Twilight (15 page)

Rob was doing housekeeping in the lounge. It had been a slow day all around. “Who’re you seeing tonight?”

“A flash from the past.” Cal clapped Rob’s shoulder and went out.

8

T
HE MAGIC OF FIRST LOVE IS OUR

IGNORANCE THAT IT CAN EVER END.

Benjamin Disraeli

A
LITTLE AFTER EIGHT, Laurie went up the inside stairs to the door that opened from Mildred and Cissy’s rooms to Cal’s. She had left Luke and Maddie in the kitchen downstairs eating gumdrops and watching Cissy pop corn. She smiled. Under those conditions even Maddie was content to stay. She’d planted a kiss on her mommy’s lips, then given her full attention to Cissy’s candy jar.

Cal opened the door, and Laurie noted the stitched gash. He’d really taken a hit.

He covered it with his hand. “Sorry, I was changing the bandage.”

She stepped in but glanced once more down the stairs. “Think they’ll be okay down there?” She could hear Maddie giggling but knew how capricious her moods could be.

“You’ll have to purge their systems, but they’ll have a heck of a time.” Cal ducked into the bathroom and came back with a new gauze pad taped to his forehead. “There. No more Frankenstein.” But he’d have a new scar.

“Is it sore?”

“Not too.” He reached around the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic-wrapped bouquet of roses and baby’s breath.

Laurie looked from the bundle to his face. It would do no good to scold. On that issue, he was deaf to her complaints. She took the bouquet, fingered a peachy bloom, and breathed its scent, then set them on the table. “They’re nice, Cal. Thank you.” She bent to stroke the dog. “So this is Annie. Why would anyone dump such a nice dog?”

“Don’t know, but I sure do appreciate it. She keeps my bed warm.”

“Lucky you.”

He had the lights dimmed and Linda Ronstadt on the stereo, setting the mood. The sooner they were out of there the better. But looking around, she felt reluctant to leave. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but though it was old and broken up by eaves and arches, his place seemed welcoming … and safe.

“Ready?”

Her chest tightened. “Cal … I’m not comfortable leaving the kids.” That was true. She was tense, worried, though she didn’t want to alarm him again.

“Oh?” He stepped close and took her hands. “You want to stay here?”

Yes! She wanted to be close to him, in his place. Nothing would happen between them, nothing they would regret. She just wanted the comfort of Cal. “We could watch a movie or something.”

“Or something.”

The gravel in his voice made her pulse race, but it would not go any further than that. She slipped her hands from his and took a step back, determined not to lead him on.

He shrugged. “Look on the shelf over the TV. See anything you want to watch?”

She crossed to the shelf and read the titles, frowning. All the
Terminator
s, several James Bond, the Indiana Jones series,
Gladiator
. Hadn’t he finished with macho, fantasy heroes yet?

“My taste as bad as ever?” He met her there, took her hand, and pulled her close. “But you like my music.” He clicked the CD remote to a new song, wrapped an arm around her waist, and moved to the rhythm and lull of Ronstadt’s “Desperado.”

It was a memory song for them. He used to call her Desperado, said she was searching for all the wrong things. How had he known? She swayed against him and dropped her head to his shoulder. She needed to be held, and, as always, he knew it.

He rubbed his chin in her hair. “We always were good together.”

“All we did was fight.”

“Not all.”

No, not all. But that was past. Now it was different. It had to be. She’d blown her chance and changed everything. She had to live with that.

He circled her in his arms, held her close. “You fit better than anyone else. That’s why I saved your place.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

He threaded her fingers between his and said nothing.

She had to tell him. “Cal …”

He pressed their folded hands to her lips. “Don’t say it. Just pretend that nothing else matters, but you …” He kissed her forehead. “And me.”

She wished she could. She wished all the time and reasons that stood between them would vanish. But they wouldn’t, and she knew that better than he. She tried to back away. “I’m not good at pretending.”

“You, the great actress?”

