The Other Side of Darkness

by Linda Rondeau

  Her face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. She must have returned from wherever the momentary detour had taken her. “Happens I like old movies.” Something not right…her changing her mind so fast, this euphoria, not natural for a person who’d lost as much as she had. A lot of people in Sam’s situation struggled with denial. This was deeper…more like escapism.

  “There’s a thirty-two inch, state-of-the-art television in my mother’s office she uses for conferences. We can bring it into the VIP lounge on the third floor or bring it into the large meeting room where there’s a fireplace. Gas fired, though, but still pretty to look at. We can pick up soda and popcorn at the pharmacy on the way.”

  Her gaze didn’t seem normal, either—too intense…too inviting. “I’d like that.”

  “So…um…what movie would you like to see? Twelve Angry Men?”

  Sam closed her eyes and groaned.

  “Sorry. I figured you’d like courtroom dramas.”

  Sam pushed half her spaghetti to one side. “My life is drama enough right now. I was thinking more along the lines of The Wizard of Oz. I feel a little like Dorothy Gale right now.”

  “What does that make me, the scarecrow, or the cowardly lion?”

  “I’m thinking Tin Man. You’re all heart, Zack.”

  Sadie brought in two long-stemmed goblets and sparkling grape juice. Zack answered Sam’s puzzled look. “I asked her to bring us something sparkly…to commemorate our first date.” He opened the bottle, filled the goblets, and raised his for a toast. “To your new life in Haven.”

  ****

  Sam managed to finish a quarter of her plate before surrendering. The spaghetti did taste other-worldly—better than any she had eaten in Manhattan, even Regaldi’s, a five-star Italian restaurant—the kind of place that had so many eating utensils, royalty wouldn’t know which fork was used for what.

  Sadie wheeled up a dessert cart. “What’ll it be? I got strawberry cheesecake, spumoni, lady fingers, or black forest cake.”

  “I’m sorry, Sadie. I couldn’t force another bite if you put a gun to my head.”

  “You didn’t eat a thing, Sam.” By Sadie’s standards, if you didn’t go for seconds you hardly touched your plate, and a quarter-portion meant you were starving to death. “I probably ate more tonight than I’ve eaten all week. Delicious. Are you sure you don’t want to open up a real restaurant? I’d back you.”

  Sadie’s brows furrowed. “Now don’t go tempting me, Sam.”

  “What’ll you have, Zack?”

  He squeezed Sam’s hand and sighed. “Not tonight, Aunt Sadie. Sam and I are taking in a movie, complete with popcorn and soda.”

  She bristled. “You’re passing on my homemade delicacies for store-bought popcorn?”

  She turned on her heels, wheeling the cart to the next table.

  Apparently, for Sadie, an empty plate and two desserts was the only satisfactory proof of a satisfied customer. “Did we just hurt her feelings?”

  “Maybe we can request black forest cake to go.” Zack went over to Sadie’s cart, kissed her on the cheek and returned with two wrapped pieces of cake. “Aunt Sadie’s happy now.”

  She turned and waved at Sam.

  They walked from the lounge toward the pharmacy, swinging hands like long-time lovers, exchanging tidbits about their favorite stars. After purchasing a package of movie popcorn and a six-pack of root beer, they continued on their way to the library while singing the theme to The Wizard of Oz. She mused at the spring in her step and the warm flush in her cheeks as they hip-hopped their way down their own yellow-brick road of waiting romance. Would it be as sweet as its anticipation?

  Within minutes, Zack had the lounge resembling a private theater, complete with soft lighting and a warm glow from the fireplace. The hyacinths in the Gladstone mural over the mantel danced in rhythm to the crackling flames. Sam sat on the settee, sinking deep in its luxury, and Zack slipped in the disc then joined her, flipping up his foot rest. “There’s one on your side, too. Now what movie theater would give you this much comfort and privacy?”

  They exchanged laughter, trading trivia until the flying monkeys zoomed toward the unsuspecting Dorothy. “This part always gives me the willies,” she said.

  He put his right arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything hurt you.” No doubt, he could banish celluloid threats, but there was no heart big enough to deflect the knives thrown at her today. No home. No job. No purpose. No reason to keep on living.

