Copper Lake Encounter

by Marilyn Pappano

  An apologetic shrug accompanied her smile. “My mother wouldn’t allow it. She doesn’t have much patience with kids these days. But if I lived alone...I could. It would be hard to give them up again, but to be there when a vulnerable young child needs you... That would be worth the heartache.”

  He stepped in front of her, pivoted to face her, blocking her way, and stared down at her. For an instant she thought he was about to speak, but as he leaned nearer, she realized he was about to kiss her, and everything inside her went all giddy.

  The instant his mouth touched hers, she knew it had been way too long since she’d been kissed, and dear heavens, she’d never been kissed like this. His hands settled on her shoulders as he moved closer, until the heat radiating from his body wrapped around her. Eyes closed, lips parted, she swayed unsteadily and sought support, finding it in the hard planes of his body, sliding her hands to his waist. He was so solid, hard muscled, steady, and she wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go. Nothing bad could ever happen in his arms.

  His tongue slid inside her mouth, stroking languidly, and she gave a soft little whimper. Clinging to him, she breathed in the smells of him—cologne, spicy and clean; smoke, savory and sweet; and that crisp, strong scent that she associated with men. It was heady and appealing and dangerous and safe and addictive. Everything about him made her tremble, heated her blood, turned her needy.

  She was light-headed and lighthearted when a car full of teenage boys sped past, the driver honking, the passengers yelling out the windows. Ty ended the kiss, came back for another sweet, short moment and then straightened. She stared at him, wishing for velvety darkness, a private place, the sort of intimacy people wrote about, the sort she’d never experienced for herself.

  She thought, from the dazed shadows in his eyes, that he might be wishing for the same thing.

  Finally he raised his hand to touch her cheek, stroking gently down her jaw. A shiver rippled through her, hot and cold and oh, so delicious. “Nevaeh Wilson, where did you learn to kiss like that?”

  His voice was husky. She was afraid hers would be breathy and as quivery as a girl who’d just gotten her very first kiss. In a way, she had.

  “You probably didn’t know that my second job is breaking hearts all over Atlanta.” She did sound breathy, but she might have managed to make it seem intentional.

  “I believe that. I’m trusting you not to add mine to the list.”

  “As if I could.” It was an exhilarating thought, that she, the older, plainer, chunkier, duller sister of stunning Marieka, could break any man’s heart, but especially this one’s.

  “Oh, honey, you could.” He let go of her, and she missed the contact immediately, but as soon as he stepped back, he took her hand, and they started walking again.

  She wished they could walk forever. Let the sun disappear, let the moon rise and set, ignore the traffic and people and weather and everything else but each other. But they went only so far as across the street and the path leading to the gazebo. In silent agreement, they climbed the steps, and then she circled the space, her heels clunking on the wood floor, before taking a seat on one of the benches. “You have a lovely town.”

  “I like it.” He sat a few feet away, turning on the bench to face her. “You ever consider leaving Atlanta, Copper Lake has a lot to offer. It’s a great place to live, work, raise a family.”

  The idea of moving from Atlanta had never occurred to her until last night’s conversation with YaYa. Now, in less than twenty-four hours, it had come up twice. It made her a bit uneasy. Moving anywhere from the only home she’d had, even into an apartment a few blocks away, seemed momentous enough that she hadn’t done it yet. Moving away from everything familiar, from a major city to a small one, could set off every anxious nerve in her body. “Cities can be good, too.”

  “I know. I went to school in Athens. I like cities. I just prefer living here. I know everyone, and there’s not a block in town I’m not familiar with.”

  “And your grandfather is here.”

  He nodded. “That’s a big selling point. We’ve got lots of family here, so it’s not like he would be alone if I lived somewhere else, but... He’s such a big part of my life. I can’t imagine leaving him.”

