumbled at his words. She’d already developed a blister that had burst, making her deeply regret not taking the time to switch from pantyhose to soft plush socks when she’d changed from her dress to her jeans after church.

“Suit yourself,” she mumbled. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

He checked his watch and sighed. “Not anymore.”

A sudden breeze whipped up, blowing a lock of hair into her face. She spat it out and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand without missing a step.

“Nice weather we’re having,” he called out. “The weather report says it will be hot like this for four more days.”

Celeste closed her eyes for a couple of steps. The heat was getting to her without his reminder. Not a cloud was in sight to offer any relief. The farmers’ fields provided no trees for an occasional patch of shade. She couldn’t decide what was worse to walk on, the uneven gravel of the shoulder, or the steaming hot, broken pavement.

To keep from tripping or walking away from her straight path, Celeste opened her eyes and trudged on. She’d never thought her purse particularly heavy, but after carrying it on her shoulder all this time, it felt as if it weighed a ton. She switched the gas can to her other hand to relieve her numb fingers, at the same time swiping her forearm across her sweaty forehead. She’d never been so thirsty in her life. “Yeah, nice weather,” she grumbled.

“See the game on TV last night? Great, wasn’t it?”

She wanted to turn and give him a dirty look, but she didn’t want him to see her exhaustion.

“If you don’t want to talk, how about if I turn up the music? Although you’d hear it better if you got in the car.”

Celeste opened her mouth, about to reply, but snapped it shut again. She dearly wanted to accept the ride, but stubborn determination and self-preservation won. She valued her life.

She kept walking.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He reached forward and turned up the volume. To Celeste’s shock, one of the songs from her favorite praise album resounded through the open window.

She dearly wanted to trust him. Every step hurt. Her throat was so parched every bit of dust she kicked up while walking burned her dry throat.

For now, at least, the music was making the long walk slightly less intolerable. Despite the harsh dryness in her throat, Celeste found herself humming to her favorite parts, until they finally reached the gas station.

At the same time as Celeste filled her red container, the man topped up his tank. They walked into the building at the same time to pay. He headed straight to the cashier, but Celeste detoured to the cooler for a cold drink, allowing him to be first in line.

She placed the drink on the counter while he counted out his money to the clerk. At her height of five foot five with shoes, he towered above her. He had removed the clip-ons when they got inside, which allowed her to see friendly hazel eyes through his glasses. He remained silent as he paid the clerk. Judging from the paltry amount of money exchanged, he really hadn’t needed any gas.