by Mae Clair
He said it so matter-of-factly, it took her a moment to realize he’d pulled the rug out from under her. She stared across the table. He watched with a teasing look in his eyes, more cavalier romancer than maritime scholar.
“I need you to be focused, Elijah.”
“I am focused.” He clasped her hand across the table. “Focused on a kiss. Admit it. You enjoyed it this morning.”
“We’re in a public place.”
“Scandalous. Should I be on alert for the kiss-police?” He glanced over his shoulder, ducking his head as if trying to avoid being seen. “I might get written up and sentenced to four days of hand-holding.” His grin was wide and breezy when his eyes swung back to her.
Reagan shook her head, but couldn’t stop a smile. “I cannot believe you have a PhD.”
He raised a single eyebrow. “Scary, huh?”
Before she could protest, he pushed from his chair, leaned across the table and kissed her. His hand slipped behind her head, holding her in place. Heat flooded her cheeks as his mouth moved leisurely over hers.
When he released her, she felt like her face was on fire. Her gaze dipped to her toast, certain everyone in the small cafe was staring at her. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she whispered fiercely.
He pushed his plate away. “Why?”
“Because…because…” She raised her eyes. “It’s obvious that I’m older than you, and people will think–”
“What?” He jumped on the opening. “That we might be attracted to each other? There’s a news flash.” He grinned to ease her anxiety. “I thought you were over the age thing.”
She bit her lip. “So did I.” She hadn’t considered how she would feel being kissed by him in public.
He slipped his glasses back into his shirt pocket. The truth was, it felt darn good to be kissed like that. Neil had never been particularly demonstrative except when he was in lecher mode.
“It’s not really your age that bothers me.”
“Then what?”
“You’re just so…” She struggled for the right word. “Uninhibited. You have to give me time to adjust. I can’t unlearn thirty-five years of upbringing overnight. It would be nice if you slowed down to light-speed.”
He folded the paper with the clue and slipped it into his shirt pocket. “How about a reasonable facsimile?” He motioned to the waitress for their check. “If you promise never to mention age again, I’ll promise not to ravish you in a public place. Because you know that’s next on my to-do list, right after the strawberries and cream thing.”
She laughed, feeling better. “You are an incorrigible man, Dr. Cross.”
He winked at her. “That’s why you can’t stop fantasizing about me.”
He was teasing again, so she let the remark pass without comment, but she couldn’t help wondering how many women had fantasized about him. Did he like his relationships short and fun-loving, or long and soul-wrenching? She had the feeling he was capable of the latter, but that the things which mattered most to him were deeply buried, protected by layers of carefully staged irreverence.
“What about the clue?” she asked, after they had paid the waitress and were walking back to his Jeep. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas about the strange shape?”
“Sorry.” Elijah slipped his arm around her shoulders as they walked. “Why don’t we take a drive to the boat docks? Maybe looking at commercial trawlers will give me an idea.”
Reagan nodded, glancing at her watch. 10:17 AM. Nearly ten hours remaining. It didn’t seem like that much time, despite the entire day stretching ahead of them. She flashed a smile at Elijah, forcing confidence she didn’t feel. “Sounds like a plan.”
Somehow before eight o’clock that night, they needed to solve Sothern’s bizarre riddle. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and the Twelfth Sun were connected.
Chapter 8
They spent the morning at the shipping docks watching commercial trawlers forge through the deep churning waters of the inlet to the wide ocean beyond. By noon the cloud cover cleared, bowing before the golden light of a blazing sun. The temperature climbed steadily but remained bearable, combined with a cool ocean breeze. Elijah stopped for a grape soda and used the break to put down the top on his Jeep. Afterward, he headed up the coast to a sandy stretch of beach with access for off-road vehicles. Popping the Wrangler into four-wheel drive low, he headed across the sand, stopping a few feet shy of the water’s edge.
The ocean lapped onto the shore, pushed by the repetitive roll of incoming waves. A few yards up the beach two men surf fished, their rods anchored in the sand, line tips bobbing gracefully with the rush and ebb of the changing tide. Farther away, three teenagers in wet suits clung to body boards, waiting for the waves to swell in size.
