Shadows of the Past

by Frances Housden

  The connecting door to the room Maria had slept in stood open. With a shower in his sights he entered the bathroom and caught her concentrating on her reflection. She stroked a brush through her hair in front of the bathroom mirror, letting the strands curl behind her ears. She had changed into a new apricot crop top that sat almost six inches of skin above white pants. The peachy-pink color brought out sparks of copper in her hair as she tamed its waves with the brush.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and stood behind her as he had in the dark that first night. He admired what he saw. No way could he deny it, what with his body reacting like a randy thirteen-year-old’s. “Hey, you almost ready to go?”

  “Almost. I have to collect a few things from my room once the kids finish ransacking it. But other than that I’m ready to eat and run.”

  As he turned her around into his arms, her hands slid to his neck as if that was their natural position. He drew in her scent, letting it curl around his thought processes to do its worst. Scramble them. “Boy, do you smell good.”

  Holding his mouth inches from hers, he moistened his lips. “You ready for this?”

  Eyes wide, she stretched up into his kiss. Her crop top rose with her, and his hands made short work of slipping underneath. She shivered, passing little mewls of pleasure from her mouth to his. He answered with a groan as her skin slipped like satin under his hands. Her mouth flowered under his, welcoming the thrust of his tongue and the scrape of his teeth as he searched for the taste of nectar that haunted like a hunger he couldn’t satisfy. He supped and burned with the need to get closer, skin to skin, heart to racing heart

  Her eyelashes fluttered against cheeks, flushed with desire, as he raised his head. She was his and absolutely perfect, but the time wasn’t. “I’m sooo looking forward to tonight, Maria.”

  She leaned into him, the hard nubs of her breasts left trails of fire down his chest. “If you keep wanting to jump ahead, you’ll never truly enjoy the moment you’re in.”

  He thought about it for a second as his hand slid between them, cupping her soft female flesh. “I’m versatile, hon. I can enjoy both. Right now the feel of you is driving me crazy from wanting to be inside you.”

  Pressing closer to her, he made his point without words.

  “That’s what I want, too, but I’m worried that I might disappoint you.”

  He flicked his thumb over the sweet hard center of her breast. Her eyes glazed over, and he caught her up against him as her knees caved. “You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried. This is an affair made in heaven…no, Olympus. You know, where goddesses live? First time I saw you, I was absolutely positive that Olympus was your home address.”

  Her expression grew serious, her gaze narrowing as she locked on to his. “Don’t put me on a pedestal, Franc, I’m liable to fall off and break your illusions.”

  “Don’t worry, hon. I’ll catch you.”

  One glance at her own room and Maria almost threw up her hands in horror. Most of the shoes she’d left behind were scattered on the floor. Boxes she used for storing stuff she hadn’t gotten around to throwing away had been opened, her books and photographs piled haphazardly inside.

  The windows had been thrown wide and the rising wind flapped at the floral curtains she’d once thought matched so prettily with the sprigged wallpaper. The room lost some of its country-cottage appeal when seen beside Franc’s uncompromising maleness.

  It definitely wasn’t the sort of bedroom you dragged a guy into with sex in mind, she mused, turning her attention to the mess. “Guess I know what the kids were up to last night.”

  “Looks like they’ve been dressing up or playing hide-and-seek in the closet.” Franc picked up a book, glimpsed at the couple in a clinch on the cover and set it down on top of an open carton. She waited for a comment, but he didn’t ask the obvious— “Do you like romance novels?” The big guy was just full of surprises.

  “I can’t leave my room like this. Mamma has enough work on her hands, so I should tidy up before we take off. But I’m afraid it’s going to set back our arrival time in Auckland.”

  “How about I help? That should knock a few moments off. You straighten up the piles of shoes,” he suggested with a raised eyebrow, scanning them as if doing a quick count.

  “I like shoes.”

  “Hey, I’ve got nothing against them. They stop wear and tear on the feet.” He picked up a black sandal with a four-inch heel and examined it. “Great engineering, but I haven’t a clue h women walk in them without falling off. That said, on you they look great. Make your legs look longer than the Homer Tunnel.”

