Dead End Road

by Lori Whitwam

  So there.

  Her next conscious thought was if she wanted to escape from all the sunlight streaming into her room, she’d have to stick her head under the pillows. One cautiously opened eye revealed Seth sitting on the bed beside her, leaning back against the headboard. His hair was damp, telling her he must have been awake long enough for a shower. He was paging through her poetry journal.

  She shifted in preparation for an early morning stretch, and he looked at her. A smile immediately lit his face. “Morning, sunshine.”

  “Morning. You been up long?” She snuggled closer to him, cursing the fact she was still enveloped beneath the blankets, while he was on top.

  “Long enough to make coffee, feed Dilbert, and hit the shower.” He put her book on the bed table. “I didn’t want to disturb you. You’re a really sound sleeper.”

  “I wasn’t asleep. That was an orgasm-induced coma.”

  “And I thought those were just an urban legend.”

  “Not anymore.” Turning her head, she peered over the side of the bed. “Where’s Dilbert?”

  “He wanted out after breakfast.”

  “I can’t believe he decided to escape Trudy’s porch and wake me in the middle of the night. I always thought he had the sense to stay out of the rain, but maybe not.” She wiggled even closer to Seth and put her head on his chest. There were still way too many covers between her body and his, but she formulated a plan unhindered by bedding.

  She brushed her lips across his chest and felt his arm wrap around her shoulders. She made her way downward, her mouth never breaking contact with his skin. He wisely didn’t make a move to interrupt her progress, though his hand swept delicious circles across her upper back. She was so sensitized to his touch she swore she could feel every ridge and whorl of his fingertips.

  Her only brief interruption was to free him from his boxers, and she spent a delightful interlude confirming all her observations from the night before. Yes, she remembered exactly what he liked, and she thoroughly enjoyed recreating them all, adding a few new things as they occurred to her.

  She felt fabulously wicked when her feathery touches and bold strokes left him gasping. When his breathing finally slowed and he eased his grip on her shoulder, he said, “Well, that’s good to know.”

  “What’s good to know?”

  “I didn’t imagine how incredible last night was.”

  “Yeah? I don’t know. I think I need more practice.”

  He groaned, but he was smiling. “I’m not sure I’ll survive, but I’m willing to take the risk.”

  “Brave.” She tugged his boxers back into place and kissed his chest. He reached for her, but she intercepted his hand before he could pull back the covers. “Uh-uh. You may have showered, but I am far from springtime fresh.”

  “Don’t care.”

  “I do. Go drink some orange juice or something. I won’t be long.” She slid out of bed and took her robe but didn’t put it on. She knew he was watching, and put a little extra sway in her walk.

  When she came out of the bathroom, she noticed he’d relocated to the living room and was, as instructed, drinking a large glass of orange juice.

  “Hey,” he called as she started across the hall to her room, “do you have an extra notebook around here somewhere?”

  “Sure, up in the loft. Hang on a second.” She went upstairs, observing once again her writing area was far too orderly for her liking, and took a legal pad from the desk. She went to the railing overlooking the living room and called, “Heads up!” When Seth looked up and grinned, she dropped the pad, and he caught it.

  Back in her room, she pondered what to wear. She’d noticed Seth was wearing jeans, but no shirt yet. Could go either way. She opted for worn low-rise jeans and a purple V-neck shirt that didn’t quite cover her tummy. She felt a trifle feisty.

  She returned to the bathroom to dry her hair, because she could imagine the tangled mess it would be if she ended up back in bed with Seth while it was still wet. Which was a distinct and not unwelcome possibility. She decided a touch of mascara and lip tint were called for, so she sorted through her makeup case.

  When she went back to the living room, she saw Seth with his guitar beside him on the couch. He was writing furiously. After swinging by the kitchen for a cup of coffee and starting the dishwasher, she sat next to him. She noticed several pages of the legal pad were already filled with writing and musical notations. So, Seth had broken through his block and was writing again. The knowledge lightened her heart.

