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

by P. G. Forte

  “So, you gave me what you knew I needed, without being asked. So what? That’s what you do, isn’t it? Where’s the problem?”

  “Well, there’s a big problem with that, actually, but that’s not the point. That’s not why I did it. I did it for me. I wanted you to see me. Me. Not as a friend, but as a woman. Someone you could…maybe…be attracted to.”

  He smiled, once again savoring the feel of her in his arms, as he thought back to his first night here and the hours he’d spent staring at her photo, wondering who she was, how he might meet her. “I always saw you that way, Marsha. Right from the start – long before the amulet.”

  He didn’t believe in Fate, or Destiny, or even in the idea that they were somehow meant to be. But what they had together – what they could have, if she’d let them – was something unique and special. Something he might have spent his whole life missing, if he hadn’t found her. Something he’d definitely spend the rest of his life regretting, if he couldn’t, somehow, convince her to give them another chance.

  “Marsha I—” he began, but broke off again when he realized he had no idea what more he could say. He still didn’t know how to ask for what he needed.

  It took him a couple of moments to realize that she had fallen asleep. And though the last place he felt like sleeping was seated on a couch, neither could he bring himself to leave her. He pulled the chenille throw off the back of the couch, and spread it over them both, put his feet up on the table, and closed his eyes.

  The sun was shining brightly in the little grove when he woke up, and he wondered again at all the changes he observed. Plants he couldn’t remember even seeing before were now in full bloom. Down at the edge of the clearing, a small, round table had been set up, as if for a party. He could see a woman seated there, in a long, flowing dress and a large straw hat, reading a book. She looked up as he approached, and he was startled to see that her eyes were a brilliant, improbable shade of violet. “Well, hello there,” she said, eyebrows lifting as she gazed at him. “You’re something of a surprise, aren’t you?”

  He looked around the glade, feeling strangely out of place. He frowned. “Is Marsha here?”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’ll be along in a moment,” the woman answered, closing her book and placing it on the table. “It’s Sam, right? Would you care for some tea, while we’re waiting?”

  He could see that the table had been set for only two, and he knew that he had not been expected. “Oh, no. That’s okay,” he began, but she picked up a third cup from somewhere and handed it to him.

  “Really, I insist.” Her smile was curiously intent. “Tell me what you see.”

  He looked into the cup, which he saw held only tealeaves, and sighed. He really wasn’t in the mood for games, but he didn’t want to be rude, either.

  “Well, let’s see... there’s an axe, a bouquet of flowers, a tree, a flock of pigeons and a swan,” he told her.

  “Perfect!” she applauded as she removed the cup from his hands and returned it to one of the three place settings on the table. “You did that very nicely, by the way.”

  “So... but what does it all mean?” he asked, curious despite himself.

  “A happy ending, of course.” She smiled at him serenely. Then, glancing over his shoulder, she added, “Ah, here’s our girl now.”

  He turned, just in time to see Marsha walking toward them. A curious trick of the light as it fell through the leaves made it appear as if she’d materialized right out of the glade itself.

  “Sam?” She looked as though she were amazed to find him here, but she was smiling, so he didn’t care.

  And when she walked right up to him; when she came right into his arms with no hesitation at all; when she lifted her face to his and kissed him back as eagerly as he kissed her, he felt amazed himself.

  “But how—what are you doing here?” she asked at last, still staring at him wonderingly, as if he were either the last person she expected to see, or this was the last place she expected to see him.

  “Ah, Marsha, where else would I be? Where else could I go, when I can’t get you out of my head, or my heart? Lady... do you have any idea how you’ve haunted my dreams these past weeks?”

  “Oh, I have, have I?” She laughed a little ruefully, “Is that a fact?”

  He groaned and tightened his grasp around her. “You don’t know! Please angel, don’t send me away again,” he begged as he pressed his lips against the cool silk of her hair. “I’ve been so lonely without you. Just give us a chance. Don’t shut me out. Please.”

  She pulled away a little and looked up at him again, her gaze curious. Her hands smoothed up his chest and across his shoulders, as if she still couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

  “Shut you out, Sam?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t appear I have much choice in the matter, does it? You seem to be able to get in anywhere you want.”

  Something in the way she said it worried him. “Do you really want to keep me out?” he asked, though he dreaded hearing the answer.

  She nodded. The smile disappeared from her lips. Her eyes looked wide and haunted. “You were right, you know. I am afraid,” she answered sadly. “It hurts so much to wake up and find myself alone again. And even though I wanted you, I…I didn’t realize how frightening it could be, to be that…open, that vulnerable. I can’t take the risk of being hurt again. I don’t know how to get over that.”

  I’d never do anything to hurt you, angel. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but before he could say them, a memory surfaced. He’d promised her that once before, hadn’t he? He hadn’t meant to, he hadn’t known it at the time, but he’d been lying when he said it. And she’d believed him. She’d trusted him. No wonder she was so reluctant to do so now.

  He gazed at her, feeling suddenly hopeless. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

  “At present I know partially; then I shall know fully, as I am fully known,” a soft voice seemed to echo in the glade. “You know, Marsha, I did think you’d have this figured out by now.”

