Touch Me in the Dark

by Jacqueline Diamond

  “I’m sorry to leave,” Sharon said. “We’ve enjoyed being here.”

  “I’ve enjoyed having you. By chance, I know of another place that’s available in the neighborhood. If you’re interested, I’ll make arrangements for you.”

  “That would be perfect!” For her and for Greg both, Sharon thought.

  Jody explained that a two-bedroom apartment in the next block was scheduled to be vacated that afternoon. The rent was only slightly more than they were already paying. “The owner tells me her tenants closed escrow on a house and promised to remove the last of their things by five p.m. If you can wait until tomorrow, she’ll have the place cleaned.”

  Sharon shook her head. “No, I can’t sleep here again. I don’t mind the dirt.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Jody advised. “Sharon, listen a minute.” Her mouth pursed thoughtfully. “You know that I’ve lived through a lot in my time. What I’ve learned is not to dwell on the bad things. You have to go forward, for your boy’s sake as well as your own. Take the good that each day brings and let that be enough.”

  “I’ll try,” Sharon said. “I’ll feel better when Greg and I are settled. Please don’t take this personally. We want to stay close to you.”

  “I understand.” Jody nodded briskly. “After the anniversary, you may want to consider returning. But if not, at least you can visit often.”

  “We certainly will.” Setting aside the paper, she excused herself to go see her son.

  The sight of her son and Ian sitting side by side at the computer cheered her. Eagerly, Greg showed her a funny birthday card he and Ian had designed. After praising it to her son’s satisfaction, Sharon suggested they visit the park.

  “That’s baby stuff,” Greg sniffed. “I want to stay here. Ian’s teaching me how to be an artist.”

  A smile sprawled across the man’s face. “Your son’s enthusiasm is contagious.”

  “Nevertheless, getting out of doors will be good for him.” Sharon decided not to mention their move until later that afternoon. Otherwise, Greg would ruin his day. “We’re not used to weather like this in January, and I think we should take advantage of it.”

  As Greg started to protest, Ian cut him off. “I’ve got an idea. We can continue our art lessons and enjoy the sunshine at the same time. How about a trip to the beach?”

  Greg gave a whoop of joy. “I don’t think we’ll want to go in the water,” Sharon warned. “I’m sure it’s too cold.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Ian said. “I’ll take a couple of sketch pads. A shovel, too. If I remember right, I used to enjoy digging to see if I could reach China.”

  “That’s an old story.” Greg thought for a moment. “But maybe we could dig up a geyser.”

  “Now, there’s a good idea,” Ian said. “Let’s get moving.”

  Traffic was light heading toward the beach this time of year, and they had no trouble finding a parking place near the Newport Pier. A crisp wind whipped off the water, biting into Ian’s skin the minute he stepped from the car. He pulled on his jacket while Sharon made sure Greg did the same.

  The beach was populated solely by surfers in wet suits and fishermen on the pier. Although the sun hadn’t penetrated the low-lying fog along the shoreline, a yellow haze indicated that the skies would clear within an hour or two.

  “Wow.” Greg peered across the smooth strand in both directions. “The beach goes on forever, huh?”

  “Seems that way,” Ian agreed. “We’re on a peninsula. That’s like an island, only connected to the mainland at one end. There’s a lot of beach.”

  Greg didn’t stop to listen. As soon as Ian popped open the trunk, the boy grabbed the light shovel and raced onto the sand.

  The grownups followed more slowly, Sharon carrying towels, sunscreen and reading material. Ian toted two beach chairs, a box of supplies and a couple of sketchpads. From Greg’s absorption in digging, he gathered that the spare pad wouldn’t get much use.

  They chose a site above the waterline and dropped their gear. While Ian set up the chairs, Sharon stood with hands on hips, inhaling the salty air. The breeze whipped her hair into a russet cloud and the rumble of the ocean blotted out the rest of the world. By the time they finished establishing their outpost in the sand, Ian could hardly remember that any other place existed.

