by Tara Rose
They finished their meal and stayed in the cozy dining room, catching Annalise, Chad, and Dustin up on local gossip and trying to explain who was who in Passion Peak. Van asked Annalise if Carma had ever told her about the legend of Sleepy Cat Peak.
“She did, but I thought she was teasing. You mean it’s real?”
“Sure it’s real,” said Rowena. “Passion Peak is named for one of the two distinct peaks you can see from the town because of the species of passion flower that grows on its slopes. Its twin, Sleepy Cat Peak, is so named because the Ute Native Americans believed the snow formed the image of a large cat on the slopes. When the snow melted each spring, the cat awoke, and its spirit came into town.”
“The cat is a symbol of guardianship, mystery, and magic,” said Van. “When we have an early spring and the snow melts too soon, the cat is awoken from its slumber early, and that’s when tragedy strikes the town sometime later that year.”
“When did it melt this spring?” asked Annalise.
“Earlier than usual,” said Carma. A shiver ran up and down her spine. She didn’t believe in superstitious legends, but her thoughts turned toward the funeral on the following day, just the same. She excused herself to the bathroom and checked her phone, shocked to find a voice mail from Mateo. All her clients had her cell phone number, so she assumed it had something to do with his hair, although he’d never called her before.
After she listened to it, she played it again because she was convinced she’d hallucinated the entire thing. Her fingers were trembling so much that she nearly erased it by accident.
“Carma, it’s Mateo. Um…I was wondering if you were free for dinner? Um…you have my number. Tonight is fine, or tomorrow. Or any evening you’re free. Just let me know. Thanks. Bye.”
Carma stood in the upstairs hallway staring at her phone for so long, she was surprised one of them didn’t come looking for her. As she punched in his number to return the call, butterflies danced in her stomach and her mouth went dry.
“Mateo? Hi. It’s Carma. Mandanici.” She groaned inwardly. As if he didn’t know her last name.
“Oh, hi. Did you get my message?”
“Just now. My cousin is here from Indiana. Our uncle died and his funeral is tomorrow.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Was this an uncle here in town?”
“No. My Uncle Dominick is from Chicago, but he’s being buried here with the rest of our family. We weren’t really close.” She didn’t want to talk about Uncle Dominick, and she hoped he wouldn’t think her callous as she changed the subject. “So, about dinner. I’d love to. How about Wednesday night?”
Carma held her breath as she waited for him to respond. Was that all right that she’d suggested the date? It was obvious he hadn’t known about the funeral when he’d called her. Would he think it was too soon afterward?
“Wednesday is fine, as long as it’s all right with you. You mentioned your cousin was in town. Do you want to spend time with her?”
Sure she did, but this was Mateo Alvarado asking her out. She’d waited years for this. Annalise would understand. “She’ll be here all week. She’s staying with Van and Rowena Whitney, so I’m sure they’ll keep her busy.” Carma didn’t mention Chad and Dustin because she had no idea how Mateo would react if she told him Annalise was also here with her two Doms.
“All right then. Wednesday it is. I’m looking forward to it, Carma. Thank you.”
Carma’s smile was so huge that her cheeks began to ache. She danced silently around the hallway. “Me too, Mateo. Thank you for asking. See you Wednesday.”
After she disconnected the call, Carma put her hand over her mouth and screamed as quietly as possible. She pumped her fists in the air and collapsed on the floor, breathing hard. This was really going to happen. She was going out on a date with Mateo. Not even her Uncle Dominick’s funeral and the terrifying possibility of facing Michael again could ruin this for her.
Chapter Three
“So, you’re from Chicago, eh?” Dan Jeffries, the owner of The Saloon, slapped down another bottle of beer in front of Blaine Peterson. “Where at in Chicago?”
Blaine stared at Dan’s meaty hand then picked up the bottle. He’d only been in Passion Peak one day, but already he felt he had a sense of what it was all about. “Lake View.”
