by P. G. Forte
“Marsha, you want to let me in on the joke?” Lucy asked, sounding faintly annoyed. “If there’s anything funny about this, I could sure use the laugh.”
“What’s that?” Everyone was always saying she couldn’t keep secrets, just because she tended to speak whatever was on her mind, but they were wrong. “Oh. No. No joke. I was just thinking of something, that’s all. Listen, what’s the deal with tomorrow, anyway? It’s Coastal Cleanup Day, remember? I thought you were going to give us a hand with that?”
“Oh, hell. That is tomorrow, isn’t it?” Lucy shook her head. “And I suppose your sister is the Oberon Site Captain again? Look, I know Siobhan’s gonna be pissed with me, but I just have too much to do this year. But... hey, Scout will be there. She and Nick are supposed to be taking Kate. And I’m letting Mandy go with them as well. Maybe you can put them all to work.”
Lucy toyed with her coffee for a few minutes, frowning slightly. “Is it just me, Marsha,” she asked at last. “Or does Scout seem a little nervous lately?”
“What’s the matter, Luce?” Marsha smiled at her. “Afraid she might talk Nick into eloping after all – rather than having to face down your entire family? Afraid all your good work will go to waste?”
“No, that’s not it. It’s just this feeling I get from her at times. Almost as if… she couldn’t be having second thoughts about getting married, could she?”
Marsha laughed. “Oh, yeah, that’s just what it sounded like, all right. She doesn’t want to put off the wedding any longer than necessary because she’s planning to skip the whole show. Sounds more like wishful thinking on your part, Lucy.”
“Hey, that’s not fair!” Lucy snapped. “You know I’ve been doing everything I can to support them.”
“I know,” Marsha soothed playfully. “You’ve been wonderful.”
“Well, I have,” Lucy insisted sullenly. “And being stuck in the middle like this – I tell you, it hasn’t been easy. I said months ago that there’d be hell to pay if those two got back together. But does anyone ever listen to me?”
“Not when we can avoid it,” Marsha couldn’t help teasing. “So what are you saying now… hell arrives tomorrow?”
“Damn straight.” Lucy crunched moodily on an orange-hazelnut biscotti. “And I’m stuck playing host.”
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* * * *
Chapter Two
* * * *
Scout was alone in the cemetery. Alone with the stones and the statues… and her thoughts. She had come here to check on two memorial stones she’d ordered months earlier which had recently been set in place. One at her stepmother and stepsister’s gravesite, and the one on Glenn’s.
No one knew about the second one. The impulse that led her to see that the man who had killed her stepsister – and who tried to kill her as well – was given a decent burial was not something she completely comprehended. She certainly didn’t want to explain it to anyone else.
Especially not Nick. He’d already suffered enough because of Glenn.
She supposed she’d been motivated in large part because, no matter what anyone else believed, or tried to tell her, she knew she was responsible for Glenn’s death. But what really bothered her – what she hated to admit, even to herself – was the idea that she might also have been influenced by the bizarre cosmic link she’d established with him shortly before he’d pulled the trigger.
There were times when Scout thought she still felt traces of that bond. Times when she worried that maybe she always would.
Wherever Lisa is, I hope she’s enjoying the joke. Making Scout and Glenn suffer for betraying her had pretty much been her stepsister’s dying wish, after all. Scout was certain Lisa would have gotten an enormous kick out of knowing that even now, years after her death, her little sister was still trying to make amends for the mess she’d caused back when they were all teenagers.
There’s been so much death, Scout thought sadly as she made her way up the gentle slope of the hill toward her car. The damp air carried the fragrance of cedar from the trees that marked the boundaries of the graveyard as well as the scent of roses and carnations from the funeral arrangements. So much sorrow, so many funerals. She carefully picked her way through the granite and marble markers and across the violet studded grass. So much death.
She couldn’t shake the feeling of culpability that haunted her. It had been her return to Oberon that had precipitated so much of the violence.
