Geir

by Dale Mayer

  “That sounds fantastic,” Nancy said, leaning forward. “When do I get to see them?”

  Morning shook her head. “Not before Friday. I’ll take them down and show the gallery owner. Hopefully he’ll feel justified in giving me the chance.”

  “Self-confidence, remember? You need to have more faith in what you do.”

  “Sure, but what I was doing was just pretty pictures. This is something more,” she confessed. “And I want to do more. I want to do a lot of more.”

  “And the bed-and-breakfast gives you that option,” Nancy said. “You’re doing way better with that than I am with my teaching. I can’t get a job anywhere.”

  “And yet the teachers and the principals all tell you to give it time, to do your substitute days wherever they put you, and eventually you’ll get a full-time job.”

  “That’s what they say, but …” Nancy’s voice trailed off, obviously depressed at the thought for the moment.

  “And didn’t you say you were still looking at moving?”

  “Well, there’s something I didn’t tell you. My mom was talking about moving back home again. When I talked to her yesterday morning, she said she and Dad were maybe done with traveling.”

  “You’ll be happy to see them.”

  “Yes, but not happy to give up the house I have enjoyed entirely alone,” she said with a drawn smile. “It’s nice to have independence.”

  Morning smiled in understanding. “I know, but we’re both tied to our parents in some ways. If my dad forces the issue, then, in theory, I have to sell. There’s no way I can afford to buy him out. Not with property prices what they are these days.”

  “I know. I feel the same way. So, yeah, I was thinking about moving. I just don’t have a location.”

  “True, but you’ve talked about various places over the years, from Washington State to Texas to Maine.” She laughed. “You have a lot more states to choose from.”

  Nancy shrugged. “And yet nothing appeals. I want to move. I want independence. But I want a job.”

  “Have you been applying?”

  Nancy smiled. “Now here’s the surprise,” she said. “I have been applying. I sent out three different résumés yesterday after we talked.”

  “Excellent.” At the same time Morning felt a pain in her chest. “As much as I want you to be happy, I’ll miss you.”

  Nancy leaned forward. “Well, since we’re talking about fictional jobs and fictional moves, why don’t you join me? You can sell this place to get your father off your back. You’ll end up with a very decent chunk of money to live somewhere else, to buy yourself a house. It would give you time for your painting.”

  Morning sighed. “I’m a long way from being able to live off my paintings, but it’s a nice thought.”

  “But you don’t know that. You can buy another bed-and-breakfast, have no mortgage, have no father breathing down your back and still be independent, doing what you want to do.”

  “I’ll think about it, but, like you said, it’s a fictional location.” She gave a little laugh and glanced at her watch. “It’s a quarter to eleven. I need to go home.”

  The two women stood. Outside the coffeehouse, they stopped for a moment, then walked down the block. As they got closer to their houses, Morning saw lights on in her bed-and-breakfast. “Somebody’s home,” she said. “Considering curfew is up anytime now, that’s a good thing.”

  “It’s still creepy. Strangers in your space.”

  Morning chuckled. “I prefer to think of them as friends I haven’t met.”

  “Only if they’re nice people. A lot of weirdos are out there.”

  Morning looked up and thought she saw a shadow cross one of the bedroom windows.

  As they got closer, Nancy said, “Which one of the sexy guys is in that room?”

  Morning checked the other lights. “I don’t know. One is in that room, and the other is on the same side but at the back of the house.” But, as she could see, the light was on in the front. But she swore it hadn’t been on when she had left.

  “He just took a left.”

  Geir yelled, “I see him.” He quickly turned the vehicle left, then took a right, changed lanes and followed the car.

  “Any idea where he’s going?” Jager asked.

  “He’s trying to shake us off his tail.”

  “And it looks like he’s looping back around again.”

  “Shit,” Geir said as he wrenched the rear tire on a hard-right corner, tires squealing. “The cops should’ve had him. We called a long time ago.”

  “We don’t know what might have delayed the cops,” Jager said. He held on to the dash and to the seat belt across his chest. “Is it my imagination, or is he working his way back toward the bed-and-breakfast again?”

  “Bastard. I bet he is,” Geir snapped. “Morning is too nice, too friendly and too open. An asshole like that could take advantage of her.”

  “I know. But she’s one of those sunshine kind of people who sees the good in everyone. And we’ve been in the shadows for so long that we don’t know anything other than the darker side.”

  “Which is why Morning is special,” Geir said, his lips twitching. “I don’t understand who she is and how she can be like she is.”

  “She’s never had to deal with a negative dark side or the scary side, like we have.”

  Sure enough, three corners later, they were ripping down the same street they’d been up before. Only this time, up ahead, standing on the sidewalk talking, were two women. “Oh, please no,” Geir yelled.

  The Buick in front of them turned and veered right toward the women.

  Geir hit his horn hard, and the girls jumped out of the way as the lead vehicle bounced up the curb, missed them, bounced back onto the street again and tore off into the night.

  Geir pulled up beside the women, and both men raced out of the truck. Geir ran toward Morning Blossom, who was sitting in shock on the grass. He crouched beside her. “Are you okay?”

