Frustrated, he refastened the lids on the crates and trunks they had opened. For a few minutes he lingered in the attic, not knowing what to do to alleviate the tension between Lara and him. Finally, he gave up and made a slow descent through the house to the first floor.
He found her in the kitchen.
Looking up from a sink full of dishes, she asked, “Would you like another cup of coffee?”
Noting that she didn’t smile when she issued the invitation, he shook his head. “I think I’d better get going. Got to stick to that writing schedule.”
“Right.”
“Maybe we can go through more of the letters another time, once we’ve had time to digest what we found today.”
She nodded, again not smiling.
They said good-bye without ceremony, then she turned back to the dishes. He walked out to the front door on his own. With each time he came over, he observed, she showed less reluctance to see him go.
As he stepped out onto the porch, a car pulled into the driveway. A woman got out of the door facing him: the passenger side. From the driver’s side, a man emerged. Both had brown hair and fit bodies and looked about Mark’s age.
The couple came up the walk and reached the porch steps at the same time he did, so he stood back, waiting for them to pass. When the woman looked up, noticing him for the first time, he realized that he knew her from somewhere.
“Mark Vereker, right?” She gave him a wide smile. “You and I went to school together. I’m Diane Golden.”
“Oh, right.” His memory flooded back. She’d been a few pounds heavier in high school, he thought; otherwise, he would have known her immediately. He remembered she’d been a friendly, funny girl. “Of course, Diane...from Ms. Hendricks’ ninth-grade English class.”
“Exactly.” She motioned toward the man beside her. “This is my husband, Jerry Lyons.”
The two men shook hands and exchanged greetings.
“Lara and I are good friends,” Diane went on. “We work together at the high school. She mentioned she had met you.”
“Really?”
She gave him a small smile, almost a sly one, and nodded. “Yeah, I noticed your book on her table the other day, so she explained how she happened to have it.”
“Di and I are on our way down to Cape Hatteras on vacation,” her husband cut in, giving her a pointed look.
“We sure are--in just a minute.” She laughed and looked back at Mark. “This morning I remembered I’d lent Lara my raincoat, and I may need it during the week. Hurricane season is starting.”
“The forecast is perfectly clear,” her husband said, shaking his head. “But this gives you one last chance to try to talk Lara into coming along.”
“That, too,” she admitted.
“Well, don’t spend too much time doing it. I want to get out on the road as soon as possible. We should have left early this morning.”
“Then I’d better get inside. If you’ll excuse me, Mark.” She slipped past him. As she opened the door and let herself in, she added, “Nice seeing you again.”
“You, too.”
“So,” her husband said, before Mark could make his own excuses and get away, “I hear you’re helping Lara with her house. You’re with the historical society?”
“Yeah, I was. I mean, I am, but today I came by more as a friend.”
Diane’s husband looked at him more closely, but if he didn’t take the comment at face value, he pretended he had. “Have you two come up with any new ideas for her studio?”
The question surprised him. He wondered why the man would expect them to. “We didn’t get a chance to talk about it.”
“That’s funny. Whenever I’ve been around her for the last six months, the studio is about all she’s talked about. I guess she’s holding off work on it since you made her think twice about knocking out that wall.”
“What?” The remark practically knocked him over. Chatting with this guy suddenly seemed a lot more interesting. “I had no idea she’d changed her mind.”
“She didn’t tell you?” He hesitated. “I hope I wasn’t supposed to keep my mouth shut, but I can’t imagine why I would be. I know she’s having a hard time coming up with an alternative plan. Maybe she hasn’t said anything to you because she doesn’t know what she’s going to do yet.”
“Probably.” Mark was too excited to carry on a decent conversation. This news changed everything. Lara really had listened to what he had to say. She’d understood his feelings and taken them to heart. “I’ll have to try to come up with some suggestions.”
The thought, he knew, was a bit premature. She wouldn’t want advice from him after the pompous way he’d presented his ideas in the past. In fact, their clashes of opinion might be the reason she hadn’t told him she’d changed her mind. Getting her to open up to him again would probably take some work. Now he really wished he hadn’t been so remote today.
“You may have all week to do it,” Jerry Lyons said. “If Di gets her way, Lara will be coming to Cape Hatteras with us.”
“Oh.” His bubble deflated somewhat. Now that he knew he had gotten through to Lara, he didn’t want to wait a week to see her again, especially after he’d made such a mess out of today. He frowned. “She isn’t likely to go at the last minute like this, is she?”
The man smiled slightly, probably amused by the wistful note in his tone. “Lara can be pretty spontaneous. And Di says that lately she’s been uncomfortable alone in the house. If you ask me, a week with nothing to do but lie on the beach would be the perfect thing to relax her.”
Remembering how scared she’d been the night of the storm, Mark could imagine her accepting the invitation. He pictured her on a beach in North Carolina, looking great in a bikini. It was a sight he’d like to see...and so would other men. What if she met someone she liked down there? By the time she got back home, he might have lost his only chance with her.
“It’s been nice meeting you.” Jerry held out his hand.