  Sam had forgotten all about the other woman. He glanced at her. She was smiling at them both, just a little sadly. “How does it go again? Oh, yes. There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear. Very apropos, I thought when I read it.”

  Marsha turned to her with a laugh. “Did you? And since when did you start quoting scripture, anyway?”

  “It’s a recent interest, I’ll admit,” the other woman said, eyes sparkling. “The thing is, it’s okay to be happy, sweetie. We all make mistakes, but where there’s life, there’s hope, right? And faith. And love. It’s never too late for a second chance – not while you’re living, anyway. Try and remember that.”

  “I know, Celeste. And I do try. But it’s just—” She broke off suddenly to yelp in outrage. “What is that thing doing here? A picnic table? Damn it, Celeste! That is not funny!”

  “Oh, but it is, you know,” the other woman responded with a crow of laughter. “You just have no idea how funny it is.”

  Sam stared at the table, which seemed to have changed in some indefinable manner. Had it always been a rectangle? Then something else caught his attention. Did she just say— “Celeste?” he repeated, as panic began to flood through his consciousness.

  “Oh, dear,” the woman murmured, looking at him pityingly. “I was wondering when you’d realize where you were.”

  “Marsha?” he begged, “Please. Don’t tell me this was just a dream?”

  She stared at him, surprise and confusion on her face. “Sam?”

  “Was it a vision or a waking dream?” Celeste recited dreamily. “Fled is that music – do I wake or sleep? Keats. Another of my favorites. Well, good-bye, Sam. It was very nice meeting you. I hope to see you again sometime.”

  “Marsha, please,” he begged again, but even as he tried to hold onto her, she faded from his sight. His arms felt empty. Everything around him grew blurry and indistinct. All the colors ran together, like a wa
tercolor painting in the rain...

  The sun was shining brightly in the living room when he woke up. Sam opened his eyes to find himself still seated on the couch. It took him a few moments longer to realize he was alone.

  Just another dream. He groaned. He should have known it would never be that easy, but it had all seemed so real!

  He heard the sound of the van’s engine starting up outside, and his heart sank further. She must have flooded it last night. He had half thought that was the case, but he’d dared to believe it might be otherwise. He closed his eyes again, as close to despair as he had ever been. She was leaving. Without even waiting to say good bye. There’d be no second chance again today.

  The sound of the cabin door closing quietly got his attention and he opened his eyes. Marsha stood just inside it, frowning to herself.

  “Forget something?” he asked, unable to contain the agony of bitterness he felt.

  She regarded him thoughtfully. “No, I don’t believe so.”

  “I thought I heard your van start?”

  She smiled. “Oh, yeah. It’s working just fine now.” She looked at him for a moment more, almost as if she were waiting for him to say something.

  The teakettle started to whistle. She flashed him one more inscrutable look, then headed for the kitchen. He surged to his feet and followed after her.

  “So, I guess you’ll be leaving now, huh?” he challenged. This was no way to negotiate, no way to win her over, but he could not stop himself.

  She took the kettle off the stove and poured water into the teapot that stood ready on the counter. “I wasn’t planning to. At least, not right away. It’s my day off, after all.” She looked back at him over her shoulder, and nodded toward the table. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  He didn’t want to sit. He wanted to grab her and kiss her until she begged him to stay. Until she admitted that she loved him. Until she promised to give him one more chance to put things right between them. But that didn’t seem like a very viable option, so he sank reluctantly into a chair, instead; watching moodily as she took toast out of the toaster and buttered it.

  “Anyway, as I was saying, it’s my day off and I thought it might be... what was that word again? Oh, yeah. Enjoyable to spend some of it right here.”

  She was mocking him with his own words, and by offering him exactly what he’d offered her a month ago. But it was no longer enough.

  “I’m not interested in just spending the day with you,” he told her, watching as she poured the tea into two mugs, then carried the mugs and the plate of toast to the table.

  She bit her lip. “I see,” she said, not looking at him, at all; her attention focused on the dishes as she arranged them on the table. “So, then... what are you interested in?”

  “I was thinking about the rest of our lives,” he said bleakly.

  “Oh.” She nodded once or twice and then fidgeted with the mugs a little more. “Well, I think... there might be just one small problem with that.”

  And now he had to look away as well, unable to face her rejection yet again. “What would that be?” he asked quietly.

  “Well, uh... for one thing, we appear to be out of marmalade.”

  “Marmalade,” he repeated in stunned confusion, glancing up at her again.

  “Mmm.” A small smile played over her lips. “Seems some... rat or something... has been in here sometime in the last month, and eaten it all.”

  “Marmalade?” he demanded as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down into his lap. His heart was beating wildly, he hardly dared hope he wasn’t dreaming now.

  “Uh-huh. I’ve looked all over, but there’s not a speck to be had.” She clasped her hands behind his neck, and stared at him, all wide-eyed and innocent. “Not anywhere.”

  “Marsha—”

  “And as I recall, marmalade was a big part of the offer you made awhile back, wasn’t it?”

  “It was,” he agreed a little breathlessly. “How about a substitute?”

