I am running, flying over cool grass in bare feet, my chest filled with crisp air and elation. A quick glance over my shoulder tells me he’s close, but that’s the idea. I’m fast. No one in the village can catch me, not even him. Unless I let him. But not until we reach the long shadows of the oaks, the blanket of samhain leaves.
Beneath the branches, darkness silvered by a full moon, a moon to take your heart. I slow. He tumbles me to the ground laughing. Our tunics slide away. His skin is warm where it touches mine. The grass cool, the leaves deep. We have promised each other forever. He is heavy between my legs. Never a burden. I arch to meet him. He is mine.
The jangle of the phone jarred me awake. I flailed my arms as if buried in a pile of leaves, the sharp scent of earth caught in my nose. My body felt lush and taut with desire, my breathing too quick. I strained for release. The ringing stopped before I could answer. William put a paw on me, and I shook my head to clear it.
What the hell?
My day returned, and I sank into my pillow, calming myself with a deep breath. Outside, the red-gold light of a summer sunset evoked the dream, and I gave myself a mental shake. My dreams were rarely so vivid and never so sensuous. There was a connection between this and the earlier vision of smoke and burning, but how did I know that? The memory brought me up short. I didn’t like flames, didn’t own a candle, never used the fireplace. I’d been that way since a child and never questioned it.
What was happening to me? Had the combination of being laid off and getting mugged sent me over the edge? I decided I’d slept enough for one day and started to get up.
William turned to the bedroom door with a low growl as it opened, and Gabe stuck his head in.
“Sorry about the phone,” he said.
I guess I wasn’t fully awake yet, but I couldn’t figure out why this man was still in my house or why he was apologizing for my phone ringing.
“I tried to grab it—”
I held up one hand to stop him and soothed William with the other.
“Didn’t I throw you out earlier?” I still felt drowsy and hot and aroused. And very conflicted. The logical me felt indignant, but an unfamiliar primal me wanted to jump his bones. “Don’t you have someplace to go?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. I immediately regretted my tone. There I was, being ungrateful again. But what had happened to privacy?
“Sorry,” I said. “It’s been a day. Can you give me a minute?”
After he closed the door behind him, I turned to William. He had one lip caught on his fang and looked so goofy I had to laugh. “Did I thank you for saving me today?” He yawned, and I ruffled his ears and kissed him. “Why is Mr. all-the-archangels Fagen hanging around, eh boy?” William shook his head, making his ears flop loudly. “And why does it make me feel cheerful instead of annoyed? Who am I?”
The big dog dropped to his side and stretched, pushing his paws against me. I rubbed his belly and he sighed. If he wasn’t concerned, I wasn’t going to worry about it. His instincts were better than mine.
A short while later, after banishing the strange dream with a liberal splash of cold water on my face, swapping my sweats for jeans, and taking William out, I sat down to a plate of grilled salmon, new potatoes, and asparagus. Gabe had brought it over from Mrs. Spangler’s and kept it warm for me. He’d even set the table. I found it hard to stay mad at him, difficult not to like him, and impossible not to be attracted to him. Especially in my unsated condition.
“I couldn’t find any candles,” he said.
Fire. Screaming. Smoke. Choking.
I swallowed a rising panic.
You can’t ignore these things forever, Stephanie…
Okay, I thought I’d banished the vision and the dream. But they weren’t easy to shake. I’d felt the heat of the flames, coughed from the smoke, and known a man making me his own. William rose from where he’d tucked himself into the easy chair, came over to me, and licked my hand when I put it down to stroke his head.
“I don’t have any candles.”
Gabe stared at me a moment like he was deciding whether to say something about that, but didn’t comment.
I searched for another subject. “And here I thought work was all there was,” I said over my glass of pinot noir. Not the best choice with fish, but I always preferred red, and it was all I had. He’d dined earlier with Mrs. Spangler and Mr. Weinperth, but she’d provided him with seconds so I wouldn’t have to eat alone. “I think I’ve been missing out.”
My handyman grinned like he knew a secret. “You have,” he said.
My stomach did that ridiculous little flip again. Geez, what was I, seventeen? I was far too easy, too tired, or just plain crazy if I could throw a man out of my house in the morning then have dinner with him the same night. A man I scarcely knew. Even so, he felt familiar and made me comfortable.
I’d been glad he’d been there when the policewoman brought me home. Even though I had tossed him out in a rage, he hadn’t hesitated to help. But seeing as how I was questioning my sanity every other moment, I didn’t know if I could rely on what I was feeling. Still, my mother had trusted him, and that weighed heavily in his favor.
