by V. E. Lemp
He eyed her. “What do you mean by that?”
“Do I have to spell it out? I'm not some great beauty.”
“Do I know this? I wasn’t aware.”
“Come on, Alex, be real. You’re gorgeous—yes, you are, you know you are—and I'm not.”
Alex finished off his wine and set the glass down on the counter. “You’re biased.”
“I know what I look like—not bad, but not fantastic either. It’s okay. Doesn’t bother me much.”
“Biased, and wrong.” Alex strolled over to her. “Where’s your eye, Karen? I’m no artist, but I can appreciate beautiful things. Like this angle here.” He traced the line of her neck down to her collarbone. “And this line.” His hand slid down her rib cage to her waist. “And this curve.” He raised his hand to her mouth. “All beautiful, if you can see them clearly.”
Her lips curled into a smile under his fingers.
“You’re a dangerous man, Alex Wythe.”
“Possibly,” he said, in a more serious tone than she expected. He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. “But I’ll always try to protect you, Karen. If I can’t promise you anything else, I promise you that.” He stepped back, still holding on to her shoulders, and looked her over. “I think green would suit you. Like that green you wore to your senior show. Or amber, perhaps.”
She grinned. “Come shopping with me.”
“God, no. I’ll trust your judgment. I’m sure you’ll look lovely in whatever you choose. At least to me.” He tapped her gently on the nose. “And I hope that’s what counts.”
“That’s all that counts,” she said.
Dream Journal, December 5th:
I strolled through the lobby of a large hotel with the realization I’d been in a foreign city for a week and seen nothing of the sights. I decided to explore my environs but noticed I had no map or guidebook.
I wandered the streets, completely lost. I wasn’t in any city I’d ever seen before, not even in photographs. Everything was built from marble or some other pale stone. The decorative elements on the buildings were carved from the same material, so the color of the buildings never varied from a dull monochrome. The buildings were so uniform in style they gave the impression of having been created on a computer.
Despite the size of the city I saw no one on the street. Finally, I spied a dark-haired man standing on a corner and approached him to ask directions. He consulted an object the size of a postcard and handed the device to me. It had a screen displaying a detailed map of the area. I could zoom in on specific buildings and pull up data about them. I’d never seen such a thing before—a handheld device so small that could still access such information.
“Are you looking for something?” he asked.
“No. I don’t know what I’m doing here, to be honest.” I stared at him and realized he had the same odd, dark eyes as that woman Alice.
“Don’t you? Aren’t you looking for answers, Karen Foster?”
“What answers would I find here?”
“Where you are.”
“I don’t know where on earth I am.”
The man smiled. “There’s an entire universe of worlds. Earth is merely one.”
“It’s the only one I know.”
“Is it?”
The device buzzed in my hand, and I looked at the screen. It displayed a message, but in a language I didn’t recognize.
The man held out his hand. “May I see?”
I passed him the device. He studied it for a moment before handing it back to me.
“Your trust is broken, Karen Foster,” he said.
“What do you mean?” The message had disappeared. A map filled the screen of the device.
“There are those who make plans for you. Plans that will bring you pain. You must not allow them to use you for their own purposes. It is dangerous for you and for others.”
I shook my head. “Again, all this talk of danger. But always so cryptic. No one will simply speak the truth.”
“You know the truth,” the man said, “but you will not accept what you know.”
“I don’t know.” My voice cracked with frustration. “If I knew I would shout it to the world.” I thrust out my hand to return his device.
“Now that would be interesting.” The man closed my fingers over the strange object. “Perhaps it is worth considering.” He examined me for a moment. “Keep the map, Karen Foster. It may yet guide you.” He turned and strode off, disappearing around a corner.
I stared at the small, glowing screen. It no longer showed a diagram of the city. It displayed a map of the stars.
I woke then, in my bed. For some reason my feet were freezing. I asked Alex if I’d gotten out of bed at some point, but he claimed I hadn’t, so I suppose I simply kicked the covers off sometime during the night.
