by JB Lynn
“No. I’ll just tell them I’m sick.”
She frowned. “Trust me. You don’t want to do that. They won’t leave you alone.”
I needed to be left alone if I was going to pull off the Krout job, so grudgingly opened my eyes.
“Where do we shower?”
“You don’t want to do that now.”
“Why? Because it’s question time?” I snapped.
“No,” Gladys replied calmly, “because everyone is trying to shower now. If you go later, you’ll at least have a chance of getting some hot water.”
“Is there anything you haven’t thought of?” I asked appreciatively.
She shook her head and sighed sadly. “It would be better to ask if there’s anything I haven’t already done wrong.”
“Hey,” I murmured, “we all make mistakes.”
Something flickered in her eyes, but then she turned away.
An hour later, I’d decided that attending the morning question session was a mistake. Listening to Father Vanpelt ask the attendees who they needed to forgive made me feel like I was in my own special hell. I sincerely wished I’d dragged God along so that he too could have been tortured, but he’d refused to come out from under the bed where he’d slept.
When participants started actually answering Vanpelt—my ex-husband, my sister, my neighbor, my boss, my mother, the kid who called me four-eyes in second grade—my stomach roiled.
Thankfully Millie, Linda, and Donna had chosen a seat closer to the front of the room (probably to ensure their place on the buffet line) so at least I didn’t gag when they started on about how they had to forgive their imperfect friends.
I could see Gladys’ shoulders shaking as Linda gushed about what a gift the whole process was.
I elbowed her to warn her that Shirley was giving us a hard stare and Gladys grew still.
Strangely, a sense of guilt engulfed me for hushing a woman who was already silent most of the time. For all I knew, she was at the retreat to have her “inner voice” heard. I made a mental note to apologize to her later, but when the question was over, she went to yoga, while I went back to the cabin to check on God.
Since breakfast had consisted of some slimy stuff that was supposed to pass for oatmeal, I thought the diet gods wouldn’t be too offended if I grabbed a couple of oatmeal cookies and ate those instead.
I was thinking about the sweet delicious crunchiness of those oatmeal cookies when I pushed open the cabin door, which is why the shadowy figure of a man lurking in the shadows caught me off-guard. But I’m a semi-trained assassin now, so I grabbed the nearest weapon, which happened to be the wine bottle I’d helped Gladys polish off the night before, and chucked it at his head.
He ducked and it shattered against the wall. I need more practice with my ninja throwing skills.
“Easy, Mags,” he chuckled.
Patrick.
He popped a wintergreen Lifesaver into his mouth and silently offered me one.
I refused with a shake of my head.
“Someone’s a little on edge.” Crouching down, he began to pick up the shards of glass while he crunched on his hard candy.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I whisper-screamed, my heart beating a mile a minute from the scare.
“An excellent question,” God opined from where he lay on my pillow.
To Patrick, God’s voice sounded like a squeak. He looked in the direction of the sound and saw the lizard sprawled out. “You brought the little guy!”
God’s response was to turn his back on the redhead.
“You shouldn’t go sneaking up on people like that,” I berated Patrick.
Putting the glass he’d gathered into the lone wastebasket, he replied calmly, “I wasn’t sneaking. I was waiting.”
I stomped my foot. “Waiting to give me a heart attack?”
A lazy smile drifted over his face. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”
I wished I had something else to throw at his head.
Unaware of my violent thoughts, he stepped toward me. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”
“No,” I answered honestly.
“Not even a little?” he cajoled, closing the distance between us.
I shook my head stubbornly, refusing to tilt my head back to look at him.
Gently lifting my chin, he raised my head, looking into my eyes. “I’m sorry I startled you.”
“I’m sorry my aim wasn’t better,” I countered defiantly.
He threw back his head and laughed. Then he skimmed his thumb along my lower lip, a devilish gleam in his green gaze. “The things that come out of this mouth.”
Lowering his head slowly so I knew what his intention was and could have avoided him if I’d really want to, he claimed my lips with his. The kiss curled my toes and made me desperate for more, but he pulled away too soon.
A mewl of protest escaped me, even though I knew he was right. This wasn’t the time or place to go pulling each other’s clothes off.
He pulled my head against his shoulder and cradled me in a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist and almost melted as the heat from his body flowed into mine. I closed my eyes and could smell his cologne, the mint on his breath, and… bacon? Did I smell bacon?
“Did you bring me breakfast?” I asked hopefully, jerking my head back to look at his handsome face.
“The way to my girl’s heart is through her stomach.” He kissed the tip of my nose.
Something inside me twisted, warmed, and bloomed to life as I realized he’d called me his girl.
“Bacon and egg sandwich.” Releasing me, he returned to the corner he’d been hiding in and pulled out a foil-wrapped bundle.
I snatched it out of his hands and tore open the packaging like a rabid dog that hadn’t eaten for days. I’d wolfed down a quarter of the sandwich before I realized I should convey my gratitude.
“Tank ooo,” I said through a mouthful of cholesterol-laden goodness.
Patrick sat down on my bed and patted the spot beside him. “You’re welcome.”
