by V. K. Powell
Yesterday she’d marveled at Leigh’s uninhibited physicality and ease with her friends. But Leigh’s indifference to social decorum in her new landlord’s backyard worried her. What if Leigh was a reckless thrill seeker with no regard for anyone but herself and her desires? She’d need to clarify a few more ground rules if this regrettable rental arrangement was going to work. And in order to do that, she’d have to talk to her again. Shit.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t carry on a decent conversation. She didn’t want to. Conversation gave others the mistaken idea that she wanted to share. Nothing could be further from the truth. She had no energy for or interest in having a getting-to-know-you chat with another woman. Sharing led to relationships and eventually to pain. As little contact with Leigh Monroe as possible was the order of the day, every day.
Macy finished her coffee, glanced at the studio door, and stepped outside just as the morning started to bleed color. She loved the dance between the tendrils of darkness still clinging to the sky and the shocks of light breaking through. She’d painted this scene many times but never quite perfected the magic feeling of promise that was daybreak.
Grabbing her gardening gloves and trowel from the potting table outside the door, she headed for the first of several flowerbeds that ringed the house. The last frost of the season had passed, and it was time to plant annuals. She’d helped her parents sow the original perennial seeds when she was a child and knew exactly where each black-eyed Susan, iris, and daylily would sprout. She visualized the location for the marigolds, zinnias, and petunias she planned to disperse among the existing plants. Just the thought of color surrounding the house lifted her spirits and erased the troubling thoughts of Leigh Monroe.
When she settled on the ground, the cool dampness of the morning earth seeped through the knees of her sweatpants. She turned the weathered mulch and inhaled the musty aroma of fertile soil. Sliding her gloves off, she buried her hands in the black richness and sifted the textured dirt through her fingers. She felt a part of the earth, joined with the energy of new life that sprang from it. She carefully lifted a squirming worm from the hole she’d started and relocated him to the back of the flowerbed. “You’ll be safe here.”
“Guess it’s true then.”
“Shit.” She scrambled backward on her hands, her butt dragging the ground like a backstroking crab. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. What’s true?”
“About the early bird getting the worm—that was a worm I saw you fondling, wasn’t it?”
Blood and heat rushed to her face. “I wasn’t fondling—” Leigh grinned. “You’re teasing me again. It’s a shame I can’t tell the difference anymore. I need to—”
“I was wondering—” They spoke at the same time and Leigh waved her hand graciously. “Go ahead, please.”
With Leigh in front of her now, fully clothed, the objection to her behavior yesterday seemed less important. “I hope you aren’t planning any more semi-nude bathing parties. The neighbors may not be next door, but this is still rural, conservative North Carolina. A little more restraint would be appreciated.” And a little more warning. Leigh was like a ninja skulking around the property.
Leigh’s amused grin didn’t fade. “Did I embarrass you?”
“No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve seen plenty of nude women, just not in the backyard in broad-open daylight. I mean, I’ve…” She pulled on her earlobe like a kid unable to explain bad behavior, babbling about something she probably shouldn’t have broached in the first place.
“No one was actually nude, you know. We were just as clothed as if we’d been in bathing suits, except it was tighty-whities. But I promise to be more discreet.”
The image of a stuffy principal disciplining an errant student flashed through Macy’s mind. “Just be careful and have respect for the neighbors.” She was anxious to move on before she trussed herself any tighter into an ill-fitting moral straitjacket. “What were you going to say?”
“Could you give me a lay of the land? I’m all keyed up this morning. Thought a run would help me unwind. I need to get back into my routine, and I’d like to avoid any flesh-eating varmints. I also need a grocery store. Is there one close by?”
“You should be relatively safe running along Egret Lane. As for grocery stores, Smith’s is about half a mile down Pine Hall Road, but the selections are limited, mostly emergency stuff. You’ll find two or three smaller places in Stokesdale with the basics. If you’re looking for anything healthy, you’ll have to go to Food Lion in Walnut Cove, and even that’s suspect.”
“Wow, I’m really not in Kansas anymore, am I? But that’s good. I love it out here. Thanks again for renting to me. See you later.”
She watched Leigh’s retreating ass, cupped by jogging tights, with too much interest: the slight bounce of flesh, the self-assured swing of arms and planting of feet. She’d tried to capture that curve and confidence of the human body in her art but usually fell short. Leigh would pose a greater challenge. She was fluid and graceful, tall and lean, secure, open and engaging. Leigh was everything she wasn’t.
As Leigh trotted off up the incline, an official-looking vehicle pulled into the driveway. The driver stopped at the side of the narrow path and allowed Leigh to pass. Not this again. As she started toward the house, Detective Shaver waved her down.
“Ma’am, please. If I could just have a minute?”
“I heard you last time and the answer is still no. Why are you back?”
“Because I’m a persistent, bordering-on-annoying cop who hates to disappoint a victim’s family or my supervisor.”
She sensed Shaver’s priority was more about the victims than his supervisor, and in some small way that pleased her. A lot of cops she’d worked with were more interested in the exciting aspects of the job and career advancement. As she searched Nathan Shaver’s eyes for any indication of deceit, her resolve slipped a little. “Do you expect to wear me down by just showing up every day, or do you have a more detailed plan?”