  The heat from the fire and the subdued lights made her drowsy. She yawned and rested her head on Zack’s shoulder, and he brought her in tight against him. She wanted, needed to be cradled, to feel loved, secure, and Zack seemed more than willing to be her rock, her rest. His eyes said permanency, something she could count on. Could she put her life-long ambition aside, start fresh as Abe suggested?

  Zack nudged her. “Hey, sleeping beauty, the movie’s almost over.”

  “There’s no place like home,” Glenda said, and Sam rubbed the back of her neck, warm and knotted. Tomorrow’s reality loomed too near. No matter how many times she clicked ruby red slippers, she could never return to Kansas. Even if by some miracle, Abe managed to get her reinstated, nothing would ever be as it was.

  “I enjoyed the evening Zack, but it’s time to call it a night. I’m exhausted.”

  His smile shredded with his sigh.

  How patient could she expect him to be? She’d toyed with his affection, using him to fill her need, selfishly ignoring his.

  “What can I do to help with the big move?”

  “I have one smelly pilot case, a tote, an armful of hang up clothes, a purse, and a laptop. Hardly a monumental task.”

  “I hoped to see you. Let me do something.”

  Time to be the woman, Sam, and let Zack be the man. “I thought I’d go to Glens Falls in the morning and pick up a few supplies. I could use some muscle to move furniture around if you don’t mind coming over after work tomorrow. Jonathan might be an artist, but his sense of interior design is the pits.”

  “Consider it a date.”

  “Some date, but I did have a good time tonight, Zack.”

  He kissed her. “It doesn’t have to end.”

  No, it didn’t. Nor did she truly want it to. She returned his kiss, then backed away. “Yes, it does.”

  He searched her eyes, probably looking for solid ground between them, and she couldn’t even offer him a shoal. “Zack, I like being with you, but—”

  “I sense an awfully big but coming.”

  “I’m still not sure what all of this means.”

  “All?”

  “You and me.”

  “We don’t have to have it figured out ahead of time, Sam. We can just let it unfold as we go along.”

  She kissed him lightly on the lips. He returned her kiss with far more passion than she could sort out at this late hour. “Let’s take this slow.”

  He lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. “I think you know how I feel about you, Sam, but take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Apparently, neither am I.”

  “I imagine at this point, you feel a little trapped in Oz, with no Glenda to help you get home. You’re smart, Sam, and tough. You’ll figure it out.”

  Would she? Right now her future was as uncertain as Dorothy’s dark forest. Lions and tigers and bears threatened Sam at every turn. “Until I do, I don’t want us to get someplace we can’t get back from. Does that make any sense?”

  “No. I think that’s tired, talking. Don’t analyze your feelings too much. Sometimes, you just have to trust them. Come on. I’ll straighten up later. Let’s get you to the Lighthouse. You look beat.”

  They strolled hand in hand underneath a playful moon and a cascade of smoky clouds. When they reached the Lighthouse, Zack kissed her on the forehead, and she felt his awkwardness, his uncertainty. If this thing between them, whatever it was, didn’t work the way he hoped, w
hat then? He stepped into her path like that moose, out of nowhere, lethally innocent.

  “Good night, Zack.” She rushed up the steps. There. They’d had a date. Did she want another?

  Yes.

  She booted her laptop to check for messages.

  Two.

  She clicked on the one from Justine: How did the date go? Details.

  The second from HSenterprises. Sam’s stomach rose to her throat as she read the message. Leave your light on.

  Scare tactics.

  Sam shook off the uneasiness and turned on the television, channel surfing for a comedy re-run or something mild to keep her mind off Styles. She chided herself for letting Styles’s threats get to her, and surfed a little more, stopping when she heard the news bulletin: Two ambulance drivers killed during a convicted felon’s escape…”

  31

  Sam trembled, the phone’s ring, as ominous as Styles’s email. Should she answer it? What if it were Styles? Ridiculous, the ring tone was merely an echo of her fear. She gathered her courage and picked it up on the fifth ring. Abe’s shaky, rushed voice alarmed her even more, the last person she wanted to have a midnight chat with.

