She was so shaken by what had transpired today she wasn’t even quite sure she wanted to go back to work on Monday, though she knew realistically she didn’t have a choice.
Yes you do! her mind argued. You could take some time if you needed to. Actually, you could take any, and all, the time you wanted! Then she backtracked and thought, No, I can’t. I need that job to help maintain my sanity.
Further arguing with herself she thought, You have other avenues to maintain your sanity. What is it about this job that you can’t leave? Who is it about this job you can’t leave? She was very afraid she already knew the answer to that particular question. When Zachary Grayson had touched her hand today she’d seen something that had rocked her self-contained little world.
She was abruptly shaken from her rather circular, and unproductive, mental reverie as she heard a loud rap-rap on her front door, followed by a “Hello! Amanda?”
She called back, “I’ll be down in a minute, Di! Help yourself to a beer, second shelf in the door of the fridge!” After a moment she added, “And, would you mind giving the chili a stir for me, too?”
She could smell the delicious scent wafting up the stairs. As her stomach rumbled in appreciation, she realized she hadn’t had anything to eat other than coffee and a piece of toast for breakfast, and that was nearly twelve hours ago now. This was not unusual for her anymore. She frequently forgot to eat. Why bother when you had little to no appetite?
From Diane came a cheery, “No problem! I’ll make myself at home,” as she headed toward the kitchen.
Amanda could hear the squeaking of her friend’s still-damp sneakers as she headed off on the appointed tasks and cringed inwardly at the thought of her hardwood floors being abused. Amanda had always been a little OCD when it came to the cleanliness of her home. Diane, well, not so much. They’d argued regularly during all their school years about picking up the rooms they’d shared. Amanda knew she was somewhat anal about it, but Di really did need someone to follow along behind her, she thought amusedly.
Hurriedly, she finished changing and gathered her thick reddish-brown curls into a haphazard ponytail, double-banding the elastic sloppily around the curly mass before heading down the stairs.
Joining her friend in the warm, cozy kitchen she saw Diane gesture, with a nod, toward the unopened single beer on the granite countertop, next to her own glass of ice water.
“Oh man, do I need one of these!” Amanda exclaimed as she unscrewed the top. “Not drinking tonight, Di?” she asked.
“No, not really in the mood,” Diane responded with a smile, as she pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and leaned back into it more than a bit tiredly. She wondered if Diane was ill, or maybe beginning to come down with something. She was a little pale. However, her friend was observing her as well.
Diane looked Amanda over with a great deal of concern, taking in the bruise-like circles beneath her eyes, the weary slump of her shoulders, and her continued weight loss. Her friend was indeed walking a fine line. If she didn’t pull herself together soon she was going to land herself in the hospital, again. Not that Amanda had asked for her unlicensed medical opinion. Not that she would listen if it was offered. Amanda was very close to that line, and might have already crossed it. A breakdown was looming so imminently on the horizon that Diane felt she might be able to time its appearance. She’d been doing a masterful job of masking her heartache and depression lately but that effort was definitely catching up to her. The volcano was about to erupt, or rather, melt down.
“Diane, how are you feeling? You look—” Amanda began speaking just as Diane asked, “Amanda, are you…” Amanda broke off with a slight smile and waved a hand at Di to signal her to go on.
They had always been on the same wavelength, frequently speaking each other’s thoughts simultaneously, or ending each other’s sentences. It occasionally drove Diane’s husband crazy, listening to the two of them having outwardly incomplete conversations that were totally understood by each of the women. He claimed that he felt excluded. It hadn’t seemed to bother David though. He’d gotten a kick out of listening to the two friends have their unique type of discussion. Mr. Grayson didn’t seem to be offended by them either, when they were all together. She’d actually caught him smiling at the two of them from time to time, as if he was pleased. Not that she cared how he felt about it. Now why did he crop up again? Amanda wondered.
Diane brought her back down to earth with a crash. “Amanda, you look like hell,” she stated flatly, and glared back, not backing down as Amanda shot her a warning look.
