by P. G. Forte
She blushed and reached out wordlessly for him. He took her in his arms, and held her close. His hands stroked her hair, her back then slowly he eased himself away from her. “I have to go.”
“But you’ll come back, right?” she asked. “Later?”
He smiled. “Count on it. But what about you? You’re not going to disappear while I’m gone, are you? Promise? I’m not going to come back and find you missing again? I won’t have to spend years and years waiting for you to turn up again, wondering where you are?”
She shook her head, her lip trembling, tears starting in her eyes.
“All right then.” He kissed her lightly on the top of her head, then got up quickly and walked across the room. In the doorway, he stopped to look back.
God, he hated leaving her like this. She looked so lonely, so forlorn, and so damn lovely. Perhaps he could stay just a little while longer. But Jesus, who was he kidding? If he didn’t go now, he wouldn’t leave for... oh, hours at least. He could spend hours just looking at her, and looking was the least of what he wanted to do. Still, he hesitated.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked her gently, almost hoping she’d say no, and give him a reason to stay. But she nodded, only a little uncertain.
“I love you, you know.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew it. And with a shock he realized that it was true. It had always been true.
She stared at him, a tiny smile just barely warming away the sadness in her eyes.
He waited a moment longer, hopeful, but she didn’t say anything. “Okay, well. I guess I’ll see you later, then,” he said and left her, without looking back.
I love you, too, Nick thought bleakly as he started up the car. Why couldn’t she have said it? Even if it wasn’t true. It wasn’t as if she’d never lied to him before. It had been on the tip of his tongue to ask her, but somehow he couldn’t do it.
You couldn’t ask a woman who’d made love to you all night with so much warmth and passion – and then begged you not to leave her – if she loved you. But did that mean you could take it for granted? He sighed and pulled the car away from the curb. He’d probably never understand that woman. And it was probably time he was used to it.
Scout sat in the empty room, hugging the pillow to her chest, listening to Nick’s footsteps descending the stairs and then crossing the hallway. She heard the sound of the front door closing. Then the car door. Heard the car start up, slowly pull away, and slowly, slowly disappear down the block. His words still rang in her unbelieving ears.
He loved her. He loved her? She didn’t even know who she was anymore – how could he? But oh, how she wanted to believe him. And oh, how she had wanted to tell him that she loved him, too. That she always had. But how fair would that have been, just now, with everything in such a mess?
Well. She just wouldn’t think about it, that’s all. She wasn’t sure she could think about anything right now, anyway. Not the way her head was already spinning with all the conflicting thoughts and emotions that swirled around within her. It was going to take some getting used to – having all these strange, yet achingly familiar feelings back.
Not that she wanted to go back to feeling dead inside, of course. But a little bit of balance would have been nice.
Everything looked and felt and sounded so much fresher and sharper. So much more painful and more fragile, too. Like a soap bubble that would burst if you breathed too hard upon it. A tide of happiness was rising within her like a flood of warm water, carrying the promise of stability.
But it’s not deep enough, yet. She needed time to heal, to get her strength back. And she couldn’t do that here. She couldn’t stay in this empty house, where she suddenly felt as if the walls were closing in around her. But where else could she go?
The phone rang, causing fear to whipsaw through her. Don’t be bad news, she prayed as she reached to pick it up. I can’t take bad news right now.
“Hi, Scout.” Marsha’s cheerful voice rang in her ear. “I think I might have some news about your dog. Can you come down to the shop today?”
“Yes,” she answered hesitantly, and then, more warmly. I can do that, yes. “Good idea. I’ve gotta get out of here anyway. I think I’ll end up going crazy if I stay here too much longer.”
Marsha chuckled. “Come on down, then, ‘cause we don’t want that. Why don’t you come now? We’ll have breakfast.”
Scout tried not to think too much as she hurried to get ready. Enjoy the present, Nick had told her. That was good advice. Fear gnawed around the edges of both the future and the past. But the present! Oh, the present was a bright shiny bubble!
