Let There Be Life

by Melissa Storm

  “That makes sense. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I really need to do this by myself.” She decided not to mention her search for Bingham or the fact that Dorian was along for the ride. “How is everything back home?”

  Scarlett laughed. “A bit chaotic, to be honest. The church was taken over by termites, and my friend’s fiancée’s crazy aunt insists on her bird being ring bearer. It’s like a circus instead of a wedding.”

  “Sounds like a nightmare,” Liz said even though the antics of a wedding gone off the rails paled in comparison to her own waking nightmare.

  Scarlett continued to giggle. Liz wondered what being home did for her friend. Did she feel like a different person in Texas versus Alaska? Did everyone have more than a single self?

  “It’s kind of fun, actually, but don’t tell Ben or Summer I said that!”

  “Deal,” Liz said with a smile. She glanced down at the neon clock in her dashboard. More than an hour had passed during her call with Scarlett, and she still had at least one more to make before hitting the city. “Listen,” she told her friend, cutting off the stream of ongoing giggles. “I need to go. Talk soon.”

  The moment they hung up, Liz placed another call, this time to Sofia.

  “Are you driving?” Sofia asked, a harsh note in her voice. What an abrupt from bubbly Scarlett.

  “Yeah, you’re on Bluetooth.”

  Sofia groaned before letting up. “Okay. As long as you’re being safe.”

  “I hadn’t realized you’re such a matronly type,” Liz teased.

  Sofia didn’t defend herself and didn’t offer any further explanation for her warning, which made Liz even more uncomfortable about what came next.

  “So,” Liz began, knowing the next part of their conversation may not go down easy. “That guy who came looking for me, did he leave his number or any way to contact him?”

  “What? Liz, no. I told you to stay away from that psycho!” Sofia yelled. Sofia never yelled. At least not in Liz’s presence.

  “It’s not a big deal. I’m just trying to find out what he wanted.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but her boss and friend was not having it.

  She sighed so loud and long, it had to be for dramatic effect. “Have you learned nothing from our favorite horror movies? You never go searching for the killer alone!”

  “First off, he’s not a killer.” Liz didn’t know for sure, but was hoping that was correct. “Second, I’m not going alone. Dorian is coming with me.”

  And now Sofia laughed at her—not in a light, happy way, but with a bitter, disbelieving lilt. “Dorian? That other creepy guy who came by the store? Really, Liz?”

  “What? Maybe I misjudged him, and maybe you’ve misjudged the other guy.” Liz felt her own anger rising. How dare Sofia judge Dorian. It didn’t matter that Liz had done the same thing herself. She knew better now, and she didn’t appreciate Sofia’s accusations.

  “I sincerely doubt that,” her boss said with another long sigh.

  Liz either needed to get the information she’d requested or to end this heinous call. “Well, do you have any more information for me or not? Number? Address? Did he come by again?”

  “No, and even if I did, I wouldn’t help with this madness. I can’t believe you’re collecting psycho stalker guys like they’re Funko POP figurines. How many more do you need to add to your collection before you’ll be satisfied?”

  Liz’s voice dropped to a low hiss, a snake uncoiling like the one around Sofia’s forbidden fruit tattoo. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”

  “Darling, I’m the fairest of them all, and don’t you forget it.” Liz could picture Sofia fluffing her hair as she said this. She wondered what color it was today, since her boss’s hair changed just about as often as her mood. At least she would likely be back to her usual self by the time Liz turned up for work again. Still, their fights—when they had them—were brutal.

  “Okay then, buh-bye.”

  Liz hung up before Sofia could give her another earful.

  A half hour later, she and Dorian pulled up to her apartment building. She parked and waited for him to walk over to her door.

  “Let’s take mine,” he said.

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.” He flashed a debonair smile and opened her door for her as if she were Cinderella exiting her coach.

  At his car, he again opened the door and waited for her to climb up into the cab. Sofia was wrong about Dorian, just like Liz had once been. He wasn’t a psycho, merely misunderstood.

  Could the same be true of Bingham?

  The last time Liz rode in Dorian’s truck had been when she’d first learned of Bingham’s existence. The mysterious old man had tricked her stepsister into a fake modeling shoot to draw Liz out. Was his sudden disappearance another game, or had he truly accepted Dorian’s deal?

  “Do you think he left town? Went back to Charleston?” Liz asked.

  “I honestly don’t know,” Dorian said with a frown as if it pained him not to have all the answers for her. “I’m not even sure he lives in Charleston anymore. The number he always used to call me had an Iowa area code.”

  “So he could literally be anywhere?” Liz sank back against the seat, trying so hard not to lose hope… but they were searching for a needle in a haystack here.

  Dorian sighed. He seemed to be thinking the same thing. “I called the hotel on the way over. He still hasn’t checked back in. I asked under the name of Bingham, too. No dice.”

  “So where does that leave us?” she wanted to know.

  “I doubt we’ll find him just driving around aimlessly like this. But I also know how important it is to know you’re trying even if the odds seem impossible.”

  Liz nodded. He really did understand her. She wondered if something had happened in his past that had led him to these realizations. And if he understood what she felt now, could he help her figure out what came next.

