Sailing out of Darkness (Carolina Coast Book 4)

by Normandie Fischer

  The waiter set down plates of broiled flounder. Hovering momentarily, he asked, “Will there be anything else?” When Teo thanked him and said no, he bowed and left.

  Teo again cleared his throat. “It’s too soon. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked in such an unromantic way.”

  “Could we think about it later?” Sam tried to keep her voice steady as her whole body drummed with tension. “When there’s not so much going on?”

  “Of course. Now, let’s see what they did to this poor fish.”

  Her first thought on waking the next morning was that she couldn’t marry Teo. She couldn’t move forward in any relationship without first settling all the residual mess. She had to talk to Jack and had way too much left to fix. Besides, how could she consider marriage when she didn’t know if she were yet strong enough to make it on her own? Hadn’t that been her priority?

  She’d failed rather miserably since she’d been home, but kissing Teo had been a tonic. He’d definitely woken the sleeping princess.

  Now this princess just needed to figure out how to be strong enough emotionally so she wouldn’t need a man. It was fine to want one. That was a different issue entirely.

  She poured boiling water over the coffee grounds. As it dripped through, she considered visiting Jack. It wasn’t a new idea. Initially, India had loomed like an armed sentinel. Then Jack had said not to come.

  Now? Now, she’d read—they’d read—the diary. She needed closure.

  Teo’s knock came as she searched the larder for something to eat. One thing she hadn’t done yesterday was buy groceries. She opened the door. He extended India’s horrible epitaph.

  She set it aside. “You read all of it?”

  “I did. It explained a lot.”

  “Let’s eat first. Options, I’m afraid, are limited to a plain bagel and a plain bagel.”

  “Then I guess it’s a bagel. I’ll fix it, if you’ll fix me a cup of coffee.”

  She smiled. “Deal.”

  After they’d eaten their Spartan breakfast, Teo suggested they look for a new apartment. “You really can’t stay here.”

  He wasn’t the first visitor to be appalled by the place. Even she knew it hadn’t been a good choice for someone who’d been wallowing enough for three. Nodding, she headed toward her closet.

  “I don’t think you’ll need a jacket,” he said, “unless it’s light one. We’ve got an Indian summer day out there.”

  She hated to mar the day and Teo’s enthusiasm in it. She cleared her throat. “There’s...there’s something I have to do. Before anything else.”

  He quirked a brow.

  “Jack. I’ve got to see Jack. First.”

  His face closed, hard and fast.

  She reached toward him. “Please understand. I have to finish things.”

  The hard expression slowly eased. Finally, he nodded and let a smile just touch his eyes. She caressed his cheek lightly. “I’ve got to face this full on before I can think of any future.”

  “You know how to get there?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll look it up. Put it in the GPS.”

  They didn’t talk as they climbed in the car and headed toward the clinic, but when Teo hit the turn signal that would bring them to the front of the building, she cleared her throat. And mentioned her other qualms, the needing versus wanting thing. He focused ahead. She used too many words, spoke too quickly, until suddenly she heard herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

  “Let’s take it a step at a time.” His voice was quiet and restrained. “Jack first.”

  Her stomach pressed bile upward, burning her throat. She dug in her purse for an antacid, ripping loose the pink chewables. She hated the thought of hurting Teo, but more than that, she dreaded confronting Jack.

  The slap of her shoes echoed on the tile floors, a counterpoint to the beeps and bings from monitors. The halls reeked of cleaning agents. She hesitated at Jack’s door. He didn’t want to see her, but now it wasn’t only their own behavior they had to face. She knocked and entered.

  His gaze followed her as she approached the bed. His scowl increased her nervousness. “Sam,” he finally said.

  She’d expected him to look terrible, but her expectations and this reality were worlds apart. Maybe he’d started to improve, but his sallow face and the black circles accentuated bones she’d only imagined. His once salt-and-pepper hair had gone completely gray—gun-metal instead of an attractive white.

  “How are you?” She slid her fingers along the footboard.

  Jack’s stare moved to her fingers, making her so nervous that she shoved her hands in her pockets. “Fine.” His voice had a bit of a rasp to it. “And you?”

  She shrugged. “Fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “Neither do you.”

  “I know.” He pressed the lever to raise the bed’s head and tugged the covers toward his chin. The knuckles on his hands had extended, as if he had newly acquired arthritis or newly lost tendons. His once muscular arms had shriveled into thin, sinewy sticks. “How was Italy?”

  “Great. I had a wonderful time.”

  “Tootie said you were the one who found India.”

  She didn’t even flinch at his abrupt words, but crossed to the window and peered down at the dirty street. Hospitals always seemed to have terrible views, either of rooftops full of power transformers, the worst-part-of-town streets, or back alleys and dumpsters. The temperature outside was unseasonably warm and the sky bright and sunshiny, but in here the air smelled stale. With her back to him, she said, “Yes. I found her.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “I read the diary you sent. How could you not have known how bad it was?”

  She expected some contrition, some puzzled wonder. Instead, he barely paused. “I just didn’t. She never showed me that side of her.”

