by Theresa Weir
“Whatever,” he said.
She needed to rest. She needed to forget about work. She needed a change of scene.
“Let’s go to my cabin for the week.”
Suddenly, William stood up and started growling. He ran into the kitchen and then to the back door and then dug at the carpet in the middle of the living room, snarling and whimpering and barking.
Barking mad might explain a few things… Stephanie went to him.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” She petted him but he wouldn’t be soothed. “What is it?”
She looked to Gabe. That, at least, was a good sign that she wasn’t crazy. He shook his head. The dog circled the room, sniffing and digging, then stared at Steph. If Gabe didn’t know better, he’d say the dog’s eyes were pleading with her.
Gabe shook his head.
He couldn’t let this cockamamie story get to him.
William rushed to the back door again, and Stephanie let him out where he ran around the yard and barked some more. Lucy followed but didn’t seem inclined to join in; only curious about the fuss. That made two of them.
They walked onto the back deck. Gabe slipped his hand around Steph’s. “Maybe—”
“Don’t.” She pulled away. “Don’t say anything bad about him.”
“Hey,” came a voice from below them. “What’s all that racket?”
Mr. Weinperth poked his head out of the basement.
“See,” Stephanie said to Gabe. “There’s a reason for everything.” She waved to Mr. Weinperth. “Good evening.”
“Evening you two. Heard you got yourself a dog, Stephanie. Sorry if I upset him.”
“That’s okay. He didn’t like it when Mrs. Spangler was down there, either.” She turned to Gabe with a smile. “He doesn’t like basements any more than I do.”
She was grasping at straws. Had he made a mistake? He’d been in love with her for so long, but that had been an adolescent craving for a young girl. What did he really know about the grown-up Stephanie? Had she been spending too much time with the likes of Heather? He stopped looking for excuses. He knew plenty about her. He had talked to Martha regularly…but she was her mother. Not exactly an unbiased source.
Then again, dogs did sense things that people missed.
“I’ll check it out,” he said.
He ducked under the deck and shook hands with Mr. Weinperth as he went by. The old guy still had a hell of a grip.
“Good thing, that dog,” Mr. Weinperth continued to Steph. “A girl shouldn’t be alone.”
Gabe couldn’t agree more. He checked the breaker box first, but all was in order there. He stood for a moment, sniffing for anything that didn’t smell right, then looking for something out of place. Mr. Weinperth had started building a new birdhouse. His tools were always clean and organized. He’d been using the table saw recently, but not tonight or they would have heard it upstairs. Even that had a vacuum hooked up to collect the dust. William had probably heard the old guy banging around down here, and that’s what he was barking at. Nothing more.
He went outside. Steph and Mr. Weinperth were admiring the new moon. He thought of Heather, again. He’d never known the girl, only knew that she was Stephanie’s best friend and she was the exact opposite of Steph and maybe that’s where the attraction was. There’d be no burnt offerings tonight.
Except for the fire he’d be lighting in Steph when he returned later.
He’d go home and pack up his and Lucy’s gear, and they could leave for the lake first thing.
“Pretty night,” he said as he approached.
“Yep,” Mr. Weinperth agreed. “I think I’ll close up shop and make myself a cup of tea. You two youngsters care to join me?”
“Some other time,” Stephanie said.
“Not tonight,” Gabe said.
Mr. Weinperth gave a jaunty salute and went down the steps to the basement. William sat nearby watching him closely, his head cocked to one side.
Gabe took Steph’s shoulders. “I’m going home but I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Say you’ll come to the cabin with me.”
She looked at him with her head tilted slightly, just like the dog’s, and smiled. “This afternoon—”
“Was amazing.”
“That too.”
He touched her silky hair, moved it off her shoulder. “You were going to say something else?”
“I really think we should slow down.”
“We’ve waited thirty years, Steph. I think that’s long enough.”
“I know. It feels right to me, too. But so much has happened in the last couple of days. Losing my job…”
“You worked too hard.”
