“Which isn’t surprising considering you’re drunk.”
“Will you stop? You can lecture me some other time.”
“Sorry.”
“She came back to me. We talked. She walked me home, and we talked a little more.”
“How do you feel?”
“I wasn’t sure how I’d feel if we ever met again. I didn’t think I’d feel like this. But what if she’s here to search for Zach England?”
“Oh my God. I didn’t think of that.”
“I did, and it scares me shitless. I’ve done everything Sally’s asked of me. I’ve been quiet about my writing, I’ve hung out at the bar, I’ve gone out on my boat. Sally did ask me to leave town, but I told her I wouldn’t run.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Why do you think I called you? I’m seeing Meryl again tomorrow afternoon, and I don’t know what to do.” Angie plopped down into a lounge chair. She put the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Shit! I can’t think.”
“Listen. Why don’t you try to get some sleep and tackle this again in the morning? I can’t meet with you before you see her. We have a church dinner to attend after service. But I’ll get in touch with you in the afternoon.”
“Okay. Make it late afternoon.”
“It’s time for this old broad to go to bed. You do the same.”
“Good night.” Angie hung up.
God, Meryl, what the hell am I supposed to do?
* * *
Meryl lay in the darkness of her hotel room and wiped away more tears. She’d thought she’d finished crying, until she slipped under the covers. The entire encounter with Angie played over and over in her mind as she stared at the ceiling in the darkness. She tried to tell herself that the shock would wear off and she and Angie could reconnect. But Meryl wasn’t so certain.
Nothing felt certain.
She turned to the clock. Two in the morning. She feared sleep. Stress and uneasiness often triggered her nightmares. She tried to clear her mind of all her fears by using the relaxation technique Robert had taught her.
Eventually, she drifted off to a fitful sleep, devoid of anything but scattered memories of her past.
Chapter 15
Angie finished her third cup of coffee for the morning. It didn’t help.
Her dream of reuniting with Meryl and picking up where they left off had evaporated like so much fog on a summer morning. A nightmare replaced it, and Angie had to face the consequences of it, whether she was prepared to or not. Scattered words flew through her mind, all of them connected to Zach England: Sally, Stanley & Schilling, secret life, seclusion. Then three words stood out from the rest and burned into her consciousness: breach of contract.
Angie took her cell phone with her to her lounge chair outside. She stared at the phone. Do I tell Sally? She punched in Sally’s number, but then hung up before the second ring and tossed the phone to the nearby table. What the hell would she tell her?
The prospect of enduring the pain of losing Meryl a second time tore into Angie’s heart. If Meryl was here looking for England, and Angie could convince her he wasn’t here, would she leave again? What could Angie do to make her stay long enough to find out where she stood with her?
An idea came to her. The longer she contemplated it, the clearer it became. She tried to tell herself it was for the best. That it was the only thing to do. But it would involve lies. She held her head in her hands and tried to think of another way out. Did she want to start down that path?
She spent the next two hours agonizing over her reasoning. In the end, she returned to the original solution.
Angie’s insecurities won out over the truth.
* * *
Sage greeted Angie when she entered the Cozy Conch. “And how are we this afternoon?” He returned to his newspaper with a smug expression. Christi was busy wiping down the shelves behind the bar.
“I’m very well, thank you.” Angie’s words were a little sharper than she’d intended. The hangover headache had morphed into something approaching a migraine. It didn’t help her mood.
Sage glanced up from the paper. “Don’t go getting snitty. That’s the most I’ve seen you drink in years.”
Angie picked up a glass and poured ice water from one of the pitchers that lined the bar. “Do we have any aspirin, Christi?”
Christi reached under the counter and handed Angie the bottle. She went back to wiping down the shelves.
Angie popped two aspirins in her mouth and washed them down with water.
“Ah, we’re being wise today,” Sage said.
“Yes. Wise.”
Sage patted the stool beside him. “You left here in a hurry after that kiss. Everything okay?”
Before Angie could answer or sit down, there was a knock at the door. Christi paused in mid-swipe. “Now, who could that be?” She tossed down her rag and stepped around the bar.
Angie put her hand on Christi’s arm. “I’ll get it.”
Angie hurried to the door and unlocked it. The bright afternoon sunlight poured into the bar as Meryl stepped inside.
“I’m glad you could make it.” Angie tried to sound casual, but wasn’t sure she pulled it off.
“It’s good to see you again,” Meryl said.
Angie motioned toward the bar. “I’d like you to meet the manager of the Cozy Conch and the head of our entertainment.”
They walked to the bar.
“Christi and Sage, this is Meryl McClain.”
Meryl extended her slender hand toward them. “Very nice to meet you, Christi.” She turned to Sage. “Sage.”
“Dear God, and I thought I had the best legs in Key West.” Sage’s gaze drifted below the hem of Meryl’s shorts.
Angie slugged him in the arm.
“Ow! It’s true. Did you see her legs? They go on forever.” He rubbed his arm.
Angie’s face flushed.
“From that expression, I’d say you did.”
