“How about Dale’s?” At my blank look he grinned. “I’ll come by your place and get you, no trouble. Believe me, you’ll like the place.”
I gave in, not willing to fight over it. That was always my problem. I had no fight in me. He sat there with me until I finished eating, chatting away about anything and everything while he drank an unending supply of coffee. That was probably what gave him the ability to keep going, I suppose. I tried to keep track of what he was saying but mostly just made the right sounds, my momentary good-will crumbling as my mind caught up to the reality of what I’d done.
A date. Two weeks away from Morgan, and already I was putting myself back into these situations.
Chapter Four
The hero of the made-for-television movie was just about ready to save the day when sirens startled me from my half-doze in what would eventually be the living room. I started to climb out of my little nest of blankets on the floor then stopped, instinct warring with my concern for Lillian and Joe.
The sound raised the same conflict inside me as always. I could help, and maybe that would save a life, but it would doom my own. Times like these I hated myself and my birthright.
I forced myself to sit back down on the floor after it went past Joe and Lillian's. At least they were safe. The hero of the movie was getting his happy reward and I tried to concentrate on that and keep my thoughts away from the sound outside, but it was a losing battle.
The ambulance stopped a very short distance past my place. I refused to check where. It was maybe half an hour later that I heard a knock at the veranda door. I took a peek through the window of my door before heading out, knowing I was spotted and that it’d be better to not draw any more attention than I already had.
Two cops were waiting outside, and by the looks on their faces it wasn’t for something good. All of the veranda’s blinds had been drawn, but behind them I could see flashing lights from several cars waiting at the end of the road.
“Mr. Garder?” The stern-faced woman asked as soon as I opened the door. I focused on her, trying to hide how nervous I felt.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I’m Officer Louise Ellis, and this is Officer Phillip Pauls. We’d like to ask you some questions.”
I stepped back, pulse quickening. “I’d be happy to answer,” I lied, wondering if they could hear the lie in my voice. They stepped into the veranda but didn’t ask to come in any further. It was a relief. I should have invited them in, but I could barely handle having them where they were. There was nowhere to sit, so we stood.
“Did you notice anything suspicious happening tonight—or even anyone driving by in the last few hours?”
“No,” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been watching television and my windows are closed up for the night.”
They could tell I was nervous, but after a few more questions nodded and bid me a good night, asking that I contact them if I thought of anything. I lied again, assuring them I would, then locked up tightly behind them. I wondered if they would have any more luck at the Briggs’ place. Whatever it was about had to be something to do with the ambulance, but I kept my blinds tightly shut and refused to look outside, determined not to learn anything if I could help it.
The less you knew the less trouble you could get into.
One of Gramp’s many strict rules was that we were to never involve the police in our personal matters. Breaking that rule was, like most others of our kind, punishable by death. The shadowed government always knew when you broke those rules, and their response was a swift strike from the shadows. Gramp had taken great pains to teach my brother and me those rules. As far back as my memory reached, so did his warnings.
****
I spent most of the afternoon Friday sitting on my front step with Lillian while Joe ran the inn. She claimed that she just wanted to see how I was settling in, but I had a feeling that she was really just curious about how I was making do without any furniture. Twice now she had tried to convince me to go over and get her husband to help carry an old couch of theirs over. I half-feared I’d go out one day and come home to find it sitting in my dooryard.
“Did you hear about poor Eve?” she asked, squinting against the sunlight.
“No,” I answered, wondering if it had anything to do with the cops the night before.
“Poor dear. Five months pregnant, and hit by a car last night. Hit-and-run, terrible business. Lost her and the baby both.”
I felt sick. Would I have been able to help, I wondered, or had she been gone by the time the ambulance arrived? While I wanted to believe that there was good in people, times like these fed my belief that there was darkness inside of everyone. I clung to the memory of the bits of light I sometimes felt when I touched others, and couldn’t stop from reaching over to tentatively place my hand on Lillian’s arm.
She took it as comfort, closing her old fingers over my own longer ones. The warm rush of her gratitude and affection overshadowed the ache of her sorrow, easing my anxiety.
“That’s horrible,” I told her, squeezing her fingers and wishing I could take her pain away. “I’m sorry.”
“Her family is taking it hard, poor things. It hit us all hard. She’s just a little younger than my Robert out in Calgary. They had a bit of a romance when they were in school.”
We sat quietly for a moment, and then she patted my hand and turned to face me, her emotions shifting into resolute determination. “You need to get out, young man,” she told me firmly. “My niece Carole has a diner in town. You should go there, get some company closer to your own age.”
I bit back a laugh. “I went there the other day, actually,” I told her. “Carole is nice. I’ll try to go again soon.” I hesitated, then added. “Lane—” I floundered, realizing I didn’t know his last name. “Well, I’m meeting him later.”
Why I said it I have no idea. I cringed inside, shocked with myself, but the only reaction I felt from her was an amused trace of surprise overtop her steady sadness. “He’s a good lad,” she assured me. “Lane Hunter. His parents, Joan and Gregory, are good people. Don’t let him get too excited, though, or he’ll talk your ear off.”
