Crashing Waves

by C J Baty

  Sometime later, a light tapping at his bedroom door woke him. Winnie’s voice, laced with concern, reached him through the pounding in the back of his head.

  “Mister Justin?” She hesitated then pushed the door open.

  A delicious aroma hit Justin’s nose as he tried to sit up in the bed. Fresh bread and Winnie’s homemade chicken noodle soup. His mouth watered, even though his stomach still felt a little queasy.

  “Ya’ need to eat something, child. Mister Marcus picked up yer’ medicine and brought it to me when he got back. It clearly says to eat something before you take it.”

  The soup was good. The bread and honey butter were even better. Justin did his best, but he couldn’t eat everything Winnie thought he should. The woman had brought enough for two people. She shook her head and made a clicking noise at him when she removed the tray from his lap. Just before she closed the door on her way out, Justin asked about Marcus.

  “He already went to bed. Poor boy looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He’s right across the hall in Peter’s old room. Do ya’ want me to wake him for ya’?”

  “No, that’s all right, Winnie. Let him sleep. I’ll speak to him tomorrow.”

  She smiled her motherly smile at me, then closed the door softly behind her.

  The food she’d brought was great, but now Justin needed to take care of another issue. He had to pee really bad. Carefully, he slid his legs to the side of the bed and hung them over. He waited. So far so good. He let his feet rest on the floor and pushed himself up. Not so good.

  The room whirled and stars danced before his eyes. Angrily, he wondered when this dizzy shit would be over. Everything he’d eaten suddenly felt like lead in the pit of his stomach. As soon as his stubborn ass stood, he knew it was a mistake.

  He’d never realized just how hard hardwood floors were until he started falling on them. It was somewhat of a relief to know that the dizziness was less when he was lying in a crumpled mess on the cold hard floor.

  “Justin?” The bedroom door opened suddenly and slammed against the wall, startling Justin.

  A look of interrupted sleep and distress mingled in Marcus’s eyes. A dark shadow beard covered the lower sides of his face along his jaw. Briefly Justin wondered how rough it would feel against his own skin. He shook the thought off and continued to stare up at Marcus from his prone position on the floor.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Marcus’s attitude did not help the situation and only caused Justin to become agitated. Though it was directed inwardly. It wasn’t Marcus’s fault that he felt so helpless.

  “I was trying to go pee,” Justin answered bitterly.

  “On the floor?” Marcus chuckled as he came to kneel down beside Justin.

  His hands gently slipped around Justin’s waist and helped him to his feet.

  Once on his feet, Justin extracted himself from the warmth of Marcus’s touch. He saw the look of hurt cross Marcus’s face and quickly disappear.

  “Do you need to . . .?” The question was left open-ended.

  “No. I can handle this,” Justin answered quickly. “The dizziness seems better now.”

  “I’ll wait here just in case.” Marcus smiled; he was always so thoughtful and considerate.

  Justin headed toward the bathroom one slow step at a time. Knowing that Marcus was there, but that he didn’t hover over him, made the trek a little easier. Justin managed to take care of things without falling again, lifting his mood greatly. Returning to the bedroom to face Marcus didn’t seem so bad.

  Hell, who was he kidding: it was that bad.

  Marcus hadn’t moved from his spot, leaning up against the footboard of Justin’s king-size sleigh bed. A glance at the red numbers on the clock by his bed showed that it was eleven thirty. It had been a long day.

  “Do you need anything else?” Marcus asked as he pushed his ass off the bed.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Okay, good night, and you can yell if you need me—any help.” Marcus corrected his words cautiously.

  Justin found that the words were stuck in his throat, so he just nodded his head. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to talk to Marcus.

  Wanted to know how things were going for him. Had he moved on? But Justin knew he didn’t have the right to ask any of those questions. God help him, but he wanted to know. He knew they needed to talk about a lot of things, but where did he start?

  Marcus turned and headed toward the bedroom door. He stopped, took a deep breath and turned to face Justin again.

