Geir

by Dale Mayer

  The men bolted from the Jeep and raced to the front door. It was locked. They hit the doorbell several times and waited.

  “I told her to lock herself into her room,” Geir said, pulling out his phone. He called her. He couldn’t even begin to express the relief that washed through him when he heard her voice. “We’re at the front door.”

  “Really? Did you ring the doorbell?”

  “Yeah. Hang on a sec.” He pushed the button several times.

  “I’m coming down.”

  He looked at Jager. “Her doorbell may have been disconnected inside the house.”

  Jager’s gaze hardened. “Sounds like we should be standing watch tonight.”

  “I hate to, I do. I don’t want to terrify her any more than she already is.”

  Just then the door opened in front of them. But no bells went off. She smiled, hit the doorbell, and, sure enough, she couldn’t hear it right here on the front step. She shook her head. “I think somebody has tampered with my doorbell and the bells that go off when somebody comes in.”

  “I’ll check it out,” Jager said.

  “Was there some mention of dinner?” Geir asked in a gentle voice, steering her toward the kitchen. He didn’t want her to get more concerned, and he knew Jager would easily find out the source of the problem. In Geir’s mind, he figured it had been cut either upstairs or in the office.

  Morning obviously knew what he was doing because she tossed him a fulminating look. “Don’t try to hide anything from me.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Lucky for you, I have to check the oven anyway.” She put on oven mitts and opened the oven door, pulling out a bubbling hot lasagna.

  Geir stared at it in awe. “Now that’s a work of art.”

  She placed it on top of the stove, turned off the oven, tossed down the oven mitts and grabbed a big wooden board. “Only for a hungry man.” Then she put on her oven mitts again, grabbed the lasagna and placed it on the board.

  When he saw the Caesar salad, he asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “You’re on the side where the dishes are. Bring out enough for the three of us.”

  “Did you ever hear from the other couple?”

  She looked up and smiled. “They phoned. They got an emergency call. They couldn’t find me, as I was in the studio. Anyway, they packed up and left this morning, went straight to the airport. He said to go ahead and charge their credit card for the extra night.”

  Jager grinned. “At least they called.”

  She shrugged. “The thing is, people travel. And when you leave home, things can happen. It’s fine. I’m not out money. At least they did the right thing.”

  He gave that one to her. “Good point. What are there, ten million people here?” he joked. “I swear to God they were all out driving on the roads today.”

  She chuckled. “Right?”

  Just then Jager walked in. He took one look at the lasagna and whistled. “Man, am I ever glad we stayed here.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t normally do meals, remember? Just breakfast. Hence the name, bed-and-breakfast.”

  “Sure, but, now that I know, anytime I’m in San Diego, I definitely want to stay here.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, that’s very nice.”

  She served up dinner for the three of them, giving the men each a piece twice as big as her own, and then motioned toward the Caesar salad she had mixed up with dressing and parmesan. “Dig in. As you can see, there’s lots.”

  It took them a bit to get through the plate of hot bubbling lasagna, but Geir had to admit it was well worth taking the time.

  When he was almost done, she asked, “Did you find anything at the hideaway?”

  Geir nodded and explained about the message on the wall and the journal. “We did call the cops, and we did meet with the detective. That’s where we were when you called me.”

  She sighed. “The world really sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “It does sometimes, yes,” Geir said. “But right now, we’re inside. We’re safe. We have a hot meal. That’s more than a lot of folks have.”

  She nodded.

  As soon as they were finished, Geir and Jager got up to do dishes, and Morning put on the teakettle, bringing out leftover mini-cheesecakes.

  Geir eyed them and, with a happy sigh, said, “Oh, yum.”

  She chuckled. “They’re easy to keep around, and they’ll last for a week.”

  “Not when we’re here,” Jager said, grabbing one with a big smile.

  As they sat down again, she turned to Geir. “So, what’s next?”

  He sighed. “We’ll have four-hour watches through the night and see if your tormentor comes back.”

  She drummed her fingers on the tabletop as she watched and waited, as if thinking heavily about his proposition. “When are you two planning on leaving?”

  “We’ve made progress. If we can nail Poppy, then we’ll be very happy. But, if we can’t, I’m not sure how long we’re staying.”

  “Mason said three nights. Tonight is the third.”

  Both men nodded. “It’s possible we’ll stay a fourth night.” Geir knew what she would say. “You’re right. That’s not any comfort, knowing we won’t be here to protect you.”

  She looked up, smiled at him and said, “Then you’ll just have to solve this problem before you leave, won’t you?”

  Geir snorted. She had completely surprised him.

  She stood, scooped up their small cheesecake dishes, rinsed them and loaded them in the dishwasher. “I have some office work to do. If you need me, I’ll be in there.” She turned and walked away.

  Geir stared at Jager. “She’s taking it better than I thought she would.”

  Jager shook his head. “Or it hasn’t set in yet. Or maybe it’s set in, but she hasn’t quite figured out how it pertains to her. Or she has a very cool, controlled exterior, and right now she’s bawling her eyes out in the office.”

