Julius and Estelle, called by her fear, arrowed toward Gustavia and the Maverick. Combining their energy, the two spirits produced a barrier. It didn’t slow the car by much, but it was the best they could do and they hoped it was enough. The burst of energy depleted both their reserves leaving them powerless to do more than watch what happened next.
Dimly, Gustavia became aware of the shrieking from the tires as she rounded the next bend in the road and knew the worst was yet to come. There was one final curve coming up before the road straightened for the last long run into town. The slope leveled out into a long flat section of road where she would be able to slow down before she barreled through the village; but, first, she had to make that last curve.
Gaining momentum slightly, the Maverick held to the road around the tightest section of the curve but, with a sinking feeling, Gustavia felt the tires break free as she hit a small patch of gravel just before she could straighten out. The car, thrown from the pavement, careened down the shallow embankment, fishtailing as she tried to steer through clumps of grass hoping to slow the car. Her plan worked well enough that when they passed through a shallow thicket of underbrush and bumped into a large pine tree, the car was already nearly stopped.
Neither woman spoke at first, then Gustavia reached over and grasped Kat’s hand. “It’s over, are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.” She took a deep breath, then took stock. “I think I’m going to have a couple of bruises.”
Gustavia unfastened her seat belt and wrenched the door open. Her first thought was to help Kat, get to her side of the car and assess any injuries. She barely registered the mounting ache in her head where, at some point that she didn’t even remember, it had connected with the side window.
Kat’s door was wedged against a small rock but that wasn’t going to stop her. Using a dead branch, Gustavia levered the rock out of the way—all the time reassuring her friend—and yanked open the door. Dropping to her knees, she checked Kat for signs of trauma, and finding none, helped her out of the car.
Sounds came slowly back as the adrenalin rush began to subside. With a moan of despair, she slumped down on a nearby fallen tree pulling Kat down to sit beside her and began to cry.
“Gustavia, oh my God. Are you okay? Kat, say something.” Julie and Amethyst came crashing through the brush with anxious faces.
“We’re okay,” Kat replied, her voice trembled then strengthened. “We’re okay.”
“You scared the life out of us. What happened?”
“The brakes, it was the brakes. I saw Julius and Estelle; they did something to help slow the car then they were gone.” Gustavia’s hands shook as she reached up to gingerly probe the side of her head, the ache was getting worse.
“Let me look,” Julie gently brushed the hair back to see a sizable lump. “She’s hurt,” Julie said pulling her phone from her pocket to see if there was service. Full bars. She called the paramedics, then she called Gustavia’s brother Zack.
“I’m fine, it’s just a little bump. There’s no need to call in the cavalry.”
“You’re shaking like a leaf. You’re getting checked out by the paramedics. Zack is a cop; he’s going to find out anyway. Don’t you think the news is better coming from me than over the police scanner? He cares about you no matter what you think.”
“I know, I know. Spare me the lecture. I’ve got a headache already.”
Amethyst contacted Kat’s family to let them know what had happened and reassure them.
Finally, Julie called Tyler as she could already hear sirens in the distance.
Zack Roman was the first to arrive and Julie knew she’d been right to call him. For once, he was tender with his sister. Gesturing for Julie to move aside, he sat beside Gustavia, put his arm around her and held on. Her eyes went wide, surprised, when she realized he, too, was trembling slightly. He cared. Deep inside, she’d always known he did, but it was nice to see it in his eyes.
He said nothing, but after a few moments took a deep breath, gave her a squeeze, and then went over to the car to take a look at it.
“The damage doesn’t look too bad, sis. What happened?”
“The brakes failed.” She shuddered as she relived the moment she’d felt the pedal slide to the floor with no resistance. “I could have been killed—we could have been killed. Oh, Kat. I’m so sorry. I just had the car in for its yearly check and the mechanic said she was in fine shape. I had no idea. You must have been so scared.”