  He didn’t have to look far for a subject to sketch, with Greg underfoot. The boy threw himself into his work, and after a couple of warnings was careful not to fling sand. Ian made quick renderings of the boy’s active figure. “You still planning to dig up a geyser?”

  “No. I decided I’d rather find buried treasure,” Greg answered.

  “Good thinking.”

  When he’d sketched the boy from a dozen angles, Ian hesitated only briefly before turning his attention to Sharon. She sat angled in her chair, legs thrust out and bare feet poking the sand. From beneath a scarf, the wind sent tendrils of hair cavorting around her face. The sun wasn’t yet strong enough to require sunglasses, and from time to time when she looked up from her magazine, Ian glimpsed the bright green of her eyes.

  He feared at first that some demon would grip him, as in the past, and force his sketch into something he didn’t intend. Nothing happened. Maybe they had come under the protection of the sea god Poseidon. Or perhaps, last night, the house’s latent violence had finally been exorcized.

  Ian loved sketching Sharon. Layers of grief mingled with contentment emerged from the charcoal lines, suggested by the subtle tension in her jaw and neck. Her slim hips and legs, outlined by blue jeans, hinted at sensuality.

  As the day warmed, she removed her jacket and unfastened the top button on her blouse. Pale green fabric fell open to reveal the tops of her breasts, rising and falling gently.

  Desire swept Ian, as intense as if their first time were yet to be. He wanted it slower and more deliberate. He wanted to explore and arouse her inch by inch.

  Time passed without reckoning, until Greg announced that he was hungry. Ian shut the sketchbook.

  “I didn’t think to pack a picnic,” Sharon said, setting down the magazine. “Are the take-out places open this time of year?”

  “There’s always Charlie’s Chili.” Ian pointed across the parking lot to the restaurant. “I think that place pre-dates the arrival of the missionaries in California.”

  “Really?” Greg dropped his shovel beside the chairs.

  “Just a manner of speaking.” Impulsively, Ian invited the boy to accompany him in search of food. “You relax,” he told Sharon.

  “Thanks.” She went back to reading.

  With Greg loping beside him, peppering Ian with questions and comments, he realized he was enjoying the boy’s company. As an only child and an unmarried man, Ian had little experience with youngsters. The way Greg spotted details that adults took for granted fascinated him. A flash far out in the water that might have been a discarded beer can was, to the boy, unquestionably a dolphin. A yacht on the horizon must be sailing to Hawaii, and Greg was going to buy a boat like that by saving his allowance.

  Today, Ian wanted to be a child again and forget that past and future existed. He’d definitely save his pennies if that would buy a yacht.

  They returned with a non-dietetically-correct assortment of fried foods, which Sharon greeted with glee. “All my favorites,” she said, and plucked an onion ring from the sack.

  After they’d eaten, Greg wandered off to help several other children build a sandcastle. Sharon laid aside her magazine.

  “Thank you for bringing us,” she said. “This was exactly the right thing.”

  “For me, too.” Ian trailed one finger along her arm. “I’m not planning to let you go, even after you move.”

  “Good.” Sharon studied the ocean, dotted now with sailboats and surfers. “This is so peaceful. It’s the kind of childhood experience I imagined for Greg.”

  “Now that you’re back in California, he can have plenty of days like this,” Ian said.

  �
�I’m reminded of a photograph Karly and I found in a scrapbook,” Sharon told him. “A shot of my great-grandparents at the beach. Leila and Joseph, aren’t those pretty names? They were with your great-grandparents, Annamarie and Samuel Fanning.”

  “Annamarie and Samuel,” Ian repeated. He couldn’t recall Jody ever mentioning her parents’ given names.

  “And the children,” Sharon said. “They looked like little dolls. There were my grandmother and my great-uncle, and your grandmother Susan. Jody was there too, a baby in a carriage. I wonder if the picture was taken here.” She sighed. “In those old pictures, everyone looks so innocent and hopeful. They had no idea how difficult the twentieth century was going to turn out.”

  “Every century is difficult,” Ian said. “We have to enjoy the moments.”

  The sadness eased from her face. “Sometimes I forget that,” Sharon murmured. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “I plan to do so often,” Ian said.

