Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  “Yeah,” she sighed, sounding not at all certain. “I guess.”

  Dan frowned. He hated gloom. It was worse than anger. “C’mon, now. You do know that Janice and I were just kidding around, right? She gets so uptight sometimes, I can’t resist getting on her case. But she’s not nearly as tough as she likes to pretend. I think she’s a little worried about Joey, to tell you the truth. I mean, he’s been a total jerk lately, and he really isn’t like that normally, you know.”

  “Well, that’s just because of me, isn’t it?” Scout asked, and the way she tilted up her chin as she said it, reminded him a lot of Lucy. “Because I’m marrying Nick?”

  “Yeah, probably,” Dan admitted. No point in denying it, was there? “But you know how they are. Once they’ve made up their minds about something, it’s damn hard to get them to change.”

  “Lucy changed hers,” Scout said quietly, her eyes on the glass of iced tea she wasn’t really drinking.

  “Well now, she kinda did... But you know, you two were friends first, weren’t you? So, I think that really she just changed it back. Which is not exactly the same thing. But hey, don’t let it worry you. They’re really not a bad bunch of people. They have good hearts. And they’re not completely lacking in common sense. They’ll come around, once they decide that this isn’t just another screw-up on Nick’s part. Or that you’re not really gonna make him as miserable as they all think you will.”

  He shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “Only question, of course, is how long it’ll take them to notice that.”

  “Oh, God,” Scout groaned. She leaned her elbows on the island countertop and buried her face in her hands. “This is all such a mess!”

  “Hey!” he said, bracingly. “C’mon. It’s not that bad. You’re not worrying about Nick, I hope? ‘Cause trust me, he can hold his own with this crowd. There’s no chance they’re gonna get him to change his mind about you, right? So... unless, you’re the one having second thoughts?”

  “No, of course I’m not!”

  “Then where’s the problem?”

  “I don’t know.” She sighed wearily. “I just wish Nick could’ve been here today.”

  “Yeah,” Dan agreed. “Pretty bad luck having something like this murder happen that close to your wedding. It’s got to be real distracting for him. How’s it going anyway? They figure out who she was yet?”

  “I guess so. Paige somebody? I think Nick knew her.” Scout shivered just a little, but Dan hardly noticed. He felt suddenly as if a cold hand had closed around his heart. Blood began to pound in his ears and it was hard to draw breath.

  “Not... you don’t mean... Paige Delaney?” he asked, his voice as steady as he could manage to keep it.

  “Yeah.” Scout looked up at him, her face mildly curious. “You knew her, too?”

  “I... uh, yeah. That is, sure... we all do. Did.” Dan broke off suddenly, afraid of saying too much. He couldn’t think about this now. Couldn’t think about Paige, or Nick, or... Jesus Christ, he couldn’t think about any of it, really.

  Already, various memories colliding in his mind were giving birth to dreadful suspicions, and he didn’t want to think too closely about any of them, either. The distant sounds of argument filtered back into his brain, and he turned toward the porch; furious, suddenly, with the entire Greco clan.

  So stubborn and hotheaded and intractable, they all were. So dead serious about their own little emotional dramas. Each of them so bound and determined to have their own way in everything. And too blind to ever see the bigger picture. Even Lucy, at times.

  The hand that had clutched his heart squeezed tighter. Lucy. Jesus. He really didn’t want to think what this might mean for her. For them.

  There was just no way he was going to think about that any of it now. And there was no way he was going to put up with any more of this arguing either. Just whose God damn house did they think they were in now, anyway? This was supposed to be a party, damn it. And they were supposed to be a family. They could damn well start acting like one.

  And if they didn’t want to?

  “Well, I’ve had just about enough of this crap,” Dan growled suddenly. Scout was surprised to see him wheel abruptly and head outside. The screen door slammed open, and in another moment Dan’s voice could be heard rising above the cacophony. “What the hell is wrong with you people? Don’t you have anything better to do than sit around all the damn day yelling at each other like a pack of fishwives?”