  “Sam, sorry to call at this hour, but I thought you should know that Styles is on the lam.”

  Anger regurgitated with her half-digested popcorn and soda. “I saw the news alert, but isn’t he your problem, now?”

  “I deserve that. We have reason to believe he’s heading toward Haven. Every cop in the area is looking for him. I called to see if you wanted protection.”

  “From what? He’s all hot air. He’s probably in Canada by now.”

  “His hot air got two ambulance drivers killed.”

  “I hope you’re satisfied. Shortcuts never work, Abe, and you’re the one who taught me that.”

  “Now’s not the time for a debate over our philosophical differences.”

  Her body shook with rage. If Styles was after her, it was Abe’s fault. He should have left that piece of crap in jail where he belonged. “I’ll be fine. If it makes you happy, I’ll look both ways before I cross the street. Besides, if he’s going after anyone, it’d be Brenda. I heard she ran out on him as soon as his cell door slammed.”

  Abe hesitated. “A plausible theory, Counselor, but we have Reginald Styles in custody, and he told us Harlan blamed you for Brenda leaving him.”

  The weak always blamed the strong for their troubles. “You’re making too much of this, Abe. Brenda’s going to camp where she can find the most bling. Styles might be trying to find her and convince her to skip the country with him.”

  “Sam, I know you’re still mad at me,” his voice mellow, weak, thin, as if he’d aged ten years since this afternoon, “but don’t let your anger affect your judgment. I can have a cop at your door in fifteen minutes.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. You’ve done enough to ruin my life. I won’t be coddled. If I hid under the covers over every threat, I’d never get out of bed.” She hung up, but the disconnect did little to satiate her rage.

  She put on her night clothes then turned on every light. She sniffed the vase of fresh hyacinths. Underneath was a note from Sadie: Jonathan brought these by after you left with Zack and said he’d see you tomorrow.

  Sam played a few games of solitaire on her computer then rechecked her email, one from Justine: I need to know how many columns and pews there are in that church so I can figure out how many bows I’ll need. I know Sadie could do the decorating, but Mother wants to at least decorate the church. Be a doll and find out for me?

  Like that’s all Sam had to do with her time, count pews and columns. In truth, the diversion might be helpful, but Justine didn’t need to know that. Sam hit reply: I’ll check it out tomorrow. BTW, I do have a life here, you know.

  She turned on the television, and settled for a marathon of I Love Lucy—Lucy stomping the grapes in her anger at the master stomper…Lucy punch-drunk on a vitamin elixir…Lucy, the redhead...

  ****

  In the dream, Harlan Styles stood next to her bed, wielding a knife. Then Daddy joined Styles. “I’m in hell, and it’s your fault.”

  She sat up with loud moans, drenched in sweat while tears streamed down her face, staring at Guinevere, who laughed from her spot on the wall. Wildflowers waved with the rippling curtains. Sam rose and closed the window, and the shadows behaved.

  A knock and a worried inquiry. “Sam. Sam. Are you all right?”

  She opened the door. Flannel striped pajamas, blended with an opened, blue terry-cloth robe and moccasins, glided toward her like Glenda in the bubble. Leon held a bouquet of fresh hyacinths. “Maybe these will help. Oh, I see you already have some. Zack dropped this bouquet off late last night after you had already gone to bed, so I promised to give these to you at breakfast. When I heard you crying, I got worried.”

  She buried her face in their scent, then stuffed them into the vase with Jonathan’s. “Another bad dream.”

  “You seem to have a lot of them. You should talk to Doc Hensen.”

  “No. It’s just that I have a lot on my mind.”

  “It’s six o’clock. Want to go down for an early breakfast?”

  “But it’s too cold to traipse around in Tracey’s baby-doll pajamas.”

  Leon dashed to his room and came back with a brown terry robe. “It’s not pretty, but it’ll keep you warm. You’re trembling.”

  “Thanks.” She wrapped herself in Leon’s offering, its hem encircling her ankles.

  “I don’t have an extra set of slippers, but you can’t go around barefoot in this cold, either. Follow me.” Leon led her to his room and fished out a pair of navy blue argyle socks.

