Chapter 9
"You…uh…always drive like this?" Bobby asked stiffly as they whipped through downtown traffic. He held one hand to the back of his neck as though checking to make sure her jolting takeoff, as well as her hairpin twists and turns, hadn't done any permanent damage.
"Sorry, I'm just not used to this car," Tara gave him a rather sheepish look of apology. "I had a sports car when I was in college, but it was just a little 4-cylinder. I think this one must be a six."
"Eight," he corrected her, wincing as she swerved, narrowly missing a car that slowed in front of them. "Quite powerful actually. It would be rather easy to lose control."
"Don't worry about it," Tara reassured him. "I'm a great driver. I took the defensive driving course at Quantico."
A spray of sand and gravel showered upward when the two right tires left the pavement and hit the shoulder. Tara overcorrected, swerved, and brought the car firmly back under control on the right side of the road. She didn't look at Bobby, though she saw out of the corner of her eye that his hands were clenched on his knees, the knuckles conspicuously white.
"Yes," Bobby said just loud enough for her to hear, releasing his knees to reach for his seat beat fastening it with a loud snap. "I can see that my life is in good hands."
"Sorry, I'll slow down," Tara eased up on the accelerator, feeling a bit guilty that her restlessness had made her reckless. She smiled shyly, hearing him murmur something that might have been a thank you.
"This city is beautiful," Tara commented after a few minutes. "San Antonio really captures the spirit of Texas," she pointed out the places they passed, which carefully blended cosmopolitan progress. For a while, they just watched the people they passed.
"You know Native Americans first lived along the San Antonio River calling the area 'Yanaguana', which means 'refreshing waters' or 'clear waters'," Tara explained. "A band of Spanish explorers and missionaries came upon the river in 1691, and because it was the feast day of St. Anthony, they named the river 'San Antonio'," she finished slowly, noticing that Bobby was looking at her strangely.
"You said last night you've never been to San Antonio before?" Bobby smiled at her questioningly.
"I haven't," she bit her bottom lip, concentrating on the traffic in front of them. "I read that somewhere I think," she blushed at his attention.
"Well, besides the Alamo, there were four other missions established by Franciscan friars in the early 18th Century," Bobby continued, breaking the silence that had developed. "The Mission Nuestra Senora de la Purisima Concepcion, established in 1731 as a massive church with twin towers and cupola, is oldest unrestored stone church in U.S. Church, where acoustics are equated with the Mormon Tabernacle."
"The Mission San Francisco de la Espada, also established 1731, has been restored several times and is still in use. The Mission San Jose y San Miguel de Aguayo, also known as the 'Queen of Missions', is both a State and National Historic Site," Bobby turned to look wide-eyed at the forty-foot-high cowboy boots outside Saks Fifth Avenue at North Star Mall. "And Mission San Juan Capistrano, like both Espada and Concepcion, had extensive restoration work, and besides a charming little chapel with open bell tower, there are ruins of a larger church that was never completed."
"And you know this because?" Tara questioned, her eyebrows raised. She was surprised by Bobby knowledge of the San Antonio missions that she'd completely missed the oversized 'footwear.'
"I watch Discovery Channel too, shelia," Bobby winked, giving her a dimpled grinned. "What? Aren't you interested in history?"
"Not particularly," she answered candidly. "But anything is better than sitting in my room with a dumb book. I might as well broaden my mind, since I have nothing better to do."
Bobby chuckled.
Realizing how ungracious she'd sounded, Tara groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead. She placed it back on the wheel quickly, to Bobby's obvious relief. Both of them were aware that the long, busy bridge was no place to start swerving again.
"I'm sorry, Bobby. I didn't really mean that I've kidnapped you for the afternoon for lack of anything better to do," Tara sighed, not wanting to go back to the way it was when they started this assignment. "I'm more fascinated with history in general, and just never really got into the military side of things," she smiled, glancing over at him.
Bobby smiled back at her, and she thought again that he was a very attractive man. She liked his smile and his bottomless blue eyes. It was a shame he had Darcy waiting for him back home, she reflected somberly.