SEVENTEEN
Ian Vance lived at the end of a long, winding lane flanked by a colonnade of evergreens. His house was a rambling affair, part brick and part stone. Every window was lit, lending the house an inner glow. The lights were so bright it felt like day when Karen and Alex crossed the circular drive and stood at the double front doors.
“Wow,” Karen whispered, her hand firmly gripping Alex’s arm. “He does have money, doesn’t he?”
“A bit. More than me, I’m afraid.” Alex flashed Karen a conspiratorial grin. “But don’t get any ideas. He’s quite happily married to Dora.”
Karen banged her knee into his leg. “Stop. Are you going to behave, or do I have to watch you every minute?”
Alex brushed the hair from her face with his free hand. “You can watch me every minute. I won’t mind.”
They were ushered into the house by a frazzled woman in a black dress.
“Housekeeper,” Alex said.
The woman took their coats and directed them toward the back of the house. “Cocktails in the living room,” she said. “Hors d’oeuvres in the dining room.”
“Sex in the garden,” Alex whispered. Karen laughed.
At that moment a tall blond woman in a silver-sequined dress turned around. She was a large woman, but her perfectly proportioned curves rendered her as beautiful as a statue of some ancient goddess. A tumble of blonde curls surrounded her face, and her pale features were artfully heightened with makeup.
“Oh, Alex, there you are. We wondered if you’d gotten lost.”
“Not yet.” Alex leaned forward to place a kiss on her cheek. “Karen, this is Pandora O’Drury, Ian’s wife. Dora, this is Karen Foster. Also an artist, by the way.”
“A beginner, really.” As Karen took Dora’s hand the memory of walking in on Leena Rebani and Ian Vance after hearing that errant darling crossed her mind. But she dismissed her suspicions as ridiculous. She must have heard wrong. Surely Vance would not cheat on this brilliant, beautiful, woman. Or, if he had, surely she would know. Karen gnawed at her lower lip. Surely, one would know, if someone they loved was lying to them or betraying them so completely.
Alex squeezed Karen’s other hand. “But extremely talented.”
“So this is Karen,” Dora said. “I’ve heard so much about you. I was hoping Alex would bring you.”
“Told Ian I would.” Alex scanned the crowd as if searching for something.
“Oh, Ian never tells me anything. You know how he is. Things not connected to work simply fly out of his head.”
“Where is Ian, by the way?” Alex asked.
“I really don’t know. Saw him talking to some men a while ago. A very boring bunch, let me tell you. Dressed like bankers. Then they disappeared. It’s probably business,” Dora added, directing her words at Karen. “Ian’s all about business. Our life is very dull.”
“Nonsense, Dora, nothing can be dull when you’re involved,” Alex said. “Look, could you show Karen around? I’m sure she’d love to see your work. I need to find Ian and talk to him for a minute. Business.” He leaned over to plant a light kiss on Karen’s hair.
Dora agreed with enthus
iasm and shepherded Karen through the house, pointing out her own work and a collection of other fine pieces as they navigated the various rooms and hallways. As Dora provided a steady stream of anecdotes, Karen found she wasn’t required to speak a word.
When Dora led her back to the main living room, Karen looked for Alex and didn’t see him, although she did notice one familiar face. He raised a hand in greeting. Out of politeness, Karen walked over to where he was standing.
“Hello, Karen,” said Mark Hallam. A tall, very slender woman was at his side. Her chestnut hair was slicked into a tight chignon, and she had sharp features and pale gray eyes. They were a mismatched couple—a beautiful bird of prey and a common starling.
“Emma, this is Karen Foster. Karen, my wife, Emma.”
Karen murmured a hello to the tall woman, who stared down at Karen as if gazing through a clear sheet of glass.
“Are you here on your own, or with Alex Wythe?” Mark asked.
