Marti smoothed her skirt, pulling out her pad and pen. “Why do Jesse and Paul fight?”
“There’s bad blood between them, starting in grade school. Some backstabbing, fights over girls, that sort of thing.”
Marti walked over with pad in hand. “What can I get you to drink?”
Paul’s green eyes were as penetrating as Jesse’s could be. “How are you doing, Marti? I heard about”—he glanced uneasily at the two men opposite him—“what happened.”
“I’m fine, thanks. Drinks?”
They spoke on top of each other, giving her their meal choices as well. As she turned to leave, Paul’s pendant, an eagle with wings spread in flight, caught her eye. Something about it bothered her, or intrigued her. Without thinking, she leaned down and took it in her fingers.
“Wow, that’s some pendant,” she said, avoiding Paul’s eyes now that she realized how close she was to him.
“Haven’t you noticed it before? My dad gave it to me last year.”
Her fingers traced the edges of the wings before she abruptly let go and straightened. “Guess I never really saw it.” She retreated to clip their order on the chrome carousel.
Caty reached up to clip her own order. In a low voice, she said, “You’d better watch that flirting. You’re a married woman, and pregnant no less.”
Marti caught the glint of jest in Caty’s eyes, but the warning came through all the same. She started filling a glass with Coke. “I wasn’t flirting. Have you seen that pendant of Paul’s? It’s beautiful.”
“Oh, yeah, he’s shown it off plenty of times. It’s the only thing his father’s ever given him.”
Marti returned with the drinks, careful now to avoid Paul’s eyes. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. “Here you go. Your order should be up in a few minutes.”
“You sound kinda sexy, with your voice low and husky like that,” Josh said.
She looked him in the eye. “It’s from being strangled.” She turned her back on the three and strutted to the counter, her gait stiff with outrage. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched them.
Josh leaned in. “She doesn’t look all that upset considering what happened to her. Maybe she liked it.”
It was all she could do not to stalk back over and punch him. Stay cool. Listen.
Skip said, “Maybe she did, but she says she don’t remember anything.”
Josh snorted. “How can a woman forget something like that? No, I think she liked it so much, she doesn’t want to put the guy away.” He licked his lips. “Maybe she wants him to come back, and—”
“Shut up,” Paul whispered vehemently, getting up and walking away from the table.
After taking another order, Marti turned to find Paul sitting at the counter behind her.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you in front of them, but I really wanted to know how you were. You seem so, well, different.”
She glanced away for a second. “Yeah, something like that can change a person.” Now that was an understatement.
“We’ve all heard—I’ve heard things, but you know how facts can get blown out of proportion.”
She pressed her hands flat on the counter, facing him. “I’m surprised your father didn’t tell you all the gory details.” Maybe he’d share some.
A bitter laugh escaped Paul’s lips. “He doesn’t tell me anything about his job since I told him I didn’t want to become a cop. I wouldn’t even ask him.”
Chuck slammed the bell down twice to indicate her order was up. She loaded the food onto a tray, glad to see Paul rejoining his friends. With only a few items on her tray at a time, Paul’s table took two trips. She was glad when they were taken care of.
As though he’d materialized like a ghost, she turned to find Jesse sitting at the counter, wearing a surly expression directed at Paul. Despite that, she was glad to see a familiar face.
“Hi, stranger,” she said in her whispery voice.
He tore his gaze from Paul and his buddies. “What did he want?”
“Who?”
“Paul. I saw him talking to you.”
She was surprised to see so much malice in the usually easy-going green of his eyes. “Fine, and how’s your day going, dear?”
He caught himself, then smiled briefly. “Sorry. How’s it going?”
“I hate it. I already smell like a french fry, and I’ve dropped two glasses so far, making me glad they use plastic here. I would trade government secrets to hear one, just one, song by Lady Gaga. And I have a tremendous respect for servers now. Now … he was asking how I was doing. Probably more to pump me for information to feed the gossips around here.”
