Her cell phone sang out its ringtone. Livie scooped it up. Toni’s number flashed on the screen. Livie had left a couple of messages to check on her. She wouldn’t let Toni rule her actions anymore, but she also didn’t intend to cut her sister out of her life. There had to be a happy medium.
Yet a little voice inside asked, What about the snake in your car? And another whispered, She killed you in a past life.
“Hi,” she said, answering as pleasantly as possible. “How are you doing?”
“Look, I just need you to give me a break, okay.”
It was going to be one of those calls. “I only called twice.”
“Well, I don’t want you checking up on me,” Toni snapped. “I need a break from you and that man and everything you’ve done.”
“Toni, I haven’t—”
Her sister didn’t let her finish. “I knew you’d deny it.”
Livie remembered all the times she’d tried to explain that things weren’t the way Toni believed, that she hadn’t tried to steal her boyfriend, and on and on for every slight Toni imagined she’d sustained. This time Livie wasn’t explaining anything. “Did you put that snake in my car?” Did you stand by and let the cottonmouths bite me until I died?
“What are you talking about?” But her sister made an infinitesimal hesitation because Livie never accused, never questioned.
“It could only have been you, Toni. Did you even think that if I’d been driving when I first saw it, I would have had an accident?”
“You’re always accusing me of the most ridiculous things.”
She knew her sister would never admit it. “I love you”—did she really?—“but I can’t put up with this anymore. I’ll be seeing a lot more of Bern. You’ll have to accept that.”
“Fine. You’re seeing him. Big deal. I don’t care. But I want a break. Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”
“All right. But I’m here if you need me.”
“I don’t need you.”
In days of old, her ears would have been ringing with the slam of the receiver. Now there was simply nothing. Toni was gone. And God help her, Livie actually felt relieved.
She pushed Bern’s new speed-dial number. She knew exactly what she wanted from him. “Let’s celebrate,” she said when he answered.
“You just name how.” He didn’t ask why or what for.
“Take me away for the weekend.”
That got him. He was silent.
“Mendocino maybe.” If they left straight from work, it would take only a couple of hours.
“I need to make a trip up to Freedom to see my mom. Would you come with me?”
“You want me to meet your mother?” A giddy little thrill streaked through her.
“It will probably end up being my whole family.”
Okay, the thrill was also accompanied by a slight sense of panic. “Well…”
She’d been sleeping with him for a week. Her sister has just cut her out of her life because of him. And she’d revealed all her dirty little secrets while under hypnosis. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but she’d certainly come a hell of a long way with him. Why not take this next step, too?
“All right. Yes. That would be great.”
She thought she heard a sigh of relief before he said, “Have you got everything you need in the bag you packed?”
“Yes.” A pair of shoes, jeans, panties, various sundries, a couple of shirts. Enough for the weekend.
“I’ve got some stuff here that I keep for quick trips. Let’s do it, Livie, let’s get out of town for the weekend.”
It sounded as if they were running away. Maybe they were. Livie didn’t care. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to run away with him.
* * * * *
In the end, Livie was able to get away by four o’clock, something about having solved a major quarter-end issue. Bern couldn’t believe his luck. She’d been the one to suggest the trip. True, he’d turned it into an excursion to Freedom, but his main concern had been making sure she was far away from her sister.
“It’s gorgeous,” Livie said as they pulled into the circular drive in front of his brother’s house.
They’d come in through tree-lined streets with kids playing in yards, riding bikes, shooting hoops. The houses were big and set far back from the road, the lots meant for large families. In Freedom, parents weren’t afraid to let their kids play until the last of the daylight faded. It hadn’t changed since his childhood.
