“You needed it,” he said unapologetically, then turned away and busied himself arranging new logs atop the embers of the old fire.
I shook my head and ran my fingers through my tangled hair. “I’m furious with you,” I spluttered without any real conviction, because I actually felt wonderfully rested for the first time in days.
Dan turned back to me and grinned. “Now why did I know in advance that you were going to say some bitchy thing like that?”
“God, I must look like hell,” I said, ignoring the sarcasm.
He regarded me critically for a few seconds in the flickering light flaring from the fresh flames in the fireplace. “Yes,” he agreed, “you do look absolutely terrible. Maybe you should take another ten-hour nap.”
I stood and aimed a punch at his midsection. He caught my wrist in flight and held me off at arm’s length. “Temper, temper!” he teased.
“You promised me a wonderful romantic dinner and incredible lovemaking,” I accused.
Dan grinned. “Let it never be said that Dan Freedman doesn’t keep his promises.” He smiled, pulling me closer and slipping his hand into the front of my loose robe. “Which would you like first, the main course or dessert!”
Snuggling close to the tingling warmth of his hand on my breast, I looked up into his sparkling green eyes with feigned innocence. “Why don’t we start with a little appetizer, then work our way up to the main course?” I suggested, letting my robe slip to the floor and reaching for his belt buckle.
Within moments we both stood naked, our lips and our bodies welded together in the dancing ruby light of the fire.
All around us windows rattled and the timbers of the old house groaned and creaked under the punishing assault of wind and rain as, oblivious to the worst that nature could deliver, we kissed with deepening passion.
Then, somehow, the soft throw from the sofa was spread on the carpet and we sank slowly to our knees in perfect unison.
I threw my head back joyfully as Dan’s lips moved to my neck, my breasts, then ever downward…to the very core of my being with sweet, fiery kisses.
The unspent fury of the crashing waves on the shore behind the house was nothing to the soaring crescendo of my desire as I fell back onto the velvety softness of the throw and urged my new lover to make of us one single, magical being.
I don’t know how long we remained together like that—an hour, two hours, more—for time had ceased to have any meaning, except as measured by the flaring and gradual decline of the firelight on our skin, the urgent rising and honeyed ebbing of our unleashed passions, the whispered vows and tender oaths we swore to one another.
At last we could do no more and lay cradled softly in one another’s arms, all passion completely spent. Only then did I dare to smile and make a little joke.
“We really should try doing this in a bed sometime.” I giggled. “I hear it’s quite comfortable.”
“A bed?” Dan managed to look astonished. “Now there’s an original idea. I’d thought we’d work our way up to that, after we’d done the kitchen table and the bathroom.”
I kissed him tenderly and got to my knees, peering into the shadows for some sign of my robe. I found it in a heap beneath the sofa and got to my feet, untangling it. “Speaking of bathrooms,” I said, “I’m going upstairs to visit mine now, and maybe I’ll even put on some clothes.”
Dan propped himself up on one elbow, watching appreciatively as I wrapped the robe around my body. “Okay,” he said, “but I can’t promise that I’ll let you keep them on for very long. I like you much better stark naked.”
“I’ll be happy to get stark naked anytime you say,” I said and laughed. I stepped over him and put my hands on my hips. “In the meantime,” I reminded him, “didn’t I once hear you mention something about dinner? My stomach is beginning to rumble.”
“Oh, yeah, dinner. Let me get right on that,” he replied, not moving.
“I’m going up now,” I said, moving toward the stairs. “And there’d better be some serious cooking going on by the time I get back.”
“Nag, nag, nag!” Dan laughed and rolled over, searching for his clothes.
I stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned to watch him for a moment. The Maidenstone Light suddenly flashed past a window across the room. I automatically raised my eyes to the sudden burst of illumination filling the room…and froze. My mouth dropped open and, as the window went dark again, I stood there gaping at it.
Dan gave me a puzzled look. “Sue, what’s the matter?”
