The Sphere Chronicles: A Holding Kate Series Book (6 page)

“On what Tara does?”

Trip snapped his eyes to Eunavae. “Maybe.”

“Have you two talked since she killed The Mother?”

“We talk every day.”

“You know what I mean. Have you forgiven her?”

“Of course. I know she was protecting me.”

“Does she know you feel that way?” Eunavae pressed her thumb into the plastic of the water bottle.

Trip remained silent, staring out at the sea. That probably wasn’t the right question. Did Tara forgive him was a more appropriate one. He’d messed things up royally with her. Repeatedly. They would always share a bond. The arena took care of that. Training side by side as battle partners for three years, honing their skills, becoming an undefeatable fighting team, solidified their connection as lifelong partners. They thought alike, reacted alike, were perfectly matched in so many ways. But he’d broken her heart and part of the bond they shared. The breach stretched between them, and Tara seemed determined to fill the void with other relationships.

Trip ground his teeth, wondering what she and Nicolas were doing around that bend
. None of my business. She’s free to do as she pleases.

Trip leaned in and punched Eunavae’s shoulder with his. “I’m glad you are here, Pinky. Thanks for coming with me.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted to see Galapagos. When you suggested it, I jumped at the chance.” She wrinkled her nose. “Were you surprised that Tara volunteered to come, too? I thought for sure she’d take Dirk up on his offer to go to Hawaii.”

“Yeah, a bit.” He glanced down the beach again. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Okay.”

“The scars on your thighs, did you do that?”

Eunavae drew a towel over her legs and nodded. “A long time ago. Well, it seems like a long time ago to me.”

“Right, you’ve lived two centuries since then.”

“It was after my dad died. I’m over it now.”

“Pinky, if you ever want to talk about anything, you know I’m your friend, right?” He reached over and squeezed her hand.

“No.” She scrunched her nose. “You’re more like a brother to me.”

He grinned and tucked her into his arm, then planted a wet willy in her ear.

“Ew! Stop!” She giggled and slithered out of his hold.

“That’s what brothers do.” Trip chuckled.

“Come on.” Eunavae jumped up and started shaking out her towel. “Let’s get back to camp before I turn as red as that crab over there.”

Trip lifted the cooler and the bag. “You’re pretty close, as it is. I’m never gonna stop calling you Pinky, now.”

Eunavae shoved at him, then called, “Race you!” and took off running.

Eight bodies stretched out on the canvas, eyes closed. Nicolas had doused the fire and instructed them to lay out and close their eyes for fifteen minutes. He kept a stream of stories going as they waited for his okay to open their eyes.

“So the tortoise god can be seen on midsummer’s night, shining down from above,” Nicolas whispered so low that Tara wondered how the others who didn’t have his lips pressed to their ears could hear him. He stroked her arm as he spoke, a constant reminder of his nearness.

Eunavae giggled on the other side of her, and Tara almost opened her eyes to see why but remembered Nicolas’s encouragement that it would be worth the wait.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now,” Nicolas called, his heavy accent distorting the words.

Eunavae gasped, “Oh my God!”

Tara opened her eyes and took in the light show above her. Murmurs of awe from the other tourists fled with the breeze. The Milky Way seemed close enough to touch; the stars huge in the vastness of space brought low for their inspection.

“Whoa,” Trip whispered.

A pang of longing shot through Tara’s heart. She wished Trip were beside her, holding her hand while they gawked at the stars. Tara reached for Eunavae’s hand, and they clasped each other’s grip tightly. Trip moved Eunavae’s other hand to his lips. Tara glanced across Eunavae and locked eyes with Trip. They shared a grin before his eyes slid down to her arm and saw Nicolas stroking it. The smile faded from his face and he turned back to the night sky, brow furrowed.

Eunavae released both of their hands and raised her arms to the sky, as though to embrace it. “Gorgeous,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Nicolas whispered in Tara’s ear. She turned to see him staring at her, not the sky.

She snorted.
Cheese alert!
This guy is just too much.
She wrapped her arms over her chest to break contact.

“Are you cold,
hermosa
?”

“A bit,” Tara hedged.

“I will relight the fire.” Nicolas sprang up.

Tara leaned over to Eunavae and Trip. “Guys, you can’t leave me alone with him anymore,” she pleaded.

Trip jerked his head around. “Why? What did he do?” He propped up on his elbow.

“Nothing, yet. He’s just getting too touchy-feely for my comfort.” She shrugged. “It’s probably a cultural thing. I don’t want to make a big deal of it.”

“No problem.” Trip jumped up, leaped across Eunavae and Tara, and plopped into the space vacated by Nicolas. “We’ll just keep you surrounded so he can’t get to you.”

Eunavae pressed into Tara’s side, and Trip offered his arm for Tara’s head.

“Did Eunavae tell you about her love connection on the beach today?” Trip reached across Tara and flicked Eunavae on the nose.

