by P. G. Forte
Scout grimaced. Oh, goody. The past. Her favorite subject. “There’s really not all that much to tell. After Caroline kicked me out, I went to live with my grandfather in Florida. I stayed there ‘til I finished high school. By then he had died, so... I moved around a lot. I lived in New York for a while. Bummed around Europe for several years. I was living in LA when I got word about Caroline. And now I’m here. End of story.”
“Now you’re here?” Lucy repeated. “You don’t mean you’re staying?”
Scout stuck out her chin. “Any reason I shouldn’t?”
“No. Are you kidding? That’d be great,” Marsha interrupted quickly. “It’d give us all a chance to get to know each other again.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Scout said, feeling suddenly very weary.
“Yeah, me neither.” Lucy muttered.
Celeste laughed. “Well, Marsha, I can see what you mean. They do seem to have a lot in common, don’t they?”
“They always did.” Marsha sighed and sipped at her tea.
“Yeah, well, maybe it was the stuff we had in common that caused all the trouble in the first place,” Scout suggested quietly.
“Excuse me?” Lucy leaned toward Scout, her eyes glittering with anger. “As I recall, all the trouble was caused by you opening your big mouth. Right before you skipped town.”
“Oh, like skipping town was my choice?” Scout snapped back at her. “Take my word for it, Lucy, moving to Florida wasn’t exactly my idea of fun.”
Lucy’s voice was ominously soft. “Right. While we, on the other hand, were having a big ol’ party, dealing with the mess you’d left behind. Tell me, Scout, was there a particular reason you had to rat us out like you did? Or were you just showing off in front of my cousin?”
There was a sudden chill in the atmosphere. Marsha felt as though she’d been wrapped in a cold, dank mist. She glanced at Scout. There was no noticeable change in her expression, but her eyes had turned oddly blank.
“Lucy,” Marsha said urgently. “It was a long time ago. Let it drop.”
Lucy subsided, sulking, just as Vanessa returned with her espresso.
“No, Marsha, it’s okay. Really, I don’t mind. Let her talk.” Scout’s voice sounded eerily conversational, strangely unemotional. Marsha shuddered at the icy, slick politeness of it. What was wrong with the woman, she wondered uneasily.
“That’s one of the reasons I’m here, after all,” Scout continued, “to find out what happened to Lisa. I need to know what went on after I left town.”
“What happened to Lisa?” Lucy stared at her. “You know damn well what happened. She ran away. You screwed us all up, and she left.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got that already. But if it was just me she was pissed off at, why didn’t she come back? Less than two weeks later, I was gone myself. How come no one was ever able to find her? And besides, I don’t notice you two missing.”
Marsha stared unseeing into her cup, remembering her last encounter with Lisa – the one she’d never told anyone about. “It was twenty years ago, Scout. I don’t imagine anyone will ever know what happened to her.” But was that really true? She sighed. “So, what do you plan on doing anyway?”
Scout shrugged. “Well, I don’t know, exactly. I guess I’ll try to track her down or something. I mean, I know Caroline spent a lot of time and money over the years. With minimal results, according to her lawyer. But he also told me she was in contact with someone about ten years ago who claimed to have some information on her whereabouts.”
“What? You don’t mean there’s someone out there who’s claiming to know where Lisa is now, do you?” It was the first time Marsha had heard this, and something in her voice must have sounded odd, because Scout flashed her a curious look.
“Why? You know something about it that I don’t?”
Celeste laughed suddenly. A bright, tinkling sound, like a small silver bell. It broke the tension Marsha had felt building around the table. “Well, doesn’t she usually know things before the rest of us do?” Celeste looked at Scout with amused expectancy. Scout returned her look with one of polite confusion. Celeste’s eyebrows rose as she looked to Lucy for an explanation. “She doesn’t know?”
“Scout’s been out of touch these last couple of decades,” Lucy said, fixing Scout with another steely look. “There’s a whole lot of things she doesn’t know about.”