A pained look crossed her face.
“What? You did.”
“Maybe. It’s just that…”
Gabe took her in his arms. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
She dug her fingers into his shoulders, and he felt a sob push through her. He picked her up, carried her inside, and sat on the couch with her in his lap. She buried her face in his neck.
“I feel so lost.” She sniffed for a few minutes, trying to get it under control. “I think I got lost when my father left.”
Gabe knew most of the story from Martha. But not Stephanie’s side of it. He’d never known his own father. Wasn’t sure if his mother had even known which of her “special friends” had been the sperm donor. “Dirt bag,” he said, thinking it applied to both of their sires.
She laughed a little at that, sat up and wiped her eyes. “You know what he told me?”
Gabe shook his head.
“He said I was lazy and should look for a rich husband because I’d never be able to take care of myself.” She covered her cheeks with her hands. “Guess I proved him wrong, huh?”
That was why she’d never married. Not because of a betrayal from another lifetime. “It doesn’t matter—”
“Let me finish.” She took a deep breath. “Mom married for love, or so she thought. Look where that got her. I’m not sure she ever stopped loving the…”
“Dirt bag,” Gabe finished for her.
She smiled. “I was determined not to end up like her. But in the process of proving Dad wrong, I ended up like her anyway. Alone.”
She slumped against him again. He rubbed her back sensing this was a good time to shut up and listen. He didn’t get the feeling she was soliciting advice, anyway. He glanced at the dogs. William curled in the easy chair, and Lucy, who wasn’t allowed on the furniture, lay on the floor next to it. He and Steph would be having a conversation about the place of dogs in the home.
Steph continued. “I don’t know if I ever really knew who I was. And now all this.” She looked over at the dogs, too, and paused before going on. “What was I thinking? Tomorrow’s Monday.” She stopped for another big breath. “What am I going to do? My whole life, the answer to all my questions was work.”
Gabe stroked her back and inhaled the scent of her. He couldn’t take much more of her sitting on his lap. He either had to leave or get her naked.
“It’s okay to take a break. Think about coming up to the cabin. You don’t have to do anything. We don’t have to do anything. Heck, you can have the place to yourself. I’ll go fishing. Bring a stack of books. Sit on the porch and drink coffee—”
Stephanie jumped to her feet. “Shit.”
William came to attention, and Gabe stood up, too. “What?”
“I completely forgot. It’s Mother’s Day.”
Gabe blinked. It took him a moment, but then it came back. Coffee. Martha’s coffee.
“See what I mean?” she said. “That proves I’m out of my mind. You have to go.”
“I’m coming back.”
“No, please. Not tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” She walked briskly to the door.
Gabe followed, swearing to himself, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation. They weren’t moving too fast, and the cabin was the perfect place for her to chill out and think about w
hat to do next. He’d meant what he’d said about leaving her alone. It would kill him, but he would do it if that’s what she wanted. He’d concede tonight. What he wouldn’t do was give up on them.
At the door, he kissed her deeply and she returned it before giving him a playful shove.
“Scoot. I need to make some coffee.”
Chapter 10
I heard the lock turn from the outside. Of course Gabe had his own key. The deadbolt required a key on the inside, too, and I wondered where mine was. I usually put that and my handbag on the hall table. Routine, routine, routine. But there had been nothing usual since I left the office on Friday. After the attack Saturday…my keys could be anywhere.
I put away the leftovers, cleaned the dishes, crumpled our fortunes into the trash. Good things coming and Long life. Good fortunes. Gabe’s mouth had lazed into his wry smile when he’d read his about good things, but he hadn’t shared it at dinner. Right now, for me, that long life stretched out—empty.
After separating a few of the frozen cubes of Mom’s coffee to heat and transferring the rest to a plastic storage bag, I noted how full my refrigerator was. Not full, not yet, but it held a few basics. Eggs, bacon, cheese, milk, juice, beer, leftovers. Signs of life. I pulled over a chair and sat with the door open, staring at the brightly lit interior until my eyes grew dry from not blinking. William sat next to me, feigning equal interest in the gleaming white space.
