by Ann Charles
Crud. I could really use someone to talk to right now, somebody who could help me forget about my problems long enough to catch a little more shuteye. I hesitated in front of my bedroom door, thinking of Aunt Zoe sleeping two doors down. I hated to wake her up, though. She’d looked so tired when she’d come in late after the first night of Oktoberfest. I wondered how much of it was due to a lack of sleep since that fight with Reid. Lately, she and I’d been wearing matching red-rimmed eyes in the mornings. She didn’t talk about why, and I hadn’t asked … yet.
I slumped onto the bed, wondering if Natalie were awake yet down in Arizona. Probably not since she was with her cousins who liked to hang out at the bar into the wee hours.
I pulled up Doc’s number, hesitated, and then hit the Call button.
It rang five times. “Violet?” his voice sounded rough.
“Were you sleeping?” What a dumb question. I’d already heard the answer in his voice.
“Are you okay?” he asked back.
“Yes.” I touched my teeth. One seemed to wiggle a smidgeon. “I think.”
“What time is it?”
“Early.”
“Are your kids okay?”
“Yeah.” I scrubbed some sleep from my eye. “I just …” needed to hear your voice, “I had a nightmare.”
There was a pause from his end. “Kyrkozz, Wolfgang, or Caly?”
“It was Prudence this time.” I actually couldn’t remember the details, only her face leaning over mine and the feeling of my teeth being tugged on. “She’d come to collect my canines.”
“You want me to come over?”
“No, you might wake up Aunt Zoe and the kids.”
“You could come over here.”
“Harvey’s on your couch again.” Last night, the old goat had informed me that was where he’d be in case I needed my bodyguard. “He sleeps like a new mother.”
I knew from experience that Harvey woke at the mere swish of a sock brushing over the carpet. There was no sneaking past him in the middle of the night for a leftover steak, a few spoonfuls of ice cream, or the bottle of tequila I kept above the fridge.
“I noticed that about him. What can I do to help?”
“Talk to me.”
“Okay.” I heard his bed creak and imagined snuggling up to him on his soft sheets. “Do you want to talk about Prudence and her weird messages?”
“Not really.”
“Then tell me something about you,” he said.
Besides the fact that I’d fallen head over heels for him and lately had begun to daydream about a gold ring, a layered cake, and a long white dress?
“Something from your past that I don’t know,” he added.
“You go first.” That gave me time to come up with something other than my usual boring tales of family drama, unwed pregnancy, and shitty jobs. What I didn’t know about him could keep us chatting for weeks.
He cleared his throat. “Let’s see … I worked in a garage during college.”
“You mean as a mechanic?”
“Yes. My grandfather taught me all about engines while I was growing up. He considered the hours we spent in his shop as part of my vocational education while he was homeschooling me. He’s the one who got me hooked on Detroit muscle and steel.”
“You enjoyed it?”
“Very much. Tinkering with engines is relaxing, and the times spent with my grandfather are some of my favorite memories.”
My throat constricted a little for him, knowing what I did about his childhood.
“By the time I finished college,” he continued, “the owner of the garage had become a good friend. Actually, he was more like an uncle to me. He helped me fix up my car.”
“You mean your Camaro SS?”
“Yep.”
He’d had that car since college and it still looked that good? Maybe he shouldn’t let my kids ride in it anymore. Their ability to cause mass destruction with only their fingers was legendary.
“Have you stayed in contact with the garage owner?”
“He’s dead.”
I plucked at a loose string edging my pillowcase. “I’m sorry.”
“I haven’t tried to look him up since I heard the news.”
Did Doc mean the guy’s ghost? “Can you do that?”
His chuckle sounded husky with sleep yet. “I was kidding, Violet. Your turn now.”
I leaned back against my headboard, weeding through my past. There were a lot of thistles and dandelions growing there, quite a few brambles, too, but none had the emotional level of what Doc had shared. I didn’t want him to feel shortchanged because I wanted him to keep telling me more, to open the Book of Doc even wider.
Then I remembered something that might appeal to him. “I have an irrational fear of rune casting.”
“Did you say rune casting?”
“Yes, as in the casting of runes to figure out the path one is taking and the likely outcome. My grandma-great is to blame. Casting her runes was part of her daily routine.”
“Was she into tarot card reading, too?”
“Nope, just runes. She carried them in a little pouch made of some kind of soft leather—I think it was deer skin, maybe rabbit. They were made of bone, worn smooth on the edges with small cracks throughout.” I could still envision them as clearly as when I was a child watching her yellowed fingernails as they clacked against them. “She said they’d ‘sing’ to her.”
I remembered her telling me that one day when I found her kneeling on her attic floor next to the runes. The memory of her tired, lined face in the morning sunlight appeared in my mind, fresh as when it had happened. Her watery eyes had locked on me, widening, then returned to the stones that were spread on a black piece of cloth she also carried folded in her pouch. She picked the stones up as I stood there and put them back in her pouch, muttered something under her breath, and cast them again. Her frown dragged her wrinkles downward when her focus landed on me again.
