Sailing out of Darkness (Carolina Coast Book 4)

by Normandie Fischer

  Sometimes writing is the only thing that keeps me sane. It certainly is the only friend I have, now that you’re so quiet. That and the lovely liquid in my glass.

  Where are you, Rick?

  Sam continued to cradle her head in her hands as Teo stopped. How had India managed to survive? What she’d needed had been someone to listen to her. Someone who really cared. Not a betraying boyfriend or a witchy other woman.

  Oh God.

  “She pauses there,” Teo said. “There are some squiggles as if she tried to write and then quit.” He turned a couple of pages and began reading again. Sam had nothing to add, certainly nothing to say.

  Jack is just like my father. I knew it. I told Rick so a long time ago, but he kept saying to have patience.

  Yes, Rick came again, but this time it was only sort of. I mean, I sort of could see him, just not clearly. Or hear him clearly. It scared me, how far away he seemed. I told him what Jack said, and he reminded me who made Jack sick. Like I could forget.

  I’ve disappointed Rick. He’s not mad, he says. Just sad. And, you know, when he says it in that croaky whisper, it’s worse than ever in his real voice.

  Rick says he still loves me, that he’ll always love me, but I can’t feel him anymore. I can’t touch him like I could before. He’s only a shadow image when I look at him. I hope it’s not because he’s mad at me. I hope he isn’t hiding to punish me.

  He says no, he wouldn’t do that. He says maybe it’s something else. A spirit thing. Like a barrier because of the bad things I did to Jack. But if that’s true, if I can’t ever touch or see Rick again, I’ll die.

  “Another pause. Do you want to take a break here?”

  “What I want is not to know anything, to be in a state of innocence again. But that’s not likely, is it?”

  Teo touched her cold fingers. “Honey, you’ve got to come to grips with what happened and forgive yourself.”

  “How? When I don’t deserve forgiveness?”

  “No one does. Remember, unmerited favor?”

  She pointed to the book. “Just read.”

  I feel cold all over, or at least I did before I got warmed. Liquid fire works better than any furnace. The thing is, the black place is growing. The hole has always been deep and dark, but now the edges are jagged, like it’s creeping into parts of me and leaving some things alone, outlining my stomach and kidneys in black. I wonder what’s supposed to be in the blackness and isn’t. Did I get born without a part, something everyone else has?

  It was shallower before. I wonder if Jack made it bigger. I wonder if you can dig holes in yourself just by doing something mean. Rick says I was mean to Jack. I don’t think I was meaner to him than he was to me, but maybe I’m wrong. And maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe Jack has a hole of his own that’s getting bigger, but he’s never said. Maybe my hole will go deeper and deeper if Jack doesn’t get well. If it gets too deep, what will it do to the parts of me that are outside, especially the parts with that black ring around them? Are they doomed? Does a growing hole push things out of its way or does it absorb things, like black holes in space? Will I just disappear into it?

  I tried to nap, but I couldn’t. I walked around my garden, but I couldn’t do more than pull a couple of weeds. I felt wobbly, so I came back in.

  If only Rick would let me see him—no, that’s wrong. He said he can’t. It’s not like he’s not letting me. He isn’t the one doing it, the one keeping us apart. I guess he thinks it’s my fault. But if it’s me, I don’t know how to make it different. I don’t know how to make things better, to make the bad go away so I can get him all the way back.

  I said I was sorry. So Jack’s supposed to forgive me. You don’t have to forgive someone who doesn’t apologize, like I don’t have to forgive my father. I never could do that. Never. But you’re supposed to forgive the person who says sorry. The Bible says so.

  Mother kept forgiving Father, even after Rick went away, but I can’t. Not ever. She said he apologized to her. Well, he didn’t say a thing to me. Why didn’t my mother get mad and stop him when he did that to me? Or when he made Rick leave?

  That made him a murderer of his own son. MURDERER. Mother should never have forgiven him. So maybe I’m wrong and Jack shouldn’t forgive me. But Jack was wrong first. He should forgive. Now his wrongness and mine are making everything horrible.

