by Ward, Susan
It was only a little past nine. The morning was a pretty blend of yellow light, the meadow grass still smelled of night dew, and the wind was full of birdsongs.
God, how she loved Saturday mornings in Coos Bay. For too long it had been a meaningless marker on the calendar. Here it was quiet hours in the garden while Katie studied dance in a ballet studio.
There were many simple treasures in her life now. There was the memory of Katie’s happy face as she dropped off her pink tutu-clad body at the dance studio. Katie’s happiness was all Krystal needed to be certain she’d done the right thing running from Nick.
There would always be regrets, longings and pain, but they’d been soothed by time and answered with blessings. Her daughter was happy and safe. She was happy and safe.
She yanked out a weed from the Millers’ rose bed and, without looking, tossed it into the pile.
“Ah, you’re hard at work early. I’ve been wondering who keeps the garden so perfect.”
The words, quietly spoken, came from behind her. Krystal sat back on her heels, realizing she hadn’t noticed she was being watched. She turned her head to find Devon. He stood relaxed, elbows braced on the fence, one leg bent. The breeze lifted the golden waves of his head and his supple, leather jacket fluttered against his frame. His posture told her he’d been there a while.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said quickly. “I’m almost done. Let me grabs those weeds and I’ll get out of your way.”
His bright eyes searched her face, which seemed full of indiscernible thoughts. “You’re not disturbing me and I can haul away my own weeds, thank you. Would you like to come in for some coffee?”
Krystal’s eyes widened. Coffee? In the Miller house with Devon? Alone? It was a terrible idea. Why was she so tempted?
She pulled off her work gloves and tucked them into her pocket. “Thank you for the invitation, but I can’t. I have to pick Katie up in about an hour and I like to get a walk in on Saturday mornings, before I start teaching lessons.”
Devon made a face. “Not the answer I’d hoped for.” He smiled. “Do you mind if I walk with you? I haven’t written a decent sentence all day. Maybe it’ll clear my head.”
“I’d really rather—”
“Just let me put my coffee cup on the table,” Devon interrupted. “I’ll scoop up those weeds and we can be off.”
Another smile. Damn, that smile. Krystal eased into a standing position. Why didn’t Devon ever take the brush-off when she gave it?
He set his coffee cup on a redwood table and bent over to collect the weeds. She watched the playful flexing of his muscles, the way his shirt strained across his back. Tossing her a satisfied nod, he marched off to the green waste bin and was back too quickly for comfort.
“Do you have a route you like to take, or do you want to be adventuresome?” he asked.
Krystal flushed. Devon was waiting for her to lead them from the yard and she had stood there staring at him, mute.
“There’s a path through our yards that heads to a pond. It’s my favorite walk,” she said, hoping she sounded nonchalant.
With that, she began to cross the yard with Devon lumbering quietly at her side. Logic told her to keep her distance from him, but the rest of her refused to cooperate.
Out of the corner of her eye, she chanced a glance at him.
“It’s beautiful here,” he said casually.
“Yes, it is.”
Krystal willed her muscles to relax. Since it seemed she was stuck with Devon the next hour, she might as well stop behaving so ridiculously.
She cut across her yard to a narrow path. It was like a tunnel because of the high walls of dense foliage, and the trees that crowded the curving trail had twining branches that let only an occasional shot of sunlight through. There was an otherworldly freshness to the air, the shadowy vignette seeming to disappear into nothing
At the pond, she moved ahead of him until she was on a small quay and she stripped off her shoes, pushed up her pant legs, and laid on her back, arms crossed behind her head, feet dangling in water.
Devon stood above her. “That wasn’t much of a walk. Are we resting already?”
The expression on Devon’s face made her laugh. “Come on, city boy. Learn to be decadent in nature.”
Devon sank down on the quay and copied her posture. “I take it this is decadent?”
Krystal laughed. “No. This is Wonderland and I’m Alice. Idle minutes of quiet with self. Where else can one find that these days except in Wonderland? I’m relishing it while I have it.”
