“You don’t all have to stay,” she protested. “I feel fine. Really. I just need a couple of aspirins for a headache. Bea might be a great actress, but she’s not a master with the bat. She didn’t manage to hit me. Catherine, James, you were going out to eat, then to the movies.”
“Oh, we’d rather stay with you,” Catherine said sincerely.
“Yes. We would.” James’s sincerity wavered.
I can be polite or I can say what I want, Marissa thought. Nobody can get mad at me for saying what I want after what I’ve been through. “Well, I’ll tell you what I’d rather you do,” Marissa said. “Catherine and James, I’d like for you to go to dinner and a movie. Or two movies.” Suddenly she felt shy, but she plowed ahead: “Eric, I’d like for you to stay with me.”
Catherine frowned, undecided. James and Eric looked as if they were trying not to whoop with joy.
“I say the girl who nearly lost her life tonight gets her way,” Eric said, grinning. “Catherine, James, off with you. And don’t hurry back. Marissa, I would be most pleased to stay here in your hour of need.”
Half an hour later, Eric walked into the family room and announced, “Your very kind neighbors have straightened up the kitchen as much as they could and nailed plywood over the space Bea left in the windows. I’m sure there will be a few drafts and Monday is Christmas Day, so you can’t even get a glazier to measure and order the new windows until Tuesday. I also have to warn you that they’ll probably be expensive.”
“Does home owner’s insurance cover damage done to the house by homicidal maniacs?”
“You’ll have to check with your insurance agent about that one. Even he may have to call the main office.”
“What happened to my surveillance?”
“It was dark, snowing, and that big holly bush you have at the corner of the house partially blocked Randall’s view of the house’s back left side, where Bea made her grand entrance. Also, something hadn’t felt right with the car. Randall had gotten out to look at the right rear tire, which had picked up a nail and was leaking. No foul play—just a foul nail. He was calling it in when Bea attacked. She must have been watching for quite a while, waiting until Randall’s full attention wasn’t on the house.”
“Well, great.”
“I’ll tell you what’s great,” Eric said. “That Bea didn’t bash your head in with that bat.”
“You put it so gently.”
“That’s exactly what she would have done.” He shook his head. “All these years I’ve never heard of Bea Pruitt so much as saying an unkind word, even about that bastard of a father she had. But when it came to Buddy…”
“Buddy was her world, Eric. She would have suffered anything her father handed out as long as the Old Man kept his hands off Buddy.”
“You seem to know a lot about her.”
“My father told us about Bea. He’d lived here all his life, you know, and he’d known Bea when she was in school. She got a crush on him, followed him around, sent him barely intelligible love notes. He was a kid and terribly embarrassed. It wasn’t long before they put her in the special education classes, and Dad said he’d heard she’d gotten another boyfriend within two weeks.” She smiled. “‘She just threw me in the gutter,’ Dad used to say.
“Years later some kind soul gave her a job in Walmart. My mother was shopping in the sewing goods department, ran into Bea, whom she only knew by sight, and Bea told her she was going to have a baby and was thrilled about it.”
Eric frowned. “Did your father have any idea who Buddy’s father was?”
“I never heard him even speculate.” Marissa paused, thinking. “Things were rather hectic in the kitchen and I’m not certain I heard everything correctly, but did Bea say Buddy had made a joke about Marissa’s Monster and that I threatened to kill Buddy? I didn’t throw a fit or threaten him, but he did make a joke about Marissa’s Monster. Who told her that stuff?”
“Buddy and Bea talked on the phone a lot. He was always calling her and I’d have to tell him to put the cell phone away. Then she’d just call the office. We had to deal with her three or four times a day. I figure he called her and told her the whole story, embellishing it by saying you’d threatened to kill him so he could get sympathy.”
“Well, if he did,” Marissa said, “he almost cost me my life.”
2
“Are you feeling okay?”
Marissa looked over at Eric. He’d built a fire in the fireplace and fixed her a glass of wine. He’d called and said they wouldn’t need more surveillance until around ten o’clock because he would be staying, getting statements, et cetera. He’d winked at Marissa while he was talking to someone at headquarters, meaning he knew he wasn’t fooling anybody and he didn’t care. He wasn’t on duty, he informed her, so having a bourbon and Coke was all right. He sat beside her on the couch, sipping his drink, talking casually, and kindly paying attention to Lindsay, who held her zebra, her smallest teddy bear, and her stuffed mouse in her mouth.
“I’m impressed, Lindsay,” Eric said, pulling gently at the teddy bear with no luck. “Three toys at once.”
“Lindsay’s goal in life is to cram as many things in her mouth at one time as possible.” Marissa laughed. “And you have to admit, this has been an exciting evening. She’s pumped full of adrenaline.”
Eric looked into Marissa’s eyes. “And love for her mistress.”
Marissa had known Eric since she was a child. She’d loved him and lost him and occasionally thought she hated him. Still, at this moment she felt shy with him and slightly lowered her head. “I guess love doesn’t mean you come to your mistress’s aid when someone is trying to kill her.”
Eric put his hand under her chin and lifted her head. He looked at her solemnly and said, “Love means cramming stuffed animals in your mouth when your mistress is threatened.”
