The Edge of Recall

by Kristen Heitzmann

  “She was very sure of herself.” The opposite of Tessa, he realized, and while it had attracted, it had also troubled him. “I’m not sure I would have attempted anything if she hadn’t taken the lead.”

  “How long were you together?”

  “A little over two years.”

  “Why didn’t you marry her?”

  “Honestly, Tess!” He regripped the wheel and composed himself. “She wanted my silver spoon more than she wanted me. Unfortunately it wasn’t all she imagined, and when she found someone with a shinier spoon, she took it.”

  Tessa stared at him so hard he scowled.

  “It happens.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No need.”

  She chewed her nail. “What did you do?”

  “Moved on. Focused on what really matters.”

  “What really matters?”

  He turned. “Were you always this talkative?”

  She nodded.

  He dropped his head back against the headrest. “Success.”

  “You mean money?”

  “I mean success in all areas, faith, friendship, and yes, finances.”

  “You really want this project to work.”

  “I do.”

  “You could have spent yesterday creating exactly what Rumer Gaston wanted.”

  “I already had.” He glanced at her. “But you wouldn’t have supported it.”

  “It didn’t feel right.”

  “That’s where all your decisions come from, don’t they? Your feelings.”

  She frowned. “I’ve been known to think.”

  “Really, though, it’s as if you attach some emotion to everything, even words. The way you sensed what Petra was feeling underneath the demands.”

  “I’m only guessing.”

  “I think you hit it dead on. But I would never have deduced as much.”

  “You were distracted.”

  He slid her a glance. “Not as much as you might think. That kind of beauty is riveting, but it’s not real. Not to reach out and touch her. Not like you.”

  Tessa laughed out loud. “You’re saying if Petra and I were lined up and someone told you to take your pick, you’d reach for me?”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  “And regretted it within seconds.”

  “Yes, well, there’s regret and there’s regret, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “Picking Petra would be like gorging on sweets.”

  “And I’m like eating your vegetables?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You can make this an insult if you want. In point of fact, I like vegetables, as long as they don’t start out frozen and end up boiled within an inch of their lives.”

  She folded her arms. “So I’m good for you.”

  “That can’t be right.”

  “You know, Smith”—she skewered him with a glance—“you could just let a compliment stand.”

  “What fun would that be?”

  “This is fun?”

  He cocked his head. “Shockingly, yes.”

  She faced forward with an odd expression.

  He said, “What?”

  “It’s almost like we’re friends.”

  “We are friends, Tess. I know I didn’t pass with flying colors the last time. I’m not sure I’m much better now, but the thought appeals to me.”

  Her hands made little fists on her knees. “I just keep—”

  “Dredging up the past. You could drain the pond, you know.”

  “Could I?” The eyes she turned to him were swollen with uncertainty.

  “Starting with not despising me.”

  “I don’t.” She almost sounded convinced.

  “We could pretend we’ve just met, and I admire your work, and you think I’m spectacular.”

  She shook her head. “I admire your work, and you think I’m spectacular.”

  “We’re mutual admirers, and I do think you’re spectacular. You were last night.”

  She put her hands over her face. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

  “It’s called letting a compliment stand.”

  A smile peeked out behind her palms. “So that’s what it’s like.”

  He smiled back, amazed by how good it felt. “That’s what it’s like.”

  CHAPTER

  15

  Tessa boarded the private jet, trying not to ogle the opulent furnishings, leather seats that looked softer than any chair in her home, polished wood trim that shone like glass, flat-screen TV and surround-sound speakers. She had worked with affluent clients, but none had sent a jet like this for her to meet them for a chat. Smith seemed at ease with it, so she kept her remarks to herself.

  A pilot and copilot greeted them from the open cockpit, and an attractive middle-aged attendant offered them the first two of eight seats. The only thing resembling all the other flights she’d taken was the seat belt and the roaring rush and thrust of the takeoff.

  When they were in the air, Smith turned to her. “So I think it only fair you tell me your status.”

  “My status?”

  “Are you seeing someone?”

  “Besides Dr. Brenner?”

  “I thought that was—”

  She grinned. “Oh, you mean personally.”

  “Did you just tease me?”

  “I guess so.”

  Smith pressed a hand to his heart. “I’m honored.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “To be the victim?”

  “Quite. Now answer the question.”

  “I’m not seeing anyone.” She squished deeper into the seat. “I haven’t been with someone for two years like you—or even one. I haven’t dated all that much.”

  “I can’t believe that, Tess.”

  “Why not? You think I’m not worth the trouble.”

  He crossed his arms. “That’s not exactly what I said. Besides, I saw you turn heads. I heard guys talking. Until they realize what a handful you are, I’d think there’d be plenty of interest.” He said the last with a glint, only half kidding.

  She shrugged. “When someone asks me out, I think, he seems nice enough. How long before he proves me wrong?”

  “Doomed from the start, hmm?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “So if I wanted to date you—”

  Her heart hit her ribs.

  “Say, take you out to dinner, you’d click your stopwatch and wait for me to disappoint you?”

