by Renee Roszel
“You’ll never guess—never in a trillion years—who’s here!”
He lifted his eyes for divine guidance. “Nordie, just tell me.”
She threw her arms wide. “Cammie! Cammie’s come back!”
“Camille? Carl’s—”
“Yes! Yes!” Nordie motioned for someone to come forward, whispering loudly. “Come on, Cam. Cotter won’t bite you.”
Camille Rathem Hunt stepped into the doorway as Nordie and Ike backed out of her way. She smiled tentatively at Cotter and, with a nervous gesture, tossed her long, red hair back over her shoulder. She seemed paler than he remembered, and a little thicker around the middle. The round face was drawn, and her light blue eyes were wary, even frightened. His frown faded, and he felt compassion overcome his anger. With a nod and a small smile, he stood up. “Hello, Cammie. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
She relaxed visibly with his unreproachful greeting, her smile growing stronger. “I’ve come to get Carl, Cotter. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since I left—nearly three months’ worth. And I have a lot more to think about.” A sheen of guilty tears glistened in her eyes, and she pressed a handkerchief to her nose. “When he was disabled I panicked, you know?”
She paused, watching Cotter for a response. He nodded again. “I know. We all did.”
Wiping at her eyes, she went on. “But yesterday, I talked to the doctor, and he said Carl’s got a good chance to get back on his feet if he wants to. And if we work as a team, he can be walking that much faster.” She put a hand on Carl’s shoulder, and Cotter watched as Carl’s hand moved up to cover it. “I’m going to need him to get on his feet as fast as he can.”
Carl turned to look questioningly up at her.
She knelt beside him, lifting her arms to his neck. Barely above a whisper, she said, “I want you to be able to wheel me and our baby out of the hospital this Christmas.”
“A baby…” Carl repeated.
The quiet that followed Cammie’s announcement was solemn and heartfelt. No one dared interrupt the tacit promises that Cammie was making to her husband. They had obviously taken time to evolve, and the drama of the moment touched Cotter deeply.
The thump of a door beyond the pantry and the sound of Raine’s beach scuffs broke the silence as she pushed through the pantry door from the kitchen. “Well, here they are…” She let the words die away, realizing that something very important was happening. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt…?”
Nordie clapped her hands together. “I’ll say! I just found out I’m going to be an aunt.” She gestured toward Cammie, who was coming to her feet. “Raine, meet Camille, Carl’s wife. She’s—” Nordie shrugged, glancing at Carl “—been away for a while, visiting her folks in Virginia, but now she’s back.”
Raine smiled at the fragile-looking redhead, surprised to see how young she was, probably only a year or so older than Nordie. “Well, that’s wonderful news. I’m so happy for you both.” She moved up beside Ike, handing him the bag of marshmallows.
Cammie pushed her hair back and smiled. “Thank you. I’m happy too…. We have a lot of work ahead of us, though.”
Carl reached out and took her hand in his. “It’s nothing we can’t handle.” Raine marveled at the new glitter of life in Carl’s eyes as he gazed up at his wife, his face full of emotion. “I’d better get you home and take care of you.” He motioned toward Nordie, and with a laugh that was completely unfamiliar to Raine, he said, “We’ve got to be going—Cammie and I have some packing to do. And tomorrow we’ve got to hire a cook so we can get back to our house in town.”
“I’ll take him. It’s my turn.” Cammie brushed Nordie’s hands away from the handlebars. “Whatever you say, Carl.”
She turned him around, and they headed off toward Carl’s room. Raine was filled with the feeling of relief and hope for Carl and Cammie as she watched them leave together. What he’d needed was the continued support of his wife. It was reassuring to see that love could do more than hurt.
“Well.” Ike draped his arm about Raine’s shoulders. “That’s marvelous.” He squeezed her arm. “You about ready to go?”
