Love Bite (Just One Bite #1) (3 page)

“Since that
day,” Lizbeth spoke once more, “I've lived on the streets. On nicer days I
slept on the beach, and when I got cold I just walked until I warmed up, and then
slept wherever I ended up. After a few weeks of this I found an area I was
comfortable with and made that my 'spot'. Unfortunately, I went through a
difficult... situation... and had to drift away from a location I had gotten
comfortable in and move on again. The nomadic journey still kept me within the
city, and some really wonderful shop owners made sure I had plenty to eat. I
was never full, but I didn't starve after the first few weeks either. Most
people treated me like a friend in need, although there were the few who decided
to make me their pet charity.”

Lizbeth's eyes
held the pain of this memory and Diandra ignored it out of respect. She
recognized a strong, self-reliant woman inside this beaten-down body and knew
that genuine sorrow for her story, or rather the parts of her story she spoke
aloud, would be mistaken for pity- that would be intolerable for this proud
woman. She understood that Lizbeth held back out of a need to keep something of
herself
to
herself, and that was both reassuring and understandable. She
continued to sit quietly on the loveseat just listening; she was hoping Lizbeth
would feel more at ease if she related the story as if she spoke to an empty
room. Diandra excused herself to go to the kitchen. When she came back she knew
at a glance that her unhappy guest was composed at last. She busied herself
setting down an antique tea set that had belonged to her grandmother. She
poured herself and Lizbeth a cup of coffee and set out a little jar of sugar
and a pitcher of cream. On a platter in the center of the tray were croissants,
still warm from the oven and brushed with butter. Then Diandra settled back
down in the loveseat once more and gestured for Lizbeth to continue.

“Today I
followed my usual pattern. I wandered the stores downtown hoping for change or
some food. It wasn't too cold, and I was thankful for that. Nicer weather means
nicer moods from the people you hope to beg from. One man brought me a
hamburger and a bottle of water. Another gave me a handful of coins. I was
tired so I wandered to the alley where I sometimes spend the daylight hours.
It's a quiet spot- secluded. That was where I found your husband. I used a
couple quarters out of the change the one man had given me and called 911 from
a payphone around the corner.” Seeing Diandra's tears, Lizbeth quickly handed
her some tissues from the box next to her on the side table. She racked her
brain, searching for anything she could say to comfort the grieving woman. The
only thing she could do was speak the words she'd spoken way too many times in
the past, but cold comfort was better than no comfort at all. Funny- the words
came back to her so quickly from her days on the force. “I'm so sorry. I’m so
sorry for your loss.”

Once Diandra
calmed down she led Lizbeth upstairs and drew her bath. The tub was sea foam
green with clawed feet painted a brushed gold color. The toilet and sink were
the same shade of green, and lush green plants decorated the corners of the
room and the windowsill. She added some bath salts to the hot, steamy water and
the room instantly took on a jungle-like appearance that was oddly soothing.
Diandra also brought her an old bathrobe left over from when she was smaller.
It was still much too large for the thin woman, giving her a dainty doll-like
appearance, as did the lavender silk nightgown she also gave her to wear.

Once Diandra
was certain Lizbeth was sleeping soundly in one of the guest rooms upstairs she
summoned her housekeeper into the parlor. Margaret was a tiny Irish woman with
a no nonsense personality that kept the house running smoothly. She gave
Margaret the extra money from her desk drawer and a list of clothes and
personal effects to get Lizbeth started. Margaret was wonderful at guessing
sizes and she knew that task could be left in those very capable hands. It
would take some time, but she plenty to do in the meantime.

Diandra
settled into her desk chair more comfortably and started digging through the
filing cabinet in the corner. Jonah had a file on rental properties he'd
acquired over the years. All she had to do was find one that was vacant. Since
this was October, that task would be fairly simple. She found one a block away
from her home. Next she arranged a delivery of furniture to that address, as
the previous tenants had left it a mess. A cleaning crew would report first
thing tomorrow, and the furniture would be delivered that afternoon. Last on
her list was to find a job for Lizbeth. A smile started on her face, slowly at
first, and then it spread. She knew the perfect job. Thus began their strange
and wonderful friendship.

