Pushed to the Limit

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “Kenneth was probably one of the most talented men I’ve ