Lure of Song and Magic

by Patricia Rice

  “Overstimulation,” she said vaguely. “I need to clear my head.”

  “Bullshit,” Oz said bluntly. “You’re running away. I don’t have time to put a security guard on your tail.”

  She shot him a turquoise glare. “I promised to read on Monday, and I will be there. You don’t need to lock me up. I’ve had quite enough of that kind of security before, and I won’t suffer it again.”

  “Figurative running away, then.” He bit fiercely into his bagel so he couldn’t say more.

  She sipped her tea and studied the breakfast selection. Definitely retreating. This was Zen Pippa, no confrontation.

  Yesterday had disturbed her as much as it had him.

  “I’ll take you home,” he agreed, “but you need to get used to the stares. You’re an attractive woman. People stare.”

  She offered a wry smile, chose the Asiago cheese bagel, and nibbled the edge.

  Damn, he hated when she did that. He wanted her to be the Pippa singing her way up the mountain—or roaring her displeasure, which she had yet to do.

  “We’re not adolescents any longer. You cannot spend your days surfing,” she said gently. “I can only follow my bliss within limited conditions. I’ve accepted that. You must too.”

  She was right, and he hated that too. “I like my work as much as surfing,” he muttered.

  “So do I. Writing suits me better than performing. You’ve showed me I don’t have to give up music entirely. I simply need to keep it to myself. I’ll study on how I can do that more often, without acoustic walls around me.”

  There it was again, that note of farewell. Oz scowled at her. “I still don’t want to let you out of my sight.”

  She offered an enigmatic smile and chewed her bagel, apparently savoring the flavor.

  “You can’t get bagels like that in the hills.” He had to make her see that they could share their different lives. He didn’t want to give her up.

  She nodded agreement but said nothing.

  He was Oz. He never took no for an answer. He wouldn’t let her run back into hiding, not now, not when he’d finally found a woman he actually wanted in his life.

  Even if she was Syrene and a royal pain in the ass. If anyone knew how to take care of neurotic performers, it was him. She needed him.

  As much as he needed her. He ripped off more bagel and kept silent.

  ***

  Pippa sighed in relief and regret after Oz finally sped away in his tiny sports car. He was too much man and too overwhelming, and she definitely needed space to clear her head. His RV loomed large in the parking lot, promising he would be back, but she wouldn’t worry about that.

  Gloria looked up with surprise and concern when Pippa walked in and immediately started examining the contents of her storage cabinets.

  “We need to leave California,” Pippa said, not waiting for questions. “Tomorrow is a trap, and we need an exit route.”

  “Yesterday did not go well?” Gloria asked, pushing up from the couch with difficulty.

  “Syrene is still recognizable. I don’t know why the Librarian wants the world to know that Syrene and Philippa James are the same person, but that’s what will happen. Even if we rescue Donal, he’ll be in danger as long as I’m around. It’s best to make a clean break.”

  “But Oz…” Gloria looked at her with sadness.

  “Oz will survive. I hope he gets his son back. I don’t know what I’ll do if the reading doesn’t work. I just know if it does, and we find Donal, I have to leave. Conan proved that California isn’t safe for Malcolms. I won’t lose you again.”

  “But the town… I thought you and Oz had an agreement to help El Padre.” Gloria opened the closet containing the suitcases.

  “I’ll hope he honors it anyway. He has to understand what I’m doing. I’ll leave him a note. Eventually, I’ll have to sell this property. He has the film rights to my books. Maybe the show will be a great success, and Oz will know people who will want to live here. I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”

  Pippa fought the cry in her voice, but she feared her mother heard it. She didn’t want to leave her cozy cottage. It was the first real home she’d ever known. She didn’t want to leave town. She didn’t want any of this to happen. But she couldn’t blame Oz for making it happen. She wanted to find his son as much as he did. And she longed with all her heart to be there when it happened, to hold him in joy or sorrow, but she was a walking target for disaster.

