Eventually, it registered that Bair had exercised extreme selfcontrol, and that raised a flag. Smith turned in his chair.
Bair looked up. “What?”
“Nothing you want to say?”
“What would I say?”
“Let’s see … ‘How long are you going to let her jerk your chain?’ or ‘Tell her to stuff a sock in it!’ or ‘Who does she think you are— her nanny?’ ” All things he’d never held back before.
“Doesn’t do any good.” Bair looked back at his work, but a flush had crept into his ears, where his anger showed.
“What am I supposed to do—refuse her calls?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
He’d known every other time. “What’s up?”
Bair raised only his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Right.” Smith headed for the door. The call had obviously chafed Bair’s sore spot. He didn’t need to deal with that on top of the rest.
Smith followed the drone of the Bobcat to the labyrinth field. Tessa had made good progress, not having come in since the equipment arrived. She kept working as he approached, kept working as he stood there. After her reaching out last night, he’d expected acknowledgment at least.
She finally pulled to a stop. “What do you need?”
“I wanted to see how you were.”
“I’m fine.”
“Want to take a break?”
She shook her head. “I’m working, Smith.”
Her mood seemed to match Bair’s. And then it struck him. “Climb out a minute, Tessa. I want to talk to you.”
“There’s no need.”
“There is.” He crossed the raw dirt to her and reached out. “Give me your hand.”
“I don’t need help.” She got out without touching him.
“I don’t know what Bair told you, but you’ve obviously taken it wrong.”
“I don’t think so.” She wiped her palms on her pants. “And it doesn’t matter anyway.”
“Because I was bound to disappoint you, and now it’s come sooner rather than later?”
She looked into his face. “I don’t want to get caught in the middle.”
“There’s no middle to get caught in.”
“I’ve seen your back before, Smith. If you’re not done with Danae, I don’t need this.”
He would strangle Bair. Slowly. Why had he ratted him out? “It was a phone call, Tess. She does it sometimes. I don’t know why.”
“Because you’re loyal.”
“Is that what Bair said?”
“He said you’re not over her, and I appreciate that, because you didn’t say so. Maybe you thought the egg would break, but I prefer truth to lies.”
“You’re saying I lied to you?” His temper flared. “You’ve judged and condemned me before even hearing me out?”
“You didn’t exactly run out here to discuss it.”
“No, but Bair certainly did.”
She raised her chin. “He didn’t want me hurt. He sounded as though he’d seen it before.”
“Are you talking about his cousin?”
“What about her?”
“He set me up. I told him I wasn’t ready. He let her believe a little mending of a broken heart would put me right. It took months to be rid of her intensive care.”
“And now here we are.”
“Because I want to be.”
“And yet you took her call.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “As I took yours. In the middle of the night, no less.”
Blood flushed from her neck into her face. “You said you wanted to make the monster go away. You let me believe it wasn’t stupid to you. That you took me seriously.”
“I did, and I do.”
She drew a jagged breath. “Did you tell her about it?”
“What?”
“Danae. Did you tell her about the egg you’re babysitting?”
“No.”
“Because you don’t want her to know there’s anyone else in your life?”
“It’s not her business to know!” It felt wickedly good to see her flinch.
“As it wasn’t mine to know she’d called? That’s right. I’m in a different slot. The wholly new one.”
“Blast it, Tess. This isn’t fair.” He flung out his arms and stalked away from her before he said something he would really regret. He’d been right at the start. He should not have taken things the direction he had. Tessa was too reactionary. And Bair was going to pay.
He heard them shouting, a different noise from the other noise that had disturbed his sleep and filled him with dread. He hugged himself now, sick at heart over what she was doing. The tractor, tearing up the ground. He had trusted her. Now this. How could she? Because she didn’t know. Didn’t, but would. Soon. Too soon. He had to stop them, stop her. Had to, but how?
The shouting stopped, but maybe she was angry. Maybe she would go. Their fight might make her go away, make her leave it alone, leave it all alone, leave him … alone. He grabbed himself in his arms. He would lose her, yes, but that was better, better than losing it all. Oh, let her go away before something bad happened.
His stomach twisted. He should not have watched her sleeping. It had been so easy, finding her room. She and the old couple were the only guests. The heating vent gave him access from the room next door that wasn’t locked, and oh, he’d come out under her bed and heard her breathing.
He’d waited, simply listening for so long. Only when the breathing changed, when it grew strained, did he come out to see, to know what troubled her. He hadn’t made a sound, but she’d known he was there. She’d opened her eyes, and he was already to the door, already turning the locks and letting himself out.
He had slipped like a shadow into the next room, but she never opened the door. She must have thought she’d imagined him. He liked that idea, liked being in her imagination. Even if it frightened her. That made it seem real. His heart raced in his chest. He hadn’t wanted to frighten her, but now the thought caused a certain excitement.
What use was it to think of her as unafraid? What chance was there of that? But thinking of her the way she’d looked, springing up with a cry, staring in fear … Should he like it? He was like a snake holding her with a stare, watching her tremble, too paralyzed to move. He liked that. And she deserved it for what she was doing. He clenched his hands and ground his teeth as the noise started once more.