  Nev envied that commitment. She loved YaYa more than anyone else in the world—even, she was reluctant to admit, her mother. Even though YaYa had encouraged her to consider it, could she move away from her? Wake up every morning knowing YaYa wasn’t in the kitchen having coffee and updating her Facebook page? Break for lunch and eat alone because she no longer shared a house with her grandmother? How lonely would that be?

  She gazed across the square, past flowers and trees, lights and traffic, to where the Gullah River meandered lazily on its way to the ocean. She listened to the faint whisper of wind in the leaves, dogs barking a few blocks away, laughter somewhere down the street, and she thought if she could live anywhere besides the house where she’d grown up, this might be the place. Even without YaYa. This place could be home...if the dreams stopped.

  But she’d had the first thirty-some dreams in Atlanta. Copper Lake was a part of the dreams. It wasn’t the cause.

  And Ty hadn’t issued an invitation. He’d just made a simple statement of the facts: Copper Lake was a good place to live. He liked her, sure. But how serious would he have to be to ask her to move here, and how long would that take?

  More than a few days. More than an entire week. When she went home, he would return to life as usual, dating other women, maybe even Kiki or pretty Sophy. He would forget about her. He might not be the one on vacation, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a vacation fling.

  “What are you looking so serious about?”

  She looked at him and, despite the regret inside, a smile automatically tugged at her lips. “I was thinking this is a perfect evening.”

  “Yeah. The humidity stays up, but at least the temperature drops a little, and there’s almost always a breeze coming off the river.” When she gave him a long, steady look, he suddenly chuckled. “You weren’t talking about the weather, huh? I agree. A good meal, nice weather and a beautiful woman. It couldn’t be more perfect.”

  He was a charmer and a flatterer. Marieka and her mother would be quick to point that out. Saying sweet things to people came naturally to him, just as critical and snide comments came naturally to them.

  YaYa, though, would say, The boy’s got good taste. Or We know his eyesight is 20-20.

  She turned to face him, legs crossed, her arm resting on the gazebo railing, her head against her palm. “What was your major in college?”

  “You really want to know?” At her nod, he grinned. “Accounting.”

  She tried to imagine him sitting at a desk all day, working with numbers instead of people, but the picture wouldn’t form. He was too active, too sociable, too—she made a silent apology to all the accountants in the world—darn sexy. “And what was the reasoning behind that?”

  Now it was his turn to gaze off across the square. “Actually, I did a double major, with criminal justice and accounting. I knew I wanted to live in Copper Lake, and I knew I might need something to fall back on in case the cop gig didn’t work out. I love this town, but it’s not as progressive as it could be. Even though I met all the qualifications for the police department, odds weren’t good that they would hire me. The first time I applied, I didn’t even get past the first interview. I waited awhile, some of the old-timers in the department retired, and when I applied again, I got the job. I was the first black officer ever hired here. Kiki was the first female officer. We’re also the first detectives in our respective minorities.”

  “Look at you. Paving the way for future generations.” Nev allowed herself a moment of pride and respect, both for Ty and, she was half-surprised to realize, for Kiki. It was hard to be first, to impress an instituti
on enough to persuade it to take an action it should have taken decades ago.

  “I hope so. A handful of my cousins’ kids say they want to be detectives when they grow up. Hopefully, their qualifications will be the deciding factor, not their skin color or gender.”

  “I’ll be your amen chorus.”

  “Yeah. I’m preaching to the choir, aren’t I?”

  “Well, sometimes if you sing the message loud enough, others will hear it.” In the silence that followed, a yawn escaped her, the big kind that squeezed shut her eyes and wrinkled up her entire face.

  Before she could apologize for it, he stood and offered his hand. “Come on. It’s been a long day. Let me take you back to the motel.”

  She let him help her up, her fingers tingling at the contact. “No rest for the weary, huh?”

  “I thought it was ‘no rest for the wicked.’”

  “Me? Wicked? YaYa’s sweet girl, Miss Nicey-Nice Nev, with the voice of an angel? Never.”