Elijah sighed and dragged a hand through his long curls. “I think we’re on the wrong track,” he said, staring straight ahead.
Reagan sent him a curious glance. He hadn’t said much for the last hour. She knew he’d been turning the clue over in his head, examining it from all angles, methodically picking at the puzzle. At one point he’d even pulled up a copy of the Rime of the Ancient Mariner on his iPhone so he could read it through from start to finish, but it brought them no closer to deciphering the clue. Her own limited knowledge of the Twelfth Sun allowed her to go only so far before hitting a dead end.
“Why are we on the wrong track?” she asked, turning slightly in her seat.
Elijah frowned. He wore sunglasses to block the late morning glare. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark green shading, but sensed when his gaze shifted to her. “I’ve gone over everything I know about the Twelfth Sun and there’s nothing remotely linked to a strange shape. I think the clue relates to something abstract.”
That wouldn’t be far off the mark from their last clue. “Such as?”
He glanced toward the ocean. “I keep coming up with the same thing, but it doesn’t make sense. Sin, remorse, regret.”
He had a knack for thinking too deeply, in her opinion. “Sothern wouldn’t give us something we couldn’t solve. Either here in Serenity Harbor, or at the house. Those were the ground rules Pellar gave us at the beginning of the hunt. I still think this is something basic, and you’re reading too much into it.”
His lips twitched with a quick smile. “Don’t discount the extreme. A good mind considers all options, no matter how remote. The Mariner killed an albatross that had led his crew to safety, and then regretted his action. The crew hung the bird around his neck as a symbol of his guilt and shame. Haven’t you ever heard of carrying around an albatross? Wouldn’t you call that a strange shape?”
She had started to speak halfway through his explanation, but clamped her mouth shut as his words penetrated. An albatross around the neck. A strange shape. She leaned back against her seat with an intrigued smile. “You really are good. But I don’t understand the solution. Does Sothern expect us to kill an albatross?”
Elijah leaned back too, taking her hand as he watched the water lap against the shore. One of the fishermen had scored a hit and waded into the water, steadily working his line. Incoming waves rushed around his knees, splashing and soaking his frayed shorts. “I don’t know what Sothern expects, but I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this whole thing.”
She felt a tiny ping of alarm. “What do you mean?”
“I mean something’s been wrong from the start. Why does Sothern tell your uncle he can purchase Rook’s journal, then make the same promise to four other people? Why stage an elaborate treasure hunt and then leave town on business? Why allow Pellar to run the whole show?” Elijah scowled. “I have the feeling there’s more at work here than what’s on the surface. That card on the first clue to a blue-eyed child. Don’t you think that’s peculiar?”
Reagan shrugged. A lot about the situation bothered her, but she wasn’t sure how forthcoming to be. She wasn’t ready to tell him about Brody, so she settled for admitting she t
hought someone was watching them. She told him about the strange feelings she’d had of being observed, about the mysterious person in the planetarium, and the person who’d vanished from the hallway last night.
“Do you think it could be Sothern?” she asked. “Maybe he’s been here all along and is hiding for some reason.” A breeze scraped across her cheek and sent a shiver to the base of her spine as a sudden thought occurred to her. “Maybe he’s disfigured. Oh, Elijah, what if he’s afraid to be seen?”
He considered for a moment, but eventually discounted the idea. “No. I think he’s trying to tell us something.” He rolled his head against the high seat back and exhaled loudly. “You know, when I used to get stuck on something, I’d talk it over with my dad. Mostly I was kicking around my own ideas, but somehow with him as a sounding board, I was always able to work it out.”
Reagan twisted to face him, drawing her knee onto the seat. “You were close with your father?”
