The First Law of Love (33 page)

My heart responded heatedly to this question and my gaze flashed out the window, as though expecting to see Case's maroon truck pull up to the curb.
What I wouldn
'
t give for that
. I hadn't seen Case since Saturday morning in the parking lot of Stone Creek, and the puncture wounds in my heart throbbed painfully, reminding me clearly of their presence. I didn't even have to speak for Al to say gently, “I thought so.”

I bowed to Al's insistence that I leave early; he made me promise that I would take a walk, get some fresh air. He didn't mention Case again, but I drove the wrong way on Main, just so that I could put my eyes on Spicer Music. The OPEN sign invited me but I was far, far too chicken. Instead I rolled by as slowly as I dared, studying his modest little music shop, desperate to see him inside. Instead I saw only the sun refracting blindingly from the glass.

So what is between you and Case? What exactly?

Something more than I could even explain, that was all I knew for certain. Something from over a century ago and something ten times stronger now, an echo of a time before, the memory of what had once existed between us and was now dying to be acknowledged again. I closed my eyes and pictured Cole Spicer's black and white face, Cole Spicer who was long dead now; nothing could change that. Could it truly be plausible that his soul existed within Case?

Was I certifiable for even considering the possibility?

I was thinking so deeply about this that at first it didn't register that someone had parked in my reserved spot at Stone Creek. I felt a flash of annoyance that turned to a beat of pure apprehension in the next second, as I recognized Derrick Yancy's black GMC.

What the hell?

Again with the power play, taking my rightful place and forcing me to park to the side instead. He was clearly waiting for me; how long had he been here? Had he followed me from the law office? I hadn't gone straight home, instead lingering near Case's shop, which would have given Derrick time to get to Stone Creek ahead of me, if he had indeed observed me leave work. He didn't even climb out of his 4x4 as I approached; instead he watched me, his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses.

You spineless little bastard
, I thought as I neared him, keeping my chin held just a hair higher than usual.
Bring it on, buddy. I
'
ve been waiting for this
. For only a second did I waver, wanting Case to be with me right now more than ever. But then I reminded myself that I was far from spineless. That I could hold my own.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. Derrick was seated just above me in his big SUV, and I had the distinct impression he liked that I had to literally look up to him, as though he was some sort of royalty, always slightly higher than those around him. The sun was hot on my head as I refused to look away; all I could see was my own angry reflection in his sunglasses. I could feel the chill of the air conditioning blasting from the cab of his vehicle.

“I'd like to talk to you,” he said in a perfectly-modulated voice.

“Then start talking,” I said, my words clipped and just a hair over-enunciated.

“Not here,” he said. I peered behind him, into the recesses of the SUV; it was empty of anyone but him.

“If you think I'm about to go anywhere with you, you've severely underestimated my intelligence,” I told him. My hands were planted on my hips.

“I don't underestimate you at all, rest assured of that,” he said then, lifting his sunglasses from his face. His eyes made my stomach cramp – there was so much anger in them, a vicious loathing that I knew he couldn't justify even if he'd tried. I understood, as I hated him perhaps unreasonably too. He said, low and heated, “You are
fucking up
my business here. I won't have that, do you understand? You've done your little duty for Turnbull and now it's time to go home.”

“I'll go home when I'm ready,” I said, glaring at him as though attempting to pick answers from his brain. “There's still plenty of work here.” On inspiration, I leaned even closer to him, despite all instincts screaming at me to stay back, and said intently, “And I won't be scared away from here. No matter what you do.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously, though his voice was very calm as he said quietly, “Accidents happen, counselor. Whether we like it or not. Sometimes, they happen to people we care about.”

Again he'd succeeded in catching me horribly off guard. My knees turned instantly to gelatin and it took all the willpower I possessed to keep my composure. Derrick smiled then, fully understanding just how much he had rattled me, slipping his sunglasses back into place. He said lightly, speaking my name the way he would deliver an insult, “Go home, Patricia, where you belong. Do you understand me?”

