For All of Her Life

by Heather Graham

  “The safety is on, but I’m delighted that you’re concerned about my anatomy.”

  “Jordan—”

  “Let’s get some sleep, Kathy, huh?”

  He suddenly sounded not just tired but bone weary. Beyond all tension. He set the gun on the nightstand on the left side of the bed, and lay down, casting an arm over his eyes. She stared at him a long moment. He seemed oblivious to her.

  After deciding that she would sleep better with him in the room, she started across the room to her bed.

  “Check the door,” he said. She paused, both irritated and glad that he had heard her near silent, barefoot step.

  She did as he asked and then crawled in beside him.

  He lay on his side. She lay on hers. Silent.

  At length she whispered. “Jordan, who was it?”

  “I don’t know. And I don’t know why she—”

  “Or he!”

  “Right. Was running across the patio. And yet...”

  “Yet?”

  “I think we’re somehow closer.”

  “Sure,” Kathy agreed dubiously.

  “Let’s get some sleep. We can’t afford to be exhausted.”

  “Right.”

  “Good night.”

  “Yeah. Good night.” She lay down. Sat back up. “Jordan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re not going to shoot me with that thing by mistake?”

  “Or on purpose,” he said dryly.

  “Not amusing.”

  “Not meant to be. Kathy—”

  “I know. I know. I’m going to sleep.”

  Once again, she lay back down. She stared at the ceiling. She felt him, not touching her, beside her.

  After a while, she was amazed to realize that her eyes were closing, the tension was easing from her body. It was better with him here. She did feel secure. There might be a maniacal killer in the house, but she felt more secure. She slept. Deeply.

  Very deeply. And dreamed.

  She was somewhere cool, a place where soft, sweet breezes caressed her body. She lay in comfort, deep within the down of clouds. Delicate wings brushed her flesh, smoothed her hair, slowly, sensuously...

  Hmmm. Wings. Like hell.

  Hands...

  Great hands. Masculine, seductive, long fingered. Gentle one second, more demanding the next. Atop the satin of her nightgown, beneath it. Her flesh felt like fire.

  She wasn’t going to move, wasn’t going to fall for this. Wasn’t going to allow him...

  Oh, God. That touch. Against her naked flesh. Insistent. A touch again, a thrust. His hands, his body, in her, on her. Her breasts. His body. Seeking... finding. Moving...

  Ummm, she was going to fall...

  Oh, God, she was a damned rock; she’d fallen in a plummeting whirl, incredibly awake and aware, on fire with sensation, hungry for him, startled, awed. Glad to have him spooned around her, hands holding her taut to his tempo, his breath against her nape, his lips, his whisper, his movement, harder and harder against her, inside of her...

  She bit into her knuckles rather than shriek out when the drenching sweetness of climax suddenly burst upon her. For seconds she felt nothing but the bliss of stars exploding within her, then she became aware of him, one last frantic movement, a surge of heat...

  He kissed her neck. Without a word, eased himself onto his back.

  She stared into the night.

  Hmmm. Go to sleep, Kathy. Right. Great. He’d seduced her in that sleep, taken her swiftly from behind...

  And gone back to sleep.

  Hell.

  What did he think?

  That they were married or something?

  She should have thrown him right out of the bed—if one could throw Jordan. She should have shouted, protested.

  Instead, she smiled slightly. Fool. Well, she was glad to have him and his bedside pistol.

  And other things.

  She slept again. Like a baby. And for the moment, it just didn’t matter if she was a fool or not.

  Eighteen

  “BOY, OH, BOY. WE were really into hair in those days, weren’t we?” Larry said. He idly tapped his chin as the group stared at one of their old videos. They were up in Jordan’s soundproof studio, their instruments awaiting them on the dais. Jordan had suggested they take a minute to look back before getting started.

  It was so strange, like watching a time capsule that had come of age.

  They had been into hair, Kathy thought dryly. There was Keith on the drum, his head swinging with every beat, his hair flying right along with every strike upon the drums. Her own hair had been down her back, past her waist. She was tossing it as well. In fact, the lot of them were rather heavily into hair tossing.