  Too horrible.

  And if the horrible stays and the black hole eats me, how will I ever find Rick again?

  Teo looked up and shook his head. “I can’t believe no one caught how unbalanced she was. And you said Jack is intelligent? Where was his head when she was off talking to Rick and drinking herself silly?”

  “I don’t know. You’d think that sort of illness would manifest itself enough to be seen at work or among friends. Some place. The couple of times I saw her, I thought her behavior slightly over the top, but Jack couldn’t see it.”

  “Or didn’t want to.” Teo sighed. “And her misperceptions about God?”

  She couldn’t comment. Or wouldn’t.

  Teo lifted the book again.

  Lies steal breath. I finally know what I have to do. I know how to get to Rick.

  He read that and then turned the page. “Blank again,” he said, flipping to another page. Then he continued.

  I failed. I got in my car and tried to go to the place Rick drove off the bridge, but the battery was dead again. Jack said I needed a new one, but I didn’t believe him because it always worked after he charged it. Dumb. Super dumb. I planned everything so carefully. I was going to find Rick, and the best place seemed to be the bridge. That sounded painless enough, driving off the edge, a quick fall, probably like one of those roller coasters, and then splash. If I didn’t wear a seat belt, it should all be over pretty quickly.

  Then I thought of drowning, of sucking up water, panicking, screaming, and decided maybe my battery dying was a sign. Maybe Rick remembers how it was for him and doesn’t want me to go that way. So I’m sitting here trying to figure out what he does want me to do.

  I have a gun Jack bought for me. I don’t like guns, but Jack said he wanted me to be protected when he wasn’t home, so he taught me to shoot it. Guns are fast. And it would only take one bullet.

  That feels right, which I think means Rick approves. Now I just have to collect the gun and the bullets and figure out where.

  Okay. Got it. And you know what I realized while I was collecting everything?

  Sam is getting off scot-free. It’s not fair. Not when Jack has to pay and I sure am paying. So I have the perfect solution. It came to me as I fit the bullets in the spinning cylinder.

  Her boat.

  That was it, that stupid little boat. Sam made the witchy things on that boat and seduced Jack there. This time I won’t fail.

  Okay. I’m going to have one more drink to get me through the next part.

  What shall I wear? I’m thinking my favorite pants suit, the dark purple crepe with the blue silk shirt. I’ll use Jack’s truck. And one more thing. I want Jack to understand, so I’m going to leave this diary for him. He needs to know I didn’t want to kill him. Just like I won’t kill Sam. But I will kill that Alice boat because without the boat Jack would never have gone to Sam. I should have let him keep his. Now Sam won’t have a boat, and Jack won’t ever go to her again. At least I can take care of that.

  Dear Diary, I’m back. Or maybe I should write, Dear Jack. It’s time. I’m here. The sun is shining, so it will be a good day. Geese are calling up there in the sky. I told them to fly away or someone might shoot them.

  I’m completely sober now. I’m not crazy or drunk. I’m just going to be with Rick. Soon, I’ll be with the only person who has ever loved me and then I will feel his arms around me again. I’m coming, Rick. I’m coming.

  Teo closed the book and looked up. “Someone should have known.”

  Sam hated to imagine what it must have been like to be India. To think about things the way she had. “Oh, Teo.”<
br />
  He reached over and pulled her into his arms. The cold pierced all the way to her toes.

  41

  Samantha

  I’ve a flashlight in my pocket, I’ll shine it in the dark,

  Under stones and bedclothes, until I find you out.

  “Come on,” Teo said as he rubbed her back. “Let’s go somewhere. You don’t need to stay in this place another minute.”

  She sat up and looked at his dear, kind face. All the emotions she’d suppressed since her return slid into place. “Do I have time to take a shower? I feel filthy.”

  “Take your shower. It’ll warm you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  She hadn’t done her laundry, but she did have a clean pair of slacks and a silk blouse to wear under one of her angora sweaters. She hadn’t dressed in anything like this since she’d left Italy.

