by P. G. Forte
Up in the organ loft, Mrs. Barbieri was really getting into her performance. Scout Patterson, seated a few rows back on the bride’s side, frowned slightly. “That’s not the Wedding March.”
“Uh-uh,” her friend Lucy Cavanaugh replied, an odd gurgle in her voice.
Scout shot her friend a curious glance. “It’s not even a hymn, is it?”
Lucy’s mouth was clamped shut. Her eyes danced with laughter. She shook her head.
Lucy’s husband, Dan, leaned across her to whisper to Scout, “Billy Joel. This Night.”
Scout looked at him, startled. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, he’s sure,” Lucy hissed, and quickly clapped her hand to her mouth as a snort of laughter escaped her.
Dan began to sing, very softly, along with the music and Scout felt her eyes widen. “Oh. Well, I guess that fits, doesn’t it?”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Lucy murmured, as her shoulders began to shake again.
Currents of quiet laughter began to run through the church. Up on the altar, the groom and his best man smiled stoically, refusing to give in to the waves of mirth as they eddied around them. But, after all, Scout thought, sending her husband an encouraging wink, he and Ryan were both cops, they had stone faced solemn down to an art form. She was sure they’d both endured much worse than this.
“I feel like I’m an extra in The Big Chill,” Scout whispered to Lucy.
“Except that was a funeral,” her friend pointed out. “Not a wedding.”
“Same difference,” Dan murmured, feigning innocence as both women turned to gape at him. “What?” he asked smiling at his wife’s I’ll-get-you-later glare.
Scout dissolved into helpless laughter. She wasn’t alone. By the time the bride reached the altar, by the time the groom took her hands in his, there wasn’t a single face in the church not wearing a smile.
The nuptial mass was timeless and traditional. The vows were nothing that hadn’t been spoken a billion times before. The quiet tremor in the bride’s voice, the groom’s slight hesitancy with the ring, were almost there by prior arrangement. They were things that had been heard and seen on countless other occasions.
But like waves on the ocean, repetition didn’t diminish the power that could be heard in each stammer and felt in every pause. There was nothing stagnant or dull about the emotions that glowed in the couple’s eyes. Like the ocean itself, their love was fresh and constant, fathomless and undeniable; as close to eternal as ever would be found on earth.
By the time the groom, his gold ring gleaming, reached a hand to gently frame his bride’s face; by the time their lips met in a kiss that was as quiet and dignified as the wedding itself, there was hardly a dry eye anywhere. Even the officiating priest had to wipe his eyes. Although, Scout reflected, considering that Father Bob had once been engaged to the bride, perhaps he had more cause for tears than anyone else present.
“Sinead looks happy,” Lucy murmured, nodding toward the Maid of Honor, one of the few people not crying. Sinead was smiling beatifically and looking radiantly lovely in her champagne, couture, maternity gown.
Scout frowned. “Well, she’d better be.”
Adam Sasso, the father of Sinead’s baby, had been forced to skip the wedding. He was back at his winery right now, overseeing preparations for the reception, which was being held there in an hour’s time. Scout suspected her stepbrother might have had another reason for not attending the ceremony. Maybe he’d been reluctant to witness the expression on Sinead’s face as Ryan and Siobhan exchanged their vows?
There’d been a lot of questions about Sinead’s relationship with her new brother-in-law. Ryan had been months learning to tell the twins apart, and speculation as to how far things might have gone between he and Sinead, before the confusion was resolved, had only grown worse as Sinead’s pregnancy progressed and she continued to refuse Adam’s proposals.
Lucy sighed. “Well, that’s what I’m saying, isn’t it? So, lighten up, huh? I’m sure she’ll marry Adam eventually.”
“She’d better,” Scout repeated darkly. She’d always been a little bit leery of her brother’s relationship with Sinead. She really didn’t want to see Adam get hurt.
“Oh, yeah, no question about that,” Dan nodded, seemingly in agreement with his wife. “He’s a goner. We’ll be back here for his funeral before you know it. I mean, his wedding, of course.”
