Impossible Dreams

by Patricia Rice

  He glanced warily at the enormous laughing dragon flying high above his head. “And I suppose the dragon told you where he wanted his streamers?”

  “Of course.” She crossed to the counter and produced her carafe. “Tea?”

  “Not now.” He watched as she poured hot water into unfamiliar china. “Where are your teacups?”

  She looked briefly embarrassed before she threw up her usual defenses and shrugged. “They’re still at the school in a box. I haven’t remembered to bring them back.”

  He wouldn’t have thought anything of it except for that brief embarrassment. Those teacups meant something special to her. He didn’t like the idea of them still in their packing box, ready to be moved at a moment’s notice. They were all Maya had that were truly hers, he realized.

  He’d learned that confronting Maya wasn’t any easier than getting direct answers from Constance. Instead, he took the indirect route. “Stephen’s band took that show at the club in Charlotte?”

  She pulled a bottle of mineral water from beneath the counter and threw it in his direction. “The album’s done and the tour won’t start for months. They have to do something.”

  Axell caught the bottle and unscrewed the top. It gave him something to do while he quelled the imps wreaking havoc with his stomach. He couldn’t object to a father wanting to be near his daughter, not with any rationality anyway. It was Stephen’s proximity to Maya that was driving him crazy. He glanced upward. “He’s back then?”

  Maya grinned and sat cross-legged on the cushion of one of the giant high-backed wicker chairs she’d added to the inventory. “If I know Stevie, he’s sawing logs. He doesn’t come awake until the owls do. Sit down, Axell. You make me nervous prowling around like that.”

  Instead, he crossed the room to examine the row of painted sneakers behind the counter. “You’re still taking orders for these things?”

  “They’re fun, and almost pure profit. I’m working up a book of different characters people can choose from. I took in fifty dollars yesterday,” she added defensively.

  At fifty dollars a day, the shop could scarcely pay the utilities, but it was better than where they’d started. He hadn’t come in here to criticize. Axell swung around and took the other chair beside her. Thank heaven she’d sold those hideous wrought-iron things.

  “The transportation board is going ahead with land condemnation proceedings. They’re calling for a public meeting next month.” He hadn’t wanted to tell her. The school had just had their first full summer session this week, and Maya had been so excited, she’d almost closed Cleo’s shop in celebration. Only a curt note from her sister had dimmed her exuberance and forced her to agree to teaching afternoon classes only.

  It seemed Cleo might be getting time off for good behavior. She hadn’t been very polite in her inquiries about Matty and the store. He was having grave doubts about the sister.

  He didn’t know which was harder on Maya, the shop or the school, but he loved having her close at hand for breaks like this. Usually, she had the kids with her, but today, Matty and Constance were on a field trip, leaving just Alexa to coo in her cradle. If it weren’t for his unhappy news, he could be using the time to woo her a little.

  At his warning, Maya bit her bottom lip and turned troubled eyes toward the dancing prisms in the window. The speakers blared a mournful Gaelic folk song, and Axell had the urge to smash them into plastic grounds. He had a lot of explosive urges lately, but fortunately, he’d curbed them.

  “Well, I suppose we’ll have to see to it that the public supports us,” she finally responded with her usual cheer. “The Pfeiffer property is practically an historic monument. How could they want an ugly old road in its place?”

  Very easily, Axell wanted to remind her. People preferred shortcuts to the grocery store over historic monuments. But he didn’t have the heart to shoot down her cloud. By now, he realized Maya knew when she was ignoring reality. She did it deliberately. It saved a storm of tears and rage and avoided the confrontations she so thoroughly disliked. He couldn’t argue with that attitude, since it saved him tons of grief too.

  “We’ll start a campaign,” he replied gently. He didn’t have much hope of it working, but he didn’t want to let her down either. They were still at that awkward stage of courtship where they skirted around all the issues while warily testing each other’s boundaries. Well, he was wary. Maya had a habit of treading his toes whenever it occurred to her. The purple larkspur on his dining room walls had grown six-feet tall.