“Are you anticipating losing it soon?”
“All things are precious and fading. You should never squander even a moment in Wonderland.”
He turned his face toward her and then frowned, as if in deep thought. “If you’re Alice, who am I? The Mad Hatter?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I’ll let you know when I figure it out!” Krystal laughed. “Why would you think you were the Mad Hatter? Cheshire cat, maybe. But the Hatter?”
Devon shrugged. “Because you keep giving me the brush-off, lady, and I keep following you anyway,” he said, in a mildly self-depreciating way that was more than a little charming.
Krystal stilled. So, Devon was attracted to her. The signals he gave off, at times, were so confusing she wasn’t certain until now.
She became aware all at once how utterly delightful it felt to be here with him, alone on the quay, with the erotic nearness of his body.
She closed her eyes. “Listen to the quiet. There are times when I lie here and it feels like there is no one else in the world!”
“No one else in the world? Would that be a good thing?” he asked thoughtfully.
“No. But the illusion is grand, don’t you think?” she whispered.
Krystal turned her head to the side, lifting her lids to find Devon’s gaze sparkling as he studied her. He shook his head lazily. “No. The illusion wouldn’t be grand at all. It would mean I wasn’t here with you.”
It all changed at once, yet again, and so quickly that Krystal couldn’t stop it. The ticklish feeling stirred in her limbs. Devon’s words, as well as the closeness of their bodies, should have sent her into active retreat, and instead she felt herself wanting to curl into him. What would it feel like if kissed me? Would I still feel this delicious inside? Or would that old panic and fear return?
Laughing softly, Devon said, “I’m not used to relaxing. Can you tell?”
“I wasn’t used to it before Coos Bay, either. There is a different pace of life here. At first I thought there was no sound. That’s how quiet it seemed to me. Then I realized that there is music, beautiful music in this quiet.”
After a long pause, he murmured, “You’ll have to bring me here every Saturday until I learn to hear music in the quiet.”
Krystal smiled. “Once you hear the music it’s perfect.”
“It’s perfect now to me.” His voice was a husky, sensual whisper.
He was on his side facing her. When had that happened? An inadvertent thrill ran through her flesh, and she could see it in his eyes—the supplication, the want, and an unexplainable reluctance to indulge either.
Devon was no longer smiling, his eyes had become brighter and more diffuse. His fingertips started to trace her face with such exquisite lightness that her insides shook. For the first time, in a very long time, she felt completely a woman and wanting.
Was it possible? Had she finally healed internally as her flesh had done so long ago? Was she finally past the legacy of Nick? Was what she was now feeling real? Should she seek the answer with Devon? Or was it better to leave it unexplored?
“You are a very beautiful woman,” he whispered.
She watched with sleepy movements as his mouth lowered to her. It came first as a touch on her cheek, feather soft between the play of his fingers. Her breath caught, followed by a pleasant quickening of her pulse. She was unprepared for the sweetness of his lips and the rushing sensations
that ran her body. His thumb traced the lines of her mouth, as his kiss moved sweetly, gently there.
His breath became rapid in a way that matched her own, and his mouth grew fuller and more searching. The fingertips curving her chin were like a gentle embrace, but their mouths were eager and demanding. Flashes of desire rocketed through her powerfully. Urgency sang through her flesh, a forgotten melody, now in vibrant notes. She found herself wanting to twist into him. Reality begged her to twist back.
Pulling back from Devon took effort for her. The retreat from his lips was an unexpected agony.
He lifted his head, holding her wide eyes in a probing gaze.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Devon said softly. Laughing, he raked a hand through his tousled blond hair. “I don’t usually jump out of left field and kiss women I hardly know, but then again, I haven’t met a woman who is as charming and beautiful as you.”
It was a pat line, said to put her at ease, and Krystal recognized it at once.