Jesse leaned forward. “Don’t tell him anything, understand? Especially about you being—”
She put a finger against his lips. “Are you kidding? I’m not telling anyone anything.” His mouth was warm and soft, and she jerked her finger back as though he’d singed her.
Curiosity flared in his eyes, but he picked up the menu. “I’ll have a hamburger with pickles and ketchup and a sweet tea. Dear,” he added with a smile that was more like his usual self.
Her cheeks warmed, even though he was reflecting her use of the word. She hurried to get his tea, then took another order. As she passed the large refrigerator, she paused to peer at her reflection. Yep, she looked awful. Not the tall blonde she kept imagining, but the short, thin girl with the bruised face.
By noon, the place was crazy-busy. Paul and his friends lingered, but Jesse apologetically said he couldn’t stay long. He squeezed her hand before leaving, and she wished he would have pulled her out of the chaos. She was working for her escape, she reminded herself. Thoughts of carefree, windblown days full of sun and fun made her homesick. She sighed, bringing her focus back to the diner and the cacophony of voices and laughter.
Harry, Jesse’s boss, asked how she felt. Billy sat at the end of the counter and gave her a faint smile. Most people were friendly, inquiring about her well-being, tsking at how something so terrible could happen in Chattaloo.
“That’s Carl, the sheriff,” Caty murmured as she passed by. “The guy with him is Lyle, his deputy.”
Carl approached with that confident air of the law. Only a few strands of gray glistened in his black hair, and except for a small paunch, he was in good shape. He walked up to the counter while Lyle found a table.
“How are you doing, young lady?”
“I’m okay, Sheriff. Any leads?”
Carl let out a long sigh. “I think it was a transient passing through, probably long gone by now.” He rubbed his fingers down his moustache. “Have you remembered anything yet?”
“Not a glimmer.”
“That’s a shame. Be nice to throw the bastard in jail and keep him there a long time. Might even have an accident, slip and hit his head.” He shrugged. “Happens sometimes.”
She shivered, hoping she never ended up in jail.
But it was more than the thought of vigilante justice that raised a slew of chill bumps on her arms. Wherever she looked, people watched her, speculating or with concern. Being in the spotlight was one thing. This kind of attention was something entirely different.
The man watched Marti clear a table with deliberation, as though she’d never waited tables before. In the din of lunchtime activity, he could observe all he wanted without seeming overly interested. Every once in a while, her gaze would sweep the restaurant, passing over him as casually as it did anyone else.
She’d looked right at him, not a hint of recognition. He chewed his food but didn’t taste it. He had fought those erotic, demanding impulses for so long. He’d had the best intentions when he’d pulled over to help Marti. She’d been wearing those cut-offs and a tank top that accentuated small, firm breasts. Something about her helplessness summoned those old urges back from the tomb he’d buried them.
With an embarrassed smile, she’d told him she was out of gas, but he could feel her hesitancy around him. It was the same way his tru
elove, the blood of his heart, had acted after she’d broken off their affair. Marti acting the same way had set something off inside him with that spark of distrust in her eyes and the way she stepped away as he moved closer. He’d grown hot, throbbing, and that dizziness overcame his senses. He lunged for her, and her scream of surprise stirred him more.
With his hand over her mouth, he’d dragged her into the woods that bordered the highway. She struggled so hard that he had to pin her beneath his body, his weight on her stomach and hips. She was crying, “Please don’t! I’m pregnant, don’t hurt my baby.”
He’d looked down at her flat stomach, but he’d heard that she was pregnant, with Jesse’s baby, no less. He’d smiled. And she fought even harder.
He’d been surprised at the petite girl’s strength and desperation. He’d wanted to be gentle, but the harder she fought, the harder he had to pin her down. He ripped off her top—he remembered liking that part the first time he’d raped a woman. The power of control, the shame, and fear in her eyes … intoxicating.
