Black Ember

by Ruby Laska

  Kim took Cal’s arm and they made their way down the aisle to a murmured chorus of oohs and aahs. They made a gorgeous couple, as did Chase and Tonda, and Jimmy and Deneen. Finally, it was Caryn’s turn. She bit her lip and took her first step, the memory of all those other weddings propelling her feet, step-pause-stepping across the grass.

  “You look incredible,” Zane whispered when she reached him. He reached for her hand and squeezed it before tucking it under his arm, and then they were walking, together, down the aisle past all those guests.

  Caryn was no stranger to the public eye. She’d been front row at half a dozen fashion weeks, countless charity events, photo shoots, and interviews. But she’d never felt as self-conscious as she did in the interminable moments it took her to reach the festooned arch. The people all around her didn’t know she was a fraud, that she’d taken advantage of their hospitality under false pretenses. She could barely look Deneen in the eye as she passed, and when Zane released her arm, she turned away before she could look at him.

  After that, the wedding proceeded as weddings do, while Caryn felt numb to the sights and sounds around her. She stood perfectly still, her bouquet at her waist, her smile pasted in place. She could barely pay attention, she was working so hard not to cry. When the vows were said and the happy couple turned to face their guests, and the pastor announced “Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Jarrett,” she managed to make the return trip down the aisle without ever looking at Zane. When they reached the back of the congregation they were surrounded by well-wishers, and Caryn slipped away from Zane to stand with the other bridesmaids in the informal receiving line.

  This, she could do. Caryn could make bland, pleasant conversation all day long, if she had to, with all these nice people who’d come to celebrate with Matthew and Jayne, and they’d never know that they’d been speaking to a low-down liar. Not, that is, until the first wave of paparazzi showed up and broke the news to the waiting world.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Carrie was avoiding him. At first Zane hadn’t been sure—the bridesmaids seemed to be required to do a lot of specialized tasks involving Jayne’s dress and the flowers and leading people to the buffet tables—but after she somehow managed to switch places with one of the other girls so she was seated at the other end of the table, there wasn’t any reason to doubt.

  The sun had nearly set and it was turning into a perfect spring evening by the time everyone had been served and the three-piece band was playing muted instrumental versions of old country ballads. Everyone gushed over the seared medallions of beef and the stuffed jumbo shrimp, the plates piled high with dishes made from the best summer produce, the wine served by the busy caterers. Matthew and Jayne were flushed with happiness, staring dreamily at each other instead of eating.

  As for Zane, the few bites he took tasted like cardboard. He’d nearly made up his mind to kick Chase out of his chair so he could talk to Carrie when someone started tapping silverware against a glass, calling for toasts. Zane sighed and sat back with his arms folded, half listening to Jayne’s father’s toast, and then Matthew’s stepmom.

  Then Deneen took the stage and told a story about her sister that must have been funny because the cool evening erupted with laughter and Jayne blushed a pretty shade of pink. Zane clapped along with everyone else, trying to pretend that his heart wasn’t being twisted into knots by a woman who was apparently going to do to him what he’d done so many times before: run away from a relationship that barely had a chance to get off the ground.

  “And now I’ll turn the microphone over to our dear friend Zane Olivo,” Deneen said. “Matthew and Zane have known each other since neither one of them had front teeth.”

  Shit. The toast. In the moments since he first spotted Carrie in that girlie gown, her hair stripped of its harsh dye and her beautiful golden eyes unencumbered by heavy makeup, he had lost his heart to her all over again, only to have her ignore him completely. They’d walked together, as a couple, two hundred people’s attention fixed on them as she held his arm and smiled. But she might as well have been holding a bag of groceries, and the smile—which might fool everyone else—was not real. How Zane knew that after only a few days with her, he wasn’t sure, but he would have staked his life on it.

  And now he was supposed to stand up in front of the same people and deliver the remarks that he had prepared and then forgotten. Maybe his words would come back to him, he prayed as he stumbled up from his chair and up to the podium where Deneen waited expectantly. Maybe once he got started, he could forget about Carrie, even just for the few minutes it would take to get through the blasted speech. And then he could go hide out in the barn and eat his heart out or, barring that, get rip-roaring drunk with the other dateless losers.

  He took the microphone and looked out at the crowd and instantly locked eyes with Carrie. She looked beautiful, a section of her highlighted blond hair swooping down over her eyes, the purple dress showing off her bare, milky shoulders. But she didn’t look happy. Her eyes were full of regret, and that stung him more than anything else. She considered their time together a mistake. She wished they’d never spent that night together. She was just trying to get through this stupid wedding so she could put this town, these people, this night behind her.

  She’d warned him—a rolling stone, that’s what she’d called herself, here only briefly, then moving on. Only, he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Silently, he beseeched her with his eyes—to acknowledge him, to give him some sign that she felt what he felt.

  But she only looked away.

  Zane cleared his throat. God, he was failing up here. Up and down the attendants’ table, his friends were staring at him expectantly. Deneen was starting to look panicked, as though she was going to jump up and snatch the microphone back from him. He couldn’t do this to Matthew and Jayne, couldn’t let them down like this.

