by Diane Bator
Lucy slipped on her sandals and ran out of the house yelling for him to get out of the car. The Honda’s tires squealed and the car pulled away from the curb. She stomped on the asphalt and cursed. The guy was messing with the wrong person.
“What’s all the yelling about?” Mitch appeared on his front porch in a pair of baggy sweats. His grey hair stuck up like he just crawled out of bed.
“Do you know the guy in that little blue car?” she asked.
His eyes narrowed and he glanced away to the Davidson house. “What?”
Lucy’s eyes were drawn by a movement in Clancy’s window. The curtain settled into place. She crossed the street and stopped at the bottom of Mitch’s sidewalk. “I know his name is Danny, but do you know who he is?”
“No.” Mitch put one hand on the door knob behind him and probably figured she’d finally gone crazy. “No, I don’t.”
Lucy glanced down the street to see where the Honda went. When she looked back, the door was closed and Mitch was gone. She marched back home to make another pot of coffee. Now she was mad and motivated, all she needed was more caffeine and her computer.
Thinking about her novel distracted her enough to put her guilt and restlessness somewhere else—onto one of her characters. Her two main characters were falling headlong into a romantic scene she’d struggled with for weeks. With the phone next to her in case Bobby or the kids phoned, her body was on autopilot while her brain buzzed with the surges of caffeine and inspiration. Her fingers flew across the keyboard and her heart raced as the scene flowed.
The front door opened a couple hours later while Lucy still sat glued to her keyboard. A familiar voice made her stomach lurch. “Lucy, I’m home.”
She cursed. Her fingers paused in mid-air for a second. They tingled at the recollection of Clancy’s warm skin in the hot tub. The image of his hard body and soft lips flashed through her mind. She must have forgotten to lock the door after she’d chased off the stalker.
“Hey, Lucy, are you up here?” Clancy asked. “Your front door was unlocked. Are you okay? I brought food.”
She didn’t have the time to answer. Her thoughts came almost too fast to type and nothing would stop her from writing scene after scene that oozed from her pores. Not even Clancy who walked straight into her bedroom like he lived there, which rattled her enough to make several typos in a row.
He set a large paper coffee cup and a plastic-wrapped sandwich on her desk then rubbed her shoulders. “Ooh, you’re inspired, I see. Is this the day you finally kill me off?”
“Yup.” Intent on getting the words into her computer, she sensed his hesitation without looking up. How had he known exactly where she was? She grunted her thanks, hoping he’d leave since she had nothing good to say. Not after he’d tried to seduce her. The soles of her feet sweated. She hadn’t exactly discouraged him.
Clancy chuckled. “Wow, must be a good scene. Make sure you eat something. We don’t need you dropping dead over your keyboard in mid-chapter.”
“I did eat something. Last night.” Her fingers fumbled over the keys, while she fought to ignore the scents of musk, soap, and coffee that surrounded her. “Did you talk to Bobby? Has he found my kids yet?”
“Not yet. They have an APB out on Roger and his car. They’re also releasing several photos to the media. You just have to sit tight.” Clancy hesitated. “He was able to find out where the call came from this morning.”
Lucy glanced up at him. “Where?”
“The cottage. He’s set up a meeting and is pushing for a search warrant.” He stood so close, his body heat warmed her back. “You know, if you’re not hungry, I could refrigerate that for later.”
“No. That’s okay. Just leave it.” Lucy paused, her hands shaking while they hovered over the keyboard. The smell of him intoxicated her. She closed her eyes briefly, then shook her head, determined not to let him distract her.
“I thought I’d warn you I’m going to work on my truck.” He dug his thumbs into her tight muscles to relax her, yet his presence made her more tense. “I was hoping you’d come over and yell at me in an hour or so. Will that work for you today?”
“I’m on a roll. I could be here for days.” She couldn’t bring herself to shrug him off or even look up. “Thanks for lunch.”
He leaned close and whispered. “You’re welcome. Did you meet all your deadlines?”
“Yes.” Lucy wished he’d either leave or give her a good reason to kick him out.
“Good girl.” He patted her shoulder, his hand lingering.
She gritted her teeth and reached for the fresh cup of coffee. “Stop being condescending.”
“You’re still mad at me for the whole hot tub thing, aren’t you?” Clancy moved around and leaned on her desk. He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Just for the record, I’m not sorry I put the moves on you. In case you haven’t noticed, I kind of enjoy your company. When we got in the hot tub, I found out you kind of like me too. What’s a guy to do?”
“What?” She nearly dropped the steaming coffee in her lap. She shouldn’t have let herself be weak. And she never should have even considered sleeping with Clancy. Had she gone crazy?
“What I’m trying to figure out is why you keep pretending to be mad at me when you’re not. Is it because of your kids or are you still in love with Roger?”
She stared in stunned silence and absorbed his words. “Are you insane?”
He chuckled. “Depends who you ask. I could give you a list of people who think so.” He crouched next to her chair. “Look, I know you and the kids have been through hell. I understand the whole situation better than you think, but I want to know if I have a snowball’s chance in Tahiti with you or if you’re still in love with your husband.”
