Deep Waters

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “No, hold on.” She caught his face between her palms. Gave him a small, determined shake to make him focus. “Stop.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I absolutely refuse to have a significant sexual encounter here in this sleazy cabin that appears to have been used by everyone in town who wanted to conduct a clandestine affair.”

  For a few seconds he did not seem to comprehend. Then she felt him relax very slightly. There was just enough light bouncing off the wall from the fallen flashlight to reveal the slow, sexy grin that transformed his face.

  “But someone left a perfectly good set of handcuffs in the bedroom,” he said. “Why waste them?”

  “Get a grip, Winters.” She scooped up the fallen flashlight. “We’re outa here. Right now.”

  “And here I’d started to think of you as a thrill-seeker.” He picked her up and whisked her outside.

  He stuffed her into the Jeep, got behind the wheel, and drove back to the cottage with a complete lack of regard for the local speed limits.

  Charity did not say a word as he pulled into the drive and switched off the engine. There was just enough light to see her sexy smile.

  He groaned and reached for her, intending only to kiss her once more before they got out of the Jeep. But passion exploded on contact.

  “Elias. Oh, my God.”

  He fumbled with the Jeep’s door with his left hand. He got the door open, but he could not get out of the vehicle. Charity was kissing him with a sweet, frantic desire that sent need swirling through his veins.

  “Here,” he whispered. “Now.”

  “Now?”

  “Right now. I won’t last until we get into the house.”

  He struggled with her jeans. She did not argue. Instead, she kissed his throat. Her hands fluttered around his waist. He groaned when she carefully lowered his zipper. He was rigid. He knew he was thrusting through the opening in his briefs, through the opening in his pants.

  He started to struggle with her jeans.

  “No, wait,” she whispered.

  “Now, what? Don’t worry, this isn’t like the old Rossiter place. I swear, no one has ever had sex in this Jeep.”

  She did not answer. Instead, she cradled him in one soft palm.

  And then she lowered her head and very delicately, a little awkwardly, as if she had never attempted anything quite like it before but was determined to experiment, she gently stroked the length of him with her wet, warm tongue.

  Elias closed his eyes. He could have sworn that he saw the spaceships finally land in Whispering Waters Cove.

  “It’s called Tal Kek Chara. The same name as the exercises and the philosophy.” Elias sat cross-legged on the mat that he had placed next to the small garden pool. He looked at his new student, who was seated on a similar mat across from him. The leather weapon lay stretched out on a towel between them. “Literally translated, it means, the tool that carves a new channel through which water may flow.”

  Newlin picked up Tal Kek Chara and twisted it tentatively around his wrist, the way Elias had demonstrated a few minutes earlier. “I thought it was a belt or something.”

  “The best weapon is that which does not appear to be a weapon,” Elias said. Newlin’s deep curiosity about the strip of leather reminded him of his own first youthful encounter with it.

  In fact, he thought with an odd sense of deja vu, this whole session brought back his own early lessons with Hayden Stone. Newlin asked the same questions he had once asked, and the intrigued expression on his face reflected the feelings Elias knew that he had had back at the beginning.

  Water never disappears forever. It may return in some new form, but it always returns.

  “What language is Tal Kek Chara?” Newlin shifted a little on the mat.

  Elias realized that his new pupil was probably getting stiff. Newlin had been sitting in the unfamiliar position for nearly thirty minutes, and it was chilly out here in the garden. The morning sun had not managed to burn through the fog yet.

  Last night he had dug out Hayden’s journal and for the first time read a few passages. He had been looking for inspiration for his first session as an instructor of Tal Kek Chara. As if fate had guided his hand, he had stumbled across something Hayden had written early on in the journal.

  A good teacher must sense the natural rhythms of learning in his students and respond accordingly. The act of teaching is discipline for the teacher as well as the student.

  He must end this first session soon, Elias thought, even though Newlin seemed quite willing to continue.

