Now You See Him

by Stella Cameron

  The writer took major trips for his work, but if he did what he’d promised, he’d be buying a place before long and making Toussaint his permanent home. Once they married, Madge would probably want to continue working…

  “Cyrus,” Paul said quietly. “Perhaps I should call you Father.”

  “Cyrus is fine. I don’t like formality.”

  “Thank you. Cyrus, then. I have something big on my mind. I need help deciding what to do. Would you let me talk to you, then give any advice you can?”

  Cyrus thought about it. This was the last thing he’d expected from the man. “Yes, of course,” he said, and picked up the stole he kept on a table. “How long is it since your last—”

  “No,” Paul said. “I’m asking for advice, not reconciliation. I’m in a tight spot and I like you. I think you’ll say what you think and help me make a decision.”

  He paused, but Cyrus could tell the man had more to say.

  Paul took a deep breath. “It’s been years since my last reconciliation, Cyrus. Why not do it now?”

  Cyrus sat down on the couch. He made an open gesture and said, “I’m glad to be the one you came to.”

  Paul’s discomfort showed in the edgy movements he made. “I’d like to have one special woman in my life.”

  Breath caught in Cyrus’s throat. He nodded and said, “Yes, yes, of course you would. Take your time. Think your way through what you want to say.” He wondered what Madge would think of Paul approaching her boss as if he were her father. Best not to dwell on any of that.

  Paul put his glass on a table. “Sometimes you know you’re wrong but you don’t want to stop. I’m involved with two women. They don’t know about each other. Anyway, I need to break it off with one of them without hurting her feelings but I don’t know how to do it.”

  8

  The door to the sitting room stood open. Madge listened and, when she didn’t hear voices, tapped lightly.

  She got no response and pushed the door open wider. Cyrus stretched out on the couch with his head resting on one arm. He looked asleep but she tiptoed closer to make sure.

  Seeing him vulnerable, his features relaxed, held Madge exactly where she was. An intimate moment, warm, soft. She watched his face. Cyrus helpless—in a way—because he couldn’t use that strong, controlled mind of his to make sure she only saw what he wanted her to see.

  Her eyes stung. She was an intruder taking advantage of him. More than anything in the world, Madge wished she had a right to touch Cyrus. She flushed. Never, she would never know how it felt to touch his mouth with hers.

  With her arms crossed tightly, Madge turned away.

  Staying with him, working in this house with him, gave her the deepest pleasure. They were friends, best friends who trusted each other, but she should go.

  She blinked back tears.

  “Madge?”

  The sound of Cyrus’s voice gave her a little jolt. “Yes. I’m sorry I disturbed you.” Hoping her emotions didn’t show, she turned around. “Ellie and Joe are in the two small rooms. Lily changed the sheets in both of them yesterday. The dog’s got a big blanket on the floor. Cyrus, Ellie is covered with scratches and scrapes.”

  He swung his feet to the floor and leaned forward, head in hands. Two rakes at his hair with his fingers and he looked up at her. “They’ve got to catch this guy. Ellie won’t have any peace till they do. None of us will.”

  Madge nodded. “It’s good she has all of us.”

  “You know Spike must have figured out Joe would bring her here.”

  “He didn’t have to figure it out, he knew. Where else would someone in trouble go but to you?”

  He paused a moment too long before responding. “Thank you for saying that.”

  Madge remembered Paul. “Where did Paul go?”

  To her amazement this was Cyrus’s turn to show color in his tanned face. “I didn’t know how long you’d be,” he said, “so I told him not to wait. I’ll drive you to Rosebank myself.”

  9

  The whole point of buying time was to give her a chance, with Joe’s help, to decide how much she needed to tell Gautreaux or Spike about her past. Or how little she could get away with telling them.

  With Joe in the room facing this one, apparently having forgotten all about her request, Ellie couldn’t think what to do next.

  Make your own decisions. You always have.

  Shock had made her talk to Joe about it in the first place. No way did she want him involved.