Elijah nodded. “He went into a black period when my mom died, but it didn’t last. Afterward I’d hear him fighting with Eden, about how she was falling in with the wrong crowd. I thought when she left it would be the last straw, but he didn’t crack. He was a blue-collar worker, a machinist. He used to say he never understood how he ended up with a kid like me, but he sold himself short. My dad was an intelligent man. He just didn’t have the same opportunities. He dropped out of school in ninth grade to support his mother when his father died. Later, he worked two jobs to keep me in college. Even with scholarships and grants, there were expenses. He was good at taking care of people. At the end, all he worried about was me being alone.”
She touched his arm. When he talked about his father there was gentleness in his voice she hadn’t heard before. It gave her a glimpse of the part he kept hidden beneath the surface, tucked away behind a wall of intellect and quirky irreverence.
“Why do you think Eden left?”
He glanced away, his mouth tightening. “I don’t know. I was ten, she was twenty. I didn’t realize at the time, but looking back on it, she was doing drugs. There was some jerk…I can’t remember his name. Rod or Ron. I kept thinking she’d come back, but she never did. My dad died and she wasn’t even there.”
Reagan was surprised by the lack of bitterness in his voice. Rather than resentment, she heard tired resignation.
“When I was a kid, Eden would read me stories,” he continued, staring out at the ocean. “About sailors, the stars and the sea. She loved books about old ships and nautical folklore. I guess that’s where my own interest comes from.” He tilted his head as if listening to the surf. “My favorite was about a sailor who used the Southern Cross to navigate home when he got lost at sea. I had a rough time when my mom died and Eden used that story to help me cope. She gave me a silver cross on a chain and told me I should always carry it. That it represented our mother’s love and, like the Southern Cross, it would bind us together. All of us, my dad included, like a family.” He laughed and dragged a hand over his face. “Shit. I feel like I’m doing psychotherapy. This isn’t bringing us any closer to solving the riddle.”
Caught up in Elijah’s reflections, Reagan had completely forgotten the clue. She knew they needed to concentrate on solving it, but wasn’t ready to let go. “Do you still have it?”
Elijah eyes slid to the side behind his glasses. “Have what?”
“The cross Eden gave you?”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel and he nodded.
She pressed one step further. “Do you carry it with you?”
He turned to face her. Behind the dark lenses of his glasses, his eyes were unreadable. “Be sensible, Reagan. After all this time, engaging in years of academic study and concentrated field research, do you think I’d hang onto a childish trinket?”
“Do you carry it with you?” she persisted, quieter this time.
Elijah pressed his lips together. He said nothing, but stared at her as if she’d crossed some invisible line. Then he started the ignition and palmed the wheel, spinning the Jeep around. “I’ve got some other ideas about the clue,” he said. “Let’s head back up the coast.”
Reagan had her answer.
* * * *
Elijah had no idea about the clue, and that bothered him because he normally picked up on things easily. His reasoning was clouded, soiled with memories that had somehow connected themselves with Sothern’s damn riddle. He kept getting hung up on the Mariner’s sin in Coleridge’s ballad. Was it because he equated it with Eden’s crime…walking out on him and his father when he was ten years old? The clues were beginning to feel strangely personal, and that wasn’t possible. He was losing perspective, dredging up memories and feelings he hadn’t examined since his dad died four years ago.
He needed to shove the past aside. Refocus. So what if he still carried the damn silver cross? He felt it burn against his thigh where it rested in the pocket of his cargo pants. It wasn’t a true cross like a Christian cross, but skewed at an angle, like the constellation Crux. Just a stupid trinket. He should have thrown it out long ago, or shoved it in a drawer and forgotten about it. How could a reputable twenty-five year old man with a doctorate believe in the power of a childhood promise? It was all freaking make-believe, like the tooth fairy and Santa Claus. He’d outgrown things that went bump in the night; why hadn’t he outgrown this?
His hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. The wind whipped through the open-topped Jeep as he headed back through Serenity Harbor. Reagan had gathered her hair into one hand, holding it against the frivolous breeze, but his blew in all directions. Every now and then a stray end caught the corner of his eye beneath his glasses with a sharp sting. The sun was dazzling and bright, dancing on the dark blue hood of the Jeep. He didn’t know where he was headed, just drove, letting shops and scenery pass him by.
