Among the Shadows (The Ash Grove Chronicles)

by Amanda DeWees

  “What’s going on?” From what Maddie knew of her from drama class, Joy Sumner didn’t seem easily rattled. Just cheerful and level-headed, definitely more stable than… well, Maddie, for example.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” said Tasha, “but this guy has started stalking her.”

  “Stalking her!” Maddie’s hackles went up. “What’s he doing? How can we help her?”

  “We’ll tell you all about it when we pick you up.”

  When the three of them were seated in a booth at McCloskey’s, Maddie was amused to see Joy darting curious glances around her. The teacher’s daughter seemed pretty sheltered; she’d probably never come here before, and from her expression as the waiter brought their Irish coffees, she must not be used to illegally drinking, either. Her eyes were bright with the novelty of it.

  “Down the hatch,” said Maddie, clinking her mug against Joy’s. “It may not put hair on your chest, but it’ll warm your cockles.”

  Joy looked as if she thought that might be a dirty joke but didn’t want to ask. She had a cute round face with lots of freckles, and looked as innocent as a sunflower. “It’s kind of strong,” she said after her first sip, but then drank more. “I like it.”

  “Don’t drink it too fast,” Tasha advised. Her coffee was plain old American, the price of always being designated driver. “Maybe it’ll make things seem a little less freaky, though.”

  “So what is this about a stalker?” Maddie wanted to know. Venting about William had taken a back seat; helping Joy was more important. “When did all this start?”

  “A few days ago.” Joy had a smudge of whipped cream on her upper lip, and Maddie had to squelch a motherly urge to reach across the table and wipe it off. “Tasha and I went to the movies, and as soon as we parked this guy on a motorcycle pulled in behind us and started saying the strangest things to me.”

  “Like what? ‘I need your hair to stuff a pillow’ strange?”

  “No.” Joy hesitated. “‘I’m your husband’ strange.”

  “What? That’s insane! What was he like? Bald, oily, middle-aged?”

  “No, he was gorgeous,” Joy said in a rush. “He was like a prince from a fairy tale. And he was so sad when I didn’t recognize him. It just broke my heart.”

  “And freaked you out, don’t forget,” Tasha put in. “He started listing all this stuff he knows about her, Maddie, and it’s creepy. He must have been spying on her.”

  “But he wasn’t sleazy, or violent. He begged me to talk with him alone. I think maybe I should, but Tasha said not to.”

  “I didn’t forbid you, Joy, I just said it didn’t seem like a smart thing to do. Tell Maddie about the rose.”

  Joy hesitated, but Tasha’s firm expression—or Maddie’s avid one—decided her. “The next day Mom and Dad and I were out for a while at an open house,” she said. “When we got home, there was a box on my desk with a rose and a note. From him.”

  He’d broken into her home? Not cool. “What did it say?” she demanded.

  Joy dug in the front pocket of her jeans and produced a folded-up piece of notebook paper. Maddie unfolded it and read aloud, “‘Dear Joy, I don’t want to scare you, so I’m not going to stalk you.’ Ha, a little late for that.” But her voice quickened with interest as she kept reading. “‘I know we belong together. Please try to remember how happy we were and what you mean to me. Call me any time and I’ll come running. I love you. Tan.’ It’s actually kind of sweet, aside from the whole breaking-and-entering thing. Tan? Is that his name?”

  “Tanner Lindsey,” said Tasha. “Remember, we saw him on campus the other day talking to Mo?”

  “The really hunky one? Damn, Joy!” Maddie sat back and eyed her with interest. What was going on with this ordinary-looking girl to make a hot guy follow her around like a lovesick puppy? “I want to know your secret.”

  “Believe me, I’d like to know what made him pick me too.” But Joy wasn’t enjoying any of this, and Maddie wasn’t surprised when Tasha put her arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Something about Joy made her feel protective too.

  “Did he do anything else?” Maddie asked. “I mean, he didn’t root through your underwear drawer or cut up your clothes or anything, did he?”

  “No. Just left the flower and the note.”