No matter how happy she was to be back here, there was no denying that at least three people would still be alive if she had just stayed away. Including Marsha’s friend, Celeste.
It was ironic that at Celeste’s funeral, she had been the one to comfort Marsha, who had tortured herself because her psychic abilities had failed to alert her to the danger Celeste had been in. The fact that Celeste herself hadn’t blamed Marsha, and had, in fact, left her pretty much everything she owned – including her cabin, and the interest she’d held in Marsha’s business – hadn’t exactly eased her friend’s grief.
In a gesture that had both honored and dismayed her, Marsha had given Scout not only Celeste’s tarot cards, but her share in The Crone’s Nest as well. It was a wedding present, Marsha had said several weeks before she and Nick had even announced their plans. Scout felt a nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach. Sometimes Marsha’s precognitive abilities were a little hard to deal with. Good thing they only seemed to kick in every once in a while.
Scout still wasn’t sure what she would do with the cards. But she figured they were the kind of thing that would come in handy, now that she was back in Oberon to stay. A tiny spurt of joy lanced through her; she couldn’t help but smile. It had taken her such a long time to get here, but it looked like she’d finally come home.
Home. The word had never sounded so good.
Scout was still several yards from her car when she saw Nick. He had pulled his own car up behind hers and was leaning against the side of it. Arms crossed, he watched as she approached. His face was unreadable, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses, even despite the day’s dreariness. He looked every inch the cop that he was.
Even without the uniform, Scout thought, you’d never mistake him for anything else. She stopped a few feet away, conscious of the small tremor that always seemed to run through her whenever she looked at him.
“Hi,” she breathed, a little uncertainly, wondering how she could explain her presence here without causing him more pain than she already had.
“I figured I’d find you here,” Nick said. She was relieved to hear only quiet satisfaction in his voice as he moved toward her through the mist.
“I was just... uh... you did?” She looked at him questioningly. “How?”
His arms slid around her possessively. A mocking smile curved his lips. “You’re forgetting something, aren’t you? You’re back on my turf now. You don’t really think I’m gonna let you get away from me again?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Scout smiled back, motioning at the trees that all but surrounded them. “There’s all this wilderness, after all. And I do seem to remember you telling me once, a long time ago, how you cops were always losing people out here in the woods.”
Nick ran his fingers through her hair for a few moments without answering. Should he tell her, he wondered? In these past few weeks, as he’d felt the bond between them strengthen and solidify, it was as if some long dormant sense had come awake. He was aware of her now in ways he couldn’t even begin to understand, much less explain. He sensed that, from now on, he would always know exactly where she was, exactly how to find her.
“Well, hon,” he said at last. “I gotta say, I don’t think too much of your chances. But if you really want to play cops and robbers, we could always—”
“Uh-uh,” she answered. She removed his glasses and looked deep into his eyes. “I’d much rather play house.”
“Yeah? With me, I hope?” Nick pulled her in closer for a long, deep kiss.
“Oh
, definitely with you,” she answered a little breathlessly when he finally let her go.
“Well, okay then. But only if I get to cook.”
“Deal.” Scout laughed, but after a moment he watched her face turn anxious again. “Nick, I’m getting a little worried about tomorrow.”
He frowned. “Why, what’s happening tomorrow?”
Scout gazed at him in exasperation. “Your mother’s coming? And Lucy’s parents – don’t tell me you forgot?”
“Oh, that.” Nick shrugged impatiently. “That’s nothing for you to worry about. Anyway, you shouldn’t be worrying yourself about anything right now.”
Her fingers plucked at the sleeves of his shirt. “Lucy says they’re still not happy with the whole idea of us getting married.”
“Lucy talks too much. Forget about them. They don’t have a problem with you, hon. Their problem’s with me. Always has been. They just can’t get used to the idea that this isn’t another fuck-up on my part.” He took her hand and started back toward the cars. “I can handle my family, Scout. I promise. You just let me deal with them, okay?”
