by Cate Lawley
“Not Fred specifically, just the additional responsibility of a dog—a very exuberant, young dog.”
“My twenty-three-year-old daughter just left the nest. I’m pretty sure I can handle a dog. Young, old, exuberant, neurotic—whatever—because that is nothing compared to raising a child on my own.” Devlin gave her a curious look. “Is that why you don’t have any pets? Too much responsibility?”
Felicity had never considered a pet. She liked cats and loved dogs, but not once had she considered it. But worse, she’d never thought about why she hadn’t. So she told him the truth. “I have no idea.”
“Do you want a pet? Maybe an iguana or a parrot. Or a turtle. I hear they have much more personality than you’d think.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Now you’re just making fun.”
“Not at all; turtles apparently rock.” He pointed to the right of the intersecting street they were approaching. “The long way ‘round?”
“Sure. And, yes, I do think I would enjoy having a pet.” She thought about it, then added, “A dog. A big dog. Maybe a hound or a lab.”
“You do realize you just went from ‘not sure’ to lots of drool and hair in under thirty seconds?”
“Yeah. I’d never seriously considered it before.” Felicity sighed. “I think I’m allergic to commitment and responsibility.”
“I hope that’s not true.”
His words made her squirm. She’d come to terms with her inability to “stick” a relationship. In part because the prospects always seemed to disappoint, but also because she’d managed to get to a good place—professionally and personally. The fact that Devlin—a man she’d only known a few weeks—made her question that conclusion was unnerving.
Maybe her hormones were running amok.
She changed topics before she could dwell on unruly hormones for too long. “Do you know what the dress is for the reunion?”
“Semi-formal, and it’s in the school cafeteria. Someone’s been watching too many eighties movies, I think.”
“Hm. Maybe. I think it more likely an attempt to recapture a lost moment.” She reached a hand out to steady Devlin as he took a misstep off the curb. “You remember we used to have homecoming and prom in the cafeteria?”
“Yes. I remember.” He seemed a little on edge when he asked, “Did you go to many dances back in high school?”
“My freshman year I went to homecoming with a junior—Gary. My parents weren’t thrilled, even though I remember him being pretty innocuous. What?” When he gave her an innocent look, she returned his gaze with a narrow-eyed look and said, “You made a funny noise.”
“It’s just that I sympathize with your parents. Actually, I have a bad track record in the area of daughters and dating. Zelda still hasn’t forgiven me for overreacting when an older boy came by to pick her up for her first dance. That had a…ah, chilling effect on her dating life.”
“A chilling effect? That can’t be good. What exactly did you do?” He didn’t answer right away, and when she peeked at him from under her lashes she discovered the tips of his ears were pink. “Uh, oh. Now you have to tell me; you’re blushing.”
He groaned. “I had a new job, and I wasn’t coping well with some of the stresses that went along with it. It’s no excuse, but I hadn’t been aware of how much strain I was under until that particular incident. Thankfully, a friend of mine had some experience with…uh, I guess you could call it occupational therapy? Anyway, we handled it, and no problems again. But it left a dent on my daughter’s dating life.”
A sinking feeling swept through her. And, of course, now she remembered that criminal histories available to the public only list convictions—not arrests. She knew he’d have a fatal flaw, and a violent temper definitely qualified. She didn’t want to ask, but it was like her mouth was on autopilot. “What exactly did you do?”
“I can’t get into the specifics, but I gave him a scare.” He stopped and turned to look at her. “Wait—what do you think I did? Because the look on your face says something really terrible.”
She bit her lip. He didn’t look angry now—just concerned. Maybe he’d gone through anger management? She winced. “What are we talking about—stitches, a black eye?”
“What? No! I didn’t touch him. He was just a kid, and I don’t…” He stopped and took a breath. “I know you don’t know me very well, but I don’t now, nor have I ever, relied on physical violence to resolve a problem. Even under unusual pressure.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But you’ll just have to take that on faith.”
She frowned back at him, confused by the tug of her conscience. She didn’t know him; she shouldn’t feel bad for having misunderstood. “But you scared him?”
“Yeah, I did, but I’d compare it more to a Halloween scare than a beat down.” He seemed to consider his next words, because he stared over her shoulder for a moment before he continued. “I’m sorry that I gave you that impression.”
But what she heard when he said that was: I’m sorry you would think such a thing of me.
She caught his eye and gave him an apologetic smile. “Have I mentioned I’ve known a lot of unpleasant men over the years?”
“No, I don’t think you have.”
If she didn’t know better, she’d say he looked really upset and more than a little guilty when she said that. Which was weird, because her history with bad apples certainly wasn’t his fault.
She tried to keep the rest of the walk upbeat, but the tone had shifted subtly. And this time, she couldn’t point the finger at the other party in the relationship. It was her distrust, her habit of seeing every man in the worst possible light, that had soured their walk. Had she finally met a nice guy? If she had, why couldn’t she let herself believe it? And worse, had she crushed the fragile possibility of something more than casual friendship?
