by Anna del Mar
He inspected my knuckles. “How’s your hand?”
“Fine.”
“Good,” he said. “Let’s go home.”
“I can’t,” I said. “I should stay with Louise tonight.”
Seth’s jaw tightened. “I was afraid you were going to say something like that.”
“There’s a lot of expensive china in this house,” I said. “Who knows what kind of trouble Louise will get into if I’m not around?”
“You’re not her babysitter.”
“What other option do I have?”
The door to Louise’s bedroom cracked open to reveal her face and an apologetic grin. “How about you go sleep with the boy and let your old stepmom do her thing?”
“Oh, lord.” I sighed. “Didn’t we agree that listening to other people’s conversations behind closed doors was a bad habit?”
“Sure,” Louise said. “But I still like to do it.”
I gave Seth a cursory look. Did I have the fortitude to face his anger tonight?
“We’ll both stay here tonight,” he decided, making no allowances for disagreement, texting on his cell as he spoke. “I’ll have Robert send someone to fetch our things and I’ll leave directly from here to Juneau tomorrow. You can be close by in case of a china emergency.”
“Sounds peachy.” Louise reached out with her scrawny arm and pinched Seth’s cheek. “Smart and cute. Watch the temper, handsome, will ya? My girl is like an Easter cream egg, a hard shell outside, but all sweet and gooey inside.”
I stomped my foot. “Louise!”
“Good night.” She waved as she closed the door.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Welcome to Silvaland.”
“Thanks.” Seth started down the hallway. “Now we’re even.”
* * *
I followed Seth to what used to be his old bedroom. Decorated in tones of blue, it was as posh and luxurious as the rest of the house. A bad feeling weighed me down as we entered the room. I was exhausted and I didn’t know how else to apologize. I didn’t know what Seth was thinking, but by the stern tilt of his mouth, I figured it was nothing good.
I gasped when he took off his coat. Blood blotched the back of his shirt. “You’re bleeding!”
“It’s nothing.” He shrugged, but I lifted the back of his shirt and examined his back.
“It’s that stubborn spot that won’t heal.” Damn Alex and his vitriol. “It looks like it got torn in the fight. You should’ve told me you were hurting. We could’ve had Stuart take a look.”
“I’m fine.” He marched into the bathroom.
“You’re not fine.” I followed him. “You should see a doctor.”
“Not necessary.” He closed the door on me.
I knew how he felt about doctors. I also knew how he felt about other people looking at his scars. But he had to be hurting and I worried a lot about infection. The sound of the shower echoed from the bathroom. I was certain that the water coming out of the faucets flowed cold as ice.
He took a long time in the shower. He had to be burning in addition to hurting. Robert arrived, along with a steward who helped carry our things, laptops, and essentials. I thanked Robert and retrieved what I needed from Seth’s carry-on. Then I changed for bed and waited some more.
When Seth finally came out of the bathroom, he wore pajama pants, hanging low on his hips. The shiner around his eye had darkened, but the swelling had actually gone down. He looked tired. I had the prescription ointment in my hand and a new silicone patch laid out on the night table. He gave the stuff a surly look.
“Please?” I said.
Without a word, he stretched belly down on the bed. I knelt on the mattress next to him and examined his back. The blood was gone now, but the lesion was ripped open and larger than before. I cursed under my breath. I should’ve socked Alex harder.
I dabbed on the medicine as gingerly as possible, cringing when he flinched. I placed a new silicone patch and applied some lotion over the scars on his back, trying to warm his cold skin and knead the tension that knotted his muscles.
“Summer?” he said while I worked on him. “We’ve got to have a serious talk.”
My heart froze. My hands stilled over his shoulder blades. I knew what he was going to say. What I’d done tonight was unforgivable. I’d upset his grandmother. Meddled in his family’s affairs. Endangered him and his friends. Messed up a really great night, possibly the best of my life.
I knew he must have other complaints, worries that haunted me too. My stepmother had to figure highly among them. She’d made such a racket. And the vase she broke. I had no idea how I was going to pay for it. Maybe Astrid would take me on as an indentured servant. God, what a mess. Tears swelled in my eyes. There were many, many reasons why this couldn’t work out. Tonight was only one more.
“Summer?” He craned his neck to look at me. “Are you listening?”
“I’m listening,” I said in a strangled voice. “Do you want me to leave?”
“Leave?” He flipped over and sat up, smearing lotion all over the bedcovers and the upholstered headboard. The scowl on his face iced my guts. “Why the hell would I want you to leave?”
“Because you haven’t said much since the fight with Alex.” The pitch in my voice rose steadily. “Because I come from a crazy family and I’m not Alaska-suitable. Because I started the fight with Alex and upset your grandmother. Because I’m a freak of nature and I walk in my sleep. Because things are moving too fast, things have gotten too intense, and you’ve had enough of me.”
“Jesus Christ.” He huffed and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving strands standing up like raised hackles. “Where do I begin to unravel all that crap? First, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you all night with all these people around. Second, you didn’t start that fight with Alex. It started a long while back, way before you were even on the horizon. Third, you’re not a freak of nature and I don’t give a rat’s ass if you walk in your sleep. It’s the rest of the stuff you said that really pisses me off. If you think we’re moving too fast, then that’s on you. Don’t put it on me.”
