Riverbend (24 page)

“What's wrong?” He leaned close to her ear, perhaps knowing that whatever the answer, it would be for his ears only.

She shrugged. “Nothing.”

He didn't say anything for a moment, his gaze on the fire. “Annie, I'm sorry I can't dance with you.”

“How did you know I wanted to?”

“Because I want it, too. I just can't.” He put his hand on the arm of his chair, with his palm down, moving it back and forth like someone petting a cat. “And I'm sorry.”

“It doesn't matter.”

He shifted slightly towards her, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, watching her with those eyes that held nothing but regret and sorrow. “It matters to me that you're hurting. I just can't do anything about it.”

She watched the fire. It was burning hot, the embers red. A log collapsed, sparking and crackling.

“There will be someone. When you least expect it,” he said.

“I don't think so.”

“Please, Annie, look at me.”

She shifted her eyes back to his face that she knew now almost as
well as she knew her son's: the way his whiskers were dark by this time of night, the dark blue circles under his eyes, the crows’ feet that spread to his hairline. And there was the square line of his jaw, the slight gray at his temples, the one dark curl that fell over his forehead until he brushed it back with the tips of his fingers.

“You're special. Sweet and smart and funny. If I weren't half a man, I would come after you. Trust me on this.”

Half a man.

Tommy ended his current song, looking up at the sky as if conjuring his next offering. The fire crackled. A breeze rustled the branches of the fir trees. And then, between those other hints of a wild country so near to the markings of civilization, came the sound of the coyote, howling woefully in the summer night.

Chapter Nineteen

BY ELEVEN,
everyone gathered their belongings and headed home. Annie and Drake waved goodbye as the cars made their way down the long driveway. Except for Ben and Bella. Ben's car was still there and neither Annie nor Drake had seen them leave the deck, but apparently at some point they had. Now, glancing towards Bella's quarters, she saw a dim light on in the bedroom above the gym, and then two shadows intertwined in an embrace before the shade was pulled down and it went dark. Had Drake seen? She stole a glance at him. His hands were stuck in his pockets and his foot kicked at the rock walkway, as if he were trying to uncover something underneath. He'd seen.

“He's a good man,” she said. “This could be something.”

“They met tonight, Annie. And she's sleeping with him?”

“You don't know that.”

He snickered. “I'm out of it but not that out of it.”

“This might just be the romantic in me, but sometimes things work out between people. Look at Tommy and Lee. And the odds were stacked against them big time.”

“Bella's not the smartest when it comes to men.”

She touched the sleeve of his shirt, holding the fabric between her fingers. “It'll be all right.”

He turned to her. “Annie.” That was it. Just her name. And a bolt of desire ran through her, swift and hard. She moved her hand away from his sleeve and looked into the yard, the stars twinkling low on the horizon between the branches of the large fir at the end of the driveway.
Just reach for me and I'll fall into you.

“Let's get your boy to bed,” he said.

“Yes.”

Once inside, Drake picked Alder up in his strong arms, carrying him to the boy's room. There, Annie took off his shorts and T-shirt and put him in his pajamas, despite his limbs that were dead weight. “Nothing wakes him up once he's asleep.”

Drake stood in the doorway, watching her. “Must be nice.”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh as she tucked a blanket around Alder. “He didn't brush his teeth,” she said, fretting, thinking of all the sugar he'd had earlier.

“One night won't be the end of him.” He moved out of the doorway so she could pass by. He smelled of the outside and wood smoke and of the remnants of his cologne.
What does his neck smell like?

“I suppose.” She yawned, turning off the light and shutting the bedroom door. “I'm so happy I don't have to work again tomorrow. I'm beat. Well, good night then.”

“Good night.” He turned towards the front room as she opened the door to her room.

“Annie,” he said, moving closer to her.

“Yeah?” She paused, resting her forehead on the doorframe.

“If you need me, just come find me.” He paused. “I mean, if the dreams are bad.”

“I will.”

