Cooper couldn’t remember a single time in his life when he’d voluntarily put himself out for someone else. Man. What did that say about him?
That he was a miserable, selfish jerk. Which he already knew. Hell, since that summer fifteen years ago, he’d done his best to keep a safe distance between himself and the human race. It had started deliberately. He even remembered making the choice to pull back, not only from his cousins, but from his parents, his grandfather, his friends.
Then after a few years, that distance had become a part of him. A part of his life that he’d grown so comfortable with, he’d never tried to change. Safer that way. Easier.
Until now.
But this was different.
This was Kara.
“It’s not rocket science, Sam,” he snapped, shoving both hands into his jeans pockets and rocking on his heels. “I can take care of the house and one sick woman.”
“Okay,” Sam nodded, eyeing him speculatively, as if he wasn’t quite sure Cooper meant what he was saying. Then he shrugged. “Maggie will probably want to come over tomorrow to check on her anyway, though.”
“She doesn’t have to, but thanks.”
“Now, I’m going home.” Sam turned for the back door, opened it, then stopped, looking at Cooper over his shoulder. “And while you’re at it, you ought to get some rest, too. You look like hell.”
Cooper shrugged off Sam’s suggestion and once his cousin was gone, set the teakettle on the antique stove and turned on the burner. Rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, he located a coffee mug, then finally unearthed the jasmine tea bags that Kara had bought her first day in town.
Hitching one hip against the counter, he stared at the kitchen windows and the night crouched just beyond the circle of lamplight. He caught his own reflection in the glass and admitted that Sam had a point. He did look like hell. Worry etched itself into his eyes and bracketed his mouth.
Not too surprising. Of course he was worried about Kara. She was a part of his life. And tonight, she’d become an even bigger part.
A draft of cold air slipped past him and he shivered. Still staring at the glass, while the water in the teakettle began to stir, Cooper noticed a flash of movement. A white, shadowy film that moved across the glass and then disappeared.
He straightened up slowly and only absently heard the low pitch of the teakettle beginning to hum. He looked around the empty room and wasn’t even surprised when he heard a heavy sigh reverberate around him.
The teakettle began shrieking, the sound driving into his head like a nail. He took the two steps to the stove, shut the fire off and flipped the cap off the kettle to end the noise. He poured a steaming stream of water into the cup, instantly releasing a flowery aroma.
While the tea steeped, he searched through the pantry for a couple of soda crackers. Despite what Sam had said, he figured Kara might be hungry and he wanted to be ready. When the tea was ready and the crackers on a small plate, he picked them up and looked around the room again.
“You still here?” Weird. Talking to a ghost. Weirder still, he was half expecting an answer. When nothing happened, he headed out to the stairs. At the door to his bedroom, he stopped. In the soft puddle of light from the bedside lamp, Kara lay, sound asleep.
He walked into the room, set the tea down on the dresser and placed the crackers alongside it. Then Cooper took a nearby armchair and dragged it to the side of the bed. He sat down and felt another cold chill brush along his shoulders and he stiffened reflexively.
Whispering into the quiet room, he said, “I’d appreciate it if you could skip the crying tonight. Kara’s sick and she needs to sleep.”
For several long moments, nothing happened, and then Cooper felt the chill in the room slide away, as if it had never been. Nodding to himself, he settled into the chair, got comfortable and prepared for a long night of keeping watch over Kara.
Seven
The cold was a living wall, surrounding him, devouring him. David felt it taking small bites of his heart, his soul. Helpless to stop it, he could only observe helplessly as the cold slowly, inexorably, eased into every corner of his being.
But there was something more, too. Something less substantial than the cold and yet far more insidious. Like an oil spill, it filled him, an inky blackness that was slowly obliterating who he had been before he’d first entered the hotel.
Worse, he couldn’t fight it.
A scream slashed through the silence, tearing it as a sharp blade would rend fragile silk. And…and… Damn it.