“Why do you fear them?” Doc pulled me back to present day. “I didn’t think runes were used for fortune telling. That they were more of a prediction, and you could change the outcome if you veered your current path.”
“How do you know about runes?”
“I read a lot.”
“I noticed.” Just like Layne. If my son could ever get past his worry about another man stealing his place in my heart, I had a feeling he and Doc would be as thick as thieves.
“Especially about topics having to do with the supernatural, mysterious, paranormal, or magical,” Doc said.
Of course he did, with his history. I should have figured he’d know as much about runes as I did. Probably more.
“So what happened that caused you to fear them?” he prodded. “Was it something to do with your path back then?”
“No, my path was always boring according to her reading of the runes—I’d continue to go to school, learn as much as I could, and be a good girl.” That was what she told me, anyway, when I was younger and would ask her to cast the runes for me.
I closed my eyes, thinking back again to that morning in her attic. I could still smell the old varnish and stale air. Dust particles had danced in the sun, orbiting the crown of her head, reminding me of Saturn’s rings, which we’d recently learned about in school. “She scared me off runes when it came to her path,” I told Doc.
“What do you mean?”
“She told me one day when I’d walked in on her reading the runes that every time I was in the room with her while she cast them, the same rune would appear in a negative position.”
“Merkstave.”
“Yeah, I think some people call it that.” It had been a while since I thought about my father’s and Aunt Zoe’s grandmother. She’d always seemed so very, very old with her craggy face and dull silver hair.
“Did she say which rune or what its position meant?” Doc pressed.
“She showed me once. The rune reminded me of an old telephone pole, or a capital Y with
a third line going up through the center. Sort of like a fork. I can’t remember the name of it.”
“And what was her take on the meaning of it showing up in Merkstave?”
“She said it showed hidden danger surrounding me. Once she even mentioned that she’d catch a whiff of death in the air for a second or two right when the rune stone was cast. She took both signs as warnings.”
“Warnings about what?”
“Me. I was a threat to her.”
“You were a kid.”
“I know, but she always watched me closely with a guarded look in her eyes. After a while, I started to feel uneasy around her and began making excuses not to visit her or my grandmother when I knew Grandma-great would be there.”
One time, my mother begged me to go, resorting to bribery, telling me that my dad’s family was accusing her of keeping me from them. I knew she would never understand my reasoning, so I didn’t try to explain my steadfastness. To this day, she still groused about my stubbornness and how I took after my father and his family.
“I never told my dad or Aunt Zoe this, but I was relieved when she died. She had grown so creepy as her arthritis crippled her. I can still see her hands, gnarled and claw-like as she cast the runes.” I shuddered at the memory and burrowed under the blanket.
“Whatever happened to her pouch of rune stones?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen them since. I figured Grandma buried them with her mother.” I tried to remember if Aunt Zoe had ever mentioned the rune stones but nothing popped into my memory. However, something recent resurfaced. “I guess I shouldn’t have been so surprised to find out Grandma-great taught Aunt Zoe how to read and write Latin.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Maybe she was some kind of sorceress.”
“So you’ve never had anyone else cast rune stones in your company?”
“Nope. In college, some of the girls would play with tarot cards, palm reading, or rune stones. I’d always leave. I’d had enough of that hocus pocus stuff as a kid.”
“Is that why you hooked up with Rex back then?” he asked. “Because he was a scientist—all black and white logic and the practical application of theories?”
“Maybe. I remember thinking how steady and down-to-earth he was.” I laughed with a good dose of sarcasm at reality. “But then my crazy world caught up with us and I rubbed off on him.” I pursed my lips, contemplating Rex’s actions back then from a different perspective. “You know, now that I think about it, I shouldn’t have been surprised he ran away from me and my babies. He was used to a much more staid, non-dramatic life. Then I blew in like a prairie dust-devil and probably scared the hell out of him.”
Doc chuckled. “You certainly discombobulated me from the moment you threw yourself at my feet.”
“Hey! No low blows before sunrise.”
“I meant that in a good way.”
“Yeah, right. And I didn’t throw myself at your feet. I fell.” Over his damned boxes of books.
“Like an angel from heaven.” The mirth in his voice came through the line clear as could be, along with his chuckles.
“More like a klutzy girl from next door.”
I smiled at the memory of our first meeting. I’d taken one look at those books and figured conversations with Doc would be boring as hell. Boy, had I been wrong there.
“No, not klutzy. Stunning and sexy. You knocked the wind out of me.”
“Now you’re kissing up so that I’ll bring my purple boots over to your bedroom again sometime soon.”
“It’s the truth, I swear.” His laughter warmed me inside and out. “You still spin me all around, Violet, but I’m not running anywhere.” His tone had a serious note in it that made me feel all sparkly inside. “I like feeling flummoxed when it comes to you.”
You say that now, I thought, but what about when you get tired of me and my … I shook my head and jammed that worry into a closet way back in my brain, slamming the door and leaning against it for good measure.