Blaine cut his gaze toward the TV where one of the local news stations was running a story on the Denver Broncos’ upcoming schedule. He tried not to sneer as he brought the bottle to his lips and braced himself for the shit Dan was no doubt about to give him.
“So, you’re a Bears fan, then?”
“Yep.”
“Not too many of them here.”
“I imagine not”
“You staying?”
Blaine studied Dan’s face. He was probably no older than Blaine, but thirty-six looked a hell of a lot better in the mirror than it did on Dan. The man had either had a hard life, or he simply didn’t give a shit what he looked like. “You mean am I living here now?”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant.”
Blaine’s gaze swept around the rough wooden floor, the tables and chairs that had seen better days, and the smattering of customers with dull eyes and slumped shoulders. He’d have to find another place to drink. This place depressed the hell out of him. “Yes, I’m living here now. Just moved into a rented condo on Rabbitbrush Road.”
“Oh, yeah? They just built those, no?”
Blaine took another sip of his beer. “About five years ago, I was told.”
Dan nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Rabbitbrush is pretty nice now. Used to be kind of rundown.”
Blaine made a non-committal noise and tried not to grin. The little bit he’d seen so far of the town all looked kind of rundown to him. He hoped that wouldn’t hold true for the rest of it, because Mateo had made it sound like a charming place. So far, Blaine hadn’t seen any evidence of charm.
When he’d come here two months ago at the end of May for his interview with Notus, he’d been too busy gawking at the majesty of the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains to pay much attention to the tiny towns along Interstate 70 and then State Highway 13 as he’d driven over four hours from Denver International Airport. Maybe he should have paid more attention? Then again, this was a lucrative job and he couldn’t go back to Chicago. No fucking way. If the town turned out to be a shithole, he’d just have to deal with it.
“So, what brought you to Passion Peak?”
“I’m starting at Notus next week as a research and development specialist.”
“Oh, you gonna work on the wind turbines up north?”
“Not exactly.” Blaine glanced briefly toward the door as a trio of women walked in, laughing loudly. “I’m part of an R&D team working on the wireless components that go into them. I’m an electrical engineer.”
One of the women, ash-blonde hair, hard blue eyes, and wearing dusty cowboy boots, gave him a stare that did nothing to conceal her curiosity or her lust. Blaine quickly scanned her face. He suspected she used to be pretty, but hard living had taken care of that. He wasn’t sure if he’d attracted her attention because he’d just revealed his occupation, or because she liked his looks. Either way, he wasn’t interested. After the mess he’d just left behind in Chicago, the last thing he needed was female company.
“Hello, stranger.” She took the stool next to his, wafting cheap perfume across his nose. Her two friends gawked at him. One of them, a blonde with brown eyes who looked slightly drunk, had her jaw open. Blaine was no stranger to female admiration, but if these three were typical of the available women in this town, he was in deep shit.
“Hi there.” His tone was just short of outright rude. Blaine turned his attention back to the TV, where the newscaster was talking about a recent double homicide in a nearby town. Even news of a grisly murder was better than dealing with unwelcome company right now.
“Haven’t seen you around before.” She was persistent. Blaine would give her that much.
“He just moved here, Becca.” Dan’s tone of voice suggested he knew everything about Blaine already.
“Is that so? From where?”
Blaine didn’t take his gaze of the TV screen. “Lake View.”
“Lake View? Is that in Colorado?”
“It’s a neighborhood in Chicago.”
“Oh. You mean you’re from New York?”
He took a sip of beer to cover up his annoyance. Good God in heaven. What the fuck had he done? Facing down drug dealers back home suddenly didn’t look so bad.
“Becca, you’re such a dumbass,” said the blonde with the brown eyes. “Chicago is in Illinois.”
Blaine glanced at her. He was willing to bet she wasn’t exactly a budding genius herself. The dark-haired woman who hadn’t yet spoken gave him a thoughtful look. Blaine drank the rest of his beer, and then he nodded in their general direction. “Yes, that’s right. Chicago is in Illinois.” He threw a ten-dollar bill on the bar and started to slide off the stool, but the dark-haired woman’s voice stopped him.
