In This Life

by Terri Herman-Poncé

  “And how he got access,” David added.

  “Well,” Lori said, “he knows you from somewhere, obviously. People don’t do things like this unless there’s a reason. Or a connection.”

  “Crap.” Nat wiped his hands with a napkin and dropped it onto his empty plate. “I almost forgot. I shipped the envelope and hair off to our buddies in forensics this morning. Put a rush on it, too.”

  “Good.” David dug into his meal. “Maybe that’ll start giving us what we need.”

  “It’s still going to take some time to get results,” Nat said. “But at least we’ve got it moving.”

  The doorbell rang as David scooped up another forkful. He looked at me and hesitated. “You expecting anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Neither am I.”

  He went to the foyer and the front door, and another man’s voice answered David’s. David returned with a large bouquet of unusual, light blue flowers nestled in a clear vase and tied with a white bow.

  “They’re for you.”

  David set the bouquet on the coffee table in front of me and stared at it, hands on hips.

  “Oh wow. They’re beautiful!” I leaned in and inhaled, and found them as fragrant as they were striking. Warm and sweet and earthy. “Thank you, David. These are so lovely.”

  “They’re not from me.”

  I looked up at David, a little too quickly, and for a moment felt woozy. David tugged off the card and read out loud what had been written.

  I was very worried when I heard you went to the hospital. But you should be more careful next time. Next time, someone might not be there to help you.

  He checked for a signature and didn’t find one. “No name. No nothing.”

  “Except for this,” Nat said.

  He reached into the flowers and pulled out more strands of my hair.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I’m calling the police.”

  Before I could pick up the phone, David had my hand. “Think this through, first.”

  “What’s to think about?” I tugged away from him, filled with a sudden, compelling urge to smell the flowers again. I should have felt revolted by them but they had captured and held my attention and I couldn’t let go. They seemed familiar and I wanted to remember from where.

  Nat stood up and joined us. “David’s right about this.” He took me by the shoulders and I pulled away from him, too. “The cops are going to fire questions at you, and you need to be prepared to answer them, Lottie.”

  “So let them ask questions,” I said. “Isn’t that the point?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Why not?” I sank into the sofa and toyed with the delightful, blue and white blooms. In a deeper part of my mind, I remembered wearing them in my hair, and seeing them strewn across blue and green and yellow tiled floors and festively ribboned over massive granite columns.

  And I remembered them floating in a cup of red wine.

  “We’re not trying to belittle you,” David said. “And we’re not trying to tell you what to do. It’s just that — “ He pushed the flowers away from me. “Are you even listening?”

  “Of course I am.”

  But I couldn’t break away from the bouquet. I pulled out one single stem and held it to my nose. Something about the scent made me breathless and aroused.

  “What’s with you?” David asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “These smell wonderful. Want to try?”

  I held the bloom to David’s nose but he pulled away. “Have you been hitting the wine or my mother’s brownies again?”

  “Oh come on, David.”

  “Those flowers may be beautiful, Lottie,” Lori said, “but they’re creepy. And they need attention.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe a little water.”

  “I meant that they need the police’s attention.” The three of us turned to find Lori holding up her cell phone. “I called my uncle’s precinct and a car’s on its way.”

  “Why?” Nat asked.

  Lori looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “We need professionals to handle this situation.”

  “We are professionals.”

  “Police,” she reminded him. “We need the police.”

  “They’re going to do jack,” Nat fired back.

  “Maybe, maybe not, but what happened should be on record.” Lori picked up a couple of dishes and handed them to Nat. “So get over it and start cleaning up.”

  Nat’s face reddened but he took the dishes and headed into the kitchen. David hesitated but followed Nat’s lead, cleaning up what remained. I smiled as I watched them both load the dishwasher, recognizing that although she wasn’t the aggressive type, Lori had managed to pull David’s and Nat’s need for control right out from under them. When they were out of earshot she leaned to whisper in my ear.

  “They’re pretty ticked at me right now.”

  “I know,” I said. “And I love it.” I twirled the fine, pointed petals against my nose, and Lori hovered a little longer.

  “What’s the deal with you and those flowers, anyway?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” I inhaled the bloom and sighed. “They just smell really good.” I offered the flower to Lori but she shook her head, too.

  “You don’t know where they came from,” she said. “Don’t you think the way you’re handling them is a little weird?”

  “They just seem familiar to me,” I told her. “And I’m trying to remember from where.”

  Lori grinned. “An old boyfriend?”

  I grinned back. “Maybe.”

  “Who?”

  I kept twirling the petals, thinking.

  Lori leaned in closer. “Come on, Lottie. Who?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” I whispered, “but the memory’s a hot one.”

  With mischief in her eyes, Lori glanced at David storing leftovers in the freezer. “I’m guessing it’s not him.”

  I shook my head and laughed.

  When the doorbell rang, I slipped the bloom back into the vase. David greeted the police and ushered them inside. Officer Jim McKarren, Lori’s uncle, strode in first. He was a fit man in his late forties with a wide forehead, brown hair, and eyes as blue as the flowers. A blonde officer who looked twenty years his junior followed. His brass tag read Llewellyn.

