Lost Souls (Cainsville 3.6)

PROLOGUE

When Robert first saw the young woman, he thought she was a ghost. It was an old story--a woman in white hitchhiking on a lonely road. When someone picks her up, they're directed to a spot near a cemetery, where she promptly disappears.

As he slowed, though, he could see she was very much a creature of flesh and blood. A figure from a very different oft-told story, the sort found in pop songs, a pretty young thing standing in the rain while his car was warm and dry inside.

The girl stood on the gravel shoulder, her thumb out, a magazine over her head to stave off the June rain. The soaked paper sagged, water running down her white sundress, like the Sunday school version of a wet-shirt contest, and he felt a twitch of lust. He also felt his foot press the brake.

When the car stopped, she ran over and opened the door. "Oh, thank you. Thank you!"

She climbed in before he was even fully aware that he'd offered a ride to a stranger on a dark and empty country road. He didn't tell her he'd made a mistake, though. He was too busy noticing the lack of a bra under that wet sundress.

He deserved this. He really deserved this. Sure, he felt a rush of guilt, thinking of Sharon at home making him a late dinner, but it wasn't as if he hoped to run off with a girl he picked up on the roadside. No, he was just going to enjoy the scenery. Nothing wrong with that.

"You okay, mister?" she asked.

Mister? Well, that made him feel old. But he was probably twice her age, which he'd peg at about twenty-two. Old enough that he didn't feel like a total perv for ogling her.

He unstuck his eyes from the gaze-magnets under that dress and looked upward. She was a very pretty girl. Like something out of an ad for spring water, sweet and blond and innocent. The kind of girl who, fifty years ago, would have put flowers in her hair and joined a commune and preached free love, having sex with any guy who caught her eye and maybe a few girls too, and--

Down, boy.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm staying with a friend who lives out here. This guy in the city promised me a ride and then flaked out. I caught a cab, but my money ran out..." She gestured at the roadside with a wry smile. "Right about here. It's only five more miles, and I thought I could walk it, but then the rain started. I stuck out my thumb and hoped I'd get lucky." Her smile broadened. "Which I did."

No, Robert was certain he was the one who'd gotten lucky.

"Just tell me when I need to turn off," he said.

"It's about three more miles. You can just drop me at the intersection."

"Two miles from your friend's place?"

She smiled, a sweet and serene smile. "She lives off the beaten path, as they say, and I don't want you going out of your way. Or taking this nice car down those rough roads. The rain is already letting up. Dropping me at the corner will be fine."

"Two miles is a long walk and a short drive. The car will be fine. It has all-wheel drive."

"If you insist..."

"I do."

"Thank you."

Another smile. She went quiet after that, looking out the window. Robert tried to keep his eyes on the road. But, damn, even if all he got at the end of this trip was another sweet thank you, the scenery alone was worth the detour. The phrase "ethereal beauty" kept springing to mind, and he wasn't sure why until he recalled using it in a poem he wrote for Sharon in college.

He'd had no idea what the term meant at the time--he'd been a lovesick boy trying to impress a girl--but the young woman beside him summed up the phrase perfectly. There was a glow about her, with her pale skin and blond hair and white sundress. He imagined what it'd be like to brush the hair from her shoulder, push down that strap, watch the dress slide--

His phone rang through the Bluetooth. As Sharon's name flashed on the screen, the girl looked over.

"Looks like your wife's calling," she said. "Is she expecting you?"

"Wife? No. It's just a coworker."

He hit Ignore. Then he put his left hand down at his side and wriggled off his wedding band. It plunked into the door storage slot. Not that he planned anything untoward. It was just awkward, ogling her while he wore his wedding band. That did make him feel like a perv.

The Bluetooth clicked, and Sharon's voice came on. "Hey, babe--"

He scrambled to stop the message but hit all the wrong buttons as Sharon continued, "Shitty weather out there. Be careful on the back roads. I'll have a drink waiting--"

He disconnected the phone.

"Coworker?" the girl said.

"We...have a thing."

"Ah." Then, "She sounds nice."

She was. More than nice. Robert knew how lucky he was, still happy after almost twenty years of marriage. But happy didn't mean satisfied. Okay, sure, they didn't really have any problems in that area, either. It was just...well, twenty years with one woman was a long time.

He'd never leave Sharon. Not for anyone. But if this girl wanted to give him a little something in payment for the ride, well, he deserved that, didn't he? Cosmic recognition of the fact he worked his ass off, that he was a good husband, a good father...

And your wife?

He gave a start and looked over. The words seemed to come from the girl, but she was staring out the window. That inner voice continued.

And what about Sharon? Hasn't she been all that, too--good worker, wife, mother? What if she picked up some hot young thing by the roadside and--

He shook off the thought. He was just enjoying the scenery. That was all. And if this girl wanted to find a way to thank him--not sex per se, but a little something--then he deserved that for picking her up, giving her a lift, being a gentleman about it.

Gentleman?

Okay, that wasn't the word, but he was acting more respectful than most guys would. He hadn't hit on her, and he wouldn't try to claim any kind of payment, not even a quick feel as he helped her out of the car.

That alone deserves a reward.

Did he detect a note of sarcasm?

"Turn up here," the girl said. "The next right."