by Tess Oliver
“Yes please.” And then something on the shelf caught my eye. “That’s strange,” I muttered not really meaning to speak out loud.
Ethan glanced over at me and then followed my gaze to the statue of Osiris.
“It’s nothing, only I was working in here all day yesterday and I could swear that Osiris was facing that south window. Now the statue is facing this direction.”
“Maybe you just forgot that it was facing this direction,” Ethan said brusquely.
“You’re right. Or I guess it’s possible your dad had gone into the safe to look at the arm band. I know he’ll be sad to see it go.”
“Yeah, that’s probably it. Cream and sugar?”
“Just cream.”
Ethan walked out, and I stared at the statue for a moment longer. The almond shaped, heavily lined eyes of the statuette stared at me from across the room. It had definitely been facing the opposite direction the day before. I was sure of it. I smiled at the sleek little god of afterlife and thought about how Ethan immediately acted nervous when I’d brought it up. “I’ll bet you have some secrets to tell.”
***
I’d spent another two hours on the computer and then went to my room to read. And all the while I listened for the uneven footsteps in the hallway. The afternoon passed and Dalton had not returned.
Professor North had prepared macaroni and cheese, but even as hungry as I was, I’d swirled the noodles around on my plate through most of the meal. At his dad’s request, Ethan had sent his brother several text messages just to see if ‘he was still alive’ but there had been no response. My mood bordered on despondent, and I could not have been angrier at myself for feeling that way.
I’d volunteered to do the dishes and took my time with the mindless task to pass the evening away. In my head I’d calculated the amount of time I needed to finish the boxes in the office. I’d been working at a rate of ten pieces an hour, and if the remaining boxes held the usual amount of samples then I should have all the artifacts entered in the data base in four days. It was not going to take the full two weeks that the professor had calculated and then I’d have no reason to stick around. Christmas was in eight days, and it seemed very likely that I would be spending it alone in my small apartment on campus.
I trudged wearily to my bedroom. Ethan and his father were deep in conversation in the office as I passed. They certainly had a lot to discuss.
The downy quilt on the bed felt like heaven as I tucked myself in and curled up. The quiet of the house and the peaceful sounds of a winter’s night helped me fall asleep quickly even in my blue mood.
***
My eyes popped open. I stared into the darkness of the bedroom trying to figure out at first exactly where I was and then what I’d heard. In my dream I’d heard an agonized yell. Muffled voices and footsteps pounded the wood floor in the narrow hallway. I jumped up and slid my feet into my fluffy slippers. A light flicked on in the hallway just as I opened my door.
I looked down the hall. Ethan was standing in Dalton’s doorway looking grave and upset. I could hear Professor North’s deep distinctive tone float out through the open door. I walked up to Ethan.
He turned to me and forced away his look of concern. “Everything is fine, Auggie.” He took my hand and led me toward my room. “Dalton had a nightmare. Something he’s been dealing with since Iraq, I’m afraid.” We stopped at my doorway, and the grim look reappeared on his face. “Can’t imagine the horrific visions and memories he has haunting his sleep. He’ll be fine in the morning. Try not to worry.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
I shut the door and climbed into bed. I sat up for a long time, my arms wrapped around myself to stop the shivering, but it wasn’t cold inside the room, it was cold inside my heart. I could hear the professor’s deep voice through the walls, but I couldn’t decipher what he was saying. What could he say? What could a man say to comfort a son who had lived through some of the worst life has to offer?
I pulled the cover up to my chin like I’d done as a young girl when I was certain the closet monsters were coming out to get me, but I couldn’t relax enough to sleep. The house was quiet and dark again. I climbed back into my slippers. I peeked out into the hallway and everything was still. I tiptoed to the kitchen hoping a glass of milk would make me sleepy.
I scuttled around the corner, and a gasp stuck in my throat. The refrigerator door was open, and the light pouring out illuminated his broad bare back, showing every line of hard muscle . . . and every small scar. There were many. His pajama pants hung low on his narrow hips, and I stood as quiet as a mouse for a guilty second and stared at his incredible physique.
He still had not heard me, and I wondered if he was still lost in the agony of his bad dream. I tiptoed without a sound, but as I neared he seemed to sense me. He continued to stare into the refrigerator as if he expected something to jump out into his hands.
“I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“Please don’t apologize.” His shoulders tensed as I moved closer to him. Even in front of an open refrigerator, heat rolled off of him in searing waves.
He shut the door but didn’t turn around. He leaned his forehead against the freezer door. I stepped closer. My hand trembled slightly as I reached up and touched him. The muscles of his back tightened and then relaxed. I trailed my fingers over the tiny scars that were splattered across his shoulders. The tiny ridges were hard, and I could feel the pain of each one in my fingertips. I stood on my toes and lowered my mouth to his skin. He sucked in a sharp breath as I pressed my lips to the scars. I kissed him over and over again wanting to absorb the pain that still clung to him physically and mentally. And he let me kiss him. His broad shoulders lifted and fell with each shallow breath as I ran my lips across his marred skin.
I lifted my mouth and whispered against his shoulder. “That kiss I turned down—” I pressed my lips against the hollow between his shoulder blades. “I may never forgive myself.”