She would go see Marsha. And she wouldn’t think at all about tomorrow, or tonight, or about anything that could make the bubble break. She wouldn’t think at all, if she could help it. Not until she could be sure that thinking wouldn’t make her go insane. She’d hold her breath and pray. And maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.
Back to Top
* * * *
Chapter Twenty Five
* * * *
Marsha looked up from the counter as Scout walked through the door. “Oh, hey, Scout. You made it. Good. You want some coffee? Or...” her voice died as she took another, closer look at her friend. Well, holy shit, what’s up with this now? She scanned Scout’s aura a little while longer. “You know what,” she said slowly. “I’ve got this great tea I’d like you to try. Okay? We don’t have to read the leaves or anything if—”
“Actually, what the heck, right?” Scout smiled faintly; a cautious, hesitant smile. “Read my tea leaves if you want to. I don’t mind. At least – there is one condition, though.”
“Yeah?” Marsha could barely suppress the giggle that rose in her throat. “And what would that be?”
“If you see anything bad, lie to me, okay? I just don’t want to know right now.”
“Okay, you got it. No bad news. Now, why don’t you go grab us a table. I’ll bring some things out.”
Scout wandered out on to the terrace. The sunlight felt good. No, she felt good. No. She felt great. And the sunlight felt wonderful. And the jewel-colored hummingbirds flitting and darting around the honeysuckle and the hibiscus were gorgeous. Breathtaking. The morning was bright and full of promise and maybe, maybe, maybe, if she could only hold it together a little while longer... .
Marsha bustled out a few minutes later with a tray. She set cups and plates and a steaming pot down on the table. “Okay. I think you’re going to like this. It’s very special. It’s made with rose leaves and a couple of other things. But it’s still gotta steep for a few minutes yet.”
“Thanks, Marsha.” Scout took a deep breath. “It smells wonderful, very... flowery... I guess.”
Marsha sat down and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Okay, so tell me. What is up with you today? Something’s different. You look... .oh, jeez, how should I put this? Well rested? Like maybe you’ve just gotten a really, really good night’s sleep. Although, I’m thinking, would you really have slept that well alone?”
Laughter erupted from Scout’s throat.
“Hey. What’s going on?” Lucy pulled up a chair and sat down.
Marsha saw Scout jump at the sound of her voice, a flush spreading up her cheeks.
Lucy appeared not to notice Scout’s reaction. She lifted the cover of the teapot and examined the contents. “Rose leaves?” Her eyebrows rose in surprise. She turned to Marsha, eyes flashing.
Marsha doubted that Scout even saw the look that passed between them, or the subtle, warning shake of her head that shut Lucy up. “Let me find out what’s keeping the rest of our stuff,” she said, rising quickly. “Lucy, give me a hand for a minute, will you? Inside? Scout, don’t move. We’ll be right back.”
“Rose leaf tea?” Lucy whispered again, as soon as they were out of earshot. “What the hell are you up to now?”
“Lucy.” Marsha clutched at her arm, and whispered urgently. “Did you take a good look at her? I don’t know what’s going on Bu
t it’s gotta be your cousin, don’t you think? Could they really have gotten together that fast? Like, yesterday maybe?”
“Oh, my God.” Lucy stared at her horrified. “You’ve gotta be shitting me?”
“Well, look at her. Something’s happened. And I know you saw the way they were acting Wednesday afternoon. But no, what am I thinking? It’s gotta be something more than that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think someone had done a soul retrieval. Or something fairly major.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.” Lucy snorted. “A soul retrieval, she says. And who do we know who could have done something like that, Marsha? I’m sure it wasn’t Nick.”
“Well, it wasn’t me, either. All I know is, all week long she’s had this weird, defensive thing going. I’ve tried everything I could think of, and nothing even made a dent in it. But now? The minute she walked in this morning, I could tell it was weakening. Weakening? Shit, what am I saying? More like it’s melting.
“I can’t wait ‘til Celeste gets a load of this.” She chuckled at the thought. “Approaching death, my ass. Besides, I think she’s happy. Really happy. So, don’t you dare go spoiling things for her.”
