by Jane Kindred
“Your car flattened under a felled branch down the road, for one.”
My cheeks went hot. Knowing that my complexion reddened so easily always made it worse. It certainly wasn’t standing in front of Lukas Strand that made it worse. Asshole.
The corner of his mouth twitched as if my blazing cheeks amused him. “I had it towed to Ferndale about an hour north of here, but from the looks of it, I’d say you need a new one.”
“So you’re staying, then?” Aravella observed us coolly, but her tone was anxious.
I hadn’t meant to. I wanted nothing more than to get the hell away from Lukas Strand and this whole mess. But whoever was sending me these messages knew exactly how to work me. I couldn’t just walk away and not find out what they knew. And this poor damn kid—I glanced at Konstantin, looking lost and miserable on the couch. The way things were going, he could wind up being permanently disabled, a casualty of whatever feud was being waged between Lukas and Aravella, if someone didn’t step in. I’d seen too many children end up in the foster system as someone else’s collateral damage.
“Yeah,” I said with a defiant look at Lukas. “I guess I am.”
His green eyes narrowed, and he studied my face for a moment as if he was trying to figure out the punch line to a joke I’d just told, and then his jaw tightened. “Well, that’s just fan-fucking-tastic, Millie.” He turned on his heel and left.
Konstantin’s expression was simultaneously crestfallen and relieved as he glanced up at his mother. “What’s ‘fan-fucking-tastic’?”
“Nothing, sweetheart. It’s Swedish.” Aravella looked at me. “Thank you.” Her eyes were anything but warm, but her gratitude was genuine. I had the sudden impression of a vanquished queen thanking her usurper for an unexpected kindness before she was led away to her execution. But I wasn’t usurping anything. She had it all wrong. “I’ll go get the rest of Koste’s things. I’ll be right back,” she assured him as he tugged at her arm with a worried expression. She left the cottage, and I was alone with my patient.
I pasted on a smile. “Hello, Koste. We got off to kind of a bumpy start, didn’t we? Let’s have a do-over and pretend none of that happened.” I went to the couch and held out my hand. “I’m Millie.”
Konstantin let me shake his hand, cringing a bit as if he thought I might bite it off.
“So how old are you, Koste?”
“My name’s Konstantin,” he said sullenly.
“I’m sorry. Konstantin. Is that a Greek name?”
“No, it’s Swedish.” Like most children, he couldn’t keep from staring at my scars, though he was doing an admirable job of trying to do it surreptitiously through the hank of hair over his eyes.
“My face looks a little funny, doesn’t it? I was in a fire when I was little.”
His eyes grew large. “Did it hurt?”
“I’m sure it did, but I was too young to remember.”
“I don’t remember when I got hurt either. I was up there.” He glanced at the lighthouse door with a wary look. “Pappa found me. He was mad.”
“I’m sure he was very worried. A lot of times, parents seem mad when they’ve been worried.”
Konstantin hunched his shoulders in a guilty shrug. “I’m not supposed to play in there.”
I’d reached my limit with child small talk. I was used to having a limited time with a patient, with a schedule and established goals for each session. Babysitting was not my specialty.
Aravella saved us from too much of an awkward pause, returning with a suitcase full of Konstantin’s things, including a game console that she set up immediately. He was soon in his own little world, destroying monsters.
She’d also brought the doctor’s notes that Konstantin had been sent home with, which would help immensely. The isometric stretches he’d recommended for the boy to do in bed she said he’d done some of at least, even though the instructions for weight-bearing exercise had been ignored. He’d progressed from a plaster cast to the removable walking cast he currently wore six weeks ago and had been expected to be walking without it by now.
“The doctor mentions crutches,” I noted as we sat at the kitchen table going over the plan.
“Koste says they hurt.”
“Well, they’re going to. It’s part of the healing process. But he’ll end up with chronic pain if he doesn’t go through a little pain now.”
She nodded reluctantly. “I’ll bring them by before I leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? You’re leaving for Greece already?”
