TheCrystal

by Sandra Cox

  “I don’t have a problem with pulling my weight,” he said with a grin. “You grill the sandwiches and I’ll take care of the soup.” He reached for a copper-bottomed pan that hung from a stainless steel wheel over the island-stove.

  Picking up a dinner knife, Gabby looked around admiringly. “I never knew cabins were loaded with so many up-to-date appliances. This is really a lovely place.” She pointed at the pine table, then at the island-stove. “Beautiful wood furniture and modern appliances, I love it.” “What do you do for a living, John Paul?” Gabby inquired as she opened the bread and slapped cheese between the soft, yeasty slices.

  “You might say I’m in distribution.” He poured the soup into the pan and turned on the burner.

  “What do you distribute?”

  He stirred the soup for a moment before answering. “Alcoholic beverage.”

  She laughed. “Oh, you mean like the Budweiser distributors? Do you have a couple of Clydesdales hidden out back?”

  “Something like that,” he said with a smile. “But enough about me, I can’t keep calling you hey you. Have you remembered your name yet?”

  Gabby. Gabriella. Tamara. Amy. Names throbbed like a kettle drum in her brain. She winced as the pain came.

  He lifted the wooden spoon and tapped it against the pan. Mesmerizing red droplets, the color of diluted blood fell back into the copper-bottomed pot. He turned the heat down then faced her. “You know girl every time I ask you your name your forehead wrinkles like corrugated cardboard and you take to your bed with a headache.” His voice gentled. “It’s been three days. Amnesia seldom lasts that long. Whatever’s going on with you I can empathize, when I was in Vietnam I felt the need to escape reality on a regular basis.”

  Gabby rubbed her pounding temples. “And did you? Escape reality?”

  “Couldn’t. I was a medic. Too many soldiers and friends depended on me.” As if trying to shake off black memories his expression lightened and his eyes danced with mischief. “But when I went on leave you might say I did my damndest to create an alternate reality.” He grinned. “I guess, girl, you’re just on leave. Just don’t stay there too long. I’ve got a feeling there’s people depending on you too.”

  He went back to stirring the soup.

  “John Paul.”

  “Hm?”

  “I’m not a coward by nature,” she said and knew it to be so.

  He grinned. “Never thought you were, girl, you got too much sass. So what shall we call you? How about Sherry?

  A picture of a petite, buxom redhead with a simper on her face flashed skittering through her brain. “Not unless you have a death wish.”

  She slathered butter on a sandwich and dropped it in the skillet. “How about Tammy?”

  He gave her a skeptical look. “You don’t look like a Tammy to me.”

  She started to butter another sandwich then paused as she realized she’d forgotten her headache. “I believe I would like to be called Tamara.”

  He gave her a keen look. “Tamara, it’s very unusual and very pretty. Do you think that’s your name?”

  She shook her head, perplexed. “No. I don’t think so. But, I think maybe someone is named that who I admire. Never mind, it’s a stupid idea,” she said slapping the other sandwich onto the skillet.

  “No. I like it. Tamara it is. At least, until we figure out your real name.”

  They finished fixing lunch in compatible silence then sat down at the pine table to eat. Gabby was in the process of pulling her sandwich apart and watching the soft yellow mass puddle in her plate when a knock sounded at the door.

  John Paul rose immediately. “Get into the bedroom,” he said removing her plate, utensils and glass and placing them in the sink.

  She looked at him questioningly.

  “You weren’t in very good shape when I found you. I want to make sure no one is trying to finish the job.”

  She nodded, her stomach tightening and her heart beating a rapid tattoo against her breast.

  John Paul waited ’til Tamara or whoever in hell she was slipped into the bedroom and then walked to the door and turned the handle, the brass cool and smooth beneath his hand. The door swung open. Standing in front of him was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

  The tiny framed woman wore a thick red sweater that accented her beautiful skin, designer jeans and hiking boots. A thick red band kept silky black hair that fell to her waist away from her face.

