by P. G. Forte
But she couldn’t do that now because, as she was beginning to realize, Marsha wasn’t the only victim of last autumn’s fiasco. She, too, had been maimed; damaged in ways no one else could ever understand.
She didn’t want to read minds. She didn’t want anyone else’s thoughts cluttering up her head. She just wanted to experience her own thoughts, her own self, her own soul.
She wanted to be able to open her mind without the constant fear that haunted her. The fear that once her mind was open, she would lose control of it. That her thoughts would expand, and keep expanding – like a finite amount of gas filling an all-but-infinite space. Until no amount of compression could reclaim them. Until everything that made her who she was, had dissipated into nothingness.
It was a ridiculous, irrational, illogical fear – but none the less terrifying for all of that.
“I can’t keep doing this,” she sighed. Perhaps it was time she gave up being an artist altogether. Perhaps she should think about converting the studio into a guest house, and find herself a new career. It wouldn’t be the first time her life had changed course; she should be used to it by now.
A soft murmur caused her to spin around in surprise. “What did you say?” she asked, certain she’d heard Nick’s voice close behind her. She’d thought she was alone in the studio and now, as her eyes took in the empty room, she realized she was right.
Oh, good. I’m hearing voices again. She shivered at the realization even as the door creaked open and Nick came in, carrying their son Cole.
Nick glanced at her and his eyebrows rose. Scout knew just how she must look: Guilty. Stunned. Confused. She pasted a hasty smile on her face to cover it up. “Hey. What’s up?”
“I’m heading over to Lucy’s,” Nick said, still eyeing her suspiciously as he put Cole down. “To pick up Kate.”
Cole ran to his mother and climbed into her lap. Scout smiled as she cuddled her son, glad for the excuse to hide her face. Cole grabbed for her pen and immediately started scribbling away on her sketchpad.
“I thought maybe you’d like to drive over there with me,” Nick suggested. “I figured you and Luce would want to do a postmortem on the wedding.”
Scout shrugged. She watched enviously as Cole busily covered the page with his scribbles. It was nice to see that someone was having no trouble accessing his creativity. “I don’t think so,” she answered, raising her gaze to Nick’s face. “I’ll probably see her later this week, anyway, you know. At Marsha’s.”
In truth, she didn’t want to see Lucy alone. Didn’t want to give her friend the chance to corner her again. Didn’t want to endure yet another of Lucy’s little lectures on how they needed to help Marsha. Especially not now. Helping Marsha – and possibly helping herself – was sounding a little too tempting, at the moment.
How much was she willing to risk to fix things, to restore them both to normal, to get her art back? A lot. A whole lot. But not that much.
She might risk her mind – hell, she was likely to lose that, anyway, at this rate. But she wouldn’t risk her marriage, or her family. Not yet.
“All right.” Nick’s voice was indifferent. If he was surprised or disappointed, he hid it well.
Scout scanned his face; ignoring the little whisper that said she could know for certain what he was feeling, if she just scanned a little deeper…
“Come on, Cole,” Nick said, crossing to where she sat and plucking their son from her lap. “Let’s you and me go get your sister.”
“You could leave him here, you know.” Scout had to raise her voice to be heard over Cole’s protests.
Nick smiled. “That’s okay. You need to work and I can use the company.”
But that isn’t what he means, at all, Scout thought, even as she nodded acquiescence. He knew she wasn’t working, couldn’t work, hadn’t worked in weeks. As he bent to kiss her cheek, she felt the sting of tears. “Okay. Have fun, you two. Be a good boy for Daddy, Cole.”
Scout watched as her husband and son departed, as the door creaked shut behind them, as quietness closed in on her once more.
She was stuck right now, in more ways than one. She’d promised Nick she’d have nothing more to do with hypnosis, or magic, or anything paranormal. Breaking that promise could cost her her marriage. But, so what? She was losing that anyway, wasn’t she?
