Allie pressed her knuckles to her lips. What was she going to do? She couldn’t take much more. Worse, she knew something was desperately wrong with Star. She didn’t care what the doctor said, or her sister said, or anyone else. She knew in her heart this wasn’t right. They said babies couldn’t show emotion. But with the eyes of a mother, she’d seen the terror and confusion on her tiny daughter’s face.
Unaware of what she was doing, Allie gnawed on her knuckles.
Something was also desperately wrong with Cody. Even if she hadn’t known it before, she knew now, after the visits by both Cody and Roberta. An unfocused sense of guilt increased the burden of worry and fear she already carried. Guilt that somehow Star and Cody’s suffering were related. But how? And why? She couldn’t wait any longer.
Fired with the compulsion to do something, anything, now, she grabbed the portable phone from the coffee table and punched in the familiar numbers. She bit her lip as she waited through The Streeter’s recorded messages, then pressed the correct extension.
She stood up and started pacing as the phone rang once, twice, three times, then clicked over to voice mail. She groaned but left a terse message anyway. “Erik. This can’t go on. Come home.”
She punched the receiver and tried Erik’s cellular phone. After six rings, the familiar message intoned, “The client is away from the phone or outside the calling area. Please . . .”
She cut off the call and punched in the only number left to her—Erik’s pager. She opened her mouth to relay the message when a sharp, short scream rent the air. The ceiling overhead glowed with blue light.
She dropped the phone and ran to the bedroom.
Chapter 13
The hum of late rush hour/early evening traffic invaded Roberta’s top floor garden retreat. The squawk of a seagull broke through the hum, and Roberta glanced upward to see the errant bird circling in wide, lazy rings overhead.
She looked back at the file she was rereading for the dozenth time. When would Cody get home? She hadn’t managed to connect with him all day, and telephone tag was not her idea of a meaningful conversation.
She picked up the last clipping in the file, the one summarizing the known events of Cody’s disappearance and return, but she didn’t read it. Instead, she replayed the unsettling visit with Allie this morning.
Roberta had been surprised by how frazzled and tense Allie had appeared, in contrast to their first meeting when she had glowed with the joy of motherhood. Even the baby hadn’t looked the same. Was it imagination, or had the child really looked as miserable and sickly this time as Roberta had thought? And why?
Roberta reviewed her conversation with Allie. She hadn’t actually learned much new this morning, other than the fact that Cody had already been there, asking the same questions about Erik and the psychic’s strange comments. He had obviously been more disturbed by Madame Carabini’s impressions than he had let on, which in itself was surprising.
But one note from this morning did jar. And that was Allie’s reaction to the fact that Cody had not only suffered a nausea attack when he held the baby, but seen a strange blue light.
Allie, though she had recovered quickly, had not only looked startled. She had looked scared. Truly, and deeply, frightened. Roberta was sure that wasn’t her imagination.
But why? Why would mention of a blue light provoke a reaction of fear? It was odd, of course, but not particularly frightening. Unless . . . .
Roberta chewed on the end of her pencil. Why, more than anything else, did she feel that Allie was hiding something? Allie had definitely been evasive whenever Erik was mentioned. But why?
With a shudder, Roberta remembered the two pictures painted by Erik. She couldn’t help wondering about the man who painted them. After seeing Garnet’s compelling alien head, people often thought he was strange. Well, after seeing Erik’s paintings, Roberta thought—
The sound of a sliding door banging shut broke into her thoughts. She straightened. Cody was home. Finally.
She picked up her chair and set it down beside the wall and hedge separating their gardens. She climbed onto the chair and looked over the hedge.
Cody stood at the parapet, his back to her, looking out towards the glittering waters of Lake Michigan. Roberta’s heart swelled as she took in the sight of his dark, shining hair, and strong, lean form. She didn’t remember ever feeling like this about anyone before.
She waved. “Hey. Cody!”