Their gazes held for a moment more before Bobby cleared his throat, tapping the dash to recall her attention to her driving. "I think we'll enjoy ourselves more if we arrive in one piece," he suggested teasingly, breaking the tension between them.
"I'm sure you're right," Tara laughed, turning her full concentration to her driving. "Hang on, friend. We're off to have fun…even if it kills us."
"What a pleasant thought," Bobby remarked wryly, but seemed to relax when she did.
Maybe this will be fun after all, Tara mused with a faint smile.
Chapter 10
Many tourists were disappointed when they first saw the Alamo, expecting an impressive structure in a true Old-West setting. Instead, they found the old mission shadowed on every side by hotels, shopping malls, and tourist booths. The Alamo compound, bordered by a surprisingly low rock wall, contained a museum, a theater, a shrine, and a souvenir shop stocked with Alamo key chains, drinking glasses, postcards, and fake coonskin caps.
A sign outside the chapel everyone associated with the Alamo – the original mission San Antonio de Valero – requested that visitors enter quietly, in respect of those who'd died there. Inside, neatly lettered informational signs hung on the pocked walls, finger-smudged glass boxes held historical artifacts such as Davy Crockett's razor and William Travis' ring. Discreetly placed containers solicited donations from tourists for the maintenance of the buildings, for which the Daughters of the Republic of Texas received no state or government funding.
A uniformed park employee stood behind the reception desk to answer questions until the next scheduled historical lecture. Gawking tourists shuffled around the foot-polished rock floor and read the signs aloud. A tiny toddler dashed squealing through the main room, pursued by his mortified mother.
Bobby was slightly disappointed with their visit to the national landmark. This didn't look to him at all like the place where John Wayne had led his fellow actors to a dramatic and glorious defeat in the movie. He overheard the park employee telling another tourist the set of the movie still stood as a tourist attraction in Bracketville, Texas. Walking around the 1758 structure, which had served as such an important symbol since its bloody capture in 1836, he quickly got over his disappointment and felt much more respect it.
Realizing that he was suddenly standing alone in the center of the chapel, Bobby looked around for Tara. He found her in front of the William Travis display case, reading his famous appeal for aid, written during his ill-fated stand against a Mexican army of thousands.
"'I shall never surrender or retreat,'" Tara read in a low, husky voice as Bobby moved to stand next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "'Victory or death.'"
"Can you imagine being so dedicated to a cause that you're willing to die for it?" she whispered looking up at him, her hazel eyes brightened by the sheen of tears.
"We do it every day," Bobby reminded her, wanting so much to pull her into his arms.
"Oh, yeah," Tara grinned watery as he slipped his arm carefully around her shoulders. While she turned her attention back to the inscriptions, Bobby continued to watch her, unable to take his eyes off her.
"One hundred eighty six men died here because freedom meant more to them than life itself. They were true heroes, weren't they?" she whispered softly.
"And almost six hundred Mexicans died here believing they were preserving the glory of their own country," Bobby recalled gently. "Many of them were just young soldiers with dreams and families and the duty to follow the orders they'd been given."
"I wonder if there will be people tracking through Baghdad Palace in a hundred and fifty years like we are here," Tara considered with a sigh, leaning into Bobby's side as she wrapped her arm around his waist.
"I hadn't considered it that way, shelia," Bobby looked thoughtfully as he tightened his arm around her. "In our business, we tend to view it as good versus evil, right against wrong, but it all comes down to individuals, doesn't it?"
Tara cocked her head, looking up at him pensively, her eyes searching his face. Bobby brought his hand up and brushed a stray hair back from her face, his fingers feathering lightly across her cheek. Remember your agreement, he reminded himself.
"What?" Bobby asked, growing uncomfortable under her intense stare.
"Nothing," Tara finally blinked. "That just sounded so much like Sue," she smiled.
"Heh, I guess the little shelia's rubbing off on me," Bobby grinned, his eyes twinkling.