No matter how Nick tried to hide it – from himself as well as from her; no matter how he tried to fight it, the truth was plain to see. He was aware of what was happening to her, and he didn’t like it. Worse, he didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust her. And, he clearly didn’t want Cole to be influenced by it.
Scout hadn’t been around when Nick’s first marriage fell apart, but she’d heard enough about it from Lucy to know that Nick had been ruthless in his determination to secure Kate’s safety. He’d given in to Lauren’s wishes on everything but that. It wasn’t hard to imagine the same thing happening all over again with Cole.
The choice was hers. She could do nothing, and watch her world fall apart. Or she could break her promise, and risk the same exact result. “Some choice,” she muttered, turning to stare out the window once more. She was screwed. They both were. Because, unless something drastic happened to change things– “We can’t win.”
* * *
It was only the fact that he had Cole in the car with him that kept Nick from lighting a cigarette as soon as he was on the road. The urge to smoke was as strong as it had ever been. It always was when he found himself feeling stressed. And personal stress, trouble within his own family circle, was the worst stress of all.
Nick knew Scout wasn’t working. Her studio, once so vibrant with creative chaos, had felt empty today. Empty and sterile. And Scout herself appeared gloomy and preoccupied; just as she had for months. But although she was accomplishing nothing that anyone could see, still she spent hours there; just sitting and thinking, apparently, staring into space. What it was she thought about, during all those hours... well, that was something Nick didn’t want to think too much about.
She was his wife and he loved her; he’d always loved her. And no matter what else she morphed into, he knew he’d still be loving her when he drew his last breath. But she was turning into someone he didn’t know, into something he couldn’t even comprehend. And though it broke his heart to see her so unhappy, it seemed there was nothing he could do to stop it.
* * *
The back door to his cousin’s house stood open when he got there, and Nick could smell the tomato sauce Lucy had simmering on her stove even before he’d climbed the stairs that led to her porch. Cole stirred restively in his arms. “Hungry?” he asked, smiling at his son’s eager nod of assent. “We’ll get dinner as soon as we go home.”
“Hey, cuz,” he called in greeting as he came through the door.
Lucy glanced at him briefly, and then returned her attention to her cooking. “Hey, yourself.”
Nick heard the frost in her voice and sighed inwardly. This was the real reason he’d wanted company today: Lucy wasn’t mad at either Scout or Cole, after all. Only him. “I’m here to pick up Kate.”
Lucy nodded. “I figured as much.” She looked at him again then, her expression softening slightly as her gaze moved to Cole’s face. “But, I didn’t expect you so early. We’re just getting ready to sit down.” She hesitated for a moment and then asked, “Have you eaten? Would you like to stay for dinner?”
Dinner? Nick hesitated as well. Once, having Sunday dinner at his cousin’s house was an invariable, almost sacrosanct part of his weekly routine. But not lately. It had been a couple of months since he’d last eaten here, and he’d missed it. If Lucy was offering an olive branch, he’d be a fool not to take it. But what if she wasn’t? What if she was merely setting him up for round two of their battle?
Nick sighed. It wasn’t like he was afraid of his cousin’s temper, and if she really wanted another confrontation, that was okay by him. But he sure didn’t want to do it here, over the dinner table,
with all their family looking on. Nobody needed the agita that was sure to cause.
Besides, he had real battles on his hands these days. Real fights over important issues. The kind of thing that made Lucy’s annoyance with him seem like... well, an annoyance.
So, they’d brought Seth in for questioning when dead animals began turning up with frightening regularity in the town’s parks. So what? It’s not like they charged him with anything. But the way Lucy carried on, you’d have thought they’d locked her baby in a cell and beat him with sticks...
“I can’t believe you let this happen,” Lucy had snarled at Nick, when she’d come down to the station to pick Seth up. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Calm down, Lucy,” Nick advised her tiredly. He didn’t like it any better than she did, but, “What was I supposed to do, huh? We’ve got a situation on our hands, and Seth’s dogs have a history of killing animals. You know that as well as I do.”
“History,” Lucy scoffed. “What kind of bullshit is that? They’d have to be running loose in the park, for them to be responsible for this now. And you know they’re all accounted for.”
