Praying for Time

by Carlene Thompson

  She held the banister as she ran down the staircase, afraid she’d trip on her pajama legs that were a tad too long. When she reached the bottom, Queenie had already disappeared but her barking came from the direction of the kitchen. Vanessa stubbed her toe on a chair leg, yelled ‘Ouch!’ then limped into the kitchen where Sammy stood rigid and white-faced while Audrey and Cara milled around him.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Audrey nearly shouted. ‘Are you hurt? Did you cut yourself with that knife?’

  ‘Knife!’ Vanessa cried. ‘Sammy, why do you have a knife?’

  Cara stroked his arm. ‘You don’t have to tell the grown-ups what happened. Just tell me. I won’t let you get in trouble.’

  Sammy finally focused on Cara, who took the knife from his grip. ‘It’s only a dull dinner knife,’ she told Audrey and Vanessa. ‘Show them your hands, Sammy, so they can see you aren’t dripping in blood.’

  Sammy turned mechanically and held up his uncut hands. The women both let out deep breaths. Queenie had stopped barking but went to the boy’s side, as if to protect him. ‘What’s wrong, Sammy?’ Vanessa asked gently. ‘Why did you scream?’

  ‘I woke up and I was hungry. I came downstairs to have a peanut butter sandwich. I put the bread on a plate and spread the peanut butter – I didn’t use a ton of peanut butter, I promise – and I was cutting it because Dad told me that was the polite way to eat a sandwich. I was standing right here beside the sink and I looked up and—’

  All gazed anxiously at his pale face and big blue eyes.

  ‘And?’ Cara prompted.

  ‘And a man was standing outside staring in at me. That’s what was so scary. He kept staring at me. Peeping Toms run away. He didn’t. Even when I screamed he didn’t move.’

  ‘What did he look like?’ Vanessa asked.

  ‘He had light brown hair that was longer than most guys’ hair around here. His eyes were blue. He seemed younger than my dad. I believe girls would think he was handsome. He looked sort of like Dr Montgomery.’

  Vanessa willed herself not to glance in alarm at Audrey. Could the man have been Brody Montgomery? Or had the Poe story Sammy read earlier frightened him into thinking he saw someone staring at him – staring at him with a blue eye like the man in the story? Only Sammy didn’t say this man had only one blue eye. And he said he was young and handsome.

  ‘Are you sure it wasn’t Pete McGuire who works here?’

  ‘Mr McGuire? He’s ancient!’ Sammy exclaimed.

  ‘When did the man run away?’ Cara asked.

  ‘When I screamed the second time.’ Sammy’s face had turned red. ‘I screamed like a scared little girl. I’m sorry I woke up everyone.’

  Cara smiled at him. ‘Anyone would have screamed. Even a grown-up man. It doesn’t mean you’re not brave.’

  ‘All right. We had a staring peeping Tom,’ Vanessa said. ‘We’re not going to let it ruin our night. The doors and windows are all locked and we have Queenie to protect us so we’re as safe as safe can be.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Cara asked.

  ‘Yeah, she’s sure. We’re safe.’ Sammy’s voice suddenly sounded more mature and Vanessa knew he was trying to recover from his embarrassing screaming fit. ‘I’m not a bit sleepy.’ He looked at Audrey. ‘Can Cara have a snack and stay up to watch TV with me? Just for fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Fine,’ Audrey said. ‘Do you want a peanut butter sandwich, Cara?’

  ‘I sure do,’ Cara announced. ‘What do you want to watch, Sammy?’

  Audrey nodded at Vanessa and they walked out of the kitchen. They saw that Grace was sleeping and looked more peaceful than she had all day. ‘Good.’ Audrey paused. ‘Nessa, who do you think it was?’

  ‘You know I think it was Brody,’ Vanessa said reluctantly.

  ‘Are you going to call Wade Baylor?’

  ‘No. I’m going to call Christian.’

  Max Newman buried his hands in the pockets of his wool pea coat and stared out over the ocean. He’d never liked walking on the beach at night. He didn’t think it was romantic – only lonely and sad, especially on dreary days and after sunset. But his business was photographing and painting the beach. Occasionally someone like Grace Everly wanted something different like paintings of lighthouses, but they were still associated with the sea. He supposed it was his destiny to be dependent on a part of nature he didn’t like. His dreams of creating avant-garde art for gallery showings in New York City galleries had died years ago.

