Woke Up Dead

by Tina Wainscott

  That soft look on Sam’s face from a moment before was replaced by something dull and lifeless. “That’s Jennie,” he said in a voice that matched his expression.

  Her fingers tightened on the frame. “The prettiest woman you ever knew,” she said in a whisper, staring down at her reflection mixed with the image below the glass. Jennie hadn’t been all that pretty. For some reason Sam thought so.

  How did he get this picture? Gabby had taken it and included it in a collage of photos that took up half her bedroom wall. Maxine couldn’t think of a tactful way to ask how he’d gotten it, so she set it gently down and walked back to the couch. Sam was someplace else, his gaze riveted to the flames in the fireplace.

  She nudged the words out, not even sure why she was even asking. “Do you miss her?”

  He kept his gaze directed at the fire. “Yes. She was…great.” He blinked, looking at her finally. “Tomorrow, I’ve got some checking around to do on your case, but I also have some surveillance to do for Ned. I guess you’ll be going with me. I get an early start in the morning, so maybe you’ll want to get some sleep. Been a helluva day.”

  He was trying to get rid of her. It seemed that every time he talked about Jennie, he closed himself to her. It had to be the guilt of not saving her that ate away at him. She’d heal him of that, even if it took time.

  “It has been a long day,” she said, trying to salvage some pride. Then she smiled. “You’re taking me with you on your surveillance?”

  “I guess I’ll have to, if I’m going to do my job right.”

  “I promise I won’t be any trouble.”

  His mouth came up in a half-smile. “That’s what you said when you asked me to marry you.”

  “I asked you to marry me?”

  “Well, you were there, weren’t you?”

  “Of course.” Well, Maxine had more guts than Jennie ever had. “I just forgot, that’s all.”

  “Did you ask Armand, or did he pop the question?”

  She erased the blank look on her face. “He asked.”

  “Listen, if you want to call him and smooth things out, I can put on my headphones and give you some privacy. Or you can go in the bathroom with the portable phone.”

  She shook her head, maybe too quickly. “I’d better not. I—I’ll call him tomorrow.”

  Sam shrugged. “Whatever. Just thought you’d want to call your little…kissums.” Even he couldn’t keep the grin from his face. Neither could she.

  “It’s silly, isn’t it?”

  “Yep.”

  “He’s a nice guy, but…he’s not for me.”

  “Don’t make any rash decisions right now. Like I said before, this is an emotional time in your life. You obviously loved him enough to say yes to his proposal of marriage.” He reached over and touched the big diamond on her engagement ring. “Wait ‘til this all blows over before breaking his heart.” He started to get up, but she wrapped her fingers around his arm.

  “Sam, did…I break your heart? When we got divorced, I mean.” She wasn’t even sure who had initiated it.

  He looked down at her. “Maxine, you broke my heart long before we got divorced. Every time you asked me to be something I wasn’t, or compared me with Ned, or asked for something you knew I couldn’t give you. Every time you sounded like my family, it broke a little piece.” He stood, letting her hand drop away. “Until there wasn’t anything left.” At her stricken expression, he added, “Don’t worry about it now. I was young. I desperately wanted someone in my corner for a change. Then I figured out that no one was going to do that but me, so I became my own best supporter. We were just wrong for each other.” He gave her a wink. “Now we’re old enough to know better, aren’t we?”

  She didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter. He walked to a closet in the bathroom and took out a pillow and blanket. Even Romeo deserted her, following his master. That was her signal to scram, and she did so gracefully. She paused in the doorway, watching Sam lay out the blanket and punch the pillow into compliance.

  “Good night, Sam.”

  He looked up and smiled. “Good night, Maxine.” Then he dropped down on the couch and disappeared from her sight.

  She stayed there for a moment, listening to the music and accompanying crackle of the fire. A gnawing ache filled her as she pictured Sam as a young man in love, disappointed with his materialistic wife and maybe even the world in general. Did his family act the same way, trying to make him into something he wasn’t? Sam was…well, Sam. She’d always loved him just the way he was.

