Even with the nine of them gathered around the hearth and the fire snapping sharply, the mood remained sober. No giggling, no teasing or squabbling—there was none of the teenage noise Chris had gotten used to in the last twenty-four hours. These teenagers seemed more like children tonight, for some reason. Lonely children.
Jayne stepped inside the library door. “This morning, I took Mrs. Rosen’s stew out of the freezer to thaw. We’ll heat it up in pot on the fire, so dinner won’t take much work or time.
“In fact,” she said more gently, looking at the huddle in front of the fire, “I’ll get out the bowls and the bread so all of you can stay here and warm up.” She went back to the kitchen without meeting Chris’s eyes.
He couldn’t let the sadness continue. “Where was I?”
Taryn wrinkled her forehead as she looked at him. “Huh?”
“Chase and Juliet. I was telling you about them.”
A couple of the other girls perked up. “There’s more?” Selena asked.
“Oh, yeah. I told you the end of the story, remember? He killed her. Would you like to know why?”
“Did she screw somebody else?”
“Whoa.” Chris stared at Yolanda, the source of the question. “They’re just thirteen years old at this point.”
She shrugged. “So?”
“So they’re kids. Nobody’s screwing anybody.”
Yolanda shrugged. “They are in my neighborhood.”
“This isn’t your neighborhood,” Selena told her. Then she turned back to Chris. “Okay, so he took her to his granddad’s house. Then what happened?”
Relieved to be finished with the tricky stuff, Chris stirred the fire, arranging a bed of coals underneath the pot stand just as Jayne came in carrying her huge kettle of stew.
“What did Juliet see when she went into Chase’s grandfather’s house?”
Chris winked at Sarah in thanks for her leading question. “The inside of Charlie’s house—that’s Chase’s granddad, remember—reminded Juliet of a magic store.”
Charlie was an inventor and a science teacher. He liked to experiment, and his “projects,” as he called them, occupied the nooks and crannies, the tables and shelves and counters in every room of his rambling old cabin. Flasks of bubbling liquids hung over low fires, while beakers of bright metallic liquids and squares of colorful powders sat within reach. The house smelled like wood ash and spiced apples and rust—the apples were part of dinner that night, but who knew what else might be cooking?
For the next week, Juliet showed up at Charlie’s every day, on a bicycle she said she’d found in her grandmother’s garage. She and Chase watched Charlie experiment, played in the snow that finally fell on Christmas Eve, and sledded down the hill in back of the cabin on trash-can lids.
Being with Juliet was like having a favorite sister, Chase decided. Even if some of his thoughts weren’t brotherly at all.
The night before she was scheduled to leave for New York, Charlie fed the two kids ham and carrots from his own garden sweetened with honey from his beehive, along with apples from the trees in his backyard. Then he showed them a few tricks—how coiled electric wire could become a magnet, how purple iodine crystals, dropped into a colorless liquid, disappeared, and how two clear liquids, when combined, produced a beautiful yellow powder. Chase exhibited his granddad’s collection of crystals and geodes. For once, Juliet wasn’t bored. She’d never had so much fun.
Then Charlie said, “I reckon you’d better get home, young lady. It’s dark and nobody knows where you are.”
“They probably haven’t noticed I’m gone.” Juliet sighed. “They were having a party this afternoon. Everybody’s drunk by now.”
Drunk or not, Juliet’s family had called the police when they found her gone after sunset. When Charlie stopped his 1952 Chevy at the end of a long, winding driveway, red and blue lights flashed in front of the chalet-style mansion Juliet claimed was her grandmother’s home.
“You’re in a pile of trouble, young lady.”
“So what’s new?” She leaned forward from the backseat. “I’ll walk from here so you don’t get involved.”
“I don’t think so—” Charlie began, but Juliet was out of the car before he could turn around. Chase opened his own door, ready to go after her, but she vanished before he got both feet on the ground.
“She went into the trees on the right,” Charlie said. “You’ll never find her.”
Chase dropped back into the Chevy. “Will she be all right?”
“I hope so.” His granddad shifted gears and backed out onto the road. “She’s an awful cute little gal.” Chris stayed quiet for a minute, and the girls gradually realized that he’d finished.
“Wait,” Selena said, sitting up. “You can’t stop there. What happened to Juliet?”
“How does Chase see her again?”
“Did her folks let her see him?”
Chris looked at Jayne and found her as absorbed as the girls, absentmindedly stirring the pot while she listened to him with her chin propped on one hand.
“I thought you all might want some supper. Looks to me like Ms. Thomas has your stew ready to eat,” he said.
She blinked hard and sat up straight. “Exactly. We’re ready for dinner.”
Yolanda stopped in front of him on her way to the kitchen. “But you’ll tell more later tonight?” Her gaze was fierce, but anxious, too.
Chris nodded. “I can do that.”
ONCE THE GIRLS WERE READY for bed, Chris picked up the story where he’d left off.