  At that, Geir stared at Jager. “Is that likely?” Straining his ear, he heard something in the distance. His shoulders sagged. “Yes, that’s exactly what she’s doing.” He got up and said, “Back soon.”

  Jager chuckled. “Yeah, sure you will.”

  Geir gave him a hard look. “What does that mean?”

  “It means, you’re already a goner, and you don’t even know it. RIP.”

  Geir stared at him for a moment as he considered Jager’s words. “Long-distance relationships don’t work.”

  “Then maybe you should know what Nancy told me. When I took her home, she mentioned that Morning and her father both own the house and he’s been trying to get her to sell it for a while. He needs his money, and Nancy doesn’t think it’s a good place for her.”

  “Why not?”

  “Something to do with being too safe.”

  Geir thought about that as he walked toward the office. This house wasn’t as safe anymore. He entered her office to find her face buried in her hands, the lights off, as she stood beside her desk. No way he could do anything but walk over and wrap his arms around her and hold her close.

  Chapter 13

  Morning didn’t even cry. She just burrowed deep into the caring arms and let Geir hold her. She’d been independent, standing on her own two feet for a long time now. At least she thought she had been, but she’d been hiding behind the safety of her house, getting through life relatively easily with an income from property she only half owned while she dabbled but didn’t really focus on her art.

  Now everything was changing. It wasn’t that she was scared of change, but it was unnerving to say the least. And this nightmare was incredibly disturbing. She wasn’t even sure she could sleep tonight.

  Or sleep ever again, considering somebody had been in the bedrooms messing them up. And for what? For a lark, just to terrorize her? She didn’t understand, neither did she understand the mind-set of anybody who would do that.


  Finally she let out a heavy sigh and tried to step away. But he wouldn’t let her. Instead his arms tugged her back, up against him, and he held her close. With his head resting on top of hers, they just stood together like that.

  “I can stand on my own, you know,” she muttered.

  “Maybe I can’t,” he said quietly. “You have to understand I never would have put you in danger if I had known.”

  “I don’t think you did it on purpose,” she exclaimed, pulling her head back so she could look up at him. “That’s not what this is about. It’s just scary to see the safety of my world fracture. It wasn’t even a real world. I was like someone living in one of those snow globes, content to live inside and just touch the world through my guests, and I didn’t have to have a real job. I didn’t have to focus on my art. I had this wonderful gift of a place to stay. Instead of being grateful for it, I let the opportunity slide away.”

  She could see confusion in his gaze. She quickly explained the situation with her father. “I spoke with him today,” she admitted. “And told him that I was finally able to see how unfair I’d been.”

  Geir nodded and smiled. “I’m sure he was happy to hear that.”

  “If he had lots of money, it wouldn’t be an issue, but it’s not fair that, when he doesn’t have the money, I’m sitting on his full asset base. Worse, I use the money from the guests to pay my mortgage and to live.”

  This time, when she pulled back, he let her go. She was almost sorry to leave his arms because it had been very reassuring and comforting being held by him. She collapsed into her chair and stared up at him. “It’s just everything was happening at once. It started with my artwork, I think. I don’t know. It feels like my world’s splitting wide open.”

  “Maybe instead of thinking of this as tearing apart your world, you should consider it as being a cocoon whose time has come to open.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then gave him a wry smile. “I thought I was supposed to be the happy, upbeat person.”

  He grinned. “You are. But everybody comes under some stress, and when Mother Nature or the universe or God, whatever you want to call it, throws your life into a tailspin like this, the stress is amplified. You’ve got not only your foundation—which is your home and money, your income—at stake, but, all of a sudden, you also have that core of who you really want to be, your artistic talent, coming under stress.”

  “Now my own personal safety,” she muttered. She turned and looked around the office, seeing the years she’d sat here working away and yet not understanding or seeing or acknowledging there had to be an end. It wasn’t like she had won a lottery and could afford to pay her father back nor was it like she had the money to pay out half a million dollars for his share. Property prices being what they were, she knew it would be at least that much.

  A second heavy sigh eased up from her deep inner valley through her chest and out her lips. She collapsed back in her chair and said, “I’m not normally somebody who is afraid, but this is definitely an experience I’m not all that comfortable with.”

  “If you did sell the house, what would you do?”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea. Because, if I sell, it’s also my job, my income.”

  He nodded. “You could always buy another bed-and-breakfast, though it wouldn’t be here. It would have to be someplace outside of San Diego, where the prices are a whole lot less.” He chuckled. “If your place is worth a million dollars, no way I can afford to move here.”

  She nodded. “Right. But it’s the location. It’s the size. The fact that it’s already an operating business.” She raised both hands in mock surrender. “I guess I’m selling the business too. Even the name of the business?” She shook her head. “I don’t even know how to answer the question of where I would move and what I would do. This is all new to me. I just don’t know.”