“With Alex. He’s around here somewhere.”
“I think we saw him with Ian Vance and some other men in the library, didn’t we, Mark?” Emma Hallam’s voice was as sharp as her features. “The handsome blond, correct?”
“Correct,” Mark replied gruffly.
“I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually,” Karen said.
“You don’t have a drink, Karen,” Mrs. Hallam said. “Why don’t you fetch her something, Mark?”
“I don’t know what she likes.”
“White wine is fine,” Karen said absently, still searching for Alex. “Oh, but you don’t have to get me anything, Mr. Hallam.”
“Call me Mark. You’re out of the Morpheus Program now, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“And I’m not so old that you need to be so formal.”
Emma Hallam was examining Karen and Mark with bemused curiosity. “Oh, go get the girl a drink, Mark. She looks like she could use one.”
“I don’t doubt it. White wine it is, then.” Mark strode off toward a sideboard set up as a bar.
“You met Mark on the Morpheus Project?” Emma’s hawk eyes raked over Karen’s face.
“Uh, yes.” Karen debated how to politely move away. “Excuse me, I think I’ll go and get that drink myself. I’ll send Mark back to you if you wish.”
“Oh, don’t bother,” Emma Hallam said. “He’ll wander back when he feels like it.”
The lack of concern in her voice was staggering. How in the world did two such disparate people ended up married?
“Okay, then.” Karen struggled to keep a polite smile on her face as she offered a terse goodbye. She sidled through the crowd and reached the bar as the bartender handed Mark a glass of wine. “I believe that’s mine.”
Mark passed the glass to her and asked the bartender for another. “You couldn’t wait?”
“As your wife said, I need a drink.”
Mark cradled his own glass and looked at her, his brown eyes very still behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “So, you and Alex Wythe. An interesting combination, I must say.”
“Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Not that it’s any of my business.” Mark was silent for a moment, obviously weighing his next words. “You know, Karen, he has something of a reputation. Suppose you’ve heard that?”
“I’ve heard it.”
“I don’t mean to interfere. I just feel perhaps you aren’t prepared to deal with someone like Alex Wythe.”
“Really? Is that your informed opinion, Mark?”
“It is. And not because I dislike the man. He’s quite charming. Of course, it’s all part of the package. But as I told you before, I don’t trust any of the Morpheus Project team, not entirely. There’s something not quite right about the whole enterprise. I only say this”—Mark took a sip of wine—“because I believe you should be treated with honesty.”
“And you think I’m being deceived?” Karen took a large swallow of her drink.
“I’m not sure. I question it. I question a lot of things, but to tell the truth, I’ve no proof to back up any of my suspicions.”
“Well, Mark, allow me to me relieve your mind. I can take care of myself, so you needn’t worry about me. As for Alex, for your information, we love one another. I’m sure you doubt that, but it’s true.”
“I don’t doubt it, on your part. Speak of the devil, there’s Alex now. I’m sure he’s wondering what we’ve been talking about.”
“He won’t have to wonder. I’ll tell him.”
“Of course you will.” Mark finished his wine in one swallow and walked away before Alex reached Karen’s side.
“Where did you get off to?” Karen tried and failed to suppress the edge in her tone.
Alex surveyed her face with amusement. “I had to talk with Ian and some other people. Very boring if you aren’t involved in the project.”
“I’ve been accosted by Mark Hallam. He has the most suspicious mind.”
“Yes, I know.” Alex took the empty goblet from Karen’s hand and set it on a nearby table. “He thinks we’re hiding things from him.”
“And are you?”
“Probably.” Alex took Karen’s arm and guided her away from the bar. “Come, let’s sneak into the garden for some fresh air, shall we?”
“It’s cold out.”
Alex draped his arm over Karen’s shoulders and guided her to the French doors opening onto the patio. “I’ll warm you up.”