He’d shifted his weight down her thighs so he could unsnap her jeans and tear open the zipper. She’d lunged up at him, scratching, pulling out his hair. He fell on top of her, pressing himself hard against the length of her.
His hands had crept around her throat before he realized it. She kept kicking. He wanted her to stop fighting so he could show her how gentle he could be. But he kept pressing harder, squeezing until her eyes widened in shock when she couldn’t breathe.
He’d let go, but too late; her limp body sprawled on the mat of leaves, finally complacent. He’d killed her, or thought he’d killed her. Panicked, he’d stumbled like a coward to his car.
He couldn’t understand his violent streak. It hadn’t been that way when he’d been with the blood of his heart. She’d calmed him. When she left—rejected him, damn it—and gone back to her husband, the cobra of violence had reared its head within him. He’d taken a woman against her will. Not that she would ever talk; he threatened her into silence, and she left town. He’d held the cobra back since then, but Marti had weakened him.
Noise penetrated his thoughts. Absently, his fingers moved down his chest where beneath his shirt he bore the gouges her fingernails left behind. He watched her, wondering if she would ever remember; wondering what he should do to make sure she didn’t.
Marti expelled a deep breath at two o’clock when the last customer left and Caty locked the door behind him. “I couldn’t have survived without you.”
Caty dropped down into the chair she’d just wiped clean. “I don’t mind helping out. And the extra money doesn’t hurt. But if I keep up like this, I’ll be too exhausted to enjoy it.”
Marti picked up the wet rag Caty had tossed onto the table and continued cleaning up. “Don’t worry, I plan to take my share as soon as I get a handle on this waitressing thing. Besides, I need the money myself.”
Caty eyed her curiously. “What do you need the money for?”
Marti sat down. “I’m going home to California as soon as I can. Nothing against good old Chattaloo, but it’s not my style.”
“Does Jesse know you’re leaving?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You’d better tell him. Marti, it’s probably none of my business, but you are carrying my nephew or niece in there, which happens to be my beloved brother’s baby. I’d hate to see you do something that might hurt either one. Or yourself.”
Marti stood and continued wiping down the last tables. “It’s not something I’ll decide lightly. And I will tell Jesse. Soon.”
A few minutes later, Caty turned off most of the lights and grabbed both their purses. “I’ll drop you by the garage.”
They drove a few blocks, then turned left. A large, hand-painted sign showed a car with a happy face beneath the words HARRY’S GARAGE.
Caty got out and headed into one of the open bays. “Here’s your wife, safe and sound,” she said to the car in the back.
As Marti approached, she saw Jesse peer around the front of the open hood. He had a black smudge across his cheek. “How was work?”
Caty snapped her gum. “Marti did pretty good, but she definitely ain’t made to waitress.”
Marti leaned against the car. “Aw, come on, I wasn’t that bad.” After a pause, she added, “Was I?”
Caty made a so-so sign, then smiled. “You’ll get better. You’ve never worked that hard before, have you?”
Marti’s shoulders drooped. “Guess I’ve had it pretty easy.”
Jesse put an arm around Caty, keeping his blackened hand from her sleeve. “Thanks for showing her the ropes, kiddo.” To Marti, he said, “I’ll wash up and be right out.”
A few minutes later, he helped Marti climb into the red truck, then slid behind the wheel. They waved goodbye to Caty, and he started in the other direction toward home. Home, Marti thought wryly. For how long?
They pulled in the driveway to the tune of Bumpus’s barking. After Jesse helped her out of the truck, he didn’t let go of her hand. “Come walk with me.”
“Where?”
“To the river. Come on, I won’t throw you in.”
She allowed him to pull her a few steps. “My feet hurt so bad. Can’t we sit down here and talk?”
Without a word, he swooped her up into his arms. He carried her behind the house, through a thicket of pine trees to the same river that ran behind his mother’s house. Bumpus followed noisily behind, his tail pointing to the sky. She felt weightless in Jesse’s arms, her white shoes bouncing along as they walked.