  Sam turned to stare at this man who spoke so calmly.

  He ran a hand over his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I failed her, but she’d obviously been sick for years.”

  “I just don’t get it—I don’t get how you could have missed the signs.”

  “Hey, look, I said I don’t know. I didn’t know.”

  “You must have had hints.” Her frustration built as she watched him. “Even I had hints from the way she talked when she came to the shop.”

  Jack reached over and with those claw-like hands picked up his cup of water, took a sip, and set it back on the table. “You want anything to drink? I could ask the nurse to bring you a juice or something.”

  “No. I just want to understand.” She returned to the foot of his bed. “Don’t you see? We killed her. You and I.”

  Jack blew a breath between his lips. It sounded disgusted, disgusting. “Don’t be ridiculous. She was crazy. Her diary was full of rantings about finally going where her brother was. I mean, she used to talk to his ghost, for crying out loud, as if she actually saw somebody. She thought he came to her.” Jack used the edge of his sheet to wipe off sweat that beaded on his forehead. “You saw what she wrote. And she’s the one who pulled that trigger.”

  “But if we hadn’t betrayed her, none of this would have happened. We were the catalyst.”

  “I don’t think so. Seems to me she was doomed from the beginning. Something else would have set her off if my leaving didn’t.”

  Sam stared at the set of his jaw, at the coldness in his dark eyes. His only emotion seemed locked in those beads of sweat. Then memories flashed.

  Why was she only now remembering Jack’s squared shoulders, his fists balled at his side and eyebrows lowered until the rest of the world either gave in or watched his back as he walked away? She pressed her eyes shut, as if closing them would block the images and slow the blood that pumped loudly in her neck.

  Maybe she hadn’t remembered because she’d always been the one standing next to him. Or maybe it was because she’d always acquiesced before his should
ers squared.

  Opening her eyes, she picked her words and slowly spoke them. “The times India came by—” And here she paused, choking down her anger so she wouldn’t raise her voice at him. “She was over the top. But I told myself I must have been mistaken. If something were truly wrong, if she were ill, you would have noticed. That’s how I rationalized it. I thought her crazy, but crazy as in odd, not as in sick.”

  “I only saw her alcoholism.”

  “You didn’t look deeper. I didn’t look deeper. And now she’s dead. In my boat.”

  “I’m sorry about that. You understand why she picked Alice, don’t you?”

  Sam stared at him. “That’s all you’re sorry about? The boat?”

  “Look, I’m sorry she was sick. I’m sorry she felt she had to kill herself. I’m sorry it happened in your boat and that you found her. But I’m not going to be sorry you and I loved each other.”

  “Did we? I’m beginning to think not.” She glared into Jack’s face to see if she could find any traces of the boy she had idolized. “Lust, yes. Love, no.”

  What stared back were a stranger’s eyes. The signs had been there ever since she’d met up with him again, but she’d never let herself believe them. She shuddered. “I’ve got to go.” She heard him call her name as she hurried down the hall.

  42

  Samantha

  The hairshirt prickles, scratching worry lines

  Between my tears, because I turned things inside out

  And lost the altruist.

  Teo didn’t say anything as she climbed in and buckled her seat belt. Nor did she. It was a shame. Lovely weather, messy lives.

  He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “You can tell me what you want when you want, okay?”

  “Do you suppose we could just drive around? Out into the country?”

  “We can do that. I don’t know about you,” he said, picking up a paper bag and opening it, “but that bagel didn’t quite cut it. I’m ready for food. You prefer chicken salad or ham?”

  “Chicken salad. Thanks.”

  He started the car and pointed it into traffic. “Which direction?”

  “East? At least that will get us away from this urban sprawl.”

  She bit into the sandwich and stared out the window, nibbling more to keep busy than because she was hungry. When she’d finished a quarter of it, she reclined the seat and closed her eyes. Teo remained mercifully silent.

  Her stomach growled. Maybe food hadn’t been such a good idea after all. She pressed a hand against her abdomen, trying to silence it.

  She’d spent so many years thinking she loved Jack. If that were an illusion, if she’d been that stupid once—okay, twice—what about now? With Teo?

  Was she capable of loving a man? Any man?

  The more she thought about her romantic history, the more she convinced herself that she shouldn’t be here, pretending everything was fine. Pretending she might actually have a future with Teo. It wasn’t fair to him. She ought just to tell him the truth and be done with it.

  She took a deep breath, turned her face to the window, and said, “I don’t think I should be with anyone.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said in his calm, matter-of-fact voice.

  She mumbled, “So many mistakes.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  Facing forward, she repeated the words. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his fingers loosen on the steering wheel. So, matter-of-fact had been only in tone. As miserable as she felt, that thought encouraged her. Which made her think she must be sick, too.

  “Ahh,” Teo said, drawing out the sigh. “The guilt thing.”

  Sam chewed on her lip.

  “I was afraid it might be the gimp thing.”

  That jerked her around. “You mean, because you walk with a cane? Why should that bother me?”

  “Remember I mentioned that Janet—my ex-wife—couldn’t even stand the thought of mangled limbs and scars. Frankly, my dear, the image—up close and personal—is much worse.” He cleared his throat and said in his best deadpan, “I have rather eschewed relationships myself.”

