Do Not Disturb

by Christie Ridgway

  Then she glanced at Judd’s stoic face and her grief resurged. She ran out without saying goodbye.

  Judd stared after Beth. What had she said? That she wasn’t going to keep her secrets any longer? Oh God. Oh God. He’d been so stunned by the idea of her leaving that he’d almost missed it.

  Taking off after her at a run, when he burst through the tent entrance he smacked straight into Angel. They grabbed each other to keep their balance.

  Her hair, her face, was a pale smudge in the dark gray of early dawn. “The world just keeps tilting on me,” she muttered.

  The odd rawness of her voice gave him pause. He tightened his grasp on her and looked into her face.

  As if sensing his question, she met his gaze squarely. “I couldn’t help but overhear. All of it.”

  Without even thinking, Judd spoke. “I don’t know what to do.” His voice was gritty, too low, too harsh. “I love her.”

  “You’re asking me? Well, this is what I always say.” Angel closed her eyes. “The truth. Once you have the whole story, you gotta tell the truth.”

  Chapter 18

  Judd found Beth in her kitchen. He didn’t bother ringing the bell or even knocking. Instead, he walked around to her back door and let himself inside.

  And then stood looking at her, tongue-tied.

  He still didn’t know what to do. Nothing in the religions and philosophies he’d studied provided a suitable guide to this moment.

  She glanced up at him from her place at the table. There was a smudge of dust on her cheek, her bangs were hanging messily in her eyes, and he realized she was wearing a T-shirt with a rip in the shoulder seam. He gaped, because except for the time he’d kissed her, he’d never, not once, seen Beth in less-than-perfect order.

  Then he looked around the kitchen, surprised again by the dirty dishes in the sink, the long, wide smear of something—peanut butter?—on the usually pristine countertop, the quarter inch of scorching coffee in the bottom of the pot.

  He stepped over to unplug the coffee machine and caught sight of Shaft peering cautiously around the corner from the hallway. Their eyes met, and they spoke to each other in the way that dumb animals—males—can do. Don’t look at me, the creature clearly said. I’m not gonna try to reason with her. Shaft may be “the cat that won’t cop out when there’s danger all about,” but he was a character in a movie…. I’m a real cat, and a neuteredone at that.

  Judd turned back to Beth. She was bent over the table, her pen racing across a sheet of paper.

  He stepped closer, alarm twisting his gut again. He’d heard right. She was writing a letter to Lainey.

  To get Beth’s attention, he shuffled his feet. When that didn’t work, he rattled an empty chair. When she continued to ignore him, he finally resorted to snatching the pen from her hand.

  She didn’t even blink. Instead, she grabbed for another pen on the tabletop, at the same instant that he reached for the stack of notepaper beside it. Their fingertips brushed.

  They both jerked back.

  They both bent over their pieces of paper.

  Judd slid his note her way.

  Without a beat, Beth swept it off the table.

  It fluttered to the floor, even as her pen continued forming word after word of her letter to her sister. Retaining a tight hold on his calm, Judd grimly plucked another blank sheet off the table. Penned another line. Watched again as she dismissed his thoughts with a wave of her hand.

  On his third failed attempt, she spoke without looking at him. “Don’t bother anymore. I won’t read it.”

  Judd closed his eyes. Be calm. Find balance. He tried losing himself in the quiet of the room, settling his mind to its original state of purity and clarity—Zen. But his anxious heartbeats boomed in his ears, his harsh breaths ripped through the silence, the clock on the kitchen wall loudly ticked off the seconds of this last chance.

  His mouth moved, once, twice. “You’ll listen, then.”

  Her head jolted up at the rusty sound of his voice. She stared at him.

  He held up his finger. “One thing. I have just one thing to tell you.”

  Her gaze jumped away from his. “It’s too late. I gave you chances to talk about…about us. But you wouldn’t, couldn’t.”

  “Not us.” He shoved back his chair, knelt at her feet, and put his hands over hers. “More important than us.”