Lucy threw her hands up. “Oh, God forbid. Sure, Marsha. Whatever! As long as Scout’s happy. Jeez, that’s all that matters, right?”
“Would you listen to me?” Marsha insisted. “She’s actually agreed to let me read her tea leaves.”
“I don’t believe this,” Lucy muttered resignedly. She shook her head. “Is that what this is all about? You don’t know, Marsha. You have no idea what it was like last time. After she left. And now... ah, hell, I don’t know why I even bother. Maybe they deserve each other.”
“Good. That’s better. I think they probably do.” Marsha craned her neck for another look out at the terrace. “Damn. I just wish you could see her aura, ‘cause I am telling you, I have never seen anything like this. I can’t wait to see those tea leaves. Listen, you go back out there and keep her company while I get us some food, okay? I’m not sure we should leave her alone for very long. I mean, if I’d known about this, I wouldn’t have let her walk all the way over here by herself. But I guess there’s no harm done. Oh, I know. Why don’t you tell her about the dog. That should be okay.”
“Auras, huh? Yeah, too bad you can’t show her aura to my Aunt Lillian. ‘Cause mark my words, if you’re right about this, there’s gonna be hell to pay. Fuck. I can’t believe this is happening. Thank God it’s Friday, that’s all I can say. ‘Cause this would be way too depressing to deal with any other day.”
* * *
“So, Scout,” Lucy said as she sat back down at the table, “Did Marsha tell you about the woman who thinks she’s found your dog?”
Scout looked at her blankly for a moment, then smiled, a tentative, wavering smile. “I’m sorry, what? Oh, the dog. No, she started to—” She broke off and looked around vaguely. “I’m sorry. I’m not thinking too clearly just now. How are you today, Lucy?”
Lucy was startled by the unexpected change in subject. “Uh, fine. Thanks. How ‘bout you?”
“Good, I think. In fact... yeah, I’m really good, thanks. Aren’t those nasturtiums incredible? The colors... they’re so... vibrant.”
Vibrant, huh? Lucy felt herself frowning. “Uh, yeah. Oookay. So. Let me tell you about the dog, all right? You see, this woman was in yesterday afternoon, looking for some homeopathic teething pills for her baby, not that it matters, actually, why she was here. And I was here because – oh, never mind, that doesn’t really matter either.”
A baby, Scout thought, suddenly. I’d like to have a baby. Maybe I will. Maybe last night – A warm rush of memory shot through her and she shivered with pleasure. What would I call a baby conceived after last night? Cold Pizza? Second Chance? The Undead?
Color flooded Scout’s cheeks as she was overcome with a sudden fit of coughing. “I’m sorry,” she gasped at last with a suspicious gurgle in her voice. “Go on. You were saying?” But Lucy just stared at her, bemused. Rose leaves? Marsha was way off base with that. The last thing this woman needed was anything that might promote or, God forbid, strengthen what all the classic Herbals euphemistically called romantic feelings. Or any feelings, for that matter. Hell, she was about ready for a straitjacket as it was. What on earth had happened to her yesterday? Forget checking the damn tea leaves. She’d better go check out what her cousin was looking like this morning.
Because she was getting a really bad feeling about this.
“Lucy? The dog?”
The dog. Right. “Well. Marsha put up a notice, like she said she’d do, and you know, we had one made up about Robyn, too, of course. Not that anyone – never mind. Anyway. So this woman came in—”
“The woman with the baby,” Scout said helpfully.
“Uh-huh. She saw the poster and said her husband had found a dog, which he’d taken to their vet, and she thought, from the description, you know, that it might be your dog. Who, by the way, really needs a name, if you get her back. ‘Cause that’s the first thing everyone asks.”
Names? Scout’s mind drifted off track again. She really would have to think about names, wouldn’t she? Names were so important. Nick had always called her Jen. Would he ever call her that again? Did she even want him to?
“I love you.” he had told her. But who was he thinking of when he said that? Just who was she, anyway?
“Uh, Scout? Can you even hear me?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, you were talking about names. What do your children think of their names, by the way? Do they like them?”