“You’re not Blaine Peterson, are you?”
Blaine stared at her, wondering if he knew her from somewhere, but her face wasn’t familiar. “I am.”
“I’m Tiffany Fuentes.” She stuck out her hand, and Blaine had no choice but to shake it. It would have looked rude otherwise. “Mateo Alvarado is my cousin, and he told me you were coming to work at Notus.” She gave him a bright smile. “Welcome to Passion Peak.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” All three now looked hopeful, but suddenly the air in the tiny bar was stuffier than when he’d first walked in, and his head was starting to hurt. He had to get out of here and find something to eat. “It was nice meeting all of you. See you around.”
He half-expected one of them to try and convince him to stay, but mercifully they didn’t. Once outside, he gulped in fresh, hot, sticky air. It was going to storm, and from the looks of the lightning streaking across the sky in the west and the sound of rumbling thunder, it was close, and it was a big one. Perfect.
Blaine loved thunderstorms, and since he had nothing else to do, he decided to pick up some food, go home, and watch the storm. He had thought he’d need an entire week to move in, but most of his things were already put away in the condo. They’d even arrived on time this morning to hook up his cable and Internet.
He had furniture and appliances coming tomorrow, and he was getting his hair cut on Saturday from the same stylist that did Mateo’s hair. Blaine wanted to look fresh and ready for his new job, even though he’d be tucked into a lab at work, away from prying eyes. Just the same, he hated looking unkempt. It implied laziness, and Blaine Peterson was anything but.
After choosing Wendy’s for his dinner, he pulled onto Rabbitbrush Road just as fat raindrops splashed on his windshield and lightning flashed, closer now to the sound of thunder. He’d just make it. Once inside his condo, he turned on a local news station while he ate, stopping in the act of bringing a handful of French fries to his mouth at the mention of the Lake View neighborhood of Chicago.
The fries dropped into his lap as the mug shot of his ex-submissive, Larissa Shoals, flashed across the screen. Blaine’s fingers shook slightly as he fumbled for the remote to turn up the sound. He listened to the newscaster tell viewers about the narcotics possession and dealing charges the pretty young woman was facing, and then sighed deeply as other names were mentioned. Names he’d left behind and thought he’d never have to hear again.
Blaine was no longer hungry. He scooped up the fries, rose, and then dumped the rest of the uneaten food into the trashcan. Outside, the wind whipped a row of pine trees sideways and hard rain beat a steady rhythm on the pavement. Thunder and lightning crashed overhead at the same time as the lights flickered a few times then stayed on.
Fuck it all. He should go and find a flashlight just in case the power went out, but he couldn’t seem to move. He was lost in a sea of memories, where Larissa and her associates he’d known nothing about until six months ago floated through his head, like specters in gothic movies, wailing and screeching in the dark.
Ghosts. Yeah, right. If only Larissa and her druggie friends were imaginary creatures. But they were all too real, and this nightmare wasn’t quite over for him. So far, his name had been kept out of it, but for how long? And then what would happen? He could lose his dream job, and this condo, and be forced to return home and face a trial. He might have to testify regardless of whether the DA decided to press charges against him.
It didn’t matter that he’d been totally ignorant of Larissa’s wrongdoings. He’d lived with her. He knew the prosecutor might decide at any moment that there was no way he hadn’t been involved as well, and then it was over for him, no matter the outcome. Once his name was splashed all over the news alongside hers, he’d be lucky to get a job at the Wendy’s he’d just visited.
Chapter Four
It was still raining Tuesday morning when Carma stood at her Uncle Dominick’s gravesite, along with almost every family member she had, but not including her cousin, Michael. He’d never shown, and she hadn’t asked if anyone had heard from him. She’d only breathed countless sighs of relief that she hadn’t had to see his face again.