  “Seems like some of us are still into hair!” Shelley teased, tugging on Larry’s ponytail.

  “Careful,” he growled teasingly. “It’s harder to keep the hair on the head these days.”

  “The hair doesn’t matter, the sound does,” Jordan advised. “Listen, this is what we’ve got to try to achieve again—Kathy, Shelley, you’ve a perfect harmony going there. The breaks and bridges are just right. Our harmonies were a large part of what made us special, along with the fact that we wrote almost all of our music. That’s what we need to achieve again—the harmony, the balance. Okay?”

  “Rusty harmony!” Larry said ruefully.

  “We’re going to be all right,” Miles assured him, confident.

  “Yeah. So let’s get to it,” Jordan said.

  And again it was strange. Damned strange.

  Everyone took his or her place. Jordan had said he didn’t want anyone but the group in on the first jam sessions, which excluded Larry’s sweet, young Vicky Sue, Jeremy, and Tara.

  Judy, however, was in place in front of them, critically watching, just as she had always been.

  “Let’s go with ‘Shadows,’” Jordan said.

  “Shadows!” Kathy gasped.

  The others were silent. Dead silent, she thought, feeling a little bubble of hysterical laughter forming in her throat. It was her song—not that that meant anything special. She had written—or helped write—the lyrics to most of their songs.

  This was the last song she had written. The last song they had really rehearsed.

  The last song for which Keith had written the music. They had worked on it the day he died, had introduced it at the party that night.

  “Yeah. ‘Shadows,’” Jordan repeated, looking around at the lot of them. “If we can get it together, we can use it for the benefit opener, do a recording, and make some money for charity. Does anyone have a problem with that?”

  Silently, one by one, they shook their heads at him. Jordan stared at Kathy last.

  “It’s a great song. The music and the lyrics are perfect together. Right?”

  She found herself nodding. Oh, yeah. Perfect. It brought back to mind Keith’s last smile, his enthusiasm. The anger that had been boiling over in all of them.

  Was that what Jordan had in mind?

  “Let’s get it right, guys, shall we?” he said lightly.

  No one argued with him.

  He slipped his guitar strap over his shoulder, looked at Miles behind the drum set, then tapped out the beat with his foot, nodding to the others.

  Amazingly, they all started off right on the beat. The music, then the lyrics, Shelley’s sweet soprano blending with Kathy’s throatier alto.

  “Shadows here and shadows there,

  Shadows haunting everywhere...

  Shadows rise and shadows fall;

  Shadows twist and rise and call;

  Shadows dart along the hall, and

  Shadows dance upon the wall...

  Shadows...

  Shadows...

  Dark...

  Dim...

  Haunting...

  Falling...

  Shadows...

  One after the other, their voices fell upon the chorus, the harmony amazingly like that of waves upon the ocean
, lulling, soft, hauntingly beautiful, fading away, the two women picking up the verse once again.

  Unbelievably in sync.

  “I can feel them reach for me,

  Shadows will not set me free,

  Shadows harsh and shadows kind,

  Shadows play upon my mind.

  Shadows of the days gone by,

  Hear them laugh, and hear them cry,

  Shadows...

  Once again, the voices of the men falling upon each other as they picked up the chorus. Then their voices fading away, the sounds of the instruments blended, fading away, and in the end just the beat of drums and the soft, magical whisper of a flute.

  And when they finished, silence. They stared at one another. Something suddenly electric, exciting, filling the air. A magic.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Judy stated flatly. “I wouldn’t have believed it.”

  “Shit! We were good,” Larry said, startled himself. “We were—”

  “We were wicked good,” Miles said, incredulous.

  “And we’ve got to keep it up,” Jordan said firmly. “That was one song. We’ve got lots to go. Let’s not go patting ourselves on the back too hard yet, huh?”

  “Sure, right.” Miles responded, but he winked at Kathy. She saw that he was delighted.

