Adam Then and Now

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Try,” Haskett said.

  She struggled through the mental quagmire Haskett had created for her. She couldn’t just call Adam and ask for the prints and negatives. The request had to seem more casual than that. Earlier he’d offered dinner. Perhaps he’d believe she’d had a change of heart.

  Her legs felt like chunks of concrete as she walked to the kitchen wall phone. She opened a cabinet drawer and took out the phone book, her hands shaking as she paged through it looking for the number of Los Arboles. Finally, she dialed it and asked for Adam’s room. Her heart pounded and her mouth grew dry as the phone rang. Mentally she rehearsed what she planned to say, but she had little confidence in her delivery. She was a terrible liar.

  The phone rang countless times, until an operator interrupted. “He’s not answering. Would you care to leave a message?”

  Loren closed her eyes. He wasn’t there. She grasped desperately at alternatives. “Do you have a paging service? He might be out by the pool, or in the bar.” Or driving aimlessly through the night. Please be there, Adam.

  “I’ll check for you,” said the desk clerk, a cheerful lilt to her voice.

  Loren longed to trade places with her. How glorious to have nothing to do except cater to a hotel switchboard tonight. She fantasized about the young woman’s life—single, childless, with the world still a bright, beautiful place to explore. She’d been like that once, too. She—

  “Adam Riordan.”

  Her breath caught at the sound of his voice. “Hello, Adam.”

  “Loren?”

  “I...wondered if it was too late to...to take you up on your offer of dinner.”

  “Of course not.”

  Knowing she was about to betray him, she winced at the note of anticipation that had crept into his voice. “You haven’t eaten?” she asked.

  “No. I’ve been sitting in the Jacuzzi. You can probably hear the bubbles.”

  He sounded so friendly, so eager to connect with her again, that she wanted to cry. “Yes, I can.”

  “I certainly didn’t expect to hear from you. Just out of curiosity, what changed your mind?”

  “I...I decided we’re rational people who should be able to enjoy a last dinner together and part amicably.” The speech sounded stiff and rehearsed. Would he question her further?

  It seemed not. There was only a brief silence on the other end. “Okay,” he said at last, not sounding quite as happy as before. “What time should I pick you up?”

  She had three hours, until the concert was over. “I can be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  His laugh was tinged with surprise. “You must be a hungry woman.”

  She fumbled for a response. “I guess I am.”

  “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes, then.”

  “Fine.” She replaced the receiver, took a deep breath and walked slowly back to the dining room. She glanced at her father and looked quickly away. The emotions reflected in his eyes only increased her panic. “I’m meeting him for dinner,” she said to Haskett.

  “I don’t care if you meet him for a game of boccie ball. Just get those negatives and prints.”

  “I haven’t figured out how to do that yet.”

  Haskett looked at her with his pale, close-set eyes. “You’re a clever girl. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  * * *

  ADAM GAZED across the candlelit table at Loren. She hadn’t eaten much, despite her rush to have him pick her up. Her attempts at conversation seemed forced, and she acted as if she’d rather be anywhere but in this restaurant with him. So why had she called?

  He’d tried several conversational gambits, but none of them had panned out. This last dinner together was turning out to be a very painful experience. So what was new? He was still glad to have a few more hours with her, awkward though they might be. “Did you mention the picture to your father?” he asked.

  She jumped and spilled water from the goblet she’d been holding onto the pale green tablecloth. Her gaze was stricken. “What picture?”

  “The Red Rock Crossing picture.” Whatever had been bothering her, he seemed to have touched a nerve. “I thought you might have landed into him for making that print for me.”

  “No.” She dabbed at the wet tablecloth with her napkin. “I didn’t mention it.”

  “You’re really jumpy, Loren. Is it that difficult just to sit across the table from me?”

  She shook her head and attempted a smile. “I guess...I guess I’m thinking about Josh and Daphne on that winding Oak Creek Canyon road at night. We’ve had some rain and it’s probably slick. That road has always worried me, anyway.”