  She reached over to touch him. “Oh, Teo, your scars wouldn’t bother me.”

  He kept his focus on the road. “Then, if it’s merely the guilt thing,” he said, “I need to remind you that none of us deserves much of anything. We certainly don’t deserve forgiveness, but we do need to seek it.”

  “I can’t believe how Jack acted. He doesn’t even regret what we did! How can he not, with all these repercussions?” As the traffic thinned, Sam told him what Jack had said and about her final fear.

  “So, it is more than just guilt. You’re not sure you love me.”

  “Oh, Teo, you make it sound so cold. I feel as if I love you, but what if that’s just an illusion, too? I don’t have a very good track record.”

  “I have a solution for that.” He glanced at her and flashed that smile of his, the one that made her insides turn all gooey. “We can wait as long as you need to. I’m a very patient man, and I’m in love with you.”

  She fumbled in her purse for a tissue to blow her nose. “There’s something else.”

  “Oh, no.” He was doing that twinkling-eye thing again.

  “Not about you or us. About the guilt thi-ing.” A hiccup caught her mid-word. She blew her nose again and took a deep breath. “I think what gets me most of all is that India hurt and all I did was abandon my post.”

  “Explain.”

  “I only made things worse for her by my self-centeredness.” She twisted the tissue around her index finger. “I mean, who’s going to listen to someone who’s trying to steal her man? And I was. Me!” She jabbed toward her chest. “I wanted Jack to want me, not her.” The tears started up again, but now they only made her mad. “See.” She swiped at the wet with both hands. “I’m no better than I was then, ’cause here I am, feeling sorrier for myself than I do for India. She’s the one dead, and I’m the one who could have offered her hope. If I hadn’t been so focused on me.”

  Teo smiled gently. “Stefi was right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She said you’re good at guilt. Honey, you’re not just good, you’re first rate. How many people would heap that one on their shoulders? Especially considering the emotional shape you were in while you were dealing with India and Jack?”

  “But it’s true.”

  “Sure, it’s true. But give yourself a break. You were hurting, too. You needed healing, too.”

  “But India’s dead.”

  Teo took his right hand off the steering wheel and lifted her fingers to his lips. “Darling Samantha, you are not India’s healer, nor her counselor, nor the one who consigned her to death. Trust just a little? Let yourself off the hook?”

  “I hate it.”

  “I know, and maybe if Jack had been more observant, he would have realized how badly she needed help. If he hadn’t been so tuned into what Jack wanted and needed and so out of tune with what his selfishness caused. He was the one living with her. Not you. And without help, India’s illness doomed her.”

  “Jack used that same word. Do you think she would have killed herself if I hadn’t come along?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Jack’s failure to be what she needed stemmed as much from his humanity as from his selfishness. He was trying to compete with a superhuman lover, a memory who would never let India down, who would never be imperfect, because he was dead.”

  “Her brother,” Sam said.

  Teo nodded and hit his turn signal to pass a slower car. “Her brother would always remain the exalted one who saved her from misery when she was a child. He died before he could fail her, although, of course, in dying he abandoned her to their father, which merely made things worse.”

  He paused as he finished passing and eased the car back into the right lane. Then he said, “From what the diary reveals, my guess is she would have held on to the image of Rick in the immediate, Rick with h
er, if she could have believed herself worthy enough to keep him. Once she tried to kill Jack and knew she’d been caught at it, she was convinced her meanness drove Rick away. She was no longer able to get to him. She had failed.”

  “So, you’re saying that if she hadn’t tried to kill Jack, she wouldn’t have killed herself.”

  “No, I’m only saying that I think the attempted murder hastened things. Jack would always fail India. And whatever catalyst worked to change her from a woman who took it out on herself by drinking too much to one who wanted vengeance for sins committed against her, that thing would mark the beginning of the end. Her negative self-image would be validated.”

  “And so she would imagine Rick leaving her?”

  “Yes, and she’d need to find a way to get to him. Ultimately, to punish herself as Rick punished himself, thus sending her wherever Rick was.”

  “Incredible. And you got all that from reading her diary?”

  “And from listening to you tell your story. From knowing you.”

  “Too bad,” she said, turning away. “Too bad I couldn’t have figured it out way back when. Or Jack couldn’t have. She so desperately needed help. And hope.”

  “You didn’t have access to her thoughts. You didn’t have the diary. And Jack had no hope to give her because he didn’t have any himself. Which made him someone who used her—and you.”

  She’d slept so little the night before that her eyes grew heavy. She yawned.

  “Lean the seat back” Teo said, “and close your eyes. You need a nap.”

  She smiled over at him. “I’m so tired I hurt.”

  “So, sleep. I’m fine.”

  Obviously, she slept and for a while. She sat up, adjusted the seat back, and sighed. “Thank you. I feel so much better.”

  “I’m glad.”

  They’d left the highway. It looked familiar, but pine woods and fields often resembled each other. And then she spotted a barn she knew. And a lane. “Why are we here?”