  Yes, she did, and there was the rub. If Joe knew everything he would withdraw from her. Don’t tell him about that, the totally bizarre stuff, you can avoid it and pray the police don’t dig it up.

  She lay in a single bed wearing panties and an oversize white shirt, and she hurt from the damage Charles Penn had inflicted.

  A second car’s engine turned over beneath the window. She slipped from bed and peeked out. The vehicle that had left about half an hour earlier must have been Paul’s. This time Cyrus’s landboat pulled out onto Bonanza Alley. He would be taking Madge home.

  Daisy snored.

  Ellie stepped around her and went into the hallway—and confronted Joe.

  “We haven’t had that talk,” he said.

  Panic took hold of Ellie. “I don’t want to dump on you. I can deal with this myself.”

  “Uh-uh,” he said. “We didn’t go through hoops to get you away from Pappy’s just to forget it. Don’t try backin’ out now, Ellie. Something’s scarin’ you and I’m not talkin’ about Penn.”

  He spoke sharply enough to sting Ellie. “You’re right,” she said, feeling foolish. “I’ll keep it short, though.”

  “Your room or mine, ma’am?” he said, and grinned in the shadowy light.

  Ellie smiled back and closed her door softly. “Daisy’s exhausted. She’s asleep. So I guess it’s your room.”

  Joe, looking too good in a tight white T-shirt and striped boxer shorts, pointed to his open door. “After you.”

  She went in and sat on the floor a little way distant from the bed.

  Joe closed the door. “Up with you,” he said. “Into the bed. I’ll be the one to sit on the floor.”

  “Nope. You lie on the bed. I’m comfortable where I am.” And she was sure she’d feel strange lying there. “No more bossing me around. You’re really getting into that.”

  She hadn’t intended to be amusing but let him grin, anyway.

  “You’re sure you won’t take the bed?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  He stripped off a blue chenille bedspread and draped it around her shoulders, then lay down on top of the remaining jumble of sheets.

  Joe reclining on a bed, his chin supported by a hand, didn’t do much for a woman’s concentration.

  “You’ll have to start,” he said.

  “Madge will make sure someone gets over to take care of Zipper first thing in the morning.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s a good thing.”

  “My poor little cat will be all mixed up.”

  “It’ll probably be time for the services of Wazoo, animal shrink extraordinaire.” Joe appeared serious but Ellie doubted he was.

  “Right,” she said, almost under her breath. She tugged the tails of the white shirt over her crossed feet. That left her knees flapping, but she’d look silly if she made a thing of covering up in the bedspread. The room was warm.

  She glanced up to find Joe slowly studying her. He almost appeared to be thinking of nothing in particular, but not quite. The look in his eyes while he looked at her legs was too intent. His attention climbed, part by part, over her and came to rest on her breasts. Ellie wanted to cross her arms, but then he’d know she was embarrassed by his attention.

  He drew in a slow breath through his nose. His face tensed and he looked into her eyes.

  Ellie’s stomach flipped. She knew a potent sexual response when she saw it. She would pretend she hadn’t noticed a thing—or felt a thing. The open smile she gave Joe did
n’t ease the tightening between her legs, or deep inside. It didn’t stop her nipples from hardening.

  “I don’t have a conventional past,” she told him. Her voice sounded breathy and strange to her. “I made a couple of really stupid moves. I didn’t think they were stupid at the time because I was trying to make bad situations better.”

  Joe didn’t take his eyes from hers. “What kind of mistakes?”

  “Running away. I was ten the first time, then fifteen.”

  “Why did you run away?”

  She bowed her head. “All I want is to figure out what will happen if the police get serious about poking around.”

  “They didn’t do it after the Mardi Gras thing?”

  “I was a witness on a balcony then. I gave one person’s name and address as a personal contact. They checked it out and apparently didn’t see any need to spend more time on me.”

  Joe sat up. “Excuse me, please. Madge picked out the sleepin’ duds and this is so tight it’s cutting off my circulation.” He stripped the T-shirt over his head and threw it to the bottom of the bed before resuming his position. “What makes you think they’ll do a more exhaustive background check this time?”