  “I almost forgot. Robert Wyler called earlier. You were still pretty knocked out,” he said, then chuckled. “He wasn’t too happy that I answered the phone. He said to tell you he’d call back tomorrow and,” Marcus hesitated then added, “he said he’d take a rain check on your date.”

  Justin felt the heat flood his cheeks. Damn it. He was forty years old. He shouldn’t be blushing or even embarrassed for that matter. Before he could say anything, Marcus opened the door and stepped out into the hall, then said over his shoulder, “I’m glad you’re stepping out of that self-imposed

  closet you lived in for so long. Too long. Robert is a lucky man,” and closed the door behind him.

  He never looked at Justin.

  Sleep didn’t come as quickly as Justin would have hoped. Finally drifting into an uneasy dream state, Justin saw flashes of pictures, some that haunted him still. Caroline on the beach with a gun aimed at him. Robert’s hopeful look after he’d asked him to dinner. Moses Lee writing notes in his book. Marcus. There were so many scenes of Marcus. In the boat shed last summer. In his shower. In his arms. Marcus’s long, slender fingers grasping his shoulders, whispering his name over and over.

  6

  ––––––––

  “J USTIN .”

  Marcus shook Justin’s body gently. He didn’t want to startle him but more than that, he needed him to be quiet.

  “Justin,” Marcus whispered urgently. “ Justin , wake up. I think your prowler is back.”

  In a flash, Justin’s eyes popped open, and he tried sitting up too quickly.

  Marcus could see he was disoriented and still dizzy from the way he grabbed the sides of his head. He closed his eyes, cursed, and then slowly opened them to look at Marcus as he spoke.

  “What are . . .” Marcus hushed him with a finger pressed to his lips. He turned his head and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

  Justin followed the motion Marcus made with his head. His eyes popped open wider as he realized what Marcus was trying to tell him. Suddenly in the stillness of the room, the old floorboards in the attic creaked loudly under the weight of a heavy footstep.

  Marcus whispered, “I’m going to go check it out. You stay here.”

  Justin made to get out of the bed anyway, but Marcus pushed him back down, shaking his head no.

  “Like hell,” Justin grumbled under his breath and pushed Marcus’s hands away from his body.

  Justin climbed from the bed to stand carefully and put his feet in his slippers. Marcus was relieved to see that the action didn’t seem to throw Justin off balance, and he hoped that the dizziness had passed.

  Justin headed down the hall to the attic door. Marcus stepped in front of him when they reached the door and wouldn’t let him open it. He stared at Justin daring him to make a move. When Justin stood down, Marcus pulled the revolver from behind his back where he had put it in the waistband of his

  jeans. He pointed the gun toward the door and whispered to Justin, “I’ve been listening to him for about half an hour.”

  “I need you to stay here. Please. I can’t confront this guy if I’m worried about you getting hurt.”

  Justin shook his head stubbornly. It was clear he intended to go with Marcus.

  “We’ll talk about this later. At least, let me go first. Stay behind me . . .

  please.”

  The idea of Justin being hurt again was eating at Marcus. He couldn’t live wit
h himself if anything happened to this man. Something in Justin’s face relaxed, and he gave into Marcus’s pleading words. He pointed toward the door in a “you go first” movement with his hand and a small smile on his lips. Marcus sighed, shook his head and reached for the doorknob.

  The door flew open just as Marcus’s hand touched it. A tall slender body barreled into both men. Justin was knocked on his ass and went sprawling toward the wall. Marcus was thrown off balance but only for a moment. He looked over at Justin. As soon as he was sure Justin was all right, he quickly gave chase behind the intruder.

  “Marcus! Wait!” He could hear Justin yell after him. He didn’t have time to argue.

  The intruder had made it to the bottom floor just as Marcus reached the top step of the grand staircase. Marcus stopped and spread his legs in the ready stance. Held his revolver in both hands.

  “Stop where you are!”