  Pete visited his wife early and found her lying flat on her back, staring into space. He had higher hopes when he returned after breakfast, believing that full daylight might restore her to normalcy. Although someone had helped her dress, Bella sat in bed gazing at the wall and didn’t respond when he called her by name.

  Her room in the private hospital was circled at shoulder height by stenciled flowers, a forced cheerfulness belied by the severity of the stripped-down furnishings, the grate over the window, and by the thick door with its mesh-encased viewing glass.

  Pete sat on the edge of the bed for a while, then contacted a nurse and learned that Bella hadn’t been evaluated. Evaluated? he wondered as he trudged out with no particular destination in mind. How much could a doctor learn from a woman so unresponsive that she didn’t greet her own husband?

  Today there were better medications than when Bella’s father had gotten sick. Surely one of them would work.

  Near lunchtime, Pete returned from sitting mindlessly on a park bench. As he entered, a harassed-looking woman psychiatrist was bustling out of the ward.

  She stopped when he identified himself. Flipping open a notepad, she admitted she couldn’t make a diagnosis yet, and asked a few questions about Bella. Nothing he said inspired her to make any more notes, so Pete assumed he wasn’t able to be very helpful.

  “We’ll keep her under observation until we have a clearer idea of what’s going on,” the doctor said.

  “I hope that won’t take too long,” he said.

  “I hope not, either.”

  A nurse admitted Pete to the locked room, and he sat beside his wife again, wondering how she could have changed so completely in such a short time. His hand stroked hers on the bed. Over the years, blue veins and brown spots had overlaid the supple skin, but Pete still visualized the smooth young hand he had clasped when they were courting. Old age seemed like a trick someone had played on them.

  Bella stirred shortly after two o’clock. Her eyes, dimmer than usual without the customary makeup, blinked a few times and then, to his relief, a look of alertness returned.

  She didn’t ask where she was or what had happened. She spoke distinctly, in a normal tone. “Last night things weren’t what they seemed. It’s important that you understand.”

  He waited, but she said nothing more. After a while, Bella’s eyelids drifted shut, and Pete knew her mind had wandered away.

  He hoped she’d regain awareness soon. Then she could tell him what had really happened last night and exactly what he needed to understand.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sense of safety that had grown within Sharon at the beach lasted even after they returned to the Fanning house. She found additional reassurance in a message on her machine explaining Karly’s absence, which wasn’t so mysterious after all.

  “I thought you might get worried, so I’m calling to say that we’re in Redondo Beach,” Karly’s voice bounced at her. In the background, Sharon could hear Lisa gurgling. “Frank and I are having kind of a second honeymoon. I don’t know where we’ll stay tonight. Maybe Santa Monica or Malibu. We’ll be back Sunday night. Hope you’re having a good weekend!”

  Sharon deleted the message, glad that Karly and Frank had resolved whatever had been troubling them. Since Jody had found another apartment in the next block, the timing of her sister’s trip no longer mattered.

  While Greg was downstairs eating a snack, Sharon dragged the suitcases out of the closet. Only a week ago, she’d been glad to unpack at last, and now she was leaving.

  So many clothes to be folded. So many toiletry items to tuck into plastic bags. Sharon’s fingers fumbled through the tedious work. Even the plastic zipper locks seemed to conspire against her, and every now and then, a nasty glimmer of memory brought back last night’s assault in this same room. She would be glad to leave.

  After half an hour, she decided to take a break and went downstairs. In the living room, the landlady was listening raptly as Greg described the huge hole he’d dug in the sand. In youthful hyperbole, it grew to such staggering dimensions that the entire town of Newport Beach might have collapsed and disappeared inside.

  Sharon was grateful when Ian popped in a moment later and lured her son away to play Uno. She hadn’t wanted to broach the question on her mind with Greg present.

  “You’re wondering if the apartment’s vacant,” Jody volunteered as soon as the pair was out of earshot. “I called my friend and she said the tenants haven’t returned to pick up their furniture. Her best guess is that sometime after dinner.”