  “There’s a little bit of wicked in everyone. I bet I can find yours.”

  Just the thought started a tingle low in her stomach.

  They returned to his truck and, all too soon, reached the motel. All the spaces directly in front of the rooms were taken, so he parked in the next row over and, of course, got out to walk her to the door. She would expect nothing less from Mr. Obadiah’s boy.

  They’d covered half the distance when a rattle of sound came from the area of the cars, followed by a hiss. A tire going flat? Ty veered in that direction—toward her own car—and she followed.

  An instant later a head popped up between the cars. “Crap! Someone’s coming. Get outta here!”

  A flurry of activity exploded—cans hitting the ground, three kids bursting out of the shadows, tennis shoes pounding on pavement, Ty shouting, an engine revving around the corner. Ty gave chase, while all Nev could do was stand behind her beautiful little car and stare at the white squiggles that covered it.

  The slam of car doors and the squealing of tires registered dimly. She caught a glimpse of a mud-splattered vehicle racing through the parking lot, a snatch of Ty’s curse, a whiff of something antiseptically menthol, and she moved closer to the car to take a sniff. Her foot caught one of the discarded cans, and she glanced down at it and then bent over the trunk.

  Shaving cream. And her car wasn’t the only one. One on the left and two on the right were also decorated.

  “Damn Holigans,” Ty muttered as he returned to her side. He had his cell phone out, pressed to one ear.

  “How many of them are there in this town?”

  “Too many.” He shifted his attention from her as his call was answered. “Hey, Berniece, this is Ty Gadney. Can you send someone over to take a vandalism report at the Heart of Copper Lake Motel? We’ll be in the parking lot. Tell him I recognized Gavin and Kevin Holigan. I didn’t get a good look at the other two. Thanks.”

  “You don’t need to make a report on my behalf. It doesn’t appear they did any damage. I’ll just take it to the car wash.”

  He gave her a stern look and then shook his head. “Shaving cream. Neither one of them’s old enough to need it yet.”

  What were the boys doing out this late in the evening? Where were their parents? That was a question she didn’t want to ask. She felt sorrier for Daisy and Dahlia, and the other kids in their family, every time she thought of them.

  It took only a couple of minutes for an officer to arrive. He began taking Nev’s information while Ty went to the motel office to get the room numbers for the owners of the other vehicles. Three unhappy strangers joined them on the sidewalk, the older man in pajamas, the younger man looking as if he’d been interrupted at a very bad time—judging by the lipstick on his jaw and the disheveled state of his clothing—and a young woman who just looked annoyed.

  By the time the officer was finished and Nev and Ty had driven through the car wash and then returned to the motel, it was an hour past her usual bedtime. She was forcing back yawns as Ty walked her to the door.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “I needed to get the bugs off from the highway anyway.” She wrinkled her nose at the thought of bug guts on her baby. “Thank you for hanging around.”

  “Any time. See you tomorrow?”

  She nodded, and he kissed her, gently, sweetly, far too quickly, and then nudged her into the room. She closed the door, secured the chain and peeked out the curtain as he walked away.

  She went to bed a very happy woman.

  Chapter 6

  Monday night’s dream had been hazy and dark, filled with voices of people Nev couldn’t see and she couldn’t understand anything more than the tones: angry, scornful, mocking, pleading, frightened. The location was along the river but instead of the single stark tree, it was upriver, heavily wooded, with a cabin of some sort barely visible among the trees. Nev knew it was the Gullah River, though. She could feel it, smell it. It was as if the Gullah spoke to her on some deep, instinctual level, as if it had become a vital part of her life.

  As she put on makeup in the bathroom Tuesday morning, she considered that. She suspected the conversation the two nights before about her moving to Copper Lake had inspired the deep, instinctual stuff. Her subconscious was trying to manipulate her conscious into making a decision.

