Pushed to the Limit

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Approaching the beach and the treacherous waters beyond, Benno knew he would never forget. Neither of them would. The past would forever lay between them like a closed coffin. The other man had never made any bones about wanting revenge.

  Revenge?

  The word echoed through his mind.

  Could it be? No. Impossible. Kenneth’s death was an accident, one Sydney had witnessed, Benno reminded himself. Parnell had merely been gloating.

  “You and Parnell Anderson don’t like each other much,” Sydney stated as they reached the steps that led down to the sand.

  “No.”

  She stopped long enough to kick off her sandals and gather them up by the straps before continuing down the steps and north along the hard-packed strip. People were scattered along the beach, some on blankets, others in the water. A handful of teenagers in colorful wet suits were further out, about to mount their sleek boards and surf their way into the shallows.

  “And he didn’t like Kenneth, either,” Sydney continued.

  “No.”

  Her voice was controlled when she asked, “Then why did he show up at the memorial service?”

  Benno didn’t answer. How could he tell her the bastard had probably showed to offer a prayer of thanks?

  “I knew something wasn’t right,” she went on. “I didn’t sense any sorrow in him.”

  “Parnell Anderson likes to establish his importance whenever possible.”

  The eldest Anderson sibling had always thrown his weight around, ever since Benno could remember. Benno had been a kid, Parnell a teenager the first time they’d come nose-to-nose. But while Benno hadn’t had money or people fawning all over him as the older boy had, he’d had guts. And he’d been a tough little son-of-a-bitch. Parnell had hated him for that – for not toadying to him the way Brickman always had. Still did.

  “What crime?” Sydney asked, finally picking up on Parnell’s accusation in the camera store.

  Caught unawares by Sydney’s question, Benno had no quick, slick answer to put her off. She stopped short and he did the same. They stood close enough that he could reach out and take her in his arms, let her warmth and compassion comfort him the way he had tried to do for her. But she was his friend’s widow, he reminded himself. He kept his hands at his sides. His fingers curled until they made fists.

  “There was no official crime.”

  Even as Benno said it, guilt swept over him like the ocean breeze that ruffled Sydney’s hair around her face. He stared into those fathomless eyes that plumbed the depths of his soul. No, he hadn’t been convicted of a crime, but that hadn’t prevented his self-inflicted punishment over the tragedy that had been of his making. He’d left town in disgrace and had spent years not caring what happened to him – as if his self-destruction could have atoned for what had happened.

  “That’s all right if you don’t want to talk about it,” Sydney told him, backing away. “But if you need a friendly listener...”

  And he’d thought he was the one with the spare shoulder. He smiled at her and the answering glimmer from her eyes and mouth warmed him before she turned away and continued sauntering up the coast. She glanced over her shoulder and hesitated until Benno joined her once more. They were heading toward a formation of rocks strewn in the shallows. As always, Benno’s gaze was drawn to The Sugar Loaf, the largest and most unusual of the group.

  “I know what it’s like to be different,” she said, dodging a little boy who headed straight for them in a bright yellow beach trike.

  Benno followed her example. Several kids were having a race in the low-slung, wide vehicles with oversized tires designed especially to careen along the hard-packed sand.

  “Who said anything about being different?” he asked. “What are you? Psychic?”

  That she didn’t answer forced Benno to study an unsmiling Sydney more closely. She’d talked about hearing voices, about seeing Kenneth when he had to be dead. He’d attributed her fanciful state to grief, but, unless he was mistaken, he’d hit on something... not that he necessarily believed her.

  “My special talents weren’t often appreciated by others,” she admitted. “I was derided and disbelieved. Through painful experience, I learned to submerge part of myself so others could be comfortable around me.” More softly, she added, “So I could be comfortable with me.”

  “What kind of talents?” Benno joked, “Knowing when the phone is about to ring? Predicting who’ll win the Superbowl?”

  Her brow wrinkled as she glanced at him. “I was hoping you might take me seriously.”