“That was a long time ago. A phase. An attempt at finding myself. And you were the one with talent.”

“You were good too. That time as Lady Macbeth—”

“That wasn’t acting. I just put myself in my mother’s place and imagined the possibilities.”

He brushed his lips over her fingers and moved with her to the rhythm of the music. She couldn’t stop him. As wrong as it was, she couldn’t stop. Once again she was swept away by his presence, overpowered, even though he exerted no pressure. He just was. And it terrified her.

As the last strains of the song trailed into silence, he let their hands drop. “We need to talk.”

That jolted her out of her romantic reverie. “You don’t talk.”

“That was before I knew how.”

She remembered all her frustrated attempts at getting a straight answer from him. “You’ve learned?”

“I had a few months of intensive training.”

“A relationship?” The thought irked irrationally.

“More like a crash course in life skills.” He flicked a strand of hair back over her shoulder.

She raised her eyebrows, waiting.

“Group therapy. Debriefing an … incident.” He looked away.

Cal in therapy? Incident? Was he offering her honesty for honesty? She could learn what happened to him, why he’d acted as he had with Maddie, all his dark secrets from the last seven years. He’d tell if she would? The thought crashed against her wall. She couldn’t. Cal was the Lone Ranger. He’d take it and run. Instead, she reached a hand to his bandage. “How’s your head?”

“A little woozy.” He caught her hand and pulled her to the couch beside him, then hooked his arm over her shoulders.

She lifted it off and shifted over. Why did he have to be so physical? But she knew why. It was his nature to touch, and she’d given him no reason not to. She could now. She could tell him the part he needed to know.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me about Brian.”

Her throat constricted. Had he read her mind? She half believed he could, but only because he knew her so well.

“And why you got married so soon after swearing you couldn’t commit.”

He’d certainly learned to force the issue. “I don’t want to talk about that, Cal.” Hadn’t she made it clear?
Tell him
.

“You called me last night because you know you can trust me. So why won’t you?”

“It’s not about trust.” Tension rose inside her like baking soda and vinegar.
Tell him everything
.

“What are you afraid of, Laurie? Or should I say who?”

She pushed up from the couch and paced to the window. “I hate it when you do this.”

“Do what?”

“Question me and push me. Just like Daddy.” She felt eight years old again.

And why did the paint water spill?

I bumped it.

And why were you painting in the first place? In the living room, on the carpet? Haven’t you been told …

Cal stretched his arms across the back of the couch, waiting. She felt it in the knot of her stomach. Didn’t he deserve to be told? Why? Why should he deserve anything?

Angry tears stung her eyes. “Do you have any idea what it was like with my father? Not even knowing myself because I was so lost in what he wanted me to be?”

“I was there, remember? I took my share of knocks.”

That was true, even if it wasn’t fair for him to disarm her. She dropped her hands to her sides. “I know you did. You were the only one who stood up to him.”

“But that’s not what we’re talking about.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, call me stupid, but how did we get from why you got married to how your father treated you?”

She paced to the recliner and picked up a throw pillow, then stroked the velvety blue surface and turned. “We’re talking about why it didn’t work for us. Isn’t that what you really want to know?”

“Laurie, you have me so confused, I don’t know what I want.”

“It’s about losing myself, Cal.”

“What?”

She clutched the pillow to her chest. “I felt too much for you.” She watched the emotion play across his face. In all their time together she had never admitted loving him. Even now she didn’t say it. She couldn’t. But he had to understand. “I’d lose myself in you. I’d be whatever you wanted me to be. Daddy’s little girl all over again.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

She turned away. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my time. You didn’t understand before; you don’t now.”

“And Brian did? Or is that why you’re divorced?”

She gripped the pillow, fighting the anger. Why was she here, submitting to this?

“If it’s none of my business, say so. But something’s going on here, and—”

“I never should have called you. I should have known you’d go overboard. You have a hero complex.”