“I should have left a week ago, but I couldn’t leave him until I’d found someone.” Aravella glanced over at him happily blowing things up, oblivious to us. “He doesn’t know I’m going, so please don’t tell him before I come to say good-bye.”
Terrific. I was going to be left with the fallout of a sudden abandonment. That ought to go smoothly.
It was bad enough when she finally headed back to the house in the afternoon.
“I don’t want to stay here.” He looked panicked as she kissed him on top of his head. “I want to go home with you.”
“Sweetheart, I told you, you need to stay with Millie for just a little while. She’s going to help your leg get better so you can start walking again.”
“I don’t want to walk. I want to go home!”
Aravella looked distressed, as though she might waver already. I had a feeling she’d been compensating for Lukas’s lack of affection by overindulging Konstantin out of guilt for a long time.
“Why don’t we have a slumber party?” I suggested. I wasn’t all that wild about being left alone with him either. “You could come back later after you’re done taking care of what you need to, and we could watch a movie. I noticed some popcorn and cocoa in the cupboard.”
Aravella was staring at me as though I’d lost my mind. “A slumber party?”
“Please, Mamma!” Konstantin’s eyes had lit up at the idea, and I knew I’d guilted her into it just by bringing it up.
* * * * *
Two days ago, if someone had told me I’d be having a sleepover with Lukas’s wife and child, I’d have slapped them for being an unamusing imbecile. But as odd as it was, it wasn’t half as awful as I might have expected. Konstantin fell asleep in the middle of the movie, stuffed with popcorn—and with the unbelievably awesome brownies Carolina had provided, which Aravella and I proceeded to finish off in the kitchen while sharing a daintily rolled joint she produced.
“I get it from the hippies in Jerusalem.” She laughed. “There are all sorts of things growing out there in the woods.”
She fell asleep curled on the couch next to Konstantin, and I went off to bed. I dreamt of my mother again, climbing the steps of the lighthouse tower and beckoning me to follow.
“Pappa doesn’t want me to go up there,” I told her. “He’ll be mad.”
“But Pappa’s up there waiting to see you.” She disappeared around a curve of the staircase and I hurried after her, but when I reached the top, it was empty. The large Fresnel lens in the housing was lit by flame, and I stared into it from beneath the glass as it flickered and flashed. I reached my hand up toward it, but someone grabbed my arm, and I turned swiftly on the stairs and nearly tumbled down them at the sight of Lukas beside me.
He caught me and pulled me into his arms. “What are you doing here? I told you it was dangerous.”
“But I know kung fu.”
“That’s not going to do you any good here.”
We were standing in the forest now, in the dark, and he pressed me against the trunk of a giant redwood, his body as firm and hard against me as the tree at my back.
“Why did you have to come here?” he whispered, his eyes hungry with need. Pressing his lips to my throat, Lukas placed his hands on either side of my waist under the hem of the stretchy, long-sleeved tee and slid them slowly
up to my breasts, bare beneath the shirt, pushing the fabric up out of his way. I gasped as he moved his mouth lower and closed it over a taut nipple, drawing it in against the wet heat of his tongue.
While I gripped the tree behind me to keep from melting boneless to the ground, he unbuttoned his white cotton shirt with a few quick strokes of his fingers and tossed the garment down. Moving to the other breast, he slid his hands to my hips, unbuttoned my pants and dipped his fingers into my panties.
“We shouldn’t,” I moaned as he cupped the slope between my thighs, but made no attempt to stop him as his fingers persuaded me to open. When they pressed between my damp, swollen flesh into the heat inside me, I wrapped my arms around his neck with a breathy cry.
Lukas pulled his mouth from my breast, eliciting a tiny moan of protest from me before he muffled the sound with his mouth against mine, pressing me into the tree once more, his bare chest against my damp skin. I slid my hands down around the tight muscles of his back, my toes going numb, as he began to work his fingers rapidly inside me, bracing himself with his other hand against the trunk of the tree beside my head.
