Carnal Innocence

whipped around, his gaze speared into hers. “I know.” He sent gravel flying as he tore up the drive.
    Josie hissed and grabbed her calf where one of the stones struck. Furious, she snatched up a handful and flung them after the car.
    “Jesus H. Christ. What’s all this racket?”
    Josie turned to see Dwayne on the porch. His hands were over his eyes. He squinted out from under them, swaying, wearing nothing but his Jockey shorts.
    “It’s nothing,” Josie said on a sigh as she startedback up the steps. There didn’t seem to be anything she could do for Tucker, but she could tend to Dwayne. “Let’s go get us some coffee, honey.”
    The wheel vibrated under Tucker’s hand when he whipped it to make the turn toward town. He was too furious to give a damn when the rear end fishtailed and the tires sang.
    She wasn’t going to get away with it. That single thought ran circles in his head. She was damn well not going to get away with it. Teeth clenched, he punched the accelerator and jumped up to eighty.
    Even with the curves and twists the road took, he could see for miles. The heat waves shimmied up from the patched road and turned distance into a watery mirage. He didn’t know where he was going or what he was going to do, but it would be done now. Right now.
    He closed a hand over the gearshift, preparing to downshift for the curve just before the McNair place. But when he tugged the wheel, the car stayed arrow straight. He had time to swear, to wrestle the wheel, and to tramp on what turned out to be nearly useless brakes.
    With one of her grandmother’s wide-brimmed hats shading her face, Caroline attacked the overgrowth beside her lane. Despite the heat and her aching arms, she was having the time of her life. The clippers were sharp as a razor, and their wooden handles were worn smooth by time and use. The short gardening gloves she wore protected her hands from blisters. She imagined her grandmother wearing them to perform this same homey chore.
    She knew she could have waited and assigned the task to Toby. But she was enjoying it, the sun, the dusty heat, the verdant smell of green. She was enjoying the simple accomplishment of caring for her own. All around her was a chorus of birds, the hum of the afternoon, the heaviness of solitude. It was precisely what she wanted, and after taking a moment to rub her aching shoulder, she sheared off a vine as thick as her thumb.
    She heard the roar of a car engine. Before sheshaded her eyes and looked down toward the slice of road she could see at the end of her lane, she knew it was Tucker. The car was coming so fast, and she recognized the powerful purr of his engine.
    One of these days, she thought as she put a hand on her hip, he was going to turn that car into a Tinker Toy and put himself in the hospital. And if he was heading her way, she would tell him so. Why the man was …
    Her thoughts spun off as she heard the high squeal of rubber on pavement. She heard the shout, and though it contained more fury than fear, she was already running before she heard the crash of glass and rending of metal.
    The clippers went flying out of her hands. Above the roaring of her heart all she could hear was the bouncy strains of the young Carl Perkins warning everybody off his blue suede shoes.
    “Oh my God!” She saw the ruts torn into the grassy shoulder an instant before she spotted the Porsche sitting drunkenly against the post that had held her mailbox. Shattered glass winked like diamonds over the surface of the road. She saw Tucker slumped over the wheel, and screaming his name, ran to the car.
    “Oh, God, my God. Tucker.”
    Terrified to move him, terrified to leave him, she touched gentle hands to his face. She squeaked out a fresh scream when he jerked his head back.
    “Fuck.”
    She inhaled in three shaky gasps. “You
idiot!
I thought you were dead. You should be dead the way you drive. A grown man, tearing down the road like some hyped-up, irresponsible teenager. I don’t see how you can—”
    “Shut up, Caro.” He put a hand to his pounding forehead and discovered he was bleeding. What else was new? When he fumbled for the door handle, she jerked it open herself.
    “If you weren’t hurt, I’d punch you.” But she leaned over to help him to his feet.
    “I’m in the mood to punch back.” His vision grayed, infuriating him, and he leaned on the undamagedrear fender. “Turn the radio off, will you? Get the keys.”
    She was still muttering to