  And despite Jordan’s skepticism, the session continued to proceed as if charmed. They had created such excitement amongst themselves that the rehearsal seemed effortless. They went from song to song. Switched instruments upon occasion, switched positions, harmonies. No one suggested a break. No one noticed the passing of time.

  Eventually, when they finished with a soft ballad, they heard a knocking on the door. Judy dutifully rose and went to it. Through the glass, they could see Tara and Jeremy.

  Judy looked at Jordan who shrugged. She opened the door.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Jeremy said cheerfully, “but Peggy suggested that, despite her best efforts, her dinner will not be edible if you don’t all come and eat very shortly.”

  “Dinner?” Shelley said.

  “It’s six o’clock,” Tara informed them, a slight edge to her voice despite her smile. She looked strained, Kathy thought.

  “Wow! Wow!” Larry said excitedly. He turned to Miles. “Eight hours! Eight hours and we’ve been great—”

  “So damned good we didn’t even notice the time!” Derrick said happily.

  “You were so good I didn’t even notice the time,” Judy said with a grin.

  “Really?” Shelley asked her. “All of them? It felt good. Wonderful. Tight and right and great even though Keith—” She broke off, then stared at Jordan. She seemed confused. “Jordan, we were good. Even without him. Right?”

  Jordan nodded solemnly to her, then smiled slightly. “Keith was good. Maybe the best. But we were all good, Shelley. Part of a whole. And yeah, we can be great—even without Keith.”

  “Well, I don’t like to break up this mutual admiration society,” Tara said sweetly, “but Peggy is waiting.”

  “And it has been a productive enough day.” Jordan looked happy. “Let’s call it quits and eat.”

  Tara slipped into the studio, going to him, slipping an arm around him. “You must be exhausted.”

  “I feel great,” he told her. He studied her, seemingly oblivious to all else.

  A coldness slipped over Kathy. She wanted to kick herself. This was crazy. And maybe her own fault. He was enjoying entertaining himself with her. A week with the ex-wife, with his girlfriend in residence. With Jeremy very nearby—and Jordan completely unaware that Jeremy had no sexual interest in her.

  Well, she was a fool. Clinging to the crumbs that fell her way, convincing herself that she was glad of his protection.

  “Dinner,” she murmured, her own triumph and exultation over the incredible session ebbing away. She hurried out of the studio, not wanting to watch Jordan with Tara.

  She wasn’t even aware of the man following closely behind her until she heard Jeremy whisper, “Hey, wait up, will you? I’m trying to be the perfect lover and you don’t even notice when I’m about to put a loverly arm around you!”

  She slowed her pace, glancing up at him, offering him rueful smile. “Put that loverly arm around me, huh? I could use a good hug from a friend.”

  He hugged her. The feeling was warm and fierce. She closed her eyes, grateful that she had such a good friend. She opened her eyes just in time to see Jordan passing her in the hallway.

  She felt a little queasy.

  Then she caught herself. Good!

  Downstairs, she discovered that Peggy had set out a beautiful buffet. The girls and Angel had started getting their plates, but Sally and Gerrit were nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’s your grandmother?” Kathy asked Bren.

  “Ummm, out by the pool, I think. Want me to look?” Bren asked.

  Kathy shook her head. “I’ll go.”

  She hurried out to the patio, glancing to the guest house as she did so and wondering again who in God’s name could have dressed up to look like her and run around the estate. So much was confusing.

  And scary.

  She shook the thought, determined to ask Jordan about getting a gun herself so he wouldn’t feel obliged to protect her at night.

  She walked around the pool, startled to see her mother and Gerrit’s father sitting in lounges so close to one another that Kathy was surprised they weren’t toppling over. Their heads were bowed together, extremely close. So close that they appeared to be...

  Kissing.

  Startled, she stopped.

  “Mom?”

  Sally looked up. She smiled.

  “Dinner’s ready.”

  “Oh, how lovely,” Gerrit said.