Marissa burst into laughter. “And here I thought love meant never having to say you’re sorry.”
“Erich Segal got it wrong in more ways than one.”
Marissa reached for her wineglass, missed, and turned over the glass. Wine spread over the coffee table and Eric dashed into the kitchen for paper towels. As they began wiping the liquid, Eric started to laugh. “Do you remember that night we were in the Larke Inn dining room and I knocked over the flower arrangement? Who knew that dainty vase could hold so much water? It soaked the tablecloth, dripped on the floor, and I nearly knocked the plates off the table trying to sop it up before it got on your dress.” They both rocked with laughter. “And then you said, ‘Eric, will you please propose before you destroy this whole end of the dining room’?”
Marissa managed to catch her breath. “Well, you’d almost pulled the chair out from under me and set fire to your menu. I didn’t know what to expect next!”
Eric sat down beside her on the couch, wiping the tears of laughter from under his eyes. “Oh God, I’d planned such a perfect evening and it turned into such a mess.”
“No, it was perfect, because you turned it into what you thought was a mess. I thought the entire evening was magical.”
“Even when I pulled out the chair too far and you almost landed on the floor?”
“Even then.”
He paused, tilting his head slightly, amusement in his eyes. “You were expecting me to propose that night. Gretchen told you, didn’t she?”
“No. I knew when you suggested we go to the Larke Inn for dinner and you tried to sound offhand when you told me to ‘really get dressed up,’ and when you kept tapping your suit pocket in the dining room to make sure you hadn’t lost the ring.”
“Lost it before I created another spectacle. You’re lucky I didn’t turn over the table on you or knock you out of one of the windows into the waterfall. Maybe that’s why you said yes. You feared for your life.”
Marissa looked at him, tenderness overwhelming her. “That is not why I said yes. I think I’ve loved you since I was that skinny nine-year-old with crooked teeth.”
“The one with potential.” Eric smiled. “You more than surpassed your potential. Since you were about fifteen, I’ve thought you were the most beautiful, smart, unbelievably charming girl I’ve ever known.”
“Beautiful? Everyone thinks Catherine is the most beautiful.”
“She is—in her way. But your way—the slightly upturned nose with a few freckles, that wavy hair, the spectacular blue eyes, those very straight teeth—is the way that appeals to me.”
He reached out and ran a finger down the side of her face. “For a long time, I had a lot of tortured nights. My heart would start pounding and I’d feel like I was hanging just on the edge of an abyss. Then I’d have the sensation of feeling your face. I’d recall how it felt to rub my fingers over every warm curve from your forehead over your temples and your closed eyes, down your nose to your lips—lips that would pucker and barely kiss my finger. I’d feel warm all over and—”
He went silent when Marissa lightly kissed his finger, never taking her gaze from his. His hand moved from her lips, sliding under her hair and lifting it before his own lips touched the hot, sensitive skin of her neck. She knew she made a soft sound of pleasure before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and sought his lips with her own. The kiss seemed to go on and on and Marissa felt as if she were warm and safe and soaring through an exquisite world she’d hadn’t known since the last time Eric kissed her—a magical, loving world where she wanted to stay forever.
She could feel her own breath quickening, her heart beating in time with his. She buried her hands in his thick hair and then let them drift down his back, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. She pulled the shirt loose from his pants and slipped her hands upward again, this time rubbing his skin as their tongues touched lightly, then with more confidence, more passion. Eric broke off their kiss and moved his mouth to her ear.
“Is your bedroom in the same place?”
“Of course.”
“Then I won’t need directions.”
Eric rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand, looking down at her. “I’m not going to tell you that I’ve always loved you.”
“How gallant of you.”
“I’m not going to tell you that I’ve always loved you because you won’t believe me, but it’s true.”
“You having broken off our engagement two months before the wedding does make it hard to believe, Eric.”
“I thought I’d explained all of that to you. Would you like to consult Catherine?”
“I don’t think she can be objective. She wanted to throw a brick through your windshield.”
“Oh. I didn’t know how clinical psychologists handled these matters.”
“Well, she wasn’t a clinical psychologist yet, so I’m going to accept your explanation.” She lifted her head and kissed him lightly. “Okay?”
“Very okay.”
Eric looked around the room. “The few times your parents weren’t home and we sneaked up here, I seem to remember this room done in subdued shades of blue. Have you changed it?”
“Yes.” A week after you broke off our engagement, she thought, but didn’t want to bring up that subject again or tell him she couldn’t let herself forget one of the happiest times of her life. “You now see cream-colored carpet, azure walls, a bright yellow chair and bedspread. Do the colors remind you of anything?”
Eric closed his eyes for less than a minute. “Let’s see—the beach in Jamaica?”
“Right! I guess it could be a lot of beaches, but I pictured the one we sneaked off to the spring break of my junior year of college.”
“And the print of Toulouse-Lautrec’s Moulin Rouge?”
“The nightlife! Don’t you remember?”
“Oh, of course. I don’t see anyone in the print wearing low-rise jeans and holding a piña colada, though.”
“You need glasses.”