  And then it was quickly drowned in a rising chorus, as the others turned on him en masse.

  “What on earth is he doing?” Janice asked in shocked tones, when she re-entered the kitchen.

  Scout had no answer for her. “I don’t know,” she admitted with a shrug. “We were talking about the murder, and the next thing I knew—” she gestured toward the porch.

  “Well.” Janice shook her head in disbelief. “He’s lost his mind. That’s the only explanation for it.” She picked up the bottle of champagne and poured what was left of it into her glass. Then she raised her glass toward Scout in a little toast. “So, Scout. Welcome to the family!” She smiled and downed the whole thing at once.

  * * *

  Marsha was just leaving the police station when Nick drove into the lot. He didn’t see her at first, and she was startled by the strained, unhappy expression on his face. He stood by the car for an instant, staring vacantly at a small flock of gulls picking at something on the tarmac. She watched as his expression hardened, and he reached slowly for something in his pocket. A moment later, moving with startling swiftness, he threw whatever he’d retrieved from his pocket straight into the flock. With a squawking outcry of alarm, the birds dispersed.

  Marsha was shocked by the look of savage satisfaction on his face as he turned and headed toward her. There was a cocky confidence to his walk that she thought seemed a little too deliberate to be real. His facade faltered for just an instant when he caught sight of her, and then his defenses slammed back into place. Damn, it looked as if the man had picked up a few things from Scout, after all. Not that any of them would ever match her for psychic defense, of course.

  “You know Nick, I think there’s probably some kind of law against molesting marine wildlife, isn’t there?”

  “Oh, like I actually give a shit,” he answered with a weary lack of rancor. “What are you doing here, Marsha?”

  “Helping out with the waivers, remember?”

  “Oh, right. How’s that going?”

  “All done. Everything’s been put in order, and if you have any questions, well, you know where to find me.”

  Nick nodded briefly, and was about to turn away when Marsha stopped him. “Listen, I just wanted to say again, how really sorry I am. About yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?”

  “Yeah, you know. For the way I blurted it out... about Paige.”

  “Oh, that.” Nick shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter.” He turned and headed toward his office.

  Maybe it didn’t, thought Marsha, but worry was just one of many things that she had never learned to turn on or off at will. She fell into step alongside him.

  “So, how’s everything going with the investigation?” she asked tentatively.

  “Terrific. I need to find someone who can unlock Paige’s computer files for me, but other than that – I don’t suppose you’d know where I can find a computer whiz, do you?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Well, keep it in mind, just in case. I guess I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah, but listen... I also wanted to say that... well, I know you were close to her. And I can imagine how difficult this must be.” She paused. Sometimes the things that people most needed to hear were the hardest things to say.

  They had reached his office by then, and he glanced back at her as he let them in. His face twisted in a surprisingly bitter smile. “Difficult?”

  “Well, isn’t it?” She was not surprised when he didn’t answe
r right away. “You were friends, after all.”

  “Friends? Yeah, right.” Nick laughed harshly. “You ever think, Marsha, that maybe we don’t really know anybody as well as we think we do?” He sank into his chair and gazed at her thoughtfully. His look held pain and a hint of challenge. And something else that she couldn’t quite identify.

  “How well did you know Paige?” he asked suddenly. “What did you think of her?”

  Marsha smiled sadly. “Well, being as I’m friends with Lucy, it wasn’t exactly easy for me to ever feel all that warm about Paige. In fact, I think you’re probably the only one who’s ever managed to be close to both of them.”

  The unidentifiable something in his look grew stronger. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. But then again, who’s to say what close really means to some people.”

  He dug around in his desk drawer until he’d unearthed a crumpled pack of Marlboros and a lighter. “So, what was it about, anyway; that thing between the two of them. Do you know?” he asked as he lit up.