  Water splashed off the tile walls and gurgled down the drain, the semi-clogged drain. Shampoo slid into her eyes, but she let the spray clean it from her face, from her body.

  The knobs squeaked as she turned off the water. She reached for a towel. A hand slipped it behind the curtain. She stared at the hand and the towel hanging from it, and then she tugged it free.

  She had wiped dry and covered herself before Teo pushed the curtain out of the way. She clutched the ends closed at her back.

  He didn’t speak, just looked at her with darkened eyes that revealed a heat she recognized. Her expression must have changed as her heart sped. Her lips parted, half in shock, half in anticipation. He waited. She took the hand he extended, stepped onto the bath mat with that towel covering all the embarrassing parts. Teo rested his cane against the basin cupboard without moving his gaze, lifted his free hand, and touched the side of her face, gently tracing her lips with the edge of his thumb. She moaned, ever so slightly, but enough, she supposed, to give him courage.

  “Samantha,” he breathed as he lowered his lips and moved one hand to the back of her head, the other to the base of her spine, keeping it on top of the towel and the towel from slipping. She couldn’t believe how sweetly encouraging his lips felt, how strong and warm the hand on her back. When he deepened the kiss, she had no choice but to respond.

  “Oh, Teo,” she whispered when she could, as her arms circled his neck.

  Teo’s grasp tightened on the towel that still separated them, holding it shut as he finally unwound one arm and put a few inches between them.

  Sam stared up, momentarily bereft, and quickly secured the covering as she backed away. She bowed her head to hide the rising blush. “Why did you do that?”

  His words were softly spoken, but she could hear his breath catch. “Why did I kiss you or why did I stop?”

  She shrugged, fixing her gaze on the tip of his polished shoe.

  “I think you know why I kissed you. If you’re wondering why I stopped... Honey, there are rules.”

  “Oh.”

  “You know I want you. It’s got to be obvious.”

  She looked up quickly. His reddened cheeks elicited a slight smile. “I should get dressed.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said, turning and closing the door behind him.

  She moved to the mirror and stared at the smile that continued to widen. How had she let that kiss happen? Okay. She was glad it had. But it still felt odd that she could have gone from the pits of misery to hungry in less time than it took to say the words. She hoped she’d slid into his arms because she’d trusted him not to take advantage, but had she? Or had she hoped he would?

  She blew her hair dry and wandered out with a brush in her hand. He turned. “Let’s go find some real food. We need to talk.”

  You’d think that after the statement, “We need to talk,” they’d have said something substantive once Sam slid in beside Teo in his rented SUV. Instead, the conversation took the form of reminiscing, which led Sam straight back into that place of comfort combined with fun that she’d known in Italy.

  That buzz lasted until she gazed at her reflection in the restaurant’s bathroom mirror as she washed her hands, and an unwelcome thought dropped like a water balloon to drench her mood.

  She had gotten all dewy-eyed with Teo. Might have succumbed to lust if he hadn’t backed away. So. Was she still the needy, grasping woman she’d been?

  Being a victim was exhausting work, but she felt as if she were back at it again. She tossed up a prayer right then, because the idea of being the needy yes-sayer again, the same hurting yes-sayer from her days with Jack—who’d swallowed every no she should have spoken—tightened the knot in her gut.

  “Who are you?” she asked that woman in the mirror. “Have you changed at all, or is Teo merely the one in front of you now?”

  And was she any better, any stronger than India had been?

  She shuddered at that thought. She didn’t want to be either weak or needy. She wanted to be the strong woman she’d once imagined. She wanted to be a woman capable of making relationship choices that were healthy. But how could she know if she’d arrived there, or if she remained stuck on replay?

  The love she’d imagined for Jack might have been merely gratitude that a good-looking man had found her attractive. Had actually wanted her. But look what she’d done with that imagined-love, that gratitude. Let it and him seduce her.