  “The language no longer exists,” Elias said. “The people that once spoke it were assimilated into a dozen different cultures over the centuries. The last place where the pure language and the knowledge that accompanied it were kept alive was in an ancient island monastery. It was a place that was cut off from the world for a thousand years. Now that monastery is empty.”

  “What happened to the monks who lived there?” Newlin pushed his small round glasses higher on his nose. “Were they killed in a guerilla war or something?”

  “No. The monastery was well hidden. It was never discovered by the outside world. But the monks were all very old when Hayden met them. They eventually died and left only the temple stream to guard the monastery grounds.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because Hayden took me to see the monastery a few years ago. We hiked for three weeks through a jungle to find it. When we arrived, there was nothing left except the ancient stone temple and the stream that flowed through it.”

  Images of that day returned to Elias in crystal-clear forms. The journey to the monastery with Hayden had been one of the most important events of his life. But he did not have the words to describe to Newlin what he had experienced as he had stood with Hayden beside the temple stream. He only knew that he still drew strength from the memories of that time.

  “Must have been kinda weird, huh?” Newlin watched him closely.

  “Yes. but I’ll tell you what was even more weird.”

  “What was that?”

  “It was realizing after Hayden died that I was probably the only man in the world who knew exactly what Tal Kek Chara meant, let alone how to use the tool.”

  “Geez.” Newlin considered that for a long moment. “I see what you mean. Kind of a lonely feeling, huh?”

  “Yes.” Newlin was going to make a good student, Elias decided. “But that’s changed now.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Now you know what Tal Kek Chara means, too.” Elias took the strip of leather and knotted it around his waist.

  Newlin stared at him, astonished. And then a slow flush of pleasure rose in his thin face. “Hey, that’s right. You’re no longer the only guy in the world who knows the meaning of the words. I understand them, too.”

  “Next time, I’ll start teaching you how to use Tal Kek Chara.” Elias rose from the mat. “There are a lot of things to learn. It’s not just a weapon and a lost language. It’s a philosophy. A way of looking at the world.”

  Newlin scrambled to his feet. “It has to do with that stuff about water, right?”

  “It all goes together.” Elias went up the porch steps. “But that’s enough instruction for now. Time to open the shops. I’ll get Otis and his travel cage. We’ll give you a lift to the pier.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Thanks.” Newlin hesitated. “Hey, Elias?”

  Elias paused at the door. “Yes?”

  “Me and Arlene are going to get married in a couple of weeks. I was, like, wondering if you’ll come to the wedding. It’s not going to be a big deal or anything. But Charity and Bea and Radiance are going to have a party on the pier afterward.”

  Elias took his hand from the doorknob and turned to gaze thoughtfully at Newlin. “You and Arlene are going to get married?”

  “Well, you know how it is.” Newlin gave him a bashful grin. “We love each other, and we’ve both got jobs, and Arlene’s through with that silly Voyage
r stuff, so we figured there was no reason not to get married.”

  “No,” Elias said. “There’s no reason not to get married. I’ll be at your wedding.”

  Newlin looked pleased. “Okay. That’s great.”

  Elias went on into the house to collect Otis and the travel cage.

  No reason not to get married. The words had the ring of a mantra. He tried them out on Otis to hear how they sounded when he said them aloud.

  “No reason not to get married, Otis.”

  Otis snorted as he stepped onto Elias’s arm and allowed himself to be settled on the travel cage perch.

  “Not you and me, Otis.” Elias closed the door of the cage. “I was talking about Charity and me. But what if she doesn’t go along with the idea? It wasn’t easy talking her into moving in here. Something tells me she’ll panic if I ask her to marry me.”

  “Heh, heh, heh.”

  “She’s not sure of me, you see,” Elias explained as he carried Otis’s cage to the door. “And I don’t know how to make her sure. Hell, the last thing I want to do is find myself in the kind of mess Loftus found himself in last year. Something tells me I wouldn’t handle it nearly as well as he did.”

