Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology
Page 15
“Tomorrow, Victoria is taking Diana home, and the last thing she said before she went up to bed was, ‘If you don’t promise not to speak of this again, I’ll not have her visit you again! I’ll find someone else to take her during the summer!’”
So that was the reason Diana hadn’t come back to visit Aunt Belinda the following summer, when she was fourteen. That would have been after Uncle Tracer died, after Diana’s prediction had come true.
Impossible. I couldn’t have known that.
She pulled abruptly to her feet, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that her aunt was either delusional or that she, Diana, had at one time predicted her great-uncle’s death. A violent shiver overtook her limbs, then coiled around and around to settle, sharp and hard, in her belly in the form of queasiness. She felt light-headed, as though a chill wind was bearing down on the nape of her neck.
It can’t be true, she told herself over and over—repeating the mantra as she made her way from the den and its eeriness to her bedroom. Even if at one time I did predict Uncle Tracer’s death—it could have been a guess, or a coincidence even, but even if I did predict it, I don’t have the ability any longer. I haven’t seen any visions in bubbles, or puddles of water, or mirrors—or crystal balls, for that matter—since then. It must have been a fluke.
Diana pulled on her nightshirt and walked into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She went through the motions automatically, in a fog, trying to banish the unsettling thoughts. How could it be?
As she returned to her room, still unable to escape her horrified thoughts, the answer came...and suddenly all of the tension drained out of her.
Aunt Belinda! It was Aunt Belinda who’d had the prediction of Uncle Tracer’s death—and because it was so traumatic for her, she somehow projected it upon Diana.
A relieved smile curved her face as she once more crawled into bed. That explained everything—why Diana had never had a vision or image since then, and why she didn’t remember telling her aunt about the prediction. That was because she’d never had it!
Diana drew in a deep breath and let it out in a welcome, soothing sigh. That explained it all. She wasn’t crazy, there was nothing going on with her mind that she couldn’t control—she wasn’t making predictions about people dying.
It was all Aunt Belinda.
That night, her dreams took a different approach. Real and unsettling, but not the least bit frightening ….A scrap of newspaper appeared in every venue of her nocturnal images—first in what must have been Aunt Belinda’s den, but was designed more like a Dr. Seuss world, with curving buildings reminiscent of Manet’s “The Scream” painting and in bold, ugly colors...and then in her own office back in Boston, this one more realistic but still a bit warped...and finally, fluttering through a room crowded with people celebrating something: Aunt Belinda, Jonathan, Ethan, Pauline Whitten, Marc Reardon, Doc Horner and Mindy, his niece...and even the cats.
The cats.
Diana awoke, sitting upright with the dread realization: somehow, she had to get the aloof felines to the vet. Today. She collapsed back onto her pillow and closed her eyes. Ugh.
* * *
Ethan tossed the tennis ball straight into the air so high that it sang through the topmost branches of a pine, then caught it when it came whistling back down. He threw the neon yellow ball up again, flickering a glance at an at-attention Cady, who was frozen, poised to take off after it should he pitch it horizontally.
“Ready?” he asked, excitement tingeing his voice. Cady’s ears perked up and her eyes brightened even more, riveted on the ball. Ethan wound up and fired the ball over the lab’s head, toward the lake.
Cady was after it like a shot, thrashing through the forest down to the water. Ethan stood, hands on his hips, watching her black tail spiral down the incline. It was only mid-morning, and he felt like he needed to do something worthwhile today...something worthwhile like seeing Diana Iverson.
Ethan looked up at the towering pines that enclosed the clearing that was his yard. He was more than a bit disgusted with himself and the wayward thoughts that continued to creep back to that night—only two nights ago—when he’d taken the perfect opportunity to kiss her. And since then, he’d been distracted from just about everything productive—including sleep.
Hot damn. What a kiss.
But beyond that delicious interlude, Ethan wasn’t certain how he felt about being manipulated. Sort of, anyway. He had been closer to the phone. It was logical for him to answer it.
Still, he knew she’d made the decision deliberately.
Obviously he was correct that there were issues between her and Jonathan, and while part of him would relish it if Diana dumped the pinhead’s ass, he didn’t want to be party to it. Even though his presence with her that night had been completely innocent—well, on her part anyway—he didn’t want to get involved.
But Ethan’s tolerance for infidelity was nil, and clearly Jonathan Wertinger had already crossed that line. So the guy should get what he deserved.
But Ethan didn’t want to be Jonathan Wertinger’s leftovers, either. Regardless of how appetizing they were.
Cady came racing up the slope, dripping wet, ball clutched in the back of her jaws. She pranced proudly in front of Ethan, circled him four times, squatted to pee, then paused to shake the water from her short fur. Then she dropped the ball at his feet.
Ethan picked up the ball, firing it toward the woods in the general vicinity of Diana’s house, and wondered what the chances were of throwing it the half-mile to her yard. Maybe he’d surprise her sunbathing or doing something equally as interesting.
Then, he remembered Diana mentioning something to Doc Horner about taking the cats in to see him today.
He grinned a slow, easy grin.
