by Melissa Good
Instead, her daughter leaned back against the mantel and crossed her arms over her chest.
“It’s funny,” Dar remarked. “When you called last week, Kerry speculated that maybe you were using this whole thing as an excuse to get back in touch.”
Cecilia drew in a soundless breath.
“And I told her it was too late for that.” She paused. “I was right.”
Dar pushed off the wall and headed for the door. “Goodbye, Mother.”
Let her go. A voice advised her in mental echo. “Paladar.”
Dar kept walking, taking the two steps up in a smooth motion.
“Dar.”
Her hand on the doorknob, Dar turned and waited.
“I don’t expect you to understand what I did.” Cecilia put her slim hands on the back of the chair.
“Maybe that’s the problem,” came the soft, bitter reply. “You never thought I was capable of understanding.”
Her mother came forward, anger starting to surface. “You have no idea. You can’t begin to realize what I went through…what is it to lose half of yourself.”
“No,” Dar replied, her nostrils flaring. “But I do know what it felt like to lose the only friend I had in the world.” Her voice deepened. “The only person I could talk to. Who accepted who I was.” She paused, needing a breath. “Who loved me.” She tried to relax the lump in her throat.
“Is that good enough on your scale?”
Goddess. Cecilia suddenly felt very tired. I don’t want to deal with this. I don’t want to deal with her. Just let her go and forget about all this. Let it fade out like everything else. It was so much easier that way. “I’m sure you think so,” she murmured. “I hope for your sake, Dar, that you never find out any different.” She was too tired to dissemble. “It was cruel to you. I know that.” Her eyes lifted and met blue eyes so hauntingly familiar she had to look away. “But it was the only way I could survive.” A quiet regret settled over her and she forced herself to look back at Dar’s face, seeing a serious quietude there that unexpectedly made her see past the common stamp of her features and through to the person her daughter had become.
This was not her beloved, this tall, strange creature, who smelled of sun-warmed cotton and a light, spicy scent.
Perhaps, even that echo was gone.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said.
There was a long pause, as her daughter studied her. “So am I.”
They were quiet then the door opened and Kerry slipped inside, 90 Melissa Good blinking at the silent tableau before her. Dar reached out blindly and brought her closer by pure reflex.
“Hey.” Kerry glanced from one to the other, a hand on Dar’s back revealing an almost unbearable tension. “Everything okay in here?”
“Yeah,” Dar answered. “Seems my…family was worried you might be sponging off me.”
A blonde brow lifted. “They should hear us arguing about who gets to pay the grocery bill, then,” she remarked, slipping an arm around her lover and leaning against her. “I’m going to hurt you if you don’t stop switching that card.”
The tension relaxed a little. Cecilia sighed. “Let’s…ah, please sit down.”
“Sure.” Kerry started towards the couch, tugging Dar along with her.
They all moved down the stairs, the atmosphere uncomfortable and strained.
“So. Did you two meet at work?” Ceci fished around for something to say.
“Actually,” Kerry smiled, “Dar showed up to fire me. I managed to talk her out of it and we’ve been friends ever since.”
“Really?” the older woman murmured. “Well, I’ll go get that tea.”
Cecilia walked quickly to the kitchen and sanctuary.
Kerry watched her go, a thoughtful look on her face.
SHE STOOD WITH her eyes closed and her hands on the counter while the tea steeped. It had been worse than she’d expected, but in a curious way, better at the same time. She’d thought to find Dar cold and remote, her feelings locked down tight away just like they’d always been since her teenage years.
Instead, she’d halfway seen a glimpse of a child she’d thought long lost. Part of her—most of her—wanted to forget that and she felt a definite urge to send Dar on her way and allow her life to return to its sterile peace.
Surely, it would be better for both of them. It wasn’t like Dar was in need. She’d done well. Better, to be honest, than Ceci had ever dreamed she would. She had a good life, a nice home. She seemed happy with her companion…
Footsteps made her open her eyes and turn her head to see Kerry enter the kitchen. The blonde woman paused a few feet a way and studied her.