On the edge of town, Wade’s home was at the end of the street. The forest rose beyond it, and if you walked deep into the trees, you’d come to an old stone quarry that had been a favorite hang-out for teenagers. The massive two-story farmhouse had a wraparound porch, a swing hanging to the left of the front door, and dormer windows along the second floor’s roofline. The property having been in her family since the early 1900s, Clare, Wade’s wife, had taken over the homestead when her parents moved to Florida. The only condition had been that her grandmother would continue to live with them. Clare’s older sister Joni hadn’t wanted the responsibility, but Clare and Wade had been glad to do it. At eighty-nine, Nana was a kick, but she’d started having a few memory blips. Once she’d been convinced Bern was some guy named George whom she’d known prior to World War Two. Even at seventy, his own mother was young enough to be Nana’s daughter. And that’s exactly how Nana treated her.
“I wish they hadn’t held dinner for us.” Livie glanced at her watch. “It’s after seven.”
Despite leaving at four, the traffic out of the city had still been a bitch, then they’d hit the tail end of the commute in Sacramento.
“They eat late,” he said.
Livie was nervous about meeting his entire family. He was pushing again, but they’d known each other forever, right? He’d already waited too damn long to make her a part of this life.
“I booked a room at Marchant’s guesthouse, so we can leave after dinner.” He hoped that would ease her tension.
Some day, if things worked his way, he’d like to move back to Freedom. He missed small-town life. Wade had made a go of his business here. He traveled for some of his projects, but Freedom worked well as his home base. Bern could imagine having the same kind of life with Livie.
Clare was the first out on the porch. “I’m so glad you made it. Nothing special for dinner, just lasagna, salad, and garlic bread.”
She gave him a hearty hug. Clare was a pretty, petite blonde who seemed far younger than her forty years. He liked her, but he’d always thought she tried too hard, as if she had to make sure everything was perfect, the perfect wife to Wade, the perfect mother to their daughter Amber. Clare never got angry, always smiling, yet a tension ran below the surface. When Amber left for college at the end of August, he’d seen the first crack in Clare’s façade. Now her blue eyes seemed almost manic.
Livie hung back at the bottom of the steps. Bern leaned down to take her hand. He had the sense that if he wasn’t touching her, she’d run. Then he was making introductions. Wade had come out, along with Jake, Mom, Nana. Clare’s grandmother didn’t top four-eight.
Instead of mounting in the midst of all the enthusiasm, Livie’s tension seemed to recede, and she answered everyone at once, not forgetting a single question or name.
“It’s nice to meet you. Lasagna sounds wonderful. No, the drive wasn’t bad at all. And gosh, yes, Freedom is a lovely little town. Very quaint, sort of New Englandish with all the trees starting to change color.”
Christ, he was proud of her. His mom squeezed his hand, gave him a pointed mother look which asked, Is she the one and when can I expect grandchildren? She only had Susan’s two boys and Amber. That wasn’t enough for his mother. He had her smile, or so he’d been told, Wade had her brown eyes, Jake had her sandy hair—though his mother’s was white now and curled into a tight perm. And Suze, well, hell, she could have been a foundling.
“Oh my goodness, Myra.” Nana grabbed Livie’s hand in her gnarled fingers and peered
up into her face. “It’s been years and years and years.”
Livie smiled, letting Nana call her whatever she wanted. But Clare stooped to put her arm around her grandmother’s shoulders. “This is Livie. We don’t know anyone named Myra.”
“Don’t be silly, girl.” Then she looked straight at Bern. “Tell them, George.”
“That’s Bern, Nana,” Wade said. “You know him.”
“Of course I know him, young man. George. He went away to war.” She tipped her head, peered up at Bern. “I thought you’d died. Didn’t know you’d made it back.”
The last time she’d called him George, it had been a joke. But now Livie was Myra, and Nana was convinced they knew each other. A week ago, he would have said she was having one of her senior moments.
Jake was giving him a penetrating look.
Bern felt something skitter across his nerve endings. Suddenly nothing was a joke anymore. Not since Livie had said her name was Chad and called him Hadden.
