by Lee Damon
"Delightful, I'm sure. Of course, I can always talk to Hero," Kitt teased. "You wouldn't consider bribing me to go to the movies, would you?"
"Funny, funny." Ez leaned to kiss her cheek. "I'll probably settle for sending you to bed early." He dodged her swinging hand and ran, laughing, down the stairs.
Later, Kitt strolled along Ocean Avenue with Hero pacing beside her. She was tired but relaxed and content, thinking about all they had accomplished that day, her first new friends, the quick rapport she had felt with Midge despite their age difference. She smiled to herself at a mental picture of big Ez holding off an infuriated Midge. It should be fun to see how that develops, she thought. She's certainly going to be a lively addition to the shop, and she likes books as much as I do.
It was very quiet. Kennebunkport was an old summer resort town which boomed in the season with summer residents and thousands of tourists. Off-season, it had the aura of a peaceful fishing village, although in recent years enough activity had developed on the weekends to make it worthwhile for resident owners to keep their shops open all year.
This end of Ocean Avenue was lined on both sides by one- and two-story frame buildings. There were old houses that were still maintained as individual residences; others had been converted into small shops or, as in Kitt's case, into a combination of shop and residence. Several of the buildings had started life many years ago as fishing shacks and small boathouses, and had evolved into restaurants, shops or imaginative living quarters. A very few of the buildings were new, but even they had been designed to blend in with the nineteenth-century aura of the village.
As she walked along the side of the road, Kitt noted a lighted window here and there indicating permanent residences, but also noticed that the majority of buildings were obviously still shut up for the winter. Only a few of the yards showed signs of tending, and not many of the shops had their signboards up.
She could hear her footsteps echoing back from the empty buildings at the end of the road where Ocean Avenue turned sharply to the right and then almost immediately made a sharp left turn into Dock Square. Hero's nails clicked against the pavement in counterpoint to the murmur of the river. Gravel crunched as they crossed the parking area to the stairs angling up the side of the building to the rear deck. Hero leaped up the steps, nimble-footed as a cat, and sat by the sliding glass doors waiting for Kitt.
She stepped onto the deck and strolled across to stand at the railing, facing the river and absorbing the peace and solitude along with lungfuls of salt air. Her body was utterly relaxed, her mind drifting among cloudy visions of the future—a misty picture of the shop filled with customers, an impression of lazing on a white beach, a fleeting glimpse of Hero romping in the backyard.
She turned to go in, feeling a welling of excitement at the thought that tomorrow would be the beginning of her carefully planned new life. But Kitt hadn't even the slightest premonition that before the week was over, her new life was going to be turned inside out.
Chapter 2
Shortly after seven o'clock on Friday morning, Kitt swung her dark blue Camaro into the parking area in front of the shop, pulling over to the far left near the outside stairs. She and Hero had been for an early morning run on Beach Road, and both were now more than ready for breakfast.
Kitt got out of the car, motioning Hero to follow. She walked over to the edge of the lot bordering the road and turned to study the building with a satisfied smile. It had been a very busy week so far. Between unpacking household and personal belongings and reorganizing the bookshop, she had had little time for quiet contemplation. It's beginning to shape up, thought Kitt, and will look even better when I get some flowers in along the front.
The building was old. Originally a private house, it had been remodeled several times in the course of 125 years. The last work had been done some six years previously by the Baxters, the couple from whom Kitt had bought the property and the business. They had obviously hired an architect to redesign the building, and he had used equal measures of imagination and practicality in doing so. The austere look of the typically plain, four-square coastal village house had been softened by the addition of large small-paned bow windows— two on the first floor, flanking the wide door, and two more on the second floor directly above them. The building was sided with gray weathered shingles; the shop door and exterior trim were painted a soft slate-blue.
Hands tucked in the pockets of her fleece-lined denim jacket, Kitt moved a few steps closer and examined the displays in the big shop windows.