“Don’t you dare sit on me,” God warned, flicking his tail, while I prepared to lower my butt to the mattress.
The sandwich had put me in such a beneficent mood that I just smiled at him.
I swallowed before speaking again. “Want half?” I offered Patrick, hoping he didn’t hear the grudging note in my voice. I really didn’t want to share.
“Already ate.” He reached into the front pocket of the jeans he wore. “I brought you something.”
I took another bite of the sandwich and actually chewed and swallowed like a civilized person.
He pulled out a small, round metal pillbox. He opened it and showed me that it contained two tiny tablets.
“You always bring me the nicest things,” I joked.
“I can take the sandwich back,” he threatened.
“Don’t you dare.”
He chuckled, but then grew serious. “Krout likes his martinis shaken, not stirred.”
I wondered if that was code for something, so I remained silent.
“Put one pill in his martini shaker and the job is all but done,” Patrick elaborated. “You don’t even need to be there. It’s a drop-and-go job. If you’re still intent on doing it.”
“He’s still alive?”
The redhead tilted his head to the side. “You heard about that?”
“I saw it.” I told him about my previous night’s adventure, leaving out the part about how deeply the pornography had affected me.
Patrick studied me for a long moment and I found myself wondering why I ever tried to hide anything from him. “If it’s too much for you ”
I shook my head defiantly. This was one job I actually wanted to do. “Who’s my competition?”
Patrick shrugged. “The guy you saw last night was the father of one of Krout’s victims. Guy had too much to drink and decided to avenge his kid.”
“Can’t blame him,” I murmured, remembering the
video I’d glimpsed.
“You shouldn’t take the job personally,” Patrick warned. “You could make a mistake.”
I lifted my chin. “So why two pills if I only need one to do the job?”
He looked away and seemed to choose his words carefully. “In case you drop one.”
The man knew me too well.
The distant chiming of a bell startled me.
“Crap!” I jumped to my feet. “It’s sharing time.”
“Sharing time?” he mocked.
“I’ve got to go. I’ll attract attention if I don’t show up for any of the events.” I thought of Shirley’s disapproving stare. “I don’t want to do that.”
“Go,” he said, pressing the pillbox into my palm.
“Take me,” God ordered. “I’m losing my mind here with nothing to do.
I scooped up the lizard with my other hand, and headed for the door, but skidded to a stop. I turned back to Patrick. “I forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
“To thank you. For everything. For this.” I shook the pillbox. “For the sandwich, but most of all for…” I trailed off.
He tilted his head. “For…?”
“Being you.” With that, I spun back around, yanked open the door, and ran away from the cabin.
I shoved the pillbox into the pocket of my jeans, and the lizard down my shirt as I jogged toward the dining hall for sharing time.
“Thank you for being you,” God mocked from my chest.
“I can’t believe I said that,” I muttered, feeling like an idiot. A flush of embarrassment spread through me as I wondered what Patrick had thought about my declaration.
Then I decided I really didn’t want to know.
Gladys was waiting for me by the door. She looked at me strangely and pressed a cool hand to my hot cheek.
“I didn’t want to be late so I ran,” I explained, even though that wasn’t the reason why my cheeks were burning.
She offered me a bottle of water and then indicated that I should follow her. I was thrilled when I didn’t spot Millie, Linda, or Donna in the hall.
Together we made our way to a table at the back of the room just as Shirley started droning on about how the point of sharing time was to make ourselves vulnerable so that we could tap into our inner strength.
I was pretty sure I heard God snore.
Chapter 22
The theme of sharing time was again forgiveness, but this time it was about who we needed to forgive us.
I had to hand it to Armani, for once her Scrabble letter prediction had been right on the money.
Two hours later, I was pretty sure Gladys and I were the only two participants who hadn’t shared, and I felt the watchful gazes of Father Vanpelt and Shirley on me.
Deciding I needed to keep my cover intact by making a show of participating, I cautiously raised my hand when Shirley asked if there was anything anyone wanted to add before we concluded the session.
“This should be good,” God whispered.
Gladys, who heard the muted squeak, looked at me sharply, but no one else had seemed to notice the strange noise coming from my chest.
“Yes?” Shirley acknowledged me with a nod of my head.
I folded my hands under the table, knitting my fingers tightly together. Suddenly nervous about making myself vulnerable in front of these strangers, an uncomfortable pressure settled in my chest and my throat constricted. I choked out, “I’d like my niece—”
“Speak up,” Shirley interrupted.
I cleared my throat. “I’d like my niece to forgive me for things I haven’t even done yet.”
A dull roar of excited murmuring filled the room. No one else had wanted forgiveness for future deeds. I closed my eyes, wishing I’d come up with something a little less honest to share.
“Go on,” Shirley urged.
Gladys patted my back, offering silent support.
I forced my eyes open and stared at a heart carved into the table. “That’s all I’ve got.”
“You believe you’re going to wrong her?” Father Vanpelt asked, striding toward me from the back of the room.
I shrugged, not taking my eyes off the heart. “I’m doomed to.”