I opted for humor rather than throwing myself at his feet and begging him never to leave me. “Good, because I’d hate to have to hunt you down and drag you back here if you decided to run off, but I will. I know where Aunt Zoe keeps the log chains and padlocks.”
“What? No rack or iron maiden for me?”
“No way. I like to stare at your body too much to mar it. It’d be a life of sexual slavery for you, Mr. Nyce.”
“I’m your huckleberry, but only if I get to pick your dominatrix outfits. I’ve put some serious thought into this many a long, lonely night.” His voice had a huskiness that made my nether regions pulse and tickle.
I grinned at the ceiling. “I don’t know if you can handle my whip. Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“Sure. Stop by my office this afternoon and I’ll give you a demonstration.”
There was nothing I’d like more except I had a feeling reality wasn’t going to allow that to happen. “That may be tough. I promised Addy and Layne I’d take them to the wiener dog races at the festival.” I yawned in silence, blinking away a sudden heaviness in my eyelids.
“You’re not going in to work?”
“Jerry rewarded my good behavior with the television people by granting me a Saturday off.” I was hoping to make it a foursome with Doc as part of our little family group, but he’d told me last night he had several client appointments throughout the day.
“What about your ex?” Doc asked. “Doesn’t he want to see more places today?”
“Nothing was mentioned about another appointment before Cooper led him away.”
“Exactly why did Cooper lead him away? You left that detail out yesterday.”
Oh, fudgesicles. I’d forgotten that Doc didn’t know that Cooper had already learned all about Rex a couple of months ago. I wasn’t sure how this information was going to go over for Doc, but I hoped it didn’t end up with him grinding his teeth at me for keeping secrets. Who knew Rex wasn’t going to just blow away in the breeze again and instead actually show up on my doorstep?
Or rather across the street from my doorstep, the asshole.
I took a big breath and let ‘er rip. “Actually, Cooper’s part in this started back when Harvey found the headless dead guy who was palming my business card. You remember when I told you about Cooper informing me that the dead guy had a message about Aunt Zoe and me on his cell phone? And then I threw up on Cooper’s tie?” I didn’t wait for a response from Doc. “It turned out the message came from Rex’s cell phone. After Cooper tracked it down, he asked me who Rex was. When I told him the bastard was the father of my children, I asked Cooper to keep that to himself, which he did.” Cooper might inspire a lot of cursing and stomping from me, but he was trustworthy. I’d appreciated that particular personality trait of his in this case. “Yesterday afternoon, when I called to tip Cooper about Rex being in town, he met us in the parking lot behind Calamity Jane’s and insisted the jerk go to the station to answer some questions. You and I both know how good Cooper is at strong-arming to get his way.”
Whew! There, I had spread everything out on the table. I chewed on my knuckles, waiting to see how Doc reacted.
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me regarding Rex intruding into your life since you moved to Deadwood?” I couldn’t read anything into his tone, which seemed as steady and level as always.
I hesitated, yawning again while pondering his question. I wanted to make sure I hadn’t forgotten something before I told him there was nothing else. Then I remembered an important tidbit. “Maybe.”
“What else, Violet?” There was an obvious growl in his voice.
Ah ha! There was the frustration I’d been wincing about while waiting for it to surface. I was glad to know he was human after all when it came to dealing with an ex. If the situation were reversed, I’d have been wheezing days ago from the jealousy ogre clamping down on my lungs.
“Just one more thing, I swear,” I told him.
“I’m all ears.”
>
“I recently found out that the owner of the black Jaguar sharing Miss Geary’s garage lately is Rex. He’s her young stallion.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“No. I saw their breakup yesterday morning before heading to work. Miss Geary has a wicked swing.”
A long bout of silence came from his end.
Had I lost the connection? “Doc?”
“Do you mean to tell me that son of a bitch has been spying on you and your kids from your neighbor’s front door?”
“Yes, and her bedroom window. But now that he’s done sowing his wild oats in her field,” oh lordy, Jeff Wymonds was rubbing off on me, “Rex needs a place to rent, so he came to me.”
“Ahh, fuck. This just keeps getting better.”
I grimaced at the static of irritation scratching his voice. Doc wasn’t one for much swearing, at least not in front of me. His lack of filter this morning said a lot.
“Doc, I’m sorry about all of this Rex crap.”
Why did Rex have to come back now, when I’d finally started getting my life together and had found someone who was ten times the man Rex ever was?
“Don’t apologize for that piece of shit, Violet. You’re not responsible for his actions.”
If I could wish Rex away with an eyelash, I’d pluck every one and go around with bald lids to make sure he stayed gone for good this time.
“So is this spying game of his the reason you slammed a cupboard door into his face?”
“Mostly.” We didn’t need to get into the details of Rex wanting to warm my sheets again.
Doc grunted.
I wasn’t sure what that meant in regards to my admission. I needed to get a caveman dictionary. I thought about asking him to define his grunt, but didn’t want to push him at the moment. My unwarranted anxiety about Doc washing his hands of me and my multitude of ever-growing problems kept me in check, as usual.
“Are you sure you didn’t break Rex’s nose?” Doc asked.