  “What? Between Paige and Lucy?” Marsha shrugged, feeling momentarily distracted. She knew smoking in public buildings was prohibited across the state. Apparently, Nick wasn’t concerned with that law either. “Just one of those things, I guess. Even Lucy doesn’t know why she feels the way she does about her. We always just passed it off as some sort of past-life trauma.”

  Nick looked at her sharply. “Does she even know Paige is dead, yet?”

  “Well, she didn’t hear it from me.” Marsha smiled, ruefully. “I figured I did enough damage yesterday by telling Scout.”

  Nick smoked pensively for a few moments. “Jesus. What a fucking mess this is turning into,” he muttered at last.

  “Look, you’ll figure it out, Nick. It might take a little while, but you will get there.”

  A mocking smile appeared on his face. “Yeah? So tell me, what happens when I get there and I find I’m somewhere I really don’t want to be?”

  Marsha shivered. “Well, I guess that’s a possibility, isn’t it?” Sadness drenched her. It was more than a possibility. At the moment, it felt damn near certain. “But you’ll still go there, won’t you, Nick? Because you can say it doesn’t matter all you want to, but in the end, you’ll want the truth. Whatever it means. However unhappy it makes you.”

  “And how about how it makes other people feel?” He paused for a moment, as if deciding how much to say. “You know, when I do get all these answers you’re so sure I’m gonna find, it could be I’m not the only one who won’t like them.”

  She laughed to hide the nervousness she felt. “Hey, that sounds awfully prophetic. Don’t tell me you’re turning psychic on us now, too?”

  “Turnaround would definitely be fair play.” He was smiling, but she didn’t think he found anything particularly humorous about their conversation. “I just can’t stop thinking that there’s gonna be hell to pay, when everything comes out.”

  “Well, Nick, if it’s any comfort, that’s the very same thing Lucy said a while ago about you and Scout getting back together, and so far that seems to be working out okay.”

  She had said it lightly, but he blanched. And the look he gave her made her shiver all over again. “You think Lucy sees things more clearly than the rest of us? Like maybe she’s the real psychic, around here?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible.” Marsha shrugged. She had no idea where this was leading, but he was obviously a lot more upset today than he had been yesterday. And that was not a good sign. She hadn’t sensed anything too terrible with Scout this morning, but with the way she was shielded, she probably wouldn’t have anyway.

  “Yeah, sure. Or maybe Lucy’s blind as a fucking bat. Hell, maybe we all are.” Nick shook his head. “Could be we all see only what we want to see, and if we don’t like reality, we tell ourselves whatever lies make us feel good.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if that’s true, Nick. You’ve always struck me as being pretty perceptive. I don’t think you could really be happy living with lies for very long, no matter how much you might want to.”

  “Well, Marsha, you know what they say: there’s a first time for everything.”

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  * * * *

  Her conversation with Nick weighed heavy on Marsha’s mind as she drove out to Hidden Canyon later that afternoon. The closer she got to Celeste’s cabin the worse she felt. These trips out here always made her melancholy now. Celeste’s cabin. She really couldn’t think of it in any other way. She had only been there a handful of times in the last few months. She felt bad about that, but it was just too painful to come any more often than that. Celeste would understand how it was. At least, she hoped she would.

  The heat wave that had been predicted for days had finally materialized. Bright September sunlight poured down into the canyon, filtering through the branches of the tall trees that surrounded the cabin to gild the glade with its warm, golden glow. The grass of the lawn, and the cedar shake roof blazed with light. In between the trees to the rear of the clearing, she could see even more light reflected on the rippled surface of the creek and glancing off the white granite boulders. Dragonflies danced in the air around her, their wings iridescent flashes of brightness surrounding the brilliant reds, blues and greens of their bodies.

  Guilt stung her anew when she saw how overgrown everything had become. She really should have come out here more often. She should have sent someone out, if she couldn’t have come herself, to at least cut the grass! As it was, she’d let Celeste’s gift to her lie empty and neglected.