In her bedroom, she shed her clothes and dressed in a pair of light pajamas. Her cell phone was blinking on the dresser. What was this? Who would call her that hadn't been there tonight? Picking it up, she saw there were a dozen missed calls. She went cold. She clicked on the phone application. And there it was. A dozen calls from a private number. It had to be him.

Shaking, she left her room, walking blindly to the front room, hoping Drake would still be awake. He was, sitting in one of the soft chairs, reading, the lamplight throwing shadows across his face. He looked up when she came in. “What happened?”

She held up her phone, as if he needed evidence. “A dozen calls. From a private number.”

He stood, tossing his book on the coffee table. “Crap.”

She held up the phone to him again. “And there are voicemails. I haven't listened to them. I'm too afraid.”

“Do you want me to do it?”

She was shaking hard now, so much so that her teeth were chattering. “Will you listen to them with me? I should hear them.”

“Why? It'll only frighten you worse.”

“I don't know. I just do.”

“Come here then. Sit with me on the couch.” He picked up a throw blanket from the back of his chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. “This will warm you up a little.”

He sat close, taking the phone and pushing the first voicemail. It was nothing but a hang-up, as were the next six calls. But on the seventh, Marco's voice came over the speaker. “Bitch, it's such a turn-on to hear your voice I just keep playing it over and over. Too bad you'll be dead before the month's out.” His voice was low and mean. She started to cry.

Drake shut the phone off with force and tossed it onto the coffee table as he scooted closer to her. “Please, sweetheart, don't listen to any of the rest. I'll listen to them for you and see if it gives us any clues to where he is. Please.” His eyes were pleading. “This does no one any good. It'll just make your nightmares that much worse.”

She nodded and whispered, “You're right.”

He reached for her hands that were clasped in her lap, covering them with his own. “Can I put you to bed? I know you're exhausted.” He turned to gaze at her face, then, with his index finger, brushed the skin just underneath her eyes. “Dark circles. No good for a woman as pretty as you.”

“You've touched me three times today.”

His mouth softened and lifted slightly at the corners. Almost a smile. “I know. It's not so hard.”

“I'm glad.”

“It's something about you.”

“What does that mean?”

“All the time I'm worried about when I'm going to get another anxiety attack. That's almost the worst part, wondering when it will come. But when I'm with you I don't think about it. I just think about you, about making sure you're all right.”

Her throat ached with unshed tears. “That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.”

He stood, holding out his hand. “Come to bed.”

She followed behind him, still holding onto his hand, until they arrived at her room. He held the door open for her. Would he leave her alone? The thought of it was almost too much to bear.
Please stay.

As if he read her thoughts, he shut the door behind them. “I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

And like the other night he'd put her to bed, he drew back the covers and she climbed in as he took his place next to her.

“Tell me something no one else knows,” she said.

He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. “When I was ten, I saw a man killed on his bicycle while crossing a busy intersection.” He said it matter-of-factly, like someone reporting the news.

She shifted so she might see him better, might be able to read his features. “How awful.”

“It was, but not as you might imagine. There was no blood or open wounds that I could see. It was merely that at one moment there was this young man on his bicycle, speeding by me, his calf muscles bulging like regular cyclists have, you know?”

“Right.”

“And I don't know if he just didn't see the truck because it was raining. You know, in Seattle it rains three hundred days a year and half those days are the downpour kind. Or if he rode into traffic on purpose. I'll never know that, of course. But yes, he just charged into the street and then the truck was there, the driver slamming on his brakes but it wasn't soon enough. He hit him and the bicycle sort of flew in the air with the rider still intact for a moment before he separated from it and crumpled to the ground. Cars came to a screeching halt. A few women screamed. The bicyclist just lay there on the ground, almost like he was asleep. I chanted in my head, get up, get up, get up. The driver stumbled out of the cab of his truck, dazed. And his face, Annie, that's something I'll never forget. The face of someone, albeit an accident, that had just killed another human being. It was almost unbearable to see and yet I couldn't look away.”

“Why didn't you tell anyone? Like your mother?”

