by Anne McClane
“Okay.” Lacey looked past Eli and didn’t see his car. “Do you want to ride with me?”
“No. I will meet you there.”
Eli walked off, in the opposite direction of where he told Lacey to go.
Lacey shook her head, took a deep breath, and pulled out of the parking spot.
Lacey felt a surge of excitement as she read the sign on a small, white, domed building set against a hillside: Healing Arts Institute.
Eli had sent her this way after meeting her in the correct parking lot. He had told her she was to assist him in scouting this place as a location, but Lacey didn’t know what that really meant. Looking around, significantly more relaxed than she’d been when she arrived, she was not opposed to finding out.
The whole resort was set against a hillside forest. The scent of eucalyptus was strong, along with something more pungent. Maybe that was the mineral springs?
She looked down the path in both directions. No sign of Eli.
She approached the door of the domed building and tugged on the handle. Locked.
That doesn’t feel very welcoming, she thought.
“They’re setting up for a wedding tonight,” a voice behind her said. “That’s the only reason it’s locked.”
Lacey whipped her head around to find a thin, elegant woman with a walking stick and dark sunglasses. She smiled at Lacey.
“Oh,” Lacey said. “I was just curious as to what might be in there.”
“All manner of things, depending on the day and occasion,” the woman said. “Today, it’s a wedding.”
Lacey walked toward her. The woman held out her hand about two seconds too early. Lacey took a couple of quick steps to reach her.
“I’m Christine,” the woman said.
Lacey introduced herself and shook the woman’s hand.
“What a lovely name,” Christine said, her focus still straight ahead. “What’s your surname?”
“Becnel. Lacey Becnel.” Christine released Lacey’s hand.
“Is that French?”
“Yes. It was my husband . . . my late husband’s name.”
Lacey wondered why she felt so open with this woman.
“I can see why you kept it,” Christine said. “French is so melodic.”
Lacey nodded, not sure what else to say. This only made her feel more awkward, because she assumed Christine couldn’t see her nod.
“I think your friends will be here shortly,” Christine said. “And I will see that you get your tour of the institute, before your time here is up. You must be sure to take the waters while you’re here. Farewell, Lacey.”
Christine walked away, her walking stick leading the way.
Lacey watched her, mesmerized. Christine’s long, diaphanous dress trailed behind her. Sunlight picked up silver strands in the lavender fabric.
“I see you met Christine. Good.”
Lacey whipped her head around again. Why am I so easy to sneak up on?
Eli. With a guy she recognized, mostly from the edit bays at the studio. He carried some sort of tool with a laser pointer.
“You know her?” she asked Eli.
“Yes,” he replied. He stared and said nothing further, right eye floating.
Lacey looked to the guy whose name she couldn’t remember, but he was busy pointing the laser off at some trees behind the dome.
“Okay,” Lacey said. “So what do you need me to do?”
“Meet people. Be an ambassador. If we wind up filming here, we’ll need a face to interact with the employees and owners.”
Lacey looked down at her feet, then at the red beam flitting about the trees. She felt her ire rise up, and didn’t tamp it down.
“Isn’t that a little sexist, Eli? Woman just needs to smile and make people feel comfortable?”
Eli stood, implacable as ever, though one corner of his mouth turned up, almost imperceptibly.
“No. It’s not sexist. It’s a meritocracy. You are the available resource best suited to that job. Do you really want me or Roland to try to cover that function?”
Lacey looked at Eli’s urban safari attire and dour expression, and edit bay Roland’s fascination with his instrument. She relented and laughed. “That’s actually humorous, Eli. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” he said.
“I know,” Lacey said.
“Christine lost her eyesight when she was four years old,” Eli said.
“Excuse me?” She still was not used to Eli’s propensity to turn the conversation on a dime.
“The woman you just met, Christine,” Eli said.
“Yes, I know who you’re referring to, it’s just . . . never mind,” Lacey said.
“Measles,” Eli said.
“Oh,” Lacey said. She wondered how old Christine might be.
“She’s not from here,” Eli said.
“Okay,” Lacey replied. She was afraid of what Eli would answer if she asked where Christine was from. “She seems to manage very well.”
“Yes,” Eli said. “She has developed other ways of seeing that are quite remarkable. You should spend some time with her. As part of your ambassador duty.”
Lacey nodded slowly. “I see. I mean, okay.”
“We’ll be working here for at least a week. If you would like to stay up here, the cabins on the other side of the road allow pets. A number of them have been allotted for crew, one of them can be yours if you wish.”
Lacey considered. It sounded ideal. She already felt more at ease in this place than she’d felt anywhere in town. “Really?”
“Yes. I won’t need you back here until 5 p.m., so you could make the move now if you choose.”
He tapped Roland on the shoulder and the two of them strode off up the path and into the woods.
“Wait,” Lacey said, not loud enough to be heard. “How do I know which one I’m supposed to go to?” she asked the air.
She checked her watch. She had roughly seven hours to figure it out.