Diandra shook
off the recollections of the past to find that the service was complete.
Unwilling to disturb her, nearly all of the mourners had left the graveside,
heading either back to their homes and lives or to the reception hall. While
most people found it both comforting and convenient to hold a gathering at
their homes following a graveside service, Diandra had rented a reception hall
instead. She could not bear the thought of having all these people wandering
the house that she had shared with Jonah. She did not want so many people
invading her private space while her emotions were so raw. And, she thought,
somehow it would make it all too final. She couldn't pretend he might walk back
through the door if the memorial was in the house filled with so many memories
of their life together.

As she headed
for the gates of the quiet little cemetery where her husband's body had been
laid to rest, she gradually became aware of voices in the distance. Standing a
few feet away from the gated path were Lizbeth and Alexar. They were unaware of
her approach so she simply stopped where she was and watched them a few moments
while she gathered herself. The pair spoke quietly but urgently to each other,
Lizbeth slowly shaking her head back and forth in negation of whatever Alexar
was saying to her. It appeared to her that Lizbeth was not disagreeing but
rather expressing her uncertainty. Alexar was speaking earnestly, leaning
forward with one hand on her arm to try and make her listen.

Diandra was
almost certain Alexar was offering Lizbeth a job- after all, there was an
opening on the team now, she thought ruefully. She sighed to herself,
acknowledging with the loss and regret that Jonah would have liked Lizbeth. He
would have supported her signing on in his stead. Diandra resolved to talk her
into acceptance, guessing that her refusal was out of fear of returning to police
work.

When the pair
noticed that they had her attention, Alexar squared his shoulders and cleared
his throat. He led Lizbeth back toward the grave site. Alexar was a slim-waisted
man with thick salt and pepper hair and eyes the color of emeralds. He had a
faint, appealing accent that was hard to place. Standing beside him Lizbeth
looked more diminutive than usual, but just as capable. They both wore the same
sad expression on their faces.

Alexar took a
deep breath and began speaking stiffly, not at all his usual unflappable self.
“Diandra, my dear, today is an awful day for all of us. I know you hurt much
more than I do, but as Jonah's best friend, please believe I feel the pain of
his passing as well. There is a void that no one can fill now that he is gone.”
She knew his words were true. They had met on the job before Diandra came on
the scene, and they'd been inseparable as far back as she could remember. The
grief was evident on his face, as well as evidence of a sleepless night. She
knew that look well- her face bore the same shadows.

Taking
Lizbeth's wrist, Diandra replied, “You're right. There's so much in the future
that Jonah will miss out on. No one could fill the void, true, but there is a
spot that must be filled at work now.” Diandra patted Lizbeth's arm in support,
maintaining her grip on Lizbeth's wrist as she struggled a little to get away,
escape the conversation. “Take time to think it over. I think it's a wonderful
idea, and Jonah would have, too.” At Lizbeth's look of doubt, Diandra gave a
small laugh, light and sweet, like Christmas bells. “It's true. The opening
will require someone with a quick brain and good instincts. You've done nothing
but prove that you fit the bill these last couple weeks. Think about it. No one
is rushing you.”

Alexar
suddenly grabbed Diandra's free arm, eyes full of pleading insistence.
“Diandra, dear, won't you please reconsider taking some time away. I know Jonah
didn't make that much money, but I'm sure you have the finances to get away for
a little while. If not, I'll help you; set you up somewhere for as long as you
need to clear your head. I could work with the lawyer to settle Jonah's estate,
and I'll keep in contact with the police while you rest.” He ran an exhausted
hand down his face wiping away the tears but not the look in his eyes. She
watched his chest heave as he struggled to get a grip on himself.

Diandra shook
her head in bewilderment. “What do you mean that Jonah didn't make much money?
Maybe he got paid less than some of the others but he left quite a nest egg
behind. I used to joke with him that he could have retired the day we met. How
do you think we afforded our home if you didn't pay him well?” She laughed
again, amazed to find that laughter was even possible today.