  Lai studied the big man standing in front of her as intently as he studied her. He was middle-aged but in excellent physical condition. His hair was a light reddish brown and just beginning to gray at the temples, his gray eyes shrewd.

  “May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for a friend of mine, a woman in her mid-twenties, tall, blonde.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Then you have seen her.”

  “No, actually, but I thought if I knew who you were talking about, I could make some inquiries.”

  Lai tried to see inside the cabin, but the big man’s broad shoulders blocked her view. “May I come in and we can talk about it?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m on my way out.”

  “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “Ma’am, I don’t need your money.”

  She gave him a sultry look. “Who said anything about money?”

  “Business so bad, you have to go door-to-door now?” he drawled.

  Lai whitened as if she’d been struck. “You may have just made a very deadly mistake.”

  “I don’t care for threats. Perhaps you had better go.” He called after her as she wheeled around and began to walk away. “How’d you find this place anyway? I’m not exactly on the beaten path.”

  Lai ignored him and kept walking. She wasn’t about to tell him that it was blind luck or help from the gods. And since she believed in neither except perhaps the old goddess Kali it must be karma.

  If the fall hadn’t killed Christopher’s lover where was she? She’d watched the news for the past three days and there had been no mention of a dead woman discovered in the mountains so she had come back to investigate and found the body gone.

  She paid several mountain people a small fortune for any information they could give her on any unusual comings and goings.

  The mountain folk were fiercely independent and protective of their own, but selling information about a stranger and a Yankee to boot, was another matter. So it came to her attention that Christopher’s hired flunky had been combing the mountainside. Why?

  As Lai pondered Gabriella Bell’s disappearance, John Paul watched the woman walk away. Few times in his life had he encountered true evil, but there was no doubt in his mind this was one of them. He would have to be very, very careful. She meant the girl harm, of that he was certain. He closed the door and walked back into the cabin.

  “You can come out now.”

  “Who was it?” Gabby asked, as she walked out of the bedroom.

  “I have no idea but whoever it was, she wanted you pretty badly.”

  “Maybe it was a friend or a family member,” Gabby suggested eagerly.

  “Do you know any beautiful oriental women?”

  A shadow of unease passed over Gabriella’s face and she felt a grinding jolt of pain behind her eyes. “I don’t think I want to find out.”

  “Wise girl.” He walked to the kitchen counter and poured them each a fresh cup of coffee. “A friend of mine told me there has been a stranger a piece down the mountains asking questions.”

  “What kind of questions?” As Gabby bent her head over her coffee cup her long hair fell forward. She brushed it back and forced herself to ignore the pain that was trying to separate her head from her neck.

  “Questions about a blonde-haired woman, an oriental woman and a crystal ball. Since most of these mountain folk are God-fearing Christians, they are rather put off by the crystal ball,” he said, grinning.

  Gabby thumped down in a kitch
en chair, coffee sloshing out of the cup and onto her hand. She hastily set down the cup. The throbbing in her head receded replaced by a ka-thump of pure excitement that pulsed through her at mention of the crystal ball.

  “There was a wreck down the mountain a few days ago. In fact, it happened the same night I found you,” he mentioned while sipping the fragrant brew. John Paul stated it casually enough, but he watched her intently.

  “Do you think there’s a connection?”

  He shrugged. “More to the point, do you?”

  “I have no idea,” she said honestly, adding, “but I am intrigued by that crystal ball. Maybe we should go looking for it.”

  He grinned, “Ah, the slumbering sleuth is beginning to awake,” he said, unaware just how on target his words were. “I’ll look. You stay put.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to where I found you, then to where the car was wrecked.”

  “Let me come with you,” Gabby begged.

  “No and don’t even think about following me.” Seeing the crestfallen expression on her face, he knew that was exactly what she had in mind. “I’ll have your word on it.”

  “Oh, all right,” she said sulkily. “I’ll stay put.”