“Can I help with that?”
Kerry’s voice was, Ceci noted, gentle and cultured, with a Midwest note in the vowels. It went with her wholesome good looks and was at distinct odds with the gleam of intense intelligence glinting off the interesting green of her eyes. “All right.”
Kerry took that as permission to approach and did so, setting a few blue tinted glasses on the small tray Ceci had taken out and adding the Eye of the Storm 91
pitcher to it.
“So.” The older woman went to the white refrigerator and retrieved some ice in a separate pitcher. “What makes you hang around the Capi-tol, Ms. Stuart?”
“My father,” Kerry replied quietly. “He’s a senator.”
Cecilia blinked, then her brows creased. “Not Roger Stuart, surely?”
Kerry nodded. “Yes.”
“Interesting.” Gray eyes studied Kerry’s face curiously. “Does he know about you and Paladar?”
Another nod. “He does.”
Ceci’s lips twitched briefly. “Not his year, hmm?” She took the pitcher and walked out, leaving Kerry to follow her with the tray.
She did with an almost silent sigh, turning the corner to see her lover standing at the window, peering out, her hands clasped behind her back.
Dar turned as they entered and leaned against the sill, the sunlight back-lighting her tall form and throwing her face into shadow. Kerry poured two glasses and picked one up, brought it over and handed it to her.
“Thanks.”
Kerry gave her belly a friendly scratch and wrinkled her nose, her back turned to Cecilia. Dar’s lips tightened and she inclined her head, then pushed off from the window and returned to the couch, sitting opposite her mother. Kerry followed her, and they sat in an uncomfortable silence, the faint tinkle of ice the only sound as they drank their tea.
Then Dar put her glass down and folded her hands together. She hesitated before speaking. “I’m glad I had a chance to say goodbye to Gran.”
Safer subject. “I promised her I’d ask you,” Cecilia remarked softly.
“She kept all your cards in a book. I know she always appreciated getting them.” She considered a moment, then stood and glided over to a chest of drawers. She put her hand on the knob of one, pulled it open, removed a large manila envelope and returned to hand it to her daughter. “You never put your return address on them. I could never mail these for her back to you.”
Dar held the package with uncertainty then put it down on her knees. “Richard knew where I was.”
Ceci nodded. “Probably. But I figured if you wanted us to know what your address was, you’d have put it down.”
“Mmm.” Dar had to acknowledge the truth of that. “Well, we need to get over and take care of things with him, then catch our flight.” She stood up with her envelope, taking in the sight of the slight, silver blonde woman seated across from her. “Take care, Mother.”
“You too,” Ceci murmured, allowing a long, guarded look into the pale blue eyes, and a single brief memory that made her heart clench and was discarded immediately. She stood and accompanied them to the door, pulled it open and waited for them to go through it.
They did, and she shut it behind them, as the silence settled comfortably around her again. She watched them out the window, though, unable to take her eyes off Dar until h
er daughter ducked into the passen-92 Melissa Good ger side seat and the car pulled away.
Ceci turned around and stared at the now empty room.
It was over.
She was safe. She’d fulfilled a promise and now she never had to see Dar again, if she didn’t want to.
That was good.
Wasn’t it?
It was hard to stand here, with the memories so fresh in her mind, and remember a time when it hadn’t been like this. A time before she had to look up to her daughter.
When a small child had sat on her lap and looked up at her trustingly with those big blue eyes as they watched fireworks over the cow fields, in air so thick and moist it seemed to flow over them.
It was faint, that echo. But she could, if she tried, remember loving her daughter.
Maybe, at some level, she still did.
Ceci looked around the emptiness and wished they were still here.
Painful as Dar’s presence was, there was a link there, a solid, living, breathing link, that touched her down deep in places she’d shied away from for years.
Slowly, she was drawn through the living room and into the plain bedroom, with its low, platform bed and crisp white sheets. To her right was her closet, with its seldom opened door and she stopped with her hand on the knob for a long time before her fingers turned it reluctantly, and she pulled the door open, closing her eyes as the scent hit her.
