Overheated

by Barbara Dunlop

  The dog named Rufus was waiting for them in the compact kitchen.

  “Oh, man,” Crystal moaned. “The poor guy needs a walk.”

  “I’ll take him,” Larry immediately offered, since, obviously, Crystal couldn’t leave the children to walk the dog.

  After settling David in the spare bedroom, Larry clipped the leash on Rufus. The dog seemed more than willing to come with him, and Larry followed Crystal’s directions to a pathway that was partially lighted by the overhead lights of the parking lot.

  It was a quick walk, and soon they were trotting back up the staircase.

  Larry knocked gently on the door, and Crystal opened it, still in her pale-blue dress, but now with bare feet.

  “Thanks,” she breathed, stepping out of the way. “I know you don’t like me to call you nice.”

  He moved inside. “Couldn’t you call me rugged or macho or something instead?”

  “It was very macho of you to walk my dog.”

  “That’s better,” he acknowledged, pulling the door closed behind him and removing Rufus’s leash.

  “Coffee?” asked Crystal.

  He glanced at his watch. “You sure it’s not too late?”

  “Nine-thirty?”

  “You do have to get up for school in the morning.”

  Crystal crossed to the cupboards, opened the corner one, then stretched up to reach the bright red mugs on the top shelf. The action pulled up her hem, revealing a few more inches of shapely thigh.

  Larry felt a pulse throb through his brain.

  “Cream or sugar?” she asked.

  “Black,” he responded, dragging his gaze away.

  She set the cups on the countertop, and her dress settled back into place.

  The coffeemaker finished filling the carafe, and she poured two steaming cups, taking hers black as well. Then she handed one to Larry, nodding to the small, connected living-room area.

  Rufus followed at Larry’s heels.

  Crystal took one end of the burgundy couch, and Larry sat down in the other, setting his mug on the end table beside him. The dog curled up next to his feet.

  “We okay?” he asked her.

  She nodded, crooking one knee and planting her back against the arm of the sofa so that she faced him.

  He nodded toward the bedroom. “They going to be okay?”

  “I hope so,” said Crystal. “Zane won’t hang around long. I just hope…” She got a faraway look in her eyes.

  “Hope what?” he prompted.

  “Last time he did this, things got ugly for Amber.”

  A horrible thought came into Larry’s mind. “Is he abusive?”

  “Not physically. Certainly emotionally.” Crystal paused for a sip of her coffee. “Let’s just say my sister has a troubled relationship with alcohol. Normally, she’s fine. But in times of stress, she leans on it a bit too much for support. And the last time Zane left, it was a time of stress. I ended up keeping Jennifer and David here for a month until she got herself straightened out. I have a feeling it’s going to happen again.”

  Rufus gave a little moan, shifting onto his side and stretching his legs out on the wooden floor.

  “How long ago was that?” Larry asked.

  “Two years.”

  “So, the kids remember?”

  She gave a nod. “They remember.”

  Larry’s gaze flicked to the door of the spare bedroom.

  “What about you?” he asked Crystal.

  She looked puzzled. “Do I remember?”

  “Any exes in your past likely to rear their heads?”

  “My husband died two years ago.”

  Larry felt an instant pang of empathy. “I’m so sorry. I lost my wife, Libby, three years ago.”

  “Did you love her?” asked Crystal.

  “Very much.”

  “I didn’t love Simon.” Crystal surprised him by saying. Then she gave a nervous laugh. “That sounds callous, doesn’t it? But it’s true.”

  “You married a man you didn’t love?”

  That definitely puzzled Larry. Crystal must have had her pick of a thousand men.

  “I thought I loved him. Doesn’t that sound pathetic? I saw what I wanted to see, until I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.”

  “What was it you didn’t see?”

  “His fixation on my body.”

  “Ouch,” said Larry, feeling even guiltier than he had before. That must be why she’d jumped down his throat.

