Cinderella Wore Tennis Shoes: A Novella Read online

  It seemed like such a little dream, but as the priest had asked his question, she’d realized that it was everything to her.

  For a while she’d thought she loved Winslow. When she realized that she didn’t love him the way he should be loved, her mother was already in the thick of wedding planning and assured Charlie that her feelings were just nerves.

  When Charlie had insisted it was more than prewedding jitters, her mother had assured her that she’d learn to love Winslow.

  Winslow had also assured her that it was okay. That he knew she loved him.

  Time and time again, she’d told her mother and Winslow her worries, but in the end she’d always allowed herself to be convinced she was just a nervous bride-to-be.

  But looking in his eyes as everyone waited for her to say her vows, she’d realized that she would never be able to love him the way a wife should love a husband.

  She wasn’t even sure she liked him.

  After their engagement, he’d begun to treat her as more of an appendage than a lover. As if he thought that by marrying her and lifting her out of her humble heritage, he had gained an expensive plaything rather than a wife.

  When she’d confessed her fears to him after the engagement, he’d pooh-poohed them. He’d cited his expense and how embarrassed he’d be to cancel the wedding at the last minute.

  As they stood in front of everyone, Charlie had realized that he’d never mentioned the word love.

  Okay, so she should have corrected it before she stood in front of the priest with a church full of guests waiting to hear her I-do’s. Instead they heard an I-don’t and watched as she fled.

  Why had he been so insistent about marrying her?

  Winslow’s motives were his own, though she suspected he wanted the marriage to save face. He’d broken up with longtime girlfriend Susan Michaels the year before, and Charlie suspected he’d started dating her on the rebound.

  So now what?

  Maybe she could convince the driver, Dan, to let her finish out the trip with him. It would give her time to think and plan her next move before they returned to Erie. That was, if he was going back through Erie.

  Charlie realized she couldn’t make any plans until she knew more about Dan. Time to talk to him. Then she’d make plans. If there was one thing Charlie Eaton was good at, it was making plans. Of course, frequently those plans went awry, but that was neither here nor there. She was good at making them.

  Giving her hair another fluff with her fingers, she pulled back the curtain and crept into the passenger seat.

  Dan glanced at her, his eyes making a quick appraisal. “Little big, huh?”

  “I guess that when you’re standing, you’re taller than I am. I’m not usually anyone’s little girl at five ten.”

  “I’ve got you by four inches.”

  “And a couple more around the waist.” She’d turned the waistband on itself a couple of times, which gave the elastic more to hold on to. “I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet, but thanks for rescuing me. Most knights ride horses, but I think a semi has a certain sense of flair.”

  Actually, everything about Dan possessed a certain sense of rugged flair. From his perfect black hair to his slightly crooked smile. Charlie had no trouble picturing him as a knight. He seemed perfectly at home riding to her rescue.

  “Just give me a little warning next time, and I’ll see what I can do about a charger. Until then, Gloria will just have to do.”

  “You named your truck Gloria?” Charlie tried to hold back the laughter that was threatening to bubble over.

  “Any rig I’m driving is Gloria.”

  “In remembrance of?”

  “The first woman I . . .” He turned a brilliant shade of red and seemed to be searching for something to say. “I, ah, dated.”

  “Dated?”

  “Dated.” Dan’s tone left no room for further teasing, though the faint blush still tingeing his cheeks almost begged for it.

  A small giggle escaped.

  Sensing that Dan wasn’t a man who appreciated being laughed at, Charlie covered it by coughing.

  “Gloria is just fine with me,” she said when she had herself under control. “I doubt I’ll ever name a car after my almost-husband, unless I was renaming Stephan King’s Christine. And I doubt there will be another man to name one after. I’m done with men. Especially rich men.”

  “Why just rich men?” he asked.

  “Because they think their money is enough, that they don’t have to worry about things like feelings. They think any woman would be glad to have them, simply because of their money. It’s not enough. So I’ve decided that I’m done with them in particular, but all men in general.”

  Men. Who needed them?

  She glanced at Dan. Well, he seemed decent enough, but give him time and he’d probably show his true colors as well.

  Dan’s lips quirked, as if he wanted to laugh but was valiantly holding it back. “Are you done with food as well or are you hungry?”

  Never one to beat around the bush, Charlie said, “But you see, I have a bit of a problem. That dress didn’t have any pockets, so I’m sort of—”

  “Broke,” Dan supplied. “I figured as much. Don’t worry about it. I think I can spot you to a lunch. It might be better to stop somewhere and decide what we’re going to do.”

  We, he’d said. Just like that. He’d not only jumped in and rescued her, but he’d indicated he wasn’t going to walk away and leave her to fend for herself. Maybe there was some hope for mankind after all.

  Charlie really took a look at the man who was piloting the big truck. His hair wasn’t really black, but a dark brown that bordered on black. When he turned and offered her a reassuring smile, she saw his eyes were almost colorless. Gray, she supposed he wrote on forms, but they weren’t quite. They were the type of eyes that changed color according to mood. The kind of eyes that had no secrets. Eyes that could be trusted.

