Delaney's Shadow

by Ingrid Weaver

  It was as fitting a place for this meeting as any. Their conversation wouldn’t carry far over the atrocious music, and because it was midafternoon, the restaurant was almost empty. A group of teenage girls sat in a booth beside the front window. A few tables to their left, a young couple was valiantly feeding dishes of ice cream to a pair of squealing toddlers. Although Delaney had asked her companion to give them privacy, he had gone only as far as the next table. He sat slouched in his chair, his long legs stretched in front of him and his arms crossed over his chest. The relaxed pose didn’t fool Elizabeth. He was as alert as a hungry watchdog.

  John Harrison had been a surprise. She wouldn’t have expected her Pollyanna stepmother to have gone for a man like that. His attire might be civilized, but his demeanor was far from it. Elizabeth was accustomed to dealing with powerful men. Her father had been one of them. The aura of power around John was different, though. Much of it was sexual, to be sure, yet there was an edginess about him, a current of danger that fascinated as well as repelled. Judging by the giggles and furtive stares being cast his way, the teenagers beside the window had noticed it as well.

  Leave it to Delaney not to waste any time. So much for her supposed devotion to her late husband. She and John had made holding hands on a park bench look like foreplay. Elizabeth had been on her way from the airport through town to the Wainright House when she’d spotted her stepmother in the park. The couple had been so completely absorbed in each other, they’d had a circle of stillness around them that had caught her eye even from the street. At least ten feet of space separated Delaney from John now, yet the connection between them was almost palpable.

  Why was it always so easy for Delaney? What was it about her that drew men in? She never had to work for it. She never had to prove herself. She was weak and useless, the antithesis of everything Elizabeth had been raised to value, yet she managed to come out on top.

  It wasn’t fair.

  “Why are you in Willowbank, Elizabeth? You realize there’s a restraining order against you, don’t you?”

  “I’m fully aware of your latest salvo, Delaney. Your lawyer saw to it that I would be informed in the most public way possible to ensure maximum humiliation and damage to my reputation.”

  Her eyes widened. “What do you mean? What happened?”

  “Save the innocent act for someone who would buy it.”

  “It’s no act. Tell me. What did Leo do?”

  “Besides spreading rumors about my mental competency among not only my staff but my clients?”

  “He questioned people about your slander against me. He didn’t spread rumors.”

  Either she was lying, or she was totally oblivious of Throop’s actions. Neither possibility reflected well on her. “You can’t dispute the fact that he brought an armed police escort with him to interrupt a meeting with the Grayecorp board and inform me my movements have been restricted like a criminal’s. There was no cause to put on a show like that. As far as I’m concerned, that qualifies as harassment, yet you have the audacity to accuse me of the same.”

  “Audacity? You sent me accident scene photographs of your own father.”

  “I did nothing of the kind!”

  John was on his feet the instant she raised her voice. He put his hand on the back of her chair. That was all. He didn’t say anything. His presence was message enough.

  She strove to hang on to her temper. Getting into a shouting match was beneath her dignity. She had to control her emotions better than this. She smoothed a wrinkle from her sleeve, then clasped her hands on the table. “I did not send you any photographs,” she said. “It was obviously a clumsy attempt to incriminate me.”

  “Did you try to run me down?”

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  “Then how did your car get damaged?”

  “It was a parking lot mishap. Apart from the fact that I wouldn’t stoop to such thuggish tactics, it’s ridiculous for anyone to assume I would drive all the way to Willowbank. My time is far too valuable for that.”

  “I want to believe you, Elizabeth, I really do. I hate to think you’re this troubled.”

  “Unlike you, Delaney, I am fully capable of recognizing the truth. All I want is what’s rightfully mine.”

  “No, that’s not all. You also want to hurt me.”

  Elizabeth could feel the vibrations travel from her seat to her spine as John tightened his grasp on her chair. She twisted to look at him. “Your lurking is getting tiresome.”

  He studied her, his gaze probing hers.

  She curled her toes in her shoes in an effort to remain motionless. It was difficult to maintain eye contact, but she was loath to show weakness by being the first to break it. “If you believe glowering will intimidate me, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  “Your father was a real son of a bitch,” he said. “Persecuting Delaney isn’t going to change that. Save your anger for him.”

  The jab stunned her. It was astoundingly accurate and was the last thing she would have expected from a piece of eye candy. She swallowed her pride and glanced away before he could look any deeper. “For a total stranger, he presumes to know a great deal about me. What carnival did you find him in, Delaney?”

  John slid into the chair beside Delaney. Though he didn’t touch her, she seemed to draw support from his presence. A look passed between them that shut Elizabeth out entirely. It was almost as intense as what she’d seen on the park bench.

  She envied their obvious closeness, and she resented the fact that she envied it. He undoubtedly had an agenda, as all men did. He was likely after Delaney’s fortune the same way Alan hoped to further his career by inveigling his way into Elizabeth’s life.