  “Well, thanks…I think,” she said, taking the shoe out of his hands and pairing it with a matching one. “You stick to closing up the cartons, I’ll put the shoes away.”

  He bent to straighten a carton, and had it closed and added another to the pile with quick efficient movements.

  Warmth welled up in Maria’s belly as she sneaked a quick peek at Franc’s khaki-clad butt, and before she realized it, she was staring. Spending the next couple of minutes concentrating on the job at hand did nothing to delete the memory. Huh, and he’d said her legs were long.

  She could hear Franc working behind her, the sound of cardboard buckling and scraping as he overlapped flaps to hold a box closed, but she wasn’t prepared for the “Damn!” or the crash that followed.

  The box Franc held had emptied its contents, books and old framed photos, onto the floor from underneath. “Guess this carton was past its use-by date, the bottom just gave way. Do you think Rosa will have any others?”

  “Bound to. Are you game enough to interrupt her while I sort out the stuff I want to take back to Auckland? Last time I saw her she was vacuuming.”

  “Sure, no problem. Me and Rosa, we’re like that.” He crossed two fingers together and grinned as he started toward the door.

  Maria bunched her hands at her waist and cocked her head toward his departing figure. “Don’t get too big-headed. She’s a sucker for anyone who compliments her cooking and you were laying it on thick last night.”

  He ducked back in for a second. “I cannot tell a lie. I haven’t enjoyed, or eaten so much food, in years.”

  This time she waited till he was out of earshot before letting a smile shape her lips as she thought of his fantastic butt. “It certainly doesn’t show, big guy.”

  So much for Franc’s boast to Maria that he and her mother were tight. Rosa had insisted on following him back upstairs as if he wasn’t to be trusted to repack the contents of the carton.

  In the few moments since he’d gone in search of Rosa, the pretty, feminine room had been swamped in the gray gloom of the leaden sky as if it were underwater. Rosa flicked the light switch to on. “It’s going to rain,” she mentioned as though they were blind to what was happening in the sky outside. “Did you pack raincoats?”

  Listening with half an ear, he started to gather the books from the floor. Maria pulled the tag across the last few notches of zipper curving round the small bag of summer clothes she intended to take back to Auckland. “I’m going to be in the car, Mamma. Besides, it might not be raining in Auckland.”

  He dropped the first pile of paperbacks into the carton and started on another. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her and make sure she doesn’t melt. She’ll be okay with me.”

  “Huh, no one can control nature. The storm is going to get a lot worse before it gets” said Rosa as he dropped the last of the books in the box. The noise caught her attention and she picked a book from the carton. “Why have you kept these? I thought you got rid of them years ago.”

  “I might want to read them again. In fact…” She took the book Rosa was holding then grabbed a few more. “I think I’ll take some back with me.”

  “I didn’t think a man like Franc would leave you much time for reading.”

  “Mamma…” Maria opened the bag again and pushed the books on top, closing it with an air of finality as Franc picked up some fra
med photographs, turning them over one by one to examine the glass in case any had cracked in the fall. Most were old photos of the Costello tribe when the kids were young and Rosa and Pietro sprightly.

  The last almost startled a gasp out of him, as his breath backed up behind the lump in his throat. It was of a teenage Maria, a school portrait in black and white. Her face was thinner, her eyes no less huge than when they’d danced together the night he met her. She’d worn her hair long down her back, held back by a bandeau, matching the white regulation blouse with its collar sitting primly over the neckline of a dark-colored uniform. Black, navy, he couldn’t tell. And she was absolutely beautiful, so beautiful it twisted his heart simply to look at his goddess in the making.

  Embarrassed by the emotions churning in his chest, he laughed, “Hey, Maria. Get a load of this. You look like a little nun, all that black and white. Cute though. You should have this picture on display somewhere.”

  Rosa took charge. “We have so many photos of Maria the house is full of them.”

  Funny, he hadn’t noticed.