“Shut up. Sorry, Meryl. He usually has better manners than this.”
“Can I get you something to drink, Ms. McClain?” Christi asked.
“Only if you call me Meryl.”
“Meryl it is.”
“A ginger ale, if you have it.”
Christi poured the drink.
“Why don’t you tell me something about you two?” Sage asked Angie.
“Meryl and I were together in college. We hadn’t seen each other for eleven years. Until last night.”
“Together together. I get it. That’s why you rushed out of here.”
“Why don’t we go to one of those tables?” Angie glared at Sage and motioned Meryl to the rear of the bar. She picked up their drinks.
“Nice to meet both of you,” Meryl said over her shoulder as they walked away.
They sat down.
“I still can’t believe you’re actually here in front of me,” Angie said.
“I think we’re both in shock.” Meryl didn’t meet her eyes, but looked around the bar. “Great decorations.” She cocked her head to the side. “Key West agrees with you. With that tan, you look like a native.”
“I’ve been here eight years and counting.”
Meryl opened her mouth and then shut it.
“What?” Angie asked.
“I tried to find you some years ago. I read your three lesbian mysteries.”
Angie suddenly found the tabletop fascinating. “Not some of my best stuff.”
“They were quite good. I did a search online to see if you’d written more. I contacted your publisher, but they told me your contract was up with them. I couldn’t find anything published after your last one over eight years ago. It was as if you’d dropped off the planet. I knew not to contact your family in Youngstown. I remembered you were close to your sister, but Jan Cantinnini didn’t come up in my search. I’m assuming she got married.”
Hearing that Meryl had earnestly searched for her gave Angie hope. “I kept up with you for a while—where y
ou were, what you were doing. That you taught at Columbia after your divorce. Then I saw where the Banner hired you.”
Meryl seemed surprised. “Why didn’t you try to get in touch with me?”
“I didn’t contact you because it was too painful, Meryl. I wasn’t sure after your marriage ended what to think. Did he treat you well?”
“Stan?”
Angie nodded.
“Yes…” Meryl didn’t offer any more.
She seems so lost. Angie lightly caressed Meryl’s fingers that fidgeted with the edge of the napkin under her drink.
“You really do look like you’ve lived here for eight years,” Meryl said. “You’re so dark.” She shook her head. “Why don’t we hold off talking about us any further for now? I still have to get used to the idea that you’re sitting across from me, and you’re not some dream I conjured up.”
“We can wait if you want.” Angie hoped she hid her disappointment. She dreaded the answer she might receive to her next question, but she had to plunge ahead. “What brings you to Key West? Are you vacationing?” Please say vacationing. Please.
“It’s sort of hush-hush, but I’m here on assignment for the New York Banner. I’m searching for the author, Zach England.”
Angie gripped her water glass more tightly.
“You okay?” Meryl asked. “You’re a little pale.”
“Still getting over last night. What makes you think Zach England is in Key West?”
“We had a tip from a source. My editor thinks it’d be a big coup if I found him. Did you catch my article about England possibly being a woman?”
“Yes.” Angie took a drink of water—like that would steady her nerves.
“That’s the biggest reason I’m here. If England is indeed a woman, I’d love to be able to interview her and find out how all of this started.”
Angie looked at Meryl. Her body had a visceral reaction to Meryl’s presence, just as it had at Lehigh. Angie longed to kiss those lips and touch the skin that she’d memorized from their hours of lovemaking. She struggled with her decision one last time before she spoke. “I might be able to help you, but you may not like what I’m about to say.”
Meryl raised her eyebrows. “Oh? What is it?”
“There’s a chance that Zach England lives here. But if it’s who I think it is, he’s definitely a man. If it’s the guy you’re looking for, I mean.” God, she couldn’t even pull off the first lie and sound believable. How would she carry through with her whole plan?
Meryl sat back in her chair. She looked disappointed. “Damn. I was hoping I was onto something. Well, I’m here. I could still interview him. Maybe you could help me since you know the place so well.”
“I don’t think he wants to be found,” Angie said. There. At least that wasn’t a lie.
“But we can still try.” Meryl’s blue-green eyes pleaded with Angie’s.
“We can ask around, but don’t get your hopes up. Some people who move to Key West move here for a reason. They could be running from something or someone in their lives. Being discovered is the last thing they want.”
Meryl stared at her. “We’re still talking about Zach England, right?”
Angie realized what she’d just said. “Right.” She shifted the conversation. “I caught your review of his latest novel. Are you sure you still want to track him down?”
“I bet I’m not the first reviewer to pan one of his books. Have you read the last few? They’re not exactly Pulitzer Prize-winning material.”
Ouch. “Maybe he’s lost his passion or something,” Angie said. How pathetic that she still felt a need to defend her writing, which she herself knew had grown stale.
Meryl took a sip of her ginger ale. “Whatever the reason, he’d better get it back or move on to something else. It’s almost like he hates his own character.”
Angie inwardly winced at the astute observation.
“I’m sorry,” Meryl said. “Is he your favorite author or something?”