“I don’t know, Scout. But we weren’t really discussing names as such. I was trying to tell you about your dog. I think she might be at this vet’s office. Are you with me so far?”
“A vet? Omigod. Lucy! We never even thought of that! We checked all the shelters yesterday, but she wasn’t at any of them. And I was feeling so depressed.”
“Yeah, sure.” Lucy eyed her skeptically. “Depressed. Right, I can see that.” She signaled to a passing waitress. “Tina, please could you get me a double… no make that a triple espresso, hon? Pronto?” Then she turned back to Scout. “That’s funny, because you sure don’t look like you’re depressed right now.”
She wasn’t too surprised when Scout dissolved into laughter, but she sure did have to wonder, with a sinking sense of inevitability, whether “we” didn’t mean just exactly what she was afraid it meant.
Marsha returned carrying a tray piled high with plates. “Sorry this took so long. We’re a little shorthanded.” She balanced the tray on the edge of the small table and began to unload plates of scones and muffins, bowls of granola and fresh fruit, and dishes of preserves, honey, butter and Devonshire cream.
“I don’t know where Celeste is; she hasn’t shown up yet this morning. Scout, that tea should be just about ready now. Why don’t you pour yourself a cup? And you really should eat a good breakfast. I think you need a little bit of grounding this morning.”
“Marsha, I’m totally with you on the grounding thing, but what I don’t think she needs is this tea,” Lucy insisted. “Maybe you got some chamomile or lemon verbena or valerian maybe, or I don’t know... something a little more... soothing?” Like triple strength kava-kava. Or knock out drops, perhaps?
“This is soothing,” Marsha said, lips curving in a mischievous grin. “Sort of. I added some lavender to it.”
“Oh, Christ,” Lucy groaned.
Marsha made a face. “And also jasmine and cloves and cinnamon. And just the tiniest bit of clary sage. So there.”
Lucy rolled her eyes as Marsha ticked off the list of aphrodisiacs. Oh, good thinking. Sure, why the hell not? “That’s it? What happened? You run out of yohimbe and mandrake root?”
“Oh, be quiet,” Marsha scolded her. “And besides, I think Scout looks very soothed already.” She chuckled wickedly. “I should only be so lucky. Go on, Scout, try it. It’s very good.”
Scout took a sip and closed her eyes in ecstasy. “M
mm. Oh, you’re right. It’s wonderful. Delicious.”
“Where the hell is my coffee?” Lucy muttered, rolling her eyes again. “So, what’s this about Celeste, anyway? Did you call her?”
“Of course. But there was no answer. I figure after we check about the dog, I’ll drive out to the cabin. Maybe she’s sick or something. I’ve been getting the strangest feelings all night.” She turned her bright eyes back on Scout who was staring off into space again, and smiled gleefully. “C’mon, Scout. Drink up. This ought to be good.”
* * *
Nick poured himself another cup of coffee, looked at the telephone on his desk and told himself for maybe the two thousandth time that he was not going to call her again. Just because he longed to hear her voice didn’t mean she would pick up the phone this time either.
He’d already called too many times. Either she’d already gone out, or she just didn’t want to talk to him. Which he refused to believe could possibly be the case, but he couldn’t help worrying about, anyway.
After all the years of waiting for her, it was hard to believe his luck had finally changed.
It was probably just as well that she wasn’t picking up the phone. He still wasn’t ready to share the news he’d gotten when he’d called in this morning. News that a body had been found, washed up on a beach several miles up the coast. A body that may or may not turn out to be that of her missing roommate.
He didn’t want to tell her anything about that until he knew for sure, and if he talked to her before then, he might end up saying more than he planned.
There were so many things they needed to talk about. Things that had to be worked out between them; questions he still desperately needed to learn the answers to.
He would see her tonight, and surely that would be soon enough for them to talk. And the sooner he got his mind back on his work, the sooner he could get out of here.
Not that he was going to do anything like a decent amount of work today, of course. He really couldn’t expect to. After all, he’d been through this before, hadn’t he?