“It all happened so fast, I didn’t have enough time to be scared until it was pretty much all over; but I knew we were going to be fine. Spirit told me to stay calm.”
Zack’s eyes narrowed as suspicion entered his mind. He knelt on the ground to check under the car. In its present position he couldn’t tell if the brakes had been tampered with. but he followed his instincts, called in a favor, and had a trusted mechanic pick up the car, and instructed him to give it the once-over then call him with the results.
When the paramedics arrived, they confirmed that, other than a few bumps and bruises, Kat was fine; but Gustavia probably had a minor concussion so she got to ride with them to the ER.
Julie and the other women, followed by Zack in his cruiser, made the trip behind the ambulance while Tyler stayed behind, under Zack’s orders, to supervise the tow truck. He would meet the others once the car was hauled away.
Gustavia was treated and released; the knot on her head requiring ice and painkillers, was not a concussion. She had been very lucky.
Arriving back at Julie’s house, they found Finn waiting for them. After his crew called it a day, he hadn’t wanted to leave the house unsecured so he stayed. At least that’s what he told himself. It had nothing to do with Gustavia’s being hurt and his intense need to see firsthand just how badly. To make sure she was alright.
Unable to just stand around and do nothing, he’d gone inside and, hoping Julie would forgive him for the intrusion, raided her pantry to put together a batch of cookies. His mother had passed along her habit of using baking as a method to relieve stress. There was something calming about measuring and mixing ingredients, and the activity kept his mind from wandering. When Julie texted him that neither woman had been badly injured and that they expected to be back within the hour, Finn was finally able to relax a little and allow some of the tension to leave his body.
And when he saw Gustavia walk through the door a little banged up but whole, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—admit it, but he felt the urge to leap for joy.
Gratefully munching on a homemade cookie, Gustavia, leaving out the part about seeing Julius and Estelle, went over the story one more time though, by the end of her recitation, she was looking a little pale.
Finn noticed her flagging energy and said, “Samantha’s having her first sleepover birthday party. I’d just be going home to an empty house.” He seemed slightly unnerved at the prospect. “Let me take you home, get you settled in, and I’ll even cook dinner.”
Hadn’t she said, just this morning, that she thought seeing him was a bad idea? Seeing him without the buffer of Samantha? Worse idea. Absolutely not. The answer was no—just no.
So, naturally, she said, “Yes.”
_,.-'~'-.,_
Driving toward Gustavia’s home for the first time, Finn wondered what to expect. She was quiet. After the ordeal she’d been through, he wasn’t surprised. He was impressed with the way she’d handled herself. Only her quick thinking kept the accident from turning deadly.
He’d keyed her address into his GPS and, when he turned down her street, he knew without being told exactly which house was hers; the charming one constructed from what looked like a jumble of additions. Cedar-shake siding weathered to a silvery gray below a modified, hipped roof whose corners had been rounded to provide the feel of a thatched cottage.
There was almost no lawn in front because the entire yard was an artfully designed garden. There were primrose-lined stone paths leading through plantings
designed to attract butterflies. On the far side of the house was a gate leading to the back yard; over the gate arched a simple arbor. Beautiful purple Clematis climbed its trellised sides. It was lovely.
“Great house. It suits your personality.”
Distracted with wondering what on earth had caused her to agree to this, Gustavia mumbled, “Mmhm.”
“How’s the head? Are you in pain?” She seemed very distant, not herself. Understandable; but all the same, he was concerned.
She pulled her attention back with an effort. “No, the painkillers are working. Are you sure you want to stay? I feel fine. Really. “
Not really, he thought. Not fine at all. Worried and a little annoyed, maybe. But not fine. No way was he leaving her alone until she was more settled. Sam would kill him if anything happened to Miss Gustavia. Right now, it was his job to see that nothing did.
“I’ll stay. I want to.” He insisted despite her skeptically arched eyebrow and sidelong glance.