  She stared up at him with a glazed look. “Did that car just try to run us down?”

  His hands were busy checking out her hips and legs as he nodded.

  “Really?” She looked at him. “What about Nancy? Is she hurt?”

  “No, she’s fine.” Geir had already seen Jager help her to her feet. Geir glanced at her. “I asked if you were okay, and you didn’t answer me.”

  She sighed. “Give me a hand up.”

  He helped her to her feet, and she winced.

  She stood on one foot, her other lifted off the grass.

  “Did you twist your ankle?”

  “Maybe, I don’t know.” She tried to put her weight on her foot and swore gently as she brought it back up again. “Looks like it. Crap. I can’t afford this. I need my feet. My house has a lot of stairs.”

  Without any warning he bent, scooped her into his arms and carried her inside the B&B.

  She laughed and protested. “I can walk, you know.”

  “Hardly.” He carried her into the kitchen, put her in a chair with her feet up on the chair beside her, where he gently eased her injured foot out of its shoe. “I’ll get some ice on that right away.”

  “It’s not that bad. I can at least put my weight on it now. It hurts, but it’s not terrible.”

  “And, if we get it treated right away, it’ll be that much easier.” He came back from the freezer with a bag of frozen peas.

  She raised her eyes. “Well, those were for your dinner tomorrow night.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe not.” He walked into the living room, grabbed a cushion off one of the couches and returned, putting it under her foot. He looked back at her. “Are you feeling in shock at all?” His gaze was intent on her cheeks and her eyes. Her eyes were still dilated slightly, but she didn’t appear to be further injured.

  She shook her head. “Honest, I’m fine. It was just such a surprise to have that car come up onto the sidewalk.”

  “Even worse, I’m afraid it was intended.”


  She stared at him wordlessly, her jaw dropping. “It wasn’t an accident? He wasn’t just trying to catch a cell phone on the floor or something and twisted the wheel accidentally?”

  Geir shook his head. “I don’t think so. We’d been chasing him for the last ten minutes. This was the second time he’d come up this street. I’m afraid it was on purpose.”

  She stared at him. “So did they know it was me, or was he just trying to run anyone down so you would stop and help us?”

  He sat back and looked at her. “That’s a good question. I don’t have an answer for you.”

  “Why were you chasing him?”

  “Because we think he shot somebody when we were standing outside a house.”

  This time her eyes grew round, and she stared at him. “Wow. Your life is exciting.”

  He chuckled. “Some excitement I could do without.”

  “No doubt,” she muttered. “It’s past curfew now. I wonder if everybody is in.”

  “What do you normally do at curfew?”

  “I lock all the doors. If guests haven’t made it back, they haven’t made it back.”

  He nodded. “In that case I’ll do that.”

  Jager stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. “No, I can do it. You stay here.”

  Morning turned to look at him. “How is Nancy?”

  “She’s fine. She was farther back than you were from the street.”

  “Oh, good. I’d feel terrible if she had been hit.”

  “I walked her home to make sure she was okay, but she’s fine. I also called in the hit and run and passed on the license plate info. Who knows if we’ll hear anything back.”

  “Good. And I’m sure Nancy loved that,” Morning said in a dry tone. “She thinks you two are cute and sexy.”

  “That’s because we are,” Geir said with a grin.

  Jager disappeared rather than answering.

  She looked back at Geir. “He needs to know where all the keys are.”

  Geir frowned at her. “You need keys to lock up?”

  “Just this back kitchen door.” She hesitated.

  “Where are the keys?”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out her key ring with at least a dozen keys on it. She fished out the right one and handed it to him. “This will lock the kitchen door here. The front door has a bolt.”

  “And we have to check the French doors.”

  When Jager returned to the kitchen, Geir handed Jager the keys. “You can lock that kitchen door right there.”

  After he did so, the keys were returned to Morning. They lifted the ice pack and took a closer look. “We’ll do this off and on for the next hour. Ten minutes or so at a time to make sure the swelling doesn’t get too bad. Then you need to stay off it as much as you can.”

  “Well, I can stay off it for a little while,” she said, “but honestly it wasn’t that bad. I think it’s just twisted from being tossed off my feet. I wrenched it slightly.”

  “Maybe, but you still need to be off it as much as you can be.”

  And true to their word they sat there for the next hour and did ice packs off and on until she protested. “Okay, that’s enough. I’ve got to go to bed.”

  Geir nodded, bent forward, eyeing her foot, and said, “Try standing.”

  She got on her feet and took a tentative step. “It’s not that bad.”

  “But not that good.”

  She shrugged. “I can walk on it.” And she took several short steps.

  Geir could see the pain cross her face, but it didn’t appear to be all that bad. “Come on. Let me help you upstairs.” He placed an arm around her shoulders. Together they traveled to the bottom of the stairs, then he helped her up to her room. Once there, he smiled and said, “Good night.” A few feet away he turned to see her standing at the doorway, staring at him. “Anything wrong?”

  She flushed. “No, everything’s fine,” she said as she closed the door.

