by Carol Caiton
The cop still hadn't been introduced, but nobody was thinking about niceties under the circumstances. He leaned down and kissed Mrs. Oslund's cheek. Then he shook hands with Rachel's father.
Good. He was getting ready to leave. Then he walked over to Mason and said, "I'm sorry about Luke. He and Jill were good together. I liked him."
Mason nodded and they shook hands. Then the cop looked over at him, gave a single curt nod, and left the house.
Mason turned to Mr. Oslund and held out his hand. "I need to see to my family now. My mother still has Joshua."
Rachel's father stretched out his hand as well. "Of course you do. Thank you for taking care of Jill." He cleared his throat, still grasping Mason's hand. "Let us know if we can help with the arrangements . . . or with anything else."
Way past ready to leave, Michael stepped forward. "I'll drive you in my car." He held out his hand, palm up. "Give me your keys so Mr. Oslund can show me where to park yours for now."
He'd decided to get this over with. Better to know now what he was up against than to wonder about it.
"Good idea," Rachel's father said.
Mason reached inside his pants pocket and handed over his keys. Smart man. He knew better than to drive at a time like this.
Michael said a polite goodbye to Mrs. Oslund, then followed her husband to the front door. The doctor held it open for him, and they stepped outside.
"So," Michael said when the door closed again, "do I need to worry about you coming after me now?"
Rachel's father walked silently beside him to Mason's BMW parked at the curb. Michael stopped at the driver's door and looked at the other man when it seemed like he wasn't going to answer.
The older guy was studying him, a curious expression on his face. Then he said, "Michael, for eleven years I've watch Rachel struggle to overcome what happened to her. She was so little when—" He broke off for a second, then started again. "The night she sat down and told us she wanted to join RUSH, to work toward using sex as a form of therapy, I had to leave the room. As a father and as a physician, what she suggested was unthinkable. Your Dr. Zeman felt the same way. He was reluctant to go along with her plan."
Pausing, her father looked down at the pavement. He pushed his hands into his pockets, then looked back up again. "But Rachel is twenty-three," he said. "She was fighting for her future. She's intelligent and level-headed, and her struggles have molded who she is. They've given her an inner strength few of us will ever achieve." He sighed. "She doesn't know it, but I asked Dan Zeman to give her this chance if it fell within the boundaries of his practice. Because she earned the right to make that call. And after what I saw and heard tonight, my faith in her judgment has only strengthened."
Michael propped one hand on the roof of Mason's car and tried to figure out what made this guy tick. Any other parent would have wanted his head on a chopping block. "How do you do that?" he asked, and he genuinely wanted to know.
"Do what?"
"You're her father. She's a princess, goddamn it. And I'm a—" He stopped abruptly and stared. "You know what I am. You know what I came from. I don't know how you know, but you saw right through to my soul the night we met. So how the hell can you put what she wants ahead of what you know?"
Her father smiled. "It's called love, Michael. And the man I see in front of me may have a rocky past, but he's every bit as level-headed and strong as Rachel . . . and more than capable of taking care of my princess. That's what I know."
Michael clamped his jaw shut. He wasn't going to be taking care of Rachel or anyone else. He was going straight back to the life he knew. RUSH, women, and good times.
The memory of butterfly kisses on his chest whispered across his mind and he pushed it away.
When the front door opened and Mason came out, followed by Mrs. Oslund, he pulled himself together. Geez, he'd completely forgotten about Luke while standing here talking.
Opening the driver's door, he saw Rachel's oversized handbag in the back beside Joshua's car seat, her clothes beneath it. He reached in, lifted everything out, and handed it all to her father.
"These are Rachel's," he said. "Tell her I couldn't wait. Tell her Mason needed to leave." He stared directly into her father's eyes. "And tell her not to come back to RUSH anymore." Then he climbed in behind the wheel and said, "Where do you want me to park this?"
As directed, he drove Mason's car up onto a strip of lawn beside the driveway, then killed the engine and pocketed the keys. It was time to get out of here.