“I don't know why. It was like this terrible secret I felt I had to keep, as if I owed it to the dead man and the trucker. I don't know. I went home afterwards on the bus. I was a latchkey kid, you know, because my mother worked after school. I sat on the bus and stared at all the passengers, thinking we're alive one moment and dead the next. It made me understand life in a whole new way, made me think for the first time about the fleeting nature of everything.” He paused, playing with the edge of the pillowcase. “My mother always said I ran deep. It's a hard way to live.”

“I understand.”

He turned his face to look at her. “I lied to you just now.”

“What?” she asked, her heart thumping.

“I did tell someone once.”

“Who?”

“My wife.”

So there it was. Finally. “What happened to her, Drake? Did she leave you?”

His eyes flickered with something she couldn't read accurately. Was it uncertainty? Pain? And then, perhaps, a decision. “She died.”

She opened her mouth to ask how but he shook his head, just a fraction of an inch in either direction, his eyes unyielding now.
Do not ask anything further. Just let it be for now.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “So very sorry.”

“Thank you.” His face relaxed. He rolled over onto his side, his face resting in the palm of his hand. “Now go to sleep. We'll deal with Marco in the morning.”

“Thank you for staying with me tonight.”

“Of course. Now close your eyes.”

She didn't want to give in to sleep, knowing the nightmares waited there behind her closed eyes. But sleep came, despite her protests.

Chapter Twenty

ALDER CAME INTO ANNIE'S ROOM
at close to ten, brushing sleep from his eyes, his thick hair sticking straight up on his head. “Morning, Mom,” he said, climbing into bed. “Something's weird.”

She felt nervous. Did he know Drake stayed with her last night? But surely he couldn't. When she'd awakened at six, briefly, Drake was no longer beside her.

“What's that?” she asked, pulling the covers up to her chin.

“Ben's badass car is still here. I thought he was staying at Linus's inn.”

Right. Ben's car. How could she explain this one?

“And there's only one explanation,” he said, tugging on the collar of his pajama shirt.

She waited, her legs stiffening under the blankets. What was he going to say? “Yeah?”

“He slept over.”

“Right.”

“But why is really the question.” He sounded like a detective from Scotland Yard, only without the accent.

“Well, that's really none of our business.”

“Mom. Really? When did that ever stop you from wondering about everything and everyone?”

She stifled a smile. Did her kid know her or what?

“Anyway,” he went on. “I believe it to be one of two reasons.”

Again, she braced herself for the inevitable. “Yes?”

“Either he stayed over to play kissy face with Bella or he was too drunk to drive home and is passed out on the deck.”

She stared at him with her mouth open. Where did he come up with these ideas?

“I'm really hoping it's the first reason. Because Ben and Bella are like so perfect for each other.”

“They are?”

“Mom. Totally. They're both the ultimate in badass.”

“Alder, please stop using that word.” She glanced towards the door, as if Drake stood there. “Ask Drake to teach you an appropriate word that captures the essence of whatever it is you actually mean.”

“Mom, that word does capture the essence of what I really mean. Anyway, my point is this. Depending on which one it is will determine Bella's fate.”

“Her fate?”

“Yeah, like he either chose to get drunk and act totally lame. I know about this because Lila at school—the one that's so pretty with the blond ponytail?”

“Right.”

“Well, her dad gets drunk a lot and does stuff that makes Lila's mom cry. She tells me all about it at recess sometimes and I have to hold her hand and stuff to make her feel better.”

“You do?”

What else didn't she know about her son's life?

“Yeah. I'm totally crazy about her.”

“You are?”

He went on, as if she hadn't asked a question. “So here's what I'm thinking. If he did that then Bella would not have liked him enough to play kissy face. Therefore…” He paused dramatically.

Therefore?

“He will have blown it forever. But if he was nice to her and danced with her into the night, then it means they're meant to be. You follow me, Mom?”

She sighed and chuckled at the same time. “They danced all night, Alder. And I really hope you're right.”