Lacey sighed and set off down the hill to her car.
17
The next morning, Lacey sat out on the back patio of her cabin, with a cup of coffee (the coffeemaker was new and the cupboard was stocked), Ambrose at her feet. She watched the sun slowly make its way over a distant, eastern ridge. This place was a definite upgrade from the rental.
She took stock of the week ahead. Plenty of time to figure out what “being an ambassador” was. If all it meant was exploring the beautiful grounds and meeting people, she could definitely handle it. Ambrose was welcome to explore with her, which was a bonus. She would have to go to the studio on Tuesday, but she could still plan to have her breakfast right there, in that very spot, for the rest of her stay. Not to mention she’d get to run the trails around here, a huge improvement from where she’d run around the rental, for sure.
It felt heavenly.
Lacey smiled and Ambrose stood, stretched, and settled back down, this time next to the vacant seat to Lacey’s left.
As beautiful as the accommodations were, reminders of coupledom were everywhere. The two seats out on the patio. Two sinks in the bathroom. A king-sized bed. She thought of Nathan then, and her eyes widened.
Not Fox, not memories of coupledom once shared. And not of Trevor, her current paramour.
But of Nathan. Of coupledom that had never been, and that could not be for the foreseeable future. Most likely ever.
Well, shit, Lacey thought. That’s a downer on an otherwise perfect morning.
Perhaps it was the setting, or the few moments of extra downtime she had. But she allowed herself another indulgence. She and Nathan had taken a picture together, during his surprise visit the night before she left New Orleans.
She refused to keep it with the other photos on her
phone. Too accessible. She had deleted it from her phone’s album, but not before she had emailed it to herself and buried it in a folder. It took at least three clicks and much scrolling to reach it.
There was nothing salacious about it, the picture didn’t reveal any portions of their anatomies normally hidden from view. But it did reveal much to Lacey—the expression on both their faces exposing hidden depths. It was an unusual selfie, Nathan had taken it. Neither one of them were looking at the camera. Nathan was looking at Lacey, and Lacey faced him, but her eyes were cast down, a shy smile on her face.
Out on the back patio of her cabin, thousands of miles away from where the photo was taken, she focused on Nathan’s features. Sandy hair, a full head of it, with very little gray. He was eleven years older than Lacey—if the events of this past summer hadn’t turned him gray, she wondered if anything could. He’d had several attempts made on his life. Lacey had come to his rescue twice.
She still marveled at it all. The first time she had used her power had been on Nathan. Her memory of the actual healing, especially that first one, was very hazy. It was like her memory switched off the first time her power switched on.
Nathan’s shirt was on in the picture, but she could still make out his broad shoulders and muscular arms. She thought of the scar on his back, behind his shoulder. Proof of the bullet wound she’d healed on him, that first time. Even though she couldn’t remember the details, she knew, with every fiber of her being, that she had healed the wound that produced that scar.
She wished she could separate that feeling from her feelings for Nathan. But it was impossible. They were too intertwined. She had first used her remarkable gift on him, and she was drawn to him, and she couldn’t think of the potential of her gift and the potential of a relationship with him separately.
Dammit.
Lacey checked the time. She would allow herself ten more minutes to think about him.
That’s way too much time, but what the hell.
Nathan was a big guy, and ridiculously fit. There was a sense of power in Nathan’s form that she couldn’t stop thinking of.
When she’d heard the knock on her door, the night before she was supposed to leave for California, she had thought it might be her neighbor, Mr. Max. Or possibly Tonti. Though Ambrose’s low growl should have given it away.
Lacey wasn’t sure what to do when she’d opened the door to find Nathan standing there, dressed like he’d just come from a job interview. (He had.) Part of her wanted to shut the door in his face, but a bigger part of her wanted him back inside her home, inside her life, and inside her again.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you must be getting ready to leave. I wasn’t even sure you’d still be here. I just . . . ”
“C’mon in. I leave tomorrow. Early.”
“I won’t keep you.” He stepped over the threshold and stood awkwardly, by the side table where she kept her keys.
She took his hand, but he wouldn’t move at first. He just stared.
“Have you done something different with your hair?”
She ran her free hand over the side of her head. “No. Other than wash it today, no.”
“It looks good. You look good.”
“Quit trying to flatter me.”
He finally relented and followed her to the kitchen. He took off his suit coat and hung it on the back of a chair, then loosened his tie.
They spent an hour just talking in the kitchen, about unremarkable stuff. But it had made Lacey feel so comfortable, it lessened her anxiety about her upcoming departure. It felt like the way things were supposed to be, when you spend time with someone you care about. Who cares about you back.
She had sent Ambrose out into the yard, and walked over to where Nathan was seated at her kitchen table. His arms clasped behind her back. He rested his forehead against her ribs, below her breasts.
She laid a hand upon his cheek.
Looking up at her, he said, “I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted someone so badly. It’s a pain like I’ve never felt before.”
