The Amber Stone (18 page)

Sean looked at her for a long moment then frowned. “That’s a dumb story. Tell me another one.”

Teresa widened her eyes. “It’s the truth.”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

“If you think Louisa has looks, just you wait until you meet Olivia.”

“So you’re calling me a liar, then?”

“I never said that.”

“I say you’re beautiful and you don’t believe me. Maybe you have a hard time believing an ugly man like me?” he said stroking his beard.

“You’re not ugly.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have a mess of curls.”

“Actually, I hadn’t noticed,” Teresa said with mock innocence.

“Well, at school the girls loved to pull my hair.”

“Why?”

He stared up at her. “To make sure I wasn’t wearing a wig. Another girl said she loved to see how my hair bounced back. So one day I shaved it all off. Do you know what my mother did?”

“She cried.”

“No, she laughed so hard she hiccupped. When my dad saw me he laughed ‘til tears streamed down his face. Only my little sister cried. I never did it again.”

“When did you grow the beard?”

“When I got tired of shaving. Now tell me something else about you. When did you know you had a gift?”

“You’ll think it’s silly.”

“No, I won’t.”

“I first heard about the gift from the stories my father used to tell us about our ancestors. It’s believed that we descended from people who came fully formed from the insides of a petrified tree when the God of Whispers cried because no one could hear his voice.

“So our lineage always had a special connection to nature, destined to use our talents to honor him. My sister Jessie and cousin BJ have an affinity with stones, while from an early age I knew that herbs and healing was my calling. Sensing people’s pain and visions came in my teens. But I can’t read minds or anything,” she quickly added, not wanting to worry him. “It’s just that, at times, I can sense a person’s greatest pain and I might see a vision. But I have to be on the right energy wavelength and it doesn’t work with everyone and—”

He placed a finger against her lips. “Relax, your gift doesn’t scare me.”

Teresa smiled feeling a warm glow fill her. “I’m glad and your gift doesn’t scare me either.”

He stiffened. “My gift couldn’t save Chloe.”

“And I couldn’t save my parents or my friend Bess,” Teresa said with feeling. “Some people think I murdered her,” she said, then her mouth went dry as fear and despair swirled inside her. She hadn’t meant to share that and didn’t want to ruin the connection they had. What would he think of her now? “I mean—”

Sean cupped her cheek, his fingers warm and strong against her skin, and she felt her anxiety ebb, as her fear and despair disappeared. “I know,” he said, smoothing back her hair. He held her gaze. “Okay?”

She nodded, amazed by how much his touch calmed her. How safe she felt when only seconds ago she felt frightened. He had the handler’s gift; he’d never let her fall apart. She knew he was the man for her even if he didn’t know it yet.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

“No.”

He pushed back the sheets and grabbed a robe from his closet. “I want to show you something. Wait here,” he said, then disappeared. He came back moments later, sat on her side of the bed and held a picture out to her. His hand shook, but Teresa pretended not to notice. She took the photograph from him and stared down at a little girl, sitting in a wheelchair outside of a hospital holding a large brown teddy bear and wearing a big smile.

“She died a week after this picture,” Sean said.

“And lived every day with joy.” Teresa waved at the picture. “Hi, Chloe. It’s nice to meet you. I’m a friend of your daddy. What was that?” She brought the picture close to her ear then shook her head. “I don’t know.” She looked at Sean. “She wants to know if you’re going to keep being sad?”

He rested his hands on his knees and hung his head. He didn’t move, but she saw a tear fall. She touched his arm.

“She was my life, my heart, my everything,” he said quietly.

Tears welled in her eyes as she felt his pain and remembered burying her parents and Bess. “And that’s too much for a little girl to bear.”

“I know.”

Teresa gently rested the photo on his lap. “Is Daddy ready to be happy now?”

Sean lifted the photo and traced a finger over the little girl’s face. He took a deep breath then nodded and Teresa felt the weight of his sorrow dissipate, replaced with memories of love.

“What should I tell them?” Teresa asked as she sat in Sean’s truck outside of her Uncle’s house.

Sean frowned at the house. “How much longer are you planning to stay here?”

His question surprised her and reminded her of a similar conversation she’d had with Michelle. Her sister had lost her temper when Teresa finally admitted that Aunt Margaret had disappeared, and then threatened to pull up the garden Teresa used to tend. They reached a compromise when Teresa agreed to come over every other weekend, but hadn’t agreed to anything more.

“Uncle Darren told me that some of the guys at the Valley Ray factory have been giving him a hard time because I don’t sell their products.”

He shook his head. “That wasn’t my question.”

“And he told me how much the rent I give him has helped them and—”

Sean shook his head again. “Still not my question.”

“Another couple of weeks.”

“Make sure it’s no more than that.”

“I thought you liked them.”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I’d live with them,” he said, getting out of the truck.

Teresa followed him. “What are you doing?” she asked, hurrying after him as he marched to the door.

“Making sure you get home safely,” he said, then pounded on the door.

Teresa grabbed his arm, frantic. “What are you doing? Are you trying to wake the whole house? Uncle Darren sleeps late on the weekends and Louisa—”

“I know,” he said in a tight voice, then pounded harder.

“Wait,” Teresa said, looking through her mini handbag. “I have a key.”

Louisa swung the door open before she could reach it. She squinted at them and swore. “What the hell is your problem?”

Darren came up behind her, holding his head. “Sean, what brings you here?”

Sean motioned to Teresa. “I’m bringing her home. I know how worried you two were.”

Darren had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “I knew she’d be okay. She’s a big girl.”

“Everyone knows that,” Louisa said then laughed as if she’d made a clever joke and expected everyone to join in.