  She tried to pull away from him, but he held fast. As a stockbroker he’d given advice thousands upon thousands of times. He’d made his clients money, enabled them to buy luxurious lifestyles and the most expensive of toys. But when his prize client—and best friend—the one he’d made millions for, committed suicide, Judd had woken up to the fact that all his talk and all his trading had never bought a cent’s-worth of happiness.

  From that moment on, he’d vowed never to advise anyone again. He’d started listening instead. But now he had to break that vow.

  “You can’t tell Lainey.” It was as concise as he could make it.

  Beth jerked back in surprise. “Lainey? This is about Lainey? You’re breaking your silence of five years for Lainey?”

  “Yes.”

  Her face paled. “For Lainey?” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  She turned her head away from him. “No—”

  “This is your secret to bear, Beth. I won’t let you hurt your sister by telling the truth.”

  Her eyes closed, Beth was shaking her head. “No, no, no, no.”

  “It’s not right, not fair, to free yourself by burdening her.”

  One tear squeezed from between Beth’s lashes and rolled down her face. He followed it with his gaze, pretending it was his hand, his mouth, caressing her cheek.

  “So I’m the wrong one again,” she said dully. “The bad twin.”

  “If you tell, yes.”

  “No!” She wrenched her hands from his and jumped out of her chair. “Who the hell are you?” she yelled at him. “Who the hell are you to tell me what I should do?”

  And there it was, the question he’d feared. It was the one he knew would come up the instant he opened his mouth. When he was Judd Sterling, noble guru, Silent Man of Mystery, he’d always hoped he stood a chance against the “Artist of the Heart.”

  But now she’d know he was a fake. She would know there was nothing deep beneath his silence.

  “Who am I?” His throat tried to hold back the words, but he forced them out. “I was a golf-obsessed, NASDAQ-addicted Wall Street trader who didn’t know he was burned out until he buried his best friend and then his marriage. Your ordinary asshole.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Beth turned her back on him. “And now?”

  “Now…” Surrendering, he sighed. “Now I’m still ordinary. I’m just your ordinary forty-something guy trying to figure out the fucking meaning of life.”

  Her back still to him, she walked to the sink to stare out the window. “Yet you’ve managed to figure out I can’t tell Lainey.” She said the words slowly, coldly.

  “Beth.” She was turning his heart inside out again and it hurt so damn much. “It’s your cross to bear.”

  “It hurts me. You don’t care how much it hurts me.”

  He closed his eyes. You don’t know how much I care about you. But still, he couldn’t say it. “I wish…I want…”

  Her shoulders stiffened as he got to his feet. When he stepped up behind her, she pressed her belly against the countertop. “You’ve said your piece. Now go away.”

  But there was a wealth of pain in her voice and however ordinary he was, he couldn’t leave her without trying to do something about it.

  “Let me help,” he said, lifting his hand to gently stroke her hair. “I know you would never forgive yourself if you hurt your sister again, Beth. That would be heavier than what you’re carrying now. But I’m still your friend. So tell me your secrets, tell me how and when it hurts, and I’ll be here to make it better if I can.”

  She stilled. “What?”<
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  “You’ll only hurt yourself more if you hurt Lainey too.”

  Her head slowly turned toward him. They were close, so close that she had to tip back her head to look into his eyes. “You don’t want me to tell…for me?”

  He nodded, puzzled as to where the surprise was.

  “For me,” she said again, as if she had to be sure. “Not Lainey. You broke your silence for me.”

  He nodded another time.

  She ran her gaze over his face. “I…” The word drifted away and she looked down at the countertop. “Why, Judd? I need to know why.”

  Why? She’d asked him that before. Why did you kiss me? Why?

  All the old reasons for silence were still there. What wisdom had he really gained in the past five years? He’d never had more than a superficial relationship with anyone, even his so-called best friend. Could he do differently with Beth?

  But he already had.