  Marcus could hear Justin coming down the hall behind him. He had to act now so he fired a shot in the air over the guy’s head. The bullet hit the wall beside the family portrait Marcus had first seen earlier in the day. Jumping from the top step, he landed on the intruder’s back knocking him to the ground. The guy under Marcus kept yelling as he wrestled him across the foyer floor. From the corner of his eye, he could see Justin taking the stairs carefully. He had a frantic look of worry on his face.

  “Marcus!” Justin called his name loudly.

  Rolling the intruder to his back, Marcus sat across his chest and held his arms in place. It was the first good look he had gotten of the man. However, he wasn’t what Marcus expected. It was a young black man. Tall and strong that was for sure, but he was just a kid. He was maybe sixteen or seventeen, but not much more. Marcus relaxed his grip upon realizing this, and the kid took full advantage. He kicked his legs up and threw Marcus to the side. It wasn’t enough to make Marcus lose his balance, and he leveled his gun at the kid to keep him from moving again.

  “Don’t try anything stupid, kid. You are going to answer a couple of questions for me. Let’s start with: who the hell are you?”

  Marcus hadn’t heard Justin’s soft approach, and he nearly jumped out of his skin at the feel of Justin’s hand on his shoulder.

  “Marcus,” Justin said softly. When Marcus turned to look at Justin, he could see that his face was full of concern.

  “We both know how it feels to be shot. I think you can put the gun away now.”

  Marcus relaxed, and he returned the gun to the waistband of his jeans behind his back. The anger that Marcus had been rolling in dissipated. He was glad Justin could be the calm that he needed.

  Standing to his feet, he offered a hand to the kid on the floor. Justin drew in a deep breath, and Marcus turned to see a shocked look on his face.

  “Alexander?”

  “You know this kid?”

  Justin, still in shock, could only nod his head yes.

  “That doesn’t explain how he’s been getting in or what he’s looking for.”

  Marcus turned his eyes on the scared young man. The kid flinched and put his hands up as if he expected Marcus to backhand him. This time, when Justin gently touched Marcus’s arm, tiny shocks feathered out and moved through his body.

  “It’s okay, Marcus.”

  “No it isn’t, Justin. He could have killed you last night.” Marcus needed to make Justin see this wasn’t a random burglary.

  “I wasn’t here last night! I would never hurt Mr. Warfield!” Alexander shouted at Marcus. “He’s been good to me and my pa, and I just wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “Alexander, what are you doing here?”

  The kid scuffed his feet on the floor and looked around the room nervously.

  He was clearly hiding something, and Marcus thought he knew what, but he needed the kid to own up.

  “He said if I did this he wouldn’t tell my pa what I’d done. He made me swear not to tell anyone.” Alexander’s words rushed out.

  Justin made a small step toward Alexander, but the boy stepped back, not allowing Justin to touch him.

  “Who sent you here Alexander, and what were you looking for?”

  “He didn’t find it the first time he was here so . . .” Marcus stated.

  “I told you I wasn’t here last night!”

  Justin looked like he was going to drop any minute, and Marcus knew he had to let the kid go. It was the only way he could prove his suspicions. He hated to scare the kid, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

  “You didn’t find what he sent you for tonight because it isn’t there anymore,”

  Marcus said and stepped closer to Alexander. “What do you think he’s going to do when you turn up empty handed?”

  “Tell us who sent you, Alexander. I . . . we can help you,” Marcus motioned between himself and Justin. He used a softer, kinder tone in his voice than he’d used before.

  He could see Alexander wanted to believe him. Big tears welled in Alexander’s eyes then streamed down his face. He was scared, and his body shook from the fear gripping him. But instead of taking the help Marcus offered, he bolted toward the door. Marcus let him go. He stood there in the foyer with Justin, both of them staring quietly at the open door Alexander left behind him. After a few minutes, Marcus walked forward and gently pushed the door closed. Turning back to Justin, he could see the confusion and weariness in his eyes and slumped shoulders.

  “Come on, you need to sit before you fall down,” Marcus said taking his arm.