  Loving someone didn’t mean changing them. Sometimes he was too cynical, but now she knew why. She loved his sloppy ways at work, his impulsiveness, and even the cynical side of him. She had been the kind of woman who would have given him the support and acceptance he’d once needed.

  Her gaze went to the picture, although she could only see a dim reflection where the picture was. Jennie had been perfect for Sam, and she’d never let him know how much she respected him. She’d never known how important it was to him.

  Wait a minute. Had she actually thought that, that Jennie was perfect for Sam? The truth of it slammed into her stomach. Sam never saw the wheelchair or her plain looks. He had seen only her; maybe he’d seen her respect, too. What a fool she’d been. If she’d told him how she felt back then…no, it was too late for that. If she kept thinking about the irony of it all, she’d drive herself crazy.

  After taking her bra off the hard way, she removed her leggings and fell into bed with her shirt on. The light from the nightstand caught her diamond and made it glitter. She looked at it, turning it this way and that. It was nice, but not her style. She wanted to take it off permanently, but she didn’t want to alienate herself from Armand yet. For now she could take it off and put it on the nightstand.

  From the way the sheets were rumpled, she could tell which side of the bed Sam usually slept on. Snuggling under the sheets and blanket, she lay there wondering why it seemed he was right there next to her. It was like she was snuggled against his chest again. She rolled over on her side, burrowing down into the spongy pillow. That was why. These were Sam’s sheets, and he had slept right where she was now. She inhaled, holding in the scent of him for as long as she could. Then she smiled. Oh, Sam. Let me try again.

  CHAPTER 7

  SAM HAD spent the night shifting and moving around more than a couple of mambo dancers during an all-night dance-a-thon. He’d wake up and wonder where he was. Then he’d figure that out and remember why he was on the couch. Then the awareness that Maxine was a few yards away crept over him, making him feel out of sorts. He’d drift back to sleep only to have the cycle happen all over again a while later.

  He woke up at his usual time, six o’clock sharp. Through the cracks between the screens he could barely make out her form lying there in his bed. It had been a long time since she’d been in his bed. Sex had never been their problem. Something in his body warmed at that thought, but he squelched it. It’s Maxine, remember? Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. Not again.

  There was something different about her, though, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. That’s what bugged him, more than her being there with him instead of wanting to be with her fiancé. She still wore the nice clothing but hadn’t once commented on going shopping with Sharee or the lack of accommodations his place offered; hadn’t fussed with her face for hours before going to bed. She hadn’t even complained about the prospect of riding around in his rattle-trap all day. In fact, she’d seemed thrilled at the prospect.

  Then there was a light in her eyes that made him want to reach out and touch her cheek every time she aimed it at him. He hadn’t even felt that way when they were married. What was the deal with her asking whether she’d broken his heart? She didn’t want to be bothered with knowing that kind of thing. It didn’t make sense, and his investigative mind was going nuts trying to figure it out.

  That speech she’d given him when she’d arrived…he shook his h
ead. Now that wasn’t Maxine at all. Because as much as he wanted to think she was doing all this for her protection, the fire in her eyes told him something much more.

  He washed up, then tiptoed into his room to get his clothes. Romeo was lying on the floor by her side of the bed. Traitor. Well, half traitor. He had spent half the night out in the living room with Sam, and half the night here with her. Just like he’d done at the office, splitting his time between Sam and Jennie.

  He cleared away that thought and looked at the woman Romeo—silly dog—seemed so crazy about. She was hugging one pillow, her hands tucked beneath her cheek. One long leg had escaped the sheets, and her red-tipped toes were slightly curled. Her red hair and creamy skin contrasted the black sheets vividly, making her look like an art form someone had carefully arranged. Something twisted inside him at the sight of her lying there like that. Strangely, it was the same kind of feeling he’d had that day he’d walked out of his office to give something to Jennie. When she’d turned around with that beguiling smile of hers, he’d just frozen up. It felt the same, yet that was Jennie and this was Maxine. Big difference.