  “Won’t it be costly to build a road in a flood zone?” she asked, wrinkling her brow as she sipped her tea.

  Pow! Right between the eyes. Axell stared at his amazing wife in incredulity. “Sometimes, you’re a lot more connected than I realize,” he declared before his brain kicked in and he gave a mental groan at his unintended insult.

  She beamed her understanding gypsy smile over the rim of her cup. “Gotcha.”

  Oh, God, that look struck him with the full force of an arrow through the heart. Rattled, he set down his water and stood. The mayor would kill him if he approached the city council with this new tactic. Asking for a cost study would delay everything. He could be certain the ABC inspectors would return. But Maya’s beaming smile bestowed him with invincibility. Or lust was infecting his brain. “I’ll look into it. People understand taxes and money more than historic monuments.”

  “Thought so,” Maya murmured, lowering her cup and watching him hurry to the door. She didn’t think civilization was healthy for Viking gods. Axell looked as if he needed a broadax and helmet as he stalked into the sunlight, his square jaw set for war. He really needed some violent physical outlet besides pens and legal posturing.

  She thought she knew what he really needed, but he didn’t seem willing to commit to the physical side of their marriage yet. She hadn’t decided whether that was a relief or not. She was physically more than ready. Just watching Axell bare-chested and sweating as he’d dug the hole for her gardenia bush had almost boiled her blood and melted her resistance. But emotionally, she was a basket case, and sex could easily upset the basket.

  Having a life steeped in irony instead of disaster was a pleasant change, she reflected as she finished her tea and watched Alexa waving her fingers at dust motes. Or maybe the continually looming disasters were cushioned by the distance and comfort Axell provided. She was still in danger of losing her school and all the dreams it represented. Stephen was overhead, scheming to separate her from her daughter.

  And Axell wasn’t exactly offering her passion or love.

  Well, as she’d decided long before, she didn’t need either. She could survive knowing the children were happy. They could give her the love she missed.

  Only, sometimes, in her dreams maybe, she really, really wished she could have something deeper and more satisfying than sex and safety with Axell.

  The door chimed and Katherine the Long-Legged intruded on Maya’s reverie. Relaxed on the high of jasmine tea, Maya merely smiled and lifted her cup in greeting. “Come to buy a love potion to bind our favorite mayor into matrimony?” she asked without resentment.

  Katherine’s smooth blond hair bobbed as she swung to find Maya nearly hidden by the huge chair. “What the devil do you mean by that?”

  “Leos can’t tolerate loneliness,” Maya replied calmly, pouring more tea. “And they love the center of attention. The mayor is a perfect choice for you. You’d make a good politician’s wife.”

  Looking shell-shocked, Katherine dropped into the chair across from her and accepted the cup of tea Maya pushed toward her. “You’re spooky, you know that?”

  Maya shrugged. “Nah, I’ve just learned survival. I’m better at astrology than tarot, but I can read your cards if you’d like.”

  “I don’t believe in that mumbo-jumbo,” Katherine said. “I’ve just come to tell you that Ralph’s willing to cut a deal with you over the Pfeiffer property so we can speed up proceedings rather than waiting on DOT.�
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  Maya handed Katherine the tarot deck. “Shuffle,” she insisted. “Humor me.”

  Katherine grabbed the deck and shuffled half-heartedly. “There’s no reason we can’t come to some suitable compromise without dragging this into the hostilities of a public meeting.” She smacked the deck down on the intricately carved wooden table Maya had discovered in the store room.

  Laying out the cards, Maya raised her eyebrows as Death appeared, but she didn’t interpret the possibilities out loud. “Oh, I imagine the hostilities will come from the taxpayers who discover how much a bridge over that creek will cost, not from me. The direct route is not always the best one.”

  She tapped a card in front of her. “Take love, for instance. Coupled with the Fool over here,” she tapped another card, “it doesn’t stand a chance in the normal run of things.” She tapped another card. “But if you subvert the Fool with power, sort of do an end run around the goal as Axell puts it, then you can tackle the unsuspecting object of your interest.”