“Excuse me, Marsha?” One of the waitresses interrupted. “We’ve got a request for a reading on table five. And everyone else is kind of backed up, so do you think—”
“I’ll go.” Celeste stood up quickly. She gave Marsha’s hand a reassuring pat. “You three go on with your reunion.”
They sat for a moment watching as Celeste crossed the terrace. Marsha felt a little of the chill in the atmosphere recede as well.
“So, just what kind of racket are you guys running here, anyway?” Scout asked after a minute. Her voice had lost a little of its odd, detached quality. She sounded angry now. Interesting.
“Oh my God.” Lucy’s laugh sounded angry as well. “You know, I’d almost forgotten how much I always hated that self-righteous attitude of yours. Jeez, Scout, how do you suppose we’ve managed all these years without you?”
Marsha left off playing with her teacup. “What is it you want to know, Scout?” she asked quickly, hoping to avoid another confrontation.
“Why don’t you tell me, Marsha? You’re the psychic, apparently. Or did you just hypnotize your friend Celeste into thinking you know everything?”
“Oh, she doesn’t know everything,” Lucy taunted. “But if you’ve still got any secrets you’re hiding, you might want to keep your distance.”
“It’s really not like that,” Marsha sighed. “I had a Near Death Experience. Not too long after you left town, actually. I was in a car accident and... I died. When I woke up, it was as if everything had changed. Things looked different, or maybe it was just the way I was looking at them. I really can’t describe it all that well. And sometimes I get these intuitive flashes. That’s all it is, really. Not a big deal.” She smiled, slyly. It wasn’t hard to know what Scout was thinking. “And yes, you’re right. It has been very good for business.”
“Lucky guess,” Scout muttered.
“Perhaps. But they don’t hurt, either. Anyway, it doesn’t happen nearly as often as I’d like it to. Trust me on that one. I mean, let’s say I meet a guy who is going to be big trouble – like my ex-husband, for example – you think I get any kind of warning to stay clear of him? Uh-uh. No such luck. As far as the rest of it goes, it’s not a racket, Scout. I provide goods and services that a lot of people want. Things that I want. I’m a Born Again Pagan these days. And I’m every bit as serious about it as any of the nuns back at Our Lady were about the catechism. You know, this weekend is the Midsummer Festival. We’ll have a booth there. Why don’t you come out and see for yourself what we’re all about?”
Scout stared at her for a moment. Confusion, compassion and a desperate need for distance warred in her eyes. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it,” she said finally. She drained the last of her latte and stood up. The dog rose stiffly to her feet as well. “Look, I gotta go. I’ll see you guys later... or sometime... I guess.”
Marsha couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, yeah, hon, count on it. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. C’mon, I’ll walk you out.”
* * *
Lucy sat at the table long after Scout left, staring into the depths of her coffee, as if she could find the answers there to the questions that filled her head. Scout-friggin-Patterson. She still couldn’t believe it.
She probed the emotions the name dredged up, as her tongue might probe an aching tooth. Bitterness, yes, of course, that went without saying. And anger. And resentment. Hate? Hmmm. Yeah. Definitely some hate, there. And more than a little bit of fear.
She wondered if Nick knew she was back yet?
Twenty years ago, when everything was
going to hell, Lucy had jumped to Scout’s defense, insisting that their friend would never intentionally betray them. And when her brother told her what Scout had done to Nick – how she’d tricked him and lied to him and used him to get back at Lucy for that hypnosis thing – she hadn’t wanted to believe that, either.
But in the end she’d been forced to admit she’d been wrong about Scout. Because if Scout had really been their friend, she would have held her tongue. No matter how they’d threatened her. And if she’d cared at all for Nick – well, she wouldn’t have been sleeping with Glenn, now would she?
Lucy sighed. It had taken Nick forever to get over her, too. How many times had he asked her, oh so casually, if she’d heard anything from her friend?
“Forget it Nick. She’s bad news. You don’t want to know.”
“Christ, Luce. I’m just asking.”
Just asking. Yeah, right. As jumpy as he was? With that look in his eyes? Ha. One word from her, and he’d have been in his car and halfway to the freeway before her mouth stopped moving. And the next thing you knew, shit, he’d turn up missing, too. Just like Lisa. And she’d be left with one more thing to feel guilty about.