“I wish we were in Jamaica right now,” Eric said, leaning over to give her a kiss.
Marissa smiled. “How could you possibly want to leave all the fun we’re having right here in Aurora Falls?”
“It’s not all bad, Marissa. I got you back.”
Marissa went still, barely breathing. Eric rattled on for a couple of minutes before asking, “What’s wrong?”
“You got me back?” she asked. “Is that what you think? You got me back?”
Eric pulled her close to him and turned her face so she’d have to gaze at him instead of the ceiling. “I didn’t get you back? What just happened? A jump in the hay for old times’ sake?”
“No. Not at all. But you can’t wipe away over four years of hurt, disappointment, and humiliation in a week, Eric. And I know you think you’ve analyzed everything that was going on with you after Gretchen died, but you haven’t. You’ve come to some conclusions. You’re thinking straighter. That’s great. But it doesn’t make everything all right with you, or me, or us.”
Eric looked at her for a moment, his expression stunned. Then he rolled onto his other side. “I thought you loved me, Marissa. I felt it. At least I thought I felt it.”
“I do love you, Eric. My love is different than it was the first time around, though. I’m older. I’ve realized I have to be cautious, especially when it comes to us.”
“So I haven’t suffered enough.”
Marissa sighed. She started to say something sweet and comforting, but she couldn’t and be honest, too. “Dammit, you’re acting like a spoiled little boy. You didn’t want me, so you threw me away. Now you feel better and I still love you, so you believe everything is okay again. You’re twenty-nine years old, Eric. Think like it!” He didn’t answer. “Have you fallen into a pouting spell?”
“I was on the verge, but you’ve shamed me out of it.”
“That’s good.”
“So I’ve done one thing right.”
“You have done many things right and I do love you. I’ve never been in love with another man. Honestly, I don’t want ever to be in love with another man. I just want things to be right, Eric. We really screwed up once. I don’t want us to get married, have a child, and screw up things again. I don’t think I could bear it. Do you love me enough to give us time? To not assume we’re a couple ready to set a wedding date?”
“Do you want to see other men?” he asked.
“No. If we do things my way, will you want to see other women?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Eric’s back was still turned to her. Marissa reached over him, pressed her body against his, and nibbled on his ear. “Then there’s no reason we can’t start fresh, Chief Deputy. After all, we already have the most important thing on our side.”
“And what is that?”
“Love, you goof.” She laughed, tickling him and overjoyed to hear his raucous laughter. “Love!”
Chapter 21
1
Marissa lay peacefully in Eric’s arms as they listened to a Bryan Ferry CD. “When are you expecting Catherine and James home?” Eric asked.
“Probably not until eleven at the earliest. I’m so glad James took her out. Will’s death hit her hard. She might have been his only real friend. I was afraid she’d completely fall apart when she heard he’d been murdered.”
“It would take a lot to make Catherine fall apart.”
Marissa lifted her head and looked at Eric. “What do you mean? You know she’s…well, not fragile, but—”
“Honey, you’re doing the same thing to your sister that I did to Gretchen.”
“No, I’m not. I know Catherine isn’t a little china doll, but she’s just not as tough as I’ve always been.” Eric started laughing. “What’s so funny? You know it’s true.”
“Your sister is as tough as you are, Marissa. She’s just not as noisy about it.”
“Noisy!”
“Yes. You think you’re indestructible and you let everybody know it. One day I expect to see you thumping your chest and roaring at the world.”
“How charming, y
ou sweet talker.”
“Catherine’s strength is quiet,” Eric went on, ignoring Marissa’s sarcasm. “I saw it the night you came to the cemetery to see your mother’s grave. You were the one who looked into the grave without really seeing. It was Catherine who held your hand, who told you to take a deep breath and focus, who took you in her arms. Neither one of you knew what was in that hole, but Catherine wasn’t afraid to look. You were. I saw the fear in your eyes.”
“Oh,” Marissa said slowly. “I didn’t realize…she just seems to worry so much and she hates taking risks and—”
“And here’s what used to be our song,” Eric interrupted as “Slave to Love” began to play. “Remember the night we played this song so many times at the Lonesome Me the manager told us we’d have to leave if we didn’t stop hogging the jukebox.”
Marissa laughed. “So we let other people make selections for ten minutes, then played Slave to Love again.”
“And got thrown out.”
“I think we were the only people not trying to start a fight who were ever thrown out of the place. I believe our picture is on the wall.” Marissa smiled. “Your mother would be so proud.”
Eric grinned. “At least there would no chance of her stopping in there for dinner and seeing it.”
The phone rang. Eric groaned out of habit and Marissa said, “Relax. It’s our house phone. Probably someone wanting to know if I can tell them any more about Will Addison’s murder.” She picked up the handset. “Hello?”
“Marissa! Is that you?”
The voice was so loud Marissa almost didn’t recognize it. “Jean?”
“Yes. Oh, thank God you’re home. Mitch is dying.”
“Dying!” Marissa felt as if she’d just been dealt a blow. “You have to call the hospital!”
“No. He said he wanted to die here and I won’t go against his wishes about something so important. I’ve tried to get hold of Eric at his apartment—”
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