But Sean didn’t laugh, he didn’t smile, he didn’t even move. He fixed Louisa with a look of such icy contempt, Teresa inwardly shivered. “You think what you did last night was funny?” he said.

Louisa’s smile slipped. “I just—”

He narrowed his eyes. “Did that sound like a question I expected you to answer?”

She closed her mouth.

He held up a finger. “Just once. I’m going to let this pass just once, but if you do something like this again you won’t be the one laughing.”

He shifted his gaze to Darren. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said then squeezed Teresa’s arm before he turned and left.

To Teresa’s relief, Louisa didn’t ask her any questions about where she’d disappeared to after the party. Neither did Uncle Darren, who spoke to her a couple days later only to tell her one thing.

“You’re going with us to church this Sunday.”

“But I’m not Catholic.”

“It’s Easter, God will forgive you.”

***

Teresa ended up at church that Easter Sunday and fought desperately to keep her eyes open. Twice she had to nudge Darren to keep him awake because he began to snore. Asking her to attend church with them was only one of the strange changes he’d developed over the past couple of days. He’d also dropped her rent considerably and told her that Aunt Margaret would be returning soon, although she wasn’t sure she believed him.

She nearly burst into tears of joy when the ceremony was over. She was heading eagerly towards the exit when someone familiar caught her eye. She’d never seen Sean in a suit and the sight surprised her, as did the dark sunglasses.

“Sean,” she called out to him.

He spun around and waited for her to catch up to him, but he had a guarded expression. She hesitated, wondering how to approach him. Did he regret the other night? Should she mention their time together or pretend that it hadn’t happened? Her weary expression stared back at her in the reflection of his dark lens. “Would you like to come over for dinner?” she asked, feeling that was a safe topic.

“I can’t.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

She could see that they were red. “Are you okay?”

He shoved his sunglasses back on. “I just need a couple of days, okay?”

She swallowed her disappointment. He wanted to be alone again. “Okay.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. “No, it’s not,” he said, then bent down and kissed her. “But I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered against her lips before he turned and got in his truck.

“Wow, I didn’t expect to see him here,” Darren said, watching Sean’s truck drive away.

“I’m sure he could say the same about you,” Teresa said.

“No, I show my face at the appropriate times. But Sean hasn’t entered a church since his wife died.”

Teresa turned to him stunned. “She died? I thought she left him.”

“No, he won’t talk about it so I don’t suggest you bring it up. It still hurts him. But he’s getting better. When I met him he was a mess.”

“He still drinks,” Teresa said softly, imagining him trying to drown the pain of losing both his wife and daughter.

“Of course he drinks. Any healthy man drinks.”

“I mean heavily.”

“Sean? No.”

“Then why the hangovers?”

Darren frowned. “He doesn’t suffer from hangovers.”

She wondered if he was being purposefully dense. “At times his eyes give him away.”

“Oh that.”

“Yes, that.”

Darren seemed to hesitate. “He’s a private man. I don’t think it’s my place to give out a man’s secrets.”

“Fine.” She’d wiggle that bit of information out of Bertha.

***

Unfortunately, Bertha proved to be just as tough to persuade.

“If he hasn’t told you, then it’s none of your business,” she said clearing up the tea cups.

Teresa followed her into the kitchen. “I just want to know.”

Bertha sent her a long, measuring look. “Why?”

“You know why.”

Bertha released a heavy sigh and returned to the dining table and sat down. “He worries me,” she said running her finger over the sparkling sheen of the recently polished table. “I’m not sure you’re strong enough to help him carry the weight of his sorrow. He may never recover fully from it.”

“I am. He told me about his daughter.”

“But not his wife.”

“Telling me about his daughter was hard enough.” Teresa gripped her hands together. “You should have seen him.”

“You’re making excuses.”

Teresa’s gaze flashed with warning of the temper she kept in control. “I’m telling you what I know,” she said in a curt tone.

“Because you slept with him? You think being in his arms means you know him?”

She spun away.

“Don’t you turn your back to me,” Bertha demanded.

Teresa took a deep, calming breath and turned. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Have the Clifton temper,” Bertha finished with a smile. “You think I don’t know that?”

Teresa folded her arms. “I love him.”

“I know that. I also know he’s awakened something inside you and I’m glad. But what do you know about him?”

“Are you warning me away from him?”

“No, I’m asking you to mind the arrogance of your words. I’ll tell you what you know. You know how
you
feel
about him, you know
your
desire
, but do you really know his? Do you know what you’re up against?”

Teresa let her hands fall. “You’re right. He doesn’t feel the same way about me as I do him, but given time that can change and…” She let her words trail off when Bertha shook her head.

“That’s not what I’m saying. Let me tell you what I know. If you really want him, you’ll be fighting a strong force that may be more powerful than you are.”

“You mean his love for her?”

“Perhaps something even bigger than that. You have to decide if this is a battle worth fighting.”

“Battle?”

“Yes,” Bertha said her voice grim. “For something even more precious than his heart.”

***

Sean didn’t know what had possessed him to go to church that Sunday. He yanked off his tie as if it were strangling him and threw it on the bed. The closure he had expected, had prayed for hadn’t come yet. He’d grown arrogant. He should have known it wouldn’t be easy. Remembering Chloe was one thing, but forgetting his wife was something else entirely. He’d briefly thought of having a future with Teresa. He wanted a second chance. But what if he truly opened himself to her? Let her meet the real Sean Casey, instead of the mirage he’d created? What would happen if instead of seeing him as a grieving father, she saw the unrelenting, ruthless man who had made money without thinking of others? The surgeon who’d thought he was God?