* * *
Diana struggled to pull Motto’s carrier from the back of the Lexus. She was sprawled across the seat, her feet on the pavement, her arms and shoulders stretched to the middle of the car where the carrier had somehow become entangled with the seatbelt. “You vicious cat,” she scolded Motto, certain that the recalcitrant feline had done it purposely.
“My, what a pretty sight,” drawled a voice behind her. It was a very familiar voice, and it startled Diana so much that she jerked her head and hit the ceiling.
She struggled to pull out of the car, crawling her hands backward across the seat, and whipped around to face him. “Didn’t your mother teach you it’s not nice to sneak up on people?” she said, a warm flush exploding over her face.
“Do you need some help?” Ethan asked courteously, ignoring her glare and leaning into the back of the Lexus. Within moments, he’d extracted the carrier and placed it on the pavement next to Arty’s cage.
“What are you doing here?”
“You mean besides helping damsels in distress?”
“Is that what you call sneaking up on me?”
“I had to bring Cady in to see Doc Horner. What are you doing here?”
Diana looked up at him, squinting in the sun that blazed over his shoulder. “Aunt Belinda’s cats are due for their shots. Who’s Cady?”
“My dog.” He turned to point toward an old white pickup. Diana saw a gigantic, black dog with huge white teeth sitting in the cab of the truck. He—or she—looked terrifying.
Her heart thudding in her throat, she picked up the cat carriers. “Oh, well, great. I guess I’ll see you later then.” She hurried toward the door of Doc Horner’s office, anxious to get away from the ferocious dog and its unsettling master.
She pushed open the doors of the veterinarian office with effort, attempting to keep the cat carriers upright and their cargo from hissing angrily.
“Good morning, Ms. Iverson.”
Diana felt her stomach plunge when she saw who greeted her behind the receptionist desk. “Hello, Mindy.” No wonder Ethan had decided to bring his dog to the vet. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. Have any trouble getting the cats ready to go?”
The door to the outside opened behind her, and she turned to see a huge black dog charging across the room, towing Ethan on the other end of the leash. Diana gasped and, grabbing the carriers, scooted behind the counter with Mindy.
“Well hello, you!” crooned Mindy, slipping out from the other side of the desk to greet the big dog. “Hi, Ethan! Good to see you again. Who’s this?”
“This is Cady.” Ethan tossed an amused look at Diana, who still cowered behind the desk and tried not to look as terrified as she felt.
Wrapping the lead around his fist, he said, “Cady, park it.” Instantly, the lab’s rump settled onto the floor, even though she was wriggling in delight at the attention from Mindy. When the beast stood again almost immediately, Ethan lowered his voice to a more menacing tone and reminded her, “Cady, I said park it.”
The dog sat again and Diana watched from her safe haven as Mindy and Ethan petted the lummox of a dog, accepting kisses from her long pink tongue. “Ugh!” she muttered to herself, aware that her heart still pounded at the sight of that ferocious hound. You won’t get me close to a dog that big in this lifetime.
Just then, Doc Horner emerged from one of the back rooms. “Well, Diana Iverson, I’m so glad to see you and those cats of Bee’s! And Ethan. What are you doing here? Come along with Diana?”
“No,” she told him firmly.
Ethan stood, shooting a look at her, and answered, “Naw, I need you to take a look at one of Cady’s paws. I think she may have strained it.”
“Chasing tennis balls again?” asked Doug Horner, crouching next to the dog-petting party.
Diana leaned against the counter, wondering how long she was going to be waiting for her appointment. Motto yowled as if she was wondering the same thing, but no one seemed to notice.
“Which leg is it?”
“Front left,” Ethan told him, then stood to lean against the other side of the desk from Diana. “I hope she’s okay,” he said, watching the vet palpate Cady’s leg.
“Seems fine to me. I don’t feel anything, and she’s not wincing at all. Walk her a bit, Min, and let’s see if she’s limping.”
Mindy obliged, and Diana found herself watching Ethan study the pair as they paraded around the office. She wondered if he was admiring the dog, or the vet’s niece, who was wearing brief shorts and a t-shirt cut off to show her navel.
Her navel. Diana shuddered. She couldn’t imagine showing off her own navel in public. Especially at work, in a professional office.
“Well, she doesn’t seem to be limping,” Doc Horner pulled himself to his feet. Diana thought she might have seen him shoot a knowing glance at Ethan, but then he just smiled. “Well, now, if she seems to be having any problems, you just let me know. And now,” he turned to Diana with a broader smile, “let’s take a look at those cats of yours.”
She followed him back into one of the examining rooms after a brief farewell glance at Ethan, who didn’t seem to notice her exit at all.
Getting two cats inoculated wasn’t as much of a trauma as she’d expected it to be. Doug Horner was calm and certain and he had them in and out of their carriers before she could say boo. In fact, he gave them their shots in less time than it had taken her to get them loaded into the carriers.
“There you go—all set.”
Just then, Mindy poked her head around the door. “Uncle Doug, it’s Pauline Whitten on the phone for you.”
Doc Horner’s already pale face seemed to drain of all color. “Can’t you tell her I’m with a patient?” His calm demeanor disintegrated into one of nervous anxiety.