“Funerals,” Lucy muttered in mock annoyance. She fixed her husband with an evil glare. “Another word out of you, Cavanaugh and there’ll be a funeral to attend, all right. Yours.”
* * *
As the day and the reception began to wind down, Sinead took some time to put her feet up. After a rocky start, her pregnancy had settled into a not unmanageable routine. Her biggest problem at the moment was swollen ankles – and those she could handle. She glanced around the terrace and felt a thrill of satisfaction. The Lupa e Cervo winery had seen its share of parties since she’d taken over as hostess and event coordinator, but none she’d wanted so much to be perfect. Siobhan deserved perfection – especially on her special day. After the misery she’d endured during her first marriage, Siobhan deserved anything she wanted.
Sinead supposed it would be nice if Ryan got what he wanted, too, but that was a lesser concern. He was already getting Siobhan, after all, and if that wasn’t good enough, for him, well, then he’d have her to answer to. She cast a glance at the happy couple and smiled. Ryan had turned out to be an okay guy. Of course, he had nothing on Adam, but then, very few men did.
Sinead’s gaze traveled across the terrace until it settled on Adam, chatting with another of her brothers-in-law, Marsha’s husband Sam. She doubted there was another man in Oberon—or the entire state of California, for that matter, who could match Adam for charm and looks, for wit or taste or... oh, anything at all. She stroked her belly absently as she considered Adam’s many qualities. She was glad they were having this baby together, although she had never expected to feel that way. She was glad they would have something to cement them to one another. She heaved a little sigh as she thought about it. When the rest fell apart, as it was surely bound to do, at least they’d have that.
“What’s wrong with you?” Lucy asked, turning to look at her curiously.
Sinead shrugged. “Wrong? Nothing, why?”
“Those were some pretty heavy sighs for nothing.”
Sinead shook her head. “I’m just tired.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Scout nodded sympathetically. “You’ve got what? Three weeks left?”
“Four and a half,” Sinead corrected. “But who’s counting, huh?”
“At least it’s not twins,” her sister Marsha pointed out, with a small smile; one that looked a trifle bittersweet, and did nothing to ease the sadness in her eyes.
Lucy cast a quick glance at Scout and then said, “You know Sinead, this was a great party, but when are you gonna throw one for yourself?”
Another party? Sinead considered the idea. It sounded exhausting. “I don’t know. Maybe, after the baby is born, we’ll have a Christening party.”
Lucy frowned. “Yeah, that’s great, but I was thinking a wedding first.”
Sinead shook her head. “No, thanks. Like I already told Adam, two’s my limit.” She’d rushed into both her marriages—that was a mistake she’d never make again. Besides, she couldn’t understand why anyone even bothered to get married. It didn’t make breaking up less likely, just more painful.
Even a good marriage was no guarantee of happiness. Look at Scout and Nick, apparently they’d longed for each other for decades, and now – they hadn’t been married more than a couple of years, and yet, in the last few months, it seemed like a shadow had settled between them. Marriage hadn’t stopped that from happening, had it? For all Sinead knew, it might even have caused it.
Then there was Marsha, married for an even shorter period. Did she look happy right now? No.
In fact, the more Sinead thought about it, t
he only married couple she knew who seemed content was Lucy and Dan. Which probably meant they were just more steeped in denial than the others.
She wanted more than that for herself and Adam, not that she’d get it, of course. Love and attraction had a sad habit of fading away. Better to stay single. To stay partners. To concentrate their efforts on ventures that had half a chance of succeeding. Like their work together at the winery and the adjoining inn. Like their baby girl. Victoria.
“Well, that’s just stupid,” Lucy complained. “Marriage to the wrong guy shouldn’t even count as marriage. You and Adam look like you could make things work. Why don’t you give him a chance?”
