Pushed to the Limit

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “Sydney Raferty L–. Uh, Raferty.”

  She’d been about to add another name. He was curious, but he didn’t press her. They walked in silence, and, as if his mere presence was comforting to her, he sensed the lady relaxed. Odd how some people could relate to strangers. He himself had difficulty in that area, though Sydney Raferty might prove to be the exception. Something about her drew his interest – and as odd as it seemed, his protective instincts as well. Considering his background, that was saying a lot for her.

  As they left the eerie night beach behind, the fog thinned and the lights of

  Main Street glowed dimly overhead. “We’re almost there.” He snapped off his flashlight as they crossed the street. “So, how do you like Stone Beach?”

  “I don’t know.” Brow furrowed, Sydney looked around at the deserted shop-lined street. “I really haven’t had the chance to see much of anything. It seems nice.”

  “Stone Beach is pretty laid back. Quiet. Not like Seaside or Astoria,” he said, referring to larger nearby towns. “We have a number of artists and writers in residence.”

  “Which are you?”

  Benno laughed. “Neither.” He stopped in front of a wooden building whose large windows were darkened. A “Closed” sign hung in the glassed front door. “This is the place.”

  “But it’s locked up tight.” She sounded disappointed.

  “But I have the key.” He produced it with a flourish and unlocked the door.

  Sydney looked up at the shingle which hung overhead. “Benno’s Place?”

  “Benno DeMartino, proprietor.” He flicked a light switch just inside the door and held out a hand indicating she should enter. When she hesitated, he preceded her and called over his shoulder. “Come on in. You have the distinction of being my only customer of the evening.”

  Stools were stacked upside down on the bar as were chairs on their tables. The place had a neglected air, though he’d only been gone for a week.

  He headed for the bar where he righted a couple of stools before starting water for the tea. He heard Sydney’s light footsteps on the wooden floor but he chose not to engage her in conversation immediately. Instead, he rinsed out a couple of mugs and set an Almond Enchantment tea bag in each. He sensed the young woman was taking her time looking around – deciding who he was by his surroundings?

  If so, she was as foolish as most of the locals. Poster-covered salmon walls, wooden tables and chairs and a small stage with accompanying mike and speakers wouldn’t tell her who he was as a person. He looked up to find her staring at him, her expression curious.

  “I’ve been out of town and the place has been locked up,” he found himself telling her. I just got back tonight. He was caught by her odd gray eyes, large and round and filled with sadness. “So, are you staying in a motel or visiting friends?”

  “Neither, exactly.” The distraught expression assaulted her face once more, though she was visibly trying to control herself from giving way to whatever was bothering her. “I’m here alone now.”

  Alone and lonely, Benno thought. And afraid. He couldn’t forget that. Why? A top-notch bartender could get anyone to open up.

  “Want to come sit over here or would you prefer one of the tables?” he asked.

  “The bar is fine.”

  He slid her mug toward her as she slipped onto one of the stools. “I get the feeling you could use something stronger than plain tea.” He lifted a bottle of Ameiuridae from the shelf behind him. “What about it?” When she nodded, Benno splashed a shot into her mug. He waited until she took a couple of sips before asking, “Planning on staying long?”

  “I’m not sure. A while, I guess.”

  She seemed distant – almost alienated – something he himself had experienced more often than was good for a person. “Since you don’t know anyone in town, I’d be glad to help make you feel at home,” he heard himself offering before he had a chance to think it over.

  “That’s very kind of you.” Sydney’s knuckles whitened on the mug and she suddenly said, “The reason I don’t know anyone in town is because my new husband brought me here on our wedding day... and then he died.”

  No wonder she was so distraught. So she’d thought he was a dead man? The realization gave Benno a start though he supposed it wasn’t all that unusual for someone who’d recently lost a loved one to be prey to wishful thinking. Still, the kind of fear she’d displayed didn’t seem to go hand-in-hand with love and hope.

  “I still can’t believe Kenneth is dead,” she whispered.

  Kenneth? Benno’s mind raced. Sydney had run into him on the strip of beach south of town. Only one man by that name lived along the cliffs. His breath came short and he stiffened.

  “Your husband.” He forced himself to complete the unthinkable. “He wasn’t Kenneth Lord?”

  “Yes,” she said, confirming his fear. “You knew him?”

  “Knew him?” Benno felt as if he’d been smacked in the gut. Kenneth dead? It wasn’t possible. He gripped the edge of the bar so tightly his fingers went numb. “He was my friend. I’m sorry. My God, how did it happen?”

  Sydney took a sip of tea as if to bolster herself. “A horrible accident. He fell from the cliff near the house.”

  “Kenneth wasn’t clumsy. This is unbelievable... unthinkable.” He stared at her. “Were you with him?”

  “I was back a ways, taking his picture. One minute he was posing for me... the next he was gone. Drowned.”

  That information gave Benno the weirdest feeling. Another drowning. Coincidence?

  Grief for his friend made him reach for a whiskey bottle. He poured a shot and downed it straight. As if the fire could burn away the shock and disbelief. God, not Kenneth, not his only friend in a town that had always seemed alien to him. He and Kenneth had a bond no one and nothing could break.

