Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Evangeline, irritated, slowed the car down as the rain slammed harder into the windshield. She could hardly see beyond the slapping wipers into the wet night.
“This is the cherry on top of the crappy cake that has been my day,” she sighed out loud to the empty car, wondering how much longer the trip would take her in this weather. It had been a bad day from the beginning: she’d woken up late, forgotten that her lucky suit for court was at the cleaners and had to wear her second-favorite, been denied a motion for a continuance, dripped salad dressing on the skirt of the second-favorite suit, and accidentally left her cell phone in her office when she headed out for the airport. She’d thought about going back for it, but given the weather, figured she’d need that extra time just to make her flight.
Now, driving straight into the heart of the storm, she wondered how much worse her day could possibly get. She reached for the radio to get a traffic update, then looked back through the windshield, shrieked, and slammed on the brakes.
Seconds later, Evangeline sat in her Mercedes convertible at the side of the highway, both hands on the wheel, trying to catch her breath. It had only been a white plastic shopping bag, but the storm winds had aimed it straight at her head and it had scared the hell out of her. Her car had spun, then fishtailed and straightened, before coming to a stop with a loud thunk. Now it was angled down slightly into the drainage ditch by the side of the highway.
Okay, she thought. Now what?
Being Evangeline, she came up thinking fast. The impact hadn’t been hard enough to make the air bags deploy, so hopefully there wasn’t much damage. She turned the key to the accessory position and pushed the button to turn the hazard lights on. Then she grabbed her umbrella and got out to survey the damage.
Her car was hung up over the edge of the drainage ditch and the right front tire was useless, hanging shredded from its rim.
Be careful what you wish for, Vange. Your day just officially got worse, she thought.
Evangeline ducked through the rain back around the front of the car to the open door, shaking her umbrella out, then dropping it on the floor behind the driver’s seat. Reaching automatically for her purse, she dug inside for her cell phone, then remembered that it was on the sofa in her office.
Shit, she thought. Can’t get more screwed than this.
Evangeline sat back in her seat, her analytical attorney’s mind working overtime. Obviously, she’d miss her flight: that ship was going to sail without her. Now she needed to figure out how to stay safe and dry while she waited for help to come.
*****
Evangeline tensed as a car pulled up behind her, headlights glaring in her rear view mirror. A minute ago, she’d been scared to be alone, stranded in this storm: now that she had company, she felt even more vulnerable. She checked again to make sure her car doors were locked, wishing she had listened to John all those years ago when he’d wanted her to take a self-defense class.
She looked in her rearview mirror to see a tall man getting out of his car. He was carrying a flashlight, sweeping it side-to-side over her car to survey the situation. He walked quickly to the driver’s side window and knocked on the glass.
“Evangeline, open up,” he yelled.
He knows my name? she wondered. It was too dark too see out, and she was afraid to follow his instructions.
“Evangeline, it’s me!” The man put his hand up to the glass of the window, fingers spread, and peered in. “Open up!”
She’d know those eyes anywhere, deep blue, even in the dark. Especially in the dark, she thought. She opened the door and he leaned in, dripping rain all over her.
“Are you OK?” he asked, the worry obvious on his face.
“I’m fine… I’m fine,” she replied, just glad to see the soaking wet face of John McBain.
“Go wait in my car,” he ordered, holding the door open wide for her and offering a hand to pull her up and out.
He watched her get in the passenger side of his car, then pulled her keys from the ignition and walked around the entire car, using the flashlight to check underneath for fuel leaks. Finally, he locked up, ran back to his car and slammed himself inside.
“What happened?” he asked. She told him about the near miss with the garbage bag, sparing her pride not at all, and he chuckled. “I’ll call it in.” He reached for the police radio, letting dispatch know where he was, then reached for his cell phone and called Llantano Towing.
Evangeline observed him quietly. Since she first met him, it had been a secret pleasure of hers to watch him work. He was the Chief of Detectives in their small town and very good at what he did. Beyond that, even soaked to the skin, he was beautiful to look at, and Evangeline found herself responding despite knowing better. She always did when he was near her.
“This is Lieutenant McBain. Hey, Gene. Yeah, wild night.” John described Evangeline’s car and present location.
“Listen, tell Red I’ll consider it a personal favor—can he bring it to Hansen’s Garage instead of the impound? Owner will come by tomorrow.”
Evangeline shook her head and touched John’s arm. “I’m out of town for a few days.” He hid his surprise.
“Make that a few days, Gene, copy? Thanks. Tell Red I owe him.” He folded up his phone, then turned to Evangeline.
“They’re pretty busy tonight. They won’t get here for a couple hours. Can I call someone for you?”
“Know a car service? I was on my way to the airport.”
“I can drive you,” he said, not looking at her. He didn’t know the protocol for taking your ex-girlfriend to the airport.
Evangeline hesitated. “That’s a long way out of your way for an old friend,” she said. The airport was almost an hour away in good weather and they weren’t 15 minutes outside Llanview.
“You don’t want to miss your flight, do you?” he asked.
Evangeline leaned back, considering.