  He sighed and reached into his pocket for his cigarettes, cupping his hand against the wind to light one. He didn’t smoke a lot, but he also didn’t drink a lot because he didn’t handle alcohol well, but tonight he’d done both and he’d probably drink even more when he got home. Home – the two-story house decorated in 1970 and not touched since then. His mother had made him promise before she left him the house in her will that it would remain exactly the same. Even some of his grandmother’s things lay stored in the attic. Sometimes he could still smell the potpourri his mother had sprinkled all over the place. Of course he could redecorate and she’d never know now, but he didn’t have the money or the enthusiasm. He didn’t care how the damned house looked or smelled as long as everything worked.

  Tonight he was in a funk. He’d sold a painting and a large, framed photograph at the store. That should have made him feel somewhat happy since it was winter when sales were always down, but it didn’t – not after Jane Drake dropped in and announced that not only Christian Montgomery but also Vanessa Everly had found the body of Zane Felder. Wade had told Jane that they’d been together when Christian got a message to come to the Diamond Rose. Vanessa and Christian together! Jane had smirked when she told him, knowing he’d been with Vanessa just hours earlier at the party. She dumped you and ran straight to Christian, her eyes said. What do you think of that, you loser?

  It wasn’t as if Max had a ‘thing’ for Vanessa. He hadn’t even seen her for years. But they’d had such a good time at Nia’s. She’d looked beautiful and she’d seemed pleased to be with him. He’d been thrilled to be with her – the television star. He knew they’d made a striking couple. He knew she’d had a good time, even though she acted strained when they’d sat with Jane and Simon Drake. Then there was that unfortunate confrontation with Zane as they were leaving. Damn Zane! Why did he have to attack her and try to make her feel guilty for not pounding the pavement looking for Brody? Zane was an oddball and unpredictable, but he’d never made Max really angry until then. Apparently something he’d said had gotten to Vanessa, though. She’d run straight to Christian, which Max felt was a slap in the face to him.

  He finished his cigarette and dropped it in the sand. Then he realized he was nearing the Seraphim May. The shipwreck was a big tourist attraction and when he was young, the local kids had been fascinated by it. He’d taken photos of it but he’d always hated it. He would never have admitted it, but the wreck gave him the creeps. And there it was, an ugly rotting hulk stuck in the moist sand and looming against the nightscape. Max wished it would turn to dust and blow away.

  He was pulling another cigarette out of the pack when his gaze turned from the ship and saw a man walking toward him. He was tall and moved with long, energetic strides, his arms swinging as if he were bursting with energy. ‘Max!’

  Max felt alarm spike through him. ‘Brody?’

  ‘Yes. What are you doing out here? You hate the beach at night.’

  They were only a few feet apart now and Max’s stomach fluttered. Everyone was searching for Brody Montgomery, the dangerous schizophrenic off his medication. Max knew the alcohol he’d consumed had befuddled his thinking, made him so careless he was taking a risk by walking the beach alone at night. He hadn’t given Brody a thought. But now Brody was smiling. Max decided the safest behavior was to keep things light and casual.

  ‘I was bored and restless at home. Nothing good on TV. The house suddenly felt like it was closing in on me. What are you doing on the beach?’

  T
hey were face to face now, Brody a couple of inches taller than Max. His longish hair blew in the slight breeze and his face was thinner than the last time Max had seen him. His jacket hung open over a dark sweatshirt, his hands were empty, not holding a weapon as Max had feared. ‘I’m looking for someone.’

  ‘Oh, who?’ Max went cold, mentally kicking himself. ‘Not that it’s any of my business. Maybe I should just let you look.’

  ‘You can help me.’

  ‘Well, I might go home.’

  Brody’s smile faded and he stared at Max who felt like Brody wasn’t going to let him go home.

  ‘Or we could go to Hoppy’s Bar for a beer.’

  ‘Hoppy’s Bar?’ Brody repeated slowly. ‘Is it still open?’

  ‘I think it was the first business in Everly Cliffs and it’ll be the last!’

  ‘I don’t want a beer.’

  ‘They have other drinks, guy. What was it you used to like? Bourbon?’