  Nothing but death, he thought, shocked to the core.

  He stared at the widow. No wonder he’d been drawn to Sydney. Somehow, his lifelong bond with Kenneth Lord had spilled over to include the man’s wife.

  A stranger.

  Something didn’t gel here. He gave her an even harder look.

  “Kenneth never told me he was getting married. I had no idea that he was seriously involved with someone.”

  “It was one of those storybook romances,” she said with irony. “Love at first sight, whirlwind courtship, impulsive marriage. Too bad about the happy ending.”

  Kenneth must have met her while he was out of town. “He was a good friend, too young to die.” His own age – thirty-seven.

  “We, uh, held his memorial service yesterday,” Sydney said.

  “Memorial... no funeral?”

  Her eyes filled as she shook her head. “The search team couldn’t find his body.”

  The fact unsettled Benno once more. A corpse should have been beached with the incoming tide – as he well knew – if not here, then somewhere along the coast. And it had already been three days.

  “They may find him yet, Sydney,” he said in an effort to be comforting. Without a body, she undoubtedly had no sense of closure to the relationship. Hell, he couldn’t believe it himself.

  “Unless Kenneth really isn’t dead.”

  That gave him a start. “What?”

  “I don’t know what to believe.”

  “Just because no body was found–”

  ”I know,” she interrupted. “I’ve heard all the reasoning in the world. My family is rather pragmatic when it comes to the unexplained. Sydney shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe me, either. You’d think I was losing it. Maybe I am. I thought I could stay in Kenneth’s house alone, but the place got to me. I took a walk to make myself feel better.” Seeming embarrassed now, she licked a drop of tea from her bottom lip. “I, uh, thought I heard his voice out there in the foggy night. He only died three days ago and I guess I still haven’t come to terms with losing him.”

  Benno sensed there was even more to her story than she was sharing, but h
e was too distraught by the news to figure out what. “Because you thought you heard a voice?”

  She nodded, swallowed hard, and said, “Added to a premonition that Kenneth was still alive and waiting for me to slip into his arms.”

  “Wishful thinking.”

  Sydney laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Yes. I guess that’s a more acceptable explanation than being crazy.” She took a sip from the mug and placed it on the bar with a clunk that had a ring of finality. “Thanks for the flashlight and the tea, Benno. I think I’ll be going now.”

  “Wait.” His hand slid over hers and held it fast. “You’re upset. Let me see you safely home.”

  “No, really.”

  ”I insist. Let me do this for Kenneth. For my friend.”

  She didn’t argue and he could tell that, whether or not she was willing to admit it, Sydney needed someone to lean on. His shoulder was stronger than some and it happened to be available. And in helping her, he was doing what he could for a friend. Probably the last thing anyone could do for Kenneth.

  He picked up the flashlight and circled the bar. “Come on. My car is down the street.”

  He felt her reluctance as she followed him outside. Benno didn’t know why he had this bizarre impulse to play hero to her maiden-in-distress, but something about Sydney got to him at a gut level. Maybe it was the eyes. An odd pale gray, they managed to look right through him one minute and reveal her vulnerability the next.

  Despite what the locals still thought of him, he’d always been a sucker for hurt or lost creatures... and right now, Sydney Raferty Lord was about as hurt and lost as a human being could get.

  WONDERING WHY Benno DeMartino was going out of his way for a stranger as they sped along the curved, hilly road in a low-slung ‘67 Thunderbird convertible, top up against the chilly night, Sydney glanced at the man who claimed to have been Kenneth’s friend.

  Buttoned to the throat, his black shirt complemented his dark good looks and further allowed him to meld with the night. Beard stubble brushed his olive skin except for the naked scar on his chin, she knew, and a diamond stud winked from his ear. She could barely make out either. When oncoming headlights flashed through the T-bird’s interior, his granite profile framed by long black hair slicked back and tied in a short pony tail at his nape became visible. His sharp, rugged features made him appear eternally skeptical.

  And yet Benno had been so kind to her.

  He didn’t know anything about her, about her past. She sighed. Piercing eyes she knew to be a light brown flashed at her and made her turn away self-consciously. She wondered why Kenneth hadn’t ever mentioned Benno.

  She stared out at the fog-shrouded shoreline but saw no lights ahead. Not looking forward to spending the night at the house alone, Sydney guessed she should have let Asia have her way and stay, but for once, she hadn’t bent under the force of her younger sister’s personality. Her mistake. Now she would have only herself for company.

  She wondered if Benno could read her thoughts when he commented, “So you’re alone at the house. What about Martha? Did she go back to Portland so soon?”

  “Martha doesn’t even know her brother is...doesn’t know about anything. Not about the accident, not even about the marriage.”

  “Kenneth didn’t want her at the wedding?” He sounded disbelieving.

  “I told you we married impulsively. There was no time to send out invitations.”

  “He could have made a phone call and Martha would have come running. She was his only real family.”

  “Yes, I know,” Sydney said, trying not to sound too stiff. Benno was merely being curious, not critical. “He told me their parents died years ago.”

