Skinbound (8 page)

Darcy took her foot from him and pulled it close to her eyes. A tiny silver dash, barely visible, caught the light.

“Oh my God! I see it!” She tugged her foot until it almost touched her nose.

“You’ll find a near-identical scar on your sister’s left foot. I’ll never know how you kids merged like that.”

“So, I guess you performed the operation?” Why hadn’t Gigi or her parents ever shared this story with her?

“I wouldn’t call it an operation. I just took my scalpel and sliced through the seam, separating the skin-tag. Neither of you even bled. The trouble is, anytime a doctor uses his scalpel inside a hospital, it’s considered surgery. I didn’t tell a soul, not even your parents. It wouldn’t be right for them to shell out for another ‘surgery’ in addition to the hefty fee for the caesarian. So, I just kept quiet. Until now. I guess after thirty years, it doesn’t matter. Interesting stories need to be told.” His eyes twinkled. “What do you think about all that?”

She traced her neckline with her fingers, unable to produce a coherent thought. “It… is a lot to take in.”

“Lorne, dear, go wash your hands,” Rebecca Creighton snarled.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur as Darcy let the strange news of her birth sink in. Could that have anything to do with the doll curse protecting Scarlett? She inwardly shook her head. That would be ridiculous. It was just a legend after all. Grateful when Cabin stood and announced it was time to leave, Darcy robotically said her goodbyes.

“Are you all right?” he asked after they drove for several moments in silence.

Darcy stopped her subconscious stroking of Lucy’s fur, and snapped her focus to Cabin. “Fine.” She forced a smile. “Thank you for the lovely evening.”

They arrived at her house, and Cabin unbuckled his seatbelt.

“It’s okay.” Darcy stopped him. “You don’t need to walk me to the door.” She’d had a long evening and needed to be alone to mull over the revelation from Cabin’s father.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. Goodnight.” He gave her hand a light squeeze. “I’ll wait until I get the all clear.”

Darcy nodded and climbed from the truck. She twisted the key in the lock and pushed the door open, turning to wave to Cabin. After his taillights disappeared, she flipped on a light and stepped inside.

She halted, letting out a gasp. Her knees nearly buckled. Someone had been in her house. And that someone had been enraged.

Furniture was overturned. The stuffing of her favorite chair spilled out from the sliced upholstery. Brown, gelatinous chunks clung to the walls and floor. Dark red smears—God, not blood, she hoped—stained the white couch cushions. Glass from broken lamps and trash from the kitchen lay scattered. A nightmare. Fishing her phone from her pocket with trembling fingers, she dialed 911 and backed from the house onto the porch, shivering despite the warm night air. The dispatcher assured her she’d send someone out immediately.

Who could have done such a thing? Why?

She expected tears, but everything inside her seized, and she was just numb. If tears were there, they refused to fall.

In what seemed like hours, she heard sirens. The sheriff’s cruiser pulled to a stop in her driveway. He climbed out of the vehicle and lumbered toward her.

“Are you all right, Darcy?” His face scrunched with concern.

She nodded, unable to speak, and pointed to her front door. He offered a soothing pat to her arm. “You stay out here. I’ll go take a look.”

The sheriff disappeared inside. His curses carried to where Darcy stood on the porch.

She turned at the sound of another vehicle, relief flooding her. Cabin’s truck. Almost before it came to a complete stop, he bailed out, standing by her side in a matter of seconds.

He took hold of her arms, his gaze searching her face. “What happened? I saw the sheriff heading this way and I had a feeling…” He took in a deep breath and released it. “Are you okay?”

She opened her mouth to speak. Her lip quivered, and the pent up tears fell. Cabin drew her into his arms, murmuring gentle words and stroking her back. Somehow, face pressed against his chest, she managed to tell him what happened. His body tensed, but he continued to comfort her.

The sheriff came out, shaking his head. “Scumbags. I’ll get some fingerprints and we’ll do what we can. You ask me, there’s too much meanness going on around here lately. Never did find that Malcolm fellow, but I’d damned sure like to have a chat with him.”

Darcy stared, eyes bulging, as Sheriff Watkins wiped a gloppy red substance from his fingers onto his handkerchief.

