Sugar and Gold

by Brea Viragh

  “You shouldn’t be alone.” He shook his head. “Not when there’s a crazy psycho out there determined to bring us both to collapse.”

  I started. “What do you mean?”

  “You think the police got an anonymous phone call about me by accident? Hell no. What about my mom’s tires? Unh-uh. Whoever painted a target on your back decided I should have one, too. It’s the same guy. Or girl. I don’t want to discriminate.”

  It was a spider’s web of tangled threads crossing over one another and around again. My mind searched for a pattern and came up with nothing. “Who would want to do that?”

  “I’m not sure, Essie.”

  We passed the rest of the drive in silence, my temple throbbing in time with my heartbeat. Erratic. He meant no harm, I knew. And it wasn’t as though I’d resent having a man around the house. I wasn’t accustomed to having one. Especially one this strong. This capable. One who told me it was all going to be okay, and somehow I believed him.

  “Well, here we are.” I gestured toward the porch. “I guess this is good night.”

  “Not entirely. I did tell you,” Isaac stated in a soft tone that brooked no argument, “you’d better get used to having me around.”

  Fresh air or not, I was starting to feel lightheaded again. No way I would admit it was because of Isaac.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I’m moving in with you.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Excuse me?” I squawked in a very undignified manner.

  “I’m moving in with you. I want to make sure no one is going to hurt you again. The closer I stay, the less likely it is.”

  I laughed because there was nothing better to do. “You are not moving in with me.” It sounded good when I said it out loud. Like I meant business. “First of all, the attacks seem to happen because you’re around. Secondly, no. Just no. Are you insane?” I turned to face him, a profile study in seriousness. “You would drive me bonkers.”

  “I’ll have a bag packed and be over before midnight,” he said quietly. “Try not to do anything stupid until I get back.”

  Despite the cool end-of-September breeze, perspiration broke out along my scalp. “And I say no. Keep your bag at your parents’ house, where it is right now.”

  Isaac kept his eyes trained on the porch. I turned to study him fully, trying to imagine him as he’d been before. Carefree and affable, with a ready laugh for anyone who came close enough to hear it. Tonight was a different story. His mood shifted on a dime.

  Part of the problem, I mused. I’d spent so long fighting against what Isaac represented, going it alone, I wasn’t ready to have him here. To have anyone here, really, taking the wheel from my hands. When had I ever wanted, or needed, backup? Especially not the kind with piercing eyes and a quickfire temper.

  The other part of the problem, besides the obvious someone-is-out-to-get-me, was the attraction I felt. There would be no buffer between the two of us here. No well-meaning citizens to carefully insert themselves at the right time, to keep me from making a mistake.

  Would I be able to hold out? I hoped my reluctant—and silent—agreement to have him here didn’t make me stupid.

  “You’re not moving in,” I said, getting out and slamming the truck door. “End of story.” Only, it wasn’t the end. And we both knew the conversation was far from finished.

  He followed me nonetheless, waiting patiently while I scraped my keys from my pocket and set Frank down on the stoop. I brushed past Isaac and waltzed into the kitchen without a word.

  He took off his coat, picking mine up from the floor, draping them both over the nearest piece of furniture. “Don’t you want me to check the premises first?” he said, only half joking.

  I yanked Frank from the floor and cuddled him close once again. Needing something to fill my hands. “My premises are fine, thank you very much.” Tapping my fingers against the dog’s side, I turned to where Isaac stood near the doorway. “You can’t be serious about this.”

  He dove his hands into the pockets of his jeans and just stared at me.

  “I’m fine.” I used the dog to punctuate my point. Frank didn’t appreciate it.

  “Women who are fine don’t have SUVs run them off the road or push them into traffic.”

  “Those were just accidents,” I whispered. Knowing they were anything but.

  “I’ve spent enough time around accidents to know one when I see one. In fact, I look at one in the mirror every day.”