Her hero, her heart sang.
Stop thinking stuff like that.
The sun cast dancing shadows on the water’s surface as it filtered through the tangle of oak leaves. He set her on her feet, stripped off his button-down shirt, and laid it on the ground for her to sit on. Southern gentleman, she thought with a smile she hid from him.
He dropped down on the layer of dead leaves beside her and looked out over the river that flowed lazily by. His air of hesitancy suddenly made her wary. Was he going to ask her to leave?
He took a rock and threw it across the expanse of the river, skipping it three times. “My friends and I used to have contests about who could get their rock to skip the farthest.”
He was beating around the bush, moving in for the kill. She was too crazy, too different… too whatever. He was going to tell her to move out. Where would she go? She felt a twinge of anxiety. With twenty-nine bucks, plus money she’d gotten in tips, she wasn’t likely to get far. She decided to tell him about her plans before he could say whatever he had to say.
“Jesse—” All the words jumbled forward, then disappeared like a puddle illusion on the highway when you got close. “I can’t stay here. I mean, I can’t stay long.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t belong here. I don’t even belong in this body, but I haven’t much choice about that. I can get used to that part, but not this town, this life. It’s not me, and inside I’m still Hallie DiBarto. I have to get back to California.”
“I thought you had no one to go back to.”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t. My friends—they weren’t really friends.” She couldn’t stop thinking about how empty her life had been. She’d been too busy partying to notice.
“Then what are you going back for?”
“I don’t know. All I know is I have to get out of here.”
He drummed long fingers on the mat of leaves, looking out over the water before returning determined eyes back to her. “What I brought you out here to talk about was… what I wanted to say was that I want you to stay and have the baby.”
“Jesse, that’s nice of you, but I can’t.”
His lips thinned. “I’m not being nice.” He placed his palm on her still-flat stomach. “This little guy is mine, my responsibility, my blood. I can’t let you take off, never knowing what happened to him. I figured you’d go back where you came from, after the baby is born. U
ntil then, I want you here with me.”
He wanted her there. But not you, really. The baby. “I’m not going to do anything with the baby. Once I’m settled, I’ll let you know where I am. When the baby comes, I’ll call you.”
She didn’t want to look at him, because she could see his expression of disbelief from the corner of her eye.
“Marti, how are you going to get out of here without money? How are you going to support yourself?”
“I’m going to work hard for a few months, save up, and drive my car out there.”
He turned her chin so that she had to face him. “Why can’t you stay here so we can take care of you, and be with you when you have the baby? What’s so bad about this place?”
Face to face with those green eyes, she groped. “I was attacked here. How do I know that the attacker was just passing through? Maybe he’s still here, lurking. I had a creepy feeling today, when the restaurant was packed. Like he was watching me. I know, everyone was watching me, waiting for me to crack or something. But this felt different. Evil.”
His reaction surprised her. He got up on his knees leaning over her, taking her face in his hands. His eyes burned with a mixture of anger and determination. “No one will ever hurt you again, Marti.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I won’t let it happen.”
She felt a strange squeezing in her heart as his fingers stroked her cheeks. At the same time, an alarm went off somewhere inside her. I’d be the one to hurt you, Jesse. I can’t stay here, not a minute longer than I have to. Please stop touching me. Yet she didn’t move away, couldn’t take her eyes from his.
She found her voice. “Marti’s attack wasn’t your fault.”
He sat back. “Yes, it was. I should have made sure you had gas in your car. I should have made you carry a weapon of some kind, I should have—” He punched at the ground. “I should have done something. It’s all I can do to keep from tearing up the entire town to find the son-of-a-bitch who did this.”
“Jesse, stop blaming yourself. You weren’t responsible for the attack, and you’re not responsible for avenging it. I’m sure the sheriff and Lyle are doing the best they can to find out who did it, but—”
Stranger in the Mirror [Shades of Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) Page 6