  Would she let him get that close?

  But she already had.

  Could he win the heart that had been bruised for so long?

  “Why, Judd?” Beth whispered again.

  He had to try. Yet still, the words were difficult. He looked around for something to write with, but retrieving paper and pen meant leaving her side. So he made do.

  In the smear of peanut butter on the countertop, Judd traced three symbols: IU.

  Beth stared at them a moment, then turned so that her body was flush against his. There was something on her face—hope, joy, wonder? “You love me?”

  Yes. He gathered her against him, holding her fiercely as he meant to for the rest of his life. Later he’d find his voice again and tell her everything, all his secrets included. He’d tell her how he came to Tranquility House and then stayed, not because he found himself in silence or yoga or tai chi or tofu. I stayed because I found you.

  “You love me.” She declared it this time.

  He smiled against her hair. Whispered against her cheek. “More than words can say.”

  It was midmorning when Angel left her cottage, feeling drained. Flexing her cramped fingers, she headed for the common building. Cooper had to be wondering what happened to her. She’d slipped out of his bed at dawn, planning to retrieve her jar of contraband instant coffee and then slip right back in beside him. But then she’d heard Beth and Judd, and what she’d heard had sent her to her own place for more than coffee.

  She drew in a deep breath, and the hot, dry air sucked the moisture from her mouth. An image of a frosty glass of diet Pepsi bloomed in her mind to hover at its edge like an oasis. Lord, she missed them: diet Pepsis, manicures, lattes, honking horns. Deadlines, idiot copy editors, her byline, bold and strong in her favorite Helvetica font.

  She wanted to go home.

  Oh, she wanted to forget about the past three weeks.

  “Hey!” A big hand grabbed her arm, spun her around. “I thought we had a deal about you not running out on me.” Cooper towered over her, looking mildly harassed and monumentally gorgeous. Her heart tried to curl in on itself.

  She wanted to forget about him.

  But how could she, how could she ever, when he suddenly grabbed her by both elbows and hauled her up to his mouth? She lifted her face toward his kiss, letting it blot everything from her mind but its sweet, hot passion.

  Pressing her body against his, she angled her head, silently begging him to make it go on and on.

  “Damn!” His expression bemused, he set her back on her feet. “What good deed did I do to deserve that?”

  She crowded closer to him, twining her arms around his neck. “Let’s go back to bed.” They could turn out the lights, draw the drapes, and pretend they were the only ones in the world.

  He cocked an eyebrow and gently pushed her hair off her face. “It was you who got up for dawn patrol.”

  “Let’s pretend I didn’t.” Rising on her toes, she kissed the scratchy underside of his chin. “Let’s start again where we left off.”

  He smiled, toying with one of the curls at her temple. “Sounds tempting. But I can’t—”

  “I need you,” she whispered, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt. If time couldn’t run backward, then it would just have to stand still.

  “Angel—”

  “Cooper.” She opened her eyes wide, trying to appear as fragile and innocent as everyone always thought her. Her bottom lip trembled. “Didn’t you hear me?” She’d wheedle if she had to. Beg. “I need you.” The words were getting easier to say.

  He laughed. “You had me worried for a minute there.” As he pulled away from her, he swatted her behind. “But Angel Buchanan doesn’t need anybody, I know that.”

  She stared at him. “But…”

  He gave her another swat. “Come on, honey. The fact of the matter is, the fun stuff will have to wait until tonight. Right now, I need you.”

  He was several steps ahead before he seemed to notice she wasn’t with him. He turned around. “Well, come on. We’ve got a lot to do since Judd took Beth away.”

  “Away?” She hurried forward. “Away where?”

  “Judd has a condo in Pebble Beach.” Grinning, Cooper wiggled his eyebrows. “They’re taking a few days off.”

  Angel blinked. “Now?”

  “They left fifteen minutes ago. And no time like the present, is what I say.”