  The thought of Alan wrenched her back on track. She drummed her nails against the Formica table to recapture Delaney’s attention. “My father didn’t raise a fool. Although he taught me to use any means necessary to achieve my goal, he also taught me to keep my personal feelings out of business decisions. As much as I despise you, I would not stoop to causing you physical harm. It wouldn’t be remotely as satisfying as ruining you. If you persist in flinging groundless accusations against me, I won’t hesitate to sue you for slander.”

  “It isn’t slander if it’s true.”

  “Which is why you can’t win.”

  “I’ve remembered more of what happened, Elizabeth,” she said. “I’ve realized how Stanford used my need to be loved to manipulate me. I also know that he manipulated you into helping him. That’s why you tricked me into meeting him that final night.”

  “Your so-called amnesia is too convenient for anyone to believe. I don’t suppose you’ve also remembered my father was changing his will?” She paused. “No? What a surprise.”

  “Your goal was to break up our marriage. That’s why you told me about his affair with Jenna. That’s why I believed you when you’d said you would help me leave him.”

  “You have so little imagination. My goal wasn’t to break up your marriage. You were leverage, that’s all.”

  “What do you mean by leverage?”

  “I threatened to reveal my father’s adultery unless he agreed to a public reconciliation and amended his will. He was so confident of his hold over you that he called my bluff. That’s why I told you about Jenna.”

  “My God,” she said slowly. “You tried to blackmail your own father.”

  She picked up her glass, wiped the rim, and took a sip of the soda she didn’t really want, buying time to steady her nerves. “I didn’t merely try; I succeeded. Your ensuing temper tantrum provided the advantage I needed. We reopened our negotiations. I won. He agreed to all my demands. In return, I gave him the opportunity to recover one of his prized possessions.”

  “You really are two of a kind.”

  “It was just business. You’re the one who made it personal when you drove his car into that utility pole before he could meet with his lawyer.”

  “How many times do I need to tell you that it was an acci
dent? I didn’t—”

  “You didn’t help him. You left him to burn in the wreckage while you saved yourself. That was no accident.”

  She regarded her hands. Her fingers trembled. “Why did you come here today, Elizabeth? What did you hope to gain?”

  “I came to give you a warning.”

  John stiffened.

  She ignored him and kept her gaze on Delaney. “I brought my lawsuit because it was the only recourse left to me after you refused to abide by my father’s wishes. Until now, I’ve been willing to restrict our fight to the courts, but your attempt to take away Grayecorp has crossed the line.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing. In spite of our differences, I’ve always valued your role in the company.”

  Elizabeth knew that Delaney didn’t even understand her role in the company. She was a brainless trophy wife whose only accomplishment had been outliving her husband. “Don’t insult my intelligence. Your lawyer’s actions speak for themselves. It’s unwise to start a war with me, Delaney. Grayecorp is mine, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it.”

  “If this is only about the money, I’ll gladly give you a share of Stanford’s estate.”

  The glass slipped before Elizabeth could set it down. It banged on the table, sloshing club soda on the bundle of napkin-wrapped cutlery and sending a stream across the table toward her. She took a tissue from her purse to stem the flow before it could drip on her lap. “What game are you playing now?”

  “No game. I never wanted Stanford’s wealth. I don’t want the house, either. What I do want is to stop this antagonism before it escalates out of control. Stanford shouldn’t have cut you out of his will in the first place. It was hurtful.”

  It had been more than hurtful; it had been a public rejection of his only child. It had negated a lifetime of devotion and sacrifice and hope. He’d hit her where he’d known it would cause the most pain.

  But the situation was already spiraling out of control. Even if she managed to hold on to her position at Grayecorp, she had Alan and his ambitions to contend with. She mashed her fingertips into the sodden tissue. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “It’s not sudden, Elizabeth. I used to hope we could be friends, but your need for revenge is turning you into someone I don’t recognize.”

  That must be how she did it, Elizabeth thought. That was how Delaney managed to charm otherwise canny people. She zeroed in on their weaknesses almost as skillfully as Stanford used to. It was a form of emotional judo: analyzing an opponent’s center of balance, applying pressure to the precise spot that would tip it, and using their own momentum to defeat them.

  Friendship. Love. The concepts belonged in children’s stories. The real world didn’t work that way, regardless of how fervently a person might wish it could.

  She turned her mind back to business. The question remained: what did Delaney hope to gain with this offer? “You’re afraid of what will come out in court, aren’t you? That’s why you want to settle. You’ve known all along it was your fault that he died.”

  “No, Elizabeth. I just want the nightmare to end.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  IT BEGAN AS IT ALWAYS DID. DELANEY SAW THE ROAD through the tunnel of her headlights. It was slick and shiny and seemed to go on forever, but all too soon it narrowed. She was going too fast. The branches tore at her face and her clothes as she hurtled forward.

  A weight settled on the bed behind her.

  Even through her panic, she knew who it was. Max had come. He would keep her safe.

  The fireball glowed in the distance. Mud spread beneath it, curling its tentacles toward the bed.

  “It’s okay, Deedee.”

  “Help me. Make it stop!”

  He slid his arm around her waist and touched her hand. “Hang on to me. We’ll go together.”