She managed a little smile and said, “Heck, you have nothing to apologize for. It was a rather pleasant kiss.”
Krystal sat up, tugged on her shoes, unrolled her pant legs, and sprang to her feet.
As he watched her, Devon inquired carefully, “But a pleasantry you’d prefer not to deal with or have repeated, right?”
She stared down at him, wanting to find a comfortable balance between them again.
“Yes, a pleasantry I would prefer not to deal with or have repeated. You didn’t offend me if that is what you’re worrying about. I just don’t want any added complications in my life. Dating isn’t in the cards for me right now. I’m a single mother.”
Devon’s smile was friendly and non-threatening as he rose to his feet. “For the beautiful lady who does my gardening, anything. No pleasantries, but how do you feel about friendship?”
That he was willing to put such limitations on their relationship without her having to demand them both relieved and distressed her.
Tucking her thoughts behind a smile, she said, “Since we’re going to be neighbors, it would be foolish not to at least be friendly.”
She didn’t wait for his response. She quickly headed down the path toward home.
Devon had been working for hours. He had spent only thirty minutes alone with Krystal Stafford, but it had taken half the afternoon to clear his system of her. The words that ran from his mind to his fingers, and stared out at him from his laptop, resembled anything but a newspaper story. But then, his encounters with her never quite shaped up in interview format.
What he was staring at was more like a blueprint of a woman, an intriguing mystery he wanted to make reason of, his motivation as unclear as what was stirring upward inside him.
There was something in how she had felt in his arms that lingered and nipped at him, refusing to be pushed away. It was beyond the almost ludicrously intense passion he’d felt after such meager physical contact with her. He had the strangest sensation that letting him kiss her had been some sort of a curiosity for Krystal, almost as if she indulged it to find answers to her own nagging questions.
He knew what was motivating him intellectually and physically. He wondered what was moving within her. She had lain pliant beneath his touch, neither inviting nor resisting, letting it happen and almost watching herself from outside of herself. So what question did she want answered by letting him kiss her?
He leaned back in his chair and switched off his laptop. Something warned him that there were greater parts of her story that were still unknown to him. He couldn’t imagine what effect they would have on him. He was already more captivated by this woman than he should be. This was no longer just a story; he knew it at once when he’d kissed her. It was a journey of self for him.
Oh, god, make it stop. Please! The pain in her body from the force of the blows didn’t match that surrounding her heart. Those screams. Horrified. Desperate. All the more terrifying because they were her own, they rang out in the darkness, but no one answered. It went on and on, the blood seeping up her arms as she tried to stem its flow, her tears, her screaming.
Don’t let me die. Please God, what will become of Katie if you don’t make him stop? It kept on and on. The pain. The blood. Warm and sticky. Nick! Nick! Oh god, why won’t someone come? Why doesn’t anyone hear me...?
Krystal jerked up in bed, her heart hammering and her body shaking with fear. Stumbling out of the bed, she switched on her light and staggered to the bathroom. Splashing the cool water into her face, she thanked God that Katie hadn’t heard her screams and come running. Katie had seen too much unpleasantness already in her short lifetime.
Staring down at her shaking hands, Krystal wondered why the nightmare had returned. It had been two weeks since the last. She had hoped they were finally all behind her. When would she stop reliving the horrors of her marriage? Hadn’t it cost her enough? Why couldn’t she break completely free?
Her legs slowly giving way, she sank down against the cabinet and began to cry. In frustration, she beat her fist against the glass cabinet doors, mindless when the force shattered a delicate pane, leaving cuts and bruises along the soft undersides of her wrists. The pain was too consuming. And the frustration.
Damn it, when would the nightmares stop? Two years! Why wasn’t it enough? She didn’t want to remember that last night. She wanted to tuck it away, far away, where it could not hurt her, where it wouldn’t intrude on the peace of her life in Coos Bay.