  Concern for the kids on the wet road gave his gut a squeeze, but he didn’t think the state of the Oak Creek Canyon road was what was bothering her. “From what you’ve said about Josh’s sense of responsibility, I can’t believe he’s a bad driver.”

  “No, he’s a good driver. A lot better than most pilots I know.” She didn’t crack a smile and he knew she hadn’t been trying to make a joke.

  “Then they’ll be fine. I’ll bet Josh has been up and down that road a million times since he got his license. Probably in a lot worse weather conditions than this.”

  “You’re right, of course.”

  Adam talked to reassure himself as much as to comfort Loren. Daphne was in a rebellious mood, which didn’t contribute to his peace of mind. Just before he’d left to pick up Loren, a bellman had come by and suggested he might want to hang on to both courtesy bar keys from now on. With a little probing, Adam had discovered that every bit of food and drink had been cleaned out the night before, presumably by Daphne and Josh.

  Adam had considered telling Loren about the incident, but she seemed so preoccupied and worried that he was afraid the information would only make things worse for her. It didn’t much matter, anyway. He could afford the extra charge, and he’d confront Daphne about it later.

  He’d already decided that when she came home tonight, he’d show her the pictures and tell her about Barnaby Haskett. He had to trust her with the information sometime, and if he handled the whole thing right, she wouldn’t call her mother. He couldn’t predict what Anita would do if she was given the information that her lover was about to be arrested. She might write Haskett off or she might warn him. Adam didn’t want him to be warned.

  Loren picked up her wineglass, stared at it and put it back down, untouched.

  “Ready to go?” he asked gently.

  She nodded. “I’m terrible company tonight. You’re probably sorry you offered this dinner.”

  “No,” he murmured. He’d take what he could get.

  “I suppose it’s the exhaustion from all that we’ve been through.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Adam motioned to their waiter. After the check arrived, he left money on the table and helped her from her chair, although he was careful, as he had been all evening, to keep touching to a minimum. She’d worn a simple gauze dress belted at the waist with a full skirt that skittered around her bare calves as she walked. It reminded him a little of the white chiffon graduation dress she’d worn twenty-three years ago. He wondered if she’d thought of that. Probably not.

  Outside the restaurant he paused, uncertain what to suggest. He was quickly running out of excuses to be with her. The rain-fragrant night beckoned, but he couldn’t think of any acceptable way they could enjoy it together.

  “You know, I just thought of something,” she said, her voice a tad too brittle, too bright.

  He gazed at her. In a pig’s eye. Intuition told him he was about to hear the real reason she’d agreed to this dinner.

  “You’ll be presenting those prints to the authorities in Phoenix tomorrow, right?”

  “That’s right.” He went on full alert. So this whole strained evening had something to do with the pictures they’d taken.

  “Well, I could get some exposure out of your doing that.”

  “I’d be glad to give them your card,” he said easily. An
d waited.

  “That would be great, except the prints aren’t prepared the way I normally prepare them, and I’d kind of like them to be.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She laughed, but it sounded false. “Oh, I wouldn’t expect you to. You probably don’t remember, but all the prints I’ve sent you in the past were stamped with the Icarus logo. I haven’t done that with these. It may seem like a small point, but when people are confronted time and again with the same logo, it sticks in their brain, and I get more business.”

  “I suppose so.” He couldn’t believe it, but maybe, just maybe, she was doing this in order to find a graceful way to go back to his hotel room with him. It seemed way out of line for her, but he was having trouble coming up with an explanation for her strange behavior. “The prints are in the safe in my room,” he said carefully, watching her face. “Would you like to drive over there now and get them?”

  “That would be great.”

  His heart began to pound. There was a feverish, eager light in her eyes. Maybe, just maybe...but he was still very confused. Despite his hopes, he couldn’t imagine Loren’s wanting to make love in a room adjacent to his daughter’s, especially when they didn’t know when Daphne would be back. Even he’d be uneasy about that, although he could always lock the connecting door. He decided to play out the hand and see where it led.