“No. I was just speculating as to why his writing might have fallen off lately.”
“I see. You’re a little protective because he’s a Key West resident.”
“Now, wait, I said he may live here, remember? Some have their theories—”
“What are they? And what’s his name?”
Angie sank deeper in her chair. Damn. She hadn’t thought this far ahead.
Meryl stared at her with a puzzled expression. “You do have a name, right?”
“Uh, yeah. Hal Morris.” Crap. That’s the name of a former first baseman for the Cincinnati Reds. Couldn’t she have been a little more original? And where did that come from? Angie watched Meryl’s reaction, hoping she didn’t follow major league baseball.
“At least we have a possible name. What are your theories?”
“Why don’t we start by going down to the docks and asking around? If I were a best-selling author, I’d own a boat here.”
“It’s probably too late to go out today. How about meeting in front of the bar in the morning?”
“Sounds good.”
Meryl took Angie’s hand in hers. “And we’ll talk about us. I promise.”
Feelings of hope and guilt battled within Angie. “Okay.”
Meryl stood to leave. “Thanks again for offering to help. I’d be lost on my own down here, I think.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
Angie sat alone at the table. Sage called her over to the bar.
“Is she the one?” he asked when she drew nearer.
“The one…”
“Who still has your heart?”
“How did you know?” Angie poured more water into her glass.
“Please, honey, I’m a gay man. I know angst. You’ve displayed enough of it for twenty broken-hearted souls. There had to be a woman. I can see why you fell for her. She’s gorgeous.” Sage furrowed his brow. “There’s something about her, though. She seems a little sad. And for that matter, so do you. I’d think you two would be planning the rest of your lives together.”
“It’s not that simple. A lot of not-so-good things happened between us. Then there are the eleven lost years.” And now she was compounding the problem with lies.
“I guess I can see where you’d have some trouble with that.” Sage placed a hand on her shoulder. “But don’t you let her slip away again, Angie. You should see the way you look at her.”
“I’ll try my best.” Angie’s cell phone rang. She unclipped it from her shorts. It was Ev. “I’ll see you later this week,” Angie said to Sage before she took the call outside.
“How’d it go?” Ev asked.
“I might’ve done something stupid, Ev.”
“Let’s meet at Joe Joe’s. You can tell me what you’ve done, and I’ll cast my vote for whether or not it was stupid.”
“Do I really want to hear that?”
“Stop being a chickenshit,” Ev said.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.
Angie arrived at Joe Joe’s. She waited at a table with her cappuccino for Ev to take a seat across from her.
“How are you feeling this afternoon?” Ev asked.
“Like shit. As expected.”
“You look like hell.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Don’t take out your hangover on me. All right then, let’s get right to it. How did it feel seeing Meryl again?”
Angie sat back in her chair. “Like my world tilted on its axis. Like my heart would leap from my chest. I felt like I did the first time I met her.”
“You told me you did something stupid. What is it?”
“When I talked to you on the phone last night, I told you I had suspicions about why she’s in Key West. I was right. Meryl’s here on assignment. She’s searching for Zach England, to find out if England’s a woman and to get an interview.”
“And you told her…”
“I said we think he might live here, and I’d take her around.”
“Angie! Why would you say that?”
“I had to come up with something, and I had to steer her away from thinking England was a woman.”
“By lying?”
“Christ, Ev, I don’t know. I’m afraid if I told her the truth, she’d get her story and waltz right out of my life again. You didn’t see how fragile she looked last night. She didn’t want to talk about us, either. And the biggest reason to withhold that I’m Zach England is that my publisher has me locked into a contract that requires me to use a pseudonym. Part of the contract, the most important part, states that I have to maintain the pseudonym. It’s a legal, binding agreement between me, my publisher, and my agent. Period.”
“Legal schmegal.”
“Oh, that’s real adult-sounding. Stanley & Schilling could sue Sally’s and my asses off if it came out who Zach England really is.”
“But this is the supposed love of your life, and you’re not going to tell her?”
“Maybe she can stay for a while. We’ll get reacquainted. And then—”
Ev threw her hands up in the air. “Stop! Do you hear yourself? You’re rationalizing this like… like… I don’t know, pick an analogy. Like a drunk tries to rationalize their next drink.”
Angie waved off the comment. “It’s not that bad. I don’t think I’m rationalizing.”
“You know what I mean. Don’t you have enough faith and confidence in yourself to tell her the truth? Maybe she wouldn’t print the story. If she leaves, then stay in contact with her. Ask her to visit you here again. Go up to New York. Anything but…” Ev’s voice trailed off. “You really don’t have faith in yourself where she’s concerned, do you?”
“It’s been eleven long years.”
“Do you think Meryl will like being led on like this and she’ll miraculously fall into your arms when you admit you’ve been lying to her all along?”
“I think that after we get close it won’t matter. If—”
Ev stopped her. “You’re really out of practice where women are concerned, aren’t you, sweetie?” Her tone softened. “Because you sure as hell sound like a man right now.”
“How about some support here?”
Come Back to Me Page 12