  Tearing her gaze away from the horrifying Death card that Maya ignored, Katherine looked at her with disbelief. “You’re crazier than a bedbug.”

  Maya shrugged and smiled. “I’ve never seen a bedbug, but I’ve never seen a crazy insect either. They know exactly what they’re doing. Wish the mayor well for me.”

  For a moment, Katherine cast the scattered cards a hesitant look. Then she shook her head and pushed her chair back. “I take it that means you’re going to drag this into a legal battle.”

  “Oh, Axell will hire lawyers, I’m sure.” Maya curled up in her chair and insouciantly sipped her tea. “Me, I’ll just take it to the people. Did you know the Garden Club asked me to join them? It seems they’re aching to get their green thumbs on some of those old-fashioned roses out at the school.”

  That topic wasn’t as irrelevant as it sounded. The Garden Club was an old Southern tradition. It included the wives of some of the richest and most influential men in town. Maya benevolently refrained from grinning as Katherine absorbed that blow. Maybe she would learn how to fight back from a position of power. It sure beat running.

  “You don’t own that property,” Katherine warned. “The lease can still be challenged. And if Axell’s not careful, he could be too busy with the ABC board to care.” She slammed out with a violent tinkling of chimes.

  Well, two points to the lady in the red suit — she’d hit the school and Axell’s major weak spots. Maya glanced at the tarot layout and frowned. She wished she was a little better at actually reading the cards instead of playing with people’s minds. She didn’t like the looks of that Death card in Katherine’s pack. Generally, it meant some form of transformation, not something so literal as death. But she very definitely did not like the threat in the lady’s voice. Did Axell’s kindnesses have a cost — her school for his license?

  ***

  “You look like you need a drink, honey,” the woman at the bar murmured as she leaned over and pushed a glass toward Axell, bending just enough to expose an astounding expanse of cleavage for his benefit.

  Her heavy perfume soaked his senses more than a bottle of rum. Fascinated by the deep shadow between the heavy platform of her breasts, Axell wondered how she held up all that weight. Without thinking, he sipped the drink she shoved at him. He sputtered and almost spat out the whiskey. Knowing his preferences, Maya always handed him water.

  The perfume and the whiskey and thoughts of Maya stirred baser interests, and Axell shifted uncomfortably on the stool. The woman beside him could pull local political strings, and he’d thought it circumspect to garner her interest, but not this kind of interest. He frowned at the blood red fingernails tapping the sleeve of his suit. Maya had said he didn’t notice women, but there was a reason for that. He didn’t want to get involved.

  He pushed her hand away and stood up. “My wife’s waiting and I have to go.”

  He liked the freedom that one little sentence offered. The minute some barracuda closed in for the kill, he could wave Maya like a harpoon. They didn’t have to know she was harmless.

  Almost harmless. She had the power to stir sexual images he’d thought he’d left behind with adolescence, but Axell figured that was a result of prolonged abstinence. He rather enjoyed idling a spare minute or three conjuring up the moment when he confirmed his memory that she was a natural redhead.

  He hadn’t found the perfect opportunity yet. He was always home late and didn’t want to disturb her or the kids by trespassing on their side of the house. Maybe he should hire a sitter and take Maya out on a formal date of some sort. Constance would probably hunt them down afterward, but his bedroom door had locks. He’d have to figure out how to know when Maya was ready. He hated trying to read a woman’s mind. Had he missed her signals already?

  Thinking the evening was fairly quiet and maybe he could escape early, Axell sighed in frustration as Headley strode through the front door, looking primed for bear. He thought the damned man had decided to retire, but he knew that look. The metropolis of Wadeville had just suffered a newsworthy act of violence.

  Axell didn’t try to hide as Headley stalked toward him. The old man was as close to a father figure as he’d had since his own father had died. He cleared a stool at the end of the bar and Headley signaled the bartender for his usual.