A good lad. I doubted anyone would have ever said that about Morgan, had there been anyone I dared to ask. I fluctuated between excitement and dread the closer I came to the “date”. My main method of dealing was to avoid thinking about it. That would work great, too, right up until Lane showed up at my door.
We moved on to other topics, Lillian telling me more about the neighborhood children and her son, Robert, who was out west. I brought us out some frozen cookies, and she nibbled on hers, always assuring me she loved them.
I wasn’t much of a cook, but Morgan had taught me to make those. They were easy enough that even I couldn’t mess them up. Morgan had been an amazing cook, able to throw anything into a pot or a pan and make it taste wonderful. While I couldn’t look back at any point in our relationship and say that I’d loved him, I’d really enjoyed watching him in the kitchen.
Lillian left a few hours later, claiming her flower garden wouldn’t plant itself. I sat there in the sun for a while longer, thinking about my move and what I’d do now that I was there. I needed to get some planking from the construction store soon and redo the front steps. It would be nice to plant some more trees in the back yard, too, and give it more privacy.
There were no laws against living in communities without magic, but that was probably only because there were very few ways to find out who was a member of our kind. Unless you were energy sensitive, that is, but if you happened to be one of those rare throwbacks then you likely already filled the ranks of our invisible governing body.
A man turned the corner a short distance down the road, and when he waved I raised my hand in return. I watched his progress as he closed the distance along the road. As he walked past he commented on the beautiful day, and I nodded. “It’s about time,” I responded.
Weather was the great equalizer in all
societies. Everyone felt it, cursed its callousness, praised its kindness, and used its existence as a staple conversation starter. Mother Nature had been kind to us lately and just about every person I ran in to expressed pleasure in her unexpectedly early spring gift.
Taking one last breath of the warm outdoor air, I headed inside to grab my laptop and join Olive on the veranda. It felt nice to sit there, under the comforting chimes of Lillian and Joe’s gift, and tap away.
****
Lane, true to his word, showed up at my door around ten to seven. I’d gone back and forth between nervous excitement and pure dread all day, finally settling on dread as the date came closer and closer. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then forced myself to stand and answer the door.
There was a dusting of sawdust over Lane’s shoulders, but his hair was gelled back and the shirt beneath his coat was neatly pressed. He was handsome and I should have wanted to drag him in and see about undoing his work, but instead I just wanted to close the door on him and hide on my air mattress.
“Ready for some fun?” He was grinning, but there were bags under his eyes. I wondered if he’d known the young woman killed the night before, or if he was regretting this as much as I was.
“I am,” I lied, grabbing my jacket and stepping outside before he could slip past me. Olive was fed and should be fine for the evening.
He was driving a large truck complete with the stereotypical lift-kit, and I had to almost jump to get into the monster, hauling myself up with the door. Times like that I hated being short, not that I was that short, at 5’6”, but people like Lane just made it seem … less. The mess of black curls covering my head added a little height, but not enough.
“I noticed your furniture still hasn’t gotten in,” he commented as he pulled out of the driveway.
“Not yet. I got a call saying it should get here by the end of the week, so not long now.”
“I bet that’ll be nice. How are the Briggses treating you?”
“They’re great.”
“Wait ‘til later this summer. When their raspberries take off Lillian makes amazing pies. I always invite myself over around that time of year.”
I chuckled, able to imagine him doing just that, and wondered if that was how she knew his excitability. I’d only met him the once before, but already I could see a bit of the stray pup about him. It was probably hard for anyone to not take him home and try to fatten him up, and Lillian would eat that right up.
I expected him to steer us towards town, but instead he took a back road, and as our conversation died away I felt uneasy. Hopping out of the moving mammoth and taking my chances landing was starting to feel like the best odds for me when a well-lit building finally appeared around a bend in the woods. There was a second where I felt relief, but that didn’t last.
We were going to a bar. Of course, we were. Where else was he likely to take me on a date? With this knowledge came the uncomfortable certainty that there was no way a town this small had a gay bar.
I eyed the sprawling cabin-styled building uneasily after we parked, scrounging for a way to get out of this and coming up blank. “I didn’t think you had cabs here,” I managed.
Lane grinned at me, his pearly teeth flashing orange in the garish light of the parking lot. “I won’t touch a drink, promise.”
So much for that try.
I felt a bit more relaxed once we were inside. High-backed booths lined the walls, and there was very little room for a dance floor, other than by the twin pool tables at the far corner. It was more pub than bar, and that I could handle, although there were still memories stirring at the back of my mind that I’d rather forget. Morgan loved dance clubs, and I’d hated every minute in them, the flashing lights inducing migraines and the music too loud for me to hear myself think. There was music playing here, and it was loud, but the bass was reasonable and the lighting here was dark and comfortable.
Morgan had often found a back room with his cronies as evenings edged into night, and nothing good ever happened there.
Lane led the way to a table near the back, waving and nodding to several people who greeted us along the way. He certainly knew how to make a spectacle of himself, I thought unkindly, already miserable. There was a menu sitting at the table, and he pushed it my way when we sat.