Vanpelt tilted his head to the side and studied me carefully. “And why is that?”
I felt like a witness on the stand in some bad legal drama and had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from yelling, “Objection, Your Honor!”
Vanpelt tapped his foot impatiently.
“My sister was a good mom,” I began slowly. “She wasn’t perfect, but she was good at it. She wanted to be a mother. But now she’s dead and I’m going to be the only mother Katie has and I just know I won’t be good at it.” I drew in a shuddering breath and finished in a rush. “I know I’m going to screw up a million things and I need her to forgive me for all of them.”
Vanpelt nodded his understanding, his gaze sympathetic.
Around me, I heard soft murmurs and sniffling. Finally lifting my gaze from the surface of the table, I saw that a number of people were blinking away tears.
Gruff Shirley had somehow shown up at my side. “Your niece is a lucky girl to have someone who loves her so much and is so worried about her future.”
I swallowed hard as a painful lump lodged in my throat. “Thank you.”
“No,” Father Vanpelt. “Thank you for sharing. You’ve given us all a lot to think about.”
The dining hall erupted in spontaneous applause.
I suddenly felt like a rock star.
A naked, vulnerable rock star.
I looked to Gladys, the closest thing I had to a friend there, needing to feel grounded.
She rolled her eyes at me and pretended to gag herself by sticking her finger in mouth.
Suddenly, I felt a lot better.
As Vanpelt made an announcement about the rest of the day’s activities, Gladys grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the dining room. Together we ran back to our cabin before the rest of the trampling horde escaped.
We’d almost made it to our door, when three people came out of nowhere. We all crashed into one another, ending up in a pile on the ground.
It took a moment to get ourselves sorted, but when we did, I realized we’d collided with Millie, Linda, and Donna.
Donna looked pissed.
Linda looked worried.
Millie took charge, getting to her feet first. “Sorry about that,” she said breezily. “We hadn’t realized sharing time was over.”
I slowly stood up. My gut telling me that something was wrong.
I glanced at Gladys and saw that she was staring at three red gasoline containers lying on the ground.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“What are you looking at?” Donna sneered menacingly, as she picked up two of the cans.
“We can explain,” Linda began in a small voice, but then trailed off as both Millie and Donna gave her a warning look.
I moved slowly to stand by Gladys, who struggled to get to her feet. “Did we miss marshmallow roasting time?”
“That’s not until tomorrow night,” Gladys piped up from behind me.
The other three women stared at her, as though surprised she could speak.
Donna looked at Millie. “So much for your perfect plan.”
Millie sighed. “If we don’t do something about them…” The three women moved to form a trap around Gladys and I.
Instinctively, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my spoon, keeping it hidden in my hand. It wasn’t much of a self-defense weapon, but it was all I had.
“Eyes. Nose. Throat. Groin,” I muttered, reminding myself of an attacker’s most vulnerable body parts.
Gladys and I turned so that our backs were to each other, ready to defend ourselves.
“You might want to get out of here,” I whispered.
Gladys, thinking I was talking to her, whispered back, “I’d love to, but I don’t see how we can.”
God, who knew I’d been talking to him, hauled himself up my bra strap, perched on my shoulder and surveyed the situation. “You’re outnumbered.”
Everyone focused on the lizard that seemed to be squeaking on my shoulder.
Linda shuddered. “I hate reptiles. Horrid things. Scaly, slimy monsters.”
Insulted, God puffed out his dewlap, the orange flap of skin under his chin.
“I think you hurt his feelings,” I told Linda.
“We can explain it to them,” Linda reasoned. “When they find out who and why—”
Before she could finish, Donna swung the gas container at my head. Batting it away, I lunged at her with my spoon like I was a lifer at a maximum-security prison and the spoon was a shiv.
Of course I missed her, and almost fell again as I stumbled forward. So much for my semi-pro assassin skills.
She tried to knock the spoon from my grip and we ended up in a wrestling match for control over the eating utensil.
Then we heard the stampede.
Everyone who’d been in sharing time rushed down the path, a giant tidal wave of humanity bearing down on us.
The distraction provided me the opportunity to free the spoon from Donna’s grasp.
Realizing more witnesses were moments away, Millie, Linda, and Donna grabbed the gas cans and disappeared into the woods, shouting, “You didn’t see anything. Remember that. You didn’t see anything.”
Gladys and I sagged against each other in relief.
“That was—” I began.
“Smoke!” God shouted in my ear, making me jump. “Fire!”
I searched the sky, searching for what he saw. Sure enough, a dark plume of smoke, coming from the direction of the Krout Estate, rose in the sky.
I pointed it out to Gladys. “Fire. Go tell someone in the office.”
Nodding, she tried to run in the direction of the office, but she was fighting the tide of sharing time participants. So she did the most logical thing. She began to shout, “Fire! Fire!”
The pathway erupted into chaos as some people stopped to gawk, others tried to get to their cabins, and some ran away. I used the opportunity to duck into our cabin, grab the ladder, and sneak off in the direction of the smoke.
Chapter 23