Chase tried not to mope during the rest of his vacation with Charlie, but he couldn’t think of anything fun to do by himself. He hung around town, hoping maybe Juliet had stayed longer and would show up again to steal a candy bar. He rode his bike out to the expensive new housing development where he and Charlie had dropped her off that night, and looked at the chalet in the daylight. When he coasted farther down the driveway, he saw that a tall iron gate blocked the drive, with a fence stretching into the trees on either side. There were dogs behind the fence, German shepherds who made a lot of noise. Maybe Juliet knew them and could get past them, but Chase had the feeling he’d regret climbing over.
So he celebrated the New Year with Charlie until he had to get on a plane in Asheville and fly back to Philly. Then there was school—long, gray, boring days of school, which were only better compared to the…
Chris hesitated over his word choice. He should back off a little on the intensity. “—compared to the war of words he walked into every night at home.”
As he looked at the girls, he saw Beth nodding her head. “I know how that goes,” she said softly.
“You and me both,” Yolanda agreed.
“Chase didn’t forget Juliet, but the days passed and he went with the flow, especially once baseball season started. Guys,” he said with an apologetic shrug, “like sports.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Monique sniffed. “So then what?”
“So then the school year ended. Chase’s mother was spending the summer in Europe and his dad would be working in Egypt, so they sent Chase to live with Charlie for the entire summer vacation.”
Nothing could have suited Chase better. He loved the mountains, liked helping Charlie around the yard and in the garden, and enjoyed watching him work on his experiments. The stress of the months at home fell away—he gained weight, slept through the nights and woke up looking forward to his day.
There were times Charlie got so wrapped up in a project he forgot he had a grandson, and so Chase started exploring the mountains around the cabin, most of which formed parts of several different national parks. As long as he returned for dinner, Charlie didn’t bother about where he might have spent the day.
Or who he spent it with, which was good because Juliet was back. Chase stopped by the market in town to pick up lunch supplies for the day and was trying to decide between plain chips and barbecued when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“Boo,�
� she said into his ear.
Chase jerked around, only to drop the bag of cookies, three cans of soda, four candy bars and two sub sandwiches he’d been holding because he’d forgotten to get a basket.
“Such a geek,” Beth groaned, with her hand over her face.
“I think he’s cute,” Haley said.
“So did Juliet,” Chris told them.
She squatted down with him to help pick up the food.
“I’m here for the summer,” she said, standing up with the chips in one hand and a drink in the other. “My folks wanted me out of the city, away from my friends because they’re a bad influence.” Her tone was mocking. “Can you believe it?”
Clutching sandwiches, drinks and candy, Chase stared at her and believed it. Juliet had bleached her hair to a dry wheat color, cut it short and spiked it in all directions. Black makeup circles rimmed her eyes. Metal spikes on chains hung in her ears. She wore a tight black T-shirt, baggy black pants with chains hanging from the pockets, and black military boots.
He gulped. “Hi.”
Turning toward the checkout lanes, she grabbed another bag of chips from the shelf as she talked to him over her shoulder. “You can’t tell Charlie I’m here, though. My grandmother knows who he is and my folks told her to make sure I didn’t see him or you ever again.”
“Why?” Chase paid for the supplies and grabbed the grocery bag, following Juliet outside.
“Because you kidnapped me at Christmas, of course.”
“Kidnapped you?” Who was this person? What had happened to the girl he’d met over the holidays?
She dropped onto the bench they’d occupied before. “Why else would I have disappeared?”
“Did you tell them we’d kidnapped you?”
“Not exactly.” Opening the chip bag, she avoided his eyes. “I just said you’d taken me to your house and kept me there, and that’s why I wasn’t at home when they looked for me.”
Chase muttered a swear word Charlie would have smacked him for. “They might have arrested us. They still could!”
“No, they won’t. I promised to let them know where I was at all times.”
“Like now? They know you’re in town?”
“Yes. I told them I was going to the library.”
“Oh.” Chase considered the prospect of spending the day inside with a book. Not possible. “Okay, well—”
Juliet hopped to her feet. “So where are we really going?”
That was when he knew she hadn’t changed at all.
AFTER SPENDING HALF the day outdoors in the cold, none of the girls stayed awake long enough to hear the end of the night’s installment. Jayne had heard all the words, but was so drowsy she couldn’t have said what they meant. With her eyes half-open, she saw Chris put more logs on the fire and arrange the blaze for a nice, even burn. He turned toward her and seemed to stare at her for a long time, but that could have been her dreamy state of mind. At last his flashlight beam cut the shadows, then wandered into the hallway. He’d left his wet boots and socks by the outside door, so she couldn’t hear his footsteps.
She’d spent quite a bit of time this evening trying not to stare at his strong, well-built feet.
Sinking into sleep, Jayne found herself riding a bicycle up and down long, smooth hills. In the dream, she wasn’t even surprised to be on a bicycle; she recalled the story she’d been listening to and recognized the power of suggestion. Anyway, she was enjoying the ride, the wind in her face and the sense of physical effort without getting tired in the least.