Tearing my eyes from the window, I looked down at him and then shook my head. “Nothing, the, uh, lighthouse beacon…” I stammered. “It startled me.”
He laughed. “I was going to say you looked like you’d just seen a ghost, but in this house that would probably be a mistake.” He found his shirt and pulled it over his head. “You’d better get moving if you want some dinner,” he said.
I nodded dumbly and made my way slowly upstairs with the disconcerting feeling that cold, calculating eyes were boring into my back. For, in the brief instant that the lighthouse beacon had filled the room, I had seen a face pressed up against the streaming window, a face rendered unrecognizable by slashing rain and stark shadows. A face, I realized with growing horror, that might well have been watching Dan and me for minutes, or hours.
Or, perhaps it had been only my overactive imagination at work…
Or…Tom Barnwell had returned!
The realization that the prowler at the window must have been Tom—who had already broken into my house twice in the same week—back for one more shot at getting me into bed, filled me with a stomach-churning sense of disgust, tempered only by my relief that it was only him and not some deranged serial killer.
Because Tom Barnwell, low and despicable though he might be, was also a devout coward. And, having been spotted by me at the window, he would by now be high-tailing it back to whatever bar he had come from.
My disgust quickly turning to outrage, I paused halfway up the stairs, tempted to retrace my steps and tell Dan what I had just seen. Then common sense took over and I continued on up to the bathroom. Because I knew that if I said anything to Dan, the sweet memory of our extraordinary lovemaking that night would be forever soiled. And, too, I feared the consequences of my big, muscular ex-marine’s anger, should he insist on going after the pathetic, slightly flabby Peeping Tom, as I knew he surely would. Dan, I was genuinely afraid, might actually kill the bastard.
So I went into the bathroom and closed the door, silently vowing to say nothing about the incident to Dan, but grimly determined to deal with Tom Barnwell later, in my own special way.
Chapter 31
With plots of suitable revenge percolating through my mind—Miss Practical suggested calling town constable Harvey Peabody and swearing out a complaint against Tom Barnwell, while Miss Romantic was holding out for challenging him to a duel—my appetite slowly returned. And I decided before leaving the bathroom that I was not going to let the alcoholic creep’s pathetic antics ruin my life, or even my night.
In the candlelit parlor Dan and I sat on the hearth and grilled thick New York steaks over the open flames. We had them with green salads garnished with slices of fresh California avocado, dressed with a delicious raspberry vinaigrette—Dan’s own secret concoction—and washed down with a good California Pinot Noir.
We were just finishing dinner and debating whether it was really possible, as I steadfastly claimed, to bake apples for dessert in the hot fireplace coals when a high-pitched electronic sound shrilled over the noise of the worsening storm outside.
“The hospital!” The words exploded from Dan’s and my lips simultaneously and we leaped to our feet, searching frantically among the dancing shadows for the portable phone he’d brought in from the kitchen. The thing screeched again and Dan located it on an end table beside the chair in which he’d been sitting earlier.
“Hello?” he asked, pressing the phone to his ear.
I was standing anxiously beside him now, watching his face for some indication of what was being said. After a moment, Dan winked at me, repeating Alice Cahill’s words for my benefit. “Damon’s awake? That’s fantastic!” Then he nodded and grinned. “Yes, she’s right here!”
Dan handed the phone to me and I put it to my ear, only to be assaulted with a crescendo of electronic noise. The static subsided a bit and I recognized the faint voice on the other end of the connection as that of Dr. Alice Cahill, but her words were being broken up by the interference.
“…Damon…his first…you…so…thought…right away and get…”
“Alice,” I shouted, “you’re breaking up too badly. Let me call you back.”
“Damon says…” Alice yelled back, her voice fading away in a fresh burst of static.
“Tell Damon I love him,” I hollered. “I’ll try to get a better line and call you right back.”
