* * *
As soon as I was back in my car, I searched my contacts in my iPhone and found Daniel. I didn’t know if his phone was still in service, but he picked up on the first ring.
“Daniel, it’s Dr. Lavoie. I was wondering if you’re back at the center.”
“No, I’m still finishing that job. They paid me in advance and—”
“I might need your help.” My words rushed out, pushing past all normal pleasantries. “Lisa, my daughter, I think she’s at River of Life.” I heard the name repeat in my head, still couldn’t believe Lisa might be in that place, with Aaron.
A long silence.
I stared back at the run-down building.
“Are you sure?” he said at last.
“No, and that’s what I need to find out.” I gnawed my lower lip, bit it hard. How long had Lisa been using again? It was hard to know if she’d suffer severe withdrawal symptoms. “She’s not well and might need medical treatment. I thought, if you were at the center, or if you knew how to reach anyone inside.”
“Is she sick?”
I didn’t want to share about her addiction. “She’s just gone through a health scare recently, and I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“They don’t give out information about members.”
“So I’ve been told. If you called, would they tell you if she was there?”
“They wouldn’t tell anyone. The whole center runs on the principle that people can leave their past behind and start again.”
Frustration made my voice sound angry as I said, “People should be able to contact someone inside. What if there’s an emergency?”
“You could leave a message.”
“I’ve been told that members are discouraged from communicating with the outside world, family or friends.”
“That’s true. It’s better they stay focused on the workshop. But if you leave a message, and she doesn’t call back, then you know she’s happy there.”
If she didn’t call back, more likely it was because she didn’t want to speak to me. But how would I know if she actually got the message?
Daniel said, “She might not even like it. Lots of people aren’t ready for the program and leave after the first weekend. Nobody’s held against their will.”
He sounded confused, like he didn’t understand why I was so worried. He was right, in some ways. Technically, Lisa could leave any time, but I knew that fasting and no sleep could change someone’s perceptions of reality.
“Maybe, but I’d feel a lot better if I at least knew if she was in there, or still on the streets. If I were to go there myself, what might happen?”
Daniel said, “The registration office is closed at night, but they wouldn’t tell you anything anyway. You’d probably have to make an appointment with Aaron.”
I thought about the report I’d just made with the police, wondered if Aaron would even speak to me and what it might do to my case if he did.
I said, “I don’t think he’ll see me. Do you have any other ideas? I’d feel a lot better if I knew she was okay.”
Another long, echoing silence. Finally, he said, “Give me a couple of days to finish this job, then when I move back, I’ll see if she’s there.”
Despite my desire for knowledge of Lisa, I was still concerned Daniel was making a mistake. “Did you think over everything we spoke about?”
“I’m still going back.” He sounded defensive, then grudging. “If I see her, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I really appreciate this, Daniel.”
There was silence, then he hung up.
* * *
After I ended the call, I sat in my car for a while, watching people come and go from the house, debating my options. If I went to the center and made a scene, would they let me see Lisa? Not likely. Even if I did speak to her, would she leave? I thought of how she had forced me out of the flophouse the night before. I just wished I knew if she was okay. I started up my car and drove to the police station. When I explained to an officer what had happened, he just said, “I can appreciate your concern, but your daughter’s an adult. There’s nothing we can do.”
Frustrated, I nodded. I was tired of being told there was nothing anyone could do—tired of feeling like there was nothing I could do. As I walked out of the station, my cell rang. It was Kevin.
“You okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” But I wasn’t fine. Not even close.
“When I didn’t hear from you, I was worried. Did you find Lisa?”
I told him what I’d discovered at the Monkey House and what Daniel told me about the center.
Kevin said, “I have to agree with him. If she’s at the center, it is better she draw her own conclusions, any interference by you might just make her want to stay longer. Can you give it a couple of days and see what he finds out?”
I let out my breath, watching the traffic zip by and the plumes of my breath on the cold air. We talked a little while longer, and he reminded me that once Tammy made her statement, Aaron could be arrested, which would hopefully make Lisa look at the center with new eyes. My best bet was to wait.
I leaned back on the headrest. “I’ll see what happens over the next couple of days, but I should get home now. I’m tired, cold, and hungry.”
“Why don’t I come over with some miso soup? I have a favorite Japanese restaurant near my house. We can talk this over some more.”
“I’ll be okay.…” But then I imagined walking into my empty home, fear of what could be happening to my daughter my only company.
Kevin must have heard something in my voice because he said, “Of course you’ll be okay, but I know how I am when something’s bothering me. It’s always better if I have another mind to bounce ideas off, so I can make sure my perception of the situation isn’t clouded by emotion. Then I make my decision.”
My professional pride stung at the implication that I couldn’t control my emotions, and I wanted to defend myself—but when I stood back and considered my current desire to break into the commune with a loaded gun and hunt down Aaron, I realized that Kevin had a point. My sheer panic over wanting to keep Lisa away from Aaron was definitely clouding reason.
