His Only Wife

Tourists in motor homes, cowboys in pickup trucks, and teenagers in hot rods with the radios blasting. Not much had changed about the Pineville service station over the last decade from what Aubrey Stuart could see, except maybe the price of gas. And her. She guided her mini SUV toward the far island and parked beside a pump. Pushing the door open with one hand, she grabbed her tiny purse off the front passenger seat and stepped outside. In the blink of an eye, she exchanged airconditioned comfort for the heat of Arizona high country in late June. While waiting for her credit card purchase to be authorized, she removed the cap from her gas tank and eyed the constant stream of vehicles coming and going. Everything about this place was familiar to Aubrey. During the fourhour drive from Tucson, she'd steeled herself against the pain that the sight of Pineville always brought on during those few short visits she'd made through the years. But to her vast relief, there wasn't any. Only a twinge of melancholy. Could it be she was really and truly over Gage Raintree? A highpitched electronic beep drew her attention to the gas pump and the message scrolling across the panel in vivid green letters. "Cash only, see clerk inside," Aubrey read out loud and sighed. With another hour's drive still ahead of her, she had wanted this to be a quick inandout stop. Better to be safe than sorry, she decided. Thirtyfoot dropoffs in some places made the winding dirt road to her grandmother's home in Blue Ridge treacherous. Running out of gas halfway there would be at best an inconvenience, at worse a disaster. Slamming the door of her SUV shut, she headed toward the minimart, extracting a twentydollar bill from her purse as she went. Ten years earlier, on the day she left Blue Ridge, she'd walked through this same door. In some ways, it felt like a lifetime ago. In other ways, only yesterday. Back then, she'd been all innocence, painfully shy, and skinny as a broomstick. The brainy older daughter of renowned heart surgeon Alexander Stuart. Her younger sister, Annie, used to call her a nerd, and rightfully so. Aubrey hadn't just fit the description, she'd defined it. With the exception of Gage Raintree, the male population at large hardly noticed she existed. "Enough already," she grumbled, snapping out of her reverie. An hour away from Blue Ridge and already she had a bad case of Gage Raintree on the brain. What would it be like when she arrived at her grandmother's? Her movements purposeful, Aubrey strode into the minimart and went straight to stand in line behind several other people. The store was packed, taxing the sole clerk's limited abilities. She felt sorry for the poor kid when the man ahead of her vehemently complained about the inconvenience. Her turn finally came. "Twenty dollars on pump three." She smiled pleasantly, handing the clerk her money. "And I need a receipt, please." He appeared grateful that she wasn't going to bite his head off like everyone else. "Anything else, ma'am?" "No, thank you." She took the receipt and started toward the door. At the sound of a familiar voice, her knees locked. "Aubrey?" She stood immobile and willed her gaze not to fly around the store. "Aubrey, is that you?" What were the odds of him being here? In this convenience store, at the exact same moment as her? Well, this was the last gas station on the road out of town. "Aubrey Stuart?" the voice called again. She had to look. There was simply no avoiding it. And, well, he didn't sound mad. That was a good sign, right? Mustering her courage, she turned slowly around and came facetoface with her exhusband. "I thought you weren't arriving until tomorrow," he said. "Hello, Gage." Her voice quivered. It had a tendency to do that when she was nervous or uncomfortable or, like nMcDavid, Cathy is the author of 'His Only Wife ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373751723 and ISBN 0373751729.