  Brody said flatly, ‘I don’t drink anymore. I don’t play tennis anymore. I don’t have friends anymore.’

  ‘You don’t have friends? What am I? C’mon, let’s go to Hoppy’s.’

  Brody’s expression suddenly changed from blank to suspicious. ‘Why are you determined to get me to Hoppy’s?’

  Max was so tense he couldn’t move. ‘I don’t want to go home. I’d like to have a few drinks with a friend. I don’t have any alcohol at home … I just …’

  ‘You just what?’ Brody’s voice deepened and took on an edge. ‘You just want to get me in a public place so someone will call the police? They’re looking for me.’

  ‘They are?’ Brody stared. ‘Brody, settle down. I didn’t give it a thought.’

  ‘Are you the one who’s been watching me, spying on me?’

  ‘Spying on you? I don’t even know where you’re staying.’

  ‘You’re trying to trap me.’ Brody’s blue eyes narrowed and his body twitched. ‘You’re against me. You’ve always been against me, even in the tournaments—’

  ‘The tournaments? What tournaments? Oh, the tennis tournaments? We were competitors! Sure I wanted to win. That’s only natural. It was only a game and we were kids, Brode-man.’

  ‘Do not call me Brode-man. I am Sir Brody, you,’ Brody’s voice rose, ‘you, traitor, lurking around the beach at night trying to catch me! Do you hope to get a reward? Is that it? Don’t you have any honor? You are supposed to offer protection and aid to a fellow knight!’

  ‘I’m not a—’

  Before Max had a chance to move, Brody’s right fist punched him in the abdomen, knocking what felt like every ounce of air from Max’s body. He groaned and bent double before a fist struck his jaw. He heard a sickening grinding sound in his jaw and tasted blood. The world spun before it went black and he fell to the damp beach sand.

  THIRTEEN

  As Christian drove up the hill to Everly Cliffs, he saw that every porch light shone. He stopped the car at the front porch steps and hurried to Vanessa, who sat huddled in a robe, house slippers, and a blanket. She jumped to her feet when she saw him and in a moment he was hugging her tightly.

  ‘Chris?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I can’t get my breath.’

  ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry,’ he said, loosening his grip but not letting go. ‘What are you doing out here?’

  ‘Waiting for you.’

  ‘But if someone’s wandering around …’

  ‘He’s not going to snatch me off this blindingly bright porch. You can probably see me from downtown.’ She buried her head against his chest. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’

  ‘So am I. I wish I’d stayed when I was here earlier. Is Grace all right?’

  ‘She slept through everything. I checked on Roxanne and she was asleep, too, which surprises me.’

  ‘You never get much sleep in a hospital. There’s noise all night. She’s probably just catching up. And Grace wore herself out today. Anyway, tell me again what happened.’

  On the phone she’d explained to him about Sammy getting up to fix a sandwich and a man looking in at him. ‘Sammy said he had light brown hair, sort of long, with blue eyes, and he looked like you.’

  Christian sighed and closed his eyes. ‘Well, that pretty much nails it. Brody was here looking in your kitchen window.’

  ‘And he wasn’t scared off easily.’

  He sank down in the rocking chair Vanessa had abandoned as Pete McGuire limped up the walk leaning on his crutch. ‘Don’t even bother telling me nothing’s wrong,’ he said. ‘The place is lit up like a carnival. What’s happened?’

  ‘Nothing you can help with, Pete,’ Christian said.

  ‘I’ve got a sore knee. Big deal. I’m still strong as an ox.’

  Vanessa and Christian exchanged looks. Even when he was young, Pete never had above-average strength – only a talent with tools and machinery.

  ‘Pete, we’ve had what’s probably just a peeping Tom, but we’re not sure,’ Christian told him. ‘We’re not going to call Wade because you know the cops are looking for Brody so we don’t want to distract them. I’d like to have a chance to find this guy myself, but I’m not comfortable leaving the women and kids alone. Would you stay with them while I scout around and see what – or who – I can turn up? I’d feel better and I know they would.’

  ‘Well … well, sure. A house full of young women need a man to watch over them.’ Vanessa swallowed a groan, forgiving his sexism. ‘I’d be glad to stay. I’m not one bit sleepy and I can still put up a fight, bum knee or not.’