  “I don’t suppose I can be so lucky as to hope Katherine murdered the mayor?” Axell inquired facetiously as the reporter threw back his requested drink.

  The older man turned his shaggy white head and glared at him. “Almost as good. Old Man Pfeiffer died tonight. The coroner doesn’t think it was from natural causes.”

  Pfeiffer. Maya’s landlord. The school would now be owned by a motley lot of scattered relatives who would all demand its sale.

  The cops wouldn’t have to look far for motives for murder. The problem would be deciding which one of all those cockroach relatives would be the most likely suspect.

  And the clamor for Maya to give up her dream would escalate.

  ***

  January, 1946

  I proposed marriage to Dolly today. She accepted. Her father promoted me to general manager as of the first of the month.

  I will have to tell Helen.

  Twenty-four

  Lead me not into temptation. I can find it myself.

  Later that night, while bending over to reach the strawberries in the fruit drawer of the refrigerator, Maya nearly jumped out of her nightie as the kitchen door slammed behind her. Axell never slammed doors.

  She swung around to face a man shredding the last black thread of his temper — a far cry from the calm, self-assured character she’d married. As his steely gaze slid to the garbage heaps of crumpled newspapers on his once pristine kitchen floor to the clutter of paint pots, paste, and streamers across the antique kitchen table, Maya thought he’d lose his grip for certain.

  The dangerous flare of his nostrils and the sensual narrowing of his eyes as his gaze finally settled on her — or her scanty nightshirt — warned the disintegration of Axell’s personal Berlin Wall had begun on all fronts.

  Maya shivered in anticipation as he looked from the rather revealing neckline of her silky shirt to the length of her legs exposed by the high hem, and back again to focus on her breasts. She had the urge to cross her arms to protect herself, but the imp inside her head took command. Maybe she hadn’t deliberately planned this scene, but subconsciously, she was capable of anything. She propped her hands on the table behind her and struck a seductive pose.

  “Finally broke you, did I?” she taunted.

  She should have remembered Norse gods were dangerous and unpredictable when provoked. The hank of golden hair cascading over Axell’s brow nearly quivered with his intensity. He’d thrown off his suit coat and tie in the humidity of the May night, and his shoulders strained at the tailored cut of his blue silk shirt.

  Fixated on the V of his open shirt collar, Maya didn’t dare drop her gaze lower. She didn’t generally inspire men
to unbridled passion — unless it was fury — but she sensed Axell had gone past the point of reason.

  He struggled gamely to regain control, but when she deliberately rested her weight on her hands, flaunting her breasts in his face, he threw restraint to the winds. Dropping his coat on a kitchen chair, he narrowed the distance between them in a single step.

  Maya gasped as Axell swung her against him as easily as he did Matty. Slammed against his broad chest, her feet dangling inches from the floor, she nearly succumbed to heart failure as she grabbed for his shoulders. When Axell’s mouth covered hers, she stopped functioning on any rational level at all.

  She tasted the whiskey of his breath as his mouth crushed hers. His hand cupped her bottom through the thin nightshirt, and she knew the strength with which he held her was far greater than her own. Experience had taught her to fear the combination of power and alcohol. But Axell’s breath was sweet with the taste of desire, and she’d wanted to sample it for so long, she couldn’t resist now. The reassuring heat of his hand through her shirt melted any resistance that remained. She trusted him — in this, at least.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, Maya surrendered to the heady bliss of Axell’s kiss. If this was a sample of the passionate nature he so successfully penned inside, she’d have to drive him to the brink more often. Arching her breasts against his chest, crooking one leg around his knee, Maya opened her mouth beneath his, until all the air expelled from his lungs, and he drank desperately of hers. She gave without protest or complaint, not only accepting his devouring kiss, but meeting it with an equal hunger.

  Greedily, Axell set her on the table and molded her breasts with his palms. Lifting his head long enough to admire the treasure he had captured, he murmured, “I never thought I could be jealous of a baby. Alexa doesn’t know what’s good for her.”