She folded her arms across her stomach. “My husband is a suspected murderer who may have abducted my kids. I’m pretty sure me being in love with him isn’t an issue any more.”
“I hope not. It’s pretty hard to compete with a ghost.” Clancy met her gaze. “I’ll bet you’re killing my character off today, huh? Is that why it’s going so well? How do I die?”
“You’re still safe.” Lucy scowled, a shiver zigzagged down her back. “I’m writing out Roger’s character. You’re next.”
He raised both eyebrows. “In a different book, I hope. I’d like to be around for a while, you know, character development and all that. A chance to prove I’m not a screw up.”
She smiled in spite of her frustration. “You almost sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
Clancy stood up and winked. “English major.”
“And now you’re a tattoo artist?” Lucy laughed, some of her tension draining.
“Honey, I’m a Renaissance man. I’ve tried many things that could enhance your novels.” He patted her shoulder again then walked out of her bedroom.
Lucy stared after him, her eyebrows raised. Once he left her house, she ran downstairs to make sure the door was locked. No point in being a sitting duck for anyone else, especially Roger.
She opened the wrapper and took a whiff. Warm and gooey with melted cheese, the sandwich smelled heavenly. While she typed with one hand, she shoveled food into her mouth with the other. After two bites, she ignored the keyboard. Maybe she should write about the sandwich instead of another dead body. Much more appetizing.
The humidity from the storm rolling in made Lucy’s clothes cling to her skin. Stiff from sitting for so long, she eased her weary body off her chair to change clothes. She took a soda from the fridge then wandered into the front yard and sat cross-legged in the grass to gaze at the steel gray sky. A bead of sweat trickled down her chest, leaving a wet spot on her shirt. While it wasn’t raining yet, the air was damp and heavy. The rain would do little to cool her skin and the humidity later would only make the house hotter. Steamier.
Today alone she’d done more writing than she had all month. Quiet was exactly what she’d wanted, but the silence deafened rather than comfor
ted her. No kids disrupted the peace. No loud neighbors crashed mealtimes. Not one telemarketer had called to sell her new windows or time-shares. She was completely alone.
There was finally peace on earth and Lucy hated every second of it.
A wispy patch of cloud sat to the left of the sun. Dark clouds sailed across the sky at an alarming speed and she smiled. There might actually be a dark and stormy night. She could take advantage and write something spooky and sinister by candle light with pen and paper.
She’d strolled outside to see if there was still life on Earth. If there was, it certainly wasn’t in her neighborhood. Bishop Street was eerily quiet. April was at work, Mitch was either at work or in a pub somewhere, even the stalker took the rest of the day off after she’d tried to confront him, and Clancy…
She had no idea where Clancy was, except he wasn’t working on that rusty old hulk in his garage like he’d said nor was he hanging around to bother her. Probably contacting his friends about the contents of the shaving kit, about Roger, about her kids, or visiting his mom in the hospital. Either way, he’d probably avoid her for a while, which was fine by her.
Propelled by the force of strong winds, the dark clouds rolled toward the sun, gaining momentum until they swallowed the sun. The wispy white clouds in front of them turned all the colors of a crystal rainbow. Lucy drew in a breath and she mentally snapped a photo of the shimmering smears of color. An artist’s crystalline palette. A remarkable natural phenomenon and she had no one to share with.
Lucy hated being alone like never before.
The kids still hadn’t called. She was sick to her stomach with dread and fought off one horrific thought after another. Roger could have decided he wanted them after all and took them out of the country instead of to the cottage. How would she ever know? Tears filled her eyes and she took a deep breath. She’d be a basket case by nightfall if she let the negative thoughts take over. Better to keep busy by calling every number she had on her list.
Rain fell in confused droplets that scurried in every direction before settling into a steady drizzle around her that made the grass dance and the smell of wet earth swirl around her. When the heavy raindrops beat down, she released her long hair from its ponytail and let the water saturate her from head to toe. In seconds, her hair hung straight over her chest and her clothes hugged her body.
Where was her stalker—Danny—now? He’d been waiting to see how pathetic she really was, he’d missed his chance.
Roger’s e-mail about selling the house had caught her off guard. He always needed to be in control of everything. He’d looked after all of their money and made all of their investments without her input. Only the house was in both their names. Since there was no way he could wipe her name off the title, he had to force her to sell. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. She could sell everything and move back to Seattle with the kids. At least there she’d have family and support and they could start over.
Unless he came back to kill her. The kids, the house, everything would be his.
Her head spun. If she didn’t give up coffee soon, she’d fly right off the face of the earth. She should drink nothing but green tea and water for the rest of her life. No more alcohol. She’d come so close to giving in to Clancy. Dangerously close. A shiver ran the length of her body.
Soaked, she stumbled into the house and dried off. Dark thoughts were only a breath away, lurking in the darkness like demons. She pushed away the negativity, unable to fathom how she’d gone so deep into herself and her self-pity she’d forgotten she had three kids to live for.