Mason stood beside the Lotus's passenger door and without another word to Rachel's father, Michael walked to his own car, unlocked it, and got in. He waited for Mason to buckle his seatbelt, then twisted the key in the ignition and pulled away from the Oslund house without a backward glance in the rearview mirror.
He should have grabbed a jacket before leaving the house. The days had been warm enough, but once the sun went down, the temperature dropped. He turned on the heater, but he wondered if he was the only one who noticed.
"I phoned Malcolm," he said into the silence. "If it'll make things easier for you and your family, let us know where you want things done and we'll take care of everything."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mason turn to look at him. "Thanks, Michael. I haven't thought that far ahead, but I'll get back to you."
"Okay."
A few more minutes passed in silence and he figured Mason just wanted to be left alone with his thoughts. He already knew where Mrs. Ingersol lived because he'd dropped Joshua off there not long ago when Mason was tied up at the courthouse. So he eased into I-4 traffic and headed west.
"How long have you known Rachel?" Mason asked after another minute. So maybe he didn't want to be left alone with his thoughts.
"Not long. I met her just before her first session with Dalton. At the koi pond. She was walking around exploring I think."
If Mason wondered how he'd gotten her into bed—and he probably did—he didn't ask. And he wouldn't. Mason wasn't intrusive like that. "I told her father to tell her not to come back to RUSH," Michael said.
Mason nodded once, then faced forward again. "Good. Her sessions with Dalton were getting uncomfortable to watch."
Michael agreed with him on that. He downshifted, changed lanes, and sped up again. Friday evening rush hour was still going pretty strong, but at least traffic was moving. He wondered where Luke's accident had occurred.
"Talk to me, Michael. Give me something else to think about, will you?"
"Yeah, okay, I can do that." He didn't have to search for a topic either. "Who's Ali?" He glanced at Mason then turned his attention back to the interstate.
"Ali," Mason repeated, then went silent.
"Yeah," Michael persisted. "They were talking about someone named Ali. Do you know who she is?"
"Ali's someone else who doesn't belong at RUSH."
Michael frowned. What the hell did that mean? "And?" he pushed.
Mason kept staring out the windshield, but he answered. "Ali grew up with Jill and Rachel. The Oslunds consider her a third daughter."
"So she's a friend of the family then."
"Yes."
"And what about the cop? Why does he keep turning up everywhere I go?"
Mason hesitated. "His name is Nathan Brosig. He's Ali's brother."
Brosig. He knew the name. So Rachel must have grown up with him, too. That explained a few things, but it opened up a few more questions. Like what was the guy doing at RUSH? Had he been there to keep an eye on Rachel, or was it more than that?
"Brace yourself," Mason said.
"For what?"
"Nathan shot the son of a bitch who raped Rachel."
Michael tightened his hands around the steering wheel, gripping hard and reminding himself to pay attention to traffic. "Did he kill him?" he asked in a tight voice.
"Yes—three bullets to the chest. But the bastard was still on top of her when he fired his gun."
For a second Michael cou
ldn't breathe. Thoughts crowded in on his mind. Thoughts of his own past. Of her. She was so little, her father had said.
Calm. He had to stay calm.
He drove in silence for a while, pulling over into the right turn lane when he saw his exit coming up. "So why do Rachel and Jill worry about him?" —And did Rachel go visit the cop like her sister did? Only he didn't ask that.
"According to Jill, they all grew up worrying about Nathan. His father was a cop, killed in the line of duty, and Ali's anxiety rubbed off onto the twins." He pointed toward the street his mother lived on and Michael made the turn. "Luke wanted an answer to that question too."
Back to Luke. It was inevitable since they were all interwoven. "Third house?" he asked.
"Yes."
His cell phone rang as he pulled up to the curb. The display said it was Simon. He took the call, kept it short, then turned to Mason. "I'm gonna pick Simon up from here. We'll go back to the Oslund's, get your car and bring it up here."