  The present. Angel’s footsteps faltered and she thought longingly of the future. When she was back in San Francisco, and all that was here—and what she’d have to decide to do about it—was behind her.

  “So we’re in charge of Tranquility,” Cooper continued.

  She stopped again. “We?”

  “Shh, shh.” Cooper grabbed her hand and made a big play of scouting about the deserted path. “Remember, we have to set a good example.”

  “I’m still unclear as to why ’we’ are involved here.” But she let him pull her forward.

  He glanced down, his face unreadable. “Because…because I have to be and I want you with me. Good enough?”

  It was good enough to end her objections. She didn’t know what to tell him, what to tell herself when he said something like that.

  So she helped him dismantle the breakfast buffet. She help him assemble the lunch buffet, then dismantled that too. They didn’t have time for anything but a glass of ice water before they started the whole routine all over again for dinner. They weren’t alone as they worked, because retreatants were in and out of the common building the entire afternoon.

  Angel not only blessed their busy-ness, but for the first time she blessed the rule of silence. Thanks to it, she could work beside Cooper all day without the fear of spilling any of her secrets…including her feelings for him.

  The feelings that were a queasy mix of sadness, longing, and love. Revealing them would only make their last hours together awkward and uncomfortable. She wanted him to be able to look back on their final night together with fondness.

  At last, the dinner dishes were put away and the countertops clean. In the dining room, Angel dropped onto one of the picnic benches and rested her head on her bent arms. The area was deserted, so she risked a groan. “I think I have tofu underneath my fingernails.”

  “Poor baby.” He walked over to stroke his hand over her hair. “But don’t get too comfortable. We have one last thing to do.”

  “You go ahead. I’ll sleep here.”

  “I promise it won’t take long.” His hand ran down the back of her hair again. “And then we’ll go to bed.”

  There was a husky promise in his voice that she couldn’t deny. And she couldn’t deny herself one more night with him either.

  He must have seen the eagerness in her eyes, because his laugh was low and smug as he drew her up from her seat to lead her outside and into the starlight. But when he turned toward the exhibition tents, Angel balked. “What are you doing?”

  Without pausing, he swept her forward, then swept her through the flapped opening of the tent that housed the paintings.
“Beth made me promise to give it a check.”

  Angel heard a click, then the interior was lit.

  Just as it had been that morning, predawn, when she’d learned—

  Her thoughts evaporated as her gaze roamed the inside of the tent. She’d glimpsed the paintings a week ago, but she’d avoided taking a good look at them. Now they were framed and mounted on huge, vanilla-colored, silk-covered panels. The panels were suspended at slight angles from a series of beams that also supported tracked lighting that strategically spotlighted the framed canvases.

  Against the neutral background, the glowing, almost otherworldly Whitney colors leaped out at her.

  The children—no, child—did too.

  It was clear to her that on every canvas was the same child, a girl, depicted at different ages. There were two or three images of a fat-cheeked baby, but the rest showed her at five, at seven, at nine. Angel flashed back to the gallery in San Luis Obispo and her stomach clenched. Was this the absent child from the “missing children” series?

  Was this—

  “Angel?”

  Her head whipped toward Cooper. “What? What?”

  “You seem…” He studied her face. “I don’t know.”

  She managed to smile, to shrug, to tell herself the paintings weren’t what she thought. “I’m okay.” Nothing, not even these paintings, would ruin her last night with Cooper.

  He nodded, then scanned the room. “Everything looks fine for tomorrow. The brothers at the monastery will send a van for the retreatants before breakfast. Lainey will do her traditional thing and drive into Carmel to greet the guests and ride back in the first bus. Sometime after the retreat clears out and well before the first bus arrives at one, the caterers will show up. Once the show is over—”

  “I’ll be heading back to San Francisco.” She didn’t know what made her say it. To test him?

  He stilled, then slowly turned toward her. “I guess you will.”

  And if it had been a test, the one failing it was Angel. “It’s hot in here,” she mumbled.