He caught her gaze and chuckled lightly. “Meat loaf,” he explained, sniffing the handkerchief, then holding it out to her. “Seems as if the weirdo raided your fridge and flung leftovers all over the place.”

“Darcy? Dear God, what happened?”

Scarlett’s strident voice cut through the air. Darcy stepped out of Cabin’s embrace and waited as her sister rushed up onto the porch. Scarlett pulled her in for a tight hug. “What’s the matter? What’s going on?”

Already weary of explaining, Darcy once more recounted what happened.

“Malcolm,” Scarlett bit out. “He’s never going to stop. This is my fault.”

A part of Darcy wanted to agree, to blame Scarlett for leading a maniac to her town—to her
home
.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered.

Chapter Six

Although Darcy would never admit it, she was more than a little disappointed when nap time rolled around and she hadn’t heard from Cabin. She slid off her shoes, then padded between the small mats in her sock-feet, bending to rub a restless child’s back, or smooth a bunched blanket, mindful of where she was positioning her derriere.

She folded her legs beneath her on the colorful area rug and hugged a stuffed bear to her chest. The second hand ticked steadily, competing with the soft lullaby that cooed through the portable CD player. She turned her gaze to the wall clock across the dimly lit room.
So this is what eleven-fifteen feels like when you’re thirty
, she mused.
Exactly as it felt at twenty-nine
.

Cabin hadn’t called to wish her happy birthday. They’d spoken every morning since the ransacking of her home. Sometimes he’d call, other times her. But today…on her birthday…it seemed that he should take the initiative.

Darcy pulled her phone from the pocket of her skirt. Maybe he’d called during pantomime-time, when she was buzzing around the room like a bumble bee, and she’d missed the vibration. No missed calls. She slid the phone back into her pocket.

A couple of the children stirred, followed by a few more, their little internal clocks rousing them from slumber. She quietly stood, marveling at the way their sleeping minds could retain a schedule. It was amazing how the brain responded to steadfast behavior such as consistent meals, consistent rest…

…or in your case, Darcy, consistent rejection
.

She reeled, shocked by the intrusive thought. Was
that
the catalyst behind this despair she’d plunged into? Not the fear of a milestone birthday, or even the fear of a psychopathic intruder, but the fear of being rejected by Cabin?

Sick of her own ponderings, she forwarded the CD to an annoyingly upbeat song and danced the children from their mats. She initiated a brief, giggly pillow fight before reading the class a short book, then lining them up for lunch.

****

After lunch and recess, Darcy led her class from the playground, through the green double doors, and into the main hallway. “Go to the restroom, wash your hands, then form a line at the water fountain, please,” she called, her voice lost in the excited babble of sweaty children. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched them interact with one another, connecting in that special childhood guild that she seemed to have missed out on while stumbling in the darkness of her sister’s shadow.

Almost ten minutes later—following three separate roundup trips into the girls’ restroom, one into the boys’, and a struggle with a clogged drinking fountain that splashed a water-blotch on her new periwinkle top—Darcy marched her students up the hall to her classroom.

She squinted ahead—it looked as if Liz ducked into Darcy’s doorway instead of her own. Darcy reached into the pocket of her skirt and wrapped her fingers around her classroom key. Her room was locked tight. Liz must’ve been entering her own classroom next door. Darcy just misjudged the distance. She could’ve sworn Liz made eye contact before dodging out of sight, yet hadn’t so much as waved.

Dread swallowed Darcy like quicksand. First Cabin had forgotten her birthday, and now Liz? Something was definitely off kilter.

She lined the children against the wall and slid her key into the lock, peering through the small window in the door. The room was dark. She was positive she’d left the SpongeBob SquarePants lamp on…

She swung the door open and flipped on the lights.

“Surprise!” A chorus of excited voices shouted. She jumped so hard her knees nearly gave way.

“Easy, now. Are you okay?” Cabin placed a hand on her waist to steady her. Liz jumped up and down and squealed, along with the twenty students she’d hidden under the desks. Darcy’s class ran in behind her, happy to join in the celebration with their friends from next door.

“I can’t believe it!” Darcy gasped, grabbing her chest, her heart soaring to the ceiling along with the helium filled birthday balloons. “This is incredible—but my door was locked. How’d you get in?”

