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

by P. G. Forte

  “Where are you going, I’ve got the tea almost ready.”

  He looked at her sadly. “That tea is never gonna be ready, Ma. Not ever. And I’m going to sleep, I’ve got to work in the morning.”

  A few minutes later he had crawled into bed. He reached for Scout.

  “Mmm,” she murmured as she snuggled closer. “Where’ve you been?”

  “Out on the patio, trashing your grill,” he confessed.

  Eyes still closed, she frowned at that. “My what?”

  “Your grill. You know the barbecue grill? I’m afraid I killed it.”

  “Oh.” She opened her eyes and peered up at him curiously. “Why’d you do that?”

  “I lost my temper, I guess. I just needed to smash something.”

  She smiled a little. “Hmm. I’ve been hearing something about this famous temper of yours. So... do you feel better now?”

  “Yeah, actually. I do.”

  “That’s good.” She yawned and closed her eyes again, nestling her head into his shoulder. He felt the weight of her head as it lay against his chest, the smooth slide of her hair.

  “You’re not upset?” he asked. He’d been a little worried about that.

  “Mmm-mm.” She shook her head. “Sorry I missed it though. Sounds exciting. Like performance art. Besides, we can get another one, can’t we?”

  “Another grill? Yeah, I think we could probably swing that.”

  “It’s fine, then.” She patted him lightly, with one drowsy hand, on his chest. “You just kill as many of them as you have to.”

  He put his arms around her and sighed contentedly and was just about to follow her into peaceful oblivion when he heard her voice, soft in the darkness. “Just don’t tell Dan about it... he was so fond of that grill.”

  And sleep was banished again.

  * * *

  The problem with being awake in the middle of the night, Lucy thought, was that you ended up thinking of all the worrisome things in your life over which you had no control. Like why Nick was suddenly acting so strangely. Or whether Joey would ever give Scout a break. And, even more worrisome, what on earth had been bothering Dan today?

  She had to admit, it had been kind of thrilling to see him come charging out onto the porch like some half-mad Celtic warrior, hell-bent on taking on all comers single-handed, but something had to have set him off and when she’d asked him, he wouldn’t say.

  In fact, he’d barely spoken to anyone all afternoon. He’d brooded and sulked and gone to bed early. And by the time she followed, he was already asleep. Which hadn’t exactly improved her temper, either.

  Not when she’d been dreaming about those figs all day.

  She sighed and twisted around, unable to get comfortable, while her mind gnawed on its worries. In the middle of the night, when there was nothing you could do about anything, anyway, everything just naturally emerged looking bigger and darker and more hopelessly confusing then you would ever have let yourself admit to during the daytime.

  “What’s the matter?” Dan asked, quietly. His voice was low and unhappy, and so wide awake sounding, she wondered if he’d really been sleeping after all, or just pretending he was, so he wouldn’t have to talk to her.

  “You’re awake?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh. Well, good. I wanted to ask you a question.” She wriggled closer, expecting to be taken into his arms, but instead he rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with one forearm.

  “No, I do not want to go to Arizona for Christmas.”

  “Huh?” Lucy propped herself up on an elbow and peered at him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  “I heard your mother talking to Joey about it this afternoon. I don’t want to go.”

  “Oh. Well, neither do I. But—”

  “No buts, Luce. I’m serious. I’m fuckin’ tired of all the crap that goes on in this family. I just want to take a break for a while.”

  “How’re you planning to take a break from the family?” she asked, curious.

  “It shouldn’t be so hard. Like staying off drugs. Just say no.”

  “Uh-huh.” She couldn’t help but smile at that one. Just who did he think he was kidding? “And your point?”

  “Oh, very funny. You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, sure. But you know what they say, Dan… family is like gravity, you can only get away with pretending it doesn’t exist for so long.”

  “No, I think they’re more like trees falling in a forest. If no one’s around to hear them, maybe they cease to exist.”

  “Jeez, Cavanaugh. Mix your metaphors, why don’t you?” She chuckled as she ran her hand across his ribs and up into the hair on his chest. She tugged gently. “Trees falling in a forest? Gimme a break. Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to ask you about.”