“You have to admit it.” I stared at my hands. “It’s a little unreal.”
“Fine, I admit it.” He got up from the bed and began to pace the room. “It happened real fast. But I can’t control the way I feel. In fact, I can’t help it. I don’t know how to slow this down, and frankly, I don’t want to. So what if it’s too fast or intense? Does it scare the shit out of me sometimes? Yes. Do I want to end it? No. Do you want to end it?”
I swallowed a dry gulp. “No.”
“Then this discussion is over.” He sat next to me and hugged me against his chest. “You’re not leaving and that’s final.”
My head ached. I buzzed with all kinds of emotions. I don’t know what happened to me. The tears caught me by surprise. They just popped out of my eyes like hot kernels. I dipped my face in my hands and cried, because so much had happened in so little time and the emotions overwhelmed me.
“Oh, shit, don’t cry, Summer.” Seth gathered me on his lap, frantically kissing my forehead, my nose, my wet cheeks. “If I said something wrong, hit me over the head, take a hammer to my laptop, do whatever you want, but please, baby, don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry.” I curled in his lap. “I don’t seem able to stop right now. But Seth...my stepmother,” I hiccupped. “She broke a freaking Ming vase!”
“Forget about the stupid vase,” he said. “It’s nothing. It wasn’t a real Ming. Okay? Just...stop crying...please? Hell, tell me what you need and I’ll get it done. I’m about to crap my pants over here.”
“I’m fine.” I took in a deep breath. “This is just emotion...fear...frustration. I came to Alaska to find Tammy. I haven’t found her, but instead I found you. I wasn’t expecting you. I hadn’t planned on you.”
<
br /> “I know.”
“I’m an architect.” I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes. “I design things. Buildings. Lives. It’s what I do. But this, this didn’t happen by design. It’s just...a lot.”
“Hush, baby.” He lifted me gingerly, undid the bed covers and deposited me on the crisp sheets and against the pillows. “You’re just tired and today was stressful all around.”
He tucked me in and turned off the lights, so that only the glow of the fire illuminated the room. He settled next to me and gathered me in his arms. I laid my head on his shoulder and trailed my fingers over his skin, drawing little patterns over his chest.
“I know the concert ended badly but...”
“But what?”
“I’m going to remember tonight for the rest of my life. The lighthouse. The concert. The whale. Remember the whale?” I sniffed and gave out a little laugh. “It was fantastic. Oh, and I’ll never forget making out under the stage under Battle Dragons. Many years from now, when I tell my grandchildren about today, I’m going to blow their minds. They’re going to think I’m the coolest Grandma ever.”
Seth’s laughter rumbled against my ear. “It was a good day. I had fun too. I had fun because you were with me.”
My heart soared, because the night’s troubles hadn’t eclipsed the day’s gains.
I remembered something else. “Seth?”
“Hmm-hmm?”
“What did you want to talk to me about in the first place?”
“Oh, that.” His chest rose and fell beneath my cheek. “You’ve had enough for one day. Maybe we should wait until tomorrow.”
“Oh, come on.” I cupped his chin and, meeting his gaze, cajoled him with a pout. “Now, Erickson.”
“Okay, fine.” His Adam’s apple bounced as he cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about us, Summer, not just today, but for the last few days.”
My body tensed in his arms. “Uh-oh.”
“Just relax and listen to what I have to say,” he said, his fingers pleasantly raking through my hair. “Please?”
“Okay.” If he kept on scratching my head, I’d listen forever.
“It was unbearable.”
“What was unbearable?”
“The time I had to spend away from you. When I went to Prudhoe Bay? It was excruciating.” His fingers rubbed against my scalp. “I’d rather be shot down again.”
“Don’t say things like that.”
“It’s true.” His hand stilled on my head. “You’ve got a right to your life. I get that. I know you love what you do and where you live. I’m not supposed to tell you what to do or how to go about your life, but I want you to think about what I’m saying.”
“What exactly is it that I’m thinking about?”
“I’m not asking you to change, or to give up on the things you want,” he said. “But we’re going to have to do something differently, because I can’t bear the thought of you leaving and I don’t want to live my life away from you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I watched Summer set the blankets aside and get up. The fire illuminated her figure as her feet padded quietly on the plush carpet on her way to the door. I sprang from the bed, beat her to the door, and blocked it. Eyes wide and translucent, she turned around and moved on to try the bathroom door.
I should’ve expected trouble tonight. The stress of the day had created the right kind of scenario. Combine all that with fatigue and you had all the elements that precipitated Summer’s sleepwalking episodes. It was precisely what I’d been trying to avoid all along.
I blocked her path to the bathroom, placed a hand on her shoulder and pointed her in the direction of the bed. She turned around again and went for the door as if I wasn’t standing right there.
“I have to find her,” she said.
“Not tonight,” I said. “You need to go back to bed.”
She hesitated on her feet, then went about the room. Should I wake her up? The doctor had said that waking a sleepwalker wasn’t a good idea, so I followed her.