  “The only decision I’ve made,” she said to her reflection as she applied her eye makeup, “is to go to the newspaper office and/or the library this morning and find that article about Anamaria Duquesne. I got distracted by shopping, Sophy and the girls yesterday, which would be fine if I were really on vacation, but I’m not.”

  Though there’s no reason you can’t combine business with pleasure, the mirror Nev reflected. A lot of people do.

  She made a face at herself, and the smug reflection made it right back. Finishing with a dusting of powder and a spray of perfume, she picked up her bag and left the room. Her car shone bright and spotlessly in the morning sunshine. She was glad the kids hadn’t used the underage Holigans’ weapon of choice, according to Ty—spray paint—and wondered whether there had been any consequences to face when they eventually wandered home. Probably not. Poor things.

  Her first destination was a few blocks north, a deli across from the square that Ty recommended for breakfast. He’d shown her the newspaper office on their walk downtown, a block and a half farther north than she’d walked on her own, and the library, according to the guidebook in her room, was a few blocks from there. All within reasonable walking distance, if you didn’t account for the facts that she wasn’t accustomed to a lot of walking and the temperature was already eighty-four and climbing.

  She beeped the car and slid into the driver’s seat. Ty had sat there last night, and she had to slide it forward about eight inches to accommodate her shorter legs. A faint scent of him lingered in the air, stronger on the seat belt she fastened around her.

  It was eight-fifteen, and business at Ellie’s Deli was brisk in the front dining rooms. The hostess showed her to the back room, where most of the tables were empty, the noise level was lower and a wall of windows opened onto a kitchen garden that flourished with the humid heat. She ordered iced tea, two eggs over medium with sourdough toast and a bowl of fruit, and then she folded her hands on the table, wishing she’d remembered to bring something to read.

  One of the women at the table directly across the room from her stood, hugged the other, refilled her coffee and then disappeared into a door marked Kitchen. Ellie herself, maybe? Unless there was no Ellie, but the owner thought the name sounded better than Gertrude’s Deli or Dolly’s Deli.

  Nev catalogued the woman remaining at the table—young, mixed race, pretty, beautiful curls cascading over her shoulders—and then realized the woman had caught her staring, so she smiled, nodded and looked away. The only other diners in the room were an old
er pair of women, white-haired and wrinkled, looking enough alike to be sisters. They talked, smiled and touched each other often, and an occasional roar of laughter burst from them.

  Nev would love to imagine that sort of relationship with Marieka in their future, but it was easier to see herself growing wings and flying. That close, wonderful, horrible bond sisters were supposed to share had never been a part of their lives, and she doubted fifty years would be enough to create it.

  She was making a habit of getting too lost in her thoughts. The first clue she had that the woman across the room had moved was when she looked up and saw her standing a few feet away. She wore sandals and a long, full skirt of airy cotton, along with a skinny tank of the style Marieka preferred. Her curls were tied back in a ponytail with a scarf that picked up its yellow from the print of the skirt.

  She was no ordinary woman. Nev realized that in the same way she knew the unremarkable stretch of river in last night’s dream was the Gullah. And it wasn’t simply her breathtaking beauty.

  “My breakfast companion was needed in the kitchen. May I join you? My kids are at their grandmother’s this morning, and I hate to miss the chance to speak with someone whose vocabulary extends beyond no, I don’t want to, and why.”

  Nev gestured toward the three empty chairs. “Take your pick. I’m Nev Wilson.”

  After setting down her plate and coffee, the woman slid gracefully into the chair, spread her napkin over her lap and then reached out. “Anamaria Calloway.”

  Gooseflesh prickled on Nev’s arms. She took Anamaria’s hand, half expecting to get a tingle or shock or something, but all she felt was smooth skin, warmth and long delicate fingers beringed in gold and diamonds.

  “How do you like Copper Lake?”

  Nev watched the waitress set her meal in front of her. “It’s a pretty place.”

  “It’s not Atlanta or Savannah, but I love it. I hope the prank at the motel last night doesn’t negatively affect your opinion of us.”