Frustrated, I broke the connection and looked at Dan. “Call the long-distance operator,” he suggested. “Maybe they can get through.”
I dialed long distance. The phone continued to crackle and sputter, though I could faintly hear it ringing on the other end. “What did Alice say?” I asked Dan while I waited for an operator to answer.
“All I really got,” he said, “was that Damon is out of the coma again and his vital signs are good.”
“Thank God!” I breathed, impatiently pressing my ear closer to the phone. “Come on, dammit!” Far away, a recorded voice finally answered the ringing and informed me that all circuits were temporarily out, due to weather conditions.
“Damn!” I switched off the useless portable phone and dropped it to my side. “What are we supposed to do now?”
“I say we go back up to Boston immediately,” Dan replied without hesitation. “It’s what we were planning to do, anyway.”
Surprised by his answer I let my eyes dart to a window lashed by the driving rain. “Tonight?” I asked.
“The full force of the storm isn’t due to hit us until mid-morning tomorrow,” he said. “So we might actually have a better chance at getting out of here tonight than we will after daylight.” Dan took me into his arms and held me tight. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you to Damon.” He smiled. “I think that for both your sakes, you two need to see one another as soon as possible.”
I reached up and kissed him hard, then swiped a tear from the corner of my eye and cleared my throat. “Dan Freedman, has anybody ever told you that you are one hell of a great guy?” I asked.
Dan blushed furiously for the first time since we had met. “Well, I have been told I make a pretty mean salad dressing,” he said, shyly casting his eyes down at the floor.
Fifteen minutes later, Dan went outside to the Mercedes and drove away.
Following a brief discussion over the coffee we had not yet gotten around to drinking after dinner, we had come up with a rough plan to expedite our late-night trip to Boston: Dan would go by his place to pick up an overnight bag, then he’d drive out to an all-night truck stop near the interstate to gas up and inquire about road conditions.
Meanwhile, I was to get my own things packed and be ready to go when he returned in about half an hour.
I was upstairs in my room, throwing makeup, underwear and a few similar necessities into an overnight case, when the old-fashioned black telephone on my nightstand rang. Thinking it must be Dan calling with some bit of last-minute information about the trip, I lifted the heavy receiver and said hello.
Free of much of the airborne static that had plagued the portable phone downstairs, the new long-distance connection from Boston came through with surprising clarity on the antique telephone wired into my bedroom wall. So much, I thought, for space-age technology.
“Sue, thank God I got through to you,” said a faint but familiar voice.
“Damon, is that really you?” I broke into a delighted grin. “My God, you sound wonderful.” Look, I’m throwing some things into a suitcase right now and driving up there tonight.”
“Sue, listen very carefully…” The pitch of Damon’s voice was strangely high, and I was suddenly fearful that all might not be well with him after all.
“Are you okay?” I cautiously queried.
“For God’s sake, just shut up and listen to me, please,” he snapped, confirming for me that something was definitely wrong.
“Is Dr. Cahill there with you?” I interrupted before he could say more.
Damon’s voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “Don’t talk to me about that bitch,” he fumed. “I escaped in a wheelchair, broken legs and all, while she wasn’t looking. But by this time I have no doubt the good doctor is probably organizing a search party.”
There was a brief silence on the line, followed by the sound of labored breathing. “I don’t think it’ll take them more than a few minutes to find me,” Damon said weakly, “so listen carefully…”
“Damon, where are you?” I demanded.
“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice suddenly thick with pain. “In an office somewhere, the maternity department, I think.” Damon uttered an abbreviated version of his trademark idiotic giggle. “I only know that because I can hear the newborns squalling like banshees in the next room.”
“Are you out of your mind?” I screamed at him. “You have been seriously injured, Damon. You are going to hurt yourself. Now get back to your room this second!”
He didn’t answer and again I heard only the rasp of his ragged breathing over the occasional burst of electronic noise on the line.
“Damon? Are you there?”