Devlin’s heart hurt. He could remember everything from his and Felicity’s shared past. He knew so much about her family: her deep and abiding love for her grandmother, her absent and yet still demanding father, her present yet distant mother. And he knew what she’d loved about college and what she’d hated. Her favorite foods, and though that had changed, so many other small details hadn’t. And yet she didn’t know him at all.
It was a terrible feeling to be so misjudged by one of the few people in the world who’d known him best.
Sure, he’d missed out on some significant events. For example, the experiences that made her so willing to believe the worst of him. And she seemed to actually like him: he couldn’t imagine what she’d think him capable of if they hadn’t hit it off.
It was becoming clear to him that the best chance at a remotely normal relationship between the two of them hinged upon her regaining her memory. Otherwise, there would always be an imbalance. And he’d feel like a voyeur, as if he’d spied through a one-way mirror into her life. He was already uncomfortable with the disconnect between what he knew of her and what she didn’t know of him. That would only worsen the closer they became.
He needed a plan, a truly exceptional plan, to reveal the existence of magic. Maybe it was time to call Tara and see how she was doing as the newly indoctrinated reaper…and ask for a little favor.
Chapter 14
For five days, Felicity had locked herself in her studio and painted. Not any of her commercial projects—she’d just painted without plan or goal. It was cathartic. She didn’t allow herself much time for flights of fancy, because her art paid the bills these days. She had a schedule and specific projects that had deadlines. She had expectant customers. Defying her schedule had been glorious. And in that five days she’d come to a conclusion: she needed to trust a little more. Trust that the future would be good. And failing a rosy future, trust that she was grown up enough to deal with the fallout.
Then she’d painted some more.
And then she’d stopped painting to bake an apology pie. In part for her assumptions and in part for not returning Devlin’s calls over the last week.
>
As Felicity stood on Devlin’s porch with a warm blueberry pie in her hands, she felt comfortable knocking on the door. Proud, even, that she’d turned a corner. She could be trusting. She could believe that nice men existed. She’d even go out on a limb and guess that maybe her neighbor was one of them.
Devlin opened the door almost immediately and when he saw her, he smiled broadly. “Hi.”
“Can I borrow a shirt?” a female voice called out from the back of the house.
Felicity blinked. She was trusting. She’d turned a corner, and she wasn’t going back. Yet.
Devlin closed his eyes and let out a loud sigh. To Felicity, he said, “Please, please don’t go.” And then he turned to face the back of the house and yelled, “And pants! Please.”
He opened the door wide and invited her in. Some of her surprise or disbelief or shock or disapproval—pick an emotion—must have shown on her face.
“This isn’t what it looks—uh, sounds like,” Devlin said with a pained look on his face. He took the pie from her hands and placed it on a small table next to the door. As he ushered her in, he called to the back of the house, “Tara, it’s Felicity.”
“Yes,” Tara, the mystery woman who appeared to be in Devlin’s bedroom, responded. But she said it like a teenage boy would say “score.”
Devlin scrubbed his hands across his face.
“You only have one daughter, right?” Felicity asked, because that would be an innocent enough explanation. And she was trusting. She believed the best of people…starting twenty-four or so hours ago.
“Oh, no. Tara’s not mine. Thank the Lord.”
“I can hear you.” Tara appeared in the living room dressed in shorts and a shirt that were about three sizes too big. She walked up to Felicity with a mischievous grin plastered on her face and stuck out her hand. “I am thrilled to meet you.”
“Ah, hello.” Felicity shook the hand of the woman who appeared to have spent the night at Devlin’s house, had been naked moments before, and had no clothes of her own. “So you’re Devlin’s…” She didn’t even know what to call her. Girlfriend? Lover? One-night stand?
“Seriously? He’s old enough to be my dad.” Tara narrowed her eyes and looked Felicity up and down. “I bet we’re close to the same size. Any chance I might borrow some clothes? The old guy gets nervous around naked women.”
“Thanks for your support, Tara. Thanks a lot.” Devlin didn’t look at all nervous, but he did appear distinctly annoyed.
“I didn’t mean to stop by at an inconvenient time. Maybe we can chat later?” Felicity directed the question to Devlin and started to inch back toward the front door.
But it wasn’t Devlin who responded. Tara hooked her arm through Felicity’s and said, “You can’t leave, unless you take me with you to get some decent clothes.” When Felicity failed to find a suitable response, Tara added, “You can’t leave, because I’m here to meet you.”
Devlin crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re a menace. I’m not sure how Bedivere has retained his sanity for the last few weeks.” But the words held no true rancor. He still seemed mostly annoyed.
“Hey, man. You’re on a deadline here. And I have other things I could be doing, other problems I could be fixing. Besides, you asked for my help. And Glenda gave me strict instructions to go forth and do…uh, that thing I do.” Tara pulled Felicity with her into the living room.
Devlin followed behind them. “Wait, I thought you came because I asked you for a favor.”
Tara sat down on the sofa, pulling Felicity with her. “Sure—but Glenda called me right after you. Did you know she got a cell phone?”
Devlin just grunted.
Felicity couldn’t help it. Perhaps due to her newly acquired optimism or perhaps the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, she was sure nothing untoward was going on between Devlin and Tara. Her new optimism combined with seeing a grumpy and outplayed Devlin and the bizarre conversational nonsense all made her laugh. She doubled over and laughed, and kept laughing.