Raine’s eyes flicked to Cotter’s face as she nodded her assent. She thought she had seen a spark of some dark emotion dash across his eyes with Ike’s question, but she could have imagined it. His expression seemed placid enough as he watched Carl and Cammie disappear into Carl’s room.
“Okay.”
Ike led her toward the door. “See you folks later.”
Nordie teased. “You two got any matches for a fire or are those marshmallows just a red herring to throw us off the scent of what you’re really up to?”
Ike winked and laughed. Cotter sat down and poured himself another glass of wine.
“Well.” Nordie stretched. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed soon. You, Cotter?”
“In a while,” he muttered, lifting the glass to his lips.
“It’s late. The guys have already turned in.” She looked around, apparently checking to see if Raine and Ike were gone. She then tiptoed over to Cotter. “Say, don’t you love the way Professor Webber and that good-looking cop are getting along? I mean, now that Carl’s got Cammie back, don’t you think it’s great that she has a real live boyfriend?”
“You can’t imagine how pleased I am,” he muttered into his glass.
“And I feel totally responsible!” Oblivious to his glare, she leaned her hip on the table. “And you wanna know what I think? I think they’re going to make it work, too. Isn’t that exciting? My very own Professor Webber, with that fantastic-looking hunk.”
Cotter shot to his feet, slamming his palms down on the table. The thunderous slap of his hands reverberated loudly in the quiet house. “I’m going to bed,” he announced, barely above a whisper. With one long stride he stepped around Nordie and headed for the door.
“Cotter?” Nordie hurried after him, taking his hand. “What’s with you lately? You bite everybody’s head off for no good reason. I’ve never seen you so wound up.”
“Nothing’s with me.” He inhaled slowly to compose himself, turning to meet her inquiring gaze. “I’m just tired. Okay?”
She cocked her head, squinting at him as though she didn’t believe him. “Okay, so don’t tell me.” She let go of his hand, patting his arm as she offered gently, “Go to bed and have sweet dreams.”
He thought of his own bed; thought of the last three nights, and the dreams he’d sweated through. He’d imagined a woman with short brown hair and huge, appealing eyes. She’d been wearing a suit of armor that looked strangely like a pair of pajamas—and there was a self-satisfied cop who kept appearing out of nowhere to carry her off into a mist, winking at Cotter over his shoulder. By no stretch of the imagination could those dreams have been categorized as “sweet.” Unwilling to share his thoughts, Cotter pivoted away from his sister and strode out of the room.
DRIFTWOOD, DRY REEDS AND STICKS made a nice fire. It flickered and danced in the slight breeze as Raine shook her head at Ike’s offer of another marshmallow. “No.” She smiled, putting a hand on her stomach. “I’ve had plenty. Thanks.”
He sat back on the thick patch of cranberry vines and rested on his elbows. “I’ve had enough, too, I guess.” She could only make him out dimly as he looked around. “It sure is pretty here. Must be great to own a place on the ocean.”
Raine shrugged noncommittally. “I’m sure it is.” She wasn’t particularly interested in the conversation, and her mind wandered to Ike’s inconsistent behavior these past three days. When they were around other people, he acted as if he were absolutely smitten with her. But as soon as they were alone together, his manner changed, and he behaved more like a companion on a plane trip, chatting casually about any mundane subject just to pass the time. So far, they’d covered the weather in June versus the weather in September; current movies and their relative merit; a variety of sports events—apparently any insignificant topic that came to his mind would do.
“You do?” He seemed surprised, and she winced, wondering what he’d asked. He picked one of the cranberry plant’s blossoms, a small, pink flower, and examined it closely. “I don’t think it looks like a crane’s head at all. Maybe I don’t have enough imagination. Oh, well…” He tossed it carelessly into the breeze, sat up and twisted a knot in the top of the marshmallow bag.
Raine breathed a sigh of relief. He’d just been questioning the etymology of the word “cranberry.” She didn’t care if it came from “crane” or “football”; the issue wasn’t a vivid one for her. Shifting her gaze toward the fire, she noticed the last flames were flickering out.