The rain didn’t smell fresh this morning. It only made the humidity worse, and the entire earth yielded up an odor of rotting vegetables. Or maybe that was only Carma’s imagination? She’d spent the entire service glancing around Our Lady of the Angels church, convinced Michael would come strolling in, cocky and self-assured, just as she remembered him from the summer she’d lived with her Uncle Dominick and her Aunt Shelly in the Lincoln Park neighborhood of Chicago. Shelly wasn’t here either. Her dead uncle’s ex-wife was living in Bermuda, last anyone had heard.
Father Kunkle droned on and on about what a pillar of the community Dominick Mandanici had been, and Carma wondered why the priest was lying through his teeth. Her uncle hadn’t been a pillar of anything other than greed and corruption, and he certainly hadn’t been involved with the town of Passion Peak. His funeral would have been held in Chicago if Aunt Pet hadn’t insisted he be buried here, alongside his ancestors. But why glorify his life now that he was dead and in that box, ready to be dropped six feet under?
Carma glanced sideways at Dominick and Shelly’s children, Nadine and Tim. Her cousins were both grown and married now, and Nadine was pregnant. Had they known what a crook their father was? Carma had known it, and so had her sister. Coco had also spent that summer in Lincoln Park.
Carma had usually gone to Bellefontaine, Ohio to spend the summer with Annalise, but that year Annalise had gone to Sicily with her parents, and because Carma and Coco had been the only cousins who hadn’t yet spent an extended holiday with Uncle Dominick and Aunt Shelley, they’d had no choice.
Carma’s family had started the tradition of having cousins stay over the summers and Christmas holidays after World War II. The family had been scattered by then, with the majority of them staying in Passion Peak. But Carma would spend the rest of her life wishing she and Coco could have simply stayed in Passion Peak that summer with their two brothers, Joe and Frank, and their oldest sister, Caprice, who’d all had jobs in town.
Coco and Nadine had grown quite chummy over that summer in Chicago, and Tim had a girlfriend that he’d spent every waking moment with. Shelly had never been home, and her uncle Dominick might as well have been a ghost for all she actually saw of him.
Carma had been left at their home alone a lot, and even though Michael had been sent away to live with other relatives after a few weeks, Carma had lived in constant fear he’d return when no one else was in the house. Right before he’d been sent away, he’d told her that he would come back to finish what he’d started with her.
She’d just graduated from high school, like Michael, but he was much bigger and stronger than her, If he had returned, what defense would she have had against him?
She gave Tim and Nadine another glance. Did they know what their
brother had tried to do to her that summer? Would they have believed her even if she’d found the courage to tell them? They only knew that Michael had been arrested for stealing a car with his friends, and then their parents had sent him out of the state where he couldn’t hang out with his hoodlum friends and get into more trouble.
Carma began to tremble as the memories forced their way to the surface. She swallowed several times against the lump in her throat, wishing she could simply leave.
She closed her eyes and forced her mind to go blank. It had been her only defense during that long summer, and each time since then when the memories and dreams overwhelmed her. It was the only way she knew to stop the images from crowding her mind, and keep the fear at bay.
Beads of sweat collected along her hairline. Her underarms felt damp, and she didn’t understand why everyone around her was still holding umbrellas. Surely it wasn’t still raining. It was too hot and the air was dry. Couldn’t they see that?
She caught movement to her right as Annalise, Chad, and Dustin turned to leave. Carma blinked a few times, glancing around. The service was over. Soft rain made tapping sounds on the tent above the gravesite, where her great aunts Petronella and Rosario were talking with Father Kunkle. A chilly wind blew across her face.
“You coming?” asked Annalise.
Carma gazed into her cousin’s eyes and reined in her emotions as a quick look of concern and confusion filled Annalise’s face. “Sure. Almost fell asleep there for a minute.” Was it a sin to lie at a funeral?
Annalise chuckled softly. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Come on. Let’s go eat.”
“I don’t want to.” She couldn’t. She simply couldn’t sit in the basement of the Nuncio Funeral Home eating warmed-up pasta and cold sandwiches, while she tried to make small talk with her family. Annalise, Chad and Dustin would be here all week, and she lived within walking distance of Rowena and Van’s house. She could visit with them later.