“I’m just fine,” Amanda stated firmly, in a tone that was meant to discourage discussion of her physical and mental health. Her dark brows were drawn together and her delicate mouth was set in a grim line as she gave the chili another stir. She was so agitated that she slopped the chili sauce over the top of the pot and onto the stove top. She began cursing as it sizzled and began to char near the gas flame. Quickly, she reached for the washrag near the sink, wet it, and began to scrub up the mess.
“Potty mouth,” called Diane from her chair at the table. With a scowl Amanda turned to her friend but ultimately ended up unwillingly grinning with her in acknowledgement. Amanda knew she was right. When she got mad her language would make a sailor blush.
“You were supposed to be raised a lady,” Di went on, adding a faux British accent. “What would Lana say if she heard you now, I wonder?” They both laughed. Diane knew as well as Amanda where the language had come from. Her mother had made no bones about it. When Lana was angry she would let fly. She said it was better to let it out in Technicolor than to hold it in, turning yourself black inside.
“Getting back to the subject, I am worried about you. It’s a best friend’s prerogative, you know? Amanda, you really need to—” Diane’s discourse haltingly came to a stop and she began to grimace as Amanda picked up the familiar litany that Diane always delivered to her, using a pretty fair approximation of her voice and tone.
“Amanda, you need to eat, to shop for new clothes, to get out more, to sell this house, to experience more of the world, to move on. Am I missing anything, or can we eat now?” Amanda demanded grumpily.
“Okay, okay!” Diane held up her hands in mock surrender, but she wasn’t done yet. “Seriously, though, it wouldn’t hurt for you to rejoin the world of the living. It’s about time you do. David wouldn’t want this for you. It would hurt him to see you this way.”
Di was the only one in her small circle of friends and family who would brave through the truth, and the hurt, to try to reach Amanda. Lately, it seemed as though this lecture was coming more and more frequently, as Diane tried to foist Amanda into the social activities she thought Amanda should begin enjoying again.
Taking a swig of her beer Amanda shrugged and walked over to take the dishes and cutlery from the oak cabinets. Reaching up, she winced slightly at the ache in her shoulder caused by her collision with the doorframe. She handed the items to the just slightly taller and athletically lanky dark-blonde with no comment and gestured for her to set the table while she retrieved the chopped onions, cheddar cheese, spinach salad, and dressing from the refrigerator. Once everything was set out she turned and dug the salad tongs out of a drawer, shutting it with a reverberating bang.
Diane watched her warily and chose her next words with care. “I know that today must be difficult for you,” she said in a voice so low the words were almost whispered.
Amanda closed her eyes and swallowed convulsively as the knot in her throat began to tighten again. Yes, May tenth was indeed a hard day for her now. This would have been her and David’s fifth wedding anniversary and the seventh year since they’d met. She deliberately looked away from her friend, ignoring the remark.
Diane’s face reflected her hurt when Amanda shut her out by not accepting her well-intentioned sympathy, but she also knew when enough was enough and she changed the subject. Unfortunately, this subject, too, brought its own sort of difficult
y.
“How was work today? Did you meet with the new clients? The Tabotts, right? You mentioned them on the phone last night. How’d it go? Have they accepted the bid you submitted for renovations to the estate?”
Taking a deep steadying breath, Amanda turned to the friend who had helped her through so much. “Thanks for caring, and I am grateful. I just don’t want to talk about it.” In the back of her mind, though, she wasn’t sure what it she was referring to, her dead husband, her lack of social activity, or her day at work. This was the downside of her best friend being there. It was so easy to become maudlin when there was a ready shoulder to cry on.
“Let’s just enjoy our dinner and some small talk, a little gossip, all right?” Amanda said in a forced voice. She should have known better than to assume Diane would forget that today would have been her and David’s anniversary, and Di was unaware of what had transpired at work that day so she didn’t know she was stepping on toes there either.
She gathered a semblance of a smile, she hoped, and began to dish out the chili as she sought out a safer topic.