Even if she had known where Scout was, she wouldn’t have told him. But she hadn’t known. No one had. No matter how many times she was asked, no matter who asked her, Caroline had refused to say anything.
And all that time, while Lucy was stuck here in Oberon, dealing with truckloads of grief and guilt and humiliation, Scout had been where? Soaking up sun in fucking Florida! Yeah, she could see how that must have been real tough, all right. Jesus.
“So, what’s the deal, Luce?” Marsha asked dropping back down into her chair. “You gonna hang out here all day or what?”
“Shit, Marsha. Why’d you have to go and invite her to the festival?”
“Who? Scout?” Marsha shrugged impatiently. “Hey, it’s open to the public, isn’t it? Anyway, why not invite her? Maybe if she sees what this is all about, she won’t be so freaked by it.”
“Oh, who cares if she’s freaked?” Lucy played with her hair distractedly. “What do you think she’s up to anyway?”
“What makes you think she’s up to anything?”
Lucy eyed her friend skeptically. “You are kidding, right? This is Scout we’re talking about. You know what she’s like. You don’t really think she’s here to find Lisa, do you? After all this time?”
Marsha sighed. “Well, if she is, I think she’ll end up disappointed.”
“Maybe.” Lucy eyed her closely. “And you’re not even a little bit worried? You aren’t afraid of the kind of mess she could cause? The kind of mess she’s always caused? What about Celeste’s reading, then? I gotta tell you, I got a bad feeling about this. If Scout’s being here means anything, it can only mean trouble.”
“Well, we’ll just have to be careful then, won’t we?” Marsha bit her lip, looking, Lucy couldn’t help thinking, a lot more nervous then she wanted to let on. “I don’t know, Luce. There’s something really odd about Scout now. I can’t put my finger on it yet. But I think if we can get her to lighten up a bit, we can maybe try some things. You know, to find out what it is? Don’t worry too much, okay? Everything’s going to work out. I think.”
Lucy shook her head. As if that wasn’t the dumbest thing she’d ever heard. The biscotti she’d eaten sat like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. “Honestly, Marsha, how can any of it work out? Whatever she’s up to, it’s bound to end badly for someone. Just like last time.”
Back to Top
* * * *
Chapter Five
* * * *
Lucy was in her kitchen fixing dinner when her husband got home from work. She had a big pot of water simmering on the stove ready for the pasta; a fresh salad chilling in the refrigerator; and two trays of clary sage focaccia baking in the oven. The pungent odors of basil and garlic filled the sunny room.
“Hey there, babe. What’s cooking?”
Just the sound of Dan’s voice as he came up behind her was enough to send involuntary shivers of pleasure coursing through her. He smelled good, Lucy thought, inhaling deeply. He smelled of earth and sun and sweat and skin. His big, warm hands molded themselves to her waist and she leaned back into his embrace.
“Mmm, pesto, huh?” His breath was a warm caress against her neck. “Bit early in the season for you to start hitting the basil this hard, isn’t it?”
“I have my reasons,” she muttered, her mood darkening as she thought about them. But then he was gently teasing one of the straps of her tank top off her shoulder, while his other hand twisted possessively in her hair. He tugged her head to the side and a pleasant thrill of anticipation drove every other thought away.
Lucy’s eyes slid shut as Dan planted a string of soft, wet kisses all along her neck, from ear to shoulder and back again.
When he’d finished, she turned to face him, slipping her arms around his waist and into the pockets of his jeans and smiling up into a pair of twinkling eyes the color of fresh denim.
Her breath caught in her throat, as it always did when he looked at her that way. “I had such a lousy day,” she pouted teasingly, brightening only after he had kissed her. One, long, luxurious kiss that suggested he’d gladly do everything possible to insure that her evening was very much better than her day had been.
“Mmm. Nice,” she purred, pulling away just enough to look up at him. “God, I missed you today. How’d everything go? Are we all set for tomorrow?”