He had driven smoothly away before I could manage to muster the strength to walk inside.

I said not a word to anyone of this encounter with Derrick Yancy.

He
'
s bluffing
, I told myself.
He
'
s trying to scare you, just like he sent someone to mess up your apartment while you were gone. He
'
s all talk
.

But the thought that he might be serious, that something could happen to someone I cared about, tortured my every waking thought.

I kept my head low at work on Friday; Al was worried. He reminded me at least three times that it was his birthday party this evening.

“I'll be there, don't worry,” I assured him. I adored Al, truly, even though my primary motivation for attending his birthday party was because I was certain that Case would be there, as Al had invited nearly everyone in town. I was dying to see Case, furious at him for staying away from me this week.

But my heart ached at the thought of seeing him and being unable to touch him.

Touching him may have been at the forefront of my thoughts that evening, as I showered for the second time and proceeded to get ready, and the raw, almost painful hope of him touching me in return. A week apart from Case had left me devastated and approaching desperation. Not to mention I still owed him an apology. I had stopped myself from driving out to his place over a dozen times this week, even more from calling him. I needed to tell him I was sorry in person and if he wasn't at Al's tonight, it would be a sign that I should drive out to Ridge Road after all.

I blew out my hair, letting it fall in soft curls down my back. I had lined and shadowed my eyes with extra care. Make-up accomplished, I stood before my tiny closet, agonizing. At last I settled on sweet and simple, slipping into my pale-pink bra and then a tank top a step above everyday wear, made of pretty white eyelet. It had a scalloped neckline and fitted perfectly over my breasts. With this I wore the matching panties and black linen shorts; my black strappy sandals would be perfect as a finishing touch. I fastened my diamond studs in my ears and pressed both hands to still the panicky fluttering in my gut.

What if he
'
s not there?

Oh God, Case, please be there
…

Robbie was still planning to pick me up, though he was late; it was quarter after seven, but what did I expect? Peaches came to curl around my ankles and I stooped to pet her; as I did, I heard my phone chirp with a text message. I hurried to gather it up and read the message from Robbie:
Almost to ur place
. And sure enough, I went to the kitchen window to see his BMW carefully navigating the gravel of the parking lot. I could exactly picture the wincing pain on his face at having to drive off blacktop with his prized possession.

“See you later,” I murmured to Peaches, patting her head, and then locked the door behind me, heading out to the parking lot so Robbie wouldn't feel compelled to come up to the apartment.

“Damn, baby girl,” Robbie said, leaning out his window as I approached the BMW. The evening sun was incredible, gilding everything with a rosy glow. He let his eyes rove openly over me, making a show of it, and then said, “I don't care what your dad says, I am making a play for you tonight. It would be worth it to lose all job prospects.”

“Would you quit?” I told him, opening the passenger door and settling onto the butter-soft leather. He lowered the music volume with a touch of a button on the steering wheel.

“I'm dead serious,” he said, lowering his sunglasses back into place and creeping back out towards the street. “Shit, I hate this gravel. I hate being outside civilization.”

“You are such a baby,” I said.

“Thank God it's just two more weeks. Ron's place is magnificent, at least. Just exactly what we can hope for when we're making six-plus figures in Chicago in the next decade, God willing,” he said, and I looked immediately away, out the passenger-side window, watching the rolling foothills in the warm light of the sinking sun. They were glowing as though dipped in golden gilt, the scent of sagebrush keen in the air. I breathed deeply and tried not to let the thought of that, of Chicago and its inevitable pull, cause tears to flood my eyes.

Your mascara
, I thought stupidly, trying to make a joke of it.

But it was no use.

Robbie was already blathering on about something else, but I only saw Case in my mind, flowing through all of the ways he had looked since he had reentered my life, all of the expressions on his face, the things he had said to me, the feel of his hands and mouth on my body…

I can
'
t bear this
…

“Tish, for real,” Robbie insisted. “You're in la-la land. Did you hear what I just said?”