He turned towards her. In the shadow of his apartment, she couldn’t see the expression on his face. “Oh, hi,” he said.
Her senses jumped to alert. Something about his voice sounded . . . funny. “Are you okay?”
He laughed shortly. “Just the usual. You know. Tired. Nauseaous. Nightmares. Blurred Vision. Hearing voices in my head.”
“Hearing voices?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you that, did I?”
Roberta wished she could see his face. “No. When . . .”
“Meet me out in the hallway. We’ll go some place to talk.”
As Cody approached the hedge, Roberta noted the bleakness of his expression. He stopped two feet away.
“Give me a moment to change. We have a lot to talk about.”
Roberta’s chest tightened. She scrambled down from the chair.
* * *
During the two-block walk to the waterfront park, Roberta didn’t say a word. In sandals, a loose T-shirt and cutoffs, she trudged along beside Cody, not looking at him, not touching him.
Just as well, Cody told himself. When he told her to take a hike, she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him anyway.
He frowned. The scent of the perfume she wore assaulted his senses, just as the sight of her golden curls bobbing up and down took him places he could no longer justify going. Not even in his head. Not if he was going to do the right thing, something with which he’d had little experience.
He couldn’t resist glancing at Roberta. Her set expression told him the coming moments wouldn’t be easy. He knew her well enough—her trusting heart, her caring nature—to see that she might refuse to leave, offering to help him instead.
But he didn’t want her pity. He’d have to make it clear he was no good. He’d make it clear that he didn’t want her. That he was going downhill fast and didn’t plan on taking any passengers.
Far too quickly they crossed Lake Shore Drive and left the pavement for the grassy park bordering the white sand beaches of Lake Michigan. Cody glanced about. He spotted a concession stand, along with the telltale flock of scavenging seagulls circling overhead.
“You hungry?”
Roberta shook her head.
“Well, I am.” He knew he was using food as a delaying tactic. In previous times, he’d never found it difficult to brush off a woman. He simply stopped calling, stopped returning calls. He’d floated in and out of relationships, without effort, without thought, much as the ocean tides rose and receded, day by day.
But this was different. Roberta was different. Cody frowned. He wasn’t exactly sure why. He knew only that she deserved better.
Because he didn’t want to tell her to go away. He wanted her with him, in bed and out, every day. He liked everything about her, from the way she looked to her crazy ideas, to her loyalties to causes and to people. Even to undeserving people like her boss. Or me.
He lined up at the food counter.
“I’ll be over by the water.” Roberta stepped from the grass to the sand without a backward look. Cody watched as she slogged through the hot, dry sand to the water’s edge. She bent down and picked up something from the ground. It wasn’t until Cody saw her pull back her arm and throw, then saw the tiny splash far out in the water, that he realized what she was doing.
Throwing stones.
She wound up and tossed in another. Cody winced. It was ridiculous, but he felt as if each stone had been thrown at him.
After he paid for the food, he called to Roberta. She joined him on a grassy spot under
a leafy maple tree, no more than six feet from where the grass gave way to sand.
“Want some?” He offered fries and cola.
“No, thanks.”
He ate in gulps, in the silence between them conscious of the sound of each chew and swallow. A seagull, bolder than his brethren, approached their place in the grass. The bird darted in and grabbed a fry from the box.
“Get away.” Roberta waved at the bird. “Damn seagulls,” she muttered.
The hot dog and fries landed like lead in Cody’s stomach. He grimaced. Without looking at Roberta, he said, “You know, I’m like that seagull.”
“What?”
“I said I’m like that seagull. I snatch what I want and then fly onto the next prospect.”
Roberta toyed with the chain around her neck. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
He swallowed. The moment had arrived. “Yes. I’m trying to say that you were right to distrust me.”
She worked the fingers in her lap. Slowly she turned towards him, her round eyes questioning. “Why?”