  Charity pushed aside the beaded curtain that hung in the doorway of Nails by Radiance and stepped into the small shop. She came face to face with Jim Morrison and the Doors. The scowling members of the band brooded darkly down from a glossy six-foot poster that hung on the wall.

  The remaining walls of the shop were hung with tie-dyed draperies and Day-Glo art. The scent of incense wafted through the air.

  “Radiance?”

  “Hi, Charity. Be with you in a second.” Radiance, garbed in a loose patchwork gown, did not look up from her work. She was seated in a swivel chair in front of the narrow manicure table watching her client’s nails dry beneath a special lamp.

  “No rush.” Charity recognized the woman whose hands were receiving Radiance’s full attention. “Good morning, Irene. By the way, that new self-help book that you ordered has arrived.”

  “Why Self Help Books Can’t Help? Good. I’ve been waiting for it.” Irene Hennessey, a pleasant woman in her early fifties, looked up and smiled. “I’ll stop by and pick it up after I finish here.”

  “Be careful when you do.” Radiance frowned. “Even though I’m baking these nails, you know I don’t want anyone using their hands very much for at least a half hour after I’ve finished.”

  “Don’t worry,” Charity said smoothly. “Newlin or I will make sure Irene doesn’t ruin her new nails when she picks up the book.” She walked closer to the work table and looked down at Irene’s long, gleaming nails. “Nice color.”

  “I call it Irene’s Amethyst,” Radiance said. “It’s perfect on her, don’t you think?”

  “It’s great.” Charity admired the way the unusual shade highlighted Irene’s delicate coloring. “And I love those little pink squiggly designs.”

  “My signature touch,” Irene said proudly. “No one else in town has them.”

  “Of course not. You know my motto.” Radiance sat back in her chair. “Every client gets a unique design or color. I don’t mass-produce my art. Okay, Irene, they should be dry. But be careful.”

  “I will.” Irene examined her nails with a look of pleasure as she rose to her feet. “I think I’ll have a latte at Bea’s and then pick up my new book. I might drop into Charms & Virtues, too. My nephew has a birthday coming up next week. He and his friends love the sort of things Winters carries in his shop.”

  It seemed to take forever until Irene, who moved in slow motion for fear of marring her freshly done nails, finally exited. But eventually she pushed through the beaded curtain and disappeared.

  “What was it you wanted, Charity?” Radiance asked as she straightened her work surface with brisk professionalism.

  Charity reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out the twist of paper in which she had stored the clue she had found. “This is going to sound a little wild, but I want to know if you can identify the color of the polish on this chipped nail.”

  Radiance gave her a quizzical look. “The color?”

  “I really like it.” That sounded lame. Charity decided she’d better jazz it up. “I came across it when I was cleaning up the shop the other day, and it occurred to me that if I ever do decide to get my nails done, this is a color I could go for. I assume that it’s one of your special blends.”

  “Let me see it.” Radiance set a bottle of polish neatly into a long rack. Then she turned in her chair and held out her hand.

  Charity dumped the chip into Radiance’s palm. The sliver of blood red acrylic glinted in the light of the work table lamp.

  “Hmm.” Radiance examined it intently. “I wonder why she didn’t come in to see me the instant she chipped it. She’s usually so particular about her nails.”

  Charity held her breath. “Who is so particular?”

  Radiance glanced up. “Jennifer Pitt, of course. This chip is painted with Crimson Jennifer. It’s Mrs. Pitt’s special color.”

  “I see.” Charity retrieved the chip. Her mind began to spin with the implications. She had to talk to Elias immediately. “Thanks, Radiance. She probably didn’t come in because of all the stress she’s under at the moment.”

  “It must be terrible for her.” Radiance sighed. “Just think of what that poor woman’s been through lately. She hasn’t been happy in her marriage for months, and now she finds out Leighton’s killed two people.”

  “We don’t know for certain that Leighton killed anyone.”