“Just a couple of days ago,” I said to him, “I had work.” I petted his head, smoothing his ears. “It was all I had and my fridge was empty.” He pressed his head up against my hand. “Now, I have no job and look—” I gestured toward the metal and glass shelves. “Stuff. Like magic.”
William stood and sniffed the stuff, looked at me. I indicated the apartment with a wave of my arm. “And you. You’re big stuff. You fill up the rest of this space.” He wagged his tail. “I don’t know what it means…maybe nothing.”
I shut the door and poured my coffee. The Conqueror followed me to the living room and sat next to me on the couch.
“I’m not talking to myself, you know. That would be crazy. I’m talking to you. Which might be worse. Not sure.”
I lifted my cup to a picture of my mother on the mantle. “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.” I felt a tear slip down my cheek. I nodded and took a drink. “Yes, you warned me.”
William wormed closer, and I wove my fingers deep into his coat.
“She warned me about all work and no play.” I set the cup on the table next to the couch and eyed the unopened bottle of Scotch from Friday night. “Tomorrow’s Monday, William.
He blinked his big, brown eyes at me. They were rimmed in black and had dark, fathomless pupils. I got the Scotch and added a generous dollop to my coffee.
“Tomorrow’s Monday,” I said again. “And I don’t know what it looks like.”
Painful pressure clutched my chest, stealing my breath. It grabbed my throat and pounded into my head to lodge behind my eyes. Years of unshed tears pressed forward. I didn’t want to let them out. Couldn’t stop them. They flowed.
Unbidden. Unwanted. Unstoppable.
After a while, my body went limp and light. I could float away. How nice it would be to go, to be untethered. A kindness. William put his heavy paw on my leg as if to hold me down, keep me here. I didn’t want that. Didn’t want to be anywhere. He licked moisture from my hand where it had dripped like ancient torture.
“Good boy,” I croaked. “Good boy.” I scratched his back, and his hind leg kicked into motion. That lurch of knowingness hit me again, that sense of deep connection, and I wondered about the dreams and everything Heather had said. Some part of me knew and expected and understood William at my core. He had been waiting for me and felt all the same things. He rolled over and presented his belly for a rub, and we both smiled as I obliged.
“You’re right,” I murmured. “That’s enough introspection for a lifetime, huh?” I leaned down and smushed my face into his ruff. He smelled of oatmeal shampoo and damp earth and still a little doggie. Just right.
A thump from the basement brought us both to our feet. Mr. Weinperth? I thought he’d closed things up hours ago. William stilled and looked at me.
“Let’s go find out,” I said.
He slid to the floor, and we went out the back. William the Conqueror took up a position at the top of the stone basement steps, sniffing the air with a low growl. He was a handsome devil. Whoever he’d been way back when, I understood how the priestess had fallen for him. As if I didn’t already know, it hit me that I loved this dog more than anything I had ever loved. Or anyone. This new and unexpected feeling filled me up and knocked me back a step at the same time.
“Mr. Weinperth?”
“Stephanie, that you?” He answered from within. “Sorry for the noise. Decided to go ahead and finish this birdhouse. I promised it to the kids at the Center.”
I heard the latches snap shut on a toolbox.
“Everything okay with you?” he asked.
If I indicated in the slightest I wasn’t okay, if the old soldier caught sight of my face, I’d be here all night listening to a lecture about mental resilience. And I lacked the mental resilience for that right then. “I’m fine. Have a good night.”
I left William to do his business, thinking I needed to put poop-scooping materials on my shopping list, and went back inside.