“Uncle Doug, you’ve been having me lie to her all day. You just come on out here and take this call—she’s a sweet old lady. Totally harmless.” Mindy took her uncle’s arm firmly and steered him out of the room. “Excuse us, Ms. Iverson, but my uncle’s fiancée needs to speak with him.”
Diana heard his squeak of protest. “She’s not my fiancée!” she heard him exclaim as he was propelled down the hall.
“Yes she is,” she heard Mindy say reproachfully. “You just haven’t gotten around to asking her yet. I sure hope you do it before the Harvest Ball.”
Diana chuckled as she turned to pick up the cat carriers. Just then, the door to the examining room opened and Ethan came in, minus Cady. “Let me help you get those out to your car,” he offered, taking Arty’s carrier before she could say anything.
“Where’s your dog?” Diana asked, looking around anxiously.
“In the truck.”
“Ethan,” she said suddenly. He paused in front of the door, and she spoke rapidly, “Listen, I wanted to apologize for the other night. I didn’t mean to make you feel manipulated, or used. It was irresponsible and immat—”
“Hey,” he said, looking down at her. “No sweat. I was closer to the phone. It was innocent. Until I made it otherwise,” he added, his voice dropping so low it seemed to slide along her skin. He held her eyes for a moment, then added, “So maybe I ought to be the one apologizing.”
Diana felt alive and hot all at once. He didn’t look the least bit sorry, and, to tell the truth, she didn’t feel it either. Holding Motto’s carrier with two wrists crossed in front of her, she tried to ignore her thumping heart. “Apology accepted,” she said, her own voice shamefully husky. “No big deal.”
She started to brush past him, but he stood firm, forcing her to take a step backward or to be standing right on top of him. Oh God, was he going to kiss her again? Right here?
He looked down at her, his brown eyes warm and steady. “The quilting group is expecting you to stop by, don’t forget. I’ll walk over there with you if you don’t mind—I need to pick out a quilt for Fiona’s wedding.”
Why had she never noticed how disgustingly long and thick his lashes were? “I can’t leave the cats in the car ….” she said.
He shrugged, and Arty’s carrier shifted and rolled. “Doc Horner would let you leave them in the back—he has kennels for the animal shelter in that barn, you know. And he’d probably be tickled if you went to visit the ladies and got Pauline Whitten off his back for a minute.” He grinned, and heat flooded Diana so that she forgot her hesitations. His smile was so devastating it sent all lucid thought scattering from her mind.
Then, she forced herself to get serious. “What about Mindy?” Diana asked coolly. Maybe he was trying to make the other woman jealous—not that he needed to, from the looks she’d been giving him.
Ethan shrugged again. “What about her? Come on, I’ll help you put these in the back. You can’t disappoint those ladies—Helen Galliday will never forgive you.”
He took the other carrier from her with ease, and turned to walk toward the back of the veterinary hospital to a white steel barn. Diana had no choice but to follow him, and as they drew nearer, she heard the clamor of cats and dogs waiting to find new owners. She realized that the inheritance from Aunt Belinda would be going directly to help these particular animals and she smiled in satisfaction. That was good.
A short time later, Ethan pulled into the parking lot of a little shop off Route 213. Diana had barely stepped out of the truck when Helen Galliday was thumping out onto the small porch.
“Well it’s about time you decided to show up, missy.” The old lady began her lecture before Diana had even pulled her purse from the truck. “We were beginning to think you weren’t going to come by and see our place! Now come on in, before all the bugs get in.” She gestured with her cane at the front door she’d left gaping behind her.
“Now, Mrs. Galliday, it’s only eleven o’clock,” Ethan said soothingly as he followed them up the steps to the porch. “You know Diana wouldn’t have missed this for the world, and you don�
�t close for another three hours.”
“She’s late. She left Doug Horner’s place over twenty minutes ago. And Pauline gave up her Scrabble game to be here.” Helen frowned, and turned just inside the front door to grasp Diana’s arm with her talons and pull her inside. “Come on in, young lady.”
Diana flashed an amused glance at Ethan. “Hello, everyone,” she smiled, stepping into the small shop.
It was just what one might expect of a small, country-crafts operation—blue geese adorned the shop in every possible medium: on stencils around the top of the wall, wooden ones hung on pegs scattered throughout the room, painted ones on heavy stoneware dishes, embroidered ones on finger towels, and even ones printed on linen and canvas cloths. And then there was the apple motif—hand-painted on cookie jars, appliquéd on napkins and placemats, woven into small area rugs. And, of course, there were quilts of all sizes, colors, and types on display everywhere.
“Diana, it’s so nice to see you again.” Martha Woden peered in her general vicinity from behind coke-bottle glasses.
“You can’t see nothin’,” Helen muttered, steering Diana further into the shop. “Come on back into the workshop and see our quilt.”
“Oh, yes, do come back,” Pauline Whitten hauled her bulk to her feet. Diana noticed that her nails had been changed to a blood-red color that matched the ruby on her right middle finger. Somehow, she managed to usurp Helen’s position at Diana’s elbow and murmur into her ear, “Douglas mentioned that he saw you and your young man up to his office today.”