Deep Waters (30 page)

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It's easy to see the reflections in the water. The difficulty lies in recognizing the truth when it appears there.

—“On the Way of Water,” from the journal of Hayden Stone

Charity didn't see Elias waiting in the shadows of her front porch as she brought her car to a halt in the drive and switched off the engine.

She was fumbling with her keys, her mind on the scene on the town hall steps a short while earlier, when she realized she was not alone.

Elias glided out of the shadows into the weak glare of the porch light. If he hadn't moved, she would never have seen him at all. Her keys flew out of her hand as she started in surprise.

“Elias.”

He caught the keys with a casual, precise movement. “Sorry.”

“Good grief, you scared me half to death.” She
snatched her keys from his fingers and stalked to her door. “What are you doing sneaking around my house?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Too bad you didn't hang around the town hall steps, instead.” She shoved the key into the lock. “You missed quite a scene.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, just the usual—a nasty little skirmish between me and the mayor.” Charity opened the door. “She won.”

Elias followed her into the house. “How?”

“A one-two punch. First she accused me of sleeping with you in order to influence your decisions about the future of Crazy Otis Landing. And then she socked me with the news that my efforts at seduction were wasted. Apparently, you're just too darn clever for me to handle. According to Phyllis, you're using me.”

“In what way?”

“She believes that you're amusing yourself with me while you bide your time waiting to carry out your nefarious plans for the pier.” The toe of Charity's shoe brushed against an object lying on the floor. “What in the world?”

She groped for the hall switch, flipped it on, and glanced down. A medium-sized brown envelope lay on the floor.

“I'll get it.” Elias scooped it up and handed it to her. “Someone must have shoved it under your door while you were out this evening.”

She frowned at the sealed envelope. There was no address or name on the outside. “How long have you been waiting on my front porch?”

“About half an hour. Whoever left that for you must have come by before I got here.”

“Which brings up an interesting question. Why are you here?” Charity started to unseal the envelope.

“To tell you that I've decided you're right. I've been thinking about it all day. I'm going to Seattle tomorrow to see Garrick Keyworth.”

The bleak determination in his voice shocked her. Charity dropped the unopened envelope on the hall table and turned toward him. “Are you sure that's what you want to do?”

He was motionless in the open doorway, his face an unreadable mask. “I doubt if it will do either me or Keyworth any good, but I can't think of any other way to handle it.”

Charity went to him, wrapped her arms around him, pressed herself against him. “Neither can I.”

For a few seconds he stood, rigid and unyielding in her embrace. Then, with a wordless groan, he locked his arms around her.

“Something's happening to me, Charity. My training, my philosophy. The things I've used to keep myself centered since I was sixteen. They're all starting to fade in and out. It's like watching lousy reception on TV.”

“I think you've probably been going through some of the same things Crazy Otis did after Hayden died.”

Elias gave a hoarse laugh that held no trace of humor. “Maybe we should rename the pier after all. Call it Crazy Elias Landing.”

“The situation with Keyworth didn't help matters, that's for sure. It was too much on top of Hayden's death. The thing with Keyworth was unresolved, and now it's come back to haunt you.”

“Complete with ghosts.” He tightened his hold on her. “Damn, I wish I could talk to Hayden one last time.”

“What do you think he would tell you?”

Elias was silent for a long while. “To study the reflections in clear water. Water that was not distorted with images of the past.”

“Do you understand what that means? Because I'm not sure I do.”

“I think it means I have to see Keyworth one more time.”

“I'll go with you.”

“To Seattle? No. I appreciate the offer, but I have to do this alone.”

“I know. But I can drive into the city with you. Davis said something about being out of town on business this week, but I'll do lunch with my sister while you're busy with Keyworth.”

“I'm not going to argue.” He hesitated. “I've got to tell you, Charity, lately, sometimes you're the only thing that feels real to me.”

A shiver of deep uncertainty chilled her to the core. She hugged Elias with all her strength, but the warmth of his body did not banish the cold sensation his words had created within her.

If Elias was drawn to her only because the passion they generated between them was powerful enough to cut through the mists of his melancholy, what would happen when those same mists lifted? she wondered.

She could only hope that he would learn to love her once he no longer needed her. Because she suddenly understood with blinding clarity that she was in love with him.

She raised her lips to his.

Elias claimed her mouth with a sensual hunger that was powerful enough to drive out the doubt and the fear. At least for a while.

An hour later, Elias roused himself from the sweet lethargy imposed by sexual satisfaction. He shifted on
the soft mattress, rolled onto his back, and looked up at the bedroom ceiling. Beside him, Charity snuggled, warm and soft and wonderfully curved.

It was amazing how things were beginning to seem more solid and real now that he had made up his mind to talk to Keyworth. He had no idea what he would say to his old nemesis, but the decision to see him was the right one. It had to be done. Elias knew that he owed Charity, not Tal Kek Chara for that insight.

He also knew he had reached a turning point of some kind. He was reluctant to explore all of the ramifications. But there was no getting around the fact that this decision to see Keyworth was a radical departure from his usual path. It was the first time since he had been a teenager that he had consciously selected a crucial course of action without consulting his philosophy and training.

It was a dangerous move. It left him feeling vulnerable.

He had known from the beginning that Charity represented a threat to his carefully structured, self-contained world, but he had recklessly pursued the relationship. Now it was too late to turn aside.