“Then what?” Cooper said aloud as he flopped back against the chair and glared at the screen of his laptop computer as if the machine itself were deliberately sabotaging him. A scream? Who the hell screamed? And why?
Usually, he worked through his books by the seat of his pants, believing strongly that if he ever sat down and plotted the thing out, scene by scene, he’d suck the heart of it out. The immediacy. And besides, he sort of enjoyed being surprised by whatever his characters got into.
But now…he couldn’t think. Couldn’t concentrate on his book because he couldn’t stop thinking about the woman upstairs, lying in his bed. Sitting in a chair in his bedroom, he’d managed to doze off a couple times during the night. But every time Kara moaned or sighed in her fevered sleep, she’d brought him right out of it again.
His eyes felt like two marbles rolling in sand. Lifting both hands, he rubbed them, making the ache more pronounced. Then he braced his elbows on the tabletop and cupped his face in his palms. How was he supposed to come up with a fictional horror story while he was so concerned about Kara? Should the flu really be this hard on a person? Shouldn’t she be feeling better by now?
Kara wouldn’t drink any of the tea he brought her. Turned green at the offering of soda crackers and only spoke to tell him to go away.
As a nurse, he was a bust.
Or maybe Sam was a quack and she needed something more than rest.
Pushing up from the chair at the kitchen table, he stalked out of the room, across the living room and up the stairs, his long legs taking them two at a time. He turned for his bedroom and knocked quietly before opening the door.
Kara turned her head on the pillow to look at him as he entered. In the sunlight, her skin was too pale and lavender shadows lay beneath her eyes. She looked exhausted.
“Cooper, at least let me go back to my own bed.”
“No,” he said, giving her a smile she didn’t want. “You’re not getting out of that bed until you can do it without racing to the bathroom.”
She tugged the quilt up to her chin and sulked. “I’m not a child,” she pointed out.
“I remember,” he said.
She groaned and pulled the quilt up over her face. Voice muffled, she said, “Oh, God, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Remember.” She weakly pushed the quilt back down but closed her eyes as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. “Put the whole night out of your mind. I have.”
That stung more than he would have thought possible. Amazing how much difference a few hours could make. Last night, he’d held her in his arms, locked himself inside her body and felt her quickening response. Today…they were like two polite strangers.
The easy camaraderie they used to share was gone. Friendship splintered by sex. Sex she didn’t even want to think about. Great. By changing their relationship, he’d hoped to convince her not to quit. Now, it was starting to look like he’d only accelerated the process. Hell, she was lying there in his bed and already further away from him than she’d ever been. Disgusted with himself and the situation, he said, “I’m going into town. Pick up a few supplies.”
“Good. Go away.”
“Won’t be gone long,” he said, paying no attention to her crabbiness. “I’m going to ask Maggie to come sit with you. Make sure you stay in that bed.”
Her eyes opened so she could glare at him briefly. “I’m not an infant. I can survive on my own for a couple o
f hours.”
He ignored her tone, figuring a person was allowed to be crabby when they felt like hell. He always did. And the last time he was sick, he remembered suddenly, Kara had been at his side the whole time. He’d never questioned it, never even really taken the time to appreciate it. God, what an idiot. “Trust me, I don’t think of you as an infant. But Maggie’ll be here anyway.”
“I don’t need a sitter. I just need to get well.”
“You will.”
“When?”
“Okay,” he said smiling, “now you’re starting to sound like a baby.”
“I can’t help it,” she snapped and flopped her arms down on top of the quilt. Her fingertips idly played with a loose thread. “I hate being sick and I don’t want you taking care of me.”
“You’ve been taking care of me for years,” he reminded her. “Consider this payback.”
“A debt.” She sighed. “Great. Perfect.”
Now what had he done? “I’ll be back in awhile.”
“Apparently, I’ll be here.”
He left her then and went to call Maggie.