  “I understand there’s been a situation?” Jim looked to Lori for direction and Lori gestured toward me.

  “Yes,” I said.

  David shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and leaned against the counter that separated the kitchen from the den, shoulders squared and eyes alert.

  Jim McKarren sent him a cursory glance and bypassed him in favor of one of the leather chairs near me, taking a quick visual inventory of the den. I wondered if his appraisal came from personal curiosity to see what had changed since his visit last year or from professional training to find something out of place. His eyes never went to the flowers. Llewellyn remained near the fireplace and I had a swift and vivid image of a soldier standing sentry, prepared to defend. Or attack.

  “Tell me what happened,” Jim said. “Lori claimed that someone was being threatened.”

  I pointed to the flowers and showed him the card and my hair. “These arrived about a half hour ago, and I don’t know who sent them to me.”

  Jim studied each item for a few minutes and then studied me. “And?”

  “The card isn’t signed.”

  “And?”

  I remembered the last time Jim and I had a conversation. That one had been short and interrogatory, too.

  “And the people who knew I was in the hospital last night didn’t send me these flowers,” I said. “Someone else did.”

  “And that makes this delivery a threat?”

  “It’s not just the delivery,” I told Jim. “It’s the fact that there’s no name on the card and my hair is in the bouquet.”

  “Did you smell the bouquet after it was delivered?”

  “Yes.”
<
br />   “So maybe your hair got stuck there all on its own.”

  Jim looked at Llewellyn. Though neither showed any emotion during their silent exchange, I knew what Jim was thinking and my heart sank. When David’s eyes sought out mine, I understood the corner I’d trapped myself in. I could have told Jim that something similar had happened once already, but then I’d have to tell him everything else. And then I’d have to explain that David was using PROs resources to examine my hair and our phone records and the envelope, and if I did that then the precinct would notify PROs and David’s job would be at risk.

  Jim turned back to me. “What are you not telling me, Lottie?”

  I kept my gaze steady with his. “Nothing. You know everything.”

  Jim fed me his silence and I recognized the prompt for what it was — an enticement to get me to fill it. It was a powerful motivator and one I used often with clients.

  “I just feel like someone’s after me and I don’t like the feeling,” I admitted, and it was the first completely truthful thing I’d said since they arrived. Frustrated, I got up, went to the slider and looked outside once more, searching for anything that would take my mind off my screw-up. The rose bushes, I noticed, needed pruning.

  David’s voice cut in. “I’m sorry, Jim. Lottie’s been having a difficult time with one of her clients and I think she’s feeling vulnerable lately because of it. I suspect that’s one of the reasons why Lori called you here.”

  The explanation seemed to pacify Jim. He stood up and motioned to Llewellyn. “The best thing I can do is investigate the delivery and try to get a name. Other than that,” he said, “there’s not much else I can do for you.”

  I told McKarren that I was grateful for their time and Lori gave her uncle a hug. David walked both officers to the front door where the conversation continued a little longer. Lori dropped a kiss on my cheek and offered an “I’m sorry, sweetie” before heading back into the kitchen. I heard the television click on and a baseball game tune in, and through the slider’s reflection I watched Nat sit on the sofa and prop his feet on the coffee table next to the flowers. Again, their unique beauty and color drew me in, as I knew I had been drawn to them before.

  I felt skilled hands powder me with gold dust and slip a new gold and linen sheath over my body. The hands placed a collar made of gold tubes laced with amethyst and carnelian around my neck, and a braided wig threaded with gold on my head.

  “Does it meet with your pleasure?” my servant asked, handing me a mirror.

  I did not need the mirror to know that it did, and I nodded my approval.

  With one final adjustment to my wig, she urged me to my feet, out into the royal courtyard and to the Great Hall. Trumpets blared, heralding my arrival and my heart soared as I entered the celebration. Garlands made of lilies and lotus hung from the ceilings and wrapped around each sculpted column. Flower petals of blue and green and yellow adorned each table as well as the reed mats beside them. Servant girls tied floral collars of chamomile and green leaf on guests, and empty wine jugs spilled over with blue and white lotus. Women poured wine spiced with cinnamon into cups and others served trays filled with dried fish, figs and dates, thick loaves of bread, and seasoned beef. People ate and drank, women danced and shook sistrums, and music played long into a night that promised future success and eternal happiness.

  After a time, in need of fresh air, I excused myself from my table. Although the night was warm it was not uncomfortable and, for once, a cooling breeze blew through. At the edge of the granite balcony, I closed my eyes and relaxed under the gentle wind, allowing the effects of the wine to quiet my senses. I sensed someone move in from behind.

  “It is a magnificent night, is it not?”

  I did not need to look to know who had joined me. His voice warmed my blood as much as the wine did.

  “It is,” I said to him.

  He nudged my arm and when I opened my eyes he held up two cups of wine, offering me one.

  I hesitated. My heart belonged to another man and yet here we stood, alone beneath a dark, moonlit night.

  “It is from my vineyard,” he said in an attempt to sway my decision.