  He picked up his guitar and strummed a few notes, making small adjustments to several of the tuning keys before he spoke. “You’ve got to listen to these.”

  “These, as in more than one?”

  “Yeah. Well, none of ’em are finished yet, but I have basic lyrics and some good ideas about the music for at least three so far. They were all in my head when I woke up this morning. And that’s before we talk about what you wrote.” There was a high-energy vibe to his voice she hadn’t heard before. He seemed really excited to be thinking like a songwriter again. As much as he loved performing, she knew the writing was the core of who he was.

  She tilted her head. “Gee, I don’t know. Seth Caldwell, sitting in my living room, asking me if I’ll let him play for me. And he’s not wearing a shirt. I’ll have to think about it.” She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek.

  He chuckled and moved the neck of the guitar out of the way so he could give her a proper kiss. Or an improper one. The way it made her feel, she decided it was definitely the latter. “Okay, this one is kind of upbeat. It starts light, but picks up as it goes along.” He sat forward on the couch, his back not touching the cushions, the Gibson across his knee, and began to play. He had about a dozen lines and a chorus, and Abby let herself drift with the song.

  There was no doubt it was about them. He sang of years wasted for a reason, because you can’t find happiness until you’re wise enough to recognize it. As he’d described, the song started out wistful but built to a hopeful tone, and finally a celebration. And it wasn’t even done. Her throat tightened and she felt her eyes brim.

  Seth played a final chord, lowered the guitar, and looked at her. He reached for her hand. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it? I can change the second verse…”

  “No, no, that’s not it. It’s wonderful. I’m just a little overwhelmed.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a knuckle.

  He blew out a relieved breath. “Good. I mean, I was afraid you hated it. I have so many spinning around in my head right now, and I wanted to get some ideas on paper so I can make room for more.”

  “I know how it feels.” She curled into the corner of the couch to watch him run through the other songs-in-progress. “It’s great when the ideas come so fast.”

  “I’d almost forgotten. Remember the other day when I told you it felt like maybe I’d said everything I had to say?” His voice was hesitant, as if he feared saying the words would somehow make them true.

  “Yes. I didn’t believe it, and now we have proof.”

  “I think maybe it was true. But it’s not anymore.”

  “So, you have a theory grinding a classic guitar to sawdust resurrects creativity?” She still hadn’t recovered from the impact of the song and wanted to soften the emotional edges.

  He wasn’t going to let her get away with dodging him. He placed the guitar on the coffee table and reached for her. She slid into his arms and tried to steady her breathing. He pressed his lips to her forehead before lifting her face to look at him. “Don’t hide from me, Abby-Kat. Not ever. If you’re going to make me feel things I didn’t think I ever could, you’re going to have to hear about them. I’m not good at keeping things inside.”

  “I know, Seth. But I’ve been alone a long time. I haven’t had a lot of practice dealing with my own feelings, let alone anybody else’s.”

  “You have been dealing with them. You’ve been writing. You’re just not used to sharing them with som
ebody.”

  It was a rather astute observation, and she had to admit the truth of it.

  He took her hand and stroked the backs of her fingers with his thumb. When he spoke, his voice was soft, but pulsed with emotion. “I haven’t shared any of myself with anyone, either. Maybe I never have.” His eyes met hers, his expression so intense she had to resist her instinctive reaction to avert her gaze. “But now…now I have to. I love you, Abby, and I need for you to know it, to believe it.”

  Too much. She had to look away. “How can you believe it? How could it happen so fast?” But, oh, she wanted it to be true.

  “I think I knew as soon as I found you again outside Monique’s shop. Joey called me on it the first time I said your name. Since then, it just keeps getting bigger, and if I didn’t tell you, it felt like I’d burn up inside.”

  She realized she had a death grip on his hand, and willed herself to relax. “You don’t even know me.”