“This’ll be good for him,” Maggie said, smoothing the fresh linen case on the plumped pillow behind Kara’s head. As she moved along the bed, tugging at the quilt, she walked through a slash of sunlight that gilded the lighter streaks in her dark hair. Smiling, she glanced at Kara. “Maybe what Cooper needs is to feel needed.”
Kara wasn’t so sure about that. In the years she’d known him, he’d made a point of never being indispensable to anyone. He never had relationships that lasted more than a few months. And until this summer, he hadn’t even seen his family in years.
He wanted to be needed?
No, Kara didn’t see that. She’d always thought that Cooper did everything he could to keep from being needed.
“He’s making me crazy,” Kara admitted as her stomach did another wild pitch and roll. She slapped one hand to her abdomen and swallowed hard, determined to get through the rest of the day without ending up on her knees in the bathroom. Inhaling deeply, determinedly, she said, “He hovers. He brings me tea I can’t drink and crackers that make me want to heave. And then he just sits there and stares at me. And I look hideous.”
Maggie chuckled then sat down in the chair beside the bed. “Apparently, Cooper doesn’t agree. He’s worried about you.”
She’d like to think so, but reality kept rearing its ugly head to keep her from delving into fantasies best left alone. “It’s not worry,” she said on a sigh. “He said he’s just paying me back for all the years I’ve been taking care of him.”
Maggie shook her head, disbelieving. “Did he actually say that?”
“Yes. And,” Kara added, “he feels bad for me because I got so sick right after—” Oops. No point in turning this little chat into a confessional.
But Maggie was too quick to be fooled. A pleased smile curved her mouth as she leaned back and lifted her feet to cross them on the edge of the bed. “Ah…so you finally managed to get him to notice you?”
Kara sighed again, this time in disgust. “Oh yeah. He noticed all right. Hard not to notice when the woman you’re making love to suddenly has to make a break for the bathroom.”
“Oh no.” Maggie winced in sympathy. “Right in the middle?”
She shook her head. “Right after. In the middle of what was looking to be a truly great afterglow.”
“Oh,” Maggie said dreamily, “I do love the whole glow part.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Kara said. “My glow was cut short.”
“So, next time will be better.”
“Next time?” Kara repeated on a disgusted groan. “There won’t be a next time. He saw me sick as a dog. Held my head. Please. Any man who has to live through that is never going to look at that woman with passion again.”
Maggie laughed.
Kara scowled at her. “So happy to give you your morning chuckle.”
“Well come on, Kara.” Still grinning, Maggie nudged her with her foot. “You think couples never see each other at their worst? Trust me. I’m sick every morning and every night, Sam’s right there, pulling me in close and…” She cleared her throat. “Well, that’s not the point.”
“No you’re right. It’s not. That’s completely different. You’re pregnant,” Kara said, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “With Sam’s child. Of course he’s still sexually attracted to you. He loves you.”
“Yeah,” Maggie said with a contented sigh, “he really does. Are you so sure Cooper doesn’t love you?”
Kara snorted and tugged a little harder at the loose string on the quilt, wrapping the thread around her index finger until the tip of it turned purple. “Love didn’t have anything to do with it. At least not on his part. Trust me Maggie, I wish you were right. I wish he did love me. But he doesn’t.”
Another sigh wafted through the room. This one was deep, tormented, heartfelt. It came from nowhere. And everywhere.
Maggie dropped her feet to the floor and shot straight up in her chair, like someone had shoved a steel rod down the back of her tank top. “Was that…?”
Kara looked around the room and shrugged. “I’d introduce you but I don’t know her name. So I’ll just say, Maggie, meet our ghost. Ghost…Maggie.”
He really had to get out of the frozen food section more often.
When left to his own devices, Cooper usually snatched up whatever edible looking frozen dinners he could find and called his shopping finished. Today, he’d gone up and down every aisle, the produce section and even the meat counter. Amazing really, what was out there.