Huddled in a ball, she cried until the tears were spent and fading into shuddering breaths. She didn’t know how long she sat there, but it must have been quite a while. When she heard a soft knock at her front door, she was startled to see bright sunlight filtering through the small, rectangle window above her sink.
When she emerged from the bathroom and opened her front door, she felt another shock. “Oh, God! It’s Monday, isn’t it?”
There on her porch stood Devon Howard, a pale pink carton from the bakery in hand. “I know I’m early, but I was in town this morning and I stopped by the bakery. I thought you and Katie might enjoy...” His voice died in mid-sentence as his gaze flitted anxiously over her. “Christine, what the devil’s the matter?”
She had no idea how she looked. Shaking her head, she said, “I overslept. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
“Like hell you will,” Devon exclaimed anxiously.
With a startled gasp, she tried to pull away as his hands closed over her forearms and held her wrists out in the light. She watched in panic as he turned her arms over to reveal several ugly cuts and a tiny row of bruises.
The look in Devon’s eyes made her shrink. “What’s happened to your arms?”
Dropping her gaze, she pleaded: “Leave me alone! It’s nothing!”
His palm cupped her chin, gently forcing her face toward him. His narrowed eyes did a sharp examination.
“Where can I find a clean wash cloth?” His voice was amazingly calm, the only normal thing around her.
Krystal pointed to her bedroom and Devon left the kitchen.
Once he returned, he demanded raggedly, “How did this happen?”
He was dragging her toward the kitchen, and with her long nightshirt tangling around her ankles, Krystal almost stumbled.
“It’s nothing,” she repeated again, even though the discolored purple patches of flesh speckled with blood belied her words.
He turned on the water, forcing her arms under it as he gently washed the dried blood away. “Tell me what I should do, Christine. Should I call a doctor? The police?”
The Police? Panic. “No! You don’t need to call anyone! I’m fine!”
Something in her tone made him freeze. Krystal tensed. Good grief, get ahold of yourself! “Don’t call anyone. Not unless you want me to feel like more of a fool than I already do now.”
His sharp eyes took her in a quick glance. “Christine, I want to help you. Tell me what to do!”
“I don’t need your help,”
she whispered defensively.
Devon shut off the water and wrapped a clean towel around her arms before he set her on the tall kitchen stool.
“Where’s your first aid kit?”
“That isn’t necessary!”
“Let me decide what’s necessary. Why are you so stubborn about accepting help? You can’t bandage those cuts yourself!”
He was right. “In my bathroom. The mirror cabinet.”
Devon came back from her room, setting the small box of medical supplies in front of him and sinking on the stool across from her. He didn’t say anything at first, and Krystal was relieved. Taking the antiseptic bottle out, he dabbed a piece of cotton in it and lightly began to work on the cuts on her wrist. She was mortified that someone had seen her like this, and yet there was also comfort in being tended to so gently, with concern, with patience, with his desire to protect her.
“Do they feel better?”
Krystal nodded. They did feel better. Touch of Devon.
His eyes caught hers in a delicate gaze. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Tears pooled in her eyes. There was such compassion waiting there if she wanted it, and yet she couldn’t reach for it. She couldn’t trust Devon or anyone with the truth. She had to bear this alone, for her own protection.
A single tear escaped her eyes, rolling down her cheek to her chin. Devon leaned forward, brushing it away with a fingertip. “If someone did this to you, tell me, Christine. I want to help you. You can see that, can’t you?”
Devon was such a temptation. It would be so easy to unburden herself to him. But she couldn’t. Not now. Not ever.
“I don’t need your help.” The words came out sharper than she intended.
Devon’s patient face didn’t alter so much as an inch.
“Let me go!” She tried to break free, but he was having none of it. “Please, Devon. I’m all right. It’s nothing, really!”
“I’m your friend, Christine. Let me be one,” he said quietly.
“If you want to be my friend then go away! You’d listen to me when I tell you that I don’t want to discuss it. You’d go away now because that’s what I want! Darn it, Devon, if you want to be my friend, act like one!”