“What do you do when you’re not working?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I have a boat. A cabin at the lake. I fish. Read. Swim. Hike. Take a longer trip every now and again.”
“With anyone in particular?” The words escaped before I’d barely thought them. Who did I think I was? But he only chuckled.
“No, by myself mostly.” He took a drink of wine. “Sometimes my buddy John comes, when he can get away, but then he complains about missing his wife and kids. Sometimes they all come.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It’s noisy.”
“You like it quiet.”
“Yeah, mostly. What about you?”
My turn to take a fortifying drink. “Me?”
“Ever do anything for fun with anyone in particular?”
“I work. Or I did. There hasn’t been time for anyone in particular. You don’t have anyone in particular in your life?” It seemed important to nail this down.
“No.”
“Ever?”
“Married, once, for about six months.”
“She must have tired of your incessant chatter.”
He laughed. “She tired of my empty bank account the moment she emptied it.”
“Oh, sorry.”
He rose to clear our plates.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I’ll get it later.”
He deposited the dishes in the sink and returned to his seat. I liked that. I hated it when someone insisted on clearing up instead of sitting and chatting. Dirty dishes could wait. Conversations like this…okay, maybe it wasn’t the most scintillating conversation I’d ever had, but it did feel comfortable. Usually, I was out to dinner in a restaurant, either by myself or with clients, pasting on the smile and toeing the company line.
“You ever had anyone particular in your life?” he asked.
Seemed like it was important for him to nail down this fact about me, too. Good. I thought back. “Didn’t even go to prom.”
He snorted. “I did. Wore a tux and everything. Waste of time.”
“The dance or the tux?”
“Both. We didn’t dance. We weren’t even dating. I hardly knew her.”
He glanced out the window and smiled. Fondly remembering? But no, the smile was too grim for that. The sun had gone down, leaving us in the almost dark of twilight, robbing the room and his face of color.
“There was someone else I wanted to ask, but she didn’t know I was alive.”
In the chiaroscuro shades of dove, slate, and silver that had overtaken us, the angles of his face stood out in stark relief, making him appear younger. Or perhaps it had been the statement and raw vulnerability it brought to his features. A vague memory stirred, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“I find it hard to believe there was a wom
an who didn’t know you were alive.”
“Believe it.”
“She must have been dead.”
He didn’t say anything to that, and I held his gaze even though the intensity of it made me squirm. “I wanted to go to the prom, or on a date,” I continued. “There was this one guy…I was…I thought I was completely in love.” I waved my hand at that sentimental notion and forced a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “But I was too shy to talk to him.”
Gabe leaned his elbows on the table, his eyes never straying from mine. “What was he like?”
Now, why did he need to know that? But I was in a strange mood, and sharing this intimacy didn’t faze me. A sure sign of my mental decline.
“Oh, he was cute, of course.” I pictured the young man who had held my heart. “Kind of kept to himself. But there was just something about him, you know?” Gabe nodded. “Every time I got near him I’d go all fluttery inside and lose my voice. I was afraid if I opened my mouth I would croak like a frog.”
One corner of his mouth lifted, but his voice remained sober. “You were in school with him?”
“No, he worked for my mother once in a while. That’s the only time I saw him.” I played with my napkin, folding it until perfectly square, remembering those glorious days like yesterday. “I’d watch him from my window while he pulled weeds or mowed, always hoping it would get hot enough for him to take off his shirt.”
A nervous giggle escaped my lips, and I covered it with a gulp of wine. William rooted under my elbow, seeking—offering?—reassurance. I scratched him under the chin, thankful for the distraction. Gabe emptied his glass, refilled it, and drank again.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Again, that niggling sense of the familiar pricked me. It was his profile, I decided.
“This kid have a name?” he asked.
I stacked my hands over my heart like a swooning teenager. “Oh, yes, it was perfect,” I gushed in a deliberately breathy tone. “Ridiculously romantic.”
He sat very still, looking at me expectantly, and inside, I felt a pendulum swoosh from one extreme of its range to the other. There was a vital piece of information I was supposed to know, a vital something I’d missed. I grabbed a handful of William’s wiry coat to steady myself.
“Rafe,” I said after a moment. With a little click, the missing piece fell into place. “My mother called him Rafe.”
Chapter 6
The Man, The Dog, His Owner & Her Lover, a Witting Woman novella Page 5