I like it, she decided. Blessings on Midge for knowing about that collection of ship models. It was certainly nice of Mr. Everett to lend them. Should be an eyecatcher for the boat-people coming up over the next few weekends to get ready for the summer.
Her eyes traveled up to the second-floor windows. Like those below, they were six feet high and eight feet wide, taking up most of the front wallspace in the two bedrooms. Kitt stepped back a few paces to see how much was visible within the rooms. Well, that's not too bad, she thought. The plants fill up enough space to make it difficult to see details in the daytime, and the inside shutters work great at night. I'm glad I decided against drapes.
She started walking toward the stairs. "Hey, Hero, come on out of there! I just got those gardens spaded up, and I promise you there are no bones in them. Come on, now, I've got a lot to do today. Midge will be in at noon, and your favorite lap is landing in late this afternoon for the weekend. Surprise, surprise, can't imagine what the attraction is, can you?"
Kitt put in a fast-moving two hours after breakfast making up a bed for Ez in the spare room, giving the apartment a quick once-over with duster and vacuum, watering her jungle of plants and whipping up a couple of her twin's favorite pies. Just before ten, she was flipping on the lights and unlocking the front door of the shop.
Weekday mornings were still slow, so Kitt decided to tackle the deep cabinets under the work counter along the side wall behind the checkout desk. She had a strong feeling that there might be forgotten treasures in the far corners and, besides, with the summer rush coming up, she would definitely need that space. Midge had offered to clean out the cabinets, but Kitt felt that Midge's limited time would be better utilized in helping select summer stock for the shop.
Hero jumped up onto the folding director's chair kept behind the desk for his use and watched with apparent interest as Kitt started pulling things out of the cabinets. He was in a "talkative" mood that morning, and carried on a running "conversation" with Kitt as she commented on the degree of usefulness, fascination or worthlessness of her discoveries. Hero had an expressive voice. It rose and fell in tone, and combined a variety of sounds in different lengths with pauses in between, so that they sounded much like sentences. Occasionally, he even ended a combination on a rising note, much as a person would when asking a question.
Kitt was kneeling in front of the last cabinet, head and shoulders inside as she reached into the far corner, her voice muffled as she continued talking to Hero. She didn't hear the opening and closing of the door, and the firm footsteps coming across to the desk were softened by the carpeting.
Hero's remark of "Muruuroow arraoo" broke off abruptly. He came to his feet and watched, alert and tense, as the tall man leaned forward to place his hands flat on the desk. One corner of an expressive mouth twitched up in a half-smile, while deep sapphire-blue eyes gleamed appreciatively as they roved over the most visible part of Kitt—her slim but firmly rounded rump.
He watched silently as she wriggled backward on her knees to get room to pull her shoulders and head out of the cabinet. She sat back on her calves, straightening her body and lifting both hands to push her hair away from her face.
Still unaware of her silent admirer, Kitt waved a hand in a broad gesture, muttering, "Tell me, dog, what am I going to do with all this stuff? Hmmmm?" Hero growled softly. Kitt snapped her head around to look at him, and then half-turned to follow the direction of his stare.
S
he rose gracefully to her feet in one smooth motion and took a step forward, saying, "Sorry, I didn't hear you...." Her voice died in her throat; she stopped breathing, stopped moving altogether except for the slow widening of her eyes as she stared incredulously at the man leaning on the desk.
Ten seconds dragged by. His face now mirrored the expression on hers. Total silence. Then Kitt drew in a shallow breath, followed by a deeper one, and stepped forward, reaching out slowly to place the tip of one finger on his chin.
"O'Mara?" Softly questioning at first, Kitt's voice grew stronger as her face lit up with a delighted grin. "Oh, Lord, O'Mara! I don't believe it! Whatever are you doing here?"
He was laughing now and straightened up to his full height of six feet four, holding out both hands, palms up, to Kitt. He closed his hands tightly around hers and leaned back a bit to examine her admiringly from the toes of her soft suede ankle boots to the top of her tousled hair.
