Reece squeezed her fingers firmly then turned to witness a stream of droplets trailing down her cheeks. “Ah, Sweetheart, it’s okay. The strangle hold of that part of my roots has been washed away long ago, doesn’t even cause nightmares anymore.”
“No.” Lilah caressed his face, first with her soft hand then lightly with tiny butterfly kisses. “You’ve grown into an amazingly compassionate man given your history, or perhaps because of it, but those specters will always stand on the rim of your thoughts; you can’t help it. All of us have things that influence our days and nights, whether we like it or not.”
“Does that include you?”
She instantly withdrew her hand, as if stung by a bee.
Now it’s my turn, Lilah.
“Along the same line, since that first day we collided at the bakery, I’ve seen a cloud that shades your gaze each time we touch with our eyes. I want to…”
She jumped up. “It’s Pelican Point. We’re here.”
“Point her into the wind until the sails luff so I can furl the jib and flake the main.” He worked quickly with her help and once done, he cranked the Evinrude and motored toward the lakeside establishment. Spying an empty slip, he took over the tiller and guided the boat into the narrow slot.
I’ll get the bow line.” Lilah offered, and he thought once again how lucky he’d been to find this woman. He only hoped she’d trust him enough with the secrets that shrouded her life.
Nineteen
Lilah knew what he wanted, and she’d already determined that she’d tell him everything, but she didn’t want to ruin this moment. Perhaps, once they were inside and he’d had a few drinks, she’d unload her worries, tell him the truth. It wasn’t fair that he’d shared his past and she hadn’t reciprocated. Besides, she’d started the game with the intent to come clean.
She pulled in tight against Reece’s side as they stepped beneath the giant balloon beaked bird above the double red oak doors. Lilah rubbed the mating pair of fowl captured in the inlays of cut glass; one mallard and one wood duck in a precession with four ducklings. “Remarkable detail. Looks almost alive.”
“First time here?”
“Yes.”
“You’re in for a treat. Wait till you see the designs over the bar.”
They politely worked their way through the corridor stopping every two feet for another man to slap Reece on the back, or some strange woman to offer a hug or kiss on his cheek.
“You must come here often.”
He nodded to the lady waving franticly at the bar while gently pulling Lilah in line of sight where all could see their hands cupped together.
Sorry girls, he’s with me now.
“I’m surprised at all the people here tonight, and most of them are female.”
Reece pointed to the tripod sign next to the statue of a pelican nesting on a triple piling, Ladies night, Drinks half price.
“I thought girl’s night was intended to balance the numbers at a bar. Looks like they need a guy’s night around here.”
He pulled out her chair and waited for Lilah to sit before moving to the adjacent chair. “A lot of widows and divorced women from around the lake frequent this place. Not sure why. Read in the local paper the ratio was roughly two to one.”
Lilah returned the stares of the healthy and suggestively dressed cougars around the room. “I guess if a man were here by himself, he’d have his hands full.” She ended her scan of the surroundings with a bead directly at Reece. “Especially someone handsome.”
“Now, now, Lilah. It’s not right to hold a man guilty for a sin he did not commit.” He ignored the redhead toasting her drink toward Reece from the next table. “Besides, I’m with you now, no one else, and I want it to stay that way for a long, long time. Fair?”
“Fair.” The focused eyeballs in her direction were more than casual interest. They obviously didn’t appreciate competition. “They’re all staring at me.”
Reece scooted his chair around the table and traced waves along her bare upper arm. “Can’t blame them. You’re drop dead beautiful. Kind of takes my breath away each time I look at you.”
She lifted their joined hands and pressed her lips against his skin. “What a wonderful thing to say, Reece. Even if you’re just trying to flatter me.”
He cast a glance of uncertainty. “Sweetheart, as we move forward, you’ll learn, I never lie or flavor my words with thanks I don’t mean. I realize it’s early with us but, every minute we’re together I keep searching for your wings.”