  He forced his gaze away and pulled down a shirt and pants from the hangers, then opened the bottom drawer for a pair of socks. That’s when he found her under things taking up half the drawer. There was something oddly intimate about his socks mingling with her panties.

  He picked up a pair of pink lace things, trying to figure out which way was front. Neither side looked big enough to accommodate her rear. Unless…he shook the image of her bare bottom with the lace strip going up the center right out of his mind and dropped the garment as if it had burned his hand.

  “Good morning,” she said, making him jump to a standing position and feel like a teenager caught doing something illicit.

  “Just getting my socks,” he said, kicking the drawer closed. Good grief, had she seen him fondling her underwear? No, she’d have a cocky grin on her face. Instead she looked more like an…angel. It must be her tangled halo of red hair that surrounded her sleepy expression.

  “You’re allowed. They are your drawers, after all.” She leaned over the side of the bed. “Good morning, Romeo.” Her fingers stroked beneath his chin, and the damned dog looked like he was in Heaven with his eyes rolled upward. Sam supposed he’d be doing the same thing if she was stroking him like that. Good grief, where were these thoughts coming from?

  She slid from beneath the sheets, showing her nice legs beneath the long shirt that barely covered what might be another pair of those little lacy things. The white socks she wore gave her a girlish look that set his mind back on track. She stood beside him and went through the small section of her clothes. That was another unMaxine-like thing: she never went anywhere without half her wardrobe, which had to be quadruple what it had been when he was supporting her. She usually took half an hour just to get out of bed. Maxine had never been a morning person.

  “I’m going to take a shower. When do you want to leave?” she asked.

  Oh, no. He doubted her hour-long morning ritual had changed. “No more than thirty minutes from now.” He readied himself for her petulance.

  “Okay.” She gave him a sweet, sleepy smile and headed off into the bathroom.

  He followed her out of the bedroom. “Okay, someone kidnapped Maxine and replaced her with an alien.”

  Her smile disappeared. “What do you mean?”

  “I was just kidding. I’ve never heard you agree to be ready in less than an hour.”

  He was rewarded with another of her smiles. “Told you I wouldn’t be any trouble.” She turned back around and closed the door behind her.

  He absently rubbed his stomach with one hand, perhaps hoping to rub away the strange feeling churning inside him. This was absolutely, outrageously ridiculous. She was getting to him, or at least to his physical side. There was something about her. Something. Romeo stared up at him, panting with his tongue hanging out.

  “Yeah, well, she’s getting to you, too,” he murmured, then turned and went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He just hoped he had enough milk to support her new coffee drinking preference. A ribbon of melancholy wrapped around his insides. Jennie had always put a lot of cream in her coffee. He’d teased her about it: “You like a little coffee with your cream, eh?” She’d even brought in those fancy creamers with French Vanilla flavors. He pushed the thought away and set out two cups.

  “Smells good,” she said, coming around the corner towel-drying her hair. The wet tendrils framed her face, and in his large robe and without makeup on, she looked like a young girl. She reached for the carton of milk, then paused. “You don’t happen to have any French Vanilla or Irish Cream, do you? No, probably not, forget I asked.”

  She poured the milk in, leaving Sam to wonder if she’d somehow learned mind reading in the last few years. She stirred in some sugar, then looked up at him.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He looked away, wondering if the ache would ever go away. Then he looked back at her. “Since when do you start using fancy creamers in your coffee? What’s wrong with regular cream? Why cream at all? You used to drink the stuff black, and now, all of a sudden you want vanilla cream.” He blew out a breath, knowing he sounded anal and knowing he couldn’t explain his irritation to her. Maybe someone sent her there to drive him crazy. Somebody who knew his inner torment, someone who—

  She touched his shoulder, sending warmth through his veins the way a good shot of scotch might. “What’s wrong, Sam? Talk to me.”

  He opened his mouth, then realized he was about to say something about Jennie. He couldn’t share that with Maxine. Or with anyone. “Do you ever wonder why some people are taken so far before their time? Kids, people on the edge of a great career…Jennie.”