Now it was
Alexar's turn to look puzzled. “Jonah said the money was yours, and that you
came from money. I used to tease him that if he married you for your money he
sure got lucky because he got beauty and personality, too. I don't understand.”
Seeing Diandra's confusion and distress, he quickly brushed past it to return
to his original topic, filing this new information away in the back of his
mind. “Diandra, please, take some time off. It's the best thing for you right
now.”

Through this
exchange, Lizbeth had stood silently, absorbing all the facts for later
reference. Diandra now let go of Lizbeth's arm and straightened her posture.
“No, Alexar. Running away now solves nothing, and will only make it harder to
return later. Besides, this is something I need to do on my own. I need to get
used to taking care of myself, by myself.”

Alexar started
to argue further but Lizbeth cut him off. “She's right, Alexar. Diandra is a
grown woman who knows her own mind. If she feels taking a vacation right now
would be tantamount to running away from her responsibilities then she's right.
Maybe you'd handle things differently were your positions reversed, but if this
is what Diandra needs than as her friend you must respect her wishes.”

They said
their goodbyes and left Alexar standing halfway between the gate and the grave.
He seemed a long distance away inside his own mind, and Lizbeth wondered if he
was lost in grief or concern over the financial situation of his two friends-
one living and one newly buried. She led the quiet Diandra to the waiting limo,
the one that would lead her home, away from the life she used to know and into
an uncertain future.

Two
months following Jonah's funeral and Diandra was now at the end of her first
trimester. The estate had been settled, leaving her with more wealth than she
knew what to do with. After eight weeks of doing nothing but looking through
photo albums, dealing with lawyers, and accepting condolences, she was finally
ready to break out of the cycle and do something useful. The condolences were
especially draining, as many were from people who either wanted to hear all the
lurid details behind her very private pain, or wanted affirmation that it had
happened to someone else while they were still gloriously alive. She couldn't
take any more moping around the house waiting for the next condolence call or
visit. She had a plan that she'd been building in her head for weeks now, and called
Lizbeth to help her fine-tune it.

Diandra
greeted Lizbeth at the door wearing a simple black chenille sweater and
boot-cut jeans. She was barefoot and hot pink nail polish adorned her toes. She
hugged Lizbeth and immediately started talking about her plans. “As you know,
the estate is finally settled, and I need something to do with my time, a
project to dig into. I can't be home anymore, waiting for the next call or
visit or letter. I can't sit here eating one more casserole. I need an activity,
and I think I finally found my calling. I know Alexar has given you plenty to
keep you busy, but perhaps on your next day off you could take some time to
help?” Diandra talked as she walked, leading Lizbeth towards the parlor where
they always seemed to gather now.

Lizbeth
flashed a grin as she settled into the pale pink chair where she sat the day
they met. Her eggshell linen skirt suit blended perfectly with her
surroundings, making her appear as if she belonged here. She was now a
comfortable size 8, and although she was still slender, she was muscular and
healthy. Diandra smiled to herself as she reflected on the difference that two
weeks had made. “After all that you have done for me, Dia, I think I can make
time to help you with whatever you need. What did you have in mind?” Lizbeth
asked.

“For starters,
I was up until 3 a.m. packing up Jonah's clothes. It was time to finally put
them away.” Diandra poured them some coffee as she smiled in acknowledgment of
Lizbeth's look of concern. She curled her legs up under her on the loveseat and
made herself comfortable. “I needed to do this, and I did need to do it alone.
I sorted the clothes into multiple boxes- one is full of dirty, torn, or
stained clothes to throw away, and the others are full of items to donate. Then
I separated the dress clothes from the casual and divvied them up between the
boxes as evenly as possible. I'd like to take the boxes around to the local
shelters and consignment shops and donate them. I was hoping maybe you could
help me with that. Many of these are heavy and, well...” Diandra trailed off.