Her face wore a blank expression. Her feet glided on the floor. She moved as she did when she was awake, with grace and purpose. The blood curdled in my veins when she tested a window next. Had I not been there to anticipate her moves, she would’ve been outside by now.
She looked around the room, past me. Her gaze fell on the desk, where her laptop idled. She stared at the laptop for a while, then her knees flexed and she sat on the chair. Plop. Her fingers landed on her keyboard. She began to type prodigiously fast, calling up complex formulas and design specifications, applying her calculations to the architectural designs popping up on her screen with mind-blowing speed.
I stood behind her and called out softly. “Summer?”
She didn’t answer. Her behavior seemed different from the last time, more focused, more concentrated and less interactive. I suddenly wished I had Dr. Sanchez on speed dial. I tried talking to Summer, but it was as if she couldn’t hear me.
“Summer, baby, don’t you want to go back to bed?”
No reply. The minutes ticked by. I sat with her, but she didn’t seem to be aware of my presence. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her lips looked dry. She was completely caught in what she was doing.
“Baby,” I finally said. “Tell me what’s going on. Tell me what you’re doing.”
Her fingers didn’t stop typing, but her eyes considered me briefly.
“The tundra’s delicate ecosystem is susceptible to temperature changes,” she said in a flat monotone. “Temperature changes melt the permafrost, destabilizing structural foundations. Self-regulating pylons inspired by the ones in your house will support a solid structural framework that, designed to the correct specifications, will bear the living and working compounds.”
I gawked at the blueprints popping on her screen. “Summer, this is brilliant.” She’d designed a smart pylon while she slept. The doctor had mentioned a case where a sleepwalker, a mathematician by trade, had solved complex problems in her sleep, but this was extraordinary. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it happen with my own two eyes.
But even with the pylon solution at hand, Summer kept at it, snared in some sort of sleepwalking rage, working herself to oblivion. Exhaustion etched her face. I had to do something.
“Summer,” I said in a firmer tone. “You need to stop. Now.”
Her fingers froze on the keyboard. Her hands dropped to her lap. Her head fell forward and her eyelids drooped. I realized she hadn’t listened to me when I talked to her normally, but she had followed my commands.
Commands?
Summer would follow instructions, but only when she was asleep?
I tested my new hypothesis. “Summer, get up, please.”
To my amazement, she pushed back on the chair and stood up.
“Go to the bed,” I said and she did just so. “Get under the covers.” I guided her gently. “That’s it. Good.”
I tucked her in, kissed her forehead and lay down next to her. Her eyes were open and fixed on the ceiling. I reviewed the night’s lessons in my mind. She was as persistent in her sleep as she was when awake. She was prone to working frenzies while sleepwalking. She could engineer design solutions in her dreams and work herself to oblivion. She followed directions. The realization made me feel queasy. Would she follow anyone’s directions?
“Summer?” I turned on my side and, propping myself up on my elbow, faced her. “I’m going to ask you some questions and you will answer them. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” She fixed her gaze on me, pupils huge, green speckled irises translucent, ethereal and haunted.
“Have you always followed instructions when you sleepwalk?”
One shoulder came up, a fragile, uncertain shrug that reminded me s
he remembered nothing of her sleepwalking episodes and hated herself for it. “Daddy said I did. So did Louise. And Tammy.”
“Did anyone else know?”
Both shoulders rose from the pillow this time around, a reluctant gesture that combined with her lips’ subtle downturn set off my alarms.
“Well?” I insisted. “Who else knew?”
“Sergio.”
Son of a bitch. Sergio De Havilland, her ex-husband. The bile roiled in my stomach. My mind churned, remembering everything I’d learned about the dirtbag and the times his name had come up in my conversations with Summer. You will not mention his name in my presence ever again, she’d said that first day when we drove to Anya’s place. For all I care, he’s dead, she’d added later when I pressed her. No love lost there. The dots began to connect.
Sergio must have known about her condition. Whether she told him about all that it entailed or whether he found out on his own, it didn’t matter. By Summer’s own admission, he also knew she followed instructions while she sleepwalked. That kind of power didn’t belong to scum like De Havilland. Instead of helping her to cope, he must have betrayed her trust. How?
Summer never spoke of him. There was a good chance she never would. I felt like a miserable worm, but I needed to know.
“I’m really sorry to have to ask you this,” I said, stroking her hair. “Did your ex Sergio take advantage of you while you were sleepwalking?”
Her eyes went instantly liquid. “Yes.”
My guts melted at the sight of her tears. “When?”
“When we were in college,” she said, reluctantly.
This conversation was hard for her, even in her sleep. It was hard for me too. What I had to ask next was even harder.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I was always careful,” she murmured. “He lived in my dorm. I had a single with a door chain. We started dating, but I didn’t want to sleep with him, not yet. I warned him about my problem. But one night, there was a party. He slipped something in my drink. I woke up two days later in his dorm room.”
The sadness I spotted in her eyes launched a new surge of rage blazing through my veins. From my research, I knew that many drugs exacerbated sleepwalking episodes. Sergio must have used that knowledge to make her helpless and even more vulnerable.