  He offered the cup again and moved in beside me. The wine looked as rich and red as the darkest pomegranate, with three blue lotus petals floating on top. I took the cup but did not drink.

  Much to his credit, he did not try to sway me again. “What a remarkable view,” he said, taking a sip and then one more. “Everything seems to glow with moonlight. Even the river glitters beneath the stars, as if it is filled with shining jewels.”

  I nodded but it seemed all I could do. I was having a hard time focusing on the view, the wine, even the night itself. His voice stole every thought from my head and had command over every reaction in my body. But he was not mine. And I could not stay with him here. Alone.

  I moved away, needing space. This, whatever this was, felt dangerous and wrong.

  He glanced my way, the trace of a grin playing on his lips, the darkness in his eyes drawing me into a place I had never been before. A place that harbored secrets and promised danger.

  A place I had to avoid.

  I felt a kiss on my cheek and heard a woman’s voice once more. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  The den slipped back into view, and the scent of cinnamon wine and fragrant flowers was replaced with robust marinara and spicy oregano. The sounds of song and dance turned into Nat’s cheers for the baseball game.

  And the dark, beckoning eyes that had aroused and tantalized faded away.

  Lori was standing beside me. “Maybe I’ll bring dinner again, too. Might as well take advantage while my mother handles the boys for the weekend.”

  Nat remoted off the television and stood. “And I’ll check into the florists because I know the cops will get squat on this.”

  David returned to the den, alone. “Great idea.”

  Nat and Lori said their goodbyes and promised to swing by tomorrow, and David finished cleaning up. I stayed by the slider, watching the sun begin to dip in a purpling sky. Water turned on and turned off, plates rattled and the refrigerator pulled open and sealed shut.

  A short while later David wrapped his arms around me, his heart beating in time with mine. “You okay?” he asked, dropping a kiss on top of my head.

  “Yeah.” The evening’s first few stars sparkled in the purpling sky. “You were right about me not being ready to talk to the police. I could have handled that better.”

  I stared into David’s eyes. They weren’t the dark, secretive eyes I had remembered moments before.

  “You look like you need rest,” he said. “Maybe you should go upstairs to bed.”

  I hesitated, wanting to tell him about what I’d seen but I wasn’t sure how to put into words what I didn’t understand myself. I nodded, kissed him and headed for the foyer and the stairs.

  Halfway to the second floor, I sensed David following me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  We reached the landing and turned down the hall. “I’m going to rest with you.”

  I stopped him with a hand to his chest, just outside the double doors to our bedroom. “So we’re clear here, my definition of rest is not doing anything. Just lying in bed. Maybe even falling asleep.”

  “No problem,” David said, maneuvering me past the threshold. “You can do all those things. As long as you promise to fall asleep afterward and not during.”

  “And what if I say no?”

  David stopped. “Are you?”

  I rolled my eyes, sighed out loud and grabbed his hand, leading him further inside. “I’m such a cheap date.”

  “I wouldn’t quite put it in those words,” David said, closing the doors behind us. “But it’s one of the things I love most about you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  By the time Monday arrived, I was ready to go back to work.

  As much as I loved being home with David, I needed to return to some kind of normal
life — one that involved getting out of the house and behaving like any other person who had bills to pay and food to put on the table. But the term normal, at least right now, came with a big caveat. My handbag, phone, and Jeep had been outfitted with a tracking device, courtesy of Nat. My home security system had been beefed up, courtesy of the central monitoring station. And all questionable external contact, snail mail and phone calls and e-mail included, was going to get the once-over by David. As I fastened my dress and slipped on a pair of sandals, I wondered how long it would take before a watch party would be posted outside my bathroom door, too.

  Under other circumstances, the visual would have been funny. I knew David and Nat were doing what they thought was necessary but the idea of having my every move under scrutiny grated on me. I didn’t do well with supervision of any type.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and sighed, trying to convince myself to get over it because this was important, and for good reason. I hadn’t heard back from Jim McKarren yet, but Nat researched flower deliveries into the area and didn’t find any that were addressed to my home or me. On top of that, he’d discovered that the flowers — blue lotus, he’d called them — carried a mild psychoactive property that could elicit tranquility in the user, and even heightened mental states or sexual performance when blended as a tea or mixed with wine. Once David heard that, the flowers ended up in the garbage.

  While the information made David suspicious, it intrigued me, though in a tentative way. In David’s mind, everything that had happened since Friday morning was more than just coincidence. And I agreed but with one major difference. I now knew that my episodes were no longer something clinical but something very personal instead. But the bigger question was why everything I kept seeing and feeling seemed to stem from memories that I’d never experienced before in my life.

  That’s when I made a firm decision to speak to Paul once I got to the office. I scanned my cell phone and discovered that I had a fully booked day including an initial consultation with Galen at nine-thirty. I had thirty minutes blocked out with him, and hoped it would be enough to give David the preliminary evaluation he wanted. Somewhere in between I’d have to figure out how to fit Paul in. And I needed to connect with Mrs. Reynolds, too. I considered phoning her from the office on my lunch hour but realized that caller ID could be an issue if she was truly avoiding me. That also meant my cell phone wasn’t an option either, and for the very same reason.