He stacked a dozen grocery bags in the trunk of his SUV, and slammed the lid shut. Then he looked around the quiet main street of Coleville and for the first time, really felt as though he’d come home.
Not much had changed and a part of him was grateful. Stupid really. He’d been avoiding this place for fifteen years because of the memories and now he was relieved to find it much as he’d left it.
A cool, sharp wind flew in off the ocean, dispelling some of the summer heat as Cooper walked toward the drugstore on the corner. Two kids rattled past him, surfing the sidewalks on skateboards whose wheels growled in their wake. An old woman lifted her suitcase-sized purse and shouted at them, but the kids didn’t even slow down.
Cooper was still smiling to himself as he opened the door and heard the familiar clang and jangle of the old-fashioned bell over the door. God, when he and his cousins were kids, they’d been in and out of this store all summer. Candy bars, ice cold sodas and comic books were all he’d needed back then to make him happy.
And just for a second, Cooper wondered why life had to get so complicated.
He wandered through the aisles, nodding and smiling to the few people he passed. A refrigerated cabinet held a selection of flowers and before he could think twice about it, Cooper had the thing open and was reaching inside. Roses? He grabbed up a big bouquet of yellow roses, took a sniff, then stopped to think about it.
Did Kara like roses? He didn’t know. And why the hell didn’t he know? Five years they’d been together and he didn’t know if she liked roses? He scowled down at the tight, colorful buds, then let his gaze sweep the interior of the case. There were a few mixed bouquets and a selection of carnations, daisies and some weird looking purple flower he couldn’t identify.
“This shouldn’t be so hard,” he muttered, shifting his gaze from one bunch of flowers to the next as refrigerated air puffed out around him.
“Cooper Lonergan, shut that door! You think I’m paying to cool off the inside of the store?”
He jumped, startled and spun around to look down into Mrs. Russell’s beady black eyes. The old woman had been a hundred and ten when Cooper was a boy, so he could only guess that she really had been an evil witch. Because she was still alive—and looking no friendlier than she had back in the old days.
“Sorry Mrs. Russell,” he said and stepped back, still clutching the roses as he shut
the glass doors. “Just trying to make up my mind.”
She frowned at him and scuttled past toward the cash register behind the front counter. “Well, do your thinking with the door closed.”
“Nice to see you, too,” he muttered.
“Horrifying, isn’t she?”
Cooper turned to face a tall pretty woman with pale blond hair and deep blue eyes. She had a wire basket over one arm and a knowing smile on her face.
“Ah, yeah,” he said, trying to figure out who she was. She looked at him as if he should know her, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how. “But then she always was.”
The blond cast a quick glance to make sure Mrs. Russell was out of earshot before saying, “I think she’s still holding a grudge against you and your cousins for the Fourth of July fiasco.”
He smiled just thinking about it. Funny, he hadn’t remembered that in years. He, Jake, Sam and Mac, eager for a little early celebration, had pooled their money and bought some illegal bottle rockets. They hadn’t actually planned to launch one of them into the Russells’ shed and burn it down.
Still smiling, he recalled, “And then Jeremiah made us spend the next three weeks building her a new shed.”
“You got off easy,” the blond said. “I was grounded for a month.”
Cooper narrowed his gaze on her and just for a minute or two, the last fifteen years fell away and he saw her as she had been then. Tall and skinny, with wide blue eyes that were always locked on Mac. “Donna? Donna Barrett?”
“Hi, Cooper,” she said, “it’s good to see you again.”
He swept her into a hard hug, then jumped back as the bouquet of roses dripped water on her shoulder. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem. I heard you and Sam had come home.”
“Yeah. For the summer anyway. Jake’s coming, too.”
“All of you together again.” Her voice went wistful, and her gaze dropped to the basket on her arm.
“Almost all of us,” he said, knowing that Donna’s thoughts were centered on Mac. And why wouldn’t they be? Donna and Mac had lived in each other’s pockets that last summer.
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