  Not staring at Joe’s wide, tanned, muscular chest took willpower. Ellie could be happy just looking at him for a long time. Slim hips, long, strong legs. A torso and arms where every muscle was defined and appeared permanently flexed. He had very white teeth and the kind of face she might see in her dreams even if she’d never met him.

  “Ellie,” he said gently. “Help me out here.”

  “This time Charles Penn attacked me. He intended to kill me and there’s no reason to believe he won’t try again. Since I couldn’t identify him before, they don’t have an obvious motive for him to come after me now. They’re going to go looking for any motive they can find. I’m pretty scared about that idea and I have someone who doesn’t deserve to be pulled into my mess. He only tried to do his best for me and this could hurt him.”

  Joe’s dark blue eyes nailed her. “Who are you talking about?” He sounded tense.

  She didn’t want to tell him the truth. “Someone who was good to me when I was a kid. He tried to help me out. For years he was the only one who loved me. He would rock me and wipe away the tears and he wanted, more than anything else, to find a safe place and get us both out of there.”

  “Why would it hurt him if that came out?” Joe still sounded uptight.

  She’d asked his help. Leaving out every single thing that was important would be pointless. “My brother made a good and useful life for himself. An impressive life. His reputation could take a hit if he got connected to me now. Especially if…I won’t do that to him.”

  “You ran away when you were ten,” Joe said. “From your parents’ home?”

  She shook her head. There had never been a reason to put all this into words before. “An uncle and aunt’s place. They took us in when my dad left us and my mom got sick. We thought mom would get better and we’d be together again. It wouldn’t have mattered where as long as we had each other. I prayed for that every night and in any quiet times I had.”

  Please God, bring my mom back to us. We’ll be really good and take care of her. She’s not strong, but we can manage. Please God, let us get out of here. Day after day that had been her mantra. And her brother, Byron, had tried to shield her from Uncle Cal and Aunt Dot, and the four cousins who treated them like servants.

  After she ran away Ellie decided to change her name, to help save her from being tracked down. She took Byron’s first name as her last name and become Ellie rather than Mellie. That had been a big mistake but, after all, ten-year-olds didn’t tend to think far ahead when they were fighting to get a life.

  “I’m going to ask you one or two questions you may find offensive,” Joe said, shifting so that the meager light from his bedside lamp shone on his hair, and on the hair on his chest. Ellie followed that hair until it disappeared in a thin line beneath the waist of his shorts.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll take it you don’t mind. Have you ever been arrested?”

  “No!”

  “Have you ever kept company with people who were in trouble with the law?”

  Her heart beat faster. She couldn’t be dishonest with Joe. “I probably have. The son of the people in one foster home dealt drugs, I think. He was taken away one night. But I was moved to another place immediately so I don’t know any more than that.”

  Joe’s open expression closed down. He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned toward Ellie.

  Coldness shuttered everything in his face.

  “I was lucky to be taken into foster care,” she said hurriedly. She swallowed and wished Joe would stop cracking his knuckles. “Really, I was. I had lots of luck. When I first ran away I was a ten-year-old from the sticks and I didn’t stop to think why a man would pick me up at a truck stop in the first place. He was headed south and seemed nice, fatherly, so I thought. When we got to a weigh station, he pulled off and told me to get into the sleeping part, the cab or whatever it’s called. I knew he was trying to hide me and I felt frightened because I couldn’t figure out why.”

  “Oh, my God,” Joe said. “Tell me what you can.”

  “Like I told you, I was lucky. He had to get out of the truck, so I got down and jumped out, too. I hid and saw the man go back to the truck. I don’t know if he knew I was gone but he drove out of there.”

  Joe left the bed and knelt on the floor. He took hold of her hands. “None of that was your fault. You were the victim.”