“Secretary Tangelero, and her trusty master-key.” Cabin winked.

“You thought we’d forgotten, didn’t you?” The corners of Liz’s mouth were practically meeting at the back of her head. “This was Cabin’s idea. It took all I had to keep my mouth shut all week. I knew if I spent more than two seconds around you today, I’d blow it.” She hugged Darcy, squeezing Cabin out of the way. “Happy birthday, girlfriend.”

“I’m amazed.” Darcy’s gaze swept the room again, taking it all in. The kids were having a great time swatting at the green and purple streamers and jumping up to try and capture floating balloons. She turned her misting eyes to Cabin. “Thank you so much.” He pulled her close, and she rested her head against his broad chest. “This is the best birthday party I’ve ever had,” she whispered into his cotton shirt.

“That’s what I was hoping for,” he said, stroking her hair. “I wanted it to be special and unique because
you
are special and unique. And I didn’t want you to have to share your birthday party with anyone.”

Darcy looked around the room at the forty wound-up children crammed into the smallish classroom before turning her gaze back to him.

“Let me clarify. By anyone, I mean Scarlett,” he said. They both laughed, then Cabin kissed her cheek.

“
Ooooh
!” childish voices teased.

“They don’t miss much, do they?” Cabin asked.

“Nope. They don’t miss a thing.” She pointed to Liz’s student, Billy, busy poking his finger into her birthday cake.

“Aww, come on, buddy, don’t do that.” Cabin scooped up the little boy who’d scored a finger full of icing, and tickled him. “Hey, I know you—I’d recognize that smile anywhere—we met last time I was here.” Billy giggled and stuck his tongue through the gap in his teeth. “Why don’t we sing Happy Birthday to Ms. Vaughan, then you can help me cut this thing?”

Cabin slid a disposable lighter from his pocket and lit the single birthday candle in the center of the cake.

“He didn’t want to burn the school down,” Liz jibed, elbowing Darcy in the ribs.

“Okay, folks, gather ’round. Please step forth, Ms. Vaughan.” Cabin motioned for her to come, then positioned her behind the cake table, circling his arm around her waist. He and Liz led the children in the happy birthday song, and when they’d finished, Cabin asked her to make a wish.

Darcy wished for the moment to never end, closed her eyes and blew.

As the applause died down, Cabin grabbed a plastic knife from the table and handed it to Billy, then helped him guide it around Darcy’s frosted name. “Please give this piece to Ms. Vaughan,” he said, placing a plastic fork on the plate.

Darcy accepted the cake from Billy, thanked him, and took a bite. “Delicious!” She gushed, prompting another round of applause from the children, who hopped like crickets around the table, begging for their own pieces of chocolate cake. Liz picked up the knife and began carving the cake into small pieces.

“You know what goes great with cake?” Cabin asked. “Ice cream.”

“Yes, I agree.” Darcy nodded, scanning the table for ice cream, not finding any.

“I
really love
ice cream. Don’t you?”

“Yes, I like ice cream...” She quirked her lips, wondering what he was getting at.

“Good. Come with me to the ice cream social in Redbud Park next Sunday afternoon.”

She looked into his twinkling blue eyes. “Will they have pistachio?”

“Of course. Even if I have to shell them myself and toss them in.”

She grinned and wiped the icing from her solitary birthday candle.

“So…is it a date?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s a date.”

He squeezed her waist, drawing her closer to him and pecked her cheek again. Remarkably, the kids were too absorbed in their cake to notice.

“
Ooooh! Ms. Vaughan’s in looove
!” This time, Liz did the taunting.

****

The surprise party had worked a miracle on Darcy’s spirits. She no longer dreaded the evening of “birthday bonding” she’d promised her sister. In fact, on the drive home, she was almost looking forward to it. The two of them were going out for dinner and drinks in Oklahoma City. Scarlett already knew all of the hot spots, and seemed excited to introduce Darcy to some of her coworkers. Darcy glanced at Scarlett’s house as she pulled into the driveway. The Benz was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she’d have time to soak in the tub for a bit.

After a warm bath, Darcy dolled herself up a little more than usual. She knew before the end of the evening, she would just end up shrouded in Scarlett’s shadow. An extra dose of mascara might make her feel better about it.