  “To the exclusion of anything else,” she elaborated. “Simon and I had other problems.” She lifted her coffee mug in a mock toast. “He loved the red dress.”

  “You don’t have to wear the red dress,” Larry quickly put in.

  “I know,” she said. “Trust me when I tell you, I’m never wearing anything I don’t want to wear, ever again.”

  Yet, she’d offered to wear the red dress for him. Larry didn’t want to speculate about what that meant. Well, he did want to speculate, but he knew that was dangerous territory.

  “I’d asked him for a divorce,” she said, eyes getting a faraway look. “The night before he was killed. I was all set to divorce him, then suddenly I was the grieving widow.”

  Larry couldn’t even fathom her experience. He’d mourned Libby for months, years even, taking solace in his work. “How was Simon killed?”

  “Scuba equipment failure. He was in the Navy. What about Libby?”

  “Heart attack,” said Larry, even now struggling to keep the emotion out of his voice. “We didn’t even know there was a problem with her heart.”

  Crystal watched his expression closely.

  “It was people like you that made me feel like a fake,” she whispered. “People who deserved the sympathy, the cards, the flowers and the eulogy. Through it all, I wanted to stand up and shout that I was a fraud. I was going to divorce the man. But I knew it wouldn’t have helped. Other people needed to grieve, and they needed me to play my role. So I pretended I’d loved him, pretended I cried and pretended he was the paragon they made him out to be at the memorial service.”

  “You did the right thing,” Larry offered.

  She wrapped her arms around herself in a hug. “And then there’s his service pension and life insurance.” Her voice went lower still. “I can’t spend it. Every penny of that money is still sitting in the bank.”

  Larry glanced around the plainly furnished apartment. “You are his widow. You’re legally entitled-”

  She shook her head emphatically.

  “You have to do something with the money.”

  “Maybe if I have kids someday. Maybe for Jennifer’s and David’s educations. But not for me.”

  “Penance?” asked Larry.

  “Integrity,” she responded.

  He drained his coffee cup. “I can respect that.”

  The woman had brains and integrity. He admired both. She looked so vulnerable curled up under the soft lamplight.

  The urge to draw her into his arms was definitely growing strong. He forced himself to stand up, determined to get out of here before he did something both stupid and inappropriate.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  C RYSTAL WAS DREAMING OF expressive, hazel eyes, broad shoulders and tousled, dark hair. Larry drew her into his arms, whispering in her ear. She couldn’t make out the words, but she could feel the puff of his breath on her skin.

  He was panting.

  Then his cold, wet nose touched her shoulder.

  Wait a minute.

  She blinked her eyes in the dim light, coming face-to-face with Rufus.

  Crystal groaned.

  The dog cocked his head, ascertained she was awake, then turned toward the door. Two paces later, he stopped and looked back, obviously expecting her to follow.

  “Now?” she asked aloud.

  His brows knit apologetically.

  She supposed this was what she got for taking in a geriatric dog.

  She threw back the covers, planting her bare feet on the woven
mat, then tugging her light, sleeveless nightgown down her thighs.

  “All right,” she told the dog, following behind. “I’ll open the door, but you’re on your own out there.”

  Hopefully, Rufus would be smart enough to water a tree behind the back fence and hightail it back into the apartment. She took her responsibility as a pet owner seriously. But she took her responsibility as a babysitting auntie more seriously.

  She followed Rufus through the living room where, to her surprise, he veered off to the spare bedroom.

  “Hey,” she hissed. “No. This way.”

  Again, he stopped, glancing over his shoulder, waiting patiently.

  Then she heard it.

  Muffled sobs coming from the kids’ room.

  She quickly scooted past Rufus to find David, his face burrowed in his pillow, his little body quivering beneath the sheet.

  “Hey, buddy,” she crooned, smoothing his dark hair and crouching down beside the bed.

  She gave Rufus a grateful scratch on the head.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked gently, trying not to wake Jennifer who was in the other twin bed across the room.

  David shook his head, sniffing and drawing in a shuddering breath.