Mason paused, his hand on the door. "Thanks."
"No problem. You want me to wait out here for a while?"
"No. I'll be . . . some time. Josh and I will probably end up staying the night."
"Okay then. Where do you want me to leave your keys when we drop the car off?"
"Under the seat. I keep a spare in my wallet, so I won't be locked out."
"Okay. Malcolm will be in touch later. And we'll wait for your call about everything else."
Mason met his eyes, nodded, and climbed out of the car.
* * *
Michael was at the funeral. Rachel had seen him when she and her parents entered the church vestibule, waiting to offer their condolences to Mrs. Ingersol, Mason, and Jill who had been asked to stand with them. It was no surprise to see him there. She hadn't heard from him since the day he made love to her, but it was a difficult time for everyone and she knew from Jill that he was helping with the funeral arrangements.
He'd been standing off to the side with a group of men when she first spotted him—the same group of men he stood with now in the reception hall. She supposed they were all from RUSH because Dr. Zeman was part of the group, engaged in conversation with the tall dark-haired man beside Michael.
She recognized others as well when they stopped by, talked for a minute or so, then moved on. First, the receptionist from the administrative building. Then, a cashier she'd seen at Magnolias. And the husky Slavic man who had shown her the way to Classroom C.
"Which one is Michael?" Ali asked from beside her. Apparently she, too, had concluded the group was from RUSH.
"He's the one in the gray suit. Blond hair . . . a little shaggy . . . just touching the collar of his suit jacket."
Ali turned to her with startled eyes. "For goodness sake, Rachel, he's gorgeous."
Rachel smiled. "Yes, he is."
Ali still had reservations where Michael was concerned. But she was willing to view him in a more favorable light after learning he'd taken Rachel away from RUSH during a difficult session. She didn't know the details of that session because Rachel hadn't shared them. Nor did she know that Michael didn't want her to work with Dalton anymore. But the fact that he'd been keeping an eye on her friend had softened her opinion.
But Ali's expression became troubled. "I told you I threw up in the bushes when I went there. Legally, I know we can't discuss what we've seen at RUSH, but it was depraved, Rachel. I didn't know people did the things I saw. Be careful. Please. Stay with people you know while you're there and don't wander off alone."
Rachel's smile waned. She'd done a lot of wandering around alone while at RUSH. It was beautiful and exotic and mysterious and she'd explored the grounds before every session she'd had with Dalton. But she didn't doubt Ali had seen something horrific. The manacles dangling from that thick black chain in the turret room had hinted at a darker side to RUSH. Just the chain alone could evoke a whole range of horrors if she allowed herself to think about it.
"I believe you," she said quietly. "I don't know what you saw or where you saw it, but the microchip in my arm won't allow me to wander into any of RUSH's venues. And that's probably a good thing." She lowered her voice a little more. "But I don't see anything depraved or perverted when I look at Mason or Michael. Mason is a good and decent man. And Michael . . . well, it's too late for me to exercise caution there. I've fallen pretty hard."
She looked over in his direction. He was smiling. They were all smiling. Something had amused them so she followed their gazes to where Mason's little boy rolled an oversized pumpkin through a clearing along the floor.
Mason apparently saw him too. Separating himself from his mother and Jill, he made it half the distance to his son when Joshua looked up and spotted him.
With new speed and vigor the little boy doubled his efforts and nearly fell over the pumpkin before righting himself and continuing on.
Under the circumstances no one laughed, but Rachel had a difficult time holding it back.
Mason, of course, caught up. He hunkered down and placed one hand on the pumpkin to prevent his son from maneuvering it any farther.
But Joshua held onto his prize with both arms wrapped around it. Mason said something to him and Joshua shook his head. Then he pointed his index finger, still holding onto the pumpkin, and Rachel was surprised when both of them looked over at her.
No, she quickly amended, not at her. They were looking at Ali.