The Soda Shack brimmed with a late lunch crowd, as did the small restaurant where they’d had crab cake sandwiches the day before. T-shirt vendors, jewelers, clothing boutiques and gift shops had all opened their doors to the early-season tourists who bustled about in brightly colored shorts, floppy hats and sandals.
Elijah eventually returned to the commercial docks, veering down a side road to a public marina. Moored cabin cruisers, fishing boats and speedboats disappeared behind them as they continued down the lane. Three miles later the road dead-ended at a sandy cove overlooking the bay. Private and deserted, the area was surrounded on two sides by tall patches of marshy grass and salt reeds. Elijah killed the ignition and dropped his forehead against the steering wheel.
“What’s wrong?” Reagan asked, her voice laced with concern.
“Headache,” he mumbled.
His head pounded, making him squint behind his glasses. He could think rings around anything that allowed him to remain aloof, but when he factored himself into the equation, it became a muddled mess in his highly analytical mind. And Sothern’s clue had done just that, dredging up memories of sin and regret. Eden’s sin.
Reagan touched his sleeve. “I’m sorry. Maybe if we get out of the sun for a while.”
He shook his head, not bothering to raise it. He heard the screech of a gull overhead, the gentle lap of bay water against the shore, the rustle of the breeze as it slipped through the tall marsh grass. Exhaling, he slumped back against the seat.
He needed something. Wanted something, but couldn’t put his finger on what that something was. His father had been right. He was alone. No parents, no grandparents, no brothers or sisters. Just him, Dr. Elijah Cross, noted marine archeologist. Hell, he didn’t even own a dog.
He turned his head and looked at the woman beside him, so damn beautiful the sight of her made his heart ache. He’d promised not to seduce her into bed for a week, but hadn’t promised not to kiss her. Right now as confused and irritated as he was, he wanted more than a simple kiss. He wanted to put his hands all over her and feel her body yield beneath his. To hear her moan in his ear, her senses fir
ed with passion. He wanted to stroke her bare flesh and feel the shock of that contact course through her. He wanted her in his arms, begging him to touch her.
Frustrated, he shoved his fingers beneath his glasses and rubbed his eyes, trying to silence his desire.
“Elijah?” Her voice was soft.
Surprised, he lifted his head. She leaned forward in the seat, closer now, the sun dancing like fire in the smoky depths of her green eyes. Carefully she removed his glasses, folded them, and set them aside. There was something different about the way she looked at him. It sent a spike of heat racing to his groin. Her eyes dropped to his lips and his mouth went dry. His pants grew tight across the crotch, and he knew all she had to do was look down to understand what he craved.
Her.
But she was still looking in his eyes, part siren, part beguiling innocence. “I never thanked you for the help you’re giving my uncle. I know this clue is bothering you, but I don’t understand why.” Cautiously, she touched his face.
He closed his eyes, spurred by a staggering sensation of warmth. It was too much. The last of his reserves buckled. Unable to contain himself, he snaked a hand behind her neck, crushing his mouth to hers. She stiffened in surprise, but the resistance lasted only a second. Shifting, she scooted across the center console and willingly folded into his lap.
Elijah bowed his head lower, deepening the kiss. He heard a soft gasp as her bottom encountered his rock-hard arousal. She squirmed innocently in his lap and the action sent his blood catapulting higher. Shaken, he broke the kiss, breathing raggedly against her cheek.
“You’re going to send me into the ionosphere.” His heart banged so loudly he was certain she heard it. His eyes flashed to hers. “Do you have any idea what it’s costing me not to take you right here?”
“You promised,” she countered. “A week.” But her voice was frail, no longer certain, her eyes enormous and as breathtakingly green as the tall marsh grass bordering the cove. Red-gold hair lay tousled about her face and shoulders, glittering copper-bright beneath the sun. Her breath came in short gasps, her lips swollen from his kiss. She looked sexy as hell. And disturbingly vulnerable.