“Looks like it’s finally my turn to be rescued by the Great McBain,” she smirked.
John smirked back. His need to be the hero, while instinctive, had come between them when they were together. He’d left her bed more than once to go and help others, especially Natalie Buchanan, and he could tell it must still be a sore spot. You’d think that would be water under the bridge for her by now, he thought. He reached back for his wallet, picked out one of his Llanview Police Department business cards, then took a deep breath before pulling the door handle.
“Sit tight,” he said, then hopped out of his car again. He popped the trunk of Evangeline’s car and got her carry-on bag and her briefcase, then opened the driver’s side door, grabbed her purse, then put the keys up on the visor and locked up the car. Red would have no trouble jimmying the door when he got there. Finally, he slipped his business card under the wiper blade, hoping professional courtesy would keep her from getting a ticket if a State Trooper found her car before Red could get there with the tow truck.
Soaked again, John hustled back to his Mustang, tossed her bags in the back seat, and slid behind the wheel. He handed Evangeline her purse.
“Thanks for grabbing this,” she said, shaking off the water. She’d forgotten all about it.
“It’s included in the standard rescue package,” he joked.
“No extra charge?”
“No charge.” He started his car and pulled them carefully back on the highway, headed for the airport.
*****
Evangeline settled into her first-class seat, hair a mess and curled up into big waves from the rain, but glad to have made her flight. It felt weird, the way John had dropped her off out front of the terminal with an awkward wave—two years ago, he’d have parked and walked her inside to make sure she was safe and there would have been several scorching goodbye kisses—but still, he’d gotten her there with time to spare and she was grateful he’d stopped when he saw her car on the side of the road. I wonder what he was really doing out there tonight, she thought. She’d asked, but he’d answered her question with one of his own and changed the subject. Then they’d filled the silence with small talk, her telling him she was on her way to San Francisco, him, as usual, not saying much.
Evangeline made up her mind to do something nice for him when she got back from her trip: Phillies tickets, maybe, right behind the plate? But then maybe he’d feel obligated, like he couldn’t take someone else. Never easy with that man. But she’d think of something.
The pilot announced they were waiting for the last passenger to board and they’d be closing doors momentarily.
Evangeline, frustrated by yet another delay, closed her eyes. The image of John, soaking wet, water beading on his handsome face, filled her mind. Even with his long hair plastered down, he was breathtaking to look at. So wrong, Vange, to be missing that man this much after all this time. He’s not good for you. Move on, girl.
The last passenger boarded and the flight attendants closed the doors with a flurry of activity. Evangeline, fussing to get her purse stowed under the seat in front of her, almost missed John McBain’s open-handed wave as he walked past her, headed to his seat in business class.
*****
Evangeline stewed through the takeoff and ascent, unsettled by John’s sudden appearance. What the hell was he doing here, on this flight? Half of her wanted to haul back there and cross-examine him, loudly; the other half imagined how ashamed her mother would be if she caused a public scene like that. In the end, Lisa Williamson’s training won out and, Evangeline decided she wasn’t going to get in his face. Still, a girl’s allowed to have questions, isn’t she?
Pulling out her Mont Blanc pen, she signaled to the flight attendant.
Moments later, the same flight attendant parted the curtain and stepped through to the back of the plane. Eyes sweeping side to side, she located the man who’d boarded last and stopped in front of him.
“Officer McBain?” she asked sweetly. He looked up from his book expectantly.
“Lieutenant,” he replied with a small smile. The flight attendant nodded.
“This is for you.” She handed him a cold can of Heineken and a folded United Airlines cocktail napkin.
John took the beer and opened the napkin to see Evangeline’s precise, cursive handwriting.
Are you following me? it said. John pushed out his lower lip and asked the flight attendant if he could borrow her pen. Using the back of his book as a table, he scrawled out a quick reply. Folding the napkin back up around the pen, he handed them over with another smile, a big one this time.
“I get to keep the beer, right?”
“It’s all yours, Lieutenant.” She took the napkin and walked back up the aisle to return it to the sender.
“You were right,” she said, handing Evangeline the note, “he’s like movie-star handsome. And, he’s reading poetry—the sensitive type. You’re a lucky girl.” The flight attendant smiled broadly and continued on to her station at the front of the plane.
Evangeline sucked in a breath and opened the napkin.
NO.
*****
The flight landed early in San Francisco: the weather was clear. As the plane approached the gate, one of the attendants used her microphone to ask Passenger McBain to come forward. Evangeline watched as he removed his suit bag from the first class closet and slung it over his shoulder, then stepped forward to the exit row and waited, facing the door, hands on his hips. Moments after the plane came to a stop, the door opened with a whoosh. A member of the ground crew stepped up to John, who held up his shield case, showing first the gold medallion, then flipping it with a practiced motion so the crewman could read the ID card on the back. The man nodded and handed him a small, grey case.
John turned back and met Evangeline’s eyes over the heads of the other first-class passengers. Thanks, he mouthed, bringing his hand up as though he were drinking a beer. Then he disappeared through the open hatch.