Mason's expression was closed and unreadable. He turned back to Joshua, nodded, and rose to his feet.
Rachel kept watching while, in a macabre sort of ceremony, Joshua resumed rolling the awkward pumpkin across the floor, Mason following slowly behind him. Beside her Ali stiffened so Rachel tensed with apprehension.
When the little boy finally accomplished his goal and the big pumpkin sat a couple of feet off to the side, Ali stooped down and lowered herself to his eye level.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hi."
"What do you have there?" She nodded toward the pumpkin.
"A present."
"For me?"
He nodded.
"Because you know I like pumpkins?"
He nodded again. "And because I want you to like me."
Rachel's heart did a flip-flop. Oh, Ali.
"I do like you, Joshua." She held out her arms and Mason's little boy slipped right into them. He laid his head on her shoulder and Rachel remembered how he'd clung to Ali at the barbecue, fascinated by the long streak of blonde in her dark hair.
"Will you be my teacher when I go to public school?" he asked.
Ali looked up at Mason and Rachel was struck by the impression that more was going on between them than she'd considered. Ali had told her they were attracted to one another, and she'd gone to RUSH to meet with him but the meeting never took place.
"I don't think you'll be going to the school where I teach," she told his son. "We can keep e-mailing each other, though."
"But I want to see you every day."
"And I'd like to see you every day, too. Maybe you can e-mail a picture of yourself to me and I can send one to you. Will that help?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead he sifted his little fingers through her hair and divided some of the blonde strands. Then, out of the blue he said, "I don't like God."
Ali's eyes shot up to Mason. It was barely perceptible, but he was the one who stiffened this time. Rachel was beginning to feel like an interloper.
"Do you want to tell me why you don't like God?" Ali asked, bringing her attention back to Joshua.
"Pick me up?"
"Will you please pick me up," Mason corrected.
Joshua repeated the request politely and Ali scooped an arm beneath his rump and stood. He wrapped his arms around her neck and put his head down on her shoulder again.
Mason gazed at his son for several seconds then bent down and picked up the pumpkin. "Rachel," he said, "if you'll excuse us, we'll take this out to Ali's car for her." He tucked the large pum
pkin neatly under one arm.
Ali's eyes widened. She glanced at Rachel then back at Mason who raised an expectant brow. Then, as if deciding this wasn't the time to voice an objection, she adjusted little Joshua Ingersol on her hip and started for the exit.
Rachel followed them with her eyes. Mason was definitely attracted to Ali. Initially that had surprised her, but watching him reach out and push the door open for her, it suddenly settled into place. Yes. They'd be good together. Very good. But Ali was on the run. Like a frightened rabbit.
Glancing back over at the group of men from RUSH, she was surprised to see every one of them staring right back. She found Michael and caught his eye, but he jerked his gaze away and turned aside.
Stunned, staring across the room at him, she felt her lips part in shock. What had just happened? Is that why he hadn't been in touch with her? He was dumping her? Again?
Quickly she ran through their time together in her mind. Everything had been fine. More than fine. It had been wonderful, even after they made love together. He'd been affectionate in the shower, as though he couldn't bear not to touch her. And since she was starving to be touched, she'd wallowed in every caress. When he told her about Luke, he'd been loving and supportive. And at home, when Mason held onto her hands too long, he'd rescued her, knowing she needed it, and he'd held her protectively against his side.
So what had happened? Had he gotten what he wanted and decided that was it? Was he one of those men who dropped a woman after he'd gotten her into bed . . . as though he'd made a conquest and the challenge was gone?
No. She couldn't believe he was that heartless. Not after the caring he'd shown. But she must have it wrong. He couldn't have cared, not really. Any growing bond she thought they shared had only been felt by her. Maybe she'd been some sort of diversion for him. He'd walked away from her before without explanation. Why should this time be any different?
For one angry, selfish moment she wished they weren't standing in a church hall surrounded by mourners. Then she scolded herself for being insensitive at such an awful time.