CHAPTER
21
Tessa put the engine on idle and snapped her phone open. “What.”
“Hello to you too.”
She drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Genie. Hi.”
“Bad day?”
“Um …” Genie didn’t usually ask personal questions. Why was everyone suddenly concerned about her day, her feelings? No one actually wanted answers, so why bother asking the questions? “No, I … well, yeah, kind of. What’s up?”
“Lyle Donner.”
Tessa gritted her teeth. “What’s the issue this time?”
“Pine needles.”
Shaking her head in growing annoyance, Tessa listened to the current complaints from her cantankerous neighbor. “Okay, I’ll handle it, Genie. Thank you.” She made the next call, carefully separating the anger she felt toward Smith from the anger she would direct at Lyle if he so much as interrupted her.
“First,” she told him, “I’m not responsible for the direction water flows. Your property is downstream from mine. On a mountainside. You might have considered that when you moved in.”
“My yard is choked with your pine needles. I hate pine needles.”
“I know. That’s why you cut all the beautiful trees around your house. I could complain about the ugly view of your backside.”
“I’ll show you my backside if you don’t watch it, missy. Get down here and clear up your mess.”
“I’m working in Maryland. And even if I were there, I’m not responsible for what nature deposits in your yard.” How c
ould pine needles be worse than the dog doo from his two rusty curs that occasionally wafted its scent up the hillside? “Furthermore, I don’t want you harassing my house sitter. She’s taking care of every reasonable thing she can. I’ll notify the marshal if you bother her again.”
She didn’t think Genie had anything serious to worry about. He was too obese to pose a physical threat, so he preferred annoying people to death. She was in no mood for it today.
“You’ll call the marshal? I’m calling the marshal.”
Tessa jammed her fingers into her hair. “You know what? Call. Make your complaint. I’m sure he has nothing better to deal with than pine needles.” She hung up and started to cry. How stupid was that?
She pocketed her phone and swiped a hand across her eyes, but the tears kept coming. She hadn’t wanted to hope, hadn’t wanted to care. Why had Smith made it personal? To get back at Danae? She lowered her face to her hands as the tears became sobs. She should know by now that people she loved always let her down. Could it never just be good?
She stepped down from the Bobcat and started for the woods. The wind had kicked up and it would likely rain, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t melt. Even if she cried all the tears inside her.
What if Smith had come out instead of Bair? What if he’d said, “Danae called, and I didn’t want to talk to her, but I did because it was the right thing.” Instead, he’d let enough of the day pass until she couldn’t hear anything he might have wanted to say.
And what could he say, anyway? He wasn’t ready to move on. He’d admitted as much. She didn’t blame him for that. It was hard letting go in the face of rejection. She ought to know. But it hurt so much that he had made something happen between them that she had tried so hard to avoid. All she’d wanted was closure.
She pressed through the trees as the rain began. The rest of her soon matched her face. At least it would not be obvious she’d been crying. The last thing she needed was Smith’s pity. Or Bair’s, for that matter.
Lightning flashed with quick thunderous applause. She squinted up. The sky had blackened like twilight, roiling clouds releasing a weight of rain on her and soaking the woods. She should make her way back to her car, but she’d taken off in the other direction and didn’t want to become a lightning rod crossing the field.
Instead she searched for a hollow or bank where she could ride out the storm. She shivered. The next crack of thunder brought a blast of rain. She could not use the base of a tree for shelter with lightning all around. She needed a place in the ground. She half ran in search of anything that would surround and shield her.
Suddenly it was like that piece of a dream Smith had awakened her from, the woods, the dark sky. The storm. Leaves instead of needles, but the ground growing soft and precarious. She shivered. At last she reached the broad river’s edge. The ground banked steeply down toward the swollen, slate-gray water pocked with raindrops. She pressed into a curve in the upper portion, where roots and forest floor overhung enough to keep off the worst of the downpour.
She wrapped her knees and breathed the ozone scent of rain, rotten leaves, and wet earth, forcing each breath deeper, slower. There’d be no panic this time. She was in control. She’d be fine. She pressed her chin to her knees. She could climb back onto the forest floor above, if she had to, but the rain came so hard she didn’t want to try to see her way anywhere. It was too easy to get lost.
Her heart hammered at the thought of being lost in the woods, running and groping as darkness settled and monsters awakened. She squeezed her knees to her chest and moaned. Why was she out there? Even if Smith was there, she should have run for the trailer instead. What stupid urge had driven her away from safe shelter?
Fear spiraled up. She needed Dr. Brenner. And now she realized she had missed calling when she should have. He would be angry or at least disappointed.
She pressed deeper into the ground and speed-dialed his number. Tucking the phone under her soaking hair, she waited for the chance to tell his machine she was sorry and beg him to call. But he picked up and said, “Hello, Tessa.”
“I’m so sorry I missed my appointment time.” Thunder cracked directly overhead, leaving a long line of static.