  He slid an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t I? I think I do. The important things, anyway. I feel like I’ve always known you. I just hadn’t met you yet.”

  Wow. Wasn’t that how she’d felt about him too? Maybe from the first time she heard him sing? She felt the promise of his kiss at her temple and tilted her head, welcoming his mouth with hers. As soon as she regained her breath, she said, “I can’t say this doesn’t scare me to death.”

  “I wish it didn’t.”

  “I know.” Don’t hide from me, Abby-Kat, he’d said. No more running, Monique had told her. Heart pounding, she said the only thing she absolutely knew to be true. “I love you too, Seth.”

  A long breath escaped his chest, and she realized he’d been frozen for a few moments as he’d waited for her reaction. His gentle smile and the radiance in his eyes almost undid her. “Then everything will work itself out.”

  “This doesn’t solve all our problems,” she cautioned.

  “No, but it’s a start.”

  Seth seemed to sense she needed some space to process the deluge of emotions they’d unleashed. He let her retreat a short distance and retrieved his guitar from the table.

  Abby listened to him experiment with a few variations on a song he had not yet shared, took a bottle of water, and went out on the deck to visit with Dilbert. She thought about her mother’s story of how her father had told her the night they met that she would marry him. This wasn’t marriage, but it was still pretty damned major, as far as life events went.

  She did love him. Whether she put a label on it or said it out loud didn’t matter. Even if neither of them put it into words, it was true. Her head was still spinning, but she guessed she should get used to it. Life with Seth was likely to always contain a strong whirlwind element.

  When she felt more composed, she went back inside. Dropping onto the couch, she kissed Seth on the cheek and smiled.

  “Okay?” he asked, tracing her lower lip with his thumb.

  “Okay,” she said, her heart melting at the slow smile spreading across his face.

  “Ready to listen to some more new stuff?”

  “You bet. Let’s see what we can do.”

  Before she knew it, they were in creative overdrive. The volume of work he’d created in a single morning was astonishing. He had a rollicking song about Cujo’s demise, which made her laugh. There was a romantic ballad, and he took one of her poems and tweaked it into a darkly beautiful song about betrayal.

  She was pleasantly surprised to find she did, in fact, have something to contribute to the songwriting process. She saw how he crafted the music to support and enhance her poems, and soon found ways to make minor changes to her “lyrics” to make it fit the melody Seth provided. Some of his lyrics also benefited from her skill, when she suggested words or phrases to improve the flow or bring out the underlying emotion in a more powerful way.

  Seth finally put the Gibson back in its case and went to the refrigerator for a drink. “You do realize you’ve just cowritten three or four songs, right?”

  “I have not.” While she hadn’t felt totally useless, she couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of writing a song, or even part of one.

  “You sure did. You wrote every word of one of them, over half of another, and you made enough changes to the ones I started I’d give anybody cowriter status for the same work. You’d better get used to it, because these are going to be recorded.” He popped open a can of Coke.

  She reached around him for a diet root beer, and made her way to the French doors. The previous day’s clouds had cleared, and the midmorning sun sparkled on the lake. She opened the door and took a deep breath. “About what I thought. Cooler than the last few days.” She had to admit it felt refreshing.

  “Let me get a shirt and some shoes, and we can sit outside a while.” He disappeared into the bedroom, emerging a moment later wearing a vintage Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt. He put on his shoes, and they went out to the deck chairs.

  As Seth leaned back and propped his feet on the railing, Abby watched him. She realized she knew next to nothing of the ordinary details of his life. She didn’t know the name of his third grade teacher, if he liked Hawaiian pizza, or if he’d ever had a broken bone. But she had time to learn those things. The extreme circumstances of their meeting and the subsequent events had shown her things about his true character that would have otherwise taken her months or years to discover. Not ideal, she knew, what with all the threats to life and limb, but since they were both still in one piece, she decided it was a fair enough trade.