Nick nodded. Yeah, he knew that. But it was still a stone they could not afford to leave unturned. “Gimme a break, cuz, huh? There was no harm done. We found out what we needed to know, and now Seth’s free to go.”
Lucy’s face grew dangerously dark. “No harm? Nick, they pulled Seth out of school in the middle of the day—with everyone watching. You think the fact that you and I know he wasn’t involved in this counts for crap against all the rumors that’s started? He’s been trying to put his life back together, and it hasn’t been easy. And now this happens, and by tonight, half the idiot teenagers in town are gonna think he’s the kind of sicko who dices up cats for the fun of it.” Lucy glared at her cousin. “I know what that’s like, Nick. And I’m telling you, it sucks. He didn’t need this.”
Nick sighed. “Look, it’s not the way I would have liked to see it handled, either. But my hands were tied. Whatever influence I might have had in this case, I used up two years ago – keeping his dogs from being put to sleep. You and Seth should just be grateful they’re all still alive, and let it go at that.”
Lucy’s eyes flashed. “I’ll tell you what I’d be grateful for, Nick. For you and your buddies down here to quit picking on my son. Go and find yourself another scapegoat, damn it. Leave Seth alone.”
If Seth was on everyone’s short list these days, it was because he’d put himself there, Nick thought as he gazed at his cousin in sympathy. He was a good kid, overall, but he sure as hell wasn’t perfect. Nick had done everything he could to shield Seth from the consequences of some of his more questionable actions, but, he could only do so much. “I can’t protect him from everything, Lucy. And neither can you.”
But Lucy was having none of that. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do, Nick,” she replied, in a voice that dripped with scorn. “When it comes to protecting my children, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”
Not true, Nick thought now. He had a pretty good idea how far his cousin might be willing to go in order to protect her family from harm. And he knew exactly how far he’d go, as well. Too damn far. He just hoped to God that neither of them ever had cause to go there again. But, it still didn’t change things. What he’d told her then was true – not just for her, but for everyone. Himself, included.
No matter what you did, how hard you tried, or how far you were willing to go to protect them, there was just no guaranteeing that the people you loved would never get hurt.
Lucy’s eyebrows rose and Nick realized she was still waiting for an answer. “Well? You guys want dinner or not?”
“Sure, Luce,” he said, answering for both of them. “Thanks. We’d like that.”
* * *
Adam had spent most of the day alone in the vineyards, brooding over his feelings of guilt and frustration. And nursing the hangover last night’s overindulgence had given him.
Perhaps nursing was not quite the word for it. He could have stayed inside, away from the sunlight, if feeling better was his goal; but it was better to suffer, better to face the consequences of his actions head on, rather than hide from his problems in hopes they’d go away on their own. When had they ever done that? And on those rare occasions when they might have – when had he ever been content to sit back and let them?
Finally, exhausted, aching, twice as miserable as before, Adam turned his sights toward home. It was dusk now, and once again the mansion that housed his winery glowed in the light of the setting sun. Once again, he found himself taking no pleasure in the sight.
The mansion had been built by his grandfather, Victor Stone; the first person Adam had ever learned to hate. Victor had always claimed his only grandson would never have a family of his own – that he lacked the background, the skills, the temperament necessary to make it work. And, once upon a time, he might have been right.
After all, who did Adam have for a father figure during the first decade of his life, except for Victor himself?
But that wasn’t true now, it hadn’t been true for a long time. There had been others since then – not many, but a few. Men like Scout’s father, Gil; who had been role models, mentors, guides. Thanks to them, Adam knew he could be a good father, a good husband. There was only one thing standing in his way – one person, really. Sinead.
As he hopped into his jeep for the drive home, he thought about the woman to whom he’d given his heart. She had the power to grant all his wishes, fulfill all his dreams – or deny him everything.
When she told him she didn’t want children, he’d accepted it, though she knew it grieved him. When she became unexpectedly, inexplicably pregnant, he’d vowed to honor her choices, accede to all her wishes.
