Alison and her brother had always been comfortable with silence, but she had the distinct impression, given his usual absence during dish washing, the man had something on his mind. “How are things with you?” She asked casually.
“Oh, fine. And you?” He didn’t look up as he loaded the last of the knives into the dishwasher.
Alison shrugged. “Uneventful.”
Chad nodded. “Seeing anyone?” An image of Bryce shot through Alison’s head along with a flush of heat to her face, causing her to drop a blue serving platter in the sink. She cringed at the loud clink the plate made as it hit the bottom of the sink.
“Shit.”
Chad chuckled. “Am I to take that as a yes?”
Lifting the large blue plate up, and inspecting it for cracks, Alison feigned ignorance. “What?”
Chad leaned on the counter and smirked. “Who is she?”
Determining the plate was undamaged, Alison placed it in the dishwasher. “Who?”
“Whoever is causing you to blush like that.” Chad picked his glass of wine up and took a drink.
Dropping the detergent pellet into the dispenser, Alison closed the dishwasher’s door and pressed the wash button. Before she could reach for the small white hand towel next to Chad, her brother grabbed it and hid it behind his back. “So?”
Her hands still dripping with water, Alison felt a surge of annoyance with her brother. “It’s nothing.”
Chad’s eyebrows shot up. “You admit there is someone to quantify as a nothing.”
Alison rolled her eyes. “And to think, some disreputable institution gave you a degree with that kind of logic.”
Chad shook his head while still clutching the towel behind his back. “I won’t be distracted. What gives?”
Alison playfully flicked water at her brother, who instinctively started to wipe his face with the hostage hand towel, affording Alison the opportunity to grab it from him. “Serves you right.” She flung the now damp towel at the amused man. “And for the record, it really is nothing.”
Chad tossed the towel on the counter. “I have news.”
“I assumed something was going on given your sudden interest in dishes.” Alison reached for Chad’s glass of wine and took a drink. “Spill it, brother.”
Looking over his shoulder toward the deck and then past Alison to ensure they were alone, a sadness flashed across his eyes. “Gayle has decided to pursue alternative medicines for the infertility issue.”
Her brother’s tone and body language told Alison he didn’t agree with this approach. “That’s becoming more popular these days.” She didn’t know very much about the process or the means, but one of the administrative assistants at the university had success with a variety of Chinese herbs, in spite of being nearly forty-three when she conceived.
“It just seems like a last desperate lunge.” Shaking his head, Chad poured himself another glass of wine.
“Assuming you keep her doctor in the loop, it’s not desperate. It’s just broadening your options.” She squeezed her brother’s shoulder reassuringly.
“I guess.” Chad glanced back toward the deck as a wave of laughter filled the house. “I want her happy, and this seems to be what she wants.”
“What are you two chatting about in here?” Julia walked in the kitchen, an empty glass in her hand.
Alison took a step back from Chad and gave him a supportive smile. Managing a casual tone, the man smirked at his older sister. “I came in for a new bottle of wine, and our sister roped me into helping her with the dishes.”
“You’ve dodged the chore enough over the years, seems fair.” Julia nudged Chad’s shoulder as she reached around him for the bottle of Maker’s Mark. “Hey Ali, I didn’t want to say anything in front of Dad, but I might be able to redeem myself on the whole blind dating front.”
Alison shook her head. “Nope. Forget it, Jules.”
Chad took the opportunity to grab the now half empty bottle of wine and leave without a word. “Coward.” Alison scowled at her retreating brother.
“So you’ll go?” Julia asked as she refilled her glass with the caramel colored bourbon.
Unable and unwilling to stifle a mocking laugh, Alison began walking toward the back door. “Ah, no.”
Julia took several quick steps to catch up with her annoyed sister and, grabbing her wrist, spun her around. “But I’ve felt terrible about what happened with Robyn.”
Alison looked intently at her sister, who she knew had nothing but her best interest at heart. She was such a bulldozer in her execution, though, that Alison wanted to shake her. “I’m doing okay on that front, Jules; so don’t feel bad.” Seeing the surprised expression on her sister’s face, Alison immediately regretted she had said anything.