Lucy plopped onto her chair in front of the computer and thought about her book. Her brow furrowed. How had she tried to kill Roger in her daydream? No idea. A real writer would have taken notes. She pulled out a notebook to make notes for a character bent on suicide who gets dragged into a murder plot, unsure she’d have the fortitude to write something so dark.
As she’d predicted, the house grew even hotter as the rain shower ended and the sun popped out from behind the clouds. She slid open the bedroom window and let the muggy breeze caress her. The street remained deserted for the first time in days and, she longed for human contact—as long as it wasn’t Clancy or any of his friends.
Her gaze landed on a business card on the desk top. Meeting Katie and Mimsy still seemed surreal, mostly due to the alcohol in her system and Clancy’s presence. She picked up the card and reached for the phone. At least she could meet other people with people who shared her obsession with words.
Lucy dialed the number. Before the phone even rang, she hung up and toyed with the business card. Her stomach slithered into knots while her finger traced the bookstore logo. She’d finally found a group of people who loved to write as much as she did and she was on the verge of having a panic attack. Had she become that antisocial since Roger left?
She clutched the business card in her hand and wandered to the kitchen. While she dialed Katie’s number again, she distracted herself by making a pot of herbal tea since there was already enough caffeine in her system to give King Kong jitters.
A woman answered on the third ring. “Tales and Retales, Katie speaking.”
Lucy’s mouth dried out and her mind went blank. She suddenly didn’t know what to say, which was part of why she was a writer. Paper gave her a second chance to erase the stupid things she said. The backspace key was her best friend. How sad.
She took a deep breath. “Hi, is this Katie Mullins?”
“Sure is. How can I help you?” Katie was all business.
“This is Lucy Stephen.” She paused. “We met in Java Jo’s the other day.”
“Oh great.” Katie actually sounded excited. “I was really hoping you’d call. Please tell me you want to join our writing group.”
Lucy clunked the kettle against the sink. “Really?”
Katie never gave her a chance to speak. “I Googled you later and found a bunch of articles and stories you wrote. I love your stuff. Do you have any books out? I didn’t see anything on-line except your blog. If not, that’s okay, but our little group has connections. I’m sure someone can help you. Have you ever thought of writing a novel?”
Lucy’s face and neck burned. “One—well, actually, two. One is done and I’m looking for a publisher. The other one’s still a work in progress.”
“Perfect.” Plastic bags rustled at Katie’s end.
Lucy didn’t think it was so perfect. She’d submitted her novel to anyone and everyone for months and still didn’t have a publisher. “You sound busy. I should call back later. ”
“No, I don’t.” Bells jingled when Katie spoke like someone had either come or gone from her shop. “What can I do for you, Lucy?”
She resisted the urge to hang up. Getting more information couldn’t hurt. “I wanted to ask about your writing group. When and where’s your next meeting?”
“Tuesday evenings at seven o’clock at the bookstore.” Katie was quick to answer. “We used to meet at different members’ homes earlier in the day, but since we moved the meetings to the bookstore, we had to change the time. I hope you’re planning to check out a meeting next week.”
Her throat tightened. What was she thinking? With everything going in her life, no car and no babysitter, there was no way she could join the group. “You know what? I don’t think it’s going to work out. I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry.”
Lucy hung up and closed her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Even if she could get to the meetings, she had no one to watch the kids. She slid down the cupboard to the kitchen floor and let the tears flow. Everything in her life seemed a thousand times more complicated since Roger walked out. With the police investigating him and a statewide manhunt.
How had her life come to this? Her husband left and took all semblance of security away. Her body shook with sobs. She missed her kids. She missed the life she used to have. She missed the feeling of having everything under control.
When the phone rang, Lucy snatche
d the receiver, hoping to hear her kids’ voices. “Hello?”
“It’s Katie. Are you okay? I got worried when you hung up so abruptly.”
Lucy stared at the floor. Was she okay? “How did you get my phone number?”
“Caller ID.” Katie chuckled. “I get a lot of crank calls, especially after the three ring circus we had here a little while ago. I’m sure you read all about me in the papers. Look, if you don’t want to join the group, that’s fine. There’s no pressure.”
Lucy wiped her nose and released a pent up sigh. “It’s not that I don’t want to join.”
“To be honest, my husband and I recently separated and have three young kids. I don’t know many people here and I don’t have a babysitter.”
“Oh yeah? Where do you live?” Katie sounded genuinely interested.
Lucy hesitated. “Bishop Street.”
“Perfect. A few of our members car pool from the senior’s home a couple blocks from your house.” Another jingle of bells in the background. Katie had another customer.
When Lucy sniffed and stood up, her legs wobbled like rubber bands. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Mimsy’s been after me to track you down and if I let you get away that easily, she’ll have my hide. If there’s a way to get you writing with us, I’ll do whatever it takes.” They laughed before Katie cut the call short. “Sorry, I’ve got to run. I’ll give you a call Monday and make sure we’re good to go, okay? Hopefully, we’ll see you Tuesday. Oh, and bring a few pages of your work to read to the group if you’d like. I hope you’re not shy in front of a crowd of people.”
“That sounds great. Thanks.” Lucy smiled through the tears that trickled over her cheeks, but cringed inside as she hung up.