“Honestly, I’d camp out on your doorstep if I thought it would change your mind.” Shaver scuffed the toe of his polished shoe into a lump of soil she’d dug from the flowerbed. “I wanted to apologize too. I got the feeling I upset you last time, and I’m not sure how. If I did something wrong, I’m real sorry.”
This was a first, a cop apologizing for anything. Most would rather gnaw off a finger than admit they’d done anything wrong, much less make a public statement about it. “Wasn’t you, Detective.”
“Good. If you refused to help us because of something stupid I said, I’d never forgive myself. Finding a missing person and bringing a family some peace is much more important than pride or ego.”
She was starting to like the attractive, modest young man, and her empathy gene was vibrating. “Again, it wasn’t you.”
“Then would you reconsider?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Could I possibly leave a copy of the file with you? Just look at it? Please, Ms. Sheridan.”
Macy remembered the families she’d encountered in her years as a forensic artist and how her efforts had comforted and eventually brought them closure. Just because she’d gotten out of the business didn’t mean people had stopped doing horrible things to each other or that she would be insulated from them forever. “If I let you leave the file, will you go away?”
“Forever. You’ll never see me again.”
“Leave it. I don’t promise anything, but I’ll look at it—sometime. Tell your cohorts in CAP not to push me or these copies will end up in a bonfire roasting marshmallows.”
Shaver lacked the arrogance most of the Crimes Against Persons detectives wore like a badge of honor, and she liked him more for it. He handed the file to her and almost bowed as he backed away. “Thank you, really.”
“Tell Rickard if I decide to take the case, I’ll contact him.” She wanted to add “prick” to the end of the sentence. Sergeant Kevin Rickard had obviously sent
Shaver to do his dirty work. He wouldn’t have the balls to approach her after their last conversation. She’d asked for a favor and he’d refused without a real discussion. She’d quit the next day, and it had taken only six months for him to send someone knocking on her door begging for help. Now it was her turn to blow him off, but could she? Rickard wasn’t the one who would suffer if she did.
“Thanks again, ma’am.” Shaver nodded and rushed to his car as if afraid she’d change her mind if he lingered.
She held the heavy manila envelope in her hands, staring at it until her muscles ached, and then dropped it on an old stump that served as a seat. Already regretting her decision, she felt the weight of responsibility settle uncomfortably on her shoulders. She grabbed the trowel and returned to the mindless safety of the earth and new plantings.
*
Leigh almost did a one-eighty when Nathan pulled into Macy Sheridan’s driveway. She hadn’t told him yet she’d moved to Belews Lake and wanted to keep her cop status quiet for the moment. To his credit, he didn’t yell in disbelief when he saw her. He slowed, rolled down the window, and started to say something, but she shook her head and kept walking. They’d both worked undercover and understood the subtle signal for don’t acknowledge me.
She’d spent most of her run thinking about what to tell him and how she’d gotten so out of shape. The latter question was much easier. She’d ignored her own desires in order to accommodate Gayle’s every whim. Her exercise routine, friends, family, and even her work had suffered in the years she’d tried to single-handedly maintain their relationship. Today was the first step back to her life, if she lived through it. She checked her watch. Her time was way off her usual pace, she was breathing hard, and her stride was awkward, but it felt good to be running again.
When Nathan’s vehicle approached on Egret Lane, she took a deep breath and waited for him. He pulled over and motioned for her to get in. “What’s the big freaking deal, Leigh?”
“Did she take the case?”
“What?” Not the response he apparently expected, but she needed to explain in her own way. “She took the file, no guarantee she’ll help.”
“I haven’t told her I’m a cop, and you don’t want her to know right now. Trust me. She’ll think we’re trying to gang up on her. Besides, I don’t want her to hear all the bad press and dislike me before she gets to know me.”
“Plenty of time for that once she does know you.”
“Smart-ass. I need a little time and I’ll tell her.” She felt guilty about evading the truth, but Macy was as skittish as a new colt already. Leigh didn’t know the reason or why she was so protective of Macy, but she seemed vulnerable. Maybe she was just the type who needed to warm up to strangers. Leigh could be patient. “So, will you keep it quiet for the time being?”
“No problem, partner. I promised she’d never see me again if she took the file. Now get out. I’ve got work to do back in civilization.” He flashed a white toothy grin and put the car in gear. “Stop by next time you check in with the warden. Later.” He spun off, leaving a puff of dust on the shoulder and a streak of rubber on the pavement.
“Juvenile.” She mumbled under her breath as she jogged back to the cottage. When she reached the top of the driveway, she stopped. Macy was crouched over the flowerbed, her shoulders drawn forward as if trying to exclude the world. She kneaded the soil like a chef mixing ingredients for a gourmet meal. The rhythmic back and forth of her body was hypnotic, and the tension of the last few days drained out of Leigh’s shoulders as she enjoyed the sight and sound of woman and water.
“What are you staring at?” Macy’s voice shattered her reverie.
“Sorry, just admiring the scenery.”
“Are you always so…bold?”