"The original Kittredge Tate, all grown up, and very nicely, too." The laughter trailed off and, suddenly intent, the deep blue eyes lingered on her face. It was only a matter of seconds, but in that time a long-suppressed empathy flared into new life, and he saw much more than she realized. "I'd say that sometime over the years you'd done some living." The deep voice was thoughtful and slightly questioning.
"Well, it's been, what, twelve years? Must be. I was eighteen that last summer, and I'll be thirty next month." Her hands tightened on his for a moment before she withdrew them from his clasp and slid them into the pockets of her cord jeans. "Of course I have, O'Mara. Who could go twelve years without... living?"
There was a note of despair in her voice on the last word. Her mouth tensed and the stress lines between her brows deepened as she closed her eyes for a moment. There had always been something about this man that made it impossible for her to hide things from him. She took a long, slow breath, visibly making herself relax, opened her eyes and smiled at him.
"You haven't told me what you're doing here."
"I live here—at least, I live a couple of miles up the coast. And how did you end up in Kennebunkport?"
"Oh, hard work and lots of luck. I've been saving for a long time for something like this, and then my grandmother died and left me enough to buy this place. It's just what I've always wanted."
"Always? I seem to remember something about your wanting to study physical education." The blue eyes teased as he added, "In fact, you were the most complete tomboy I ever knew. Can't think of a time when you didn't have a scrape, bruise or bandage somewhere. You just wouldn't admit there was anything that twin brother of yours could do that you couldn't do as well."
Kitt chuckled, remembering, and mused, "True. But I grew out of that... after a while... and other things happened, and I was living a long way from Ez for a few years." The strained look returned for a moment, until she controlled it. He could see the effort she made to smile as she continued brightly, "Ez and I have been sharing an apartment for almost five years—until last weekend, in fact, when I moved in here."
He studied her face, his eyes knowing and alert, narrowing as he tried to sort out the nuances in her voice and words. Twelve years before, he had felt a strong rapport with the younger Kitt, not as much as she had with her twin, but enough so that they had often sensed each other's moods and thoughts. And one night, almost the last time he had seen her, he had recognized and answered a need she hadn't even been aware of.
It was bad. Whatever happened in those "few years" was a disaster. And it must have been a man. Where the hell was Ez? He loves her. How could he have let any man do... whatever it took to put that look in her eyes?
Kitt had come around to the front of the desk and sat back against the edge, arms folded across her midriff and long legs stretched out, while she looked over the tall, rangy figure. During the few moments he studied her, she assessed the changes that twelve years had wrought.
Physically, he was much the same. Even at twenty-two, he had been on his own for several years and had developed confidence and self-reliance. He had been easy-moving, well coordinated, with long, sinewy muscles in his arms and legs. He hasn't changed much, thought Kitt. Maybe it's the heavy sweater, but he seems to have gained a few pounds. I hope so—he was always too thin. I used to tease him about counting his ribs.
Her smoky eyes were almost analytical as they moved up the long, lean body, registered the strong neck and finally came to rest on his face. Not exactly a handsome face, but compelling and not easily forgotten. She remembered it as being harsher, obviously showing the tensions and pressures of a young man who had been working since he was seventeen to support himself and pay for college. She and Ez had discovered early on that O'Mara had a quick, clever wit and sense of the ridiculous that often lightened his usually serious expression. She thought now that his face was more relaxed, the laugh lines bracketing the wide mouth more pronounced. All in all, he looked... experienced, as if he had seen it all and done most of it, and now knew with certainty who and what he was and no longer needed to prove anything to anybody. As a young man of twenty-two, he had been an excitingly romantic figure; now, at thirty-four, he projected an image of total male maturity that was devastating.
Kitt was feeling slightly breathless as she shifted her gaze away from O'Mara's face. He still had a swath of black, not quite straight hair falling across his forehead. It was longer now, but still thick and looking as if he'd been in a high wind. She had been avoiding his eyes. Those brilliant, pure blue eyes—intelligent, inquisitive, sometimes mocking, often glinting with laughter as he had teased the young Kitt—those eyes had always seen too much, been too knowing.