  She had to check. “If we don’t find him, what do I do next? Do I give up the search? Try to go back to living a normal life?”

  He took a left turn onto C Street, keeping his eyes fixed on the sparse traffic ahead. “Let’s be honest, your life was never really normal. Even when you thought it might be, all this stuff was still true. It was just beneath the surface, is all.”

  “That’s not reassuring.” She closed her eyes and laid her face against the side window.

  “It’s not meant to be. And if you don’t find him here, we’ll find the answers somewhere else.”

  She sat up straight, excited by what he’d hinted. “Charleston, you mean?”

  “I was thinking that, yeah.” He turned to her and smiled.

  She smiled back. “You said we.”

  “And I meant we. I know you’re a strong, brave, feisty woman, but even the best of us need help sometimes. Let me do that for you.”

  Liz thought about that as they continued their drive up and down the grid of streets that formed the city. Dorian had offered time and again to help, and she felt more secure when he was at her side. Why fight it? If he wanted to help, then she would let him.

  “Okay,” she said at last. “Let’s go to Charleston.”

  He let out a huge sigh of relief. “I’m glad you agreed, because I kind of already booked our flights for tomorrow morning.”

  “You what? You are not putting any more money toward this, Dorian!”

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said dismissively.

  She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her swelling heart. Why was this man so good to her? How could she have been so wrong about the true nature of his character? Would they have met and become friends if not for Bingham’s search? Would they have been drawn to each other in different circumstances? Or was it possible that something so horrible had introduced something that could, in the end, be so wonderful?

  “What are you thinking about?” Dorian asked with a knowing grin.

  Liz thought quickly and came
up with an answer that was at least partially true. “I’m wondering if I’ll go crazy with waiting tonight. It’s so hard to stand still when you want to do is run full speed ahead.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.” His eyes lingered on her for a moment. Was he having the same thoughts about her that she was about him? This was all so ridiculous, the timing so terrible.

  “Don’t worry about tonight,” he said at last. “I’ll keep you distracted.”

  So much heat flooded her face, Liz thought it might spark an explosion. “Was that a pick up?”

  “I’ve already picked you up, Liz.” He motioned around the truck with a wink. “And now I’m taking you back to my place.”

  Oh my gosh! Was he serious?

  He laughed again. “No funny business, I swear. I just want to keep you safe in case Bingham turns up looking for you tonight. You left your guard dog behind, right? Well, I’d like to fill that position.”

  “So you want to be paid in dog food and cuddles?”

  “Well, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” he answered with a laugh. “Just maybe leave out the dog food, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Liz watched the buildings blur together outside her window. The businesses and tourist traps of downtown quickly gave way to the outdated, unkempt buildings of Mountain View. She normally never drove through this part of Anchorage herself, but whenever she did, she made double sure her doors were locked.

  As she passed through now, though, she felt oddly safe in Dorian’s company.

  A cracked and yellowed apartment complex loomed on their right, and outside, teens passed around a bottle in a brown paper bag. She’d expected Dorian to pull into the lot, but he kept driving. She’d known he didn’t have much money, but Mountain View? How could he have ever afforded to pay off Bingham with such a massive sum?

  Five minutes later, they arrived at a house rather than a group of apartments.

  “This is me,” Dorian announced, cutting the ignition.

  “Is this all yours?” she stared up at the two-story home before her. It was at least as big as her father’s house. Although the vinyl siding showed signs of wear and tear and the porch steps were uneven, a beautiful garden bloomed around the perimeter.

  “You seem surprised,” Dorian answered, his eyes just as green as the verdant grass in his yard.

  “Well… I…”

  He laughed. “Relax, it’s okay. I’m just teasing you.”

  She did just that as he grabbed her suitcase from the trunk and headed up the steps. They had the next steps of their search planned out. Tonight she could rest, knowing that all the biggest questions had already been answered.

  “It was my grandparents’ house,” Dorian explained as he paused on the porch and waited for her to catch up. “They lived here from the time it was built. A couple years back Grandpa died, and Grandma got moved to assisted living. My family wanted to let it go to foreclosure, but there were too many memories here to just give up.”

  “And now it’s all yours.” Liz looked at the neighboring houses with their yellowed lawns and broken toys scattered across the yards. Dorian’s home didn’t look like it belonged. He didn’t look like he belonged, yet he seemed so at ease, so proud of his home.

  “Now it’s mine. Well, I do have an occasional roommate. His name is Travis, and he’s just as likely to show up for the night as not. Usually sleeps on the couch. Don’t worry, he won’t come tonight. Already texted me.”

  “The garden is beautiful,” she said, taking in the rainbow of colors and wondering why she’d never learned to identify the various blooms.

  Dorian blushed, the fresh pink in his cheeks sharpening the greenness of his eyes. “Thanks. I’ve worked hard on it. Whenever I get writer’s block or don’t have enough side gigs to keep me busy, I come out here to weed and plant and to just be among the weeds. Pretty weird, huh?”