  “Did he also tell you he was fourteen years older than his sister, as much a father to her as a brother?” Without waiting for her affirmative reply, he muttered, “They were so close, I can’t believe he didn’t want her at the wedding.”

  “It wasn’t like that. Really. And I-I tried to get in touch with her after... the accident.” Sydney clasped her hands together tightly as if that would prevent her from breaking down. “No answer, so I left a message on Martha’s machine. Such a cold way of giving someone bad news. So impersonal. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Voice sounding more kind than critical, Benno said, “You were caught in the middle of a special situation.”

  Were? That smacked of the past, and, as far as Sydney was concerned, she was still trapped. At the moment, she wasn’t sure how she was going to resolve anything. Not Kenneth’s death. Not her life.

  Benno slowed the Thunderbird and she realized they had arrived. Looking out at the house, she frowned. “What’s going on? I left lights on all over the house.” Now only the living room glowed through the downstairs windows.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I even remember seeing the windows lit when I was walking along the beach.”

  Benno grabbed his flashlight from the back seat where he’d tossed it. “I’ll come in with you and look around.”

  Sydney didn’t try to talk him out of doing so. She was suddenly as much on edge as she’d been when she’d fled the house earlier. But no one answered when he called out, and a thorough search revealed no sign of an intruder. Things were as she had left them.

  Everything but the lights.

  “I-I don’t understand. I was sure...” She shook her head and chose not to continue. “Forget about it.” She had to remember how stressed she’d been. But stressed enough to have forgotten turning off several light switches? She didn’t want to dwell on the thought. And she didn’t want to be alone, not just yet. “It’s my turn to offer you a drink.”

  Benno gave her an odd look and studied her closely for an uncomfortable moment. She shifted under his scrutiny. Did he think she was goofy or what?

  “Listen, Sydney, if you want some company in the house, I could stay.” He nodded to the sleek black leather sofa, a Scandinavian design as was all the living room furniture. “I could sack out for the night down here.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Even though the offer of company was tempting. “Besides, it’s not necessary. I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m sure you can. But the offer’s still open. I have a thing for sleeping on other peoples’ couches. Really.”

  Sydney realized he was teasing her, smiling. And that she was smiling in return. A rush of warmth passed between them and she knew she wouldn’t turn down his kind offer. No matter that he was a stranger and she should probably be wary – relief flooded through her.

  “Thanks.”

  His smile widened to a grin. “If I have a crick in my back in the morning, though, I may ask you to walk on it.”

  “You’re really into torture, huh?”

  “Nah, just creative living.”

  They both laughed; Sydney knew she’d made the right decision.

  “There are sheets and a quilt and pillows in there,” she said, pointing to the window seat topped with a leather pad that her brother Dakota had discovered when he’d slept on the couch the night before. “I’ll clear my things away.”

  About to remove the Tarot from the coffee table, she froze when she noticed the loose card that lay across the middle of the spread. Death. Added to the other negative vibes she’d gotten from the reading, this one chilled her. One of the most powerful images of the Tarot, Death wasn’t necessarily to be taken literally, she knew that. But loss of hope and major changes could be nearly as frightening, and the fact that she hadn’t dealt the card, that it had somehow worked its way onto her reading gave her the creeps.

  She must have flipped it over by accident when she set down the deck, Sydney told herself.

  “So, you’re into reading Tarot cards.”

  Right behind her, Benno made her jump. “Aah!”

  “Whoa,” he said, steadying her for the second time that night. “I didn’t mean to startle you. So, did you find out anything interesting about yourself?” />
  Not about to tell him that her reading had been the reason for her flight from the house – nor about the appearance of an extra card that might have slipped from the deck without her noticing – Sydney gathered the cards together and hoped he didn’t notice her hands were shaking as she slipped them into their pouch.

  “Reading the Tarot is always interesting,” she said truthfully, at the same time trying to regulate the bumping of her heart. She stuck the deck in her purse which she’d left on the floor. “You can get new insights into yourself. Sort of self-analysis, using what you know and being open to interpretation.”

  “Will you read mine sometime?”

  “If you like.” She backed away from him and threw the purse onto a chair. “Um, I’m going to warm up some milk for myself.”

  ”Not my speed,” Benno told her. “Do you mind if I help myself to something stronger?”

  “I was about to suggest that if only I can figure out where the stuff is hidden. My brother found some brandy yesterday.”

  “The bar is over here,” Benno said, walking to the teak unit which lined the only wall breaking up the downstairs living area. He opened a drop leaf on one side that revealed a well-stocked bar. “I’ve been around enough in the past few months to know where things are.”

  “Help yourself.” Sydney escaped to the kitchen area that was separated from the rest of the downstairs by the wall of cabinets on one side and a half-wall which formed a breakfast bar on the other.

  Removing a copper pot from a cast iron hanger which had been installed above the work island, she set it on the stove. Glass against glass clinked from the other side of the wall as Benno helped himself to his drink.

  She couldn’t help asking, “What was he like?”

  “Who? Kenneth? You married the man.”

  “I met him all of two weeks ago. I could hardly get an in-depth knowledge of a person in that short a time.” Hoping Benno wasn’t going to tell her what he thought of the impulsive marriage, Sydney opened the refrigerator.