“Is it storming there?”
“Yes, actually I’m caught in it. Out in the woods.”
“What are you doing out there?”
“Waiting for it to stop.” Rivulets of rainwater rushed down around her to join the swelling river. “Can we talk?”
“I have forty minutes free on a cancellation. Start with why you’re in the woods.”
She told him about Smith. He made her stay with the feelings, exploring the anger to the hurt beneath. Without the terror of the storm, she might have resisted experiencing the pain. At the moment, she preferred it to the fear.
She rubbed her nose and face with her wet hands. Smith hadn’t meant to hurt her. It was inevitable. No one could give her what she needed. She expressed that to Dr. Brenner and let the calm cadence of his response soothe her further. Though the rain fell in sheets, it had softened in intensity. Lightning darted around the clouds, but the thunder only rumbled.
Next she told him about Rumer Gaston, and then about the pale form she’d seen in her room that had vanished into the shadows at her door. “I know what I have to do. I’m building a gated labyrinth and closing all the monsters inside.”
“What if there’s a reason he’s coming out, Tessa? What if it’s time to name it?”
She rubbed a streak of mud off her shin, wishing he hadn’t honed in on the one monster he wanted unveiled. She was glad now that she hadn’t told him it had started to speak. “He can stay forever nameless. I just want to be done with it all.”
“So no more labyrinths?”
She hadn’t thought in those terms. Would this labyrinth be her last? Could that be the cost of freedom? “Maybe.”
“I’m glad to hear you consider it. Cutting them out of your consciousness might eliminate them from your subconscious once and for all.”
He’d been saying that for years, but she hadn’t been ready to let go. Maybe now she could.
“Is it still storming?”
“Not quite as hard.” The sky overhead hung bruised and weeping, but it no longer struck out. Her skin was clammy. Her hair dripped down her face and back and reminded her of Danae’s long hair that Smith couldn’t resist. She pushed the pang away. “I guess I could make my way back now.”
“Probably a good idea. I’ll talk to you next week.”
“All right. Thanks.”
“Take care.”
The moment he was gone, the phone rang again. “Tessa!” Smith all but shouted.
“What do you want?”
“Where are you? I’ve been trying and trying to get through.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m out in the rain looking for you.”
She closed her eyes against the emotions that evoked. “You don’t need to.” She stood up and climbed out to the top of the gully. Her battery warning started to beep.
“I saw your empty Bobcat and couldn’t imagine where you’d gone.”
“It doesn’t matter, Smith.” She started in the direction she thought the field lay. She had approached the river at a slight angle and approximated it now in the opposite direction. “Go get out of the rain. I’m fine.”
As she slipped her phone into a pocket she caught sight of him some distance ahead. He saw her at almost the same time. They moved together inevitably.
The storm had overtaken his face, and thunder infused his voice. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? What were you doing?”
“Nothing. I just got caught in the storm.”
He gaped. “Help me understand. You have nightmares of being lost in the woods, but actually getting lost in a torrential storm in a forest you don’t know doesn’t matter?”
“I wasn’t lost. Just because you couldn’t find me doesn’t mean I was lost.”
“W
ho were you talking to?”
“Dr. Brenner. I missed my appointment, and since I wasn’t going anywhere soon, I used the time productively.” Could she ever spin it.
Rain ran down his face and hair. His features formed grim planes, his mouth a tight line. “I thought something happened.”
“I’m not your responsibility.”
“Tessa …”
She held up a hand. “Please don’t. I’ve dealt with it, and I don’t want to go into it again.” She increased her pace. “We made an error in judgment. Thankfully errors can be corrected.”
“Is that your opinion or Dr. Brenner’s?”
“He doesn’t tell me what to think, only helps me clarify.”
“And now that you’re clear, I’m a mistake again, an error in judgment.”
She spread her hands. “Not you personally, Smith. Just … all of it.”
“You’re determined to hurt me as thoroughly as you believe I’ve hurt you.”
She stopped walking. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Yet one phone call that I did not initiate is enough to cast me to the seventh level of hell.”
She jolted. Dante’s seventh circle of hell was introduced by the labyrinthine monster, Minotaur. Smith could not have meant anything more than a figure of speech, and yet …
Her voice shook. “I’m trying to accept where you are and—”
“You have no idea where I am. You say you’re not lost, but you are. You don’t see the forest for the trees.”
She lowered her face as the rain ran down the neck of her shirt. It was soaked already and made no difference. He used that moment to close the gap. His warm grip burned the storm-chilled flesh of her bare arms.
“Look at me.”
She looked up.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t want you hurt. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know. But it happens anyway. I get that.” She pulled away and started walking. “I’m not looking for pity. I just need to do what doesn’t hurt.”
“And that is?” He caught up.
She didn’t have an easy answer. Closing him out would hurt. Not doing that would hurt more. She gripped herself in her arms. A moment later Smith’s jacket came around her shoulders. She said, “You’ll get soaked.”
The Edge of Recall Page 17