“Well, I guess we’d better get back,” he said and he bounded athletically to his feet. “You look like you’re getting a little chilled.”
She wasn’t. But she pulled her sweater closer about her shoulders and acquiesced silently as he helped her up.
“It was a nice, peaceful weekend. But tomorrow’s another workday.”
Raine agreed with a nod. “I hope, for the police investigation’s sake, we find something useful soon.”
He shrugged his husky shoulders as they walked. “Maybe there isn’t anything to find. Maybe this guy’s not guilty. It happens.”
She considered that. “But, I thought…”
“Oh—” Ike shook his head, but continued to look ahead “—I believe he is. Don’t get me wrong. And I want to be the guy to get him. We’ll find something.”
Raine heard a strange undertone of malice in his voice that made her turn to him, surprised. He seemed to be looking at something deep within himself, his expression self-absorbed. She lifted a questioning brow. This Ike Noonan was a curious, complex man. She would have given a lot to know what was on his mind at that moment, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to ask.
Once inside the house, Raine flicked the switch that set the alarm system. One dim light had been left on at the top of the stairs. She felt an odd sadness clutch at her throat and couldn’t face dragging herself up to her dark, lonely room. Looking for an excuse, she caught sight of the half-full sack of marshmallows. “Oh—” she took it from Ike’s hand “—I’ll just put these away. You go on up.”
He seemed at ease with the idea and grinned at her. “Okay. See you tomorrow. Bright and early.”
Her smile wasn’t as strong. “Bright and early. Good night.” Making a hasty exit, she passed the formal living room and hurried down the hall and into the kitchen. She was not particularly surprised to see light seeping out from beneath the door. Hanna usually left a light on, so Raine didn’t expect to find anyone there.
She pushed the door open, and a pair of dark eyes met hers. They were so hard, so unyielding, that she almost left at once.
“Evening.” Unsmiling, Cotter took a bite of his sandwich before laying it down on a plate.
She swallowed, pulling her lips between her teeth. “I’ll just—” she walked forward far enough to lay the marshmallows on the table, planning a hasty exit “—I’ll just leave these and go…”
He swallowed the bite. “Have a nice time?”
“Yes.” It was such a low whisper that she barely heard it. She doubted that he’d heard it at all.
“Good.” He favored her with a doubtful half smile.
His chair scraped along the wood floor as he abruptly stood up. “How were the marshmallows?” As he clinched his robe more tightly at the waist, his eyes dropped to the bag on the table. “Or did you just dump them in the fire for the effect?”
Her gaze flitted from his face to the table. She was confused and annoyed now. What possible effect could she achieve by dumping a half bag of marshmallows into a fire? She pressed the back of her wrist to the bridge of her glasses, pushing them into place, repeating the word without comprehension. “Effect?”
“Never mind,” he replied, as dark, angry eyes did a critical survey of her body. Without another word, he bent down to pick up his plate and crossed to the sink.
She felt a flare of resentment. He had no right to be rude to her. Maybe she wasn’t what he wanted in a woman, but that wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know what sophisticated, experienced women like Anona knew, but she certainly hadn’t pretended to. She had gone to Cotter on her own terms. It wasn’t fair that Cotter blamed her and stalked around like a wounded animal, just because she hadn’t been visibly hurt after his rejection of her. She clenched her fists tightly.
She felt uncomfortable with her own anger but lifted a proud chin to quell the trembling of her lips. “Cotter…” She was surprised to discover that her voice was firm. She paused, not quite knowing how to articulate what she wanted to say. When the silence weighed between them, he turned back to face her.
“Yes?” He eyed her doubtfully.
“I don’t like being at odds and I don’t intend to fight with you. But I want the air cleared between us,” she began carefully. “I don’t understand why you’re acting this way. I’ve done nothing—” she cringed inwardly at the phrase and the way it came out, like a confession, but she forced herself to go on “—nothing to hurt you. You’re acting like a spoiled child, and I don’t think that’s fair.”