He tried to think of a way to keep the conversation going or an excuse to go back into the house and prevent Lara from leaving on vacation. Nothing came to him, so he gave in and shook the man’s hand. “You, too.”
Jerry strode into the house as if he owned the place.
Envious, Mark walked slowly out to his car. He dawdled beside the door, fiddling with his keys, hoping to see the couple come back out and leave without Lara.
He killed another five minutes pretending to look for something in the trunk. The longer the others stayed inside, the more it looked like she had decided to go and was getting ready. No one came out, and he felt more and more foolish with each passing minute.
Finally he got behind the wheel and started up the engine. He took his time pulling out into the street, continually glancing back toward the porch.
When he drove away and the house passed out of sight, the situation felt hopeless. Lara had more than one reason to go with her friends. If her fear of ghosts didn’t drive her out of the house, his behavior today might well have convinced her she needed a break from him.
All the way home he stewed to himself. If he’d known earlier this morning that she had second thoughts about the wall, he wasn’t sure he would have brought up the topic, but he certainly would have had a different outlook. Instead of confirming her view of him as sulky, he might have shown her a more easy-going side of his personality. He might even have experienced the carefree day he’d dreamed of before Paula Nesbitt’s reminders had soured his expectations.
Damn Karen and her interfering friends! And damn himself for paying the least bit of attention to what they had to say.
To think that now he might not have contact with Lara for another week frustrated him, and not knowing for sure was even worse. By the time he reached his apartment building, he knew he had to come up with some reason to call her as soon as possible. He needed to know whether she was leaving town or not.
An idea finally came to him, based on her interest in
his ancestor. He felt sure that with a little effort he could dig up some juicy family story about Geoff.
Starting the engine again, he pulled back out of the parking lot. He would pick up his copy of Geoffrey Vereker’s biography at his parents’ house and pump them for information. His father usually had some good family stories. As soon as he got back, he would give Lara a call.
The only problem with the plan lay there, he acknowledged with a frown. If she wasn’t home when he called, he didn’t know what he would do.
Too bad he didn’t have a good reason to show up in Cape Hatteras.
Chapter 11
Diane leaned out of the kitchen into the main hall, peering toward the front of the house.
“Here comes Jerry now,” she said over her shoulder to Lara. She turned back around and slumped against the door jamb. “Damn. He doesn’t have Mark with him.”
Lara pursed her lips. Looking away from her friend, she picked up a plate to dry. “I told you that Mark was acting standoffish again today. I knew he wouldn’t come back in. Jerry may be a personable guy, but he can’t work miracles.”
“Hello, ladies,” the man in question greeted them as he stepped around his wife. He looked at her and then to Lara. “So, what’s your final decision, kiddo? Are you coming with us?”
“Sorry, but I can’t.” She forced a smile. After the morning she’d had, she was tempted to grab a bag and run away, but she didn’t think the company of two happy couples would bring her much consolation. She would only be reminded twenty-four hours a day of her own failures in love. “I appreciate the offer, but I really have too much to do around here.”
“Are you sure?” He gave her a worried look. “Di tells me that lately you’ve been uneasy here on your own. She says you’ve even been dreaming up ideas about having a ghost. A houseful of friends might be just the thing for you.”
But not a houseful of couples, she thought. “I’ll be okay. I need to work out this ghost thing for myself.”
Di nudged closer to her husband, gazing up at him with a shrewd smile. “Now let’s get to the really important point, honey. You were out on the porch with Mark Vereker for ten minutes. What were you two talking about?”
“Not much.” He glanced at Lara then looked away from both women, clearly uncomfortable with the role of go-between. “Mostly his work with the historical board.”
“Never mind,” Lara said. She finished drying her plate and stowed it in a cabinet above the sink. “We aren’t in high school anymore. I wasn’t expecting you to try to find out whether or not the guy likes me.”
“I was,” her friend objected. “Did he say anything at all about her?”
Jerry avoided his wife’s gaze. “Nothing significant.”
“As if you would know what’s significant and what isn’t!” She swatted his arm. “You men have no insight when it comes to matters of the heart. Tell me every word that passed between you, and let me decide for myself.”
“Look, Diane,” he said, his eyebrows crunching together, “You may like matchmaking, but please leave me out of this. If I run into that guy again, I don’t want to feel like I’ve been plotting behind his back, and I don’t want to have to worry about what I can and can’t say to him.”
“I never asked you to go to any great lengths--”
“But you make me feel like a spy,” he interrupted. “You get carried away with this stuff. Now, I’m going out and checking the tire pressure on the carJuly 28, 2006. When you’re ready to go, meet me out front.”
Giving his wife a last stern look, he left the kitchen.
Di turned to Lara and rolled her eyes. “Men! I don’t know what the big deal is.”
She shrugged, privately eager to change the subject. Wiping her hands dry, she hung up the towel. “I’d better run upstairs and find that raincoat for you.”
“Thanks. I’ll run outside and tell Jerry I’ll be ready in a minute--before he finds another reason to be annoyed with me.” She exited the room into the hall.