Dalton turned around. The green of his eyes looked pale in the dim moonlight falling through the window panes. His hands reached up and took hold of each side of my face. He lowered his face and his mouth grazed mine just as the floor of the dining room creaked with footsteps.
“Dalton?” Professor North called through the dark.
He released me and I nearly cried out in disappointment.
Professor North walked into the kitchen. “Oh, Auggie, you’re here too. I guess it has been a restless night for all of us then. I’ll heat some tea.”
“Not for me,” Dalton said. He opened the refrigerator again and pulled out the milk.
Professor North reached up into the cupboard for a box of tea. “I really wasn’t talking to you, Dalton. Let’s face it, you’re not exactly the tea type.” He stopped and looked at his son. “Pour some milk and come sit at the table, Dalton. Milk and conversation might help chase away the dark thoughts.”
Dalton poured the milk and stared at me over the brim of his glass as he drank it down. Professor North handed me a cup with a tea bag brewing in hot water. “Lemon verbena, it’s very relaxing.”
Dalton sat reluctantly at the table. He made no effort to hide the fact that he was watching me. I wanted him to watch me. I wanted his eyes on me.
“Dalton,” Professor North spoke, and it seemed we’d both nearly forgotten that he was sitting at the table with us. “Maybe you should consider going back to a therapist. There is no reason for you to deal with this on your own when there is help available.”
Dalton looked at me for a long, silent moment and then he dragged his gaze away and turned to his dad. “The only thing the therapist did was push pills on me. Between the mind bending drugs and the pain killers, my head was in such a deep fog I didn’t know my left hand from my right. Not feeling anything, physically or mentally, was a good thing at the time, but
it’s no way to live.”
Professor North stared down at his cup. His torment showed plainly on his face. “That does sound awful, Dalton. I’m sorry the therapist didn’t have more to offer you.”
“I’ll get through it, Dad.”
“I know you will. I’ve never known anyone tougher or more resilient than you, Dalton.” It was the nicest thing I’d heard him say to his son.
A quiet fell over the table. I sipped my tea wondering if I was going to be able to sleep again or if the near kiss would keep me tossing and turning the rest of the night.
“Dad,” Dalton said suddenly, “who are the men who have been coming to see you at the house?”
It was the last question I’d expected him to ask, but his dad seemed prepared for it. Professor North lowered his cup to the table. “Those were men from the Egyptian embassy.”
Dalton waited for him to elaborate.
“As you can imagine, now that we’ve learned that the arm band had likely belonged to Cleopatra, word has gotten out and museum curators from all over the world have been contacting the university. Of course, the Egyptian government insists it be returned to them to take its rightful place in the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities. They’ve visited me several times in hopes that I will help the university make the right decision.” His explanation was more than plausible, and he delivered it with enough ease to erase any suspicion Dalton might have had. It was only hard to understand why Ethan had not just divulged the information in the first place.
Dalton nodded silently. “Well, I’m heading back to bed.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. Once again his gaze fell on me and I felt it so strongly, it felt as if he’d reached across and touched my face. “Good night, Auggie.”
Chapter 13
Professor North stepped into the office and looked at the boxes that had been moved to the finished pile. “You are extraordinary, Auggie. I wish my sons had the concentration level you have.” He walked up to me. “August, I hope you consider staying through the holidays, even after the work is finished. Unless, of course, you have family or friends to see.”
“Most of my friends went back home to their families, and my parents and brothers are still in Europe. I will stay as long as you can bear having me.” I smiled. “I’ve grown quite fond of your cooking.”
“Good, it’s settled then. Well, Ethan and I are heading into the city. We have some business at the university. Dalton has gone off on the snowmobile. He gets restless cooped up in the house. Winter has always been hard on him. But I’ve started an impressive fire in the hearth, and I left a pot of homemade cocoa on the stove. Just heat it up.”
“Sounds wonderful. I think I will take a break and sit in front of the fire. A chill always creeps into this room in the afternoon.”
“Yes, this office is always cold in winter and hot in summer. We should be back in several hours.”
The front door closed and the car started up in the driveway as I finished entering one last piece of pottery. I walked to my room and grabbed my book and then headed to the living room. The fire lapped at the ornate fireplace screen. It filled the entire room with glowing warmth.
I sat down on the plush rug in front of the hearth. I’d taken to wearing my fuzzy slippers while working at the computer. They were far more effective at keeping my feet warm than my shoes, and far more comfortable. I pushed off my slippers and stuck my feet closer to the fire. A large picture window filled one wall of the living room, and I stared out at the white landscape. The sky was filled with pale gray clouds, and tiny flecks of snow fell past the window. It was the perfect winter scene. I relaxed back against the seat of the couch and opened my book.
I’d hardly read two pages when the silence of the house was shattered by the front door swinging open. A string of curses followed. I jumped up and walked to the entryway. A small tree seemed to be struggling to squeeze itself through the door. After a few harrowing moments, it popped through and landed wet and exhausted on the tile floor of the entry. Dalton stepped in behind it.