* * * * *
Bern sat at the opposite end of the table deep in conversation with his brother Wade about the project they were working together. Livie was actually enjoying herself. She came from a small family, just her sister, Mom, Dad. They didn’t have any relatives. They’d moved around a lot and the family on their father’s side was back in England. Mom was an orphan. But Bern’s family was…God, they were amazing. Livie loved it. They all talked at once, over each other, laughed, joked. They asked personal questions. And they accepted her. Even though she’d had to admit that she’d only known Bern for a week.
The house was old but well maintained, with hardwood floors throughout. The kitchen door swung back and forth every time Clare nipped out to retrieve some new tasty dish or bring a fresh basket of bread. The oak dining table was massive and fit them all with room to spare. And the food was excellent. Livie had paid her share of compliments.
“Bern said you work in San Francisco.” Clare was seated on the end, to Livie’s left.
“Yes. I’m in customer service.”
“That must be exciting.”
It wasn’t, but Livie appreciated the throw-away comment.
“Clare’s never worked in her life,” Nana said across the table.
“Being a mother and a housewife is hard work,” Bern’s mom said in defense. Her heart-shaped face matched her name, Valentine, though she used the shortened version, Val.
“I know that,” Nana groused. “I was making”—she air-quoted—“conversation.”
Clare just smiled, seemingly unoffended, as the two elderly ladies nattered at each other.
“So Myra, how’s your sister doing?” Nana asked.
Clare and Jake, seated on either side of Livie, both spoke at once. “She’s Livie.”
“I don’t mind,” Livie said. The old woman was interesting. One minute she made complete sense, the next she was off on a tangent. She was a hoot, though, with a mixture of old-fashioned and twenty-first-century Valley-girl vernacular.
Jake leaned close, lowering his voice. “She’s sweet and harmless.” He was younger than Bern by three years, his skin tanned from outdoor work. On the drive, Bern had listed off his family members’ stats for her. Jake was a contractor.
“I can hear you,” Nana singsonged.
“Have some more bread.” Wade passed the basket as if trying to draw her attention. Perhaps he was embarrassed. He was next in line to Bern. They looked alike, same dark hair and similar facial features, though his eyes were brown rather than Bern’s compelling shade.
Nana popped up to grab a piece of bread. “You know, I never did like your sister, Myra. She could be quite the bitch.”
“Nana,” Clare said sharply, but Livie detected a crease of laughter on her lips.
“I’m only speaking the truth,” Nana said defensively.
“Nana,” Wade said, his voice commanding. “Her name isn’t Myra. And we don’t even know if she has a sister.”
“I do,” Livie said. And yes, Toni could be quite the bitch. Livie felt a little bubble of laughter. She caught Bern’s eye. His gaze had an answering sparkle, and she knew he was thinking the same thing, that Nana wasn’t far off the mark.
“So you have one sister? More? Any brothers?” Bern’s mom went on with the conversation—or distraction.
“Just one sister. No brothers.”
“I could have told you that,” Nana groused.
“And your parents?” Val ignored the older lady.
“My mom’s in Palm Springs, and my father passed away a few years ago.”
“Oh my dear, I’m so sorry.”
Livie smiled her thanks.
“Are you close to your sister?” Bern’s mom continued. She asked with real interest, far from an inquisition.
Nana snorted. “They hate each other.”
For the first time, Livie felt uncomfortable. Nana was a little too close to the truth.
“Quit pestering her,” Clare singsonged in exactly the same tone Nana had used earlier.
“I’m not pestering,” Nana protested. “I’m just asking. It’s been years, and I want to get caught up on the gossip.”
“Amber’s enjoying college life,” Clare said, breaking the stalemate with her grandmother. “She has a very nice roommate.”
“That’s nice for her, dear,” her mother-in-law answered. “I’m glad she’s making friends down there.” Val turned to Livie. “Amber’s at Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo. Her first year. She’s studying architecture like her uncle.”
“Would you like some more lasagna?” Clare asked, noticing Livie’s plate was empty.