“Wings?”
“To me, Lilah, I see only an angel.”
Please, Lord; if he’s a dream, don’t let me wake up.
He released her hand and immediately she felt the loss of connection. “I’m going to the bar for a draft. What can I get ya?”
“Something pink. No, I’d like a martini, dry if they have it.”
“Oh, a strong libation for the lady, I like that. While I’m gone, take a gander at the backdrop for the bar.”
Lilah rotated in her chair, followed his tight derriere until it disappeared in the crowd, and raised her line of sight to the artwork behind the bartender.
Magnificent.
The entire human sized panel of cut class came alive in one blaring portrait that captured the serenity offered by the lake. The beauty of the work was clear even to the non-artists in the crowd that pointed and awed at each panel. Yet to one that cherished the allure of each pigment, the visual stimulation was more than an informal experience. The rhythmic colors across the glass mural danced in harmony until they blended into a tapestry that inspired all her senses. The talent captured in the silica fragments spurred envy from the heart of her muse.
At the center of the image, a purple heron was patterned into the cut glass. Shrouded behind several vertical cattail stalks, its bill lifted skyward to cry an alarm at the presence of an intruder. Its eye reached out and penetrated the observer, like a harbinger warning of an upcoming event, something few were permitted to behold in their lifetime. In the background, a vapor cloud rose from a mystical body of water, as if it were part real and part mirage.
“Hello, gorgeous. How about I keep you company tonight and into the morning?”
Lilah ripped her attention from the masterpiece to the hot paw of a beer-bellied invader. The tactile nature of his familiarity caught her speechless.
“Hey, I’ve seen you somewhere before. Now where the hell was it? I know, in my dreams.” The obnoxious senior grunted at his own off-tinted line while moving one coarse hand along the exposed skin at the back of her outfit.
She covered her nose to block out the foul, sore breath of the bald ogre, and in an instant, the drunk rose into the air as if an arm reached down from the heavens.
“Ralph! Chill out and set your sights elsewhere, hound dog. This angel is with me.”
Beer belly appeared dazed. “Oh, it’s you Reece. Ah, sorry ma’am. I didn’t realize you were taken.” Even in his foggy state, the man continued to stare at Lilah. “Damn it. I’ve seen that face before, where the hell was…”
Reece darted in like a white knight. “She works at the library, one of your favorite hangouts.”
“What?” In three seconds the odious man realized the intended slap in Reece’s declaration. “Oh, you’re joking. That’s very funny.”
“Head back to sniffing the other wriggling fish, Ralph.” His tone turned more stern. “Now scoot, and don’t come back to manhandle my girlfriend.”
The simple compound word girlfriend lingered above the table as it muted all the chatter in the crowded room.
“Sorry about that, Lilah. Ralph is harmless. Comes here a few times a week to drown the memory of his wife. She passed away about a year ago.” He set their drinks on the table and handed her a napkin.
The cold moist surface of the goblet soaked the heat from her fingers. She held the tangy nectar up to the light and toasted the object of her many fantasies now turned to reality. “To the dreams that br
ing comfort when we’re lonely.”
Reece complimented her sentiments. “And the fates that move us in directions we dare not seek on our own.”
The off colored jokes, the incidental bumping of the cattle all around the two lovers disappeared. Only the warmth of their combined stare, and the exchange of body heat from the constant stroking of another’s flesh, counseled away all shadows and serpents from her past still hiding in the weeds, until finally Lilah had accumulated three goblets aligned randomly by her side.
He tilted his head to the side and regarded her with solemn eyes. “Your turn. Ever since I met you, I’ve sensed a sadness. I told you my past, something I’ve never shared with another woman before. Now it’s your turn.”
How is he so perceptive, especially after we’ve only known each other a short while?
But she knew. Deep down, they clearly shared a special connection. She’d never believed in love-at-first sight before, but with Reece everything had fallen into place so quickly, as if some giant hand was at play intersecting their paths, again and again, as long as necessary until the eternal bond anchored into their spirit.