“Tell me, where is your husband this week?” Diane’s hubby, Eric, was often on the road, and at this moment probably in Chicago. He worked as an IT consultant, and so had to go where his business took him.
As Diane began to fill her in on her family’s doings, and as Amanda polished off her first bottle of beer, she started to relax. She asked about Eric’s business and how well he was doing in the economic downturn, and when Di began to run out of Eric’s stories, she asked about Diane’s job too. Diane was a middle-school technology teacher for grades five through eight, and Amanda couldn’t fathom how she dealt with all those rampaging teenage hormones on a daily basis without losing her cool. Diane was always good for another episode of the daytime drama of an American junior high, or middle school, as it was called these days.
They passed a comfortable hour just munching on their dinner and catching up, and though the chili didn’t taste quite right to her, Di seemed to enjoy it. Amanda tried to swallow gently because her throat was bugging her a little bit, actually more than a little bit. Oh joy! she thought. I better not be getting sick! Her throat had been tender for a few days but she didn’t feel ill, just headachy and worn out. She cast the thoughts of her physical ailments aside and questioned Diane about any little details she could think of to keep her talking, and to keep the conversation away from herself.
The majority of the conversation centered on an upcoming fund-raising event that she and Diane were hosting. The event was to gather funds and volunteers to aid an abused women’s shelter known as D.A.R.E.. The acronym stood for Deliverance, Advocacy, Recovery, and Extrication, as the organization provided all of these activities to women and families in need of deliverance from abuse, legal advocacy, counseling as well as monetary and medical assistance for recovery, and in some cases “extrication” from sticky custody or familial kidnapping situations.
Both women sat on the board of the group who supplied housing, counseling, and monetary aid to women and children who were victims of abuse and negligence. The group was headed by their mutual friend, Heather Mackenzie, who’d once been the victim of horrific abuse herself. Heather, four years after her gang rape, still had some severe issues to work through, and both Amanda and Diane worried about her. Amanda aided the group’s efforts in a more administrative vein by ensuring the organization’s finances were invested properly. She also was responsible, in large part, for all the safe houses the group used.
Diane was in charge of organizing counseling for the families and for arranging for tutors, where needed, for the children who were struggling with their studies. D.A.R.E. had both a private and public face to it, though few were aware of the more underground aspects that the board handled exclusively. Quite simply, in the most severe situations, the group could make abused family members “disappear.” Those individuals would then begin their lives anew elsewhere with new IDs and backgrounds.
After they were through eating, the two women worked together companionably to clear away the dinner dishes, wrap up the leftovers, and load the dishwasher.
“Would you like to stay here in the kitchen, or move to the living room, Di?” Amanda asked as she cracked open a second bottle of Sam Adams. It was a rarity for her to have one, let alone two beers in one night, but it was earned and she’d gladly deal with the headache in the morning.
“Oh, let’s just stay here, if that’s okay?” Di responded, somewhat dispiritedly.
Amanda took a closer look at her friend. “Sure, no problem. Di, seriously, are you all right?”
Di smiled slightly in apology. “I don’t mean to eat and run, but I’m really bushed. I’m only going to stay for a few more minutes. I just want to go home and climb in my bed soon. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. Please, don’t feel you have to stay” Amanda urged. “If you need to go rest, then go.”
Diane, who knew that Amanda had been trying to distract her throughout dinner, felt she had been quizzed enough. Time to go on the offensive, she thought, and she couldn’t go until she got the information she wanted. She raised her golden-brown eyebrows at Amanda’s second beer and began to pry in earnest.
“Soooo…how’s the boss?” she drawled, casting a surreptitious glance at Amanda’s face.
Amanda, who seconds ago been very concerned about her friend, now scowled at her, causing Diane to chuckle at her unrepentantly, Amanda noted sourly.
Diane had been trying, not so subtly, to get Amanda and Zack, No, Mr. Grayson, she reminded herself, together. Together-together, as in a couple! What the hell was she thinking!