  She grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and handed it to him.

  He haphazardly wiped his nose.

  “Are you sad?” asked Crystal.

  He shook his head.

  “Scared?”

  A small, hesitant nod.

  “Did you have a bad dream?”

  He nodded again.

  “Come here,” Crystal groaned, slipped her arms around his waist. “Give me a hug.”

  He came willingly out of the bed in his Superman pajamas, and she slid down to the floor, sitting him across her lap. His skinny arms went around her neck, and he tucked his face against her shoulder.

  “Can you tell me about it?” she asked.

  “It was…” He took three rapid indrawn breaths. “A monster.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” She rubbed his back. “No wonder you were scared.”

  His arms tightened.

  “But it’s all over,” she crooned.

  “He was big and hairy, and he roared like an angry lion.”

  “Auntie Crystal’s here now.” She tried again.

  “And I tried to run. But my legs were stuck, and then…and then…”

  Crystal’s heart went out to him.

  “Mommy came,” David whimpered.

  “Did Mommy save you?” asked Crystal.

  David shook his head. “The monster got Mommy.”

  Crystal’s heart lodged in her throat.

  The monster was big and hairy, and he yelled.

  She nearly groaned out loud. There was every possibility the monster was Zane.

  She brushed David’s sweaty hair from his face. “You know the monster’s not real, don’t you?”

  He hesitated, but then he nodded.

  “Dreams are just your brain making up crazy pictures.”

  David nodded again.

  Crystal drew him away so she could see his face in the dim light.

  “I once dreamed I landed on the moon,” she told him. “And I met a pink bunny. She was made entirely of cotton candy, except she had licorice whiskers.” Crystal wrinkled her nose then made a show of licking her lips. “She looked delicious.”

  David cracked a smile.

  “So I asked her.” Crystal paused. “Can you guess what I asked her?”

  David shrugged.

  “I asked if I could eat her tail.”

  His eyes went wide, while Crystal made up the sweetest, tamest dream story she could conjure.

  “She told me yes,” said Crystal. “She said it wouldn’t hurt, and her tail would grow back.”

  “Did you eat it?” asked David.

  “You bet,” said Crystal. “And then her friend Bobo came along. Can you guess what Bobo was made of?”

  David pursed his little lips. “Marshmallows?”

  “Yes,” said Crystal. “Bobo was a little wiener dog made out of marshmallows.”

  “Shouldn’t he be made of wieners?”

  “Like I said, dreams are crazy.” She rolled her eyes. “A wiener dog made out of marshmallows. Isn’t that the silliest thing?”

  “The silliest thing would be the Mallo-Puffs Man made out of wieners.”

  Crystal giggled. “That would be sillier,” she agreed. She rubbed a finger across the tip of his nose. “But not as tasty.”

  “Did you eat the marshmallow dog?”

  “Only his tail. That’s the way it was on the moon. You could eat the tails, but nothing else.”

  David sobered. “I wish I had candy dreams.”

  “What’s your favorite candy?”

  “Caramel.”

  “And what’s your favorite animal?”

  He thought for a moment. “An elephant.”

  “And what would a caramel elephant be named?”

  “Mr. Sticky.”

  “Great name.”

  David nodded.

  “When you lie down again-”

  His arms convulsively tightened around her neck.

  “-I want you to think about all the adventures Mr. Sticky could have.” She almost said on the moon, but quickly switched the thought. “In Candy Land,” she finished.

  “What if the monster comes back?”

  “In Candy Land,” Crystal said softly, “monsters are made of ice cream. And since Candy Land is warm, they melt away.”

  David looked skeptical.

  “Tell you what,” she said, trying one last idea. “How would you feel if I let Rufus sleep up on the bed with you?”

  David looked at Rufus then back at Crystal. “Really?”

  She nodded. “Really.”

  David compressed his lips bravely. “Okay.”

  Crystal smiled. “Good. Hop up then.”

  He straightened his skinny legs, standing to climb back under the covers.