“I’m still here,” he said wearily. “And I am most assuredly not crazy, Sue. As I have been trying to explain to these hospital Nazis for hours, I saw Bobby…But every time I open my mouth to tell someone about it, the bastards jab another needle into my ass. I had to call you…”
Forcing a note of calm into my words that I was not really feeling, I said, “Okay, take it easy. I believe you, Damon. You saw Bobby in the Light and he—”
“No!” Damon screeched. “I did not see Bobby in any goddamn Light! That’s what I have been trying to tell these medical morons here. Christ! Why won’t any of you just listen?”
He paused for breath and his voice dropped an octave. “I saw Bobby in Manhattan, Sue. And he was very much alive!”
“What?” I stared at the receiver.
“The day after the break-in,” Damon wheezed, “I went back to your apartment late that afternoon to finish cleaning up. Bobby was just coming out of your building, wearing that crappy old leather flight jacket of his.”
Damon wheezed again and gasped for breath. “The man is not dead, Sue,” he insisted. “In fact, I think he’s probably the one who broke into your place.”
I was shaking my head slowly from side to side in disbelief. “That’s not possible,” I shrieked, my voice cracking with emotion. “You and Bobby never got along, Damon. We think that you only had a bad dream about him that you confused with—”
“Dream, my shiny black butt!” Damon exploded with maniacal fury. “I saw that bastard Bobby Hayward coming out of your apartment building late Monday afternoon. So don’t tell me I was dreaming, dammit!”
“Oh, God!” During the last part of Damon’s angry outburst I had dropped onto the bed in shock. Now I was just sitting there, paralyzed.
Because suddenly nothing made any sense. If Bobby was really alive and had been rescued, why hadn’t he called me right away? And why hadn’t his company called me, or the FAA?
“Sue?” The pain was back in Damon’s voice.
“Yes?” I replied dully, after a long pause.
“I think Bobby saw me, too,” Damon whispered, slowly emphasizing each word
as if it might be his last. “I was sure he started to follow me,” he continued. “I jumped into a cab and lost him…Then I tried to call your cell phone, but I couldn’t get through. So I went straight out to the airport and got onto that damn commuter flight to Hell, to warn you—”
“Warn me!” I ended the astonished exclamation with a short, hysterical laugh. “Warn me of what?”
Damon’s voice was rapidly fading now, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “Sue, I thought about it the whole time I was waiting to catch my plane,” he whispered. “Those times when you thought you saw Bobby during the past few weeks, when you were sure you must be going crazy…”
I tried to concentrate on Damon’s implausible theory but my head was beginning to spin. If Bobby had been alive all this time, then I…I had betrayed his love, with Dan.
“I-I’ve been unfaithful to him,” I stammered. “I didn’t have any idea…”
Damon swept aside my feeble confession with another angry outburst. “Unfaithful, you? No, Sue, don’t you understand what I’m saying?” he croaked in his odd Southern accent.
“All the time you were grieving for him, Bobby was alive. He came back to New York and started watching you, stalking you. You didn’t think you saw him. You did. You didn’t do anything wrong, Sue. That lying bastard betrayed you.”
“But why?” I wailed, unable to come to terms with what he was saying. “I loved Bobby and he loved me. Why would he do a thing like that to me, Damon? Why?”
Before he could answer me, I heard the sounds of other voices in the background. Then something fell over with a loud clatter and Damon was cursing. His outraged screams faded away as someone else picked up the phone.
“Susan?” I recognized Alice Cahill’s firm, no-nonsense tone on the line. “Susan, are you there?”
“Wh-What happened?” I stammered. “Is Damon all right?”
The doctor let out a long, patient sigh. “Yes,” she said. “At least he doesn’t appear to have done any major damage to himself, thank God. Hang on for just a second…” I heard Alice issuing stern orders to someone, then she came back on the line. “At this moment,” she said, “two very large, very gentle orderlies are taking your Mr. St. Claire back to his bed, like a very naughty child.”
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