  She laced her fingers with his and tried to pull him back from the inferno. The fire was clawing toward him as well as her. She didn’t want him to be hurt again. This was her fault. “It’s coming. Can’t you smell it?”

  “We’ll take a detour.”

  “How?”

  “This time, we’re going past the pond, okay?”

  The path became a black ribbon, reflecting the flames as they writhed overhead. It held her feet fast. Her legs wouldn’t move. “Max!”

  “We’re going past the car wreck, too,” he said. His breath warmed her cheek. “He can’t keep you anymore. You left him behind.”

  “The mud—”

  “I already saved you from it, remember?”

  “I can’t breathe!”

  The mattress shifted, as if he had pushed himself up. He leaned over her and took her chin in his hand. “Then I’d better help you again.”

  The kiss was like sunrise. It sent air to her lungs and streams of light through the darkness, just as it had the first time his mouth had touched hers. The water receded. The mud shrank away. Next to the brightness of her link with Max, the flames paled to nothingness.

  No metal crashed. No bones broke like celery. No screams clawed at her heart. Her toes sank into cool moss. A blue jay squawked overhead. They had gone past the car wreck and the pond and were standing beneath the drooping boughs of a willow.

  The scope of the change stunned her. Max hadn’t merely pulled her out of the nightmare; he’d managed to avert it.

  He kissed her cheek. “Better?”

  She nodded, turning her head to follow his mouth.

  A laugh tickled her lips. “I take it that’s a yes.”

  “Thank you, Max.”

  He swept her up in his arms and carried her deeper into the woods. The trees opened up to a familiar field of wildflowers. “Don’t be too grateful. You did most of it yourself.”

  “How?”

  “You left him. You broke his hold over you.”

  He meant Stanford. God, she hoped it was true. “Is he really gone?”

  Max laid her on a patch of sun-warmed grass and curled behind her once more. He fit his chest to her back and his thighs beneath hers. “We’re the only two around, aren’t we?”

  She relaxed within the shelter of his presence, content for the moment to let her mind drift with his. She’d lost track of the number of times he had appeared to her in her dreams. This was the first time he’d done it since she’d known he was real. “I’m glad you’re here, Max.”

  He kissed the nape of her neck. “Good. Hold that thought.”

  Their mental bond was strengthening now that she was consciously exercising it as well. That must be why his embrace felt so vivid.

  That was her last thought before sleep blanketed her once more. It was approaching dawn when she surfaced again. She was back in her bedroom, warm and safe in her bed. She yawned and arched her back in a sleepy stretch.

  Max’s presence hadn’t dimmed. It still surrounded her. It suffused her with a sensation of well-being and rightness. She closed her eyes to enjoy the feelings as long as she could.

  Was the nightmare truly over? It seemed too easy. She’d lived with it for more than half a year.

  Yet as Max had told her, she was breaking Stanford’s hold, wasn’t she? Settling with Elizabeth would go a long way toward that, as would facing the truth about her own mistakes. Like her fear of the water, knowledge was the key to overcoming it.

  So was Max. He wasn’t her subconscious, but in some ways, he knew her better than she knew herself. She was finally beginning to know him, too. Yes, there were issues between them that they hadn’t even begun to deal with. In spite of that, he’d come to her when she’d needed him. His heart couldn’t be as hardened as he wanted her to believe.

  Even now that she was awake, she could sense the firmness of his body behind hers. The illusion was so strong, she felt the rise and fall of his chest against her back and the tickle of his breath across her ear. His weight was compressing the mattress, forming a dip beside the place where she lay. His fingers were toying with the hem of her nightgown.

  She blin
ked and looked down.

  The light that filtered through the bedroom window was too weak to define colors. It was too dim to dispel the shadows in the corners of the room, but enough spilled across the bed to reveal Max’s hand on her thigh. His wrist rested along her hip. His arm flexed as he crumpled her nightgown in his fingers.

  He had physically moved the satin.

  “Good morning, Deedee.”

  And his whisper hadn’t been in her head.

  She broke free of his grasp and turned over.

  Max was stretched out on his side, his head propped on his bent arm. His hair was even messier than usual, falling over his forehead as well as sticking up around his head in sleep-tangled tufts. A night’s worth of beard stubble darkened his jaw and cheeks. His pale shirt was partially unbuttoned. The sides hung loosely against his chest. Faded, washed-soft jeans hugged his hips and molded his legs.

  He smiled. “It’s about time you woke up.”

  He was no fantasy. She doubted whether she would have been able to create one to match what she was seeing now. “Max!”

  He placed his finger against her lips. “Shh. The walls in this old place are thick, but not that thick. Getting interrupted by a curious grandmother would kill the mood.”

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered furiously.

  “Funny how you’re always asking me that.”

  “It’s not funny. How did you get in?” She glanced past him to the door. It was closed. Had he materialized?

  He laughed softly. “I don’t need to be in your head to see what you’re thinking. No, Deedee, if I was able to get here through the power of my mind, I wouldn’t have bothered putting on clothes.”

  “Then how . . .”

  “I walked here.”

  “You walked here? In the middle of the night?”

  “I had insomnia.”

  “And you just happened to wander inside and up to my room?”