  Focus, he ordered himself, much as he had in the courtroom so many times. He shut his eyes for a moment and gritted his teeth and dug deep for the words he had planned to say, and when he opened them again, he was Mr. Teflon, smooth talker and even smoother operator, and everyone relaxed when he started to tell the lies he’d prepared for his best friends in the world.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Marriage isn’t for everyone,” Zane began, looking straight at her. The words felt like a sharpened, cold dagger poking into Caryn’s heart. “It takes a special kind of person to commit to a lifetime union. Someone with character, and honor, and discipline, and…”

  Caryn stared down at the table, where her half-full glass of champagne sat untouched. Zane continued with a toast that sounded more like he was condemning his friends to a lifetime of drudgery than marital bliss, but what had she expected? A man like Zane, who’d put himself through law school and mastered one high-powered career before deciding to leave it behind for another before he was thirty, knew what he wanted and didn’t let anything stand in his way. Whether it was a job or a woman, he got whatever caught his eye at the moment, and then discarded it when something better came along. Today, he was a rig hand; tomorrow, he might do anything at all. He had the looks for an acting career, the charisma to run for office, the intelligence for any profession. As for women…well. Caryn had never lacked confidence; she could ask for an introduction to any of a hundred successful men back in New York tomorrow, and be on a date with them by next weekend. She knew she was attractive. She certainly had the right pedigree. And money wasn’t something she would ever need to worry about.

  She’d taken these things for granted for so long that she had forgotten that there was more to a relationship between two people than simply being attractive and successful together. She’d gotten a rude reminder the night when Nathanial called her, drunk and loud from the bar where the bachelor party was taking place, to say that he was calling it quits. “You’re a great girl,” he’d shouted, slurring his words over the pounding beat of the exclusive nightclub, “but I’m just not feeling it.”

  She’d
endured the heartbreak and humiliation with the help of her mother and Georgia’s team of handlers. It had taken weeks for the media furor to settle down, but even so, it hadn’t hurt half as much as she was hurting right now, when she’d been jilted by a man she barely knew.

  “And so, to conclude, I wish Matthew and Jayne the stamina and patience that they will need…”

  This was the worst toast ever, the part of Caryn that was still capable of paying attention noted as a smattering of tepid applause began. It was like listening to a vegan give a toast to the blue ribbon barbecue winner at the county fair. So, Zane wasn’t into marriage—she could have lived with that. They could have just dated. They could have just…aw, hell, what had she been thinking? That when he found out who she really was, he would have forgiven her the deception and arranged to spend his next stretch between hitches flying to New York?

  The music started up, and Deneen, resuming her role with boundless energy, announced the couple’s first dance. Caryn couldn’t bear to watch it. She murmured an excuse and made her way down the table, where the bridesmaids and groomsmen were merrily clinking their glasses, Zane’s awful speech already forgotten.

  She might as well get this over with. She tapped Cal on the shoulder and gave him a pained smile. “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But about what you wanted to talk to me about…”

  “Oh, sure,” Cal said. He leaned over and kissed Roan on the cheek. “Be right back, I’ve just got to speak to Carrie for a sec.”

  He led her out around the dance floor that had been erected in the middle of the clearing, around the parked cars, and up to the front porch of the farmhouse. They were the only people around; the sounds of celebration were muted as they drifted on the evening breeze.

  “So, we arrested the guy who stole your stuff,” he said. “He was a drifter, a meth addict passing through town. I wish I could report that we recovered everything, but there was no money in your wallet and it looks like he went through your duffle bag, too. I hope you didn’t have anything too valuable in there.”

  “No, er…nothing, really. Nothing I can’t replace.”

  Was it possible that Cal hadn’t put two and two together? That he didn’t know who she was? Her driver’s license might not be the best picture that had ever been taken of her, but Caryn knew it was a good likeness, and it did list her address in Manhattan.

  “You can come by the station tomorrow morning before work if you like, and pick up your things,” Cal continued. “Rough break, I know. But I’m speaking for all of us when I say you’re welcome to stay at the bunkhouse until you save up some money and figure out your next steps.”

  Incredible. Caryn had never been so relieved not to be recognized. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said in a wobbly voice.

  “No problem. I was just literally doing my job.” Cal smiled, a little grimly. “You know, Caryn…Carrie…a long time ago, I got into some trouble with the law. I was kind of lost, as a kid. For a lot of years, it held me back, seeing myself the way the rest of the world saw me, as nothing but bad news, dangerous, a loser. I was lucky; I got a second chance. But it always made me wonder.”

  He paused, as though gauging her response. “What did it make you wonder?” she finally asked, mystified. Was this leading up to his “scared straight” speech? Was he going to warn her against the dangers of a life on the run?

  He looked at her searchingly, unmistakable kindness in his soulful dark brown eyes. “What it must be like. If you’re on the other side. If people are always expecting you to be perfect, instead of expecting you to fail. Because it seems like that might have its own problems. Like some days, you might want to run away from that, too. If you were…famous, for instance.”

  He didn’t look away, and neither of them spoke for a moment. He knew. The whole time, he knew who she was, and he was letting her know, giving her a chance. If she left now, maybe he wouldn't tell anyone else. Maybe no one ever had to know, and she could be back in New York at her desk by the day after tomorrow, business as usual.