  The photo was shoved away out of sight and Rosa piled the others on top. Her mouth was pinched, the lines around it showing her sixty or so years for once. “She’s much prettier now. I don’t even know why she kept that old photo.”

  “How old were you then?” he asked, reaching for the question like a drowning man clutching at splinters, unaware of how he’d fallen into a dark bottomless pool he hadn’t known existed.

  “She was seventeen, an awkward age,” murmured Rosa.

  Bull’s-eye! The answer hit him where it hurt the most. Seventeen. The year she was abducted.

  He wanted to say something, anything, to rectify his blunder. Maria looked at him, her eyes wide and dewy as if fighting back emotion—and who could blame her. The next moment he knew he’d been wrong as she shook her head and put an arm round her mother’s shoulders and gave her a peck on the cheek. Looking back at him, she shook her head, as if he’d be crass and say more.

  As they left the room, Maria was saying, “I don’t know about you, Mamma, but I’m starving and I’m sure Franc could eat a horse.” He heard a giggle and she continued, “Did you ever see anyone put away so much food?”

  The joke was on him, but he deserved it, and it was a relief to hear Rosa reply, “He’s a big man, he needs sustenance.”

  He didn’t think he would eat much this morning. After putting his foot in his mhe had enough to chew over for a while.

  It was an hour before Franc brought the bags down from their rooms to the entrance hall. Rosa had just come through from the kitchen with some food she’d packed for them to take home.

  “Thanks,” Franc said, “but I already called a restaurant. We have reservations for seven-thirty at a place in the ferry building.”

  “No problem, eat the food tomorrow. I’ve wrapped it well. It’ll keep, and there is enough to feed both of you.”

  “Mamma, I’m back at work tomorrow. I don’t live in Franc’s pocket.”

  He wanted to open his pocket and tell her to jump right in. It was a pity she had to work between Christmas and New Year’s, but then, she hadn’t met him before she volunteered to keep the library open in case one of their clients had an emergency.

  “Don’t refuse, hon, even tomorrow your mother’s food will taste better than the pizza I have in the freezer.”

  Rosa smiled now she’d won. Maria tucked her purse under her arm and took the parcel while he caught up the three bags.

  Pietro came out to say his goodbyes urged on by Rosa. “Don’t be a stranger now, Franc.”

  What could he say except, “Thanks,” while Maria shooed them back inside from the doorway.

  “You don’t want to get wet, the rain is blowing straight into the porch.”

  It was obvious the guy who met them on the way out didn’t mind the rain. It dripped off his hair, off the hem of his anorak and pooled onto the painted wooden floor.

  Maria couldn’t hide her surprise, “Arthur. What are you doing out in all this rain?” She glanced up and back. “Franc, this is Arthur Collins, a neighbor of ours.”

  Franc didn’t think anything more than a nod of recognition was called for, and it was all he got in return as Arthur swiped the moisture from his rain-darkened hair with a thick palm. The guy was thick all over; his wet sleeves clung to his muscled arms and the anorak was tight round the chest. In a different situation, when Arthur wasn’t dripping every which way, he guessed the guy could be attractive to some women.

  He wondered what Maria thought.

  “Arthur, you’re soaked. Don’t tell me you walked over.”

  “Yeah, it’s no distance, so I couldn’t be bothered getting the car out of the shed.”

  Maria backed away as Arthur shook the rain off like a big shaggy dog. Deciding it might take a minute or two as the guy began digging inside his raincoat, Franc put the bags down on the floor of the porch and pressed a hand on her shoulder as if to say, “I’m right behind you, hon.”

  “I brought something for you, Maria.” Arthur pulled out a small gift wrapped in red Christmas paper. He handed it to her then sighed as his fingers came away red. He wiped them on his anorak, saying, “Darn rain gets everywhere, sorry about the dye coming off. I just wanted you to have a little something so you wouldn’t forget me. They’re earrings.”

  She held the box gingerly. From where Franc stood, her expression looked a little strained as if trying not to show her distaste at her red fingertips. “Arthur, that was kind but you shouldn’t have. I haven’t got anything for you, sorry.”