“Oh, what the hell for?” Sinead snapped. She knew it was probably just hormones making her so bitchy, but she really didn’t need this crap. “I mean, what’s the point? Nothing lasts. If you’re lucky you get a few good years and then boredom sets in. Marriage just leads to divorce. I figure I may as well skip a step and save us both some trouble. That way, when it’s over, it’s just over.”
“What do you mean, nothing lasts?” Lucy looked affronted. “Why shouldn’t it last?”
“Oh, please,” Sinead sighed, warming to her topic. “Sex with the same person, night after night, year after year—what’s left after a while? It can’t possibly stay exciting, can it?”
Scout and Marsha looked at her in silence, then turned as one to Lucy.
“What?” Lucy glanced back at them in surprise. “Why’re you looking at me for? I didn’t say it.”
Marsha smiled gently at her friend. “Well, after almost nineteen years of marriage, you are the expert here.”
“Right,” Scout added. “Plus the topic is sex. So, you know, you’d probably be the expert anyway.”
Lucy’s cheeks flamed red. For a moment, it looked like she had nothing to say. Then she lifted her chin and turned to Sinead. “No, Sinead, you don’t have to get bored. In fact, if you’re lucky, after a few years you find yourself getting more... creative.”
Chapter Two
“So, tell me, Doctor Ruth, how creative are we talking, anyway?” Scout teased Lucy, after Sinead had left the table – going off to think about getting creative with Adam, Scout could only hope. “Different positions? Different locations? Do you mean feather and blindfold creative? Or whips and chains?”
“In your case? I’m thinking gags,” Lucy replied, shooting her a quelling glance before she turned back to watch Marsha, who had become suddenly a little too busy with pouring herself a fresh cup of tea.
Scout felt her spirits take a nose dive. Shit. She’d been trying so hard not to focus on Marsha, not to think about her friend’s unhappiness, its probable cause and the guilt they’d all been living with for the last five months.
“What’s wrong, Marsh?” Lucy asked quietly.
Marsha shrugged and said nothing.
She doesn’t need to answer, Scout thought sadly. And Lucy didn’t need to ask. We all know exactly what’s wrong.
For most of her adult life, Marsha had been gifted with a wide array of psychic powers. A near fatal car crash twenty two years earlier, when she was seventeen, had unleashed abilities that, until then, had existed only as unexplored potential. Abilities that allowed her to see and hear and feel things that most people could not.
But that had all changed last October when a trance journey the three had been forced into on Halloween night had gone disastrously wrong.
Scout and Marsha had been linked, mind to mind, when their worlds were turned inside out and upside down. They’d been plunged into hell. They’d come close to losing their minds, maybe even their souls. They’d been pulled back to consciousness only by Lucy’s single minded determination that they not be lost.
Scout had ended up with powers she’d never wanted and wished she were rid of. Marsha had been left…maimed. It was a strong word, but, Scout thought, exactly the one Marsha would use to describe her condition.
“Come on,” Lucy urged Marsha again. “Whatever it is – you can tell us, can’t you? We’re your friends.”
Marsha shook her head and sighed. “There were so many things I took for granted. You know? For all those years? Even sex. I guess I just got used to... well... feeling things.”
“Things,” Lucy repeated in a puzzled voice. “Things? Like... what kind of things?”
“She’s talking about emotions,” Scout answered, before Lucy’s imagination could lead them into who knew what off-colored tangent.
Marsha nodded. “Right. Emotions. Desires. Thoughts. Anything that happened to be passing through my partner’s head.” She paused and grimaced. “Which was definitely a mixed blessing when I was married to Alex, let me tell you. But, now–” she broke off to shake her head once more. To gaze sadly at her hands. To sigh yet again. “I just feel so... cut off from all of that now,” she whispered, as tears filled her eyes and then spilled over. “And sex is, sex is... so... so lonely.”
Lucy’s mouth gaped open. “Lonely?”
But Marsha had already pushed away from the table and run off toward the restroom. Lucy turned to Scout, eyebrows raised. “Did she say lonely? Sex is lonely?”
Scout sighed. “Yes, Luce, that’s what she said.”
