“Yes. But probably not for the reason you think.”
She held up a hand like a crossing guard. “I don’t think anything, Bodhi. We’re adults—and middle-aged adults, at that. You have a past. I have a past. Whatever happened with you and Eliza Rollins happened at least a decade before we met. It doesn’t matter, and it has nothing to do with us.”
The way his breath caught in his throat made him think otherwise. He scratched his jaw. “I think it does have something to do with us. I didn’t treat Eliza very well at the end of our relationship. I regret my behavior, and it’s one of the reasons I was single for a dozen years. Until I met you—which was right after I ran into Eliza in Quebec City. My relationship with her is in the past, but its echoes are reverberating in the present.”
Bette’s expression shuttered. “I’m serious. I’m not interested in what happened when you were a medical student. People change, people grow. It’s not anything I want to know about or care about. Clearly, when you saw each other in Canada, you reached some sort of understanding. Truthfully, I’m just glad you’ll have another weirdo to hang out with while you’re poking around the insides of a dead body for fun.”
He managed a genuine laugh despite himself. He wasn’t sure he agreed with her that leaving the past in the past was wise—or feasible, but he couldn’t force her to care about it, and she was obviously changing the subject.
She must’ve seen his reluctance to let it go. “Heck, Bodhi. You’re not the only one with a past. You don’t think I have an old flame or seven running around this place?” She waved her hand toward the thinning crowd.
He made a show of scanning the assembled police chiefs as if searching for her former paramours.
When she stopped chuckling, he tilted his head toward the exit. “Ready to get out of here?”
“Absolutely.”
They slipped out through a side door and into the lobby. When they reached the staircase, he put a hand on her back. “I have an idea. Why don’t you go up to the room and grab our coats? I’ll slip back inside and get two more drinks—if you’re up for a nightcap, that is.”
Her habit at home was to have one drink—and only one—in the evening, but she sometimes loosened her rules on holidays and vacations.
She nodded. “I’d say this weekend rates a second vodka tonic. Ask the bartender to use a light hand, though. Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. It’d be a shame if you missed out on your stars just because we’re not in Illinois.”
Bette’s grin was bright enough to light up the night sky, stars or no stars.
She kissed him and dashed inside while he headed back to the bar to get her drink. Given the morning he had ahead of him, he opted for a club soda. He met her at the wide front doors and she handed him his coat. He slipped it on and waited while she bundled into her coat. Then he handed her the drink, and they walked out onto the front porch, down the stone stairs, and out onto a cobblestone pathway.
He led her through the darkness toward the trail he’d hiked earlier to reach the garden. The mouth to the path was illuminated by small lights staked in the ground on either side. “I saw this great gazebo this afternoon. I think it’ll do the trick. It’s a clear night, and there’s almost no light pollution out here.”
They reached the small shelter perched on the edge of an overlook, and she exhaled, “Oh, it’s perfect.”
They settled onto a glider and tipped their heads back, opening their lungs to the crisp night air and their hearts to the bright celestial show above. She whispered the names of constellations as she saw them form before her eyes. He listened to the sounds of nocturnal creatures skittering across dried leaves, the wind whispering through the branches, and the distant burble of a stream or creek.
After a while, he broke the companionable silence. “I know you don’t want to hear about this, but I need to tell you: Eliza and I were in a serious relationship during medical school and—"
“I’ve told you I don’t care.”
“I know, and I believe you. But I have to be honest with you, even when that honesty isn’t necessarily the kindest or most desired gift.”
A shadow of discomfort passed over her face like a cloud. “Okay. Say what you need to.”
He rested his elbows on his thighs and interlocked his hands. “We had just found out where we’d matched for our residencies. I was staying at Pitt. She was headed to Texas. She wanted to stay together, have a long-distance relationship. I . . . didn’t. I said that I was on a solitary journey. I hid behind right action, the prohibition against sexual misconduct.”
She shook her head. “But Buddhism doesn’t prohibit relationships. Obviously.”
“Right. I was trying to make sense of a lot of competing feelings. I wanted to focus on my residency. I wanted her to do the same. I didn’t see a way to do that and to give our relationship the emotional energy it would require, at least not in a way that I wouldn’t deem misconduct.”
He shook his head. His thought process had been so clear, so logical, all those years ago. Tonight, it just sounded lame, like an excuse.
“Shouldn’t she have been the person to decide what level of emotional energy you owed her? Or, at least, it should have been a joint decision.”
Her voice was sad. Not judgmental, not shocked. But sad.
“It should have. And I realized that—belatedly. That’s why I didn’t get involved with anyone else. Until I met you.”
Her green eyes pierced his. Even in the dim light, he could see the intensity burning behind them. “Did you get involved with me as a reaction to seeing her in Canada?”
He took a long time to answer. So long that he heard her sharp intake of breath and saw her dig her fingernails into her palms. She was steeling herself for an ugly answer.
“No.”
She stared down at her hands.