  Kind eyes.

  Maybe she should have paid more attention to Winslow’s eyes. She doubted they had an ounce of kindness in them. Condescending eyes. As if the fact he was rich should be enough for her. But it wasn’t. She wanted love too.

  “Thank you,” she finally said.

  He didn’t acknowledge the thanks. Instead he asked, “What are you hungry for?”

  “Something fattening and greasy. Something you wouldn’t serve if the president was coming to dinner.” Something as far removed from the most elaborate wedding dinner possible that her mother and Winslow had planned.

  Again his lips quirked, as if he’d like to smile but wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. “I think I can manage that.”

  “Like I said, you’re my hero.”

  Rather than some smart comeback, he just gave a brief nod in her direction and kept his eyes on the road.

  Charlie sighed and sank back into the seat. Twenty-four hours ago she’d been eating at the country club with her fiancé, her mother, and the ten bridesmaids that her mother and husband-to-be had insisted on. She’d been wearing silk and planning a life with Winslow.

  Now she was riding in the cab of a semi, broke, not even owning the clothes on her back, and she was more content than she’d been since . . . she was hard-pressed to think of a time she’d been more content.

  “How’s this?” Dan asked as he pulled into a truck stop. “It doesn’t look like much, but it’s got good food.”

  “I’ve never been one to worry too much about appearances. It’s what’s inside that counts. And if good food is what’s inside, then I’m all for it.”

  “Then this is our place.” Dan parked at the edge of the parking lot, maneuvering the big rig with an ease that amazed Charlie.

  He was waiting as she tried to back out of the cab. Strong hands wrapped effortlessly around her waist, and he gently lowered her to the g
round. As she trailed after Dan across the parking lot, Charlie realized that she hadn’t minded his hands at all.

  She had never been comfortable with strangers touching her, but this man’s touch didn’t offend. As a matter of fact, it felt . . . she searched for the word.

  Right.

  It felt right that he should touch her.

  She trailed slightly behind him, watching her knight in shining armor and trying to understand what it all meant.

  He turned and grabbed her hand. “Coming?”

  Charlie smiled. “Let’s go.”

  He held the door open for her.

  “Thanks.” Charlie walked into the small diner.

  “Dan, honey,” a woman shouted from across the room.

  “Hey, Shirl,” he called back with a nod as he led Charlie to a booth. “Let me see if I can find a menu. The odds of Shirl bringing one for me is slim to nil. I’m a regular.”

  “Don’t worry.” She slid into the seat. “They have cheeseburgers, right?”

  Dan took his seat across from her. “The best in the state.”

  “Well, that’s what I’ll take, with all the fixin’s and fries.”

  Shirl appeared at the table. “Regular?” she asked Dan.

  “Do I ever get anything else?”

  “Honey, you’re a man I can count on. And your friend?”

  “Cheeseburger, the works, fries, and . . .” He turned to Charlie. “Drink?”

  “Do you have milkshakes?” Charlie asked Shirl.

  “The best.” The woman flashed a toothy, friendly grin.

  “Strawberry, please.”

  “Gotcha.” The waitress leaned over and kissed Dan’s cheek. “She’s cute,” she said with a nod toward Charlie.

  Dan suddenly became very interested in his glass of water. He was embarrassed again. Charlie wasn’t sure what to make of the quiet man who had rode to her rescue and embarrassed as easily as a schoolboy.

  “I suppose you’d like me to explain about today?” she offered.

  He shook his head in denial. “I don’t expect an explanation.”

  Charlie raked her fingers through her hair. She could still feel the styling gel her mother had insisted on and longed for a shower to rinse away the last reminders of her aborted wedding. “I think I owe you one. I’m not sure how much sense it will make.”

  “Then don’t—”

  Charlie kept right on talking over his protest. “I’ve never been what you’d call a rebel. I go with the flow. When I met Winslow, well, I was flattered that he was interested. And my mother? Well, for the first time in my life, she was proud of me.”

  “Because this Winslow was interested in you?” he asked.

  “I . . . my mother is hard to explain. Actually, I’d have to understand her to explain her, and I don’t. All I know is the more I saw of Winslow, the happier she was. After spending most of my life being ignored, it was”—she paused and searched for the right word—“novel. And I was able to convince myself that she really did care.”

  “But?”

  Before Charlie could answer, Shirl was back with their meals.

  “Here you go, Dan,” Shirl said. She didn’t use a tray and yet managed the two glasses and two plates with flawless ease. “Hope you enjoy, honey,” she said as she plopped their meals down and ran off to the other side of the room where someone was bellowing her name.

  Charlie looked at Dan’s plate, a mirror image of her own. “Your regular is a cheeseburger?”

  “Shake too.”

  She peered in his glass. “Chocolate, not strawberry.”

  He simply nodded and dug in.

  Charlie followed his lead, and after the first bite paused and wiped her mouth. “Oh, my gosh, Dan, this is wonderful.”

  “Save some room for dessert. The pies are out of this world.”

  Charlie slurped her milkshake.

  Toward the end of the meal, his eating slowed. “You didn’t really explain why you were hitchhiking.”