  This time, his joke didn’t do the trick. I stayed where I was a moment before placing the dog down and shifting against the kitchen counter. Linking my fingers then pulling them apart.

  “I haven’t figured out how to put the pieces together. I don’t know if I can build the house with bricks or whether its cards and they’re about to all fall down. Feeling like the walls are closing in around me...” I trailed off after that moment of unprecedented, unedited honesty.

  Isaac stared at me for a long moment before speaking. “We’re going to figure it out. Together. Nothing is closing in on you. Not while I’m around.”

  “It’s me. I can’t help but feel like I’m teetering on the edge of something, about to fall over.”

  “About to fall over,” he repeated, then kicked off his shoes. “Fuck the bag. I’m not leaving you alone. You’re taking me for a ride in the crazymobile.”

  I ignored his statement and turned to stare out the back window. A warm pressure nudged against my ankle. Bending down to give the dog another long pat, I let out a sigh. “This isn’t going to go away.”

  “What?”

  “This. The problem.”

  “You mean me.”

  A quick look over my shoulder told Isaac what I thought. “I stopped looking at you as a problem a long time ago.”

  Somehow, Isaac had moved. He touched my shoulder. “Essie. Whether it’s bricks or cards, I’m in the house. And while I’m here, there’s no way it’s coming down.”

  That almost brought tears to my eyes. I swallowed a sob.

  Suddenly he shifted and moved to the stove, lit the burner, and grabbed a pot from the rack. “I’m going to make us something to eat. I don’t know about you, but my stomach is demanding food. Hope you like soup.”

  In no time he’d retrieved the container of chicken soup from the truck, along with the leftover mini quiches. We ate in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with bowls of soup balanced in our hands. Mentally, we were a long way from the party. From the finger foods and music and revelry. Over homemade chicken soup, the only thing my agonized intestines could handle, we strategized about where to go from here. Isaac told me what he’d put together since the day the police searched his house for drugs.

  “I thought at first they were going to plant something and say they’d found it.” He swallowed a spoonful then continued. “It was the first thing in my mind when they knocked on the door. Then I realized I was being paranoid and pushed that idea aside. But then...there have been weird things going on at my house. A couple of days ago I found the tires slashed on my mom’s vehicle. I told you about that. But I didn’t tell you that someone ripped up an entire bed of herbs overnight. The mailbox was bashed in. Those kinds of things. I started sorting all these supposedly random attacks in my head, wondering if planting evidence wasn’t their initial goal. I don’t know.”

  I frowned down at my bowl. “You never told me you had your mailbox busted.”

  “Well, it wasn’t your business. Don’t worry about it.”

  I didn’t know how to explain it to him, except to say that I did worry. I did care, and what happened to him had, somewhere along the line, become my business too. I may have suspected him of foul play at first, but I was rational enough to know an innocent man when I saw one. In my kitchen. Eating soup.

  I lifted my gaze, met his, and tried to find the silver lining before I did what he predicted and went completely loony from the stress. “Don’t hide anything from me.”

  �
��Sugar, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “I mean it. If you insist on staying here, and if I’m stuck with you, then we need to lay out a few basic ground rules. The first of which: There are no more secrets.”

  “I don’t play by the rules well,” Isaac insisted. He pushed his bowl aside and walked from the kitchen to the living room.

  “You step one foot over the line and you’re out of here. I mean it,” I repeated for emphasis, wondering why I’d agreed to his imposition this easily. It cost me little in terms of pride but a huge amount in terms of control. How surprising. “You will sleep in the guest bedroom. I won’t stand for you coming into my bedroom at night and trying to get a little hanky-panky.”

  He held his hands up in a mock shield.

  “Also, I need nine hours of sleep every night or else I get a little grumpy.”

  He grinned. “Spilling blood kind of grumpy?”

  “Don’t tempt me. Also, and this is very important, don’t tell anyone you’re here.”

  His face darkened. “Afraid of what your girlfriends would say if they knew you had the town black sheep staying over?”