  “Dr. Brenner calls it ‘deserted child syndrome,’ when a primary relationship ending in betrayal makes it hard to trust.”

  “Ever?”

  She shrugged. The attendant came by with coffee and Danish pastries. Tessa accepted a cup, though she should try to sleep instead of caffeinating. Two hours wasn’t enough to stay sharp, and she had no idea what to expect from this meeting. If she spoke up for Petra, Rumer Gaston could decide he wanted someone else handling the landscape. Would Smith fight for or fire her?

  He chose a cheese Danish and asked for tea instead of coffee, then turned. “What else does Dr. Brenner say?”

  “That I shouldn’t be dealing with you and a labyrinth at once. He called it two stressors and no safety net.”

  “He knows about me?” Smith looked genuinely stunned. “That’s disconcerting.”

  “You’re a faceless stressor. He’s more concerned about the labyrinth.”

  “Why?” His brow furrowed.

  “When my dad left, I started having nightmares. Mom and Dr. Brenner helped me deal with them until she died. But my running, screaming, into the woods didn’t work for my aunt Estelle, who got charge of me, so she asked Dr. Brenner to let me stay in a nice facility until it was safe to let me out.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  Smith frowned. “What has that to do with labyrinths?”

  “They’re an element in the nightmares, usually complete with a monster.”

  “I thought you liked t
he things! You build them, Tess.” He no longer looked sleepy at all.

  She must be past caring to tell him all this. “My last memory of my dad included a labyrinth we saw from his airplane. The image stayed with me so powerfully I studied everything I could find about them. And I love creating them, walking them. Just not in my sleep.”

  He studied her a long moment. “Are you looking for him when you walk the path?”

  “For Dad?” Her chest squeezed. “Only in the dreams. I can’t ever find him, but I keep trying and trying.”

  Smith’s face softened. “Is it ever time to stop trying?”

  Tears stung her eyes. “My mind doesn’t think so. Dr. Brenner believes there’s something we haven’t uncovered.” Smith would never think of dating her again.

  “Something about your dad?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “That’s hard.”

  She lowered her chin. “I guess it is, but it’s been so long, it’s just life.”

  He reached over and took her hand in his warm, smooth palm, his strong fingers. “I’m glad you told me. It explains a lot.”

  Smith felt the tension in her fine-boned, freshly calloused hand and let go.

  She slid it into her lap and looked away. “Any chance we can forget this conversation?”

  “Not if forgetting the kiss is any measure.”

  She turned. “I thought you wiped that whole night out.”

  “It doesn’t work that way, Tess. Refusing to address something doesn’t mean it goes away.” Then something occurred to him. “Was that part of it? The panic?”

  Her jaw tensed. “I don’t know what that was. It hasn’t happened before.”

  “I’ve never gotten that response from a kiss.”

  She huffed. “It wasn’t that.”

  “I wouldn’t mind leaving you breathless, but not gasping. Definitely not the shaking, voiceless pallor.”

  She glared. “It was not the kiss. That left me—”

  “What.”

  “Nothing.”

  “You started saying it, now finish.” It delighted him to turn it back on her.

  She shook her head.

  “Shall I tell you how it left me?”

  “I know how.” Her words snapped like crackers on New Year’s Day.

  He tipped his head. “You know what I said, not what I felt.”

  “You turned and ran like Hermes with his feet on fire.”

  “Because I didn’t expect it to be so … good.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What did you expect?”

  “Nothing. I acted without premeditation, on instinct if you will. I’d made you cry and I hadn’t meant to and it seemed the thing to do.”

  “Kiss and make it better?”

  “Yes, to put it foolishly.” He shoved his fingers into his hair. “I meant to comfort, but then it wasn’t that at all. It was … brilliant, and I’d like to do it again. I’d like to do it a lot. All the time. And that is why I ran like Hermes with his feet afire.”

  She stared, speechless.

  “Tessa.” He moved the breakfast tray to the floor beside their seats and rotated his to face her. “Can I try to show you I’m not a monster?”

  “I know you’re not.”

  He untangled her hands and held them firmly in his own. “You don’t believe it, but I’ve cared for you from the start.” He saw the skepticism fill her eyes. “The thought terrified me when I was too callow to handle what I saw. It doesn’t anymore.”

  She searched his face. “I just told you I spent time in a mental hospital. I have incurable nightmares and don’t trust anyone.”

  “You trust Dr. Brenner.”

  “I’m not in love with him.”

  Smith raised his brows.

  “I mean … I don’t mean I am with you. It’s just … not the same thing.”

  “I certainly hope not. Sharing puts me in a rotten temper, and I tend to say things like, ‘Bog off and good riddance.’ ”

  A smile tugged at her mouth.

  “As Bair says, a sane, safe woman didn’t make me happy, so why not take a walk on the wild side? Feel free to chip in here anytime, before I go completely over.”

  She shook her head. “You seriously need to sleep.”

  “Without a doubt.” He couldn’t believe he’d said half of what he’d said, but for the first time in too long he felt unfettered. “I need sleep, and I will, but you have to tell me if I’m off course. Otherwise I plan to court you in a manner that leaves no doubt as to my intentions.”