  Charlie popped a fry in her mouth and sighed. “You see, I was supposed to marry Winslow Carter today and bear a bunch of little Carter heirs. I was supposed to be the perfect little wife, docile and obedient. I was supposed to be my mother’s ticket into a world she’d always dreamed about.”

  Those gray eyes held her gaze. “But?”

  “I got cold feet.” No, that wasn’t exactly right, and she tried to explain. “Not exactly cold feet. I finally realized Winslow didn’t love me. He thought he could control me, and control is something that appeals to Winslow almost as much as it does to my mother. And I’ve discovered I don’t really care for being controlled.”

  “So you ran out on him at the last minute?”

  He appeared confused.

  For some reason most adults she talked to eventually appeared confused. Charlie should have been used to it. Words never came out exactly how she wanted. She sometimes thought she talked so much in hopes that at least a percentage of the words would come out right, but for the most part it didn’t seem to help.

  “I know,” she said with a sigh. “It seems dramatic, but I honestly thought I could marry him. I believed my mother and Winslow when they said my reservations were just prewedding jitters. Or maybe I just wanted to believe them because it was easier.

  “But as I looked into his eyes and the whole church was waiting for me to say ‘I do,’ I realized I didn’t, and it wasn’t just cold feet. I didn’t and I never would. So, I said ‘I don’t’ and left.”

  Dan was silent a moment and then said, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” Charlie was getting the impression that Dan didn’t make a habit of asking questions.

  “It’s not really a question, more of an observation. You don’t seem all that broken up over your failed wedding.”

  “You know what I felt when I ran out of that church? Relief. The moment I said my I-don’ts, I realized I was done trying to buy my mother’s approval and her love. Marrying a man I didn’t love—a man whose family’s position she coveted—just to please her was just stupid.”

  Charlie looked at the man who sat across from her. He simply waited. Watched her and waited, as if what she had to say mattered. That he thought so, or even pretended to think so, touched her.

  “I might be broke and homeless, but I’m free. I let myself think I loved him because it was easier.”

  “Easier?” His eyebrows arched and he waited, silently encouraging her to go on.

  “Harriet, my mother, wanted the match—wanted it badly. Somewhere along the line I just sort of fell into the swing of things and assumed I loved Win. I let myself believe I loved him because it was easier than admitting I didn’t.” She paused. “Like I said, I don’t like to make waves.”

  “I think you made more than a wave when you walked out of the ceremony—”

  “And instead of being embarrassed, all I felt was relief and a sense of freedom. I don’t think my mother will ever love me the way I want to be loved, but I realize now that I can live with that. I’ve decided I’m done going with the flow. I plan to make some waves.”

  Dan didn’t say anything. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was as if he was processing what she’d said, mulling it over as if her words were of great importance.

  “Now you know the whole ugly story.” She popped her last fry into her mouth. “I left a man up at the altar. I ran away from home. I’m on the road and I’m broke.” She sniffed a bit for effect. “I gave up my apartment, so I’m homeless too.”

  She reached over and helped herself to a couple of Dan’s fries. “So, what do you suggest, my knight errant? This damsel is in need of a fairy godmother.”

  “Pie. I suggest we have dessert and then get back in the truck. I’m on a tight schedule.”

  “You could just leave me here.” Even
as Charlie said the words, she crossed her fingers under the table, praying Dan would object.

  “I could leave you here, if you insisted.” Dan frowned, as if the idea was as unpleasant for him as it was for Charlie. “But only if that’s really what you want.”

  “No.” Charlie was loath to admit how much she didn’t want that. “I’ve never ridden in a truck before. I kind of think I like it.”

  “I’m going as far as Columbus, then back to Erie. That should give us plenty of time to think of a solution to your housing problem and get you back on your feet.”

  As he said the words, any residual tension melted from Charlie’s body. She realized she should be worried, but she wasn’t. She was with a quiet man who in just an hour had made her feel more important than her mother and Winslow had ever made her feel.

  No, she wasn’t worried at all. She was . . . Charlie searched for the proper word to describe her feeling. Exhilarated.

  Yes, she was exhilarated with a sudden sense that the world was her oyster.

  “So, what kind today?” Shirl was snapping gum, waiting, pen poised.

  “What are my choices?” Despite his serious expression, Dan gave Charlie the impression of a little boy visiting the toy store.

  “Boysenberry, chocolate cream, coconut cream, cherry, lemon meringue, raisin, and Tony’s everything-but-the-kitchen-sink.”

  “Tony’s.” The tone of his voice suggested there was no question about which one he should pick.

  “That good?” Charlie asked him.

  “Better.”

  “I’ll have the same, thanks,” she told Shirl.

  “It might not be a wedding cake, but after you’ve tasted Tony’s pie, you won’t mind.”

  Though his expression didn’t change, Charlie thought she saw a glint in Dan’s eyes, like that was a humorous attempt to comfort her.

  “Here ya go,” Shirl said with a pop of her gum. She plopped two huge wedges of some chocolaty-looking pie in front of them and handed them forks like a page arming a jousting knight.