  I scoffed at that. “For personal reasons I’m not getting into. Put in your share of the chores, try not to be a pain in my patoot, don’t try to seduce me, and you can stay.” My spoon clattered against the empty bowl.

  Frank liked Isaac, which told me what I needed to know, if there were any lingering doubts about the man’s character. Which, I mused contentedly, there weren’t.

  “I’ll agree to everything. I’ll do my half of the chores, fix the broken-down piece of crap you call a mower,” Isaac used his thumb to point out the window in the general direction of my garden shed, “and help around the house. I won’t agree to leave seduction off the table. A man has his priorities.”

  I should have reprimanded him. Should have told him I wouldn’t tolerate that. I said nothing for the longest time.

  Then... “Fine.”

  Isaac let out a relieved breath. “You know, if you’d told me to stop, I would have. Might have been the hardest thing I’d had to do in a long while, but I would have.”

  I slid away from the counter, closing the distance to jab him hard in the side. “Put your dish in the sink when you’re done. I’m going to bed.”

  “Need me to check the covers before you slip under them?” he asked with a wicked grin.

  “No thanks. I’ve got my attack dog.”

  “At least give me a quick tour, so I’ll know where the bathroom is when I have to get up in the middle of the night.”

  “The guest room is the first door on the left.” I pointed for his benefit. “Bathroom is right across the hall, so there’s no way even someone like you can get lost.”

  “And your room?”

  I cocked my head to the side. “No hanky-panky. Right?”

  He kept his expression sober, and I gave him credit for the effort. “Right.”

  THREE DAYS LATER I was still trying to adjust to the situation. Isaac was true to his word in that he had done his fair portion of the chores, including taking Frank for evening walks and fixing my lawn mower. It wasn’t as difficult as I’d expected, making room for him. He found space where I gave it and nestled into the nooks and crannies. Any longer and I’d be reluctant to kick him out.

  Which would be a big problem, considering I wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend.

  Especially not a boyfriend of convenience. One who was only around to make sure whatever psychopath trying to do me in wasn’t successful. It didn’t scream long-term success.

  Instead of focusing on the romance that may or may not be budding between Isaac and me...I focused on work. All work and no play made Essie a happy girl. Unless, of course, she had to keep the doors to work closed and the ovens on lockdown.

  Although the bakery was shut down, the books kept rolling. Which meant my overhead costs grew while profit margins shrank. It didn’t help trying to reorganize stock after the pest control company made a mess of my storeroom. Or dealing with the curious stares from people on the street when they peered inside the darkened windows and saw me on my hands and knees, scrub, scrub, scrubbing.

  Talk about embarrassing.

  Not to mention convincing Isaac that I was fine going to the shop on my own. I didn’t need a body guard looming over me. Giving anyone who passed a death glare reminiscent of the Secret Service. The only compromise he allowed was me going in while he scoped out locations for his gastropub. Which meant he would be within a two-mile radius of me for most of the time.

  I shouldn’t have agreed. Any woman in her right mind would bristle at the intrusion, the compromise. The giving up of control. Yet I did. Kicking, screaming, and tantrum-throwing, I agreed.

  There was a certain way I should have reacted. I should have put my foot down and told him no, I wasn’t accepting those ludicrous terms. I shouldn’t have let him move in with me in the first place.

  Instead I acquiesced faster than rational and hid the satisfied smile from him before he caught on. Having a man around wasn’t the hardship I’d initially assumed. At least, it wasn’t with Isaac. Not when he fixed my mower and I slept better at night.

  Old-fashioned? Maybe.

  Total gender stereotype? Definitely.

  Good for peace of mind? You betcha!

  I finished at the bakery early, knowing there was more work to do tomorrow. And the next day. The next, too, if my to-do list was any indication.