  Chapter 8

  On Thursday, she woke to the early morning call of birds outside her window. She hadn’t had a great night, tossing and turning, wondering at what kind of a fool she was that she’d stood staring after Geir at the doorway. She put it down to shock, but, at the same time, she knew it was a lot more than that. She flung back the bedcovers and sat up. Her ankle was swollen slightly, but it wasn’t too bad, considering.

  She got on her feet experimentally and walked slowly to the bathroom. The foot was functional, but the guys were right; she should stay off it as much as possible. She had an ace bandage that she wrapped around it for support. Then she did a quick wash up, got dressed, and, hopping on her good foot, she went down the back staircase to the kitchen. In the kitchen she put on coffee and thought about what she needed to do for breakfast. At the moment, she wasn’t feeling like putting in a grand effort.

  But everybody had come to expect a certain level of food. She decided cream scones were fast and easy. She whipped up a batch and tossed them in the oven. She was afraid to sit down because she’d never want to get back up again. At the same time, if a task could be done sitting down, all the better.

  She poured herself a cup of coffee, sitting, her foot on the pillow left from the night before, with the online edition of her local morning paper pulled up on her laptop, and perused the headlines. There was the usual mayhem going on in the world. She hated the crazy politics, the wars, and the whole confusion and backstabbing mess in politics. She shut her laptop and sipped her coffee.

  Hearing a bright whistle coming in behind her, she spoke without looking behind her, “Good morning, Geir.”

  “How did you know it was me?” he asked lightly as he walked toward the counter with the coffeepot, got a cup from the cabinet and poured himself a cup.

  “Your voice is easy to distinguish,” she said with a smile.

  “Interesting. Well, since you already know who I am, and you already recognize my voice, then we’re past being strangers now, aren’t we?”

  She stared at him suspiciously. “We’re not exactly friends either.”

  His eyes widened. “I’m hurt. I thought we were much closer than friends.”

  She shook her head at his teasing tone. “I know guys like you. They dash into town and cause trouble, then disappear just as fast.”

  “As long as we cause fun while we’re in town, and everybody is enjoying life, and nobody gets hurt …”

  “True enough, but I’m not one of those women who’ll be part of your drop-into-town-and-have-fun saga.”

  “Nope, you’re a forever kind of girl.”

  She lifted her coffee cup and stared at him over the rim. “What do you mean by that?”

  “It means, you’re not a one-night-stand kind of girl. When you let somebody into your bed, it’s because it’s something you want long term. It takes a lot for you to trust, and, when you do, you trust deeply.”

  “People would say the opposite about me because I have a bed-and-breakfast. That I’m too trusting to let people into my home. Therefore, I trust easily.”

  He studied her. “I think that’s the business side of you. I think you’re an extrovert and enjoy having people around. But, to let them into your inner world, I think that takes a lot of trust.”

  She could feel heat crawling up her neck. “That’s very astute of you.” She hurriedly stood. As soon as she did, she winced, and he was at her side.

  “Hey, remember? You need to stay off that foot. You’ve done enough just getting from the third floor to the first floor. How is the ankle this morning?”

  “Fine, I just stepped wrong or too fast.” She motioned toward the stove. “I have scones in the oven. I need to take them out.”

  “You sit down. I’ll take care of them.” He grabbed an oven mitt and opened the door. Instantly the smell of cream scones filled the kitchen. He pulled out the cookie sheet and took them to her. “Do they look done to you?”

  She eyed the golden tops with just the barest rim o
f a darker golden color on the base and nodded. “They’re perfect.”

  He put them on top of the stove, closed the oven door and turned the temperature knob to Off. He looked around. “Where are your racks?”

  “In that drawer.”

  He pulled out a rack and placed it on the center island and deftly transferred the scones to it. He put the cookie sheet by the sink and brought the coffeepot to her, filling her cup. “So we didn’t get much of a chance to see each other last evening. How did your evening go?”

  She wanted the small talk. “It was fine. Other than realizing that previous guests had gotten into my father’s rooms when I hadn’t been watching and not being able to paint because I had no natural light and being too unsettled to sit down with a good book—but, otherwise, it was fine.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Somebody was in rooms you don’t allow people in?”

  She shrugged. “My father has the set of rooms below mine. His sitting room, bathroom and bedroom were part of the annex out back. He owns half of this house.”

  “And somebody was in there?” he prompted.

  She shrugged. “Well, kids, at least. I found a stuffed animal on the bed,” she said with a smile. “The trouble was, it wasn’t like it was tossed on the bed—disturbed, as if kids had been climbing all over the place—but more like it had been placed very deliberately atop the covers where the pillows are.”

  “What kind of a stuffed animal?”

  She stared at him, her lips quirked. “A great big gray mouse.” She watched as a stillness came over him.

  He slowly raised his eyes to look at her intently. “A mouse?”

  She nodded. “A mouse with a big silly grin.”

  He raised his hands and put them about a foot apart and said, “A mouse about this size?”

  She frowned, leaning forward. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “A mouse with shiny eyes and a big goofy grin?”

  She nodded slowly. “Is it yours?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Would you mind showing it to me please?”

  She shrugged. “I put it in the hall closet, and then I locked the door to my father’s rooms.”