  * * *

  BACK AT THE RESORT they walked past perfumed flower beds on the way to his room. “Why do flowers always smell sweeter at night?” he asked, more to break the silence than to get an answer.

  “Maybe it’s an illusion,” she said. “Maybe they smell just as sweet in the daytime, but we’re so bombarded by the brilliance of daylight colors, we don’t use our other senses as much.”

  “Maybe.” He hesitated, then decided he didn’t have much to lose. “Or it could be part of a giant conspiracy to make people fall in love. A moon, a soft summer night, the scent of flowers in the air—what fool could resist all that?”

  Had he imagined she’d say, “Not me,” and snuggle against him? If so, he’d been way off the mark. She said nothing, didn’t even look his way. He fitted the key in the lock.

  During the war the commanders had used the phrase “acceptable losses” to describe the level of carnage the war effort, or the country, could tolerate. When Loren had refused to communicate with him years ago, he’d finally resigned himself to look at their parting as an acceptable loss. Painful, yes. Regrets had haunted him for years. But he hadn’t been paralyzed. He wasn’t sure he’d come out as unscathed this time.

  He closed the door and turned toward her. She stood in the middle of the room, the expression on her face one of a woman purchased for the night. He’d tried that once in Nam, had hated the feeling that a woman came to him because she needed money, not love. What did Loren need?

  “I’ll get the prints,” he said, crossing to the closet that housed the wall safe. If that was what she was here for, she wouldn’t have to sleep with him to get them.

  “You might as well give me the negatives, too.”

  He froze in midstep as an alarm sounded in his head. “Oh?” He forced himself to sound casual. “Why’s that?”

  “I want to make sure the prints are in the right order. I can’t be sure I’m doing that unless I have the numbered negatives to go by.”

  Adam knew he had a decision to make, and only a fraction of a second in which to make it. In the end, it wasn’t so hard to decide. She might not have even noticed his slight hesitation before he continued toward the closet, opened the door and punched in the wall-safe code. He pulled out the envelope and turned around.

  She was right behind him, reaching for it eagerly. Much too eagerly. He handed it to her. “Thanks,” she said, sounding breathless as she held the envelope close. “This will make for a much better presentation.”

  “I’m sure it will.” He tried to hold her gaze, but it skittered away. The knowledge that she was keeping something from him stabbed with a pain sharper than he’d have thought possible. Something was terribly wrong, and she wouldn’t confide in him. He glanced away, afraid he’d start asking questions and demanding answers. And that wasn’t how he wanted to operate.

  “I’ll help you stamp and arrange if you like,” he said, more to get her reaction than anything else. He didn’t expect her to take him up on the offer.

  What might have been panic flashed across her face for a moment. “Actually, I work much better alone when I’m doing something like this. I guess it’s the artist in me coming out. Temperamental and all that.”

  He glanced at the envelope. The negatives and prints inside were invaluable to him, and he had no idea what she was going to do with them. Certainly not what she’d told him. But she was more important than the contents of that envelope. She wouldn’t trust him, but he would have to trust her. Otherwise, his life made no sense.

  He tried one more time. “Loren, if there’s any way I can help you, you only have to ask.”

  “That’s nice of you.” Her friendly tone was completely fake. “But I can handle this.”

  “Then I’d better get you home so you can get started.”

  He drove her back in silence. There was nothing more to say. She’d become a stranger.

  He parked the car in the circular driveway and started to get out.

  “I’ll see myself in,” she said, reaching for the door handle. “And I’ll contact you tomorrow to return these. What time should I call? I wouldn’t want to wake Daphne.”

  “Call anytime. Daphne would sleep through a four-alarm fire.”

  In the darkness, her smile looked more like a grimace. “Okay. Then expect a call about eight. You’ll probably be anxious to get on the road.”

  “Thank you for having dinner with me,” he said quietly.