He found it hard to look her in the eye when he was telling her the exact opposite of what he wanted to say. So he didn’t. It was far easier to spin his web looking out at the water, glittering with the sun low in the western sky.
“I wrote the conclusion to my series on UFOs and extraterrestrials today,” he said. “I wrote that nothing I’d seen, heard or read convinced me that aliens existed anywhere outside of the imagination. I wrote that some people genuinely believe they have had contact with aliens, and have been greatly disturbed by that experience. But I also wrote that there are other people and organizations—smart people—who are exploiting disturbed minds and fears simply to make money.”
Roberta’s lips pressed together, but she said nothing.
Cody pushed harder. “I wrote about how much money Garnet has made exploiting the alien/UFO issue.”
Roberta paled, but spoke quietly. “I know you don’t believe in UFOs and aliens. I’m used to that. And I told you before that I make money from Garnet’s books, too. You aren’t the first journalist to take a poke at Garnet on those grounds. You won’t be the last.”
Cody realized he would have to cut her even more deeply to turn her away.
“You were right about something else, too. I was a womanizer.” He paused. “I still am.”
Roberta’s head jerked towards him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The false words stuck in his throat. “Last night with you was fine. So was the time before. But I’m ready to move on.”
Her clear blue eyes clouded and filled with pain.
He felt as if he’d stabbed her. He was a heel, and if more proof was required, he’d provided it. But no matter. For Roberta’s own good, he needed to drive her away, and this would surely do it.
“I don’t believe you,” she said in a small voice.
“No?” He pressed home the advantage, his heart breaking. “Well, maybe you should call Tiffany. I’m going over to her place tonight.”
It was a blatant lie. But it worked.
Her lips parted, then shut. Tears formed in her round, blue eyes. “But I—”
Her voice ended on a sob. Without another word she sprang to her feet and sprinted down the beach, her sandals flapping on the sand.
* * *
Stunned, Cody watched Roberta running down the beach, sand flying.
He’d expected her to be angry. He’d expected disgust, revulsion even. Maybe she would slap him, throw a drink in his face.
But he hadn’t expected the deep, choking hurt he’d heard in her voice and read in her face. Was she blaming herself for some lack, for some inability to hang onto a man? A man who didn’t even begin to be good enough for her.
He scrambled to his feet. He had no doubt that Roberta was better off without him. But she deserved the truth, the real reasons why they needed to end the relationship. He cared about her too much to have her blaming herself for something that wasn’t of her making.
He yanked off his running shoes and set off down the beach after her. With squawks of delight, the waiting seagulls swooped down on his abandoned dinner.
Chapter 14
“Roberta, wait!”
“Go away!”
Cody winced. Though his long legs had helped him close the distance between them, he was still several yards behind her.
Panting, he surged forward. Less than two feet behind her, he grabbed her shoulders. She tried to shake him off. He hung on. She lost her footing and tumbled over, taking him with her.
The still-warm sand scraped their bare legs and shoulders. Roberta squirmed and tried to push Cody away. “Get off.”
“Stop squirming,” Cody panted between gasps for breath. “Someone’s going to think I’m attacking you and call the police.”
“Good,” Roberta hissed. “Then maybe they’ll arrest you.”
Forewarned by a movement of her leg, Cody repositioned himself to avoid a disabling knee in the groin. He held her wrists down and settled his body over hers.
Finally she lay still. Cody gazed down at her face. It was streaked with tears, but her eyes were stubbornly screwed shut.
Guilt hit him in the gut. He wanted to kiss her tears away and tell her everything would be fine now.
But he couldn’t do that.
He nudged her nose with his own, but she refused to open her eyes. “You don’t really want me in jail, do you?”
“Yes, I do. You’re a rat.”
“Okay. I agree with you. I’m a rat. And a lot worse. But not for the reasons you think. Not for the reasons I told you back there.”
Her eyes slanted open. He felt the pressure of her wrists as she tested his hold, then subsided again.
“I’m no good for you, Roberta,” he continued. “You should find someone else, but not because I don’t care about you. I do. A lot. Not because I don’t respect your work. I don’t believe in aliens, but I respect everything about you. I could never do anything else.”
Her eyes widened and he saw himself reflected in the deep pools of blue. Her lips, pink and soft, parted. For a long moment he gazed into her eyes, drinking in the wonder and longing he saw there. He wanted to lose himself in those eyes. He wanted to forget his plans, ignore what was right and what was wrong, forget about what was best for the both of them.
Slowly, gently, he lowered his lips to her face. He kissed her nose, then the salty tears on her cheeks. His lips found hers, and he kissed her long and hard, with all the passion and need and want pent up inside. For one long moment he let all the joy he had found in Roberta pour forth without fear of the consequences. One last long kiss . . . .
Unconsciously he released her wrists and cradled her head, the touch of her smooth skin on his firing his senses. The tentative touch of her hands on his bare arms made his heart leap and he tightened his grasp.
A child’s giggle, followed by a clear harrumph made him freeze.
“You’d think they’re old enough to know better.” A woman’s high-pitched voice censured. “Come on, Ashley. Bring Scotty along. We’ll move farther along the beach.”
A dog’s cold nose snuffled at Cody’s arm, then the swish of a tail as the dog joined its master a few feet away. The gritty sound of feet walking on sand quickly receded.
Nose to nose with Roberta, Cody opened his eyes. At the same moment she opened hers. Their eyes met, and they exploded in laughter.
Cody rolled to one side and sat up, wiping his eyes. Roberta sat up beside him, still laughing. “You’d think they’re old enough to know better,” she mimicked the woman’s accusing tone.
Cody grinned. “I don’t plan on ever knowing better.”
Their eyes met. His smile died. The light in Roberta’s eyes went out.
“I’m sorry, Roberta,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to hurt you like that. You don’t deserve that. I do care about you.”
She frowned.
“But that doesn’t mean we can kee
p seeing each other,” he continued. “I’m no good for you, but not for the reasons I told you earlier. Other reasons. Worse reasons. You deserve to know the truth.”
Roberta turned white. She stood up and brushed the sand off her knees. Her eyes were somber. “Well, then, I guess we’d better get started.” She glanced at his bare feet. “After we collect your shoes.”
She turned and started back down the beach. Cody rose and caught up with her.
* * *
After they collected Cody’s shoes and disposed of what the seagulls had left of his dinner, they set off down the beach in the direction from which they had just come. The rays of the sun, low in the western sky, gilded the water, but it was still light.
Roberta removed her sandals and walked in the wet sand at the water’s edge. Cody, swinging his shoes by the laces, walked beside her.
They continued in silence for several moments. Far out to the horizon, Roberta noticed two lakers, bright pinpricks of light, approaching each other from opposite directions. She watched as they appeared to meet, one momentarily blotting the other from view and then reappearing on the other side. The space between them widened quickly as they continued on their separate ways.
Just like Cody and me. Tears sprang to her eyes as the unwanted thought bulldozed its way into her head. She bit her lip and blinked away the tears. No. I won’t let it be like that. I won’t. I can’t let it be like that.
She jumped when Cody’s grave voice interrupted. “I don’t have a date with Tiffany. I’m not the least bit interested in her.”
“What? Oh, Tiffany.” Roberta turned to look at Cody. She had to block the sun from her eyes with her hand. “I never really believed that.”
“We still have to stop seeing each other.”
Roberta headed away from the water and to the grassy section of the park where the maples, oaks and willows offered some protection from the blinding rays of the setting sun.
When she reached the grass she stopped, turned and planted her feet. “Why?”
Cody sighed. “Look at me, Roberta. I’m so tired from lack of sleep I’m almost comatose. I have attacks of nausea several times a day, to the point where it’s getting too dangerous to drive my car. I’m not a well man.”
Crazy in Chicago Page 18