“Really? Then you’re seeing someone?” Julia grinned.
“Well, no - not exactly. No.” She took a step back, wanting desperately to escape what she knew would be something akin to the Inquisition.
“Then what’s the problem?” Julia took a long drink of her Maker’s Mark.
Sighing, Alison leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. “The problem is I don’t want you fixing me up. We have - well, we don’t have compatible tastes.”
“What does that mean?” Julia had gone from sales person to interrogator in half a second.
“It doesn’t mean anything, except what I said. We have different tastes. Not better, not worse, just different. Frankly Jules, what could you possibly know about women from a dating perspective?”
Julia’s shoulders set, and her expression went flat. “Clearly not much less than you given your dating history.”
The low blow hurt Alison, but she knew better than to let her sister see, as it would only spur her on. “I don’t want to argue, Julia. Can we just agree the set-up thing is a bad idea?”
Julia pursed her lips as she looked at Alison. Considering she was still firmly planted with her shoulders squared, Alison held out very little hope her older sister was going to call a truce.
“There you two are.” Elaine walked past the two women. “We need more wine out there.” The woman grabbed another bottle of Joel Gott from the rack that lined the farthest wall of the kitchen and paused when she reached her two daughters. Her eyes moved back and forth between the two women as they glared at each other. “Whatever this is, ladies, wrap it up and get back to the group ASAP.”
Instantly Alison’s tension released. Her mother had always approached her children’s spats in a matter-of-fact manner, refusing to acknowledge them as anything more than childish antics.
Julia turned to follow Elaine back to the deck. “We’ll discuss later." she muttered to Alison as she walked past.
Frowning, Alison followed the two women down the hall, hopeful her sister’s sudden interest in her social life would wane sooner rather than later.
Chapter 5
Stroke, stroke, breathe. Stroke, stroke, breathe. Alison had repeated the same mantra in her mind for over twenty years. She began swimming competitively her freshman year of high school and had continued until her junior year at UNC, when she had to decide whether to pursue her academics more vigorously or take her swimming to the next level. Knowing the relatively short professional life of a competitive swimmer, she had opted for a more sustainable path.
Three times a week she came to the university pool and swam laps, proud she had maintained the form and fitness necessary for the butterfly stroke. Stretching for the wall at the end of her last lap, Alison grabbed the side of the pool, enjoying the burn in her legs and arms.
Pulling the black Speedo latex swim cap off, Alison leaned her head back in the water, smoothing her tousled hair. Wiping the water from her eyes, a quick flicker of heat shot through her as she looked up and saw Bryce standing near the bleachers talking to a petite, middle aged Hispanic woman.
The women stood with their backs to the pool. Both were wearing form fitting swimsuits, but Alison could only see Bryce. The wom
an’s legs were flawlessly toned, her arms were a perfect balance of definition without being too bulky, and the navy blue swimsuit clung to her in just the right places. Alison loved the woman’s long, thick auburn hair, but found the sight of it pulled up in a tight bun, exposing Bryce’s long neck, even more enticing.
Having never blushed in a pool before, Alison waited for the heat in her face to subside before she pulled herself up and out of the water. Grabbing the small, black hydro towel she had left next to the pool, she wiped the excess water off her arms and legs before adjusting the shoulder straps on her black Speedo swimsuit.
Grabbing at a moment’s courage, Alison walked over to the women. The large aquatic center was filled with the echoes of splashing water and enthusiastic co-eds as she approached the two women.
“Hey, Bryce.” She had wanted to say something clever and brilliant, but evidently two syllables were the extent of her charm this evening.
Both women turned around. There was a flicker of excitement across Bryce’s eyes, followed immediately by a broad smile. “Alison, hi. What are you doing here?”
“Playing rugby, and you?” Alison looked at the Hispanic woman, who laughed.