He held her door open for her and she slid into the seat. She looked up at him pleadingly. “I don’t know, Nick. I’ve been so happy about everything. But all the same... I wonder if we haven’t screwed up again, doing things the way we did. You know?”
“Relax,” he ordered as he leaned into the car and kissed her softly. “Everything is perfect. Stop worrying, okay?” He straightened and looked down at her for a moment, his hand resting on the open door. “Listen, I’m going to stop by Lauren’s now and pick up Kate. Drive carefully. I’ll see you at home in a little while.”
She’s just getting nervous he told himself a few moments later as he watched Scout’s car pull away from the curb. That’s all it is. And nerves were something he could understand. With the wedding only two weeks away, he was getting a little nervous himself. He’d waited so long for this, he was almost afraid to believe it was finally going to happen.
But why in the hell was she worried about his family? Didn’t she realize that it didn’t matter what they thought about his getting married again? Nothing mattered to him except being with her. His family might not like it, but he was pretty sure they knew him well enough that they wouldn’t try to interfere.
He wouldn’t let anyone stop him from marrying her. Not anyone. Not anymore. And if anyone was stupid enough to try, he figured they deserved whatever happened to them.
* * *
Marsha was still struggling with the uncomfortable sense of having gotten hopelessly out of touch, or out of sync, with something important – like maybe her entire life – when she arrived home that evening. She found herself reaching out and touching the things around her, almost as if to reassure herself that they actually existed.
This did not go over well with her sons.
“Cut it out, Ma!” Jesse grumbled when she patted his head in passing. He and his brother were slouched at the table in the dining room working on their homework. The twins were looking less identical than usual these days. Within a week of starting middle school, Frank had gotten his ear pierced and Jesse had decided to buzz-cut his hair.
Jesse’s hair certainly felt real enough, Marsha thought. Although it was nothing like the shiny spun-gold threads she remembered from his babyhood. She patted it again, oblivious to his complaint, just to feel again the discrepancy between how it felt now and how she remembered it feeling. It was spiky, not soft; coarse, not fine. It was teenage hair. Fiercely independent, but still requiring a great deal of attention – if the time he spent every morning in front of the mirror was any indication.
Chuckling a little at the thought of having found the perfect metaphor for adolescence in her son’s hair, Marsha wandered into the kitchen. Her amusement evaporated when she saw the carefully taped cardboard that replaced the missing pane of glass in the back door.
She stormed back into the dining room. “Guys! The window? What the heck went on here today?”
Two identical pairs of blue eyes gazed up at her reproachfully. “We covered it, didn’t we?” Frank answered mildly. “So, what’s the prob?”
“And we cleaned up all the broken glass,” Jesse pointed out virtuously. “Before you even asked us to. Think about it, Mom, it’s more practical like this.
“But how did the glass get broken in the first place?” Marsha asked, refusing to get sidetracked by the logic of their arguments.
Frank shrugged and went back to his work. “S’no big deal. We just forgot our key again.”
“Yeah, and all the windows were locked.” Jesse looked at her accusingly. “Even the one in our bedroom. Why’d you go and do that for, anyway?”
Marsha seethed. “Damn it, boys. That’s the third time this month you’ve left your key. And the month’s only half over! What is going on with you guys, anyway? You never used to be this forgetful.”
“Oh, sure we were. It’s just that Jasmine was usually around to let us in,” Jesse explained, smiling sweetly.
“You know, Mom,” Frank looked from his work again and fixed her with a look too eerily like his dad’s for Marsha’s comfort. “Most people don’t even bother locking their doors. So, you know, they never have these problems.”
“No, they just have problems with being burglarized. Or… or murdered in their beds, or something! And most people do, too, lock their doors,” she snapped at him. “Even here in Oberon. And definitely anywhere else in the state.”
Most people, she added silently, don’t have to worry about people like your father wandering in and snooping around like he still owned half the place.