  Was this different? It felt different. Teo felt different. But, honey, she’d better figure out what different meant so she wouldn’t fall back down the other side of the sliding board again.

  She’d climbed to the top twice, teetered there for a while, and landed smack on her face in the sand pit. Now she was back on that ladder, aiming for the top—and for stability. Not for another fall.

  She glanced toward the ceiling and whispered, “Please, show me.”

  Candlelight flickered in Teo’s eyes. The restaurant setting breathed romance, but Sam braced herself.

  Be rational. Be careful. Wait.

  They’d finished the salad course when he reached across the table and touched her hand. Oh, no. She suddenly felt so overwhelmed with emotion that tears gathered, but they weren’t from sadness.

  It might have been the place. It must have been. They’d shared so many meals together and had so much fun. Their afternoon spent walking hand in hand through Chapel Hill reminded her of the days in Italy.

  Perhaps those internalized responses surfaced as she stared into Teo’s face now. His generous nature, his kindness, and his humor compelled her to turn her hand into his as her heart flopped against her ribs like a hooked fish on the deck of a boat. Her lips opened, and she whispered, “I am so glad you’re here. I missed you.”

  “I did hope that’s what the kiss meant.”

  She grinned. “At least that.”

  And on those words, he grew serious again. “You know how I feel. I haven’t changed my mind.”

  Ducking her head, she tried to slow that battering going on in her chest. But she couldn’t say the words. The kiss had been pretty convincing—or rather her reaction to it. Or maybe it had been him pulling away that got her attention.

  To feel valued enough, treasured like that, seemed so rare.

  “I mean,” she said, trying to get it all clear in her head, “I didn’t feel anything but lousy this morning when I saw you at the door. I just wanted you gone.”

  Teo laughed out loud. “I don’t know where I got the courage to hand you that towel or to stand there waiting for you to scream me out of the place. I don’t even know why I did it, but something compelled me.”

  “I was so shocked, I guess I dropped my guard.” She couldn’t look him in the eye as she thought of the barrier he’d thankfully held between them. “From there to here in eight,” —she paused to check her watch— “no eight and a half hours is rather hard to believe.”

  He did his fingertip-kissing thing again, which sent shivers down—or maybe that was up—her spine. Her grin expanded at that irrelevant thought.

  “Do you think you can bring yourself to imagine loving me back
?”

  Oh, my. He was seducing her. Right here. At least, that’s what it felt like. But more an affectional seduction. Romancing.

  She wasn’t ready for romancing or seduction, affectional or not. She wasn’t ready to admit she felt more than friendship. But her mouth seemed to open all by itself and say, “Yes.”

  He whooped. And then he covered his mouth with his linen napkin and cleared his throat, faking a cough. “Sorry,” he said, his eyes laughing at her over the linen. “I expected you to say no.”

  “Teo.” Sam did her best to frown. She failed. “Why did you ask me if you thought I’d say no?”

  “It just slipped out.”

  “Well, so did my yes.”

  And with that, he really did laugh, but he kept it low so as not to attract more attention. “You, my dear Samantha, are a fraud.”

  “If I am, you are too.”

  “Perhaps. Which means we’d better join forces to keep each other honest.”

  “What, some kind of honor pact?”

  He ignored her words. “I see only one solution.” And here he paused for just a moment, perhaps two breaths’ worth, before he cleared his throat and said, “My very dear Samantha, will you marry me?”

  That dropped her jaw almost to the table. She hadn’t imagined he’d propose. How could he propose so soon? “M...marry?”

  His grin slipped. “Well, yes. That seems the logical next step. I love you, and it’s obvious I’d like the right to take the towel down next time. And when that towel comes down, it needs to be official enough to keep you from tumbling into more guilt, don’t you think?” He paused a beat. “I also want to be here to help you through everything.” His fingers squeezed hers gently. “I’d like the right to do that.”

  As much as her stomach fluttered at the prospect of being able to wake up next to this dear man—okay, and not have those rules, like a clung-to towel, between them—and as much as she really did seem to love him, the thought of marriage petrified her.