  “Well, what then?” he asked, removing his arm from across his eyes, and putting it behind his head instead.

  “What’s that line from Hamlet that the ghost uses? Something about having died in sin?”

  “Hamlet!” He stared at her. “Jeez, I don’t know. Let me think. I am thy father’s spirit, doomed for a certain term to walk the night, and for the day confined to fast in fires till the foul crimes done in my days of nature are burnt and purged away. Is that what you mean?”

  “Nah, that’s not it.”

  “Okay... then how about, My hour is almost come when I to sulfurous and tormenting flames must render up myself?”

  “No, it was something to do with his not having gotten absolution. Dying with all his sins still on his soul.”

  “Oh,” he said on a yawn. “Okay, I got it now, I think. Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, unhous’led, disappointed, unaneled, no reckoning made, but sent to my account with all my imperfections on my head.”

  “I think so... are you sure that’s how it goes?”

  “Yeah, that’s how it goes, all right. What made you think about that, anyway?” He smiled faintly as he reached out to play with her hair, winding a lock of it around his finger.

  “It’s not important. It was just something that popped into my head today at church. I couldn’t remember the line, but I knew you would.”

  “Well, always glad to be of service, babe.”

  “Hmm.” She smiled at him. “I could maybe think of some other ways... if you’re really all that glad.”

  “Oh you could, huh?” He tugged on her hair, pulling her closer. “You know, it’s a good thing Janice isn’t around to hear this. She already thinks you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

  “Janice? Ha. She’s a tree falling in the forest, who cares what she thinks?” She just barely touched her lips to his, before retreating. “Besides,” she murmured, tapping the hand that held her hair. “It looks to me like it’s the other way around at the moment.”

  “C’mere you,” he growled suddenly, releasing her hair and pulling her to him. She went eagerly into his embrace, thrilling as always to the feel of his hands moving over her, loving her, claiming her.

  Sixteen years of marriage had done nothing to dull the sensations he’d always been able to elicit from her. He was so dear to her, so comfortably familiar, so impossibly sexy.

  “Oh, God, Lucy,” he muttered, his voice muffled against her breast. “I need you... so much.”

  Tonight, there was nothing playful about their lovemaking, nothing slow or subtle or seductive. It was fast and furious, and a small part of her did wonder at the strange mood of desperation that seemed to have gripped him. But then he was moaning her name, over and over again, with so much longing in his voice that she found herself swept up by the same frantic need she sensed in him.

  * * *

  Much later, Dan wrapped his arm around his wife, settling her close against him as she curled into sleep at his side. She murmured something that he didn’t catch at first.

  “What’s that, babe?” he asked, then laughed as she repeated her words with a sleepy little chuckle.

  “I
said, good night, sweet prince. What’s the matter, Cavanaugh? You think you’re the only one here who can remember stuff like that?”

  “No, Luce, that’s one mistake I’d never make.”

  Hamlet? Jeez, what would she think of next? He had known the woman for eighteen years and she was still a constant surprise. And God, how he loved her. He’d been in a perfectly foul mood when he’d gone to bed tonight, trust her to change that. And with Shakespeare, yet! Not that Hamlet would have been his first choice for a seduction, but given the way his thoughts had been trending all afternoon, strangely apropos.

  Murder most foul, as in the best it is, but this most foul, strange and unnatural.

  Paige Delaney. Christ almighty, he’d never known a bigger troublemaker in his entire life. And even now, even dead, she was still causing him grief.

  Beside him, Lucy had fallen into a peaceful sleep, but Dan knew it would be a long, long time before sleep would come for him. And when it did? Once again, he thought, Lucy had nailed it with Hamlet. To sleep, perchance to dream – aye, there’s the rub.

  Shit. Who was he kidding, anyway? He was never gonna sleep.

  Angels and ministers of grace defend us.