  She shook her head. “No, I understand completely. Just because you have a rundown house in a bad neighborhood doesn’t mean you can’t have something beautiful all your own.”

  “Ouch.” He lifted a hand to his chest and took on a pained expression, as if she’d literally broken his heart.

  The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him when he had gone to such lengths to help heal her. “I didn’t mean…”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, just teasing again. Sorry, I’ll stop. And, hey, I’m glad you like it. Just wait until you see the inside.”

  Liz followed Dorian through the front door and into a massive living room decked out with floral couches and honey wood paneling along the walls.

  “I’m guessing you can tell this was my grandma’s place?” he asked with a subtle raise of his eyebrow.

  The mid-century modern decor reminded her of the old people’s houses she’d seen on sitcoms. She’d never known her grandparents, real or otherwise, but now wasn’t the time to get into that. “Well…”

  Dorian beamed proudly. “That’s what I love about it.”

  She hadn’t pictured him for the sentimental type or for a grandma’s boy, but she nodded as he shared some of his memories of her.

  “Memories are a hard thing, you know?” he said, motioning for her to take a seat on the flowery sofa. “Sometimes they haunt you. Sometimes they slip through your fingers. Sometimes they’re all that keep you going. My grandma was my best friend growing up. I always loved coming to her house. It was like another world where my problems at home didn’t exist. Now my grandma doesn’t even know who I am most days.”

  “Oh Dorian, I’m so sorry.” She wondered how many tears he had shed over his own loss, whether she was actually lucky that Bingham was still alive and in his right mind. It meant they still had a chance. Dorian had run out of chances with his grandmother.

  He smiled wistfully. “It’s okay. I’m thankful for all the time we had together before her Alzheimer’s set in. Even if she doesn’t have our memories anymore, I do. I keep them safe for the both of us.”

  “Is that what you think my father did? With my early memories?”

  “I don’t know, but I like to think so. Don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said, answering his question as well as the ones that had been floating about in her own mind all afternoon. “Yes, I do.”

  Liz slept fitfully that night. Although Dorian had prepared a comfortable bed for her in his guest room, her newly unearthed memories rose from their graves like zombies.

  The horses.

  Their old ranch-style house.

  Even her mother. Smiling. Laughing. Alive.

  Dorian had said he’d wake her if Bingham got in contact, but she didn’t see or hear from him until he came to her room the next morning.

  “I come bearing gifts,” he called through the hollow-core door. “Well, actually breakfast.”

  “Come in!” she called, pulling herself into a cross-legged position and lifting the comforter up to her armpits to hide the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Dorian held two old-fashioned milkshake glasses with gleaming metal spoons jabbing out from the top. “Parfaits,” he explained. “Berries from the garden, and yogurt from the Red Apple.”

  “Thanks,” she said, only realizing then how hungry she’d grown running from the thoughts that had haunted her all night.

  Dorian hovered by her bed but didn’t sit. “We need to leave for the airport in about half an hour. I wanted to let you sleep as long as possible, but yeah. If you want a shower, better hop in now.”

  Liz needed far more than half an hour to tame her frizzy red mane. She’d go without for the day. Besides, if she stunk, then all the better for keeping romance at bay while they dealt with far more important matters—like the very foundation of her life.

  But what could be more important than love? a small voice from within asked, and she wondered if it were her mother’s—if that voice inside had always belonged to her mom, and she’d only just remembered now.

  “I’ll just be in the livi
ng room,” Dorian said after taking a spoonful of his own parfait. “Come down when you’re ready to go.”

  Liz watched him pad away, noticing for the first time how nice he looked from behind. Okay, so maybe she would take that shower after all.

  When she at last appeared downstairs, Dorian stood waiting at the door, jangling his keys in hand.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. He had to know that all her extra primping and preening was for him—a fact which embarrassed her greatly.

  “It’s okay,” he said with a knowing grin. “I’ll drive fast.”

  Fortunately, they managed to make it to the airport just as the boarding for their flight had begun. She still didn’t know how he’d managed to afford their tickets, and the question rose again as the air hostess seated them in business class.

  “Dorian,” she said, angered but also secretly grateful for the extra leg room. “How did you even afford this? And why business class when coach would have been perfectly fine?”

  “Okay, you got me,” he admitted from his seat next to the aisle. He’d been insistent on her settling in by the window so she could see Charleston in all its glory when the plane descended. “I didn’t book this flight. Somebody else did.”

  “Bingham?” Had he really held back this vital information from her? Did Bingham know they were coming for him?

  “No, your dad.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “Or, actually, Vanessa.”

  Liz had hardly thought of her evil stepmother in the last week, but she also couldn’t believe a woman who hated her so much would pull out all the stops to ensure her comfort like this.

  “Dorian,” she warned with a scowl. “Please be honest with me.”

  “Lying to you in the beginning was hard enough. It’s not something I want to do anymore. Ever.”

  “Then what’s the deal with this flight?”

  He shrugged and stretched his legs as far in front of him as they’d go—as if to say Yeah, I got help from the enemy, but look how comfy it is!

  “I told you,” he said with a shrug now. “Vanessa booked it for us.”