  “I’ll leave Red here for company,” and to protect you, he added silently to himself.

  “No, you take Red. He may sniff out something you would miss.”

  “Do you know how to use a rifle?” He pointed at the gun over the fireplace.

  “Point and shoot,” she replied, with an airy wave of her hand.

  He grinned. “Pretty much, just don’t shoot your foot off. And lock the door,” he added and left before Gabby could respond.

  * * * * *

  Gabby spent the rest of the afternoon limping around the cabin. From the muscle tone of her body, she was an active person. She could empathize with how rescue or shelter cats must feel confined to a cage. It’s a wonder they didn’t all go crazy. She turned her hand to cleaning the small cabin. That took a little over an hour.

  Then she wandered into the bedroom and sat down at the computer on John Paul’s desk. The desk looked to be another one of John Paul’s creations, too beautiful to be anything but handmade. Really the man was too good to be true.

  She sat down, pulled up the main screen and typed on as guest. As the screen lit up she smiled. It was nice to know those particular synapses were still sparking, sans headaches.

  Wandering back to the kitchen, she pulled a can of Diet Pepsi from the frig, grabbed some Oreos from the pantry and trotted back to the computer as happy as a clam.

  She was still there when John Paul got home a couple of hours later.

  A wet nose followed by a silky red head pushed itself under her arm and into her lap. Gabby patted the dog and turned around smiling. “Did you know they have wild ponies on Corolla and Ocracoke Island? Do you think we could go some time?”

  “Just how long do you plan on sticking around?” he asked.

  Her face fell.

  He smiled at her. “You are welcome for as long as you want.”

  For the first time, Gabby noticed the canvas bag he was holding. “Did you find something?”

  In response, he opened it and let the green crystal roll on the bed.

  Without thought she picked up the ball. It warmed under her fingertips. The colors blurred and a stranger appeared in swirling mist. He opened his mouth and though no sound emerged she heard his cry, “Gabriella.”

  The ball dropped from her nerveless fingertips. It plopped onto the bed. John Paul caught Gabby as she slid to the floor in a dead faint.

  Someone was shaking her. “Tamara. Tamara.” Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. Her heart was beating at an accelerated pace and John Paul was leaning over her, his face inches from his own. Light brown stubble sprinkled with gray was visible on his chin and his breath smelled of peppermint.

  “Thank God. What happened to you?”

  Gabby stared at him uncomprehendingly. The cabin was warm. That must be why she felt so sleepy, she thought groggily. Suddenly her eyes widened as memory washed over her in cold waves. Christopher…Lai. Her hair fell away from her face as she looked up at him, her pulse jumping about in erratic hops.

  Even though Gabby knew the answer she had to ask. “Did you see it?”

  “See what?”

  “The face in the globe. He was calling my name only he didn’t call me Tamara.”

  His face as expressionless as a poker player’s, he asked, “And what did he call you?”

  She swallowed once and then said as calmly as she could “Gabriella. My name is Gabriella Bell, but my friends call me Gabby. You may call me Gabby.” Friend.

  He cleared his throat. “Well Miss Gabriella Bell so you saw a man in the crystal.”

  “Where is it? I’ll show you,” Gabby struggled out of his grip and sat up.

  He reached over, his blue work shirt straining across his muscular shoulders and handed it to her.

  Grabbing it, she clasped it to her. Its warmth slowed her rapid heartbeat. The colors beginning to swirl under her fingertips hypnotized her. She felt her body relax and go limp. Then like an evil genie Christopher’s face swam into view. He was no longer calling her name. His eyes were sharp and probing as if he were looking for something or someone.

  “There do you see it,” she cried, holding it out to John Paul.

  He looked at her uneasily.

  “Do you?” she asked, insistently.

  “No,” he answered finally.

  “It’s all right. I don’t think you are meant to,” she said, heaving a sigh from deep in her belly.