  That was something positive, at least. He might be out of his gourd, but it didn’t sound like he was actively dangerous—yet. “What do you think he meant by that stuff about remembering? That doesn’t sound like standard-issue stalker.”

  Joy shook her head helplessly. “I’ve thought and thought, and I have no idea. I wish I could remember—I hate the idea that he thinks I’m blowing him off.”

  “Did you talk to your parents like I suggested?” Tasha asked.

  “Not yet. I know they’ll be like you, and want to talk to his parents or the police to make him back off, but I feel like I could help him somehow if I could just talk to him and—”

  But Tasha was shaking her head sternly. “You don’t want to encourage him. Remember, he got expelled from Ash Grove. He’s not exactly Prince Charming, no matter how much he talks about being in love with you.”

  “What if it’s not just talk?” asked Joy in a small voice. “He seems like he really means it.”

  Maddie and Tasha exchanged looks. For Joy’s sake, this had to be nipped in the bud. The worst thing she could do was to actually start believing this guy. “If he was messed up enough to be expelled, he’s probably got a screw loose,” said Maddie. “I’m sure it’s not personal, Joy; the radio frequency coming through his tinfoil hat just told him you were his destined mate.”

  Joy’s eyebrows drew together in a glower, which looked strange on her cheerful face. “But what if I am?” she retorted. “I can’t think about anything else since he spoke to me. I do feel like there’s a connection between us.”

  “Sweetie, that’s just your hormones standing up and saluting. I’ve seen the boy—it’s no wonder he turned your thermostat up. But it’s not anything more than that.”

  “I think it is.”

  Maddie managed not to sigh. Joy was a harder sell than she’d expected. “Look, I’ve felt that chemistry with a guy too. With more than one guy. And I know you think it means he’s your soul mate, but in my experience it just means a lot of screwing, a lot of fighting, and a really messy breakup.”

  “You should listen to her,” Tasha put in. “If there’s one thing Maddie knows about, it’s messy breakups.”

  Maddie opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. It was only the truth.

  “He said he was my husband,” Joy said stubbornly. “What if he and I really are supposed to be together?”

  “Guys will say anything to get into a girl’s pants,” Maddie told her. “Joy, trust me. You need to forget about him.”

  Joy gave her a mutinous look. “I don’t want to,” she said, and flung out of the booth. Seconds later she’d vanished through the ladies’ room door.

  “This Tanner’s really gotten under her skin.” Maddie shook her head and took another slug of coffee. “I can see why you wanted to talk some sense into her.”

  “That’s just it, though,” said Tasha, absently stirring her coffee. “She’s never seemed like the gullible type. I don’t know why she’s letting this guy get to her.” Then she added, “So what’s up with you? You sure had a burr under your blanket when you called.”

  Maddie hesitated. She knew Tasha would ask why she’d hooked up with William in the first place, and she didn’t really know how to defend herself. She’d been unhappy and lonely because of breaking up with Derek, but that hadn’t been the only reason, had it? The harder she tried to pin down the memory of that day, the more it eluded her. It was frustrating—and a little scary.

  “Maybe one of us should check on Joy,” she said finally. “She’s been in there a while.”

  “I’ll go see how she’s doing,” said Tasha, sliding out of the booth. “But I still want
to know what’s bugging you.”

  Minutes passed, though, and they didn’t return. Finally Maddie got up and took her empty mug to the bar. “Can I get a refill?” she asked the cute blond guy behind the bar.

  “Coming right up. Irish coffee, right?”

  “Emphasis on the Irish.” She felt a momentary twinge; hadn’t she promised Gail Brody she’d ease off of the drinking? But when she tried to remember when, she couldn’t recall exactly. Good. She was off the hook.

  “Looks like some kind of drama’s going on with your friend,” said the bartender, handing her mug back with her refill. He was a surfer type, which was unusual this far from the west coast, with blond hair and a tight, tight t-shirt that showed he worked out a lot.

  Maddie’s spirits lifted slightly. She slid onto a stool. “Yeah, seems like I won’t get a chance to tell my sad story at all. Not unless you don’t mind me shedding a few tears on your manly shoulder.”