“Yes, please come over.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I gave Kevin my address and sped home to quickly tidy while he was picking up the food. Though my home is usually clean, I wanted the security of a last-minute check. I rushed around, shoving the books and notes that were piled up on my kitchen table back into my office. The doorbell rang.
It was Kevin, wearing a maroon rugby shirt and jeans. I took his jacket and, as he walked past me into the house, caught the scent of soap and cologne, noticing that the back of his hair was damp—so he’d also tidied up. He looked around admiringly as he made himself at home in my kitchen and set the take-out bag on the counter. “Your home is very nice.” He turned and smiled.
I tried to smile back as I got down some bowls. “Thanks.”
We met eyes. His voice turned somber as he said, “I know you have a lot on your mind. I just want to be a friend and support you through it.”
I felt a mixture of relief and disappointment at his words, wondering at the latter. I turned to put the kettle on and said, “Do you like green tea?”
Behind me, he said, “Actually, I brought us some sake. I thought you might need something stronger.”
I set the kettle down. “You’re probably right.”
* * *
It had been a long time since I’d had miso soup, or sake, and both sent a warm glow through my body as we sat at the table and talked. I shared my feelings about the scene at the Monkey House, while Kevin carefully listened. Afterward, he confided that he’d had a younger brother who became an addict. His brother eventually got his life together, and they were very close now.
Lulled by the sake, we moved into the living room, the fire unwinding my muscles even more. I began to think that maybe Kevin was right. Even if Lisa
had gone to a retreat, that didn’t mean she’d stay after it was over. She’d dry out, then hopefully make some changes with her life. She wouldn’t be as vulnerable since the center was drug-free except for marijuana. Lisa was also older than I was when we joined the commune, and she was strong-minded, a fighter. She probably wouldn’t even finish the retreat once she found out how many rules there were. They wouldn’t have time to mess with her. Daniel had even said himself that lots of people left after the first weekend. Meanwhile, all I could do was accept that I’d done everything I could and there was nothing else to try.
As I studied Kevin by the firelight, his hair shining and his brown eyes reflecting the flickering flames, he told me about some of his travels. I watched his hand on his glass, his ease of movement as he brought it to his lips again and again. He had just finished explaining some of the meditation techniques he’d learned in India, when I said, “You’ve obviously done a lot of traveling. Did you go on your own? Or were you married?”
“When I was younger, but I was single when I was traveling. That was one of the main reasons I went on the trip, so I could do some soul-searching.”
“Divorced?” I imagined him with someone he met while at university, but they grew apart as they began their careers—a common occurrence.
“Nope, widowed.”
I stared at him, my drink halfway to my mouth. He was a widower too?
Kevin, his face vaguely amused, said, “You okay?”
“Yes, sorry. I was just surprised I didn’t know that.”
“I haven’t told anyone at the hospital.”
Another surprise. He seemed like such an open book I wondered what else he wasn’t sharing. I also realized his hand was on the back of the couch. If I leaned backward, my neck would touch his skin, but I didn’t move. Instead I said, “Did you know that I’d lost my husband?”
He nodded. “Someone mentioned it.”
I wanted to ask who, but had a feeling it was probably one of the nurses, remembering that we’d talked about it once when the hospital had a fund-raiser for cancer. I said, “How did you lose your wife?”
“It was about six years ago. She was coming home from the school—she was a teacher—and a drunk driver hit her head-on.”
I shook my head. “My God, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. I was in bad shape for a long while. We were ready to start a family, so I felt like I’d lost everything at once.”
I nodded, understanding all too well. When we lose someone, we also grieve over all the things that will never be.
He said, “I joined a support group, made some good friends, and pulled through it.”
“Have you had any relationships since?” I held my breath, in anticipation of his answer, wondering what kind of response I was hoping for.
He turned slightly so he was facing me, his arm still resting on the back of the couch. I could feel the heat of his body, the sensation of his skin so close to mine, sending a shiver from the base of my spine up to the back of my neck.
“Nothing serious. I just haven’t found anyone I really connected with. It was always too easy to keep them at a distance.” He took a sip of sake, then added, “I was starting to wonder if maybe I was never going to feel strongly about anyone again, but then…” He paused, his cheeks flushed slightly.
I said, “But then?”
Still looking hesitant, he held my gaze. “I met you, and I realized that maybe it was possible.”
My chest tightened, the moment slowing, everything that he was thinking and feeling reflected in his eyes. My face must have signaled something because he reached over and took my sake glass out of my hand while his other arm dropped from the back of the couch to my neck, his fingers splaying at the nape, gently turning my face toward his. He leaned forward, pressed his lips to mine. I also leaned into the kiss, tasting warm sake on his tongue, heat spreading through my body. His hands tangled in my hair. Mine reached up and curled around his biceps, feeling the hard muscles there. He led the way, teasing and gentle, then more passionate. My own ardor grew, my breath coming faster. Then I remembered Lisa’s words. I could feel Dad, like he was in the room with me.