“Yep.” Dan pulled her back against him, his hands sliding over her back, and then down to squeeze her butt. He kissed her several more times before finally letting her go.
A pleasant feeling of possession washed through Lucy. She watched as he walked across the kitchen, appreciating once again his close-cropped black hair and the comfortable solidness of his large, muscular frame.
“Yeah, we’re set, all right,” he said, chuckling quietly as he took two beers from the refrigerator. “In fact, it’s Seth’s expert opinion that Cavanaugh’s Nursery will have a ‘killer display’ this year. I gather he thinks it’s a first for us. And all due to his efforts, you understand.” He twisted the cap off one of the bottles and took a long swallow. “How he thinks we managed out there for three generations without him is a fuckin’ mystery to me, woman. And personally? I blame you. That boy has your attitude written all over him.”
Lucy laughed. “Oh, no you don’t. He’s your son, too, you know. And what do you mean, attitude? Hell, he’s fifteen years old, Dan. What were you like at that age?”
“Oh, I’m not even gonna go there,” Dan leaned his elbows on the counter and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “I’m telling you, Luce, I think when Mandy turns fifteen we should seriously consider sending her to live out of state for a while. You got any relatives on the East Coast who could take her?”
“Don’t.” Lucy shivered as goosebumps raced across her skin. Relatives on the East Coast? Just like Scout. She dragged her thoughts back to the present. “So, what about the herbs for the store? Everything go okay with that?”
“Mmph!” Dan took another drink from his beer and shook his head. “You know, Luce, sometimes the things I do for you – they should qualify me for the sainthood. I’m just thankful my father wasn’t around today to catch me with those two... young women... with their ceremonial knives and their special cloths, making sure nothing touched the ground after it had been cut. Shit, babe they’re herbs! They grew in the damn ground! What’s the deal with that? No.” He put up a hand to stop the explanations that had risen to her lips. “Don’t tell me. I really don’t care. But oh, you owe me for this one, Greco.” He smiled wickedly. “You really do.”
“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows rose in mock severity, and she knew that the sudden rush of heat flooding her senses owed nothing whatsoever to either the late afternoon sunlight pouring in through the big kitchen windows, or to the oven at her back. “Did I hear you right? I owe you?”
“Big time.” His eyes were dizzyingly blue as they raked slowly over her from top to bottom before returning to hold her gaze.
Lucy felt her heart kick. “I see. And tell me, Cavanaugh, you think you can collect on that debt, do you?”
“Oh, I know I can.” He grinned at her. “Damn, but I do love Friday nights.”
So did she. She returned his grin, and for several long moments, neither said a word, they just smiled at each other across the sun-filled kitchen. Lucy reached for the glass of Zinfandel she’d poured earlier and took a small sip as she considered which creative activities they might attempt later. She’d just made up a new batch of scented massage oils they hadn’t tried yet, including a black pepper-mint-patchouli mix she thought might have some very interesting effects.
“So,” she said at last, clearing her throat and attempting to catch her breath – an activity which was, all of a sudden, surprisingly difficult. “Dare I ask what you might have done with our son? I didn’t hear Seth come in with you.”
“Huh! Nothing, yet. He’s out on the drive shooting hoops with your cousin. Which reminds me, I better get back out there. I told Nick I’d bring him a beer.”
“Nick’s here?” Lucy felt a sudden qualm. “What’s he want?”
Dan looked at her in surprise. “Don’t you remember? He’s dropping Kate off to spend the night with Mandy.”
Relieved, Lucy turned back to her food processor. “Oh, right. Tell him to stay and have dinner.”
“Well, I’ll ask him,” Dan’s voice was suspiciously innocent. “But you know, he might have other plans.”
Lucy snorted appreciatively. They were both very well aware just how unlikely that was. Since his divorce, Nick seemed to spend more time than ever at work. Although he’d dated a few women, he’d shown no real interest in any of them. Which, given some of the women in question, was a damn good thing. As far as anyone could tell, Nick’s social life was so lacking in excitement these days, even he was bored by it.