  Justin sat on the sofa and rested his head against the back, closing his eyes.

  He looked drained.

  “You okay?”

  “I will be, as soon as you pour me a whiskey,” Justin answered rubbing his temples.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Maybe I can find some iced tea in the

  —” Justin’s look caused Marcus to stop mid sentence.

  “Really?” Justin’s eyebrows raised over his widened eyes.

  “Your concussion and meds probably aren’t a good mix with alcohol.”

  Justin pushed himself up from the sofa and said, “Fine. I’ll get it myself.”

  “Okay . . . okay. Sit down. I’ll pour you a small glass.” Marcus moved to the open side bar and poured an inch of whiskey into two tumblers from the crystal decanter holding the amber liquid.

  Once he had handed Justin his glass, Marcus sat in an armchair to the right of where Justin sat on the sofa. The silence stretched between them, and it wasn’t the good kind. Marcus could feel the stress rolling off Justin. He didn’t want to make Justin more uncomfortable, so he decided to ask questions about Alexander, hoping that would let Justin relax.

  “How do you know the kid, Alexander?”

  “Joe and his wife, Mable, moved here sixteen or seventeen years ago. My father gave him a job as our groundskeeper, and Mable helped Winnie in the kitchen for a while. She died about a year after they moved here. Alexander was just a baby. Joe has raised him ever since all by himself.” Justin finished his drink and set the glass on the table beside the sofa.

  “Caroline—” he started to say, then stopped and looked over to Marcus, then away quickly. “She fired Joe last spring. She claimed that Alexander had been spying on her and looking at her when she was undressed.”

  “So, you hired them back after . . .”

  “Yes, when I found out that Joe hadn’t been able to find any steady work since he left the Manor, I called him and offered his job back.”

  Justin grew quiet again, seemingly caught up in his own thoughts. Marcus watched his face carefully. It was still a very handsome face. Even though the activities of the last twenty-four hours had left dark circles under his eyes. With rest, he would be fine. There was a sandy colored growth of facial hair that outlined his strong jaw, and Marcus thought it looked good on him.

  He’d never seen Justin when he wasn’t clean-shaven. Justin interrupted his ponderings with a question of his own.

  “What did you mean when y
ou told Alexander that he didn’t find what he was sent here for?”

  “When I arrived here earlier today and you and Peter were still at the hospital, Chief Lee was here. He’d been looking over the attic; I assume to determine if what happened to you was an accident. By the way, he was not happy to see me.”

  “What did he say,” Justin asked as he moved forward to the edge of the sofa.

  “He wanted to know why I was here and offered some advice.”

  “Oh yeah, what?”

  “That I should ‘take myself back to the big city and play cops and robbers there.’ I believe he’s been keeping an eye on what I’ve been doing. The question is why would he do that.”

  “I don’t know. What I don’t understand is why someone is searching the attic at all? The only things up there are family mementos and a few heirlooms.”

  “I believe they were looking for your father’s journals.” Marcus sat very still waiting for Justin’s reaction.

  “Journals?” Justin looked even more confused.

  “As I was looking through the attic this afternoon, I came across several boxes that had not been opened and dumped out. They were actually pushed in a corner hidden behind several large steamer trunks. The intruder probably hadn’t made it to that area before you surprised him. One of the

  boxes that had been overturned contained six of the large leather journals.

  They were scattered among the broken pottery and glass. I moved them as well as the three large boxes with journals to my room.”

  Justin absorbed what Marcus had told him, looking as if he was trying to process the information before he finally spoke again.

  “You think whoever it was that broke in here last night was looking for my father’s journals? That’s crazy, Marcus. What on earth could my father have put in those journals that someone would attempt to steal them?”

  “I briefly scanned through two of them, but I think it’s something that you need to look at for yourself. I believe there are more of them as well.”

  Justin covered his mouth with his hand to hide his yawn.

  “Hey, we can talk about this tomorrow. It’s nearly three in the morning. Let’s get you back up to your bed.” Marcus stood and offered Justin his hand.