  “Gee, Sam, I don’t know. What did you have in mind?”

  “Just this,” he said as he lowered his face to hers. He put everything into his kiss this time. All his hopes, all his dreams, all the love he felt for her. And, yes, oh yes, he thought in blissful relief as he felt her arms tighten around his neck, felt her return his kiss and everything it contained.

  “I meant what I said before, you know,” he told her, his voice shaky, when he finally ended the kiss, forgetting that he only dreamed he’d said it. “You are in my heart. You’re a part of me now. I wouldn’t change that if I could. I love you.”

  “I know,” she said quietly, adding after a moment. “I love you, too.”

  “Do you really?” He scanned her face, greedy for proof that she meant what she said.

  She blinked back tears and smiled. “Oh, yeah. I do. I really do. I’m still afraid, you know, but…well, you’re a part of me now, too, Sam. And I think maybe I’m more afraid of losing that than I am of being hurt.”

  “I want it all, Marsha,” he told her, “I want to marry you and build a life here with you and never be away from you again.” He lifted her chin, needing to see her eyes as he asked, “So, what do you say? Are you willing to take a chance on me – even without the marmalade?”

  Her lips trembled, her eyes slid away from his face. “Well, you drive a hard bargain, Sam, but…I think maybe we can work something out. Eventually.”

  “What do you mean eventually?” he demanded, framing her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze again, his heart clutching… until he realized she was teasing him.

  “I mean, we don’t have to stop... negotiating…just yet, do we?” Her eyes, still tinged with fear, begged him to help her cope, to play along, to meet her halfway. But he had no intentions of stopping at half. Whether she believed it yet or not, he was going the distance. He was taking them all the way home.

  Still, if she needed him to keep things light right now, to smooth over her fears with a joke or two, he was more than willing to oblige. “Oh, we can negotiate for as long as you like, angel” he said, as he gathered her back into his arms for another kiss. “Just as long as, eventually, I get what I want.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she murmured against his lips. “Could be we’ll both get a little something out of this.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “Little? You must be dreaming. ‘Cause, doll, you know there’s nothing little about what I’ve got for you.”

  She laughed too, then. “Well, you know what they say, Sam. If you’re gonna dream, dream big. But this is one dream I can definitely see coming true.”

  He could only hope she was right. Heart soaring, he bent his head and feathered kisses along her jawline. “Is that a prediction, angel?”

  She shook her head, pulling away just far enough for him to see the certainty that glowed now in the crystal depths of her eyes. “No, Sam. Oh, no. That’s a promise.”

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  BOOK 3

  Sound of a Voice That is Still

  But O for the touch of a vanished hand,

  And the sound of a voice that is still!

  Break, break, break at the foot of thy crags, O Sea!

  But the tender grace of a day that is dead will never come back to me.

  (Tennyson — Break, Break, Break)

  ... But the rain

  Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

  Upon the glass and listen for reply,

  And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain.

  (Millay — What Lips My Lips Have Kissed)

  * * * *

  Prologue

  * * * *

  Oberon, California

  Mid-September

  “Marsha, what is this I’ve just heard about you?” Siobhan Quinn asked as she grabbed her sister by the arm. Clear September sunlight glinted on the bronze of Marsha’s hair and the shimmery Nile silk of her bridesmaid’s dress. The garden around them was a brilliant collage of flowers, and
butterflies, and the equally colorful dresses worn by many of the guests. But Siobhan was blind to the bright beauty of the scene.

  “I don’t know,” Marsha answered cautiously. “What did you hear?”

  “That you almost got yourself killed? Again?”

  A low voice laughed mockingly behind her. “Again?”

  Siobhan turned quickly towards the voice, startled to realize that in her hurry to get to her sister she had brushed right past the speaker – a blond young man, his leg bandaged, seated in a wheelchair – without even noticing him.

  His eyes flicked over her briefly and then his glance shifted once again to Marsha. An expression of wry sympathy lit his face. A look much warmer than the one he had just given her, Siobhan couldn’t help but notice. “What does she mean, again? This something you make a habit of?” he asked.

  “She does, actually,” Siobhan was stung into replying, even though the question had clearly not been addressed to her – earning her another look. His eyes, a pale blue-green, cool as marble, and vaguely familiar, observed her steadily from beneath raised brows.

  Had they met before? She gazed back at him uncertainly for another long moment, but no memory surfaced. She turned back to her sister. “This is what, Marsha? The fourth time, now?”

  Marsha shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. About that. But really, this time was totally different, Vonne. I didn’t even get hurt.”

  “No, you left that to me.” His voice held humor, but more than a trace of chagrin.

  Siobhan looked at him in surprise. “You? What happened to you?”

  “That’s how Ryan got shot,” Marsha told her. “He was one of the cops who tried to rescue me.”

  “Tried?” He sounded affronted. “Well, there’s gratitude for you. I notice you’re still here.”

  Siobhan surprised herself then by laughing. His eyes met hers again, and this time they were undeniably warmer. Like the sea on a sunny day. When he grinned, suddenly, she surprised herself even more by returning his smile.