Nona King | Spirit Driven Fiction

“Yes, I know I’m not supposed to be calling on my cell, Matt. Thanks for that.” Mary’s eyes flicked to her rearview mirror as her friend harped at her about tickets and worse if she found herself at the side of the road with an officer asking her why she felt the need to talk on the phone while driving.

In unfamiliar territory.

“Fine, fine.” She clicked the phone to speaker and placed it in the cubby in the middle of her dash. “If you can’t hear me, it’s not my fault.”

“Not hear you? Please.”

“Are you calling me a loudmouth?”

“I would never say that… to your face.”

“You still didn’t. You’re on the phone.” Matt chuckled, encouraging Mary’s lips upward. “So now that I’m not tempting the heavens with doom and you’re tucked away in the cubby, are you ready to listen to me?”

“Shoot.”

“I….” Mary blinked at the tailend of the grey minivan ahead of her. “You’ve got to be kidding. I forgot what I called you for.” The robust laughter of her friend and business partner echoed through the small space of her old red coupe. “Just remember how gracious I am being when you have a moment of cranial flatulence.”

“Sorry, Mare. I could just imagine your expression. So where are you, anyway?”

“Somewhere between here and there.”

“Funny. Seriously.”

“I’m somewhere north of Depoe Bay, I think.” Lush Douglas Firs towered above her, the homes and yards tucked away in peace and mystery. “You really should see this place. It’s absolutely gorgeous. The trees are so close together that the sun can’t even whisper across the road.”

“Really? Awesome. Take pictures.”

“Yeah. Like I’m going to get in a wreck to snap some shots while I’m driving.”

“Mare, seriously? It’s called a shoulder. You pull over and snap a shot through an open window.”

“Right. I knew that.” A flash of light caught Mary’s attention. Her stomach lurched and settled as her eyes were bombarded with red and blue. “Oh crap.”

“You never swear. That can’t be good.”

“State Trooper, judging from the white car.”

“Oh boy. Um. Sorry, Mare. I’m ditching you. Good luck, sweets.”

“Thanks a lot.” Mary grimaced and pulled off the two-lane road as best she could. As long as she didn’t ramble and sound guilty, she would be fine. After all, she was on speakerphone. So she looked mad, talking to herself, that wasn’t a crime, was it?

Was it?

“God, please help me keep myself from sounding insane,” she murmured as she watched the tall trooper approach. Flat-brimmed hat, no glasses, gun and handcuffs, monotone brown… it was all a blur. “Registration! Crap. Please tell me it’s in my book. Please, please.” She grabbed at the book of auto-important papers from her glovebox. The escapade would make a great blog post, she could almost bet.

“Good morning, miss.” The shadow fell across her papers strewn across the passenger seat. “How are you this fine morning?”

“I’m doing well, thanks.” Not as well as she hoped about this time, but who could complain? “I’m looking for my registration right now.”

“No worries. Take your time. I noticed your license frame says Portland. Are you visiting family?”

“Oh no. Fam lives in Oregon City.” She cast him a fast smile, her whirlwind mind barely registering the white teeth and tanned features as her fingers delved through the pages of the binder. “Actually, I’m checking out some places here and there for a shop. Felt like a drive, and I love road trips. Cannon Beach is my favorite. The trees and beach? Gorgeous, always. Never fails.”

You’re rambling. She nibbled her lip into submission and slipped the registration from the back of the black book. Then she gathered up her insurance card and her photo ID and handed them over, her eyes not lifting from their instant focus of the imposing thick leather black utility belt. Batman would be proud.

“You realize this is expired?”

Mary’s gaze snapped to his, brilliant blue, and blinked. “You’re kidding.”

“Yes. I am.” He smiled, his caramel blond hair a perfect compliment to his sun kissed skin and those eyes. “You seemed a little flustered, and sometimes a nudge can ease the tension.” He lifted one of his broad shoulders. “Or make them cry. I took a chance.”

Mary heard her nervous twitter of a giggle and internally groaned.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“No idea. Oh, wait. I noticed the speed limit and slowed down….” She noticed his lips twitching upward. “Oh. Speeding. Right. Great.” She couldn’t help the deep breath, thankful it didn’t turn into a whimper. She never sped. Ever.

“Give me a minute, Miss… Jensen.”

“Sure thing.”

The trooper stepped away. He looked to be all leg and torso and arms. Mare, isn’t that every body part necessary? She slapped her forehead. Just don’t argue, she warned herself, if he gives you a ticket. You were speeding. It’s as plain as that. It doesn’t matter if you were just going as fast as everyone else.

Maybe he would just give her a warning? After all, her record was squeaky clean. No accidents. No DUIs. Nothing at all—just stop thinking about it! She tapped a rhythm against the steering wheel, her gaze darting to the phone in the cubby. She snatched it up and took some quick shots of the surrounding area. It really was gorgeous, all the greens and browns. April had to be one of her favorite months.

She shared some of the images to her social networks, a special one of the trooper and his unit lights to Matt, and then chucked the phone back into the cubby. At least she… well…. Mary shrugged. Yes, it would make a most excellent post this evening when she limped home with her tail between her legs.

The trooper sauntered toward her coupe, all smiles and charm. Mary’s hopes rose. Please, Lord, let me out of this one—just this once. “Hi.” She accepted the papers back, smiling up at him while hoping she didn’t look like she tried to pull a fast one. “I’m sorry about going so fast. I was following behind a minivan and just loving the scenery so much that I didn’t pay attention. It was a good thing I saw the speed limit sign after that last intersection.”

You’re rambling. She plastered a smile across her tight lips.

“Well, I’m glad you like it out here. Quite partial to it myself. Now, you were doing quite a number over the speed limit, so unfortunately I cannot let you off with just a simple warning.”

His pen continued its scribbling as horror smeared the smile from her face. She hung it back. “Oh, sure, I understand.” Do I? “I’m really sorry. I… I’m sure you hear this a lot, but I never speed. At most I go five over because then I don’t feel like I’m driving like an old woman.”

He chuckled. “Understandable, and appreciated. Just keep yourself safe while you’re over here. At least you weren’t talking on the cell while driving, right?”

Her gaze darted to the cell phone as she forced another smile. “Right.”

“I won’t put the amount down as going fifteen over. At least that much should help.” He ripped the ticket from his book, causing a cringe, and handed it to her.

She received it with a continuation of the plastic smile. “Thanks, officer.” Yeah. Thanks a lot.

“You have a good day now.”

“You, too.”

He tipped his flat-brimmed hat toward her and sauntered back toward his unit. Mary stared down at the ticket, her eyes zeroing in on the amount in the lower corner. This time she whimpered. It would be $120 that wouldn’t go into savings to buy the coffee shop. If there was a time to utter a mild expletive, it would be now. Instead, she forced in a deep breath as her trembling hands clutched the steering wheel, the ticket crinkling in her grasp. Then she crammed it into the cubby with the phone, put the car in gear, and carefully eased onto the still two-lane road.

“Yeah. Thanks a lot, officer.”

But she couldn’t let this be a black mark on the day. There was simply too much to do before she had to scoot for home. She couldn’t let the day go to waste. Moving forward was what she wanted to do, and this would be a perfect test for her gumption, officer and all.

“OK, God. Let’s go.” She turned on her radio and ignored the cell phone when it rang Matt’s tune.