  “You’ve had an eventful morning, Gabriella Bell. Why don’t you rest now,” he said, gently pushing her back to lie down.

  “I think I’ll take you up on that. The headaches are gone but I’m exhausted.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Please call me Gabby.”

  “Gabby,” he repeated.

  When he reached for the globe, Gabby clasped it tightly and wrapped around it in a fetal position, closing her eyes.

  As her mind spiraled downward toward sleep, she felt the heavy warmth of a quilt being laid over her and thought she heard John Paul whisper to the dog, “Even with no memory, I would have sworn she was as sane as me. Though, there are some who have doubts about myself. Well, time will tell.”

  Footsteps receded down the hall as Gabby fell into the welcome arms of oblivion.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Christopher awoke clearheaded. Beatrice sat beside his bed. “What are you doing here, Beatrice?”

  She clasped her hands together. “The lord be praised. Let me get your aunt.” Her stays creaked as she rose and hurried from the room.

  Memory came flooding back. He threw back the sheet and black plaid coverlet and reached for his pants at the bottom of the bed. Of course, they weren’t there. Christopher padded to his dresser and pulled out a pair of worn jeans. He was in the process of zipping them up when his aunt walked in.

  “You drugged me,” he accused, fists on hips.

  Tamara answered placidly, “Yes, I did. Let’s go into your study and talk shall we?”

  Christopher grabbed a white tee shirt and pulled it on as they walked.

  Her skirts made a whispering sound as she sank down onto the black leather couch. Christopher sat down on the overstuffed leather chair across from her.

  “This had better be good, Aunt Tam,” he warned.

  She looked directly at him. “Christopher, I want that girl back as badly as you do. But to fight that woman you must be strong and have your wits about you. You were in no condition four days ago. I think now you are ready.”

  Christopher looked at her incredulously. “You kept me drugged for four days?”

  “You act as though I had a choice.”

  “Well, didn’t you?” he asked, running his fingers through his hair, restraining himself from clutching it and howling.

  “No!” his norma
lly mild-mannered aunt answered forcefully. “That evil woman has Gabriella. She’s not getting you too.”

  “Aunt…”

  She waved her hand to negate whatever he was about to say. “I know you have to go, Christopher. I just want to make sure you come home to me safely.”

  He got up, pulled Tamara to her feet and swept her up in a bear hug. “Don’t worry. I intend to come home and with Gabriella. Now will you tell me what happened?”

  Tamara repeated to Christopher what she had said before about the disappearance of the globe. How Billy had gone up to the rendezvous point and everyone was gone. How he had gone back to the mountains searching for both Gabriella and the globe.

  “So we don’t even know if she is alive,” Christopher said slowly, feeling a giant fist grip his heart. He had experienced it twice. Once when his mother died and then again when Uncle Edward passed.

  Tamara reached over and clasped his fingers. His hand engulfed her tiny one and his grasp made her wince. “That is one thing I am sure of, Christopher. She is alive. And don’t ask me to explain it. I just know.” Added in a whisper so low, Christopher wasn’t even sure he heard her correctly, “I just know that Gabriella will be the next possessor of the green crystal. That her destiny will not allow her to die before it has been passed on.”

  He fastened on to Gabriella being alive and let the rest go. His aunt was fey. It was her essence, what made her who she was. But if she said Gabriella was alive then Gabriella was alive. The fist clutching his heart loosened considerably, though it didn’t completely go away.

  “Is she all right?”

  “That I can’t say I just know she will survive.”

  Christopher leaned over and kissed his aunt’s hand. “Thank you.” He stood up.

  Tamara tilted her head, looking up at him. Christopher smiled. She looked like a quizzical bird.

  “Will you at least eat lunch before you go?”

  “Go where?” he parried.

  “To the mountains to find Gabriella. It doesn’t take a crystal ball to figure that out,” she said tartly.

  He was relieved that she had used the word “find” not “look for”. “Have you talked to Gabriella’s father?”