  Because he wasn’t sure he could, and because he didn’t want to admit that to her, he merely said, “I’m listening.”

  Sydney stood facing the sugar loaf shaped rock in the distance. She seemed to be trying to make up her mind whether or not she could trust him.

  “Really,” he added.

  Slowly she turned and walked back the way they had come. “I-I sensed things, knew things other people didn’t.” Face turned away toward the sea, her voice was low and muffled by the surf and the sound of gulls wheeling overhead. “Sometimes I knew things from dreams. Other times I was awake when I saw them. Mostly the visions were frightening.

  “Like nightmares?”

  Her expression solemn, she asked, “Do you ever dream?”

  “Sure, doesn’t everyone?”

  “And do you understand what each dream means?”

  Benno shrugged. “Not necessarily, but I can relate them to things that have happened to me.”

  “These dreams... or visions, if you will... were... different. They weren’t necessarily about me and they were rarely about the past.”

  “Premonitions?”

  She nodded. “I learned to hate them when I was eight, the first time the experience became more than a game. I saw my brother Dakota playing in an abandoned building. I knew he was in danger, that something terrible was going to happen to him. I didn’t know what... I couldn’t always take these things literally. Even so, I was scared. I told my father.”

  “And he didn’t believe you.”

  “He didn’t want to.” A fine tremor overtook her fingers as she brushed the hair from her face. “I remember him yelling at me, shaking me, ordering me to stop making up stupid stories.”

  “And did this premonition come true?”

  “A few days later. Dakota almost fell through the rotten floor to the basement, but his clothes caught on some jagged wood. One of his buddies was with him and got help. He was cut and bleeding. Twenty-seven stitches in his side. Three days in the hospital.” Her eyes filled with pain as they met his. “My father blamed me, said Dakota would never have thought of going into that building if I hadn’t put the idea into his head.”

  “Kind of rough on an eight year old.”

  “Especially since I never told my brother about what I saw.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “If he didn’t know, how could I have made him do it?”

  Even as Sydney denied her guilt, she seemed uncertain, as though she did blame herself, Benno thought. He placed an arm around her back and soothed her shoulder with a protective hand. He led her around a young couple sprawled out in the sand on a blanket, stereo blasting, dark glasses shading their eyes from the natural beauty around them as they groped each other in a manner far too intimate for a public place.

  Sydney didn’t seem to notice. She went on. “Age didn’t matter. Knowing things other people didn’t was always rough. A few years back, a wealthy friend met a man at a local bar. Candace told me she was in love and that she was getting married. I never met Lex. But premonition... sixth sense... whatever you call it made me believe the guy was a fortune hunter. And dangerous. I warned Candace.”

  “I take it she didn’t appreciate your interference.”

  Sydney shrugged. “I should have kept my mouth shut. I’m not sure exactly what happened. Telling her led to a break-up of the proposed marriage, and it made our friendship pretty rocky for a while.”

&nbs
p; “Sometimes being a friend isn’t the easiest thing for any of us,” Benno said, that knowledge gained first hand.

  “I was correct about Lex. He was vindictive – he stole some of Candace’s jewelry to get even. Eventually she and I got together again, though our relationship was never quite the same. Still I hated the responsibility. I was sick of it all, so I made an effort to reject what I had come to think of as my curse and be like everyone else. Not that changing was easy.”

  Benno was speaking from a totally different point of view, but one equally compelling when he said, “It’s difficult denying who we really are.” Especially when certain people were determined not to let you forget.

  “In the end, I had to see a hypnotherapist who helped me suppress the dreams and visions. That was ten years ago. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I finally believed I had succeeded. Now that disturbing part of myself seems to be reawakening.” A sharp edge to her voice cut through Benno when she amended, “Either that or I’m going crazy.”

  “I don’t think you’re crazy to love someone so much you wish them alive.”

  If only that were possible...