Bryce winced. “Sorry, stupid question.” The other woman cleared her throat. Bryce looked at her and then shook her head. “Oh, god, sorry. Sylvia, this is Bryce - ah, I mean Alison, this is Sylvia.”
Alison was torn between being amused at Bryce’s social awkwardness and feeling sorry for her. Extending her hand, Alison greeted the shorter woman. “Nice to meet you. How do you know Bryce?”
The woman smiled warmly at Alison. “We’re taking a swimming kinesiology class together.”
Alison let the woman’s hand go and looked at Bryce. “Really? Where do you find the time? I mean my class, at least one night course, and now swimming. When do you sleep?”
Bryce chewed nervously on the inside of her bottom lip and Alison thought it was the sexiest thing she had ever seen. “I manage.” Bryce responded.
Alison nodded, and the awkward silence was broken by a stout Caucasian man in a pair of yellow swim trunks and a well-worn gray University of the Incarnate Word t-shirt walking briskly past the three women. “Okay ladies and gentlemen, let’s get our fannies in the water.”
Sylvia fell in behind the man. “Nice to meet you, Alison.”
Bryce shrugged. “That’s the instructor. Have to go.” She hesitated like she wanted to say something, but as quickly as the inquisitive look crossed her face, it was gone. “See you later?”
Alison nodded. “Evidently we can’t help ourselves.”
Bryce chuckled, managed an awkward wave, and walked after Sylvia toward the opposite end of the pool where she joined ten other swimmers. Not able to help herself, Alison decided to sit down on the aluminum bleachers and watch the class.
It was obvious from the start that Bryce did not know how to swim. In spite of her beautiful lean body, she moved through the water like a spasming hippopotamus. The instructor was patient and took additional time to assist the clumsy woman with her technique.
Bryce struggled with the basics; she was unable to relax her body and lay flat in the water. Alison covered her mouth, hiding her amusement at watching the woman’s backside bob up and down in the water as she attempted a breast stroke.
After ten minutes, Alison started to feel guilty about her voyeurism and walked toward the locker-room. She entered the locker lined, white tiled room. It smelled of chlorine and Chanel No. 5, mixed with a myriad of floral scented soaps and shampoos.
It was nearly eight o’clock at night. The evening rush had thinned, and those left in the aquatic center were still in the pool; so Alison stood alone as she spun the combination lock on her locker. Distracted by how Bryce had managed to still look gorgeous while making a spectacle of herself, Alison shook her head as she made the third attempt to enter in the combination.
Finally opening the locker, Alison grabbed the bottle of Paul Mitchell shampoo, a navy blue bath towel, and her purple shower flip flops. Winding her way through the maze of lockers, sinks, and changing rooms, Alison walked into one of five shower stalls. Each stall had a frosted, plastic curtain and a white tile dividing wall that came to Alison’s shoulders.
Putting her toiletries on the narrow stainless steel shelf at the back of the stall, Alison pulled the curtain closed, peeled off her black Speedo swimsuit, and draped it over the half wall along with her towel. Turning the water on, she stood to the side of the stream, waiting for it to heat up.
Glancing down the row of stalls, and realizing she was the only one using the showers, Alison stepped under the hot water, tilted her head back, rinsing the excess chlorine out. A sudden wave of vertigo washed over her, and she grabbed for the shower wall. Her stomach knotted, and for a split second she thought she might vomit. Leaning her forehead against the cool tile of the stall to steady herself, Alison took several deep breaths, water from her short wet locks streaming down her face.
“Hello, Professor Bailey.” Christine’s voice came from directly behind Alison.
Spinning around, Alison pressed her back against the wall, her eyes wide with panic as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “How did you get in here?”
The woman stood on her tip-toes, her arms crossed and resting on the top of the dividing wall as her eyes roamed up and down Alison’s naked body. “I see the swimming has kept you very fit.”
The woman’s exaggerated smile sent a chill up Alison’s spine as she grabbed for the bath towel and quickly wrapped it around her naked body. “I’m calling campus security.” Alison forced the confidence into her voice as she pulled the shower curtain back.