  “Oh! Yes! Thank you for dinner.” She paused. “And for...trusting me with these.” Her voice trembled.

  She hadn’t meant it to be a signal. He knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. But in those trembling words he heard a faint cry for help, a cry she’d tried hard to repress. “I’d trust you with my life,” he said.

  “I know.”

  He read desperation in her gaze before she wrenched it away.

  “Loren, what is it?”

  “I’m very tired,” she said, her voice choked. Then she flipped open her seat belt and got out of the car.

  He watched her walk toward the darkened house, the envelope clutched in both hands. Sirens screamed in his head. There was danger here. And he would not leave her to face it alone.

  As he circled the driveway, his attention was arrested by the reflection in his rearview mirror. Loren, her face illuminated by the porch light, looked petrified. What was going on?

  He turned left and started down the road toward the resort. A glance back at the house convinced him she’d gone inside. He waited for oncoming traffic to clear and made a swift U-turn. A few yards before her driveway, he pulled to the shoulder, shut off the engine and got out of the car.

  Instincts unused in more than twenty years took over as he moved forward in a semicrouch, keeping close to the foliage bordering the driveway. Clouds covered the moon and most of the stars, so he didn’t have to worry about extraneous light. Adrenaline sharpened his senses to the sights and sounds of the night—the shrill rasp of crickets, the looping flight of a bat across the path of the porch light, the splash and gurgle of Oak Creek running behind the house.

  Setting each foot down carefully, he edged toward the light spilling from the double casement windows at the side of the house. At a rustling in the bushes next to him, he froze. A raccoon scampered out of hiding and headed for the creek. Adam’s armpits were damp and his pulse was faster than normal, but the concentration he’d learned in the jungle kept his movements steady.

  Just beyond the reach of the double rectangles of light was a cluster of several lichen-covered rocks. Gripping the rough surface, he eased himself up high enough to see inside the w
indow.

  Loren and her father stood with their backs to him, Walt’s arm around Loren’s shoulders. They remained stationary, as if waiting for something. Then in unison their heads swiveled toward the kitchen. Someone was coming. Adam forced his breath to a normal rhythm, to be ready for whatever happened.

  Haskett!

  In spite of his effort at control, he gasped. Haskett held the envelope. That’s why Loren had wanted it. For one mind-bending moment, he wondered if Haskett had bought her off. But if Loren could be bribed, then his world would collapse. There was some other reason.

  He checked for signs of a weapon, but Haskett seemed unarmed. Then Loren cried out, and only Walt’s restraining arm kept her from launching herself at Haskett. Adam balled his hands into fists. He wanted to go in there, but he’d have the advantage if he waited until Haskett came out.

  Loren and Walt were arguing loudly with Haskett, but Adam couldn’t understand what they were saying. Then Loren’s tone changed to pleading. Adam ground his teeth. Haskett would pay dearly for making Loren beg. And whatever she wanted, the bastard wasn’t giving an inch. Finally, Haskett shook his head and started toward the front of the house.

  Loren ran after him, grabbing his arm. He shook her off as if she were a pesky child. A murderous rage engulfed Adam, propelling him toward the front of the house. He reached the front steps just as Haskett came out the front door.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  WHEN LOREN HEARD an angry growl and Haskett’s cry of fear, she thought Haskett had been attacked by a bear. She ran to the front door just as Adam grabbed Haskett by his shirtfront and hurled him down the steps. The man lost his grip on the envelope and it skittered across the gravel driveway.

  “Adam!” she screamed just as his fist plowed into Haskett’s midsection.

  Haskett doubled over, but not soon enough to avoid Adam’s uppercut to his jaw. He crumpled to the ground. Adam hauled him to his feet and cocked his fist.

  “Adam, stop!” Loren hurtled down the steps, her father close behind.

  Adam glanced at them and back at the dazed Haskett.

  “Turn him loose,” Loren said on a sob. “They have Josh and Daphne.”