“Sorry,” I replied at once, flustered. I looked over at him and he lowered his sunglasses to regard me with his perfect blue eyes.

“I said, I'm hoping to get laid tonight. You know of any easy girls in this area? Like, who might not have pieces of hay sticking to them?”

I knew he was just kidding around, trying to get me to laugh. I said, “Benson, if you need my help to get laid, then you're way out of practice. Be nice. Make conversation. People around here aren't the rednecks you think they are.”

Robbie replaced his sunglasses and muttered, “Sure.”

Al's birthday party was being held in his barn; I directed Robbie there, and he could hardly contain his disgust, though he masked it behind a façade of lukewarm professional detachment. He knew the game, inside and out, and I knew that's why Dad liked him so well.

“Dammit, will you take my keys?” Robbie asked me as we walked towards the barn. “I don't have a deep enough pocket. And of course there's no coat check…”

“
Jesus
,” I muttered. He was like a little boy. “Yes, give me your stupid keys.”

Lanterns were lit and strung between wooden beams along the inside of the structure, and bales of hay were intermixed with chairs. The crowd was already lively and bustling, adults clustered around the makeshift bar in the far corner; opposite the bar was the raised, pie-shaped stage, where two teenagers were running amp cords even now.

My heart surged and stormed around inside my chest, but I realized the musicians were two older men I didn't know. I saw the Rawleys almost immediately upon entering the barn, and welcomed this excuse to separate from Robbie, who looked as ridiculous as one might expect, dressed in black pencil-leg trousers and a formal tie. Al and Helen Anne came to greet both of us warmly, before getting swept back into the group they'd been conversing with.

“I'll be over there,” I told Robbie, indicating Clark.

“I'll be over
there
,” he said, indicating the bar.

Seconds later I was wrapped in Clark's warm, kind embrace. He drew back and studied me with his mustache twitching.

“I'm glad to see you,” he told me. “You've been a stranger this week.”

“I know,” I said, hurting. “I'm sorry. You guys been here long?”

“Just arrived,” Clark said. I spotted Garth and Becky then, Becky carrying their little guy on her hip. My composure took another sharp nosedive as my eyes scanned almost frantically for Case, but he remained nowhere to be seen.

Clark said then, changing the subject, “May I tell you how lovely you look this evening?”

“You're so sweet,” I told him sincerely, and then, “Hi, guys,” as Garth and Becky drew near enough to greet. Baby Tommy was adorable as always, and I managed a smile for him, bouncing his foot. “Hey there, little guy.”

“You want to hold him for a little bit?” Becky asked me eagerly. “That way maybe I can sneak over to the bar for just a minute.”

I giggled at the anticipation in her voice, unable to refuse. She passed Tommy into my arms and I bounced him on my hip; he was about eight months, I would guess, and regarded me with a gummy smile, his cheeks so chubby that they nearly obscured his vision.

“Thanks, Tish,” Garth said, taking his wife's arm as they angled immediately towards the bar.

I giggled a little, telling Clark, “I think I just got snowballed.”

Clark smoothed a hand over his grandson's mostly-bald head and said, “I'll take him when you want to dance, doll.”

I didn't want to dance, not with anyone but Case; and at last, as though conjured by my longing for him, Clark looked over my shoulder and said, “I was wondering when you were going to get here.”

Flames leaped upwards from my stomach, igniting my heart in passing. I didn't dare turn around even as I sensed Case come right up behind my left shoulder, pausing there perhaps no more than a foot away. I swore I could feel the heat from his body. I wanted to spin around and get my arms about his neck, press close and tell him I was so sorry that I slapped him. That he made me so angry on top of being so aroused that I had entertained thoughts of forcing him to make love to me that night. As though I was capable of such a thing. I almost laughed at my own absurdity.

“Better late than never,” he said, his deep voice that seemed to vibrate in my belly.

“Dad, c'mere!” Wy called then, from a few yards away.