“Thank you.”
There was silence a moment as Clare served.
“I’ve got a feeling Dorie’s coming home soon,” Nana said into the quiet.
It was as if everyone stopped in midmotion. The lasagna slid off Clare’s spatula. Jake’s knife clattered to his plate. Wade made a noise that could have been a growl. And Bern was looking at Livie.
“What?” Nana said like a naughty child who couldn’t figure out exactly what she’d done wrong. She looked at Jake. “If Myra can suddenly show up, it means things are happening, and Dorie could be here soon, too.”
Livie glanced to her right. Jake’s face paled beneath his tan. A muscle ticked along his jaw. Then, very slowly, he pushed his chair back, the legs scraping on the hardwood. His heavy boots smacked the floor as he strode from the room, and the screen door slapped behind him.
“What did I say?” Nana asked, her eyes wide and bewildered.
“You know what you said, Hazel, and that wasn’t nice.” Val pursed her lips. “We don’t talk about Dorie or any of that business.”
“I was just making conversation,” Nana muttered.
Okay, so, dinner wasn’t going as well as Livie had thought. She’d stepped into something, she just didn’t know exactly what.
Chapter Nineteen
“Who’s Dorie?” Livie asked.
After Jake had left, they’d limped along with dessert and coffee. Nana had gone to bed early, and Clare had apologized profusely. Then Bern hustled Livie here to the top room in Marchant’s, a quaint little B&B owned by one of Clare’s high school girlfriends.
Bern had known Livie would want an explanation, but right now? She straddled him, and he was buried to the hilt inside her. He could barely think, let alone talk about Dorie and his brother. “Couldn’t we discuss this later?”
“No time like the present,” she quipped, then leaned down with her hands braced on either side of his head, her hair falling around him as she captured his lips.
God, she tasted sweet. And he loved her mood. Even the uncomfortable aftermath of Jake’s departure hadn’t turned her sour. It was as if the regression and her sister’s break with her had whisked away that clouds that hung over her.
She rubbed her nose to his. “You can’t run away from me right now. You’re my prisoner.” She flexed her muscles around him, driving him crazy.
He’d never
run from her. He’d never let her go. But she was enjoying the woman on top position too much. Bern grabbed her hips and rolled until she was pinned beneath him.
Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight striping the bed. “Cheater.”
He pushed a hand between them and stroked her as he pumped slowly inside her.
Livie gasped. “Oh, that’s really cheating, you monster.” She writhed under him.
“Nice and slow, baby. Just the way you like it.”
“Bern,” she whispered, trailing her hands up his arms, gripping his biceps, digging her nails in as her pleasure rose. He loved the sigh of his name from her lips.
“George,” she whispered with a ghost of a smile.
“Myra.”
“Hadden.”
“I’m not calling you Chad,” he declared.
She was laughing, and his heart contracted in his chest. Would that she always laughed like that. Would that the ghosts and shadows of her past, both their pasts, left them forever so that she could always laugh.
He pulled back onto his haunches, hauled her legs over his.
“Oh my God.” She closed her eyes in her bliss. “That is so good.”
It was the perfect position to hit her G-spot with a slow, steady stroke. “Now what was it you wanted to know about Dorie?” he asked.
She laughed, then groaned. “You win, you win. Don’t stop.”
It wasn’t in him to stop. “Touch yourself,” he told her.
It was the perfect combination. Her body twitched and trembled. She screwed her eyes tightly shut, parted her lips on a sexy little moan that tightened his entire body. It was all he could do not to pound into her, but he wouldn’t, not until she was on the precipice. That’s when she’d want it fast and hard.
The four-poster creaked and groaned beneath them, and her soft pleasure sounds filled the room. He didn’t care if anyone heard, if everyone knew. There was only her, splayed before him in the moonlight. She was a master’s painting, a sculptor’s masterpiece.
Twisted By Love, Reincarnation Tales, Book 1 Page 15