The sensation of a threat came over her all at once, an awareness that she had to ride faster to escape something—someone?—dire. Breathing hard, she tried to increase her speed, but knew without a doubt she was losing ground. Underneath her weight, the bike wobbled and shook. Pieces started popping off and clattering to the asphalt roadway. Hot, moist breath seared the back of her neck. A hand gripped her shoulder just as the bicycle disintegrated. She jerked away and fell, with rocks tearing her skin as she slid across the pavement, then slammed to a stop. Struggling and sobbing, she sat up against the tree trunk, which became a wall at her back. And when she looked up, he was there—
Jayne gasped and woke up, halfway to her feet before she even realized her eyes were open.
In front of her, the fire in the hearth flickered gently, casting gold shadows on the sleeping girls spread across the carpet. At the windows, icy moonlight polished silver snow.
She took a few deep breaths, getting her bearings, then stepped carefully over arms and legs and feet on her way to the library door. A glass of juice, or even water, would help her settle down and go back to sleep.
Sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, she tried and failed to forget the dream. The symbolism wasn’t hard to decipher—Chris Hammond’s story, the accident that landed him at Hawkridge, even the menace she felt following her could be related to him.
The danger in her dream, however, hadn’t felt connected to the bike ride. It…no, he had come from outside, from elsewhere. And she didn’t know who he could be or why she had been so scared.
“Can’t sleep?”
Jayne jumped and sloshed orange juice on the table. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
Chris Hammond took a glass from the cabinet, poured himself some milk and came to sit across from her at the table. “Me, neither.” That was, she supposed, the reply to his question and her comment.
He didn’t turn on a flashlight, but they didn’t need one. Moonlight reflected off snow poured through the window, brighter than electric lamps.
Even so, electricity filled the silence. Jayne tried a casual comment to diffuse the tension. “You must be tired, after playing in the snow all afternoon. On top of your accident.”
He rolled that left shoulder in backward circles, drawing her attention to the muscles underneath his sky-blue sweater. “The exercise was good—kept the ligaments and tendons from getting stiff.”
“If you say so.” She sounded like a prude, even to herself. “I think warm milk is supposed to help you sleep. I don’t know if cold works as well.”
“A full stomach is all I need, besides getting my brain to turn off. That’s the real problem. I can’t stop thinking.”
Despite the promptings of reason and common sense, she asked, “What are you thinking about?”
Propping his folded arms on the table, he leaned toward her. “Well, you see, I’ve come up with a plan that could prove or disprove your identity as Juliet Radcliffe.”
“I’ve already told you—”
“But you’re not an objective source.”
“And you are?”
“No. But if we both agreed—either you are or you aren’t—then the issue would be settled.”
“And just how do you intend to provoke that agreement?”
He didn’t move, but the intensity of his gaze on her face made her feel as if he’d gotten very close. “A good word choice, ‘provoke.’ My suggestion is this—let me spend thirty minutes seducing you.”
Jayne slapped her hands on the table. “What?”
“Or you can seduce me, if that works better for you.” He shrugged. “Either way, I think by the end of thirty minutes, we’ll know for sure whether or not you are my Juliet.”
Chapter Six
Jayne laughed at him. “You’re not serious.”
He responded with a frown, and gradually her amusement died. “That’s ridiculous. Insane. Depraved,” she added, when he didn’t reply.
His eyes remained locked with hers, as if he could see the chaos of fear and excitement and desire churning her blood. Jayne broke the connection herself, got up from the chair and went to the window. Perhaps staring out at the frozen landscape would cool her down.
“I don’t think so.” She cleared her throat. “No.”
Chris came to stand beside her. “Why not?”
“Because there’s no reason to expect that…that approach would…work.” He was too close, too overwhelming. B
ut she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her retreat. “I’m already certain of the outcome. I don’t need any…any proof.”
Now he chuckled. “Another interesting word. And I do need…proof.” His voice reminded her of a lion’s purr.
If he kept staring at her, she was just going to fall into him. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was—
He straightened up. “I’ve never forced a woman yet, and I don’t intend to start now.” On his way out, he stopped at the table to down the rest of his milk. “Good night.”
Let him go. Let him go. Let him go.
“On the other hand—” Jayne said, just as he reached the doorway.
Looking back at her over his shoulder, he lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?”
She took a step, then another. “It’s possible…”
He turned to face her, arms folded over his chest. “Yes?”
“I mean, I know who I am, but maybe you would be convinced if we…if I gave you…proof.”
“Does that mean yes?” Somehow he moved to stand in front of her, looking down, his arms loose at his sides. Not relaxed, though. Neither of them was relaxed.
“Not…not thirty minutes. I don’t really think that’s necessary. Do you?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
His hands rose to cup her face, with his thumbs meeting at the point of her chin, his palms warm against her neck and his fingers spread over the back of her skull.
Like a chalice, she thought. A goblet of precious wine.
As she gazed into his face, he brought his mouth to hers and sipped at her lower lip, pulling gently until he barely touched the smooth inner flesh. A soft release, and then the same tasting of her upper lip, while her breathing quickened and her hands trembled. If he didn’t take a real, full, hard kiss soon, she would puddle at his feet.
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