Clark tipped the brim of his hat, saying, “Excuse me,” and went to see what was going on with his youngest. Left alone with Case and baby Tommy, I tried to compose my face enough to meet his eyes before turning around. When I did, my heart blasted off into outer space just seeing him in front of me.

I
'
ve missed you so fucking much
, I longed to say. There were so many things I needed to say to him I didn't know where to start; instead, I stared speechlessly.

He was wearing his hat, his eyes in partial shadow, lips somber. He was dressed in a silver-gray t-shirt, one I didn't recognize, and his faded jeans, a leather belt with a silver buckle. We stared dumbly at one another for the space of two breaths before he asked quietly, “Did you get your keys on Saturday?”

“I did,” I said, my voice a little hoarse. And then, my words rushing along as fast as my heart, “Thank you for that. And I'm sorry. I really am…”

He knew exactly what I meant and said quietly, “I'm sorry too.”

I nodded in the direction of Robbie, who was drinking from a plastic keg cup, and who saw me talking to Case. I told him, “That's Rob Benson. He's hoping to work in the same law firm as I am this fall. He's spoiled and arrogant and I really can't stand him. Please, don't for one minute think…”

Case held my gaze and said, “I don't think that. I didn't really think that last weekend, truly.”

Tommy chose that moment to clench a fistful of my hair, tugging delightedly.

“Ouch,” I muttered, disentangling the chubby little fingers, saying to Tommy in the voice reserved for babies, “Listen, tiny man, that's no way to get attention.”

“But it works,” Case said, teasing me a little with both words and tone, and I looked back up at him to see a hint of a smile.

“You've tried it, I presume?” I teased right back, immeasurably glad to be near him. I could not even express in words. I thought inadvertently of Derrick's horrible words right then and knew I had to tell Case. Maybe not at this second, but soon.

“A time or two,” he allowed.

Touch me, just one touch, even for a second
, I begged him without words, studying his eyes intently.

He sensed what I longed for, even though he moved with deliberate care and gathered my hair into one hand, lifting it over the opposite shoulder and safely away from Tommy's fingers. He let his hand linger only for a second, my nerves responding to this by all simultaneously supercharging.

“You are so absolutely lovely,” he said then, his heartfelt words just above a whisper, and my insides grew even more turbulent, but Garth and Becky were suddenly there, merry and laughing, clutching not only beers for themselves but also one for me.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Becky told me, gathering Tommy back into her arms. “You're a lifesaver.”

“I woulda brought you something,” Garth told Case, bumping the side of his bicep with a closed fist, a gesture common to the two of them. “I didn't see you were here yet.”

“Thanks,” I told Becky distractedly, tearing my eyes from Case to accept the beer she offered. I realized I hadn't likewise thanked Case for what he'd just said to me, but we had been inundated by the Rawley clan and it was chaotic.

The music started then, as a man skipped a bow across fiddle strings in a call to attention. The crowd surged with a sound of appreciation, a ripple of applause. The two musicians had taken the stage and one spoke into the microphone, saying, “How're you all doing on this fine, fine evening?”

The last of the sunlight streaked over the floorboards and I shivered a little, in pure anticipation, watching Case intently from the corner of my eye. We had been jostled apart, and I tried to side-step unobtrusively closer to him.” Gentlemen invite your ladies and show us what you know!” the man at the mic ordered, lifting both his bow and fiddle high in the air before settling the latter beneath his chin and making it sing.

“Tish, dance with me, please, pretty please,” Wy said then, appearing before me and bowing formally despite his slightly less-than-dignified invitation.

I couldn't help but giggle, even as my eyes flickered over to Case, to find him watching with amusement. Wy raised his eyebrows in pleading and I couldn't refuse; I held out my right hand and he caught it into his own at once, kissing my knuckles before leading me towards the dance floor. The Rawleys were gentlemen, I had to give them that. Wy was only fifteen and yet conducted himself with more politeness and poise than most grown men.

“Two-step?” I asked, a little concerned as I observed the couples who danced as though they'd received professional ballroom training since their childhoods.