“Elias?”

“I'm here.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I guess I never did get around to dinner.”

“Me, either.” Charity sat up amid the rumpled sheets. “I was too busy plotting ways to defend the pier against Phyllis and the council.”

“I was occupied buying beers for the three musketeers who rescued me. By the way, Newlin wants me to teach him about Tal Kek Chara. I gather you put that notion into his head.”

“It was his own idea. Do you mind?”

He thought about it. “No, but I don't know if I
can teach the Way to someone else. I've always been the student.”

“Every teacher was once a student. I would think that teaching others would be a continuous learning process for an instructor. At least it would be for a good instructor.”

“Hayden used to say that student and teacher reflect each other in the way that water reflects moving light. The images are forever shifting, never quite the same but always there.”

“That sounds like Hayden. Nice and cryptic. Want a snack? No competitive cooking. Just a peanut butter sandwich or something?”

He admired the pale sheen of moonlight on the elegant slope of her breast. Lazily he stretched out a hand and touched her nipple. It hardened into a tight bud beneath his finger. “Or something.” He slid his palm down to her waist and then moved it lower.

“Enough with the lechery, already.” She batted at his questing hand. “Time to eat.”

“Your wish is my command.” He tumbled her back down on the bed and made a place for himself between her thighs.

“For heaven's sake, Elias. How can you think of this and peanut butter sandwiches at the same time?”

“A man has to get his nourishment where he can.” He kissed the inside of her thigh and inhaled the intoxicating scent that flooded his senses.

She gasped and clutched at his hair. “I think this may be getting a little kinky.”

“It would only qualify as kinky if we actually brought the peanut butter into bed with us.”

“You're sure?”

“I'm sure.” He took her delicate little clitoris between his lips. It grew firm and plump and taut. The taste of her was incredible.

“Elias.”

“Better than peanut butter.”

“Okay, okay, you win.” She sounded suddenly breathless. “But we take a shower before we make the sandwiches.”

“If you insist.”

Forty-five minutes later, freshly showered and garbed in a white terry cloth robe, Charity stood at the kitchen counter and sawed through the center of a stack of peanut butter sandwiches.

“Ready in here, Elias.”

“I'm on my way.” His voice came from the hall.

“You know, I'm never going to look at a jar of peanut butter in quite the same way again.”

“Me, either.” He appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was wearing his shirt unbuttoned over his jeans. He had used his fingers to comb his shower-damp hair straight back off his high forehead. His eyes slid possessively over her. “You sure know how to whet a man's appetite.”

“Sit down before you slip on your own drool.”

“Good idea.” He waved the brown envelope at her as he walked to the table. “Did you forget this?”

“Guess I got distracted.” She carried two plates laden with sandwiches to the table near the window. “Go ahead and open it. I've got peanut butter on my fingers.”

“I could lick it off for you,” he offered earnestly.

She gave him an eloquent glance. “Open the envelope.”

“Spoilsport.” He sat down, ripped open the envelope flap, and glanced inside. “Looks like photos. Polaroids.”

“Really?” Charity went back to the sink to rinse
her fingers under the faucet. “Who would put a bunch of pictures under my door? Is there a note?”

“I don't see one.” Elias turned the envelope upside down and dumped the photos onto the table. “No note. Maybe someone from the pier took these and thought you'd like to see them.” He paused briefly. “On second thought, cancel that theory.”

Charity dried her hands on a kitchen towel. “What's wrong?”

He sat back in his chair and gestured toward the three pictures scattered on the table. “See for yourself.”

Curious, she walked to the table and glanced at the shots.

They weren't very clear. The scene was blurred in the background. The color was off, and the composition was amateurish. She frowned, uncertain at first of just what she was looking at.

Then the image of a woman spread-eagled on a bed registered.

The woman's blond hair was fanned out on a pillow. Her ankles and wrists were bound to the bed with what appeared to be handcuffs. She was clad only in crotchless leather panties and a leather brassiere with holes cut out to reveal puckered nipples. A massive dildo lay between the woman's legs. An object that looked like a riding crop was positioned on the bed beside her.

“Oh, my God,” Charity whispered, horrified. “It's Phyllis Dartmoor.”

Fifteen minutes later Elias wolfed down the last peanut butter sandwich. He hadn't realized he was so hungry. He brushed the crumbs from his hands and looked wistfully at the empty plate. He'd eaten all but one of the sandwiches.

He realized he felt better than he had all day.

Nothing had changed. He still had Keyworth to face. But the decision to go back to Seattle to deal with the situation had made things clearer.

And sex with Charity had done wonders for his sense of reality.

Charity, however, looked very troubled. Her mood was beginning to worry him. She was still nibbling on the first half of the sandwich she had started fifteen minutes ago. Her eyes kept straying to the brown envelope on the table beside her. She had shoveled the photos of Phyllis Dartmoor back inside as soon as she had realized what she was looking at, but it was obvious her mind was still on the pictures.

Elias lounged in his chair, shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, and stuck his legs straight out under the table. “What are you going to do about those photos?”

Charity sighed. “Give them to Phyllis, I suppose. I don't know what else to do with them.” She met his eyes. “Who could have left them under my door? And why?”

Elias considered briefly. “There's a limited market for that sort of thing. It's no secret that you and Phyllis have been feuding for the past few months. Maybe someone wanted to give you some ammunition to use against her.”