  “Hank Tybern would never have arrested him if he hadn’t been sure. You know Hank. He’s real cautious.”

  “That’s true.”

  “It’s obvious when you think about it. Leighton lost everything because of his ex-wife and Rick Swinton. He had the perfect motive. It’s probably all been just too much for Jennifer. No wonder she’s decided to leave town.”

  Charity froze halfway to the beaded curtain. “Jennifer’s leaving Whispering Waters Cove?”

  “That’s what Irene just told me. She said she saw her packing her car this morning when she drove past the Pitt house. Who can blame Jennifer for wanting to get away from this place? The town never really accepted her, you know. Most people blamed her for the breakup of Leighton’s first marriage. But if you ask me, Leighton was just as guilty as Jennifer. He didn’t have to start fooling around with her, did he?”

  “No,” Charity said. “He did not.”

  It occurred to her as she pushed her way back through the beaded curtain that she would never have to worry about Elias sneaking around with another woman. There was a solid, unshakable core in him that she might sometimes find maddening but that she could count on until the end.

  It was a good feeling. Another part of the sturdy foundation on which she intended to build her future with Elias. A man who could be faithful could learn to love.

  But first she had to make certain he did not get hauled off to jail for the murder of Rick Swinton. Resolutely, she turned and strode off down the pier toward Charms & Virtues.

  Elias stood in the darkest corner of Charms & Virtues and contemplated a counter heaped high with plastic hamburgers, fake ice cubes with bugs imbedded inside, and magic relighting candles. There was something different about this section of the shop. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew that the mountain of wares he was studying had altered in some indefinable manner.

  He decided he needed the flashlight that he kept under the cash register counter. Maybe Charity was right after all about the poor illumination in the shop, especially this section here at the rear. Ambience was one thing, but when it got to the point where a customer had to strain to read the labels on the packages, the atmosphere thing was a little too thick. He’d have to see about getting some lamps for this counter.

  In the meantime, he wondered why it seemed different back here. He leaned closer and prodded a stack of small boxes containing miniature wind-
up insects.

  “Elias? Elias, where are you?”

  He turned at the sound of Charity’s excited voice. For a moment he did not respond. He just stood there in the shadows and savored the sight of her hurrying toward him between two long aisles. Memories of the night flooded through him. Just the thought of her hot, wet mouth on him was enough to give him an erection.

  The good news was that he would no longer have to waste a lot of time every day working on ways to ensure that she spent every night with him, he thought.

  “Good morning, Otis.” Charity came to a halt at the counter. “Where’s Elias?”

  “Heh, heh, heh.”

  “Helpful, as always, I see.” She glanced around. “Elias?”

  “Back here, Charity. In the imitation food and insect section.”

  She turned quickly and peered into the hazy rear portion of the shop. “Oh, there you are. You’ll never guess what I just found out down at Radiance’s place.”

  “Did she identify that nail chip for you?” He strolled toward the counter.

  “She did.” Her face glowed with triumph. “It’s Crimson Jennifer.”

  “Translate, please.”

  “It’s the color of red nail polish that Radiance blended especially for Jennifer Pitt. Do you see what this means?”

  “Jennifer Pitt was fooling around out there at the old Rossiter place?” Elias reached the cash register counter and crouched down behind it to find the flashlight he had stored there. “We already knew that. She used to meet Leighton there, remember? She could have chipped that nail during one of those little trysts.”

  “Know what I think? I think she met Rick Swinton there, too. It makes sense that she might have chipped a nail while playing Swinton’s rough games.”

  “So? Judging from what we’ve learned about Swinton, any number of the fine, upstanding ladies of Whispering Waters Cove may have played cops and robbers with Swinton and his handcuffs out there. And we already know that the second Pitt marriage was on the rocks. Leighton told us he thought she was seeing someone, remember?”

  “Elias, you’re missing the point here. That nail chip may tie Jennifer to Rick Swinton.”