She couldn't avoid them any longer, and she tensed defensively as she met his probing assessment of her face. Heavy black brows lowered in a slight frown as he noticed her reaction. Before he could speak, she turned away, coming to her feet and moving back behind the desk as if to put a barrier between them.
A quick, nervous spate of words burst forth. "Ez will be here tonight. He's staying for the weekend. I know he'll be so tickled to see you again. We've often wondered what had ever happened to you." She leaned over to rub Hero behind the ears. He was again sitting in his favorite position—on his rump, with his hind legs sticking straight out in front of him—watching the two tall humans with a puzzled frown. "Don't you like my dog? Come and make friends with him. I seem to remember your liking dogs. His name's Hero and—"
"Kitt," he broke in sharply. "Knock it off. What's the matter with you? I don't remember you as being at all jumpy." He walked behind the desk and rested one arm loosely across her shoulders, reaching down to let Hero sniff at his other hand. He felt Kitt tense again but ignored it. "Of course I like dogs. He's a Basenji, isn't he? They're crazy, but a lot of fun. Friend of mine in California breeds them."
He shifted his arm to rest his hand against her cheek, turned her head toward him and slowly rubbed his thumb over the tight muscle in front of her ear.
He looked in her eyes and saw a trace of fear. "Friend of mine right here, a very old and dear friend, is also acting a bit crazy."
She stiffened and tried to pull away from him. He let her go only long enough to cup her face in his palms, sliding his fingers into her heavy hair. "Kitt? What's wrong with you? I don't recall ever hurting you, so why are you so scared of me?" He tilted her head back slightly so that he could see her eyes, which suddenly glistened with tears as her thick lashes came down and her teeth bit into her lower lip.
"Please," she whispered. "It's not you, O'Mara. It's just... I don't...." Her hands were spread over his ribs, pushing him away. "Please, please, let go. I can't stand being touched. I can't...."
Letting his hands drop away from her, he took a step back. He watched closely as she turned away for a minute. When she turned back to face him, her eyes were still rather bright but apologetic, and she managed an uncertain smile.
"I'm sorry, O'Mara. It really isn't you—it's something that happened when.... Oh, I just can't t
alk about it now. Maybe sometime I will." She pushed her hands into her pockets and hunched her shoulders. "The only one I can talk to is Ez."
She met his eyes and couldn't look away. The rapport that they once had was—incredibly—still there. She knew he was seeing more than she could tell him. Without knowing a single detail, he was sending her a message of hope. Warmth, caring, encouragement flowed from him to her. It took only seconds for the silent plea of Oh, God, I need you, to be answered as silently by I'm here now.
Slowly, Kitt held out her hands. He took them in a tight grip and smiled at her reassuringly. "Enough, now. I told you, I live here. There'll be all the time you need to talk to me whenever you're ready." His tone became more matter-of-fact. "Did you say Ez was coming tonight? When can we get together? I can't wait to see him. Is he still a bear?"
"Of course he's still a bear." Kitt laughed. "Did you suppose he'd shrink in twelve years? He should be here around five, so why don't you come to supper? Do you know Midge Bancroft?"
He nodded and Kitt continued, "She works for me and she'll be eating with us. Ez... well, I'll let you see for yourself. Get Ez to tell you how they met. And ask him about his interviewing technique. He actually hired her for me!" Kitt grinned reminiscently, shaking her head. "He's not to be trusted out without a keeper."
"Doesn't sound as though he's changed much," O'Mara said. "Supper would be great. I'll bring some wine. Do you want red or white?"
"Whatever you like with steak. And plan to stay for the evening, if you can. We've got a lot of catching up to do. I still don't know what you're doing living in Kennebunkport.
Thought you were going to work in Washington. Wasn't your degree in political science?"
"Good memory. And I did work in Washington, among other places. Look, it's a long story and I'll tell you all about it tonight. Save me repeating it for Ez."