“Bette, no,” he repeated. “Seeing Eliza filled me with shame, especially once I understood how much pain my behavior had caused her. I made amends. She forgave me—or said she did, at least. She told me about Fred. Their relationship was still new. I saw how she was able to commit to her work and to maintain a real bond with him. It made me question the stories I’d been telling myself for over a decade. It made me realize that connection didn’t have to mean attachment in a negative sense.”
She looked up at him and swallowed. “Go on.”
“That’s why I went to Onatah in the first place, for a silent retreat to meditate on all these thoughts. I wasn’t looking for a rebound relationship. I wasn’t looking for any relationship. I was looking for a quiet place to untangle my brain.”
“And, instead, you found a murder victim.”
“Yes, and that led me to you.”
“The nearest female.”
“No, it’s not like that. I didn’t get involved with you because you were handy. I think . . .”
“What, Bodhi? What do you think?”
He wrestled with how to express his feelings clearly. He needed to get this right.
“I think you have it backward. I didn’t find you because I was ready for a romantic encounter. I was ready for a romantic encounter because I found you.”
She looked at him for a long time before blinking and turning her gaze back to the night sky.
After a long moment, he did the same. He was looking up at the bright star cluster that formed Cassiopeia when Bette’s warm fingers grazed his. She slipped her hand into his, and he wrapped his fingers around hers.
10
Eliza bent over the sink basin, splashing water on her face. She reached out blindly, waving her hand around, hoping to connect with a face towel. One was placed in her hand.
She patted her face dry and met Fred’s reflection in the mirror.
“Thanks.”
“Sure.”
She could tell from the creases around his mouth and the tension in his neck that he was troubled.
“What is it?”
“What’s what?”
“You’re worried about something, spill it.”
He leaned against the door frame and tilted his head. “You, ’Liza. I’m worried about you.”
She exhaled softly. “Because of Bodhi?” She should’ve realized Fred would be concerned about her reaction to seeing him.
“Well, yeah. Are you okay?”
She shrugged. “I was surprised to see him down there. But, you know, Bodhi and I … that was a long time ago.”
“True, but I also know it took a long time for your wounds to heal. It’s to be expected if running into him rattled you.”
She reached up and unwound the elastic band holding her hair in place. She shook her hair down around her shoulders, then smiled.
“Two things. One, I just did this a few years ago. Running into him in Quebec City, that shook me up. It had been thirteen years, after all. This was less of a shock. And two, a certain police chief helped me speed along the healing process. My wounds are scarred over, nothing but a distant memory.”
The corners of his mouth turned up, but he was not to be dissuaded from the conversation. “I’m serious. I didn’t bring you here for a weekend of sleepless nights and panic attacks. This is supposed to be a romantic getaway.”
She arched a brow.
“I mean to the extent the parish police chief and coroner can enjoy a romantic getaway.”
She joined him in the doorway and looped her arm through his.
“Come on, let’s have this conversation someplace more comfortable than in the doorway to the bathroom.”
They curled up on the small loveseat across from the bed. She nestled into his side, and he stroked her hair.
“Comfy now?” he asked as she rested her head against his chest.
“I am. Anyway, this will be a romantic getaway, but the fact is you have sessions during the day. So actually, it’ll be nice to have a friendly face in the sea of spouses and plus-ones.”
“Is he?”
“Is he what?”
“A friendly face.”
She took her time answering. “Bodhi and I made our peace in Canada. And he did save my life. So yeah, I’d say we’re friends.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. You aren’t worried that I still have feelings for him, are you?” Her cheeks heated. She felt like a thirteen-year-old girl asking the question. Besides, Fred wasn’t exactly the jealous type.
He lifted her chin with his finger. “I hope to heck you don’t have feelings for him because I’m wild about you, woman. But that’s not what’s worrying me. I’m concerned that working with Bodhi is going to be a strain on you. Stressful.”
She heard the words he didn’t say: You’ve come so far. Why risk the anxiety that might provoke a panic attack?
“I understand why you’re worried, but, really, I’m fine. I can’t pass up an opportunity like this one.”
“Leave it to you to be all pumped up to spend the day looking at a moldy old body.”
“Do you understand what it would mean if that body really is one hundred and fifty years old?” Her voice quavered as a jolt of excitement zipped through her like an electric charge.
“Honestly? Not really. I mean, I know it’s very rare and all.”
She drew a deep breath, but he cut her off before she could launch into a lengthy explanation.
“Do you want to play cards or something before bed?”
“Cards? I thought this was supposed to be a romantic getaway.” She raised her eyebrows.
“I did say or something.”
“Fair point.”
She reached for his hand. They crossed the room to the giant canopied bed. Just before they tumbled onto it, he stopped short.
“Eliza, please be careful tomorrow,” he said, suddenly serious.
Even though she was pretty sure his concern was for her mental status and not her physical safety, she chose to interpret it as the latter.
“Careful? How dangerous could it possibly be to spend the morning in a museum with a moldy old body and a nonviolent Buddhist?”
She knelt on the bed, reached for his shirt collar, and tugged him into the bed with her.