  “If you’re doing this for me, don’t,” Gloria said carefully. “I don’t think anyone sees me as dangerous anymore, but I know how to hide. You shouldn’t have to give up your home.”

  “I shouldn’t, but I have to, for me, for you, for Donal. Even strangers know me in L.A. But I bet I could move to Omaha and be virtually invisible because no one would believe Syrene lives in Nebraska. I could live almost normally anywhere else.” She wanted that. She wasn’t running away. She was running toward a goal, she told herself.

  Gloria nodded and began to fill the suitcases with the treasures Pippa pulled from her cabinets, the ones she couldn’t bear to part with. She may have disliked what she became, but she’d enjoyed working with music professionals and had CDs signed by her backup band, friends, and people she’d toured with. Artists had given her autographed originals of the illustrations in her books. She knew what was really precious.

  “Do you have a car, dear?” Gloria asked warily.

  “I can rent one.” Pippa looked up from sorting through the next cabinet. “I need Conan to make new identities for us. Do you think he will without telling his brother?”

  “I cannot imagine it, but I suppose it can’t hurt to ask.”

  “I’ll ask him to make one just for you. With a driver’s license. That won’t seem odd to him. And then we’ll rent the car under your new name.” Pippa dived back into the cabinet, letting adrenaline take over so she didn’t have to think about everything she was giving up, the life she had so carefully built, the one so eminently suited to her handicaps.

  She could do it again. She simply didn’t know if she had the heart for it.

  She could very well be leaving her heart here. With Oz. It wasn’t doing her any good anyway.

  ***

  Sitting in the dark cave of his front room, Conan hung up the phone and stared at the programming code scrolling across his monitor.

  Gloria Malcolm wanted new ID. Good thinking, given the drug dealers in her past, but he had to wonder about the timing. Pippa’s performance was tomorrow. Was she preparing to make a break afterward?

  He would, if he had any Malcolm talent. California wasn’t safe. The evidence of that was scrolling across his screen right now.

  Oz would hate it.

  Conan stared at the code and then back to the photo of a towheaded toddler taped to the corner of the big screen monitor. He hadn’t paid much attention to the kid when he’d been around. Munchkins lacked higher communication skills, so Conan couldn’t talk to his nephew. But he’d watched the kid out of curiosity on the occasions they’d crossed paths.

  Donal had been a destructive tornado with an infinite capacity for discombobulating every mechanical item that caught his attention. Oz had laughingly given him a toy toolbox for Christmas after his son had unerringly located Oz’s prized pocket knife to jimmy open the television remote. Donal had immediately used his toy hammer to smash open the toy computer to see how it made sounds. The kid wasn’t dumb.

  What if…?

  Conan shook his head. There was no arguing that the Oswin/Ives branch of the family had some power brokers and geniuses, but that was brains, not woo-woo abilities. If he wanted to find a powerful Malcolm—he’d go after the influential side of the family before he’d go after singers.

  Which is what someone had done—gone after Donal.

/>   If even his logic fell down that foolish path of wanting to believe Donal was special, Conan would bet the women really believed the kid had been kidnapped because he was some magical Malcolm genius. In which case, they might believe they were protecting him by leaving. Oz wasn’t going to like that either.

  The question was—did he tell Oz because his brother ought to be warned? Or did he keep his mouth shut because he thought the women were doing the right thing?

  He supposed it depended on what happened tomorrow. He couldn’t bring in the FBI on the basis of a few simple text messages and a woman’s hysteria. The program code he was reading from the website was merely a targeted virus that the police wouldn’t take seriously.

  It was up to him and his team to keep Pippa safe and scoop Donal out of a crowd of youngsters and their mamas. He was a geek, not Special Ops. But this was California. He could find what he needed with the punch of a few buttons. It was just knowing what he needed that was the challenge.

  Thinking like a kidnapper had never been one of his talents.