  He laughed. “I’ve had stranger offers.” His eyes were a brilliant Nordic blue, and held a look of amusement and appreciation. Almost automatically Maddie shifted her posture to arch her back slightly, emphasizing her not inconsiderable breasts. She thought an eyebrow flicker of interest greeted the move. “So, can I help you get something off your chest?” the guy murmured, leaning over the bar toward her.

  She hid a grin. Nicely played.

  But what was the point? She didn’t want to play footsie with bartenders, however hunky. She wanted William.

  Her sigh was so emphatic that it made the whipped cream on her coffee shudder. “You’ve probably heard this kind of thing a million times,” she said. “I’m sure you can guess.”

  “Guy troubles?” When she nodded, he leaned toward her, bracing his forearms on the bar. “Well, he’d have to be blind not to notice how hot you are, so obviously something’s in the way. Or someone. Another girl, probably, and since she can’t possibly be as cute as you, she has something else going for her.”

  Maddie snorted. “Yeah. She’s dead.”

  “I see. Yeah, you can’t compete with that. She’ll never be demanding, or have morning breath, or disappoint him by being human.”

  It was a relief to find someone who understood. “And the thing is, she wasn’t even nice to him when she was alive,” she burst out. “It’s so unfair. If she were still alive, they’d be broken up by now. If she hadn’t tried to kill him—”

  “Whoa! What kind of Game of Thrones stuff is going on at that school?” But he looked more interested than shocked.

  She backpedaled. “She went off her meds or something. The main thing is, she was using him and it’s her own fault she’s dead. And he’d be better off with me. But he just can’t see it.”

  “Why don’t you just sex him up,” he suggested. “He won’t be able to resist you. Problem solved.”

  “Well… I’ve kind of had mixed results with that technique.”

  “Oh really?” he murmured, leaning closer. “That sounds like a story.”

  The way he was smiling at her made her suddenly feel a little… shy? She hadn’t felt shy in years. But he looked as if he knew really personal things about her—like what she looked like naked. It should have been fun and flirty, but she actually felt a little uncomfortable.

  “Nope,” she said firmly, resisting the impulse to cross her arms over her chest. “No story there.”

  He must have seen the change in her mood, because he straightened, putting a little more air between them. “So what else can you try?” he asked, the insinuation gone from his voice. “I’m assuming logic is being its pesky, unreliable self?”

  “Of course. And I know he probably needs more time, but it’s driving me crazy. She cut me out while she was alive, and she’s still cutting me out. When do I get to be with him? How long’s it gonna take?”

  “Hey, easy there.” He produced a tissue from behind the bar and handed it to her. “It sounds like she really messed things up. It’s too bad you can’t turn back time so that she didn’t get involved with him.”

  “Or even further,” she sniffed. The memory of skinny, snobby, supercilious Sheila… she must be getting a buzz on if she was getting alliterative. But the drinks had created a comforting pool of warmth in her stomach, and the sympathetic gaze of the bartender’s bright blue eyes was soothing as well. “What would really be great is if she’d never been here at all.”

  “You mean, if she’d never been born?” he asked. “Yeah, that would solve your problem perfectly.”

  Actually, she’d only meant it would have been great if Sheila had gone to some other school. But now that she thought about it, a world without Sheila Hardesty was a pretty cool idea. No BBBs lording it over the other girls, for one thing: Alissa and Grace on their own wouldn’t be as dominating. And sweet, impressionable William would never have had his mind poisoned against Maddie, would never have become infatuated with that cold-blooded demon-summoning bitch.

  “Yeah,” sighed Maddie. “If only.”

  “It’s too bad there aren’t any helpful angels hanging around like in It’s a Wonderful Life,” said the bartender sympathetically. “Or Ricardo Montalban.”

  “I’m not up on Star Trek, sorry.”