  Benno dropped his arm. There it was again. They were supposedly discussing Sydney’s problems, but his memories kept haunting him. Maybe it was the place. He’d chosen to return to Stone Beach because he’d had something to prove to himself. Too bad he was making such a damn poor job of it.

  They continued in silence until he realized they were coming abreast of his beachhouse and further up the street, his place of business. He checked his watch.

  “Listen, I really have to open up my place. If you’re not in a hurry to get back–”

  She jumped on the offer. “If I wouldn’t be in the way.”

  “A potential customer is never in the way,” he stated firmly, though there was more to his wanting Sydney’s continued company than her business. Her mere presence made him feel better about himself.

  “All right. I’m not in any hurry to get ho...back.”

  Benno recognized her choosing not to call the house on the cliff home. As they left the beach area, he wondered whether she would choose to stay or leave once Kenneth’s estate was settled. He didn’t know where she was from or where she was headed. He didn’t really know much about her, at all, Benno reminded himself, even as he committed to keeping an open mind.

  “There seems to be someone waiting for you,” she told him.

  That someone was leaning against the front door, her arms crossed over her buxomly chest, her pretty face serene as she watched them cross

  Main Street. “It’s about time, boss,” the dark-haired woman called. “I thought you ditched this place, leaving me looking for a job.”

  Benno smiled as he introduced her to Sydney. “This is Poppy Kehl, my only full time employee – and the only one with a mouth that’s going to get her in trouble one of these days.”

  “He believes in getting his money’s worth,” Poppy complained as she held out her hand. “Meet the combination cook, waitress and barmaid.”

  Sydney shook. “I’m Sydney Raferty.”

  “Sydney Raferty?” the brunette echoed, flipping her long, glossy pony tail over her shoulder. “Aren’t you the–”

  ”Kenneth Lord’s widow,” Sydney finished for her.

  Unlocking the door, Benno noted her smile faded, making him feel selfish and a mite guilty for wanting her company.

  “Tough break. I was really sorry to hear about the accident,” Poppy murmured. “I never really got to know Kenneth very well.” Then the cheery disposition Benno was used to took over as she changed the subject. “So, did the boss hire you to give me some help?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “I didn’t think so.” She followed Benno inside. “The man’s a slave driver.”

  Benno gave the woman he’d known since grammar school days a sharp look as he crossed to the bar. “And if you had said yes, Sydney, Poppy here would be complaining about how her tips would be cut in half.”

  Poppy ignored that. “Someone’s got to keep the man on his toes. With those looks, he could get away with anything, with practically anyone.”

  “Except Poppy,” he clarified.

  Not that he had ever been interested in her in that way. Though they’d both lived on the shanty side of town as youths, they’d been too smart to get hooked up with one another. When he’d returned to Stone Beach a few months back, they’d picked up their friendship as if he hadn’t been gone for all those years.

  “I like a man who’s more romantic,” Poppy was saying.

  To egg him on, Benno was sure. “She means manageable.”

  Benno didn’t add that Poppy had been through half the available men in town including her three ex-husbands, the first of whom had been Mick Brickman. He never had figured out the attraction there.

  Poppy took a white apron from a hook and put it around her fully-rounded hips which were encased in a pair of too-tight jeans. “I appreciate a man who’s not afraid of a woman with a mind of her own.”

  Sydney laughed. “So do I.”

  “We’ll get along just fine then. Where are you from?”

  “Seattle originally. But I’ve been living and working in L.A. since college.”

  Upending the bar stools, Benno was surprised by the information. She didn’t seem the type.

  “Working in the movie business?” Poppy asked as she went behind the bar and started setting up cups next to the espresso/cappuccino maker.

  “Advertising.” Sydney slid onto a stool. “I was a creative director with Long and Betz Creative Resources. Bite Brit Toothpaste... Scribble Pens... Surf’n’Tan... those were some of my accounts. I quit last month.”