Zack and Diane’s husband had been friends for years, and Di and Eric mistakenly thought that she and Mr. Grayson would make a good couple. For the past year they had been throwing them together at every opportunity. It had gotten to the point where Amanda had begun turning down invites to their home if she thought that Zachary might be there.
Amanda and David had initially met Zachary Grayson at a party thrown by Di and Eric, about four years ago. Only upon his purchase of the company had Amanda vaguely remembered seeing him and speaking to him several times at her friend’s home. She hadn’t paid much attention to him before because, quite honestly, she was so deeply in love with David no other man made an impression on her. Also, since she always made a concerted effort to guard herself around others she had never read anything from him. The last thing she wanted was extraneous knowledge of strangers, so she exerted exceptional effort, when in social settings, to block her clairvoyant abilities.
“Mr. Grayson is, I assume, just fine” Amanda replied neutrally. She tried to keep her expression as composed as possible so Di wouldn’t read anything into it.
“Yes, he certainly is fine,” responded Di with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows and heartfelt sigh that said if she weren’t happily married to the love of her life she’d certainly be on the prowl for Zachary.
Amanda thought for a moment about the possibility of Zack and herself as a couple. Briefly her remembered loss and pain surfaced and made her stomach clench. How could she? How dare she even think about it? However, she couldn’t help but go there, especially after what she’d experienced today. Also, she had been taking more frequent notice of Zachary over the past couple of months. Who wouldn’t? But taking notice and taking action were two very different things. Besides, Zachary had never intimated an interest in anything more personal and she was too emotionally screwed up to even think about pulling someone into her life.
Certainly Zachary was good looking, in a dangerously rugged kind of way. Think Viggo Mortenson. He had thick, wavy, nearly black hair, a dimpled chin, and deep blue eyes, her mind supplied unwelcomingly. Eyes you could stare at in wonder, and drown in while not minding in the least that you were, literally, losing yourself. She thought he was perhaps in his mid-thirties. At, she estimated, six-three or six-four he’d look very much at home, she thought, on a horse, with a sword in hand,
decked out in leather and chain mail.
She smiled ruefully at her Lord of the Rings movie fantasy, as she felt an unfamiliar stirring of desire in her nether regions. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair trying to dispel the heated sensations in her loins. She acknowledged Diane’s upraised brows and knowing look with a wrinkled nose and a heavy sigh.
He did have a commanding presence about him that served him well with clients and staff alike. He also seemed to intuitively know what others needed from him and how to deliver it. It was almost uncanny in a way, so strange. Uh-oh… what the heck was wrong with her? Fantasizing about her boss was not appropriate. Amanda shook herself loose of her dangerous mental meanderings, feeling rather ashamed.
“Ahhh! Come on, Di! You know it isn’t like that for me.” Amanda’s quick temper began to surface a bit, but she was more upset with herself than her friend.
“I really wish you and Eric would stop throwing us together. He’s my boss for goodness sake. I’m sure he doesn’t feel that way toward me either!” And, she added mentally, I’ve already met my kindred soul. She missed Diane’s look of humor mixed with frustration as she lifted her gaze heavenward and rolled her eyes.
Surely, no one is lucky enough, twice, to find what she and David had. No. That part of her life was over. She may someday be lucky enough to experience a sort of happy companionship with someone, but she’d never feel as deeply for someone else as she had for David. Right? Again, she was reminded of what she’d experienced when he’d touched her hand. No, that glimpse into the future couldn’t be right!
“Amanda, it could be like that again, if you’d let it, and if you’d open your heart. You act as though your life is over. That’s simply not true,” Di said, looking away. Her gaze roamed around the kitchen. “Remember how it felt to share your life with someone? To feel special? To be able to come home to—” She broke off as Amanda interrupted.
“He wouldn’t understand, Di. No one else will. Not like my David did,” Amanda said softly. “Zachary would think I was a lunatic, and I don’t want to lose my job. It’s all I have right now,” she added.
Amanda's Touch [D.A.R.E.ing Women] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 3