  Chapter 32

  Pippa woke up Monday morning to a pillow still damp from crying herself to sleep. In irritation at her weakness, she punched the feathers, checked the time, and forced her feet to find the floor.

  She hated sleeping alone. One of the best parts of marriage had been having Robbie there to comfort her when she woke up with stress-related panic attacks. Until the nights when Robbie hadn’t been there and her life had fallen apart.

  She missed having Oz’s broad back in the bed beside her, providing the physical security she’d never had and the sexual tension that she relished. She missed his husky murmurs and his arm reaching to drag her back, telling her without words that he needed her.

  In a few short weeks, she had grown far too dependent on an arrogant man who wanted to rule her life.

  Even she knew that argument was full of holes. So she stood in the shower and soaked her head.

  Conan had sent someone with a rental car and Gloria’s ID last night. The man was uncanny. Pippa fretted that he’d tell his brother, but so far, a furious Oz hadn’t shown up on their doorstep. Maybe Conan could calm him down and explain once they were gone.

  If she thought Oz really needed her, this would be harder to do. But once he had Donal back, he’d return to his old self, and he’d be fine. He needed to get back in sync with his usual business. Putting up with her idiosyncrasies would only hold him back.

  She wasn’t entirely certain what she would do if they didn’t find Donal. It would be cruel to desert a grieving father, but maybe Oz would prefer that any reminder of his failure went away. She simply didn’t know what was right in that case.

  Maybe it would be healthier if he accepted that Donal was gone and move on. She just didn’t think Oz knew the meaning of give up. And she couldn’t be Syrene for him. She feared that’s what he would want—for her to go on singing, in his hope that somehow Syrene could find Donal. She wasn’t that scared teenager any more. She couldn’t go back to what she hadn’t wanted to be in the first place. She liked who she was now. Mostly.

  She finished packing her suitcase with last-minute items and then studied herself in the mirror. She was older and wiser than her teenage self, but her cheekbones and eyes couldn’t be disguised. She dragged on Oz’s ball cap, set her rose-colored glasses on her nose, left off lipstick, and made herself a little bit invisible. But she couldn’t wear the disguise on stage while reading for the cameras.

  With a sigh, she took off the cap and glasses and shoved them into her overlarge shoulder bag, added her stuffed seal to her suitcase, and zipped it up. She glanced around at the sunny bedroom she’d decorated in crisp whites and soft blue-greens, drew her fingers wistfully over the smiling flowers she’d painted on the wall by her mirror, and said her farewells.

  She’d lived here longer than she’d lived anywhere. She knew how to move forward.

  Gloria was garbed in her usual long peasant skirt that concealed her twisted hip. Her eyes looked shadowed as she glanced up at Pippa’s entrance. “Good morning, dear. Do you have someone who can empty the refrigerator if we don’t return?”

  “I’ll call Lizzy. She has a key. Park will help you with the bags after Oz and I leave. You’ll like him. He’s a lovely man, with tons of grandsons who can pick him up in Bakersfield.”

  “I’d rather go with you now.” Gloria still wasn’t completely happy with their plan.

  “I’ll be more comfortable doing what I have to do if I know you’re safely in the car waiting for me. I really don’t expect an audience of mothers and kids to be a problem. It’s not a concert, after all. I’m just worried about what happens if Oz grabs Donal and runs. Maybe I can have someone send us a video of the show later so you can see it.”

  “Maybe we can watch it on the TV news,” Gloria said dryly. “Producer kidnaps his own child. Syrene comes back to life and disappears again.”

  The potential for disaster was enormous, but she refused to worry. “I kind of like that headline.” Pippa rummaged through the fruit, looking for some they could take with them in the car. “I’m liking the idea of a road trip too. I haven’t done this in a long time.”

  “Do you remember how to drive?” Gloria sliced an orange with a sharp clank of her knife against the counter.

  “Like riding a bike. I did that just fine too. How good are you at navigating?” Pippa was thrilled to see that Gloria was perking up enough to argue with her.