  The chunky guy’s shoulders shifted uncomfortably as he blurted out, “That doesn’t matter. I just wanted you to know that I get down to Auckland quite often now, to the markets and a few retailers, and I wondered if I could maybe give you a call sometime. Maybe we could have one of those cappuccinos they love down in the city.”

  “That’s real nice of you, but I’m seeing someone right now and I don’t think he’d care for me going out with someone else.”

  If looks could kill. “This guy here? What’dya call him, Franc?” He looked him up and down. “City fella? It won’t last.” That said, he turned and headed back into the rain. At the foot of the stairs he looked over his shoulder and got in a parting remark, “You know where to find me, Maria, I’ll be waiting.”

  That, Franc supposed, was meant to cut him down to size. But he was more interested in the rapidly disappearing prints the man’s trainers left on the stair treads.

  “Well, that was interesting.” Maria turned, but didn’t quite look him in the eye and her chin lifted. “It must be six months since I last saw him. He helped out at the vintage.”

  Franc couldn’t get those footprints out of his mind. Seemed Arthur lived quite close. It would have been easy for him to slip into the vineyard and spy on them. “Did he cause you any bother? Annoy you in any way?”

  “Who, Arthur? No, he’s big but he’s a pussycat. This morning’s outing must have taken a lot of courage, because he’s usually quite shy.”

  He could tell the moment she realized what he was getting at. “You don’t think Arthur…him? Oh no, that’s ridiculous…he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  He could see the wheels turning and almost felt sorry for planting the suspicion in her mind. Her eyes lost their glow as she ran her tongue around her teeth then swallowed. “I’ve known him most of my life.”

  “I didn’t want to disillusion you. Hell, you’re probably right about him being an okay guy. But until we know one way or another, better to believe the best but expect the worst.”

  He pulled out a handkerchief as Maria stripped the paper from the tiny box. “I hope the dye comes off my fingers as easily,” she said, flipping the case open to reveal twin gold hearts. “They’re pretty, but I couldn’t wear them now.”

  “Let’s do a swap. You take my handkerchief to wipe the worst off your hands and I’ll put this gift away someplace safe until we know for sure who is stal
king you.” He pushed the box and paper in the pocket of his black Gore-Tex jacket. It was one his brother Kurt had given him and the dye wouldn’t do much damage to it. “While we’re on the subject, you do know whoever is stalking you isn’t going to stop at following you? It will escalate

  Her mouth compressed, formed a straight line that looked as if it would never again break into the smile he loved. He wanted to tease her out of her mood by kissing the mole at the corner of her lips but knew not even a kiss would help.

  “You mean like him coming into my room and touching my things when I’m not there?”

  “Exactly like that. And for that reason, I’ll be coming in to check out your house when I drop you off.” He picked up the bags. “Have you told your housemates about being stalked?”

  She walked beside him to the top of the stairs. The rain was pelting down in sheets but she didn’t appear to notice. “No, I haven’t told them. I thought I could handle the situation myself. Besides, none of them will be back for at least ten days.”

  “If we can’t sort this problem out by then, you’ll have to tell them.”

  She nodded briefly then squared her shoulders. “Time to make a dash for the car. Christmas is definitely over.”

  They were on their way back to Auckland, and from the driver’s seat of his MX5, Franc asked, “What was all that about the picture?”

  “Which one?” She adroitly sidestepped the question by playing dumb. She swallowed, felt her heartbeat pick up speed, faster than when he’d hauled that photo out of the carton and held it carefully with the same large hands that were wrapped firmly around the wheel. But that had been different; she had Mamma to think about. Too busy protecting her mother’s feelings to worry about her own.

  In a moment Franc would get down to the nitty-gritty, and having already told him she’d been abducted, what use would avoidance of the subject be now? It wasn’t that she could elaborate much further. She only remembered in her dreams, her bad dreams. And she thanked God they were soon forgotten. She had prayed about the recurring nightmares last night when she went to Mass with her family, and left Franc at home watching television.