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Seventeen

  * * * *

  “Pregnant? You gotta be kidding me?” Lucy’s voice was loud enough to carry across the terrace, and Marsha couldn’t help but notice when several heads turned in their direction. Monday mornings were generally pretty slow, but not today. The weather was beautiful – every bit as warm and sunny as yesterday had been. And the small town was beginning to fill with tourists and various craftspeople in anticipation of the annual Harvest Craft Fair taking place the following weekend. As a result, the terrace was more crowded than it had been in weeks.

  “That poor child,” Lucy continued, further disrupting the peaceful atmosphere. “I mean, the woman can barely manage to feed herself! And you know he’s never been a great father. Not by anybody’s standards.”

  “You know, Lucy,” Marsha grumbled, sipping at the cup of lemongrass tea she was just not enjoying as much as she’d expected to, “this is exactly why people don’t want to tell you things. You’re always overreacting.”

  “I’m overreacting? Oh, please.” Lucy turned to the other women seated around the table with them. “Does this make sense to anyone else?”

  “To be honest, it’s never really made much sense to me either, Marsha,” answered Ginny Hartman. Ginny and her partner Heather Finch were usually the first to leave these little breakfast meetings, hurrying down to the other end of Main Street to open their bookstore while the rest of them were still on their second lattes. They operated Digressions according to a schedule popular with many of Oberon’s shop owners, with morning hours between 10:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. and then reopening between 2:00 to 5:00 in the afternoon. “What does he see in her, do you suppose?”

  “Well, that’s obvious enough, isn’t it?” Marsha felt compelled to answer. Fair was fair, after all. “She’s blonde, she’s thin, she’s kind of peppy,” she trailed off as her friends stared at her, their expression ranging from disbelief to outrage.

  “Blonde?” Lucy practically choked on the word. “Let me tell you something, Marsha. For ten dollars you could be a blonde, too. And it would be just as natural looking as hers.”

  “Although why you’d want to trade your gorgeous hair for stuff that looks like something a horse has been chewing on is anybody’s guess,” Heather agreed.

  “Right,” Lucy nodded, “Besides, she smokes!”

  Marsha watched as Heather’s eyes slid past her, and her smile widened. She turned to see Scout, who’d been returning from the bathroom, regarding Lucy with a wary, alarmed expression on her face. Oh, shit. Marsha sighed wearily. This lingering tension between Lucy and Scout was getting so freaking old. Would they never get over it?

  “Well, so what, Lucy?” Heather said. “Scout smokes.”

  Lucy barely glanced at Scout before continuing. “That’s not the point, Heather. Scout isn’t pond scum.”

  Scout sat down again, somewhat cautiously. “Uh, gee ... thanks, Lucy. I think. What are you guys talking about?”

  “Marsha’s ex,” Ginny informed her. “His new wife’s pregnant, and Lucy’s having a bit of a problem with it.”

  “Lucy’s always had a problem with Alex,” Siobhan interjected. “Not that I blame her. The man’s a rodent. I never understood what you saw in him either, Marsha.”

  “Oh, that part’s easy,” Lucy said, waving a hand dismissively. “She saw her little boys twinkling in his eyes. That had to be what she fell in love with, don’t you think?”

  “It makes as much sense as anything else,” Ginny said thoughtfully. “Although, apparently those other young women he was running around with must have seen something they wanted, as well.”

  Heather snorted. “Sure they did – better grades.”

  “Oh, and that’s another thing, Marsha.” Lucy slurped at her espresso before continuing. “So what she’s thin? She’s a stick! Who wants to be thin, if it means having to look like that?”

  “Yeah, you might not be as thin as Sherry.” Heather grinned. “But at least you look like a woman. Instead of a, a—”

  “Instead of a stick!” Lucy repeated. “Not that Alex isn’t something of a stick himself, come to think of it. He looks kinda like a vulture, doesn’t he? All gawky and stooped looking? Not to mention the receding hairline. And what is up with that weasily little beard he’s taken to wearing – does he think it makes him look scholarly, or something? Your boys are so lucky they don’t take after him. My God, wouldn’t that be awful?”