  Oh, God. Celeste, I am so sorry. So very sorry.

  She was so wrapped up in her mournful thoughts, she was almost on top of Sam before she noticed him. He’d been crouched on the lawn, examining something there. He got to his feet when he saw her; rising up out of the sun-gilded grass in one swift, graceful motion, his very presence an assault on all her senses.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this attracted to a man. Had she ever been? He was wearing black again, she noticed, absorbing every detail in a single, greedy glance. Black chinos, a black and silver belt, and the same silver and turquoise jewelry he’d worn yesterday. The first two buttons of his collarless shirt were open, and the sleeves were rolled up almost to his elbows. His hair was loose today, falling in smooth silver waves to lie about his shoulders. He looked more like a wizard than ever, she thought, except that his eyes had lost a little of the guarded, inscrutable look she had noticed from time to time the day before. The eagerness that glowed in them today made him even more attractive.

  “This place is incredible,” he announced without preamble. “I hadn’t even noticed the other day, but... there are flowers in the grass. Look.” He held out his hand, and she moved closer, disarmed by his enthusiasm.

  “It’s a violet,” she said after she’d examined the little yellow blossom. “Kind of unusual for this time of year, I guess. But there must be lots of them, they spread pretty aggressively. They’ll probably take over the whole lawn eventually, if I let them.”

  “And this is a bad thing?” he asked with a disbelieving smile. “I mean, why wouldn’t you want them to? They’re so pretty.” He looked around, in wonder. “What is it that smells so good?”

  “Probably the incense cedars,” she answered, returning his smile. “Those big trees there and there and over there...” She felt another pang of loss as she pointed out the trees that Celeste had always referred to as the guardians of the property.

  “What about that one?” he asked, indicating the largest tree in the glade.

  “That’s a Jeffrey Pine. We don’t really know how it got here. It normally only grows in the Sierras. Its bark smells like vanilla.”

  He looked around startled. “A vanilla scented pine tree?” he asked, bemused. “Can there really be such a thing?”

  “See for yourself,” she suggested, enjoying his reaction. He stood hesi
tant for a moment then turned and stalked quickly across the lawn. She followed more slowly, picking her way among the clover and the violets and the delicate patches of phlox, chamomile and thyme that laced the lawn. She stopped a few feet away, mesmerized by the sight of him. His face, held only inches from the trunk of the pine tree, was taut with concentration, his eyes were closed, and his hands clutched at the tree as though he would divine all its secrets in that single touch. He looked like Prospero, attempting the spell that would free Ariel.

  He stood so for a long moment, then his eyes opened and he turned his face to her. “You’re right. It does.”

  He left the tree and came to stand directly in front of her. “Do you know all these plants?” he all but demanded.

  “No, not all. But a lot of them, I do. My father was always very big on nature walks when my sisters and I were kids. He loved introducing us to new plants. And of course I was here when Celeste planted most of these, so that helped, too.” She pointed out the scarlet lobelia, the fireweed, the blue-eyed grass. “It’s really beautiful in the springtime,” she told him. “When the redbud and the bitter cherry and the ceonothus are all in bloom.”

  “Hell, it’s beautiful right now. I had no idea there could be so many things flowering in September. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you, growing up around here. I’ve never seen anything like this place.”

  His eyes refocused on her then, his face suddenly as intent as it had been a moment before with the tree, and the look he gave her caused everything inside her to go still. She held her breath and waited, as though for some sort of judgment.

  “It suits you,” he said at last. “It really does. You fit right in with the rest of it, somehow. Unexpected. Lovely. Maybe just a little bit unreal.”

  Marsha felt herself blushing. She didn’t know how to respond to such an assessment. She seized on one of his words in an attempt to change the subject. “But you were expecting me, right? I thought we’d agreed last night that I’d come out here today?”