  She drew a jagged breath. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means that I let you slip out of my life once, but I won’t again unless you tell me—”

  “To bog off and good riddance?”

  “That does make the point.” His chest tightened. “Is it what you want?”

  She shook her head.

  “I told you friendship appeals to me, but I have to say I don’t think it will for long. I’m letting you know up front so you’re not shocked when the game changes.” Her concern was palpable, but she hadn’t run screaming. Probably because they were thousands of feet above the earth. “I’m going to get some rest now.”

  “Okay.”

  “Haricot verts crisply steamed and tossed with crushed shallots and kosher salt.”

  “What?”

  “One of the vegetables I especially like.” He raised her hand and kissed her knuckles. A smile broke over her face that shot a piercing pang through his chest. He’d never felt protective around Danae—defensive, but not protective. Now he believed he’d do everything in his power to keep from hurting Tess again. He released her hand. “Get some rest.”

  Absolutely impossible with her heart trying to break through her rib cage. She dropped her head back against the seat and breathed with difficulty, not gasping terror, but a reckless joy. Trusting Smith with her emotions was like letting the boggy ground suck her in until she could no longer fight, only let it take her deeper and deeper. He’d rejected her once. He’d do it again. And she’d be years getting over it.

  But until then …

  She touched the knuckles he’d kissed. He’d never done anything so intimate. Not even his spontaneous kiss the night before last. He’d said that was instinctive. This had been intentional. Her eyes closed. She loved how they’d spent the night, sharing ideas and feeding each other’s creative enthusiasm, though it had left her vulnerable.

  Even if it only lasted a little while …

  He’d been attracted to Danae’s self-assurance. He wouldn’t find it in her. She knew her business and did it well. But it scarcely masked the personal doubts that lurked inside. So what was it he thought he saw?

  She closed her eyes. Smith’s breathing had slowed and deepened, drawn thickly into his throat. She’d never heard him sleep, but the sound of it now made her drowsier still. A hungry, lapping drowsiness.

  Woods spreading before her. No path. No hedge. Silver trees and darkness. Her feet make no impression. Branches snag her nightgown, tear the silky edge of the blanket she rubs with her fingers. She weaves between the trunks, faster and faster. She runs, her face wet with tears.

  “Daddy!”

  The darkness comes together and looms over her. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

  She hides it, hides it down deep and shakes her head.

  “And you won’t say a word. Not one word.”

  She woke with a jolt to find Smith watching her. “Did I scream?”

  “Not yet.”

  She’d been working up to it; she could tell by the dampness of her chest, the pumping in her temples. He had caught her hand in his and ran his thumb slowly back and forth along her index finger.

  “It was either wake you or give our flight attendant a scare. Bad dream?”

  She swallowed. “I don’t actually have them all the time.”

  “Often enough, it seems.”

  She frowned. “The weird thing is, there was a monster but no labyrin
th. And he spoke.”

  “What did he say?”

  Her throat closed around the words. “I don’t know.”

  The attendant brought smoked turkey on foccacia, rose-cut radishes, chocolate-dipped wafer cookies, and sweet, fresh grapes. Definitely not typical airline fare. Smith brought the trays up between their recliners to form a joint surface, and once again she was sharing a meal with him.

  He said, “Would you like me to bless this?”

  Her faith was private, accessed meditatively, experientially. She and Mom had attended many churches, no one denomination offering everything they looked for. Mom had said once under a sky of stars that it was more church to her than any building, but Tessa nodded. Smith’s quaint prayers warmed her.

  He thanked God for the food and the opportunity before them. Not just success with Rumer Gaston, but for their friendship and maybe more. The thought caused a shiver down her spine. She looked at him. Something subtle had changed, a softening in the tightness around his eyes and mouth.

  “Still shaky?” His voice was barely louder than her thoughts.

  “Just processing.”

  “The nightmare?”

  “I don’t know why it’s changed.”

  “Is it always the same?”

  She shook her head. “No, but it’s always a labyrinth, and the monster chases or blocks me. It doesn’t talk and it doesn’t happen when I’m awake.” She gripped her hands. “Dr. Brenner called the panic attack new ground.”

  “Is that good?”

  “It doesn’t feel like it. He thinks I’m blocking something, and any breakthrough is good—except I shouldn’t be doing it without him.”

  “Maybe he’s the block and I should have a shot.”

  She jolted.

  “Why not? I won’t even charge.” One side of his mouth pulled up. “Tell me the rest. Now the monster speaks instead of herding you.”

  She wasn’t at all sure she could do this. It was one thing to pour out every detail to her therapist. Was she out of her mind telling Smith these things?

  He prodded. “It talks, but you can’t understand what it’s saying.”

  “No, I understand. It sa—” The block was like a blow. “You won’t say a word. Not one word.”

  “Tess?”

  She dropped the sandwich onto the plate and buried her shaking hands in her lap.

  “Maybe the monster’s changing because you’re not alone anymore. Maybe this monster, whatever it is, wants you to feel isolated.”