  He nodded. “So maybe today isn’t the day to worry about it. You’ve started the process. Let your body and your mind and your world come to terms with it, and see what pops up in the morning.” He leaned forward. “Did you paint again today?”

  She nodded. “But it’s different.” She wrinkled up her nose. “It’s really different.”

  He held out his hand to her. “Show me,” he said in a commanding tone.

  “Well, since you’ve already seen the others …”

  She put her hand in his, letting him tug her against his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. The two walked up the stairs, comfortable, no pressure, just a strong sense of friendship. No, not friendship. Her mind rejected that. There was so much more here than friendship. “Are you married?”

  He glanced down at her, a silvery light in his gaze. “No, I’m not.”

  “How come?”

  “Because I saw so many rough marriages when I was in the navy that I swore I’d never do that to another woman.”

  “Another woman?”

  “Some of my best friends broke up with their wives. The problem was, I knew several of the wives. I was good friends with them. And I saw how much the navy lifestyle tortured them. Not everybody is happy to see their man go off to war or out to sea, never knowing if they will be coming back.”

  She nodded. “Same for all military wives. I imagine anybody in the service goes through the same thing.”

  “And divorce rates are very high,” he added.

  “To be expected.” Upstairs on the landing, she walked forward and unlocked her studio.

  He stood at the doorway. “Do I have to close my eyes again?” he joked.

  She smiled and nodded. “You so do.” She grabbed his hand. “Close them now, and I’ll put you in position.”

  Obediently he snapped them closed, and she walked him to where he would be standing in front of the easel.

  “Now you can look.”

  He opened his eyes. A surprised look came across his face. “Wow. That’s really different.”

  She wasn’t sure what the word different meant this time coming from him. It was the word she’d used, but that didn’t mean she understood how he had applied it in this circumstance.

  “But it’s good.” His words came slowly. “It’s more than good.” He shook his head. “You’ve painted four very different paintings. The scope of how you’re utilizing this light is fantastic.”

  “Well, tomorrow is Friday, so we’ll see what the gallery owner thinks about it.”

  Again that silvery gaze slanted her way. “Are you nervous about it?”

  “Very.”

  “What time is your appointment?”

  “Ten in the morning. I’d normally make it midafternoon, but as Nancy is around to help out most of the time if I have to leave, I was good with it.” She absentmindedly studied the painting. “After all, I wasn’t about to say no. Although I’m so nervous I’m not sure if I will last that long.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll make sure you get there on time.”

  “By then I’ll be a basket of nerves,” she complained good-naturedly.

  He glanced around the room. “This is a nice space for you.”

  She nodded. “Technically it was another bedroom. But I needed a studio so …” Morning studied her room in the half-light. “I need a couple more hours to finish the black painting.” She sat her fisted hands on her hips and tapped her toe on the floor as she considered the lighting issue. “Because it’s a night scene, I wonder if I could get away with working on it in this light.”

  “We can pull in a couple extra lamps if you need them,” Geir said.

  She looked at him in surprise, happy to see he understood her artistic point of view. “Thank you.”

  He disappeared around the corner and brought back two pole lamps, the ones she kept by her couch in her bedroom.

  She stared at them. “How did you know they were in there?”

  “I didn’t.” He grinned. “I just went in to see what you did have and thought these would do it.”

  He set them up on either side of the
canvas, tilted the heads of the lamps and turned them on. Light filled the room. It wasn’t the same as the preferred natural sunlight, but it wasn’t half bad. In fact, it made some of her mistakes a little more glaringly obvious.

  She shook her head. “I should have thought of that. I definitely see some areas I have to work on.”

  “Good. I’ll go grab my laptop.”

  She shifted to stare at him. “Why?”

  “Because I’ll sit in that chair over there and work while you paint.”

  Her stomach got queasy. She dropped her gaze to the floor. “I haven’t ever painted while somebody watched before.”

  “Well, there’s a first time for everything,” he said gently. “Besides, it’s not like I’ll be watching you. I’ll be working on the laptop.”

  She thought about it, then took a deep breath. “Fine. But if you stop me from being able to paint as I need to, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  “If that’s the case, I’ll sit out in the hall.”

  She glanced down the hallway to see the corner of a chair between all the bedrooms. “That would work.”

  He disappeared.

  She threw on her smock and grabbed one of her paintbrushes, walked back to the painting and studied it. She could see a couple places that needed work, but what else was she planning on doing to this painting? Always before, she’d painted and then suddenly knew when it was done. “I guess I have to trust it to be the same this time.”

  She walked back to her pots of paints, grabbed her palette and picked up the colors, mixing them as she needed. Stepping back toward the canvas, she let her brush drift gently across the sky. And with that first stroke, she was transported once again into the world of her own creation as she gently smudged and smoothed, stroked and highlighted the canvas in front of her. She stepped back at one point, frowned, reached for a different color and resumed her work.

  When she did that again, she wasn’t sure. She looked at it for the longest time. In her mind, she asked the question, Am I done? Is there anything else I need to do for this one?

  No came the answer within her mind.

  She smiled. “I think that’s it.”