  Kathy finally realized that she was staring at them, open-mouthed. In fact, her jaw was almost on the ground.

  “I... I... uh... I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I—My God, were you... necking?” she heard herself blurt out. She winced.

  “Necking?” Sally said. She looked at Gerrit.

  He grinned. “Do old people neck?” he asked Sally.

  “Do they?” Sally laughed.

  He shook his head sadly. “Ummm, I don’t think so. Sometimes they look like they’re necking, but they’ve actually just fallen asleep upon one another.”

  “Ah!” Sally said. She grinned at Kathy. “Guess we weren’t necking, just napping. Do you mind?”

  “I... Of course not!” Kathy gasped. Her cheeks reddened, then she started to laugh. “I’m just—”

  “Shocked?” Gerrit teased.

  “No! Yes, come to think of it, I guess so. But happy. I don’t think you’re too old to neck!” She smiled sweetly at her mother. “Even if you are past your prime!” she told Sally.

  “Past my prime!” Sally protested, then she remembered.

  “What was that?” Gerrit asked.

  “Nothing. Ignore her. Wretched child. You know how they can be.”

  “Do I!” Gerrit said sadly.

  Kathy grinned, then spun quickly on a heel, ready to burst into laughter. Her mother. And Gerrit’s father. How sweet, how wonderful...

  What torture! If the two of them were together, her ex-husband would be even more ingrained in her life.

  If she had a life when this was over!

  Dinner was a boisterous affair that evening, everyone in the group excited that their first practice session after nearly ten years had gone so well. When dessert was being served, Jordan excused himself, saying he had phone calls to make concerning the performance. Because the night was so balmy and beautiful, they naturally seemed to ebb outside toward the patio, finding chairs and lounges near to one another.

  “It’s all very well and good that you’re so industriously congratulating one another,” Tara said, “but when do we plebian partners get to judge?”

  Miles, smiling, glanced at Kathy, then Derrick. Derrick grinned and looked to Shelley, who stared over at Larry. “As far as I’m concerned,” Larry s
aid generously, “anyone can listen in at any time.”

  “You couldn’t have been that good! Not after all those years,” Gerrit warned gruffly. Kathy noted that Jordan’s father and her mother weren’t as closely knit as they had been before, but their chairs were still drawn companionably close. And they both seemed so happy. They’re special people, she thought. Both of them. They had loved and lost, but both had known a special beauty in their loves, something many people never know, no matter how long they live. Both had always been good and generous to those around them, and they’d probably missed having a very special person in theirs lives for a long time. It was just... rather a surprise. But a good one.

  “But they were,” Judy said, a strange tone in her voice, as if she still couldn’t believe just how good. “It was as if they’d never stopped playing together. As if they were just the same. Just as if—”

  “As if Keith were still with us?” Shelley suggested.

  Judy shrugged, swinging her feet over her lounge. “Actually the group sounded better to me than it ever had. There was no hint of tension in the room. Don’t you remember some of the last few sessions before Keith’s—before the band broke up?”

  “Yeah, I guess we all do,” Miles said huskily.

  Kathy closed her eyes. Larry answered Miles, and the discussion continued, then altered, then changed. Conversations around her seemed to fade.

  She could remember one practice session all too well. This morning she remembered it with a great deal of discomfort.

  They’d been in the house, not long back from Europe. Kathy had been certain that the humiliation of the arrest bothered Jordan more than anything. Half of the group had been late to practice, and he had been pacing like a caged bull. Keith had shown up, not quite wasted but certainly under the influence. They’d started a number, just one, and it had been painfully off. They’d never finished it. Jordan had pulled his guitar off his shoulder and had all but thrown it down, uncharacteristic behavior for him. Unlike some of the showmen of that rock age, Jordan couldn’t destroy a musical instrument for anyone’s entertainment.

  “Forget it, Jesus Christ, forget it! We may as well toss the whole damned thing in. Keith, you’re loaded.”

  “The hell I am!”

  “And you’ve got your bloody nerve to be doped up after what you did to us all.”