He smiled proudly down at the tree. “It looked smaller out there in the open.”
“For a second, I thought one of the trees had uprooted itself and was trying to push inside for warmth. How will it stand?”
“I’ll have to go down to the basement and get the tree stand and the decorations. We haven’t had a tree in a long time.” There was a distant sadness in his tone, and that boyish quality I’d occasionally glimpsed in his face showed now.
“Well, I think it’s a great idea.” I leaned down and picked up the top of the tree, and we carried it to living room.
“Head to the window. That was where my mom always put the tree.” He leaned the tree up in the corner. “We used to make strings of popcorn to hang on some of the trees surrounding the house so the animals had a treat. Then Ethan and I would lean our elbows on that windowsill and watch the birds and squirrels devour the popcorn.”
“Those are all pleasures we city folk can only dream and read about. Although my mom did once buy a designer bird feeder to hang in the jacaranda shading the pool house. She even had the gardener fill it with bird seed. But then one day she was walking out of the pool house and a pigeon flew off the roof and dove at the bird feeder. She screamed and threw her hat at it. Apparently, only exotic, rare birds were allowed to eat at our bird feeder. She had it taken down.”
Dalton shook his head. “How the heck did you turn out so normal?”
I laughed. “It wasn’t easy. Sometimes it feels as if I’m just sitting on the sidelines watching my family like a spectator. I swear they seem more and more ridiculous with each passing year.”
Dalton stepped toward me. He reached up and pushed a strand of my hair back behind my ear and even though his fingertip barely grazed my skin, it felt as if he’d caressed me. Even after the moment of intimacy we’d had in the dark kitchen, he still seemed to be holding himself back from something as if the sting of my first rejection had stuck with him. “Well, they can’t be all that ridiculous because they definitely did one thing right.” He lowered his hand. “I’m going to go in to take a shower. I smell like wet pine needles and gasoline.”
I laughed. “Is that what it is? I thought you were trying out a new aftershave. I’ll just sit here warming my feet by the fire and then I’ll help you carry the decorations up from the basement.”
I stretched out my legs again. I picked up the book and read the same line several times as the shower started. My mind returned to the sight of Dalton standing in the light of the refrigerator, the feel of my mouth pressed against his bare shoulder, the touch of his hands on my face as he leaned down to kiss me.
It was a fleeting decision, something that was rare for me. But I wanted Dalton North so badly, I ached just thinking about him. I pushed to my feet and walked down the hallway. His bedroom door was ajar and I pushed it open. His snow soaked jeans and shirt were strewn on the floor next to his wet and worn army boots.
I’d never done anything like it before, and it felt almost surreal as I stood in the center of his bedroom listening to the roar of the shower. I’d put up my guard early on, fearful that I would fall for him and leave here brokenhearted. Now I was throwing myself headlong into it. But, suddenly, the risks seemed worth taking. My only real worry was his reaction.
I lifted my sweater off over my head and unhooked my bra. The air in the bedroom was cool and I shivered as I slid off my jeans and panties. I stood completely naked in the center of his bedroom, trembling with nerves.
I pushed open the bathroom door. Condensation clouded the mirror and warm soapy steam filled the air. The wavy glass doors allowed me to see only the outline of his incredible physique. I slid open the shower door. He pulled his head out from the stream of water and opened his eyes. Before he could react, I stepped inside the shower stall.
His chest rose and fell as he looked at me. The bathroom light glinted off his silver dog tags. Water dripped off the ends of his long black hair, and his gaze dropped to take in my body. I felt a split second of terror that he would ask me to leave and then he reached for my arm and pulled me against his hard, naked body. His hand slid behind my neck and warm water cascaded over us as his mouth devoured mine with an urgency that made me dizzy with need. His large, calloused hands caressed my back as his tongue traced my lips and tongue and then his hands slid down to my naked bottom and he pulled me tighter against him. His hungry mouth wandered away from my lips. My head fell back as his tongue ran along my throat. He reached up and pushed my breast against his mouth. I wrapped my fingers in his hair as his tongue traced circles around my nipple. I pushed hard against the pressure of his open mouth, wanting him to take in more of me.
As his hands explored my naked skin, I reached down and took hold of him. He felt hard and thick in my hand. A low groan rolled up from his throat. He lifted his face and his gaze was more heated than the steamy air. The pulsating flow of water seemed to keep rhythm with my heartbeat.
“Let’s go out to the fire.” He lowered his mouth and, even in the warmth of the shower, I shivered as his tongue traced circles around my ear. “I want to taste you . . . and touch you . . . until you scream out in ecstasy.”
His words made me weak and defenseless in his hands. We stepped out of the shower. Rivulets of water trickled over the muscular curves of his chest and abdomen. He wrapped a towel around my shoulders and then yanked me against his wet body. The warm, comforting steam condensed to cold moisture as he kissed me long and hard.
We pulled apart just long enough to dry off. Dalton limped to his bed and for the first time I let my gaze drop down to his bad leg. Deep scars ran like railroad tracks down the back of his leg and there were large dents where the muscle had been torn away. A cold tremble rushed through me as I envisioned the agony he must have endured. He caught me looking at it.