Lilah gathered her strength, darted both eyes toward her date several times then began her own story. “I never meant to be evasive. It’s just that I’ve spent a year trying to make a new life for myself, and I’m not used to opening up to others.”
“But…” he prompted.
“But I want to trust you. No – correction, I do trust you.”
“Go as slow as you like. Gall Island can wait for another outing, and we can stay here all night if you’d rather.”
His understanding was her undoing. She exhaled a deep breath, hoping that by revealing her past and sharing her fears, the nightmare of that night would finally be put to rest.
“My name isn’t Lilah Johnson. Well it is. Johnson was my mother’s maiden name. I’m known far and wide as Lilah Randall.”
He tilted his head and scrunched his nose. “Actually, I have a confession. I saw a newspaper article recently.”
“You knew who I was when I came to dinner?”
“No. Later this week I made the connection.” He shrugged. “I knew all along that you looked familiar but …”
“You – you don’t mind that I’m pseudo famous.” She remembered one of the reasons things hadn’t worked for his previous marriage and worried over his reaction.
“You’re not anything like my ex and I promise not to pass judgment.” He winked. “But I want your version of the events as I’m sure the tabloids twisted most of the facts to raise ratings.”
This man was a jewel, a keeper. His willingness to hear her story without censorship made the telling much easier.
“Twelve months ago, my life had taken an upswing. For years I’d been depressed. My career in art was dragging bottom. My husband, the Senator from Maryland, had no idea what the words commitment and loyalty meant. I was simply a trophy wife, someone he never really loved, but was good enough to hang on his arm at all the political rallies and campaign fund raisers.”
She studied the moisture clinging to the side of her glass. “I’m not sure why his behavior surprised me. We were twenty years apart in age, but I was starry eyed over the attention from the media, maybe even a bit proud of what I had accomplished in becoming a rich man’s wife. Somehow, I’d forgotten the dream, the white knight, the little girl fantasies. Like you said before, guess I allowed myself to experience cognitive denial, saw only what I wanted. I’d learned to ignore the unfamiliar perfume scents when I’d come home, or the single earring beneath the bed that sure as hell wasn’t mind. I was naïve, pure and simple. Then everything turned around.”
Reece continued massaging her fingers one by one. “How so?”
“I received a call from an art dealer, Rita Daniels, in Chicago. Said she saw an article in the Washington newspaper about the Senator’s wife that painted scenic portraits. Figured it’d be a good angle to promo my work. Since my current career was going nowhere, I decided ‘why not’. Once my art got into her gallery, it started to sell. For whatever reason, I smelled actual success on the horizon, then…” She hesitated and shook her head.
“It’s all right, Lilah. That was in the past, not now. Go ahead, continue, please.”
“On the way home from the show, I was so excited. To actually sell my work, and make enough money that I could be independent from…Anyway, I had a few drinks on the plane, and when I returned to our apartment, even in that foggy state, I knew something was wrong. When I entered the suite, there was that smell again, of another woman’s cologne. I’d have been angry that he lied to me about screwing around, but I was more concerned with the disarray in the apartment.”
“What do you mean?”
“All the bookshelves, the cabinets, even my mother’s heirlooms had been tossed everywhere.”
“Like what a thief would do?”
“Yes, but nothing was taken.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Not that I could see. The silverware, the gold watch from when Ben retired from his old company before he became a Senator; even my husband’s wallet was left on the kitchen corner. Then, when I moved into the hallway, I noticed a foul scent, like rotted meat. Once I entered the bedroom…I saw them both, shot through the head, blood, brains, everywhere, the odor was horrible.” Lilah buried her face in her hands as the vile images flooded back.
“Here.” Reece scooted closer, wrapped one arm about her and slipped his clean handkerchief into her hand. She wiped the mascara running down her cheeks and blew her nose before returning his cloth.