  “Yes.” She squeezed his fingers. Her stomach cinched tight. “I didn’t know where I was going. But I remembered a small town back by the last entrance onto the freeway and started walking. Almost the first thing I saw when I got there was a bus station. I slipped on a bus with a family. No one noticed me. Then I got off in Burbank. It was night. I just walked till I found a street where there were people on the sidewalk. Mostly women and teenagers.”

  Joe held her fingers so tightly, they hurt, but she didn’t want him to let go.

  “I asked a girl if I could wait with her until I figured out what to do. She looked nicer than the rest—cleaner. She hit me, then a group of them beat me. There were sirens, but I couldn’t think about much. The police took me to some sort of agency. It was foster homes after that.”

  “Ellie,” Joe said quietly, and pulled her closer to rest her head on his shoulder. “Have you been more or less on your own since then?”

  “Yes. Until I came to Toussaint and found people I want to stay around forever.”

  She held on to his wrist and turned her face into his neck.

  “We all know kids fall out of the system. But the reality—or what you’ve experienced of it—sickens me. I’m glad you found your way to Toussaint.”

  He meant it, Ellie could hear that he did. “I ran away again when I was fifteen. The people I was with then were okay, but they didn’t treat me like a member of the family and it was awful at school, so I took off. I thought I was smart enough to deal with it then.”

  “But you weren’t.” Joe’s tone turned flat.

  “I had a little bit of money I’d saved and I thought I’d go north. I ended up in San Francisco, living on the street. It was hopeless. My money went fast. I scrounged from garbage cans outside restaurants. Sometimes someone would give me a hot dog or a pretzel. Then a Dumpster diver asked if I wanted to be his partner. He had a bum leg and used crutches—said it was getting hard to work.”

  Joe gave up trying to restrain himself and took Ellie into his arms. He hugged her, smoothed her back, kissed her brow. And he felt her tighten up, then, slowly, relax against him.

  “Ellie,” he said. “This must be hard—talking about it all. Try to stay with me till we figure out what you do and don’t say.”

  She put her arms around his body and dug her fingertips into his flesh. “That man seemed kind. He shared any food I got with me. Then he turned on me one night and hit
me with a crutch. I’d found a coat and you know how cold San Francisco can get sometimes. When he saw me put it on he went mad. It wasn’t mine to take, he said, not unless he said so.”

  Joe rested his chin on top of Ellie’s head. She’d lived through it all, that’s what he could hardly believe. His feelings for her had been growing for a long time, but they had taken a forward leap in recent weeks. He wanted Ellie.

  “I met Mrs. Clark that night. We were out back of some warehouses and there wasn’t a soul around. I never knew why she was driving in a place like that the way she was, but I heard her car stop and the door slam. She said if Willy hit me once more she’d shoot him. I passed out then.”

  “And woke up?”

  “In a new green Mercedes. Mrs. Clark…Alice Clark drove me to her house and took me in.”

  Joe kept quiet, gave her some space to carry on when she was ready.

  “It wasn’t foster care. She just kept me.”

  What did he hear in her voice? Not the kind of gratitude he’d expect if everything had been rosy.

  “Did she have a husband?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He cleared his throat. The mention of a Mrs. Clark eased his mind. Ellie was not lying to him. “Did she have kids of her own?” He didn’t want to sound as if he was prying, but what choice did he have?

  Ellie took far too long to say, “One.”

  She wanted his help in making a decision. He hadn’t figured out why, but he would lay odds that Alice Clark was a big part of the problem. “Ellie, what—”

  “A son. He didn’t live with her. Not exactly.”

  “Okay. So what makes you think there’s an issue with being honest about all of it?”

  Abruptly, Ellie shot to her feet and backed away. “Do you think Gautreaux will accept how I lived with Mrs. Clark and then went away to school when I was eighteen? I didn’t hear from her after that.”

  Joe stood up. Scratches looked livid against Ellie’s too pale skin. He picked up the bedspread and wrapped it around her, then cupped her cheek and jaw.

  “That was it,” she said, and shuddered. “There isn’t anything else to say.”