  “And they match!” Sam put on the socks and stretched her toes. “Thanks. Very comfortable.”

  They paraded downstairs, Leon’s borrowed robe trailing behind, a king and a princess in terrycloth and argyle. The clamor of pots and pans echoed through the lounge. Sadie came in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a polka-dotted apron. “Poor Sam. Couldn’t sleep, again? Coffee?”

  Leon and Sam both nodded. Sadie disappeared into the kitchen and returned with three mugs and an urn. “Just finished brewing. Muffins are still in the oven. If you’re hungry, I can make some toast.”

  Leon shook his head. “Coffee’s fine. I’d rather you sit a spell with us. I worry about you, Sadie. You do too much.”

  She waved an objection. “Keeps me out of mischief, don’t you know. Besides, Aaron’s already gone fishing. Doc picked him up about an hour ago.” Sadie poured the coffee and handed Sam and Leon their mugs. “So, Sam, today’s a big day for you. Is that why you couldn’t sleep?”

  “Could be.”

  Sadie winked. “And Zack Bordeaux, too?”

  Sam blushed.

  “Nicest boy in Washington County, if you want my opinion, even if he is a relative by marriage.”

  Sadie passed Leon the milk and sugar then she rested her elbows on the table and took a sip before tilting her head to one side, peering at Sam. “I think it’s great you’re representing Jonathan Gladstone and that he’s staying in Haven. Can’t find answers to your problems by running away from them. Right, Leon?”

  He took a sip and waved his cup in the air. “Got that right, Sadie.”

  Sam ignored the indictment. “Jonathan has the guesthouse stocked, but mostly for the fishermen. I plan to go to Glens Falls this morning and purchase a few things to hold me over until I can figure out what to do next.”

  Sadie put her mug on the table, her gaze motherly. “Should you be running around on your own with that Styles’s feller on the loose? Maybe you should wait until school is out. Zack would be happy to take you.”

  “Thanks for your concern, but I don’t think Styles is after me. If he’s out to get anybody, it’d be his former girlfriend.”

  Sadie took another sip and clicked like Justine when she was about to rip a sermon. “I hear a bit of anger in your voice, dear. If you don’t mind my saying so, sometime
s when things go other than the way we planned, we get mad at everybody in the world except where most of the blame sets…right inside ourselves.”

  Not like Sadie to point a finger.

  “I suppose it’s more my fault than anyone else’s. If I’d been in Manhattan, hadn’t handed the case over, maybe those ambulance drivers would still be alive.”

  “I can’t read your boss’s mind, but I’m sure he did what he thought best for everybody. I know you don’t agree with his actions, but putting yourself at risk to get even don’t make no sense. It’s not a sign of weakness to accept a little help now and again.”

  Nor was it like Sadie to preach. Yet, Sadie’s counsel, laced with love, was easier to digest than Justine’s condemnations.

  Sam stood. “Thanks for the advice, but please don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll catch Styles before the sun rises. I think I’ll go up to my room and pack up what belongings I have. When I get back from shopping, I need to stop at the church. Justine wants to know how many columns and pews there are. Do you know, Sadie?”

  She squeezed one eye shut as if calculating. “Well now, I never counted them before.”

  Sam started toward the steps. “Are you coming up now, Leon?”

  “Think I’ll stay here a mite and finish this good coffee. You can keep the robe, if you want. Don’t need it, and it gets mighty cold in that cabin, so Aaron says.”

  “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

  “You sure you want to be there all by yourself?”

  “I’ll be fine, Leon, don’t worry.”

  “Who’s going to rescue you from your nightmares?”

  Yes, who? “My father died when I was twelve—my mother a few months after my father. I went to live with a great aunt who slept away most of her days. She died during my freshman year at Columbia. I’m used to being on my own.”

  Leon squished his eyebrows together, forming one straight line across his brow. “If you say so, but you seem to shake a whole, big bunch after one of those nightmares. No wonder you sleep with a light on.”

  “Leon, I’m not afraid of anything. Least of all the dark.” She lied. “I slept with a light on when I was a kid. Guess the habit carried through into adulthood.”