  But then she would never meet Buddy. Never know the man who had given her life. Who had wooed her mother. Would never have the answer to the question of why he had left.

  And she’d never see Zane again. And as wretched as it felt to know that it was over, that he had loved her and left her, she wasn’t ready to lose him entirely.

  “You know,” Caryn said miserably. “Who I am.”

  “Actually, it was Roan who figured it out. When I told her we’d found your things. She said you looked familiar from the minute you met, and she’d been racking her brain trying to figure out where she knew you from.”

  Caryn sighed. “You don’t have to tell me, of course, but…how many people know?”

  “Just the two of us. The guys at work—well, let’s just say they aren’t too concerned with celebrity gossip. And no offense, but I hadn’t ever heard of your jewelry company. I mean, I’ve heard of your dad, of course, and I’ve seen some of his movies, and Roan says your mom does a lot of good work for charity. But we figured…well, we thought you must have had your reasons for staying quiet about who you really are. Like I said, I have to imagine it can get kind of old, being famous. So we’re not going to say anything.”

  He patted her knee through the full, swooping skirt. “Everyone at the house likes you, Carrie. Uh, I mean Caryn.”

  “Actually…I kind of like ‘Carrie.’ If that’s okay.”

  “More than okay. And Zane…well, I haven’t seen Zane get that worked up about anything in all the time I’ve known him.”

  The elation Caryn felt at escaping being recognized quickly faded. “That was just a fling,” she muttered.

  “You sure about that? The thing is, Zane’s a great guy. I mean, he’s not what you’re used to, I understand that, but he’s got everything that truly matters. Character, loyalty, he doesn’t leave the toilet seat up—”

  Caryn realized with a start that Cal thought she was the one making a hasty exit from their brief affair. “Wait, you don’t understand,” she said.

  “I’m probably saying this all wrong,” Cal said. “It’s just, I hope you’ll give him a chance. I know you’re probably not going to be here long. You’ve got responsibilities back home. I won’t even pretend to know what’s involved in being you. But being in the limelight all the time…that can’t be all that much fun. You need time off sometimes. Think about it—we’d be glad to have you around, whenever you can get away. Like Chase’s girlfriend, Regina, she’s up here a couple of times a month, they make it work.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” Caryn asked in a wobbly voice. “I lied to you all. I’ve taken advantage of your kindness.”

  Cal raised one eyebrow. “From where I sit, it looks like you’ve put up with the cyclone that is Deneen, slept on a couch that’s older than the original Star Trek, and agreed to wear a giant purple dress that looks like it belongs in a Disney movie. And you’ve done something that I’ve never seen anyone else do, which is to hold Zane’s attention longer than the time it takes for him to notice the next woman to walk down the street. So I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about.”

  “I—I don’t know how to thank you,” Caryn said.

  “No problem. I left your things at the station with instructions to give them to you, and I marked the bag only with your first and middle names, so I don’t think anyone else is going to put two and two together, at least for a while. Your cover isn’t blown, and you can go back and party down with all the locals without a care in the world.”

  He offered Caryn a hand and helped her to her feet, which were starting to ache in the high, pointed shoes.

  “What you’ve done…it means so much to me,” she said.

  “No problem. Now, go dance with my boy Zane.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  He was standing under the mulberry tree that usually held up one end of the clothesline. Tonight, the tree’s branches held hundreds of twinkling light
s, and under its boughs was a table bearing the remains of the wedding cake.

  Everyone was dancing in the clearing or talking at small tables. Jayne had bustled up her skirt with the help of her mother, and kicked off her shoes, and was leading a ragtag assortment of wedding guests in a conga line. Matthew was right behind her, his five-year-old nephew on his shoulders.

  Zane stood apart from all of it, hands jammed in his pockets, scowling. His tie was loosened and his jacket was nowhere to be seen, but he still looked like a few million dollars to Caryn. No: better than that, better than any amount of money in the world. He looked like home.

  A ridiculous notion, Caryn thought, brushing a tear away, the sort of thing she would have rolled her eyes at just a week ago. Last week, she knew who she was and the direction she was going in life. She’d recovered from the humiliating breakup with Nathanial, work was going well, Georgia was talking about inviting Caryn to spend Labor Day with them on the shore. Sure, she was a little lonely, but that was just the price one paid for a certain kind of celebrity.

  Now she was dressed in about ten yards of shiny lavender satin and no one knew who she was, other than a ridiculously kind small-town cop. She was confused, she was hungry, and her feet hurt.

  And she was pretty sure she had fallen in love.

  She took a deep breath and stepped out of the shelter of the crowd of guests, still going strong late into the evening. There was one way to face things, Georgia always said, and that was head on. Caryn walked across the lawn, her feet aching with each step, until she was only a few feet away from Zane, and still he didn’t look up.

  “Hey.”

  It wasn’t until he noticed her and dropped the frown that she realized she had been holding her breath.

  “Where the hell did you get off to? You’re supposed to be my date, remember? I had to dance with someone’s great grandmother. I’m pretty sure she pinched my butt.”