  Instead the woods beckoned, each tree calling to me with a promise of peace. A way to forget my troubles in a heady mix of moss and earth. I strapped on my running shoes, whistling for Frank as we headed out into the looping trail carved out behind my cabin. I’d cut out and left town ahead of Isaac, sending him a quick text before putting my foot to the gas. He wasn’t necessary for a walk. Especially not one on my own property.

  I loved this area of the country. Houses scattered here and there, with acres of land between them. The drama of the mountains in the distance, their rolling depths in shadowed tints of navy. I needed the privacy, the solitude of the woods. There were times I busied myself with the garden, and reveled in the colorful pops of flowers from seasonal hanging baskets. Now I sought the refuge of the forest. The tall, narrow trunks of both evergreen and deciduous, cool and green and peaceful. Already the air held a hint of decay, a whiff of anticipation of autumn. Late afternoon sunlight streamed down on the ground through breaks in the overhead canopy, and I watched with amusement as Frank stopped to pee on every stump and rock.

  “This is what we needed,” I told the little dog. “I mean, there’s nothing better than taking a walk in the woods and getting back to nature, right? Right.”

  I answered my own question when the dog failed to respond. We walked farther into the glen until the light began to dim with oncoming dusk. Each step had my mind clearing, the fog lifting. Sometimes it was hard to bring my focus inward. Without the catharsis I received from baking, there were times I bobbled around unsure of my direction, and I couldn’t afford the distractions at this point.

  My thoughts engulfed me to the point where I hardly recognized the stamp of footsteps behind me. Frank scurried to my side. Then a twig snapped.

  “Isaac? Don’t tell me you followed me home.” Hands went to my hips and I glanced over my shoulder. “Man, you need to give a girl a little space!”

  Frank whirled around, growling and with his teeth bared, and I suddenly realized the chill on my neck, the feeling of eyes burrowing into my shoulders. The decidedly un-Isaac-like silence. I followed the dog’s attention, seeing nothing but shadows. The certainty of another’s presence hit me right in the gut and I lengthened my stride when I lurched forward.

  “Okay, there, Frankie boy,” I called out loudly, voice trembling. “It’s time to go home now. Enough fun for one day.”

  A buzz whipped past my ear and I whirled in time to see wood chips fly from the trunk of a pine tree to my right. I held a hand out to keep Frank in place bef
ore bending to inspect the damage. Smoke rose from a hole in the bark, metal glinting in the dappled sunlight.

  “Oh, shit.” The words were out a split second before the second bullet came flying. Birds exploded in fright from their perches overhead and I bolted.

  It wasn’t a truck this time, something tangible to outrun. Then I also had the benefit of four wheels and an engine to get me out of harm’s way. Here, I was in a labyrinth of shade and shadows. When I spared another glance over my shoulder I saw nothing. No one.

  “Frank, run!” I screamed. Lungs pumping, legs working harder than I’d ever asked of them before, I sprinted through the woods. A third bullet flew by a foot away from my right shoulder. A scream burned the lining of my throat, a desperate sound of terror I couldn’t hold inside. Panicked, I spun and zipped to the left. There was a thrashing sound behind me. Whoever it was, they were rushing through the trees and keeping pace no matter how fast I ran.

  “Frank!”

  The late summer heat turned to cold sweat along my skin and fear ran wild in my belly. Wind roared past my ears. My heart crashed into my ribs. The forest was alive with sound, cries coming from every direction at once.

  I burst out of the trees and waded into the high grass spreading through the fields around my property. My foot caught an errant stone, throwing my balance. I went down on my tailbone hard enough to see stars. Heaving forward, breath catching and pain ratcheting higher, I tried not to make a sound.

  Amidst the birds and forest creatures, I thought I caught the low echo of a laugh. Still in the tall grass, I lay down flat, not moving, hoping I was hidden from sight. Eons later, an automobile motor revved, speeding down the driveway.

  I wasn’t sure how long I lay there. Curled in the fetal position. Knowing I’d raced for my life. Soon my lungs and heart returned to normal and I no longer heard the pounding in my ears from my pulse.