“Well, that just... sucks,” Lucy said, shaking her head restlessly. “That’s terrible. Scout– We have to do something.”
Something? Scout’s jaw clenched. Something like what? Another trance? More hypnosis? A second shot at terminal insanity? She scowled at her friend. “You mean I have to do something, don’t you?”
Lucy’s participation in anything that might help Marsha, was strictly optional. Even though it was her mishandling of the call back sequence last October that had caused the problem in the first place, it was Scout and Marsha alone whose participation was required to fix this thing. And, they all knew it.
Lucy’s expression darkened, until she, too, was scowling. “All right. Fine, then. Have it your way. You have to do something.”
Scout shook her head. “I can’t.” Return to the chaos that had nearly claimed her? To the cold, bitter emptiness that was hell? And possibly get stuck there forever, lost to everything she cared about? “Lucy, you know I can’t.”
“No,” Lucy replied, steely eyed. “You mean you won’t.”
Scout closed her eyes. Risk her sanity, so that Marsha wouldn’t find sex lonely anymore? Risk her future, her family, so that her friend might smile again? Risk her marriage–
“If you ever pull another stunt like you did last night–” Nick had warned her, last November.
“Don’t worry,” she’d answered. “I won’t.”
“No more trances,” Nick cautioned. “No hypnosis. No mumbo-jumbo of any kind.”
“I know,” Scout agreed. “I’m through with that stuff. Honest.”
She was through with frightening herself half to death. Through with tearing her soul into shreds, and trusting they’d all fuse back together like they should. Through with laying her mind wide open, like a box of chocolates, so that any will in the universe might choose a piece.
“I hope you mean that," Nick said sternly. “’Cause, I’m gonna hold you to it.”
Scout had no doubt that he meant it. No doubt whatsoever what the unsaid ‘or else’ might mean for their marriage.
She opened her eyes and met Lucy’s gaze. She felt sorry for Marsha. She felt bad for herself. She felt terrible for all three of them, and for the damage this had done to their friendship. She felt guilty as sin that things could not be put right. But she’d counted the cost, and it just wasn’t worth it. “Okay, Lucy, you’re right. I won’t.”
* * *
The Lupa e Cervo winery has to be the most secure location in all of Oberon, Liam decided as he pulled into the winery’s parking lot. With its massive stone walls gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight, the building had always resembled a castle, proud and unbreachable. Today, its battlements were manned by an army of knights in dark blue armor.
Liam ski
rted past the main entrance and headed around toward the side of the building, nodding at a few of the familiar faces he passed on his way. You hardly ever see this many cops in one place, outside of riots, or bars. Or funerals.
Being here with them now – being in their world, but no longer of it – was not a comfortable experience. He almost wondered if Greco hadn’t set things up that way on purpose, just to rub his nose in his own exile. He wouldn’t put it past him. The old guy was smart enough to think up something like that, and mean enough to carry it off.
One thing was certain, Liam decided as he finally located the wine bar inside the winery’s famous caves; when this was all over, when he’d accomplished his mission, and learned what he needed to know, he’d have to see about getting his badge back. Not that he regretted his decision to quit the force. Under the circumstances, it had been the right thing to do, the only thing he could have done. But, circumstances and necessity aside, life as an independent just didn’t hold that much appeal for him.
He found Nick at the bar, just as he’d promised he’d be. The two men nodded at each other casually – just two acquaintances, who’d happened to accidentally find themselves in the same locale – as Liam slid onto the stool beside Nick, and ordered a glass of Chardonnay.
He took a sip of wine. “So, what’s up?”
“TLV,” Nick answered, without so much as a glance in his direction. “I hear you’re still looking for a way in. I might have something for you.”
Despite Liam’s attempts to school his features into something approaching bored disinterest, a look Nick seemed able to fake without effort, he was chagrined to find himself staring in amazement. The Universal Church of Truth, Light and Vision – TLV to its members – was the iceberg on which Liam’s career had recently foundered.