Why?
Why do this?
In that moment she hated Dar all over again.
But her feet carried her inside and she simply stood, letting the memories surround her as her fingers touched remembered wool and her eyes drank in the rich colors and remembered shapes of what was once her life.
His things. Their things. Neatly folded clothes in the blues and greens he’d preferred.
The chest with their wedding gifts, carefully packed away and saved, most from the friends they’d made in the south or his service buddies.
Dar’s cradle and the baby blanket, a gift from her mother.
It smelled of wool, from his uniforms and old polish, mixed with the faint tang of oil. She ran a shaking finger down a perfectly starched sleeve, then laid her cheek against it, feeling the scratchiness of the fabric and remembering what it had felt like with a living, breathing body inside.
Her legs folded and she sat down on a box full of remnants, carefully hoarded and stored away here. She picked up the soft, cheerful quilt that had once covered their bed and pulled it around her shoulders, tears hitting her knees as she hugged it to her, burying her face in the fabric.
Chapter
Eleven
KERRY DROVE IN silence for a bit, casting the occasional glance at the tall, silent form slumped in the seat next to her. “Hey,” she finally said, tugging a fold in the knee of Dar’s jeans. “You doing okay?”
Blue eyes picked up a bit of the sun’s glare from outside. “Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry you had to get in the middle of all that.” Dar gave her an apologetic look.
“Well,” Kerry watched the signs overhead, and changed lanes, “I know how it is with families. And I remember how I felt when I went home for Thanksgiving.” A large tractor trailer whipped by, making the smaller rental car shake. “Jerk,” she muttered. “I couldn’t do much, but I was glad I was here.”
Dar covered her hand and rubbed a thumb over her knuckles. “Me too. Glad that’s over, though.” She faced forward. “You’ll like Richard.
He’s decent, even though he’s a lawyer.”
Kerry nibbled the inside of her lip, debating on touching still sensitive nerves. “Dar, can I say something kind of personal to you?”
Her lover lifted an eyebrow. “Um...sure.”
“Okay.” Kerry made a turn and merged carefully into fitful traffic.
“You’re going to have to give me more specific directions soon.”
“That’s personal,” Dar remarked, with a wary smile.
Green eyes flicked very briefly to her. “What I was going to say was...I know we were talking before we left and all and, I don’t know, Dar. I mean, I just met your mother, but I think I sort of figured out that I don’t think she hates you.”
Dar sorted through the statement, feeling it rub against her smarting defenses. She realized she really didn’t want to talk about the subject, but found it hard to brush Kerry’s obvious concern off. “No. I...” she fingered the envelope, still sealed, “I never really thought that.”
Kerry remained quiet.
“Maybe that would have been better.”
“Why?”
“Hate is a lot more powerful than indifference,” Dar murmured. “I felt like, after my father was gone, she was getting rid of an unwanted problem.” She paused. “Not hate. Just an indifferent dislike that made me feel pretty damn insignificant.”
94 Melissa Good
“So you went out and conquered the world.”
Dar consider that, then reluctantly nodded. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“I think she loves you, Dar.”
Dar shook her head. “No. She loved my father, Kerry. I was just a part of that. Once he was gone we had nothing in common, and all we did was hurt each other.”
“No,” Kerry disagreed stubbornly. “I don’t believe that, Dar. I think she was trying to find a way back to you.”
Oh yeah. Dar remembered the exchange they’d had. “Well, I’m out of relatives I give a damn about, so I guess she had her one chance.” She folded her arms over her chest and gazed out the window.
Kerry drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “You could call her once in a while,” she suggested. “Just to say hi, now that you’ve seen each other and all.”
Dar sighed. “She doesn’t want me doing that.”
“How d’you know?”
“Kerry...”
“Dar. You know what? I think the problem is you guys are too much alike.” Kerry turned the wheel, paying attention to her route. “I saw her watching you and I don’t think she’s indifferent, honey. Honestly, I don’t.” She straightened the car out. “You’re not.”