And how had she repaid him?
By refusing to marry him. By threatening to name the baby who would likely be his only child, after the man who had made his own childhood a living hell.
“Tesoro…please, sweetheart, pick something else,” he’d begged her when she’d first suggested it, last October. “I can’t name our child after my grandfather. How could you ask such a thing?”
But she’d been ill and distraught and neither of them were certain the baby would even live. So Adam had pretended to give in; confident that, in six months time, he could change her mind.
Now, with less than a month to go before their daughter would be born, he was no longer sure of anything. He couldn’t believe Sinead, so amiable in every other way since the spell he’d cast to end her worries, could be so stubborn in this respect. On the only subjects that truly mattered, the only subjects he desperately needed her to acquiesce to him, she refused to budge or to give, or to bend one millimeter.
Night had almost fallen as he pulled the jeep into the parking lot and, wreathed in fog, his mansion looked even more dream like than ever. In the years since his grandfather’s death, the years since he’d come to own the place, Adam had seen so many of his own dreams come to fruition. Almost all of them. Or, so he’d thought. Now, he found himself wondering if it hadn’t all been nothing but a dream – one from which he was about to have a very rude awakening.
* * *
In a dim, corner booth at the back of The Midnight Bell, far away from the stage where the night’s act was warming up, Liam sipped his beer and glanced curiously at the pretty woman seated across from him. Lauren Degeneris had barely touched the glass of white zinfandel she’d ordered. For the last several minutes she’d been speaking animatedly and at great length about her involvement with TLV. It was the kind of talk Liam had heard too many times before, and it was hard not to tune it out, hard not to let his mind wander. Hard not to find himself distracted.
He stifled a yawn and forced himself to focus on the woman in front of him. The pictures Nick had shared of his ex-wife did not do her justice. The photos showed an attractive woman in her mid to late thirties. But, the Lauren Degeneris who shared his booth, was a knock o
ut; one with honey-blonde hair, hazel eyes and a winsome smile. She appeared, somehow, much shorter than the five foot nine he estimated her height to be. She also had a real talent for projecting innocence and a helpless femininity that he’d bet anything was simply for show.
He couldn’t help but get a kick out of thinking of Nick falling for that helpless act. Learning the truth must have been a real eye opener for the old guy, Liam thought, taking another quick sip to hide his grin. There was only one thing which kept him from enjoying the thought even more than he did, and it was this: even knowing it for an act, Liam still found himself dangerously close to falling for it, too.
It was a very attractive act. He liked the guileless widening of her eyes. He liked the earnest sincerity with which she tucked her hair behind her ear, her fetching smile, her dulcet voice.
But he hated that she was so immersed in TLV. He hated the idea of anyone being involved in that kind of thing – especially someone’s mother. He knew, better than most, what it could lead to, and he didn’t want to see even the pretence of innocence shattered.
“It sounds wonderful,” he murmured as Lauren at last wound down; gladly perjuring his soul for the chance to get inside the cult. “I can’t wait to experience it for myself.”
“It is,” she avowed, eyes glowing as she smiled at him warmly. She reached across the table to give his hand an encouraging squeeze. “And, you will. Tuesday night.”
Liam returned her smile briefly, and then quickly took refuge in his pint glass again. She looked so sincere, so sweetly and naively excited for him that it aroused all his protective instincts. He badly wanted to warn her away from the place. To cut through the pretense and tell her the truth. He stifled the impulse, but it was an effort to do so.
She wouldn’t believe him, anyway. And this was one case where the truth would do more harm than good. He needed her to gain entrance, he reminded himself once again. And, if that meant lying and leading her on, then that’s just what he’d have to do. He might be using her, but that was hardly his fault. None of this would have been possible, if it weren’t for Nick. The bastard had been married to her. They had a child together. And still he’d set her up to be used. However reprehensible Liam’s actions might be, with regard to Lauren, in the final analysis, what Nick was doing had to be a thousand times worse.