As the party was winding down, Karen wandered away from a conversation between Alex and some scientists and went in search of a bathroom. Both first-floor restrooms, helpfully pointed out by Dora, were locked. Karen took the wide staircase up to the second floor. As she walked past one half-open door she heard a noise and turned to see someone step from a darkened room.
At first glance she thought it was Alice but quickly realized it was a dark-haired man. Not the stranger from the lobby or the street, though. This man was slightly older, yet bore an uncanny resemblance to the others. Karen shrank back against the wall. The man turned his head. His eyes were as dark and odd as Alice’s, his face as neutral a mask. He didn’t notice her and strode off down the hall.
Karen ran down the stairs and dashed into the first available bathroom, almost knocking over the exiting occupant. “Excuse me,” she said, her voice cracking. She stayed in the room longer than necessary, spending an inordinate amount of time staring at her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror.
At length, she exited the bathroom and joined Alex, who was debating the merits of some theory with Jasper James. She slid in close, taking comfort from Alex’s warmth.
“Poor Karen, you’re quite tired of this, aren’t you?” Alex placed his hand on her back. He gazed down at her with bright eyes, and his expression changed. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen some horror. Has Mark Hallam been lecturing you again?”
“No, something else. Can I talk to you alone?”
“Of course. Jasper won’t mind.”
“Naturally not.” James gave Karen’s arm a light pat. “Take care,” he said, moving off.
“So what is it?” Alex asked.
Karen told him about the man, the twin of Alice and double of the other dark-haired strangers. “She couldn’t have brothers, with one of them somehow connected to Dr. Vance, could she? I mean, maybe that’s how she knew so much.”
Alex, who’d been looking up and over Karen’s head as she told her story, glanced down and gave her a comforting smile. “Of course. Clever of you to think of that. Brothers—makes sense, doesn’t it? Now listen, Karen”—he pulled her closer—“you needn’t worry about this. I’ll discuss it with Ian when I see him on Monday. I’m sure he’ll be able to explain. It’s probably as you say, though—Alice has a brother, and she and other family members have used his information to concoct some strange fantasy concerning the Morpheus Project. Maybe even to get back at their sibling. Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose.” Karen’s head
was pounding. “Can we leave now? I’m very tired.”
“Of course, my sweet.” Alex kissed her bare shoulder. “I’ll just tell our hosts goodbye.”
As she watched Alex approach Ian and Dora, Karen caught sight of Mark Hallam helping his wife into her coat. Even as he did so, he stared at Karen with a question in his eyes. She looked away.
In the silence of the car Karen glanced over at Alex once or twice, but he appeared lost in another world. It was not until they reached the condo that he smiled again. Without a word he took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom, where she found that she didn’t require conversation for comfort.
EIGHTEEN
Although she was reluctant to leave Alex, Karen’s guilt forced her to visit her parents for Christmas. The night before her departure, she gave him a watercolor of the falls—something she’d painted from memory while he was at work. He gave her an elegantly wrought star pendant on a slender chain. In the center of the star was one bright, winking diamond.
A few days after Christmas, Thea drove up to Karen’s parents’ home and immediately eyed the jewelry. “So, a necklace. Not a ring.”
This was exactly what Karen’s mother had said—after overcoming her initial shock over the news about the relationship. Karen frowned and fingered the star pendant. “No, not a ring. And I’m glad. It’s too soon for that.”
“You’re living with the guy, and it’s too soon for an engagement ring?” Thea shook her head. “Honestly, Karen, sometimes I think you need a keeper. I hope he’s at least hinted at giving you another diamond someday. Plans for the future and all that.”
“We don’t talk about those things.” Karen fell silent. No, they never talked about the future. Strange, she hadn’t realized that before.
“Well, you seem happy. I hope it works out, I really do. But I worry.” Thea paused, seemingly debating with herself, before going on. “Okay, confession time. I checked up on the guy when you first got together, and I heard he was something of a player. I didn’t say anything because I thought it was just a fling. But now …”