Climbing up the back stairs, Lara shook her head to herself. Thank goodness Jerry refused to go along with his wife’s schemes. The one thing worse than having no love life was having everyone around trying to arrange one for you.
She had just located the raincoat in her bedroom closet when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
“It’s just me--not a ghost,” her friend called from the hallway. She walked in and sat down at the foot of the bed. “Oh, good, you found it.”
“No problem.” Lara folded the jacket carefully to make packing it easier for Di.
“Jerry’s better now. I promised him that in the future I wouldn’t prompt him with any questions to ask Mark or tell him anything confidential about your feelings.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Di lay back flat on the bed. “I also managed to wheedle an encouraging scrap of information from him. He said that while he was talking to Mark, he happened to mention that you might be coming to Cape Hatteras with us. According to him, the news seemed to make your boy a little anxious. Jerry says Mark pressed him for reassurance that you weren’t likely to go at a minute’s notice. When Jerry told him what a spontaneous person you are, he didn’t look happy.”
The third-hand intelligence didn’t strike Lara as overly reliable. Besides, Mark hadn’t looked happy all morning, including when she’d invited him to come over again. She held out the folded jacket to her friend. “Wonderful, but what good does it do me to have him think I’m out of town for a week? Now if he actually gets the urge to call me, he’ll figure I can’t be reached.”
“The point is that he seemed disappointed that you wouldn’t be around. He wants to see you.” Di got up, tucking her package under one arm. “Besides, you don’t have to wait around for him to call. Come up with a reason to contact him.”
Lara shut the closet door. “I’ll keep it in mind, but I’m not eager for another dose of the cold shoulder.”
“Oh, come on, you’re exaggerating. He’s shown a lot of interest in you--and if you’re subtle enough, you can pursue him without him even realizing it. I still say you should get involved with the historical society. They could probably use an artist on their team.”
Lara shook her head, leading the way out of the bedroom. “No offense, but if I showed up at a meeting of the historical society, I think it would be pretty obvious I’m chasing him. And with my luck, he probably wouldn’t even be there. I learned back in high school that pre-planned ‘chance encounters’ always seem to backfire.”
“They worked for me with Jerry in college. When I saw him behind the counter in the music shop, I suddenly became a regular customer. After I’d come in a couple of times asking for his expert opinions, he started lending me tapes from his own collection. I showed up one Saturday night right before closing time, and it ended up being our first date.”
“I remember the story.” Lara wasn’t convinced but knew if she said so her friend would only treat her to more successful case histories.
When they came down into the kitchen again, Di let out a yelp of surprise. She hurried over to one corner of the counter by the sink and picked up a man’s watch. “Hey, this isn’t yours, is it?”
Butterflies stirred in Lara’s stomach. Mark must have taken it off when he’d helped her clear the dishes. “It must be his.”
“Perfect! You can take it over to his place tonight or tomorrow.”
“No way.” She grabbed the watch and put it back on the counter top. “Now stop nagging me. How does Jerry get you to promise to drop these uncomfortable subjects? I think I could learn a lesson from him.”
Di said nothing else, but as they walked out of the kitchen she glanced at the watch again, then gave Lara a meaningful smile.
Lara just turned away.
After her friends had at last set out on the road, she looked around the house and wondered what job to begin with. The overload of tasks on her list of things to do made it hard to get moving on anything. Worst
of all, she didn’t seem to have any creative energy. Though sunlight streamed in the windows, making the house look cheery and ghost-free, the empty rooms left her feeling lonely. She was used to seeing or talking to Di almost every day. With her best friend on vacation, the week ahead would be a long one.
Not in the mood to paint, she occupied herself for a while straightening and cleaning the downstairs rooms. While dusting the parlor, she noticed the original love letter Mark had found, still lying on the window seat. Since that first day, she’d been afraid to touch it, but in broad daylight the piece of paper
looked harmless.
She set down her dust rag and tentatively picked up the note. Luckily, she didn’t feel any strange rush of cold. Unfolding the paper, she skimmed through the contents. The words that had charmed her the first time around sounded empty now that she knew how the story ended.
“Mark was right from the start,” she said to herself. “‘G’ was a snake.”
A soft sound pricked up her ears. She thought she heard a man’s voice whisper, “I didn’t know...” The phenomenon happened so quickly she couldn’t tell whether it was real or a figment of her imagination. Goose bumps rose on her arms, but she didn’t feel the chill she’d associated with the ghost before.
“Didn’t know what?” she asked the air.
She stood still, listening carefully, but silence filled the room. The voice had to have been in her head. She remembered hearing a similar sound in the secret room the night of the storm, but she hadn’t been able to identify it as a voice. This time she had a definite impression of a man speaking. Not Mariah, she noted, surprised.
Thinking of that night, she realized she’d forgotten all about the poem in Mariah’s letter to “G.” What had it been about? At the time, she’d had enough emotional trauma for one night and hadn’t even wanted to hear the rest of the letter. Now she wondered if it could be significant.
She went to the kitchen, where she’d left the photocopy Mark had brought her. Skipping down the page, she reached the poem:
Eternally Yours Page 13