He let go of my mouth, and those moss-green eyes burned into mine. “Why did you come, Millie?” he asked, his voice ragged with desire. “Did you come for me?”
“Yes,” I moaned. My thighs had begun to shake.
His thumb caressed my clit, sliding against the hood. Lukas pinned me with his gaze, and I couldn’t look away. “Come for me,” he whispered, and I tumbled over the edge, hips pumping against him with the rapid tempo of his thrusting, every inch of my body on fire.
* * * * *
The orgasm woke me, and I rolled over, gasping into my pillow just as my phone vibrated against the nightstand beside me, as if it too were humming with satisfaction.
I turned and grabbed the phone with irritation, although it was a welcome distraction from having to give any thought to the dream. It wouldn’t do to start analyzing my subconscious. I’d smoked some pot, and it had given me an erotic dream. Big deal. It wasn’t as if it were the only one I’d ever had about Lukas.
Another text from my “friend”. So pleased you’ve decided to stay, Emilie. There’s so much you need to learn about your family.
I felt like throwing the phone at the wall. Then why don’t you just stop playing games and talk to me face-to-face?
It’s not a game. We have to proceed cautiously. The more you know, the more dangerous it will become. I’m trying to keep you safe.
I’d had enough of this crap. I switched the phone off.
When I got up and went into the living room, Aravella was gone. The sinking feeling I had was confirmed when I picked up the wall-mounted phone in the kitchen and pressed the button for the house: Aravella had left for the airport without saying good-bye to Konstantin.
Chapter Four
The poor kid was inconsolable.
“She said she’d only be gone a few days,” I lied, hoping the lie wouldn’t end up being too far from the truth. “I’m sure she wanted to say good-bye, she just didn’t want to upset you.”
While Konstantin was sobbing hysterically, Roger arrived at the cottage with breakfast from Karolina. Konstantin appealed to him as if I’d been beating him, begging him to take him home to his mamma.
Roger was surprisingly good with him. He sat beside Konstantin on the couch with his arm around him. “Your mother had to go on a little trip, Koste. Dr. Lang is going to take good care of you while she’s gone.”
“I’m not actually a doctor…” I gave up. No one really cared. “Don’t you want some of this delicious breakfast, Konstantin? Karolina’s made blueberry muffins.” My own mouth watered as I lifted the cloth from the breakfast basket. They were still steaming and crusty with brown sugar on the tops.
I brought him one to entice him, and he shook his head, though he looked at it rather longingly.
“You don’t even want a bite?” I pulled off a piece of the crusty top and ate it, offering a piece to him. “It’s really good.”
He took the chunk of muffin, tears still pouring over his little cheeks, and chewed it between gasping sobs. As his breathing began to calm somewhat, he held out his hand for the rest of the muffin and focused on it intently as he ate, still crying, but looking more resigned to his fate.
“There, now,” said Roger. “Don’t worry. The time will fly by, and she’ll be back before you know it. And you can surprise her by showing her how much progress you make with Dr. Lang.”
By the time Konstantin had finished a second muffin and had a glass of milk, the crisis seemed to be over, and Roger headed back to the house.
“I imagine you’d like to use the bathroom,” I said to Konstantin.
He nodded and looked around. “Where’s my wheelchair?”
“We’re not going to be using the wheelchair here. Your mamma took it back to the house.” I took the crutches from where they were propped beside the table, and Konstantin looked like he might cry again. “Don’t worry. I’m going to help you until you can use them on your own. First, let’s see if we can get you standing.”
I set the crutches next to the couch, swiveled him about so his legs were over the side, and held out my arm like a sturdy bar. “Just grab hold of my arm with both hands and try to pull yourself up. I won’t let you fall.”
Konstantin looked dubious, but my unfamiliarity was just intimidating enough to him that he didn’t dare disobey. He didn’t yet have the muscle strength to do it on his own, but I put my other arm around his back beneath his shoulders and gave him a boost. He clutched my arm in surprise as he found himself wavering on his own two legs.