Dar stared grumpily out the window, a half dozen retorts rising to her lips, only to subside unspoken. “Can we change the subject?” she muttered testily.
Kerry glanced at her. “Okay,” she agreed, as her shoulders slumped in reaction. “Sorry. I know I...I can’t fix my family and I sort of really like yours.”
Dar turned her head and traced Kerry’s profile with contrite eyes. “I appreciate that...and maybe you’re right, Ker.” She plucked at the envelope, pulling the flap up. “Her birthday’s next month. Maybe I’ll send a card.”
Ooo. Kerry refrained from smiling too widely. “We can both send one,” she offered. “I think she’d like that.”
“Mmm.” Dar pulled the small stack of envelopes out and set them on her lap. She turned the first over curiously and examined it. “Yeah. All right.”
Kerry leaned back, flexing her hands and exhaling in mild satisfaction. One down.
THE STUDY WAS quiet, save the soft sound of a hard drive humming and the occasional rustle as the desk chair’s occupant shifted. Chino was curled up on the couch, her muzzle resting on the arm as she watched Dar work.
“Goddamn it,” Dar muttered, selecting a section of text, then copy-ing it. “That’s not what I asked for.” She pasted it into an email then typed furiously and sent the message with a savage keystroke. “And Eye of the Storm 95
you’d better have that in by Tuesday, mister, or I’m going to ram that IMUX in a place even extended cables won’t reach it.”
“Grr,” Chino agreed, yawning and poking her pink tongue out.
“Yeah.” Dar leaned back and rocked her head back and forth, rubbing her neck with one hand. She’d been crouched over her email for hours, trying to catch up on things that had been building all week. Kerry had gone out to pick up a few things off the island, and she’d taken the opportunity to concentrate on her project. “Okay. Next.”
She le
aned forward and clicked on the next mail. “Ah.” This, at least, was moderately good news. Mark’s analysis of the data they’d recovered from Allison had turned up a copy of their friend’s online banking account and that had been sent to not only Duks and Dar, but to the corporate legal department as well.
Dar clicked on it to forward and typed in Alastair’s name. “There.
You wanted a smoking gun, you got one. The bastard was billing those customer’s a ‘management fee’ and pocketing it.” She hit send with considerably more satisfaction this time.
The next mail was from Ankow’s office, and she skimmed through it, making small disgusted noises. “Yeah, right. I’ll provide an onsite aide and escort for you, buddy. Right out the loading dock door.” With a sigh, she forwarded the mail to María. “This is a visiting board member. He thinks he’s God’s gift to ILS, please treat him accordingly.”
A bit of warm sunset trickled in, striping her forearms as they lay on the desk. It reminded her of just how long a day it had been and she surveyed her half full mailbox, then closed the window out and let the underwater scene she currently had as her backdrop replace it.
“That’s enough, Chino.” Dar let her head rest against the soft leather back of the chair. “I’ll do the rest of that later, okay?”
“Yawp.” Chino yawned sleepily, then climbed down, ambled over, and sat down on Dar’s bare foot and licking her ankle.
Dar picked the half grown puppy up and put her on her lap. She scratched her ears and smiled a little as Chino transferred her licking to the underside of Dar’s chin. “Hey. That’s cold.” Dar hugged the puppy and kissed her nose, glancing around a little guiltily as she did so. “You want to go for a walk? I think I need a walk, Chino. Your green eyed friend stuffed me like a pig with that spicy noodle thing she made for lunch.”
She stood and carried the animal into the kitchen to retrieve her leash, then put her down and opened the back door. “G’wan.”
Chino happily frisked down the steps and galloped over to the gate, then waited impatiently as Dar worked the latch, and they walked out onto the path heading towards the beach.
KERRY TUCKED THE bags she’d acquired under an arm and strolled towards the outside cafe at Bayside. The sun was setting and a cool breeze came off the water. She took a deep breath of the salty air and 96 Melissa Good found a seat, then tucked her purchases under her and leaned back against the railing. A waiter drifted towards her and she ordered a straw-berry banana smoothie, then settled back to wait.