At the thought of Alex, an uncomfortable – but entirely too familiar – sensation snaked through her. Her ex-husband was supposed to be coming by any minute now to pick the boys up for the weekend, but... oh no. Not again? Suddenly suspicious, Marsha looked at her sons.
“Your father hasn’t called, by any chance, has he? He is still picking you up tonight. Right?”
Two sets of identical jaws clenched, and a mutinous glance flashed between the brothers. “Well, actually…” Frank began.
“Now that you mention it,” Jesse added, “we did sorta speak to him.”
Frank finished with another shrug. “We were gonna tell you.”
“What’d he say this time?” Marsha closed her eyes wearily and waited.
“He can’t come for us until tomorrow morning,” Jesse answered after a brief pause. “He, uh, he has to take Sherry somewhere.”
“A doctor’s appointment,” Frank muttered.
“A doctor’s appointment is gonna take him all night?” Marsha winced when she heard the venom in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. The mere thought of her ex-husband’s perennially helpless child-bride set her teeth on edge. He broke up their family and put them all through hell, for that?
“Well, and also dinner,” Jesse answered helpfully. “They were going out to dinner, too. You know, afterwards.”
“And shopping,” Frank put in. “Don’t forget that. They have to shop.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Jesse rolled his eyes. “Shopping.”
Neither boy was looking at her, Marsha realized with a guilty, sinking sensation. She hated putting them in the middle of these little skirmishes, but sometimes – like right now – she just couldn’t tell if they wanted her to ask the obvious question, or not.
“Lots of shopping,” Jesse prompted.
“So, uh, what are they shopping for that’s so important?” Marsha asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.
Frank and Jesse exchanged a long, wordless look.
“Baby stuff,” Frank finally mumbled into his textbook.
“Yeah,” Jesse added, helpfully. “You know... stuff like... what you might need if you... were maybe gonna have a baby?”
“Oh.” Marsha was momentarily nonplused. “They’re having a baby?”
Frank smirked, “Yeah, well, we were kinda hoping they’d just decide t
o get us a dog instead, but—”
“Are we eating soon?” Jesse interrupted. “I’m starved.”
“Oh, right.” Marsha looked over her sons carefully. There was nothing in either of their auras to suggest that they were any more upset than they appeared to be. On the whole, they seemed to be okay with the news. Too bad she couldn’t say the same for herself.
Rapidly, Marsha rethought her plans for the evening. Dinner had just been bumped to the top of her priority list. Too bad she didn’t have a clue what to give them now. She sighed and gave in to the inevitable. “Okay, listen, I have a meeting tonight at the marina. Why don’t I just order a pizza or something before I go?”
“Cool. But... can we get two?” Jesse asked. “That way we can get pepperoni on ours, and you can still have pineapple, or pesto, or one of those veggie things you like on the other.”
“We don’t need two,” Marsha said, as she went to get her wallet from her bag. “I’ll eat something later. Just get one with whatever you guys want on it.”
“Cool,” Jesse repeated.
“You’re the best, Mom.” Frank murmured approvingly.
“Yeah,” Marsha muttered as she picked up the phone. “The best. That’s me, all right.”
* * *
When Dan Cavanaugh walked through the kitchen door, his wife was just hanging up the phone. She absentmindedly transferred her glare to him, and after one look at Lucy’s face, Dan felt his good mood begin to dissolve.
“Hey, whatever it is, I didn’t do it. I swear,” he teased, coming toward her with his hands spread wide in a gesture of innocent defenselessness.
“No,” Lucy agreed, as she came into his arms and laid her head against his chest. “You didn’t. That would be my idiot brother, Joey.”
“Oh, yeah? What’d he do?” Dan asked reflexively, an instant before he realized that, whatever it was, he really didn’t want to hear about it just now. When she lifted her head to answer him, he gave her no chance, bending his face to hers and sealing her mouth with a long, long kiss. He tightened his hand on the back of her head when he felt her begin to pull away, slid his other hand down to her hip, and held her even more closely against him.