“It’ll break again!” he cried in a panic.
“No, it won’t. Trust me. Putting some weight on it will actually make it stronger so you can get better faster. Just stay there a little bit longer. You’re doing great.”
“It hurts.” His lip was curling downward as if he was about to cry again.
I took one of the crutches and placed it under the arm opposite the cast. “Move your hand down to the grip. I’ve still got you. And now you can take the weight off the boot a little, see? Does that feel better?”
He nodded uncertainly, and I slipped the second crutch under his other arm.
“Now take that one.” I moved my arm around to his back once more to steady him as he let go of me, but he was standing on his own. “Look at that, Konstantin—you’re standing up.”
Realizing I’d moved my hand from his back, he began to wobble, his eyes widening with fear, and I set my hands on his shoulders.
“You’re okay, I’ve got you. Why don’t you try taking a step forward.” I guided him through it, and he actually managed to go a few halting feet before he reached his limit. “That was really awesome, Konstantin.” I set the crutches aside while he wrapped his arms around my neck and then hoisted him to ride piggyback to the bathroom, making him laugh.
When we came back the same way, Lukas was standing in the living room. Infuriatingly, my pulse raced at the sight of him.
He frowned at me. “I thought you were going to get him to walk, not carry him around.”
“He can’t do it all at once,” I said, sliding Konstantin off onto the couch. “He’s already taken a few steps on the crutches, and he did really well.”
Lukas glanced at Konstantin staring up at him silently. “Roger said he was upset.”
“Well, he’s much better now.” I switched on the TV and handed Konstantin his game controller. “Why don’t you play for a bit while I find out what Roger brought us for lunch?” I retreated to the kitchen with a nod to Lukas.
He caught my look and followed, and I tried not to think of this morning’s dream as he came up beside me while I unpacked the bag Roger had brought along with breakfast. Two boxed lunches contained the makings of tarragon chicken salad sandwiches on freshly baked focaccia,
accompanied by a watercress salad with pears and shaved gruyere. This kid ate better than I ever had in my life.
“Aravella left without saying good-bye to him,” I said quietly. “He didn’t even know she was going.”
Lukas’s eyes took on the flinty look. “No one knew she was going. She took the Strand jet to Athens.” Of course there was a Strand jet.
“She told me there was a death in the family.”
He gave me a humorless laugh. “There may be one soon if she doesn’t stop jetting off to fuck her Greek lovers.” Lukas sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry. That’s really not your problem.” He glanced over at Konstantin absorbed in his game. “Listen, Millie. I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, and I think your being at the Strand is an extremely bad idea.”
My jaw set stubbornly as I glared up at him, even though I’d said as much myself.
“But I appreciate the interest you’ve taken in Konstantin. With Aravella taking off like this, I don’t know what we’d have done if you weren’t here. The aunts adore him, of course, but he’s difficult for anyone to deal with under the best of circumstances. Since his fall, he’s been a lot worse. I’ve argued with Aravella about keeping him here, but if you’re able to help him… I mean, I know you’re not that kind of therapist, but you’ve worked with kids.”
I squinted up at him in confusion as the angle of the sun hit directly behind him. “Aravella mentioned something about him having special needs, but he seems pretty well adjusted, considering.” I refrained from adding, considering his parents are self-absorbed a-holes. “But keeping him at the cottage makes the most sense for his recovery.”
Lukas blinked at me and then stepped over to close the kitchen door. “I don’t mean here at the cottage,” he murmured. “I mean here at home. Aravella didn’t tell you?” That phrase never boded well.
“Tell me what?”
“About his episodes.” Lukas stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable. “He has these sort of fugue states, alternating with emotional outbursts. We thought maybe it was some kind of epilepsy or bipolar condition, but he’s been tested, and the doctors can’t find anything wrong with him.”