The apartment, which for years had mostly been merely a place to lay my head, felt homier with William in it. But without him glued to my side, it loomed large and hungry, like it could swallow me. I didn’t know how a dog could become so important in two-and-a-half days, but they had been odd days. I didn’t know how I could be so tired, either, and although the thought of a Monday morning without a million things to do scared the living crap out of me, the lure of a day off held distinct appeal. It was all the empty days after that worried me.
I settled myself back into the couch to flip through a five-year-old copy of Good Housekeeping and wait for William. I’d purposely kept Gabe at the periphery of my mind, but pieces of him kept startling me. His scent, the feel of his skin, how well we’d fit. Being with him had been the most natural and strangest thing I’d ever done. Did I want more? Well, of course I wanted more of that. But a relationship? I didn’t know which terrified me more—not having a job or having a man. Not just any man. The only man I had ever really cared about.
What are you feeling, Stephanie?
I think…
FEELings.
Oh, right, FEELings.
Confusion. Fear. Crazy. Love. Calm.
The calmness worried me. Another item for my to-do list: call my therapist first thing. Monday began to have a shape. Jean would be so happy to hear that I was not only having feelings but also actually naming them. A true breakthrough. And all it had taken was getting laid off, getting a dog, getting messages from a previous life, getting attacked, and getting…some good sex. Really, really good sex. Yeah, I wanted more of that. Why Jean hadn’t suggested this approach before, I couldn’t imagine.
I dozed off daydreaming about going to the lake with Gabe.
Fire. Screaming. Smoke. Coughing.
The tunnel. I had forgotten. I must save my people. We move barrels and sacks, blinded by smoke and tears, barely able to draw breath. The ceiling is caving in. It is hot and the smoke is thick. I cover my nose and mouth and push the maidens through the opening. For the second time this night, I feel the old ones near. The mothers are next.
A crone takes my hand. Together, we stumble into the cool and silent darkness.
In the distance, barking. Insistent. I must save my people. Huh? I waved off the now familiar stench of smoke and blinked myself away from the fierce crackling of the fire, wondering what William was barking at now.
The lights flickered. William scrabbled frantically at the back door.
How long had I slept? Had I even been sleeping? Poor guy. We hadn’t been separated for more than a few minutes since Fr
iday. And what was going on with the air conditioning? It was hot as—
The lights dimmed and went out.
William jumped up and down, pummeling the back window. I could hear his claws against the glass. He howled.
I stood, finally fully awake, and knew. The house was on fire.
Fear latched on to me with inexorable force. I stood there. Frozen. Smoke crept through the floorboards and around the basement door. That fierce crackling roared just beyond it.
This wasn’t a dream…save my people.
Oh, God. Mrs. Spangler. Mr. Weinperth.
The basement door burst into flames blocking the stairs up and the back way out. Still, I stood. My mind was very clear. The front door was locked and I had no idea where my keys were, couldn’t go upstairs to look for them. Something propelled me through the dark toward the front anyway. I fell over a chair and landed hard on my hands and knees. My throat began to close, and I wasn’t sure if that high-pitched whine in my ears was my breathing or sirens.
Flames reached the ceiling. William’s voice reached me, hoarse with howling. I could almost make out a name being called—mine? At least he would be all right. I could try a window but my body wouldn’t move. I lay on the floor and closed my eyes, imagining clear water and fresh-mowed grass.
The air around me turned cool and a shimmering bubble of light pierced the smoky darkness. I felt my mother bend over me and put her palm along my cheek. I gulped air fresh as newly sliced cucumbers and smelled her perfume.
“Time to get up, baby girl,” she said and stroked my hair. “Get up, my girl.”
I pushed myself into a sitting position. Across from me in the dining room window hovered a luminous figure draped in white. She waved me toward her. I knew her. The priestess.
I began to crawl in that direction. The smoke was thick, the floor hot. The glowing light receded, and I coughed as the boiling smoke filled me again. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t the priestess.
The window shattered. William burst through. He rushed to my side and grabbed my shirt and dragged me the rest of the way. Outside, Mrs. Spangler in her white bathrobe.