  Abby picked up her phone and spent a few minutes talking with her mother. She reported the clean-up job was impressive, and the temporary repairs had held up well in the rain. “But if you ever clean my loft again, I’m putting myself up for adoption retroactively.”

  “Abigail, there’s a difference between comfortable clutter and places that attract the notice of the health department. Besides, Grace did most of the cleaning. I merely neglected to tell her to stay out of your loft.”

  “Same thing, then.”

  “Did you and Seth have a nice evening?”

  Danger—mother fishing for information of a highly personal nature. “Yes, we did.”

  “And…?”

  “And I’m really grateful you somehow restrained the impulse to iron his underwear and wrap them up with mine in handy little coed bundles in the drawer.”

  Marilyn laughed. “Don’t be silly, sweetie. Now, you tell that wonderful boy I heard he gave David something to think about, and it made my day. David didn’t want to tell Joyce’s mother what he did to provoke him, but I can imagine.”

  Abby smiled. It had been one of the highlights of her day too. Seth was able, in a few sentences, to show all David’s petty attacks for the nonsense they were. It was a bonus he’d also taught David playing word games was all well and good, but might result in swift and painful consequences.

  “I’ll tell him.” They ended the call, and she turned to Seth and grinned. “You’re my mother’s hero.”

  Without missing a beat, he said, “Yeah, I know.”

  “Don’t you want to know why?”

  “I’m figuring she heard about the orgasm-induced coma.”

  Abby paused for a few seconds’ consideration. “She probably guesses.” She relocated from her chair to Seth’s lap and kissed him on the nose. “No, it was because of David.”

  “She heard about him, huh?”

  Abby nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town has. He probably has a pretty awesome bruise, but you can bet he’s not telling anybody he had it coming.”

  “You don’t think he’s going to try to cause trouble, do you?”

  Abby thought. “No. He’s a bully, and he knows he can’t tear me down now, so it’s no fun for him. Since he made it clear he thinks we’re so far beneath him, he won’t want people thinking about how you got the best of him.”

  “Good. I was worried he’d find a way to turn it into more trouble for you.”

  “No worries.
” Abby rose from his lap and walked over to the railing. “Wonder where Dilbert is. He looked fine last night, but if he was running around in the dark, I want to check him over. He doesn’t have very good depth perception with only one eye, and sometimes he runs into things.”

  “He looked good this morning. Ate breakfast in eleven seconds flat.”

  “He’d do that if he had two broken legs and a collapsed lung.”

  Seth laughed. “He took off toward the lake, so I’d check with the ducks if I were you.”

  She took a few steps toward the stairs leading down to the yard and stopped. There was a large, muddy shoe print on the lowest step, and it gave her a sudden tingle of “something ain’t right.”

  “Seth, did you go down in the yard this morning?”

  “No, I just opened the door and let Dilbert out. Why?”

  She motioned him over and pointed at the print. “Somebody’s been here.”

  Seth reached for her hand. “Do you think it was the cop who was supposed to keep an eye on things?”

  “I doubt it,” she said, shaking her head. “They were supposed to drive by. Nobody said anything about coming around the house. I don’t think they’d get out of the cruisers unless they saw something suspicious. And they sure would’ve called me. But you can bet I’ll be calling Bob and clarifying the point.” This was one instance when having a cop who wasn’t clear on procedure would actually be welcome. The alternative made her sick to her stomach.

  She went inside and grabbed a pair of flip-flops, and in a minute they were circling the house. They immediately saw more footprints in the fresh mud.

  Seth pointed out one particularly obvious area at the edge of the pit Dilbert had dug near the deck. “I don’t like this. Look, somebody didn’t see the hole in the dark and almost wiped out.”

  Abby stopped short. “This is what Dilbert was barking about. It’s probably why he came over here last night. I bet he heard something.” What would have happened if she had been a little faster getting to the door when the dog woke her?