  Her hand was still on his arm, fingers tightening slightly when he spoke. How would she know that kind of pain? She’d never lost anyone close to her. She had drifted away from her parents long before they ever died.

  She just stared at him for a moment, and when she spoke, it was carefully, with much thought. “Yes, I wonder. But Sam…do you ever wonder if those people ever get to come back? In someone else’s body maybe?”

  He looked at her as if she was two straps away from a strait jacket. “You’re kidding.”

  “I was just wondering. You’re always wondering. So am I.” She shrugged. “You obviously think it’s crazy.”

  “Of course I do. What kind of world would this be if everyone jumped around from one body to another?”

  She looked downward. “Well, it wouldn’t necessarily be everyone. Just a few people who maybe didn’t get to realize their dreams the first time around. Oh, never mind, Sam. It was just something to say.”

  Her hand was still on his. And she wasn’t wearing that rock of an engagement ring.

  “Don’t forget your ring,” he said.

  She removed her hand. “Oh. Maybe I’ll leave it off today.”

  “Actually, I was thinking that you should have dinner with Armand and his family tonight.” She honestly looked ill at that suggestion. “With me, of course. I’d like to meet James and Sally. Get a feel for the situation over there.”

  Her face relaxed. “Well, I guess. I suppose I should call him anyway.”

  He handed her the portable phone. “Do you want anything for breakfast?”

  She was looking at the phone with a trace of dread. When she realized he was talking to her, she covered it with a smile. “Whatever you’re having.”

  “Same thing I’ve always had.”

  “That’s fine.”

  She punched in the numbers. “Hello, Aida. Let me speak to Armand, please. Yes, I know he’s upset. I’m sure he appreciates that you’re so protective of him. Now may I please talk to him?”

  A minute later, he must have picked up. “I’m fine. … Yes, I stayed at Sam’s. … Well, as a matter of fact, I did, but he wasn’t in it. … No, I can’t do that. Listen, I’d like to have dinner with you tonig
ht. And Sally and James. Of course, I miss you,” she pushed out the words. “Yes, he’ll be there, too. He is my bodyguard. What good would he do if he’s not guarding my…body.” Sam swore her face flushed at that. “Okay, we’ll see you tonight.”

  He busied himself with chopping up bananas and putting them into the blender along with a few other ingredients. Then he poured in the milk and let the blades fly. A minute later, he stopped the racket and poured the yellow mixture into two glasses. He turned around and handed one to her.

  She held it up to the light, inspecting the contents. “What’s in here?”

  “Bananas, milk, honey, and whole grain. Just like always.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said unconvincingly. “These were great.” She took a drink.

  He crossed his arms. “You hated it.”

  She took another sip, not meeting his gaze. “I know that. I figured I’d try it again, and you know what? It’s not too bad. Just …strange. What? Why are you grinning at me like that?”

  “You have a milk mustache.” He leaned over and ran his finger over the curve of her upper lip. Why’d he do that for? Because he didn’t know what else to do, he stuck his finger in his mouth. “You’d better get ready. We’ve got to head out.”

  She was looking at him, wavering. With a blink, she broke eye contact and walked back to the bedroom without saying anything. So he’d touched her lip? Big deal. He’d done that before. Hadn’t he?

  Maxine ran her finger over her lip the same way Sam had just done. For him, it probably meant nothing, but that simple act had touched her beyond belief. Her stomach still curled at the thought. She finished up the banana shake and went into the bathroom to get changed. The mirror had been steamy before, but now she could see herself clearly. Though Maxine’s looks were completely different than Jennie’s, one thing remained the same: that light in her eyes whenever she was around Sam. She leaned forward and put on eyeliner, then a bit of color on her cheeks. Maxine-the-first had enough makeup in her tote bag to open a store, but the basics were enough. Even if Sam did go for those made-up dolls, Maxine couldn’t force herself to be something she simply wasn’t.