She sighed. She was on fire for him. She found it hard to breathe.
“Me, too,” she managed to say.
He stayed seated at first. Slowly, both hands slid underneath her t-shirt and up her sides. His hands caressed her breasts, ever so gently. He stood and unclasped her bra with a single, deft move.
Her hands at his waist now, she unbuckled his belt. She saw him swell. She got down on her knees and took him into her mouth. As she tasted him, felt him with her tongue and with her lips, he exhaled, forcefully and with a slight shudder.
“Oh, God, what you do to me,” he said above a whisper.
His hand on Lacey’s shoulder, he disengaged, and hooked a finger under her arm to pull her up to face him. He reached back to grip the kitchen table, and leaned back onto it with some force.
“Is this oak?”
Lacey caught his meaning. She was fairly certain the table would hold them, but didn’t really care if it didn’t.
“Yes,” she leaned into him, kissing him hard on the lips. “Yes.”
He pulled her down on top of him, sending her table centerpiece crashing toward the window. She knew they wouldn’t stop for protection—she’d believed him, perhaps naively so, when he’d told her before that he’d been snipped, and had been in a monogamous relationship for over a decade. She straddled him and made herself ready to take him in. Her knees ached against the hard wood of the table, but not as much as she ached to feel him inside her.
She eased onto him, and pressed herself against him. She braced her hands on either side of his arms, her breasts just grazing his chest. They uttered a moan in unison, a sound that separated, then rose and fell as she worked herself against him. In a fluid move—it happened so quickly Lacey barely realized it—his arm encircled her and their positions were reversed. He was atop her, thrusting with an amplified power that she longed to match.
She closed her eyes and let her longing cascade through every nerve of her body. When that exquisite feeling reached its peak, she cried out. The sound of her passion was answered by Nathan in the next instant.
He exhaled and rose up onto his forearms, sparing Lacey from being smothered by his full weight. He gently eased himself off the table, offering Lacey a hand and helping her down.
“Well, that’s a first,” she said.
“Really?” Nathan looked at the table. “It’s almost as if it was built for that type of activity.”
Lacey thought briefly of Fox, of similar comments he used to make. But before he died, the spark between them had withered to the point that they remained mere suggestions.
Lacey walked toward her bedroom.
“It does seem like that, doesn’t it?” was all she said.
About a half hour later, they had both put most of their clothes back on and sat in her living room. Nathan pulled his phone out. “I need a picture of you.”
“No, please. That’s so awkward. I really don’t photograph well,” Lacey said.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Fine, then I’ll get the both of us.”
Before she could protest again, his long arm reached out in front of them and snapped several photos. He toyed with her when she asked to see the pictures.
“No, you won’t want to see these. You were right, actually. You look like a goblin in these pictures.”
She pushed at him and smiled. “I said I’m not photogenic. I didn’t say I’m a monster.”
He finally relented, and she’d asked him to send her the one she now held in her hand. On the back patio of a cabin nestled in the foothills of California’s Central Coast. Ambrose rose up, his attention captured by some small critter out in the brush. He looked at Lacey.
“Sorry, Bro, you can’t go chase that whate
ver-it-is. I’ve spent too much time this morning chasing after lost causes myself.”
She willed herself to get back into the present.
18
The following day, Lacey wandered the grounds. There was an all-encompassing peacefulness about the place. Cabins were tucked away throughout the property, some nestled into the hillside. There were outdoor hot tubs filled with sulfurous natural spring water. A steep path up one slope led to the tubs, each surrounded by a privacy fence.
Even when the cabins were occupied, it had an air of seclusion. You could remain quiet and hidden if you wanted.
She was looking for Christine when she received a text from Eli telling her to put on a swimsuit and meet him at the hot tub farthest up the hill.
Yikes, she thought. What is this about? Maybe, hopefully, finally, some practical healer training?
She hurried back to the cabin, changed into a one-piece suit and threw a pair of shorts and a t-shirt on over it. It was the suit she brought with her everywhere in case she wanted to swim laps. Which never happened, because she never wanted to swim laps. But what if she hurt her ankle somehow? Then maybe she’d want to swim laps instead of run.
She let Ambrose out, he went out to his favorite sycamore and hurried back. It was too sunny out.
Walking up to the hot tub, she thought about how many miles she had run since college. Easily in the thousands. And she’d never had an injury. Nothing worse than sore muscles. She’d always thought she was blessed with good genes, which never made sense to her because her mother was always spraining something or tearing something else. Doing nothing more than a bi-annual game of tennis.
Pay attention, she could hear Eli saying.
Huh. So I’ve never been injured running because of my mutant powers?
But that didn’t make sense, either. She’d only recently obtained her traiteur ability from Cecil. Maybe her healthy constitution just made her a good candidate.
There’s still so much I don’t understand.
She hiked up the trail to the top of the hill, wishing she didn’t have flip-flops on. The very first hot tub was occupied, but all the rest appeared empty.