  “You really are much prettier than Sherry, Marsha.” Siobhan smiled at her, and Marsha felt herself blushing. “You have to know that.”

  “And way sexier looking. Definitely.” Heather turned to Ginny. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Well, of course.” Ginny nodded. “Anyone would agree with that. But there has to be another explanation. Because really, Marsha – you can’t possibly believe he left you for another woman just because of the way she looks.”

  Marsha laughed bitterly. “Oh, and that makes me feel so much better. So, what then? You think maybe he didn’t like my personality, either?”

  “C’mon, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Scout broke her long silence. “He’s intimidated by you. I mean, besides all the psychic stuff and everything, you’re also warm, and outgoing—”

  “And smart, and funny,” Heather added.

  “And too damn good for him,” Lucy insisted. “Like I’ve been saying for years.”

  “And, I don’t know either of them very well,” Scout continued. “But they’re two of the most boring people I’ve ever met.”

  Lucy snorted. “Boring? Yeah, no shit. They’re like the walking dead. Two fucking dried up, dead sticks.”

  Heather chuckled. “Hey, maybe that was the attraction. Maybe they thought if they rubbed themselves together long enough they’d produce a little spark?”

  “Well, then, I guess they were right,” Siobhan said, laughing as she got up to leave. “Maybe they should call the baby Sparky. Except that sounds more like a dog’s name.”

  Lucy shook her head. “If the poor thing takes after either one of them, a dog’s name oughta work out fine.”

  Marsha couldn’t help but smile. “Well, you know, Frank did say that he and Jesse were hoping for a dog, instead.”

  “Speaking of dogs, where’s Sara today?” Heather asked, turning to Scout.

  “Saramas,” Ginny said musingly. “Such an inspired name for her. The dawn dog.”

  “She’s at home,” Scout answered absently, staring at Ginny. “Saramas?”

  “Isn’t that where you got her name?” Ginny looked surprised. “From the Indian legend? You know, the dog that runs across the sky at dawn?”

  Scout frowned in consternation. “No. It just sort of popped into my head.”

&nbs
p; Marsha smiled to herself. She wondered if Scout would ever get comfortable with the serendipity that seemed to lace all their lives.

  “Well, I’m outta here,” Siobhan said, draining her cup, and gathering her things. “You wouldn’t believe all the extra work I have because of that murder.”

  “Oh, sure we would,” Lucy grumbled. “My cousin’s been MIA all weekend because of it.” She turned to Scout, “What time did he finally get home last night?”

  “I don’t know, it was real late, though. I was already asleep.”

  “How’s the investigation going?” Marsha asked, rocking her head from side to side to ease the tension that she could feel creeping up her neck. “Did he find anyone yet to help with the computer?”

  “I really hope he can wrap things up quickly,” Siobhan added. “Because I do need to get back all that stuff they took. The sooner the better.”

  “I don’t know anything about it,” Scout admitted. “Like I said, he got in late last night, and this morning he was gone again before I woke up. But I guess it’s not going too well.” She chuckled suddenly. “He was so pissed off when he got home last night, he pretty much destroyed the barbecue grill. You oughta see it. It’s in pieces all over the lawn.”

  “Yeah, that’s Nick for you.” Lucy shook her head.

  “Well, but this must be so hard for him,” Ginny said softly. “I mean, if the rumors are true?”

  “Oh, they’re true, all right,” Siobhan grimaced. “But I’d forgotten all about that. Shit, no wonder he was in such a lousy mood Saturday. Poor Nick.”

  “It’s probably a relief for you though, huh, Lucy?” Heather added with a mischievous smile. “You do have an alibi, right?”

  Lucy looked around the table. “What the hell are you all talking about? What’s a relief?”

  “And why ‘poor Nick’?” Scout asked.

  Lucy still didn’t know? Marsha stared at her for a moment in surprise. Oh, fuck, she thought, with a sinking heart. Where the hell has my head been all weekend? I should have seen this one coming for sure. But she knew where her head had been – tied up and distracted by thoughts of Sam.