  “No, I meant Fantasy Island. Making people’s fantasies come true.” He stared into space and said dreamily, “Imagine it. Getting back to campus to find your guy waiting for you in your dorm room. He’s there to apologize, to make it up to you for being so cold to you. He’s brought pizza with your favorite toppings and a DVD of The Notebook. He massages your feet while—”

  Maddie stared at him in indignant disbelief. “What, do I look like I’m forty?” she demanded. “That is so not my fantasy.”

  He grinned, untroubled. “Well, naturally your sorcerer would tailor it to suit you.”

  “My what?”

  “The guy granting your wish, your Dumbledore or whoever. It’s a shame real life doesn’t work like that. Wouldn’t it be great if there were fairy godmothers or magicians to mysteriously grant a wish and make things right? Or if you could just put a coin in the Zoltar machine and have your life changed by magic?”

  A wish.

  A magician.

  A coin.

  Maddie’s mind was working a little sluggishly at this point, thanks to the whiskey, but an idea was starting to formulate. A potentially awesome idea that made her heart beat a little faster.

  Josiah Cavanaugh had come through for her and William before when she’d given him a coin and wished for luck. Was it too much to ask for him to grant another wish?

  It was worth thinking about. Definitely worth thinking about, maybe when she was closer to sober.

  Ah, screw sober. That wouldn’t change things. It wouldn’t make Sheila less of a lodestone around her neck. Or was it milestone? That didn’t sound right either. Joy would probably know. Having an English teacher for a dad, she must absorb these things by cirrhosis. Or something. Maddie dragged her train of thought back onto the tracks.

  “You know, I never did make it through all of It’s a Wonderful Life,” she admitted. “But it works out in the end, right?”

  He grinned. His teeth showed white and perfectly even against his suntan. “It works out in the end, yes. After he makes his wish.”

  “Cool,” said Maddie. The ladies’ room door swung open and Tasha emerged, her expression concerned as she shepherded Joy out with her. Joy’s eyes were red, but her jaw was set at a determined angle. Tasha clearly hadn’t talked her around.

  “I think we should head out now,” said Tasha. “Joy’s not feeling too well.”

  “I feel fine. I just don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  Maddie didn’t feel the need to linger either, now that she had a plan of action. She turned to ask the bartender for the check, but he had disappeared. Disappointed, she flagged down the owner to pay. McCloskey was a short thirtyish man with a brown beard, not nearly as scenic as the blond guy.

  “I like your new bartender,” she sa
id, as he swiped her credit card.

  He cocked an eye at her. “New bartender?”

  “The blond surfer dude. He’s really nice.”

  “Maddie, let’s go,” called Joy, and Maddie quickly wrote in a big tip for the bartender, signed the receipt, and hurried to join the others at the car.

  Chapter 7

  “Dad,” said Joy, “do you remember a student named Tanner Lindsey?”

  Her father coughed abruptly and took a sip of iced tea. They were eating dinner the night after Joy had gone to McCloskey’s with Tasha and Maddie. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Tanner, even after they’d been so discouraging.

  “Tanner Lindsey,” her father repeated. “The name is familiar. He was expelled a couple of years ago, wasn’t he?”

  “But what do you remember about him?” persisted Joy. “What was he like when he was in your class?”

  He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “I’m sorry, kittycat, but I didn’t really form much of an impression at the time. I think he kind of kept to himself. I remember him riding that motorcycle around more than I remember him being in class.”

  “You’re making him sound irresistible,” said her mother. “A loner bad boy with a motorcycle? I’ll bet panties hit the ground everywhere he went.”

  “Anna!” But even though his voice was reproving, when Joy looked up she found him gazing at her mom with the same adoring expression as always, as if he couldn’t believe his luck. Lately it was almost as if they’d been having a kind of second honeymoon; they’d been practically inseparable, and her dad, who normally didn’t go in for sentimental stuff, had even started planning a vow-renewal ceremony for their next anniversary. Joy kept walking into rooms to find them snuggled close together, whispering and giggling. It was cute that they were still so into each other after being married so long, but sometimes she wished they’d be a little more dignified.

  Like now, for instance, when her mom stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m just saying, this Tanner sounds like a heartbreaker,” she said. “What brought him to mind, hon?”