  She tucked him in, then patted the foot of the bed. “Come on, Rufus.”

  The dog looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “Up here,” she said encouragingly with another pat.

  Rufus cocked his head, eyes narrowing.

  “Come on, Rufus,” called David.

  The dog gave Crystal one last, searching, suspicious look. Then he rose to his feet, gathered his body and jumped onto the bed.

  “Good, boy,” she sang, scratching behind both his ears. “Now, lie down.”

  She’d already learned that lie down was a familiar command to Rufus. He curled his body next to David’s feet, then dropped his head down on his front paws.

  She moved back to the head of the bed. “You going to be okay?” she asked David.

  He nodded.

  “Remember, Mr. Sticky and his adventures in Candy Land.”

  “With his faithful dog, Rufus?”

  “What’s Rufus made of?”

  “Bubble gum.”

  “Perfect,” said Crystal, giving David a final kiss on the forehead.

  “G’ night, Auntie Crystal.”

  “Good night, David.”

  She glanced over to Jennifer’s bed.

  The girl’s eyes were open.

  Crystal moved across the room and straightened the covers. “Good night to you, too, sweetheart.”

  “I like Rufus,” Jennifer whispered.

  “I like Rufus, too,” said Crystal as Jennifer’s eyes fluttered close.

  Crystal walked to the bedroom door, pausing to gaze back at her beautiful niece and nephew and the somewhat scruffy Lab who seemed to be standing guard over them.

  Her tomorrow would revolve around another dinner with Larry. But she’d have to find a way to talk to Amber, as well. If Zane was the monster in David’s nightmare, then he had to get out of their lives-permanently, and soon.

  AFTER LIBBY DIED, LARRY’S family and friends had told him to get on with his life. Get a hobby, they’d said, don�
�t work so hard. As if throwing himself into his work wasn’t the best and only way to keep from going insane with grief.

  He’d ignored them, and his approach had worked. For a while.

  But on this last wedding anniversary, something inside him snapped. He realized he needed to rejoin the human race. And to do that, he needed to take on something brand new, something totally unconnected with Libby. So, he’d taken his family’s advice, used some of the money he’d earned through mathematically calculating the stock market, and bought himself a hobby-a big, old Victorian house on the shores of Myrtle Pond.

  Two hours northeast of Charlotte, the tiny community of Myrtle Pond was on the edge of the national forest. The road in was worn and potholed. He had a total of fifteen neighbors. Calling the big house a fixer-upper was being kind, but it was exactly what he wanted, needed.

  He’d stocked up on power tools and two-by-fours and transported them to the house last month. Today, since he’d been up at four o’clock-which wasn’t a problem, because he’d been cursed his entire life with a need for only four hours sleep-he’d fired up his compact Cessna airplane and flown from Charlotte to Myrtle Pond.

  By one in the afternoon, crowbar in hand, he was staring at a pile of broken drywall, bent nails and the bare two-by-four frame of the formal dining room.

  “Do you have the first clue about what you’re doing?” came a man’s voice from behind him.

  Larry turned to see his nearest neighbor Nash Walkins standing in work boots, blue jeans and a faded T-shirt. Nash wore his usual orange baseball cap, and his burly arms were folded across his chest.

  He owned a fishing store and boat rental business now, but Larry had learned he was once an architect in New York City.

  “Not even the slightest,” Larry admitted. He’d hoped that by revealing the guts of the sagging wall, it would become obvious how to fix it. He had a number of reference books and some faded building plans for a similar house.

  He’d decided to start with the dining room, since it seemed to be in the worst shape, followed by the upstairs bathroom, the kitchen and, well, pretty much everything else except the master bedroom, which had been redecorated by the previous owner.

  Nash took a step forward. “You’re gonna want a jack to support that while you cut out the dry rot.”

  A jack. Good idea. “Can I get one around here?”

  “You’ll have to head up to Asheboro. Drucker’s will have them in stock.”