My mind filled with the image of kissing Paul, suddenly aware of the different feeling of Kevin’s mouth. I opened my eyes, and caught sight of Paul’s photo on the mantel. I pulled back, trying to catch my breath, disoriented, like waking from a dream, my thoughts sluggish. Kevin was watching me, confusion in his eyes, and also concern, his breath ragged.
I stood up. “I have to … I have to get something from the kitchen.”
In the kitchen, still flustered, I started picking up our dishes and running hot water, thinking, You can’t just leave him sitting on the couch. You have to say something. But what was I going to say? I’m afraid that my dead husband can see us? I felt a presence behind me and turned around, brandishing a scrub brush like a weapon. Kevin’s dark eyes were soft; his hand reached out to my wrist, holding me in place. He said, “Did you want me to go home?” It was the vulnerability in his face that did me in, shy, a little hopeful. I shook my head, not able to find words to explain the mix of feelings running through my body. I tugged my wrist free and dropped the scrub brush into the sink behind me.
He stepped forward, wrapped his hand around mine. My slippery fingers entwined with his, the scent of lemon soap filling the air. He pressed his body against mine, the hard edge of the sink bending me backward slightly, his mouth covering mine, soft and gentle. In my mind a quote came forth, Life is for the living. It was something Paul would say to me when I mourned the loss of one of our animals too long. I stepped outside of myself for a moment, stepped outside of the guilt and the fear of letting go, the fear of betraying Paul.
What do you want, Nadine?
I wanted Kevin to stay the night, wanted to feel his body holding me close in the dark, wanted the wonder and joy of exploring a new person.
I took Kevin’s hand and led him to my bedroom.
* * *
In the morning, I woke with a start when I felt a large male arm wrap around my body. My face warmed as images from the previous night flashed through my mind, each more erotic than the last, wondering how to handle the situation. It had been a while since I’d had to deal with the “morning after.” I eyed my housecoat hanging on the back of the door, wondering if I could get to it before Kevin woke. Kevin, sensing I was awake, pulled me tight against his chest. His mouth nuzzled my neck, sending shivers down my spine as he said, “Good morning.”
“Morning.” I wanted to lean back into his embrace, wanted to enjoy the moment, but the other part of me, the part that was no longer silenced by sake, wasn’t sure how far I wanted to take this, how far it could even go.
Kevin said, “I can hear your thoughts from here.”
I said, “Oh? And what am I thinking?”
“That you’d love to have dinner with me this week.”
My nerves came back alive, the sense of things moving too fast, standing on an edge of a cliff and it crumbling beneath my feet while I tried to backpedal.
“I don’t know.… I have a lot on my plate right now.”
He was silent for a couple of beats, then said, “I really enjoyed spending time with you last night, Nadine—and no, not just in bed.” He sat up behind me. I turned, so I was on my back, looking up at him. He smiled down. “But we can take this as slow as you want, okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks.” Wondering what “this” was to him. A one-night stand? A casual sexual relationship? Friends with benefits?
He said, “Can I at least have a cup of coffee before you kick me out?”
I smiled back. “I think I can make that happen.”
* * *
We had coffee, sitting at the table together, an easy familiarity already growing between us at the simple mundane ritual, passing the sugar and cream, our hands touching, sneaking peeks at each other over the rims of our mugs. I talked again about my concerns for Lisa, which had
also come roaring back with the morning light. Kevin still thought I should wait another couple of days, and I could see the sense in what he was saying, but it didn’t calm my fears. Saying good-bye to Kevin at the doorway sent another wave of awkwardness through me, but he just pulled me in for a hug and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
As he started down the stairs, he said, “You let me know when you’re ready for that dinner, okay?”
I nodded and watched from the corner of my front deck as he walked down the driveway to his car, which he’d parked on the other side of the road. I heard a car start up farther down the street, then the sound of screeching tires. A truck roared past my house just as Kevin reached the end of the driveway. A couple of more steps out into the road, and it would’ve hit him. I let out a gasp and clutched the railing. He turned around, our eyes meeting. Did you see how close that was? He gave a don’t-worry-I’m-okay wave, but my heart was still beating fast as he drove away.
I was almost sure it was the same truck I’d seen slowing down in front of my house.
* * *
I called Corporal Cruikshank and explained about the truck, mentioning that I had seen it before, and that I’d found a footprint in my yard one morning and was getting some hang-ups. She took down the description of the truck, but I wasn’t positive about the make or model. She said I should try to get a license plate number next time, and be aware of my surroundings when I left my home. I had a shower and made the bed, all the while trying to convince myself that the truck had probably belonged to one of the college kids who lived at the end of the street. They often raced up and down, and I worried they would hit someone or an animal one of these days. The night I saw them outside, they’d probably just been texting or adjusting the stereo. But I was having a hard time believing it.
I wasn’t working that day, so I busied myself with chores. Though, I did take a drive by the Monkey House in case the drug addict had been lying, and Lisa was still there. I even checked inside again, but someone else was now staying in the room where I’d found her before. I also stopped by the hospital to grab a book from my office, wondering if I might run into Kevin. There was no sign of him.
Always Watching Page 23