“Is that right?” Cal sagged on the couch. His face look harried. His voice was hoarse. “A hero complex. Well, I guess it could be worse. What did Brian have, Laurie, that you wanted enough to marry him?”

She flung the pillow hard, missing only because he deflected it. “What did he have that beat this penthouse suite in Nowhere, USA? Everything! He wasn’t afraid to be someone, to use his talents. He didn’t think poverty was a virtue. He wasn’t content with mediocrity.” What was she saying? Why was she defending Brian’s twisted morality and holding it over Cal’s head? It was herself she was describing. “Just stay out of my life, okay?” Fury burned through her veins as she stalked to the door and flung it open. What did Brian have that she wanted? Nothing. But she couldn’t tell Cal that. He would see it all, the emptiness, the fear.

Cissy had the children on the floor cutting and gluing beans to construction-paper turkeys. Maddie’s oozed like something out of
Alien
. Laurie drew a long breath and pasted on a smile. “I hate to interrupt this industry …” She heard Cal’s door open upstairs but didn’t look.

He wouldn’t make a scene, not here in front of Mildred and Cissy. Mildred’s knitting needles clicked furiously where she sat on the end of the couch. Laurie caught the glance Mildred sent Cal as he came down the stairs, but she didn’t look his way. Why wouldn’t he just leave it alone?

“Oh dear, I thought we’d have time for them to dry.” Cissy clasped her hands.

Maddie held the sticky turkey up and the beans began to slide. “For you, Mommy.”

“It’s pretty, Maddie.” Laurie set the picture down and tugged Maddie’s mittens on. “Get your coat, Luke.”

“If I move my turkey, it’ll run.”

“Lay it flat and put on your coat.” She sensed Cal beside her. Gathering herself, she glanced up.

He held out the bouquet. A simple gesture, an offering, a kindness. Why did he do that? Make her feel beholden, forgiven,
cherished
?

She took the roses. “Come on, Luke.” She herded the kids to the door. “Thanks, Cissy.”

Cissy beamed. “We’ve had a lovely time. Bring them again, won’t you?”

Cal reached the door ahead of her and pushed it open. “I’ll walk you out.”

“There’s no need.”

He followed anyway and waited while she buckled the children in. He stood by her door and pulled it open. “Be careful. It’s wet.”

She nodded.

“Laurie …”

“I know. I’m sorry, too.”

He bent and kissed her cheek, his lips warm and dry. “Take care of yourself.” It was there in his voice, something vulnerable, something she was sure she’d never heard before. He was saying good-bye, giving up on her at last.

Her heart ached. “You, too, Cal.”

Laurie hustled the children up the stairs and brushed their teeth for them, even Luke’s. Cissy and her candy jar. But the kids were bubbling. She could hardly hush them long enough to get jammied and in bed. Finally she gave in to Luke playing Tarzan for a few minutes and tucked Maddie once again into the big bed.

She didn’t climb in next to her, though. She changed into her nightshirt and went back downstairs. Sleep wasn’t likely to happen soon. She shivered. Drafty old house. Maybe a cup of tea … She snapped on the kitchen light and froze. The new window was shattered, the glass scattered on the floor, the cold air chilling the room. But that wasn’t what froze her.

Light glimmered on the blade stuck into her table. Her knife, from her kitchen drawer that still stood open an inch. Someone had been in there, taken the knife, and jammed it through a sheet of paper into the table. She forced her feet to move to the table, to the note.

It was typed and printed, no handwriting she might recognize. With shallow breaths, she focused on the words.

I want the stuff
.

Stuff? Oh no …

No cops or you lose the kids
. Her heart chilled. The one fear that had kept her from acting the first time. He’d threatened it before, the time she told him she’d talk to the paparazzi if his infidelity didn’t stop. And again when she learned he’d participated in a fraudulent deal. She could still hear the steel in his voice.
“I’ll take the kids where you’ll never find them. You know I can.”
Could he? He had means she couldn’t imagine. He didn’t want the children, but he’d used that to control her.