  Vanessa knew Wade should be here – Wade with backup. But she had to give Christian one last chance to catch his brother and safely take him home, even if she knew it wasn’t the safest course of action.

  She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Christian hard on the mouth. ‘Be careful. I love you.’

  ‘Love you, too.’ Christian looked at Pete. ‘You take good care of those women.’

  Vanessa almost made a face at him, knowing he was teasing her. ‘Yes, Pete, we’ll all feel safer with you guarding us. The kids are watching TV but they’ll go back to bed in a few minutes.’

  Pete hobbled into the house. He’d never mastered the crutch and Vanessa was glad he’d only need it for two or three more days. Meanwhile, Christian turned on the flashlight and gave her a bracing smile. ‘Everything will be all right. Don’t worry about a thing.’

  But Vanessa knew the words were hollow. Christian knew there was a lot to worry about, especially if he found Brody.

  Christian circled the house although he knew no one would be lurking beside a home with lights glowing from almost every window as well as a number of outdoor lights illuminating the lawn. After one circuit, he started down the steep hill toward the beach. He didn’t take the path. If someone were hiding, they wouldn’t place themselves in plain view on the path. He poked through knee-high brush, angled past scrub pines and slid on mossy spots growing under foliage. He aimed the flashlight at the ground, not wanting to shine it all around him and announce his presence. A breeze blew in the smell of ocean water and a full moon shone with cold, silvery light, making the beach look unreal and eerie.

  The peeping Tom could have run down the hill in front of Everly House, but Christian felt he wouldn’t have gone in that direction because of the lights illuminating most of the hill. I’d run for the beach, Christian thought. No one would be likely to navigate the cliff to chase me. He paused. What was really driving him toward the beach? Brody’s love of it, especially at night. He was certain, after all, that he was searching for his brother.

  When they were young, they’d spent hours walking on the beach, trying to get tans without looking like they were tanning, exploring the Seraphim May. Their bond wasn’t linked only to the ocean, though. Their father used to charter boats to take the boys fishing on the Columbia River and although neither Christian nor Brody excelled at the sport, they always had a good time.

  Christian wondered as he trudged along, discreet
ly flashing around his mechanical beam, how long had it been since he and Brody had walked on the beach together? Three years? No, longer. Five years. It had been a warm, crystalline afternoon and Brody was happy until he’d seen some people he’d graduated from high school with. Most had turned their heads, refusing to acknowledge him, and the word lunatic floated from the group. Brody had nearly run from the beach and didn’t leave their house for two days until he returned to Portland.

  A mist was rolling in and Christian stopped. This walk on the beach was accomplishing nothing except stirring up memories. He wanted to bellow ‘Brody!’ but it would only alert the few people he had seen on the beach that Brody Montgomery was near the ocean. He looked at the luminous dial on his watch: 12:45. Vanessa had called him at 11:20. Sammy saw the peeping Tom around 11:10. If Brody had been around then, he was long gone, tucked away in a hiding place Wade and the other cops hadn’t found.

  Reluctantly, Christian turned around and began walking back toward the path up the hill. The wreck of the Seraphim May lay ahead of him, but he knew without looking that Brody wouldn’t hide inside it. Although he would never admit it, Christian knew something about the wreck had always made Brody uneasy. When he was off his meds, Brody tended to be paranoid. He wouldn’t take refuge in a crumbling wreck that had caused him anxiety even before he got sick. Christian dismissed the shipwreck and looked at the towering rock formation jutting out of the sand not far from the Seraphim May. He remembered that Vanessa used to say it should have been in Lord of the Rings with its ominous jagged edges pointing to the sky. He smiled, thinking of what a vivid imagination she’d always possessed.

  Then he heard it: a soft groan. He slowed his pace. There it was again. He squinted through the mist but saw nothing. Still, he knew he had heard something. Something that sounded like a man. It could have been Brody.

  He walked to the rock and looked around it at the side that faced the ocean. There huddled a man, his knees drawn to his abdomen, his face turned to the sand. Christian kneeled and peered at him, then gently turned his face just enough so he could identify him. His jaw jutted unnaturally to the right, blood ran from his mouth, and his eyes were closed, but Christian knew without a doubt he was looking at Max Newman.