“No, with who? Barney Fife over there?” Tara giggled at the selection of sixty-somethings that had come camping with them.

“Tell her,” Trip urged.

“Tara, you would have melted. He was the cutest little seal pup…”

Tara couldn’t focus on Eunavae. Her heart pounded in her ears. Trip hadn’t been this close to her in a very long time. Aching sweetness ghosted through her. It was just too hard to be mad at him. She needed his friendship, wanted to resume their camaraderie. They had a lifetime together as partners, and she needed to let go of the hurts of the past and try to mend the horrible rift between them. He was too much a part of her to ignore.
We can be friends, again. Good friends.

Silence hung in the air. Tara wondered how long it had been since Eunavae had stopped talking. She’d been too lost in thought. The other camp guests had left the canvas pallet and gathered around the fire for their nightly champagne. Nicolas had wandered over to the sixty-somethings and was talking with Betina about her health insurance.

Tara, Trip, and Eunavae lay arm in arm, enjoying the night and the friendship that shined as brightly as the stars.

“We were talking today on the beach.” Eunavae broke the spell with her soft voice. “Tara, what do you plan to do when we get back to Heartwork Village?”

“I stopped by and talked to Charlie Goshen, the Village marshal, before we left. He said he has a spot for me and Trip in security until a jump command opens.”

“He does?” Trip sat up. “When did you talk to him?”

“Right after our meeting with Chaps when he gave us our travel vouchers. You all went to the diner. I slipped across the street and talked to him then.” She sat up next to Trip. “I hope that was okay, Trip. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I just thought once you forgave me for killing…”

“Tara!” Trip wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed so tight it hurt. “There is nothing to forgive on my part. I just hope…I mean, I hope you can forgive me for the way I…for everything.”

Tara nodded briskly and fingered her braid. Trip dropped his arm and glanced away in an awkward moment.

“Finally!” Eunavae blew out a huff and threw herself back down in an exasperated expulsion of emotion.

Trip belly laughed and scooped her up over his shoulder. “I’ll hold her, you tickle!” he called to Tara as he whisked her into their tent.

“Corey said she’s ticklish around the knees!” Tara jogged after them.

“Nooo!” Eunavae squealed.

THE SILVER MERCEDES
stopped in front of Torre Di Pila. Giles, the driver, jumped out and held the door for Mel and Donnie. Mel’s mouth dropped open, and she sent an astonished glance over her shoulder to Donnie.

“Donnie, when Corey said small Italian villa, I was thinking more like a Snow White cottage.” Mel adjusted the strap of her bag.

Donnie reached for her hand, and they stared at the honey-toned mansion that sprawled in front of them.

“He said he owns this?” Donnie whispered.

Mel nodded.

The front door opened and an austere woman in a white apron led a group of servants into the courtyard.

“
Benvenuto
!” The woman spread her arms wide in welcome as the staff lined up and curtsied or bowed. They were all smartly dressed in black and white uniforms, except for the young girl on the end. She wore a long gray dress with a frilly cap over her bun. Mel wondered what role she held that required different attire. “Signore Chastain instructed us to treat you as family. Come, I will lead you to your suite.”

The woman, clearly in charge, waved her hand and the formally dressed staff surrounded the car and whisked away their luggage. She motioned for them to follow and disappeared back inside the door.

Mel and Donnie grinned and joined the woman inside. The foyer was stunning. Chandeliers dripped from the tall frescoed ceilings. Murals graced the walls. Busts and vases and tall cabinets filled with crystals and china spoke of old money.

“My name is Euphemia, and I will be your concierge. Any needs you have please bring to me, and I will see to them immediately.” She swept up the winding staircase. “Signore Chastain insisted you have the master suite.”

Euphemia threw open double doors and invited them to enter. The room beckoned them with elaborate furnishings in dark antiques clothed in creamy-white linens. The back wall opened into a marbled veranda with twin curving staircases that embraced a formal garden and amphitheater. Fresh flowers adorned every surface, and a generous basket of fruits and their favorite snacks graced the circular Tuscany pedestal table in the corner.

“Dinner will be served in the
sala da pranzo
at 6 p.m. You have several hours until then. Feel free to explore the grounds. The
piscina
, er swim pool, is available for your pleasure. The grounds boast several gardens, a pond with swans, and peacocks. If you care to feed them, just see the cook. He has scraps for them.” She moved back to the door. “Ring this chime if you need anything.” She pointed to a long, braided silk cord hanging beside the bed. “Be at home,
amici
.” She stepped into the hall and closed the doors behind her.

Mel gawked at Donnie. “I had no idea. Corey has been holding out on us.”

“No kidding! I had breakfast with him every morning for 170 years. You think you would know a person after that amount of time.”

“He never said anything?” Mel stepped to the window and noted the maid in the long dress standing on the veranda overlooking the lawn.

“No.” Donnie cocked his head. “But you know what? It explains some things. Like how the Village could afford to send us to the funeral for Kate’s family.”