She shrugged. Whatever. He’d better keep a lid on the snark this time. She wasn’t in the mood; it had been a long day already. Gustavia unlocked the door gesturing for him to step inside while she dealt with the security system. She hated the thing; but after today, she might have to rethink that position.
Logan, if he was behind this, and she was pretty sure he was, had clearly been bold enough to cut the brake lines on her car in broad daylight. She had to face the truth—he’d tried to hurt her, maybe kill her. Without being told, she knew those were Zack’s suspicions and she also knew his instincts were correct.
Tomorrow she’d call Zack and thank him for making her install the stupid alarm; it wouldn’t kill her to be nice to him. Not after seeing how rattled he’d been at the scene today. That had been quite the surprise.
While her thoughts were otherwise occupied, she realized Finn had been speaking and she had no idea what he’d said. “Sorry, I’m a little distracted. It’s been a long day.”
That was obvious, he thought, considering the visible strain around her eyes. Her normally luminous skin was pale.
“Just point me toward the kitchen. You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten something more substantial than a cookie. Not that my cookies are wimpy.”
A hint of a twinkle finally reached her eyes, “Can you cook?”
“I am a man of many skills,” he stated as he followed her into the kitchen. While she put on a pot of water for tea rummaged through the fridge to see what was there to work with.
It was too late to avoid this situation so she might as well at least try to relax and enjoy it, take this opportunity to get him out of her system.
“So, what are we having tonight? The typical dude’s go-to? An omelet?”
“You think so little of me? Please.” Taking mock offense and pulling ingredients from the fridge he asked, “What kind of herbs are in your planting beds?”
“How do you know I grow herbs?”
Raising an eyebrow, he waved a hand to indicate it was a foolish question. She pointed to the sliding glass doors, “See for yourself. Through the doors, down the path and to the left.”
If her front yard was lovely, it paled in comparison to the back yard. He found a variety of herbs planted in well-mulched, tiered beds. Mature trees, bushes and shrubs provided shade for those plants that thrived in lower sun conditions; vegetable beds nestled next to complimentary plantings of flowers. It was meticulously planned to provide enough produce for the table as well as an oasis of peace. He snipped a bit of thyme, rosemary, some tarragon, and a few sprigs of parsley. Then, seeing she had already begun harvesting small potatoes from a contained bed, he pulled six or so of the small, red gems from the dirt.
Back in the kitchen, he scrubbed the potatoes, coated them with the fragrant extra-virgin olive oil she kept in a container beside the range, sprinkled them with parsley and tarragon and popped them in the oven. While they were roasting, he preheated the cook top grill, mixed together his favorite blend of seasonings, then rubbed it into a couple chicken cutlets and set them to grilling. Next, he sliced two rashers of bacon into a sauté pan.
After cooking it to a tender crisp, he pulled out the bacon and set it aside. To the same pan he added crushed garlic, then tossed in a handful of green beans, and some almonds he found in a jar in the cupboard. At the end, he finished the dish with a splash of balsamic vinegar and added back the bacon.
It wasn’t an omelet. Gustavia was impressed and realized she actually was hungry.
“Okay, you’re good,” her appreciative tone only slightly tinged with surprise.
“It isn’t polite to say I told you so, so I’ll refrain. But it won’t be easy. The temptation to rub it in is nearly overwhelming.” His teasing smile made her heart skip a beat. Maybe his behavior the other day had been an aberration. She started to relax and enjoy the conversation.
He talked about how the roof was coming along, described how some of the transitions from one style of architecture to the other created challenges for his crew and how they solved them.
His voice, slightly husky and with that faint Texas flavor was soothing to her nerves and he seemed to understand that she was still a little frazzled.
There’d been precious little time for her to process the events of the day, the danger she’d faced and still might. As he continued to talk and she relaxed into the sound, her eyes filled with tears that finally spilled down her face as she started to shake.