“I’ve never in my life seen anything so…so disgusting. The coroner put the time of death as the previous Friday, and I didn’t find the bodies until Sunday. I called the police, but instead of helping me, they turned the entire incident around, as if I had arranged to have my own husband murdered.”
Lilah squeezed his hand. “But I didn’t Reece, I swear I didn’t. Sure, at nights when I’d lay in our bed and smelled the other women all over him; realized he didn’t even care enough to wash after they had sex, I wanted to cut off his thing, but I never thought of killing him.”
She pulled back to sample his face, and it wasn’t what she’d expected. There was no alarm or disgust, or ‘oh my god I’ve fallen for a murderer’ expression. Instead, his eyes were empathic, peaceful, almost consoling, as if he weren’t surprised at all.
“What is it, Reece?”
“What do you mean?”
“If the man I’d fallen for just told me he was accused of killing someone, I think I’d reflect a little concern.”
“Maybe, but I’ve looked inside you, Lilah. I know what you are, who you are. You’re too damn pure to take a life in anger. Perhaps if you were threatened or someone you loved was in harm’s way, then I’d believe it, but I love you, Sweetheart. You should realize that by now. The little girl I see inside could never do what you just described.”
Reece hugged her and in an instant, all the suspicious that he’d run away was gone. No, it was more; the apprehension that the nightmares would return when she switched off the lights, that the door handle would sound its alarm like before; all those fears had fled. Lilah searched her fortress where those secrets had been locked away, opened the door, and the specters from that night one year ago had vanished.
“Reece?”
“Hmm.”
“Thank you. Already, my heart feels lighter.”
“Good.” He waved at their waiter, indicating they wanted to settle their tab. After taking care of the bill, he rose and held out his hand. “Ready to explore some more?”
Lilah’s mind buzzed with the possibilities in that one question. While he might be referring to sailing the vast hidden coves of the lake, she hoped he meant much more.
Lilah rose from her chair and wobbled, tipsy from the drinks she’d consumed on an empty stomach. Reece steadied her. She hugged his waist and allowed her hand to casually drop along the outline of his r
ock hard buttocks. He shot her a surprised smile that turned into a seductive grin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Most definitely yes.
But she let her smile do the talking.
Twenty
“So where is this mystery hideaway you’re taking me?” Lilah fastened her gaze on his bare chest, loving the way the sun glistened off his bronzed skin.
“It’s called Gall Island. Very scenic, and steeped in local legends.”
She leaned against the fiberglass enclosure, enjoying the gentle wind that tossed her hair about her face. “Oh, you mean like ghosts and water spirits.”
“No, nothing like that.” Reece domed his free arm across the ridgeline of the Appalachian mountain range enveloping the Watauga impoundment above Blue Spring. “This entire region, extending down into the Carolinas, was the homeland of the Cherokee Indians before it was stolen by the Anglos in the early eighteen hundreds.”
His face distorted and paralleled the sentiments revealed during the recanting of his childhood legacy. “All the whining and subterfuge for restoration from special interest groups today is a colossal farce when compared to the true founders of this country. Media moguls ignore it, talk-show pundits are too ashamed to discuss it in the hopes the true atrocities of our past remain a distant, fading echo.”
“What do you mean?”
“History records the majority of natives in this region were herded together and marched along the Trail of Tears to the Oklahoma territory. Of the fifteen thousand men, women, and children forced to uproot their heritage, over four thousand died along the way during the genocidal relocation.”
His tenor took on a somber edge. “According to my aunt, my great, great grandmother was adopted by settlers just before the removal from our land. The remainder of my native ancestors perished along the trip. There are stories of a small renegade group that escaped the forced encampment by the white man and hid somewhere in the surrounding mountains. The survivors prayed to the scared mother of all animal spirits, and she created the enchanted lake of Atagahi, also known as Gall place, to protect her children.”
Distant Obsession Page 12