By the time she’d recovered enough to wipe the tears from her eyes and stop gasping for breath, Devlin and Tara had grown quiet and were eyeing her with some concern.
“Please.” A few final, trailing chuckles escaped. “You’re both completely nuts. Don’t try to act like I’m the weird one here.” Felicity dabbed again at her eyes.
“She’s not wrong.” Tara flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, briefly revealing a tattoo at the base of her neck and a bright pink streak that had been hidden. “So are we going to do this?”
Devlin grumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yep.”
“Cool.” Again, Tara sounded more like a teenage boy who’d just won a video game than a twenty-something having an adult conversation.
“Before we get into whatever terrible thing we’re about to do, can I say one thing?” Now that the hilarity had fizzled out, Felicity realized her visit had been derailed.
“Please.” Devlin managed to infuse quite a lot of enthusiasm into just the one word.
“I came by today to apologize.” She glanced at Tara then back to Devlin. “You know, about the other day, when we went for a walk?”
“Yes,” Devlin nodded. “I know exactly what you mean, and you don’t need to apologize.” He gave her a boyish smile. “But I really do love pie. Thank you.”
“I think it’s only fair that I take some of that home with me.” Tara shrugged. “Say half, and we’ll call it even for today.”
“I’m keeping my pie, and I don’t owe you because you have been a complete menace.” Devlin sighed. “But I will help you fix that problem with your…you know.”
“Right.” Tara stood up and stepped away from the sofa. “Speaking of my problem, Felicity, how do you feel about naked women?” But Tara didn’t seem to expect a response. She lifted her right hand and snapped her fingers.
And disappeared.
“Hey! I like that…” Devlin had started to protest, but he stopped when Tara disappeared. Looking at front door, he said, “I liked that shirt. And if I still worked for the council, I’d file a sexual harassment complaint against you.”
“Pshaw. No you wouldn’t. And you only feel that way because you’re in love. Besides, you know I can’t control it.”
“Exactly, which is why you shouldn’t…uh, Felicity? Are you okay?”
Devlin was talking to the door, because Tara had just disappeared and reappeared by the front door.
Felicity twisted around further to get a better look. She said the first thing that came to mind. “Your tattoos are lovely.”
Tara grinned. “See, she’s fine. And thank you, Felicity. Devlin didn’t seem to care for them.”
Devlin was looking fixedly at the floor. “Nope. Just don’t want to stare.” He yanked a throw off the chair next to him and tossed it in Tara’s direction. “We have got to fix that.”
“Yeah. I keep wondering where all the clothes are going. I bet they’re in a giant pile, at like the best garage sale in the state. No, the best garage sale in the universe.” She grinned at Felicity. “I have cool clothes.”
Felicity took a breath and started to speak, then stopped, realizing she hadn’t a clue what to say. Tara had disappeared and reappeared somewhere else. That defied science and logic. She choked back a laugh. And apparently modesty, because the girl was stark naked. Well, except for the tattoos.
Felicity decided that straightforward was best. “Um, what’s going on?”
Chapter 15
Devlin couldn’t believe Felicity had stayed past the appearance of a girl who’d clearly been running around his house in the nude. Given her trust issues where men were concerned, it was a miracle.
And now this.
“Tara is visiting so that she can help me explain something to you. Are you doing okay?” Devlin looked to see if she looked especially pale, but her color seemed normal and she nodded in response to his question. “Right. So, I needed to tell you something important
, but I wasn’t sure how to do that. And I thought proof would help, so I called—”
“Will you get to the point already. Important person with massive responsibilities over here.” Tara entered the living room—by normal human means—with the blanket wrapped around her like a large towel.
“I’m sorry, but what is it that you do exactly?” Felicity asked. A crease had taken up residence on her forehead when Tara had transported herself across the room, and it didn’t look like it was fading any time soon.
“Excellent question. I’m the Grim Reaper. The newest version. Devlin is the old version.” Tara hitched the blanket up higher.
Devlin sank into the armchair.
“I’m not familiar with that particular type of work. What does a Grim Reaper do?” From the look on her face, that had sounded just as ridiculous to Felicity when she said it, as it did to Devlin.
But it also was exactly the response he’d been afraid of. Unless magic smacked you in the face with incontrovertible proof—and sometimes even then—people tended to assume there was another explanation. Any explanation but magic would do, no matter how far-fetched.
Devlin wanted to kick himself for not realizing what a loose cannon Tara was. Then again, Glenda had called her as well.
He shook his head. “Your impetuousness will cause more problems than you can even begin to understand. And I suspect it’s also the reason you’re having issues with your clothes.” When he turned to Felicity, he found her surprisingly composed, a sure sign that she was still in denial. “What Tara means is that she has all the time in the world, because she can manipulate both time and space. She can bend the laws of physics to appear in more than one place at one time, because she is in fact the Grim Reaper.
Tara waggled her eyebrows. “I’m the one who helps mortal souls pass to another plane.”
Felicity blinked wide hazel eyes at Devlin. “I knew it. I knew there were no nice men left.”