  Realizing the two women were hitting it off, Benno was glad he’d brought Sydney along. Relaxed as she was now, she seemed like a different person than the woman who’d raised his protective instincts. Different, and infinitely more appealing. Whereas earlier she’d been cautious, now she was open.

  He wondered about the real woman. How much stock could he put in this psychic business? Although skeptical, he didn’t rule out Sydney’s “visions” being real. He would like to believe everything she’d told him – but he remembered the Tarot cards spread out on the coffee table. He would be sorely disappointed to find out she was another New Age fad freak. He’d met enough of them in the years he’d spent in tinsel town.

  Why should it matter to him?

  Being completely honest with himself, Benno admitted he was attracted to his friend’s widow no matter how inappropriate that might seem.

  EVERYTHING was going according to plan.

  That was the thought uppermost in his mind as he kissed the breath out of Martha Lord, who clung to him with the desperation of a woman in love. Through the kiss, he smiled at her naivete. She believed in him.

  She would do anything for him.

  And he would do anything... for himself.

  His smile widened as he put the dark-haired witch from him just far enough to plant a slash of annoyance in her eyes. He knew just how to work her, how to get what he wanted. He cupped her shoulders and stroked the tension out of them with seductive fingers.

  “So what are you going to do now?” he asked as if he were there totally for her support.

  “I’m going to move in, of course.”

  He laughed. “Your Sydney will be pleased.”

  Martha’s dark eyes narrowed unflatteringly. One day he would have the pleasure of telling her how truly unattractive she sometimes made herself. But not today.

  “She’s not my Sydney and I don’t care what that tramp thinks,” Martha said, her mouth setting in a pout. “That’s my home now that Kenneth is dead. Everything is mine.”

  “And soon it will be ours,” he murmured, kissing her again.

  Little did Martha know that he had more of an interest in Sydney than she. Little did she know that she was playing right into his hands. When Martha melted against him in complete surrender,
he freed her lips.

  “Unless you’ve changed your mind. Perhaps you’ll be bored with me once you have your hands on all that money.”

  “Bored? Never. We’ll find new ways to keep ourselves amused with Kenneth’s money.” An expression of doubt crossed her narrow face. “The photographs... they could ruin everything. If that tramp–”

  ”Sshh.” He put a finger to her lips. “Don’t even say it. Nothing is going to be ruined. Not while we’re together.”

  He’d taken care of the photographs just as he had the marriage certificate. He would have it all... and Sydney Raferty would rue the day she’d crossed him.

  WHEN SHE FINALLY tore herself away from Benno’s Place, Sydney realized how drawn she was to its proprietor. His hard good looks were difficult to ignore, as Poppy had pointed out. And more than that, she recognized within him a kindness and generosity of spirit that few people she was acquainted with possessed.

  Best of all, he made her feel.

  And yet, the knowledge that Benno lit a spark of life within her made Sydney as edgy and troubled as had their conversation on the beach. What in the world was she thinking of to be so interested in yet another man when her husband was barely cold?

  If he were indeed dead – she couldn’t quite forget the notion that Kenneth might be alive.

  Mind churning, Sydney wished she could trust her so-called gifts, even though she’d gone to such lengths to rid herself of the traits that made her different. Too much had happened in the last weeks to ignore. The dreams, the visions...

  How could she know what to believe when she’d been under so much stress that she’d walked away from a career it had taken her ten years to build?

  There were times when she could barely tell reality from dream anymore. She was tired, and not only in body but in spirit. So tired.

  Like last night when she’d imagined she’d found her wedding ring on the night stand.

  The ring.

  Closing her eyes, Sydney stopped for a moment and concentrated on the events of the night before. The fuzzy memory solidified. She could feel the gold’s weight, the outer nugget texture, the engraving within the band. That had all been real, hadn’t it? Thinking hard, she remembered clasping the symbol of her marriage in her palm. Then Benno had entered the room. The way he’d come up behind her on the deck had startled her. She’d lost her balance, and the ring had gone flying...