Falling silent, he reached across the breakfast bar where they were seated and took her hand, absentmindedly brushing his fingers across her soft skin. The silent shaking turned to sobs as emotions overwhelmed her.
“I could’ve killed her,” she wailed. “Oh, my God, she could have died, and it would have been all my fault.”
Keeping hold of her hand, he rounded the end of the bar and pulled her into his arms. “Shhh, honey,” he whispered against her hair. “Kat’s fine. You’re fine. You were amazing; you handled it, the car, everything. You kept her safe. It’s over now.”
“It happened so fast I didn’t have time to think, but now I can’t stop thinking about it. It keeps replaying in my mind: the scream of the tires, the guard rail flashing past, and that tree rushing at me.”
He didn’t know what else to do so he lowered his head and brushed her lips with his. Just the merest touch at first, then as though some invisible bond keeping them apart finally snapped, they dived into the kiss and it heated up to smoking hot in an instant. Her hands speared into his hair as he crushed her close, then closer still.
Her breath mingled with his as she sighed against his lips, returning kiss for kiss.
All he could think, at first, was how right this felt, how perfectly she fit against him. His body tensed into fight or flight mode, tightening his gut as he fought to tame both fear and elation. Just the merest whisper of a voice in his mind said, “Yes, please, go and be happy.” The voice sounded like Lila.
No—he answered—not yet, I’m not ready.
Gustavia wasn’t crying now. She wasn’t even thinking. Lost in the sensation of his lips as the touch of them loosened everything inside of her, she gave herself without reservation until he slowly pulled back, resting his forehead against hers.
“I didn’t want to do that.” It was exactly the wrong thing to say.
“Then why did you?” Eyes firing, her spine stiffened and she flattened her palms against his chest pushing him forcefully away. A moment too late he remembered she could probably kick his butt. “You’ve been giving off mixed signals since just about day one. What is your deal? Is it me in particular or are you just one of those guys?” The scathing tone of her voice was sharp enough to cut glass.
Anger crowded out everything else; she could have spit nails.
“It’s not personal.” And it wasn’t. Not really. He was only trying to protect his daughter. To keep her from getting too attached to a woman who might not stay part of her life.
Everything in him wanted to sweep Gu
stavia off her feet, to be her knight in shining armor, carry her off to his castle forever.
Okay, he didn’t have a castle—he had a duplex next the Laundromat—but the intention was still the same. He just couldn’t shake the dreaded feeling that he would have to watch his daughter sink into the dark place again if he brought another woman into her life. Look how close she had come today. A little less skill, a bit more loose gravel on the road, a car coming the other way and she would have been gone. Just like that. Just like Lila.
Sam was already too deeply involved. He had to put a stop to it. Now. It never occurred to him it was his own heart he was trying to protect.
Gustavia saw something flicker through his eyes, a memory, a ghost from the past. Okay, so he had his own demons. Everybody did. It didn’t matter, though. He was rejecting her and using the old—it’s not you, it’s me—line to do it. Sure, it was personal. And she got it; his wife died in a car accident. She’d just had a car accident. It had to be bringing up those memories. Made perfect sense. A few kisses weren’t enough to overcome his deep fear. She felt sorry for him, sorry for herself and sorry for Sam.
“Gustavia, I—I don’t know what to say.”
She said nothing, torn between one more rejection and her sense of empathy; she realized there was no middle ground, no place for them to meet.
Looking away, she waited for him to leave.
Chapter 12
Zack’s mechanic had already given him the good news/bad news situation.
The good news: the damage was repairable. Old cars with metal frames generally stood up to trees better than their newer counterparts.
The bad news: the brake lines had been cut, the parking brake tampered with. Someone had tried to hurt his sister.
No doubt in his mind, Logan Ellis was back. Julie’s ex-fiancé blamed Gustavia when his scam on Julie fell through. Zack turned the car over to forensics hoping the jerk had left something, some shred of evidence he could use to nail him.
Bells On Her Toes (Psychic Seasons Page 8