  Sharon sighed. The late afternoon sunshine was already dying, and an ache deep in her muscles reminded her that she hadn’t slept much last night. She wanted to be out of the house and into their new home without delay. “I’ll finish packing and we’ll go as soon as we get the word.”

  Jody nodded. “Whatever you think best. We’re going to miss you. You’re welcome to come back later, you know, as long as there’s a vacancy.”

  “Thanks.” Sharon wanted to express how much Jody’s kindness meant, but the woman’s brisk manner discouraged sentimentality. Instead, she said, “If you like Chinese food, I’m providing dinner.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me.”

  “I’ll run out now if you’d like.” Taking action, even something as simple as running an errand, felt good.

  “Don’t forget the sweet and sour pork,” Jody said.

  In the early dusk as Sharon drove, the sidewalks rumbled with shiny new skates and scooters. From back yards drifted the scent of grilling charcoal.

  The restaurant she’d noticed a few blocks away filled her order quickly, and she headed home with spicy aromas percolating through her senses. She was carrying the sacks toward the kitchen when Greg raced down from upstairs.

  “Why are you packing?” he demanded. “You didn’t tell me we were going back to Buffalo!”

  Sharon reproached herself for not telling him sooner. She’d been avoiding the subject all day because it brought back the horror of last night’s attack, but she should have realized he might find out accidentally. “We’re not. We’re only moving a block away. You can still visit Jody.”

  “No!” Tears streaked the boy’s angry face. “I’m not leaving! We live here now!”

  “We have to go.” Sharon wished she could find a way to make him understand without frightening him. “Greg—there’s something strange about this house. Something that could hurt us.”

  “How?” he demanded.

  I wish I knew. “Last night Mrs. Gaskell got very sick.”

  “Like you did last weekend?” Greg said.

  “Not exactly.” Sharon set the table as she talked. “You know I’ve never believed in ghosts, but last night, the Gaskells and Ian and I saw something very strange. Mrs. Gaskell believed it was telling her to hurt me.”

  “Well, there aren’t any ghosts,” he said. “And she didn’t hurt you, did she?”

  “She tried,” Sharon said.

  He stared at her in confusion
. “Is she still here?”

  “No, she’s in the hospital.”

  “Then I’m not leaving. And you can’t make me go!” He turned and ran out.

  Sharon followed him, stopping when Jody came out of her apartment. “I couldn’t help overhearing,” the older woman said. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “All right. Thank you,” Sharon said reluctantly. “Please assure him that he can see you as much as he wants.” She didn’t like leaving the matter in Jody’s hands, but she knew from experience that when Greg got this upset, he resisted anything his mother might say. He was much more likely to listen to a friend.

  “Don’t worry,” Jody said. “He and I understand each other.”

  Sharon barely noticed what she was doing as she finished setting their places for dinner. She stuck a fork instead of a spoon into the rice and dropped the fortune cookies on the floor, smashing one into fragments. A few minutes later, Jody and Greg came down. The boy wore a tight, determined look, but he wasn’t crying.

  “We’ve come to an agreement,” Jody said. “I think he understands now.”

  “Greg?” Sharon asked.

  “I’m okay, Mom,” he said. “Honest.” He didn’t look happy, but Sharon supposed that was too much to expect.

  Even after Ian joined them, no one felt like conversing. Sharon tried to concentrate on her aromatic shrimp, while Jody needed no encouragement in enjoying her pork. Greg ate a few mouthfuls of rice and poked glumly at his egg rolls. Ian wore a preoccupied air, although he downed a respectable portion of beef with broccoli.

  After dinner, Sharon finished packing Greg’s possessions. Her son sat on his couch, glaring. “If Dad were here, he wouldn’t make us move,” he said as she tucked books into a duffel bag.

  “If Dad were alive, we wouldn’t have come to Fullerton in the first place,” Sharon pointed out. “Greg, I don’t like this myself. Grownups don’t always get what we want, either.”

  “Yes, you do,” he protested. “Oh, never mind.” He wandered into the next room and turned on the TV. Sharon continued packing and wondered exactly what Jody had said to him. At least he was no longer openly rebelling.