11
Saturday morning
Before sunrise
Davina dreamed she was riding a horse. She urged the mare on, reveling in the cool wind that kissed her face. Then the loud chirping began. She turned and scanned the horizon, but she saw no birds. The volume increased until, finally, it penetrated her sleep. Not a bird at all.
She muttered to herself and patted around blindly with her hand until she hit the snooze button on her alarm clock. Then she snuggled back under the covers to sneak in a few more moments of sleep before she pulled on her work boots and trudged off to another cold, predawn morning at the dig site.
Then she remembered. She’d been suspended. There would be no more mornings at the dig site. She propped herself up on her elbows and stared blearily at the clock face. Why on earth had she set her alarm for five-thirty a.m. on the first day of her freedom?
Girl, the least you could do is take advantage of it and sleep in until the new semester starts, she grouched at herself.
She reached for her phone to check the weather and saw last night’s text from Bodhi King. She was instantly wide awake. She flew out of bed, turned off the alarm clock, turned on the lights, and brushed her teeth with one hand while she combed out her hair with the other.
She had no confidence that her plan would work. The only chance she did have was if she got to the Rutherford Museum’s employee parking lot before the housekeeping supervisor did. She grabbed her phone, her keys, and her wallet and raced out the door pulling on her coat over her sweats. Coffee would have to wait.
She coaxed her old Honda to life and raced toward the long, winding, one-lane road that meandered up the mountain to the museum. When she pulled into the lot and saw that she was the first one there, she cursed. Too early. She should have stopped for a takeaway cup of coffee. Her stomach growled in agreement. And a bagel.
She let the engine idle so the heater would do its job and watched through the windshield until she saw a convoy of vehicles wind up the mountain and trickle into the lot. When the familiar blue Subaru chugged in, she turned off the ignition, pulled up the hood on her coat, and got out of the car. She stamped her feet to keep them warm while she waited for her cousin.
Verna, sleepy-eyed and stifling a yawn, walked right past Davina without so much as a second glance.
“Verna,” she stage-whispered.
Her cousin kept trudging toward the employees’ entrance.
“Verna,” she called a little louder this time.
Verna looked over her shoulder but didn’t stop walking. “Who said that? Davina? What are you doing here?”
She jerked her head to the side. “C’mere.”
Verna hesitated, pursed her lips, and looked around. She checked the time, then made her way over to Davina.
“What’s up?”
“I need a favor.”
Verna huffed. “I shoulda known. ’Course you only come around when you want something.”
Keep your temper, Davina told herself. You need her.
“Please.”
“You’re too good to slum around with your family, right, professor?”
Davina ignored the sneer in her cousin’s voice and focused on keeping her own tone even and friendly. “Of course not. Didn’t I just see you at Aunt Robbie’s place the week before last?”
“Girl, that doesn’t count. It was Christmas. Even the most hardhearted fool sees their family on Christmas.”
She had a point. Davina stared at her in silence. Verna would either nurse her grudge or would help her. It was out of her hands. She sure as heck wasn’t gonna beg.
After a long moment, Verna sighed. “What’s the favor?”
“Can you sneak me onto the cleaning crew this morning?”
“Why?”
“I need to get into the museum. It’s important.”
Verna narrowed her eyes. “So walk right through the front door. You’re the head of the Jonah Bell Dig.”
“I can’t. Sully and Margot banned me yesterday. I just need to get into the building for a couple hours. That’s it. Please.”
Davina’s stomach dropped at the ugly glee on Verna’s face. She could tell by Verna’s eager expression that she was going to tell her no.
She hurried to add, “I’ll owe you one.”
“You’ll owe me one. One what?”
Davina shrugged. “One. Whatever you need. Like a chip, cash it in when you need a favor.”
At the word cash, Verna’s smile reached her eyes.
“Actually, I don’t need a chip. Sure, I’ll get you a janitor’s uniform and get you into the building. It’s gonna cost you.” She rubbed her thumb across her ring finger and middle finger as if the nuance might be lost on Davina.
“How much?”
“Family rate. I’ll do it for five hundred.”
“Five hundred dollars? Are you kidding?”
She shrugged. “So, negotiate.”
Davina pulled her wallet out of her pocket and peered inside. She thumbed through the twenties.
“I have one hundred and eighty dollars on me. That’s all I have.”
“That’ll do.”
“Let me keep a twenty for gas?”
“Nope. I’m sure you have a credit card you can use. Run it up.”
Davina blew out a breath, pulled the nine twenty-dollar bills from her billfold, and shoved them into Verna’s hand. Verna closed her fist around the stack of cash.
“Here. Let’s go.”
“And?” Verna showed no signs of movement.
“And nothing? I told you, that’s all I have.”
Her cousin pursed her lips, crossed her arms over her chest, and fixed Davina with a steely look. “I’m waiting.”
Davina almost said for what? But she caught herself. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. C’mon.”
She trailed Verna around to the rear entrance.
12
Cold Path Page 6