  “I’ll need more than your old atlas,” her mother warned.

  “We can pick up maps at welcome centers. It will be fun, honest. Start thinking about where you’d like to live next.”

  Pippa was still telling herself that a few hours later when she strode up the walk to meet Oz.

  ***

  Oz watched Pippa hurry up to the parking lot, swinging a huge shoulder bag, as soon as his car pulled in. He had to hurriedly finish his phone call over last-minute preparations so he could climb out and greet her. She must have been waiting for him.

  She looked spectacular in a tie-dyed twist skirt that hit right below her knees and showed off her ankles in high-heeled wedge sandals. The strappy peach camisole revealed as much as it concealed, forcing him to check out the goods before giving her a happy smile. He hoped the bare skin was for him.

  He caught her waist and kissed her thoroughly before she could say a word. To his relief, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back as if she hadn’t seen him in eons. He loved her enthusiasm and enjoyed the blush of color on her cheeks when he finally set her down. He liked even better that she didn’t shove away but lingered in his arms to lean against him. Maybe she’d recovered from Saturday’s debacle.

  “I missed you,” he said in a scolding tone. “You better have had as bad a night as I did.”

  “Worse,” she admitted with a shrug, finally pushing back. “We’ll survive. Is your crew on the way? No glitches yet?”

  He opened the BMW’s passenger door for her. “Moving like clockwork. I followed the set truck until the exit up here. The school will keep the entire stage area cordoned off, so we can move about freely. Costume and makeup will be there after lunch. It’s a go.”

  She glanced in the back. “No child seat?”

  The vise around Oz’s heart tightened, but he tried to keep it light. “In the trunk. Are you sure your mother doesn’t want to go with us? There’s room.”

  “She’s afraid her limp will hamper us. I told her you’d send a video. She’s manning the phone, just in case.” She produced her cell phone. “I can call and tell her I’m fine.”

  He was oddly reluctant to close the door and take his seat. He didn’t want to involve Pippa in this. She appeared completely unconcerned, but he knew better. She’d learned to maintain calm in the face of the storm. That didn’t mean a storm wasn’t raging ins
ide her. He knew so much more than when he’d brashly walked up to the day care and told her he wanted her on his show. She was shutting out the world right now, and that included him.

  He wanted the real Pippa back, but Donal came first. If she needed to be Zen Pippa to do this, he could take it.

  “The minute you feel uneasy, I want you to walk off the stage,” he ordered, starting the engine. “Conan is meeting us there. He’ll have someone backstage who can hustle you out.”

  She waved at an elderly Asian dude stepping out of an old Corolla. The man bowed back. The martial arts instructor, Oz remembered. Gloria wouldn’t be good at kickboxing, but maybe she could take up karate.

  Pippa was as good at organizing and manipulating as he was, just more subtle. She’d found a way to keep her mother occupied.

  “I don’t think there will be any problem with the performance,” she said serenely, folding her legs in the seat and adopting a yoga pose. “What’s with the beach clothes?”

  Oz glanced down at his Tommy Bahama shirt and jeans, and it was his turn to redden. “Donal saw me mostly on weekends when I was wearing casual clothes.”

  He didn’t explain further, but Pippa nodded, understanding that he hoped the clothes would help Donal recognize him.

  “You have the hard part, looking for Donal,” she agreed. “I’ll have the lights in my eyes and won’t be too helpful there.”

  There were too damned many ways for this to go wrong.

  “I’m hoping the song is some kind of signal to the Librarian, maybe to let the kid loose. But he’ll be confused. I hate this.” Oz pounded the wheel.

  “It’s just as likely the song will be a signal to start a riot or a fire,” she said with a trace of humor. “We’ll have to hope my mother is right and that it’s a siren song for kids. We really can’t predict the results. We simply go in there and stay alert. Once I start reading, I think I can keep the crowd quiet. Maybe it will take time for them to recover before whatever happens, happens.”