"About time someone good rub off on you," Tara teased him gently, giving him a smile that made his head swim.
Bobby was forced to clear his throat before he could speak again. "Ready to move on?"
"I'm ready," Tara nodded, after one last glance at the display case.
Chapter 11
"Bobby," Tara said as he drove away Alamo. After her experience with the car earlier, she thought it best if she let him to the driving.
"Yeah, shelia," Bobby responded, pulling the car into traffic.
"We've done what interested me so far this afternoon," Tara said. "Surely there's something you'd like to do before we go back to the house."
"Actually, there is," Bobby nodded, glancing at the many tourist attractions around them.
"What is it?" Tara asked encouragingly.
"I want food," Bobby grinned, spinning to the wheel of the car, swinging into a parking lot. "And not that elegant fufu stuff like at Alexander's last night. I want something greasy and fattening, and totally non-nutritious. A cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate milk shake," he finished, parking in front of a building decorated with the universally recognized golden arches.
Tara looked at Bobby like he'd grown two heads, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. Hundreds of miles from home, but some things never change, she thought.
"You can have chocolate, but I'm having strawberry," she winked, reaching for her door handle and getting out before he could respond. Shaking his head, Bobby chuckled before following her to the door.
After they placed their orders at the counter, Bobby followed Tara to a booth at the back of the room, as far as possible from the noisy corner where a small child's birthday party was in progress. The tall Aussie bit into his burger with a sigh of delight.
"Mmm," Bobby murmured. "That's exactly what I needed."
Bobby looked up to find that Tara was watching him. She hadn't even unwrapped her own burger yet and had a faraway look in her eyes.
"Tara?" he prompted. "Aren't you hungry, shelia?"
"Oh, yeah," Tara blinked, picking up her burger and fussing with the paper covering, seeming to avoid his eyes for a moment.
Bobby thought somewhat concerned that she looked uncomfortable. Why? he wondered. Was she worried about making a mess here or something? This place wasn't as bad as Slappy's and she never seemed to feel out of place there? he thought. Was it me?
Turning back to his burger, Bobby found that he wasn't quite as hungry as he was before.
Chapter 12
When they left the fast-food restaurant, Bobby mentioned there was something else he really wanted to do. Seeing the playful smile that had come across his face, Tara knew there was nothing he could ask for that she wouldn't do to indulge him.
"What?" she asked.
"That," Bobby grinned, pointing to a gaudy, colorful place across the street from the burger joint.
"Miniature golf?" Tara frowned, when she followed the direction of his pointing finger.
"Yes, and it looks like a great course, doesn't it, shelia?" Bobby beamed. "Look at that windmill and the castle. I bet that's a tough one."
"I wouldn't know," Tara continued to frown.
"Haven't you ever played miniature golf, shelia?" he looked down at her in amazement.
"If I have," she considered, the question for a moment, "I've forgotten."
"Well, shelia, that settles it. We have to play," Bobby stated firmly. "It's just un-American to have never played miniature golf," he told her seriously.
"I don't think I'll be very good," Tara didn't look very convinced as she chewed on her lower lip uncertainly.
"Don't sweat it, shelia," Bobby told her, draping his arm across her shoulders. "Everyone's a little nervous their first time, but I promise, I'll be gentle with you."
Bobby gave her an innocent smile when she looked at him with suddenly narrowed eyes. He wasn't so sure how she'd react to the double entendre, but he hadn't been able to resist finding out.
"All right," Tara said, cocking her head to the side. "Take me, I'm yours!"
This time, Bobby lifted an eyebrow in response to the unexpected tone in which she'd spoke. He didn't anticipate an answer like that coming from her.
"Take me to play golf," Tara smiled wickedly. "That's what I meant, of course." She resisted the impulse to fan her suddenly warm cheeks with one hand as she led the way across the street.
Bobby shook his head smiling. She really did have a tendency to surprise him at times, he thought. In fact, there were moments when he wasn't at all sure that she was quite as mild-mannered and innocent as she had always seemed.