“I have it memorized, believe me,” he chuckled. “The chips are great. Home-made.”
I tried to drudge up a smile before skimming over the menu in an uncomfortable rush. Standard pub fare, from the look of it. I ordered wings and a beer, not really wanting to drink but also not wanting to turn down his insistence that I go ahead. I already felt like I stood out enough, and not drinking at a pub would likely irreversibly tip the notice-me scale. He at least had an excuse, as the driver.
Our food came quickly, and it was as good as promised. Lane pushed his bowl of chips my way, and I snagged one, reciprocating with my wings. As he’d said, the chips were good. If I ever had to come here again, I decided, I’d have to order them.
“I doubt Lillian and Joe have said much about things,” Lane told me, leaning over the table. I could just hear him over the music, “but there are three main families you should know about here—well, four if you count mine.” I darted a glance around us, shocked by his daring, but nobody was close enough to hear over the speakers. I forced myself to unclench. “We all have some connections here and there,” he continued, not seeming to notice that he’d thrown me, “but that can’t be avoided. Who doesn’t?”
Me, actually, but I wasn’t about to advertise that. He spoke vaguely enough that he wasn’t really breaking any rules, exactly, but the words still sent my heart hammering.
“Anyway,” he went on, “these are the big players here.”
I listened, not sure if I would rather the handsome fool stop or continue. Being handed a list of local mages of import would only benefit me. Their names would give me an idea of who to avoid, as I had very little interest in being drawn into any new communities. My own had died with my brother, and the one Morgan had dragged me into was a nightmare I would never relive.
“Avery Lakewell is the head of his family, and he’s a pretty decent guy. The mayor here, too. My brother Corey has been chasing his niece, Eve, since high school. They even dated for a while, not too long ago, but … the two of them could never get along for long. They always had a weird rivalry…” He trailed off, blinked, and I was startled to see a dampness in his eyes. “She’s the one who was killed down the road from your place,” he explained, when he saw I noticed. “Hit-and-run.”
“I’m sorry,” I told him. Images of Gramp and Geoff, dead and left for me to find, flashed through my mind and I forced them back. I felt myself softening towards him, his obvious sorrow eating through the nervous wall of distance I’d tried to hold between us.
He gave me a little nod, then swallowed hard and continued. “The Briggs family you already met. Well, the family heads. They’re really well liked around town, us and the rest alike.”
Briggs. I started. “You mean Joe and Lillian? My neighbors?” The sweet couple had seemed so down-to-earth. It was hard to imagine they were one of the main families of the area. “They are—” I couldn’t bring myself to say anything incriminating in public, but Lane nodded, following my meaning.
“Yeah,” he assured me. “Great people. Joe is the head of their family. They’re probably one of the most well-connected groups in our area outside the Lakewells.”
They had both been so welcoming and gone so far out of their way to make me feel welcome that I’d assumed them to be lower-tier mages. Finding out otherwise was a shock. “Their son Robert lives out west now. He’s going to school out there, but we see him around here at holidays. He has to keep up appearances. Still, word is he told Carole—she’s his cousin—that he won’t be coming home to stay when he finishes. Found a new community out there, I guess.”
“There are always communities out there,” I agreed politely, fighting the urge to
huddle into myself. I knew that well firsthand, and the memory sent my flesh prickling as if someone walked over my grave. “You just have to be careful. People aren’t always safe.” And communities that were welcoming usually had ulterior motives.
He peered at me for a moment, head tilted and a curious expression on his face. “Is that where your family is?”
Another question I had to get used to here. Ties were your cornerstone in our world, and it was natural to be curious about others’ connections, but having those questions asked so openly was alien to me. Gramp taught us to cling to our privacy, claiming it was all that was between us and possible death. Here, privacy seemed a forgotten notion.
“I grew up with my grandfather and brother. They’ve both passed.”
Lane made a sympathetic sound, and probably even meant it. He was shockingly kind. “That must have been tough. I’m sorry.”
I smiled wryly. “I am, too.” I wondered at my honesty, and even more at his kind acceptance of it. As much as being near him made me nervous, that other, weaker, part of me couldn’t stop reaching towards his draw. He made me want to relax my guard and answer him without second-guessing every word that passed my lips. That? That was frightening in a way nor even Morgan managed.
I’d been so alone, and Morgan had been a way to not be. This new danger, Lane’s handsome smile and welcoming manner, made me ache for more than I had any right to want.
Everyone was so connected here, in ways both good and bad. From Lane’s description the town was one large community, more confusing and vast than I’d ever expected in such a small town. Out west I could have easily died and not been missed. Here people were so real, their existence palpable.
What must it have been like to grow up with so many people around you? I couldn’t imagine. Most of my fears, first as a child and later as an adult, stemmed from being alone in the world.
It wasn’t long after Gramp had passed, a few months at most, when I’d gone to a pub like this and ended up losing my brother Geoff. We’d driven in to town and stopped so he could grab a drink before going back to the house. I was driving, so he took the chance to play the room and make a fool of himself. Par for the course with him, but I’d loved him and given in easily.
Upon the River Shore Page 4