Christine suddenly stood face-to-face with the blonde, her voice a whisper. “Are you certain?”
The woman was at least two inches shorter than Alison, but managed to square her shoulders and set her jaw in such a way that she was more intimidating than her small frame would suggest. Looking past the woman, Alison could see the blue emergency call box on the wall near the end of the showers. “What?”
“I asked if you’re certain you want to call security.” Christine’s voice was low and seductive as she ran her index finger along Alison’s bare, wet shoulder.
Revulsion at the woman’s touch shot through Alison and, clutching the towel tighter to her body, she pushed past the smaller woman. “Move!”
“Why so testy, professor?” The woman began laughing, the high-pitched cackle echoing off the tile. “It’s just us girls.”
Practically ripping the phone receiver out of the wall, Alison spun around to face Christine. Campus police. What’s your emergency?
Mouth open, and eyes wide, Alison stared at the empty shower stalls. The only exit was where Alison now stood, and yet Christine was gone. Hello, is anyone there? The operator’s voice broke through Alison’s shock.
Alison cleared her throat. “My mistake. Sorry.” A series of clicks and Alison was standing, alone, with the black phone receiver clutched in her hand. The only sound was the running water coming from the shower she had exited moments before.
Her hand shaking, Alison missed the receiver handle on her first attempt to hang the phone up, and only managed on her second try by using both hands. Clutching the blue towel to her, Alison took two tentative steps forward. “Hello?”
Her voice sounded hollow as she slowly walked back toward the shower stall. Her shoulders ached from tension, and her legs trembled as adrenaline continued to course through her. She knew the woman could still be in one of the stalls and simply crouching behind a divider wall.
I should have had the police come anyway, Alison thought. But she knew she would have a hard time explaining what had happened, and the last thing she needed was rumors going around campus about the professor who went around the bend in the showers.
The first two stalls were empty, as was the one Alison had occupied. Turning the water off, Alison felt sour bile rising to the back of her throat as she nervously peered
over the dividing wall into another empty shower stall.
With only one stall left, Alison stepped around the tile wall and into the adjacent stall. Summoning her courage, her heart pounding in her ears, she leaned over to find the stall as empty as the other four.
Stepping out into the walkway, Alison felt numb. She gathered her belongings from the shower and walked back into the main locker room. Sitting on one of the metal benches that lined the wall near her locker, Alison stared blankly at the floor. I’m having a breakdown. Or some late onset schizophrenia.
Just as she was resolving to see a therapist, several swimsuit clad women rounded the corner. To Alison’s dismay, one of them was Bryce. She was rattled enough without having to act cool with the beautiful redhead.
“Oh, Alison, I didn’t know you were still here.” Bryce’s tone was casual as she stood next to a slouching Alison.
Wiping at her face, Alison’s pride pulled her up off the bench. “Just wrapping up.” Her throat was tight, and she suddenly had an overwhelming urge to sob uncontrollably. Turning her back to Bryce, Alison began fumbling with her combination lock. “Shit!” Her frustration surged and she slammed the lock against the locker.
A cool hand wrapped around Alison’s and gently turned the anxious woman around. “Are you okay?” Bryce looked at Alison, her green eyes full of concern. “Do you need something?”
The question, along with the intensity of Bryce’s stare, caught Alison off-guard and it was several seconds before she could speak. “I’m - I’m okay, thanks.” She slowly pulled her hand free of Bryce’s.
The two women stood staring at each other, Bryce in her swimsuit and Alison wrapped in a towel. Suddenly, and without warning, longing rippled through Alison, and she thought she might sink from the burden of it.
“You look - upset.” Bryce had taken a step toward Alison, and her voice was low.
When did she get so close? A swirling had started in Alison’s stomach that was threatening to spin out of control with the nearness of Bryce. “It’s -”
“There you are.” Sylvia’s voice charged into the tight space between Bryce and Alison, breaking the moment, and slamming Alison back to earth.
Dying Forever (Waking Forever Book 3) Page 6