“Some people call it honesty, and I hear it’s a fine quality. You’re the first person I’ve met who objects.”
“Maybe if it wasn’t so, I don’t know…”
Macy was obviously struggling with the innuendo, and a stab of guilt prompted another apology. “I seem to offend you a lot, when I’m trying to express my feel—”
“I’d just appreciate a wider berth, the privacy thing. Thought I made that clear.”
She was having trouble keeping up with Macy’s shifts. One minute she was spouting unsolicited information about her parents, and the next she was throwing up barriers. But an occasional spark in her dark-brown eyes hinted at an opening. “You were clear about your preference, but I’m such an extrovert I talk aloud to myself when no one’s around. It’s hard to resist the opportunity for a real conversation. I can be annoying like that. I’ll try harder.” As she started to walk away, she saw the thick envelope on the tree stump. “Homework?”
Macy looked up from her digging. “Is this you trying harder?”
“Just wondering. That looks serious.”
“You just don’t quit, do you?” In spite of her annoyed tone, Macy took a seat on the stump closer to Leigh. “I used to work with the police as a forensic artist…but I quit. They don’t want to take no for an answer. This,” she tapped the envelope with a dirty finger, “is their idea of a subtle request.”
The revelation, another divergence between words and actions, surprised Leigh. But she wasn’t complaining. Nor would she admit she knew the police were asking for Macy’s help. “So, you’re an artist? I admire anyone with creative ability.”
“I was. Not sure what I am anymore.”
“You’re whatever you want to be.”
“If only life were so simple.”
“The police must really need you. Would it do any harm to take a look? Beats boredom out here with no cell or Internet service.” She was half joking, but now her own situation seemed more dismal. “You know what they say. Never test the depth of the ocean with both feet.”
“What makes you think I’m bored? Did it ever occur to you that I actually enjoy the peace and quiet? And I’m working my way up to painting again.”
“How do you work your way up to painting?” Macy gave her a skeptical look and she hurried to explain. “I’m not being funny or dense. I just don’t understand the whole creative process.”
“I do nude sketches. The complexity of the human form is great for honing your skills.”
“Nudes?”
“Don’t look so surprised. I’m an artist, not a prude.”
“I didn’t mean that. Who poses for nude sketches? I thought that was a ploy that lecherous old men used to seduce young women. Shows how in touch I am.”
“Lots of graduate students paying off college loans are happy for the work, and it is just work.”
Leigh imagined Macy staring at a naked woman all day and re-creating her body on canvas. The idea was appealing in a way she’d never considered. “I can see how that might spark some creative juices.”
Macy’s eyebrow arched like Leigh’s first-grade teacher’s when she’d misbehaved in class. “Anyway, back to the point. I’m not bored.”
“Are you going to help the police?”
“I haven’t decided. It’s not really a simple decision, but you wouldn’t understand.”
“I’d like to.” She wasn’t sure what prompted Macy’s sudden candor and didn’t care. She just wanted it to continue until she knew everything about her.
“The work was satisfying for a while, but it slowly leeched the joy out of my life like ultraviolet light fades a painting. My art became more about resurrecting the dead and completing a horrible story and less about creating something beautiful.”
Macy wrapped her arms around herself, and tension tightened the corners of her mouth. Her palpable pain made Leigh almost sorry for prying. She understood losing something you love and the emptiness that lingered. That she and Macy shared this most human of experiences seemed fitting. “I’m sure you helped a lot of families.”
“But eventually the cost became too great.” Her eyes closed, and when she opened them again, the moment had passed. “I’m sorry. That was inappr
opriate.” She left her gardening tools on the ground, picked up the file, and started toward the cottage.
Macy’s openness fascinated Leigh, and she wanted to prolong the connection. “I was wondering…would you maybe consider having dinner with me…tonight? I don’t know anyone out here, and I’m not much of a cook. A good meal would be nice…to share with someone. With you.” She was rambling, but her feelings were all over the place.
Macy didn’t even look back. “No, thank you.”
“Maybe another time?” When Macy didn’t answer, she tried another tack. “Do you have anything I can do? To keep busy, maybe help out?”
“No.” She wasn’t sure which question Macy was answering.
“What about that woodpile out back? Could I split some logs if I get bored?”
“If you’re that desperate,” Macy said as she closed the cottage door.
Macy’s abrupt departure reminded her of her mother’s segregation behind bedroom doors. The situations were very different but the message was the same. She’d enjoyed the few moments of intimacy with Macy. Knowing another person’s secrets and guarding their trust was one of the most precious gifts of a relationship, and she’d missed that with Gayle. But in her desire to get to know Macy, she’d overstepped and fittingly been rebuffed.
Was it the memory of past rejections that stung so much, residual pain from losing Gayle, or the fact that Macy had said no without giving her dinner offer serious consideration? Either way, she got the point loud and clear—Macy Sheridan was not interested.
*
Macy closed the door between her and Leigh, leaned against it, and shook her head. What the hell had come over her? Some very personal thoughts had oozed out of her like liquid mercury seeking a level plane. She didn’t know Leigh Monroe or if she could be trusted, but she’d spilled her guts like they were best friends.