His eyes flashed and he allowed his emotions to show—his features became beautiful, yet fearsome. A muscle began to pulse in his jaw, but he said nothing. She saw a pained sort of contempt in his eyes as they raked over her, and it stung. His mouth tightened and he dropped his gaze as he turned his back on her. With an irritated flick of his wrist, he turned on the water. “However, Ike got what he expected, no doubt.” His bitter remark was filled with scorn. It was evident by the set of his shoulders that she had been dismissed.
She stared blankly at the rhythmic movement of his shoulders as Cotter washed the plate and put it on the counter. Ike? What did he have to do with this? She frowned in thought. Then, as she absorbed his meaning, a new, unforeseen fury exploded in her. She finally understood what he’d meant by “effect.” He was implying that she and Ike had made love!
Her expression of rage came out like a wildcat’s growl, making Cotter swing back, to see her stalking toward him. “Why you egotist! You feel hurt, so you want to hurt and embarrass me! But I have news for you, Cotter. You’ve misjudged me…and it isn’t going to work.”
He raised his hand to ward off her anger. For the second time that evening he had arrived at the absolute wrong conclusion—instead of slapping him, she stomped on his bare foot, wishing her sandal had football cleats. Shocked by her attack, Cotter leaned against the counter and stifled a moan as Raine marched from the kitchen.
Chapter Nine
After a painful moment, Cotter looked toward the kitchen door. It was still swinging slightly on its hinges where Raine had pushed through. He sat down and, with great care, lowered his throbbing foot to the floor, bending forward to lean heavily on his forearms.
Closing his eyes, he recalled the sounds of light laughter and contented murmurings he’d heard from Carl’s room when he’d passed by earlier. He should have been happy for Carl, and he planned to be, tomorrow. But, right now, the memory of those intimate sounds made him uneasy. Why? Certainly he wasn’t jealous of his brother’s situation—jealous that Carl had a wife who loved him, no matter what? It was true that Cammie had left Carl, but she had been very young and frightened when Carl got hurt. Now she was back, and it looked as though she had
made the decision to stay and to help her husband.
He ran his hands through his hair and looked down at the tabletop. Raine’s face flashed in his mind, and immediately after hers came the image of Ike’s. He banged his fist on the table. “Hell!” he muttered.
The door swung open. “You called?” Nordie poked her head in and smiled. “Hi. Can’t you sleep, either?”
He frowned.
She giggled. “Oh, good. You’re glad to see me.” She walked inside, letting go of the door. “Want to share a little leftover duck?” Tugging at the tie of her red silk robe, she headed for the industrial-size refrigerator. “I don’t know why I’m hungry. I had plenty at dinner. But I just got this craving for some duck and a glass of grape soda.”
He grimaced, his eyes following her. “Are you out of your mind?”
She laughed, her back to him as she fished around in the refrigerator. “Darling brother, I’m crazy like a fox.” She pulled out the platter of duck and a can of soda. “Want some?”
He shook his head.
She set the plate down on the table and flipped the can open. It hissed and sprayed him. “Oops. Sorry.” She pulled out a chair. “Why are you up?”
He eyed her warily, replying, “I can’t sleep. And you?”
She picked up a piece of duck and waved it around. “It’s the noise coming from Carl’s room. All that heavy breathing.” She rolled her eyes.
Cotter exhaled slowly. “Is nothing sacred with you?”
“Guess not.” The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile as she took a swallow of her soda.
He looked away, not wanting to dwell on the subject of Carl.
“Speaking of love—” she was munching on another bite of duck “—I passed Professor Webber in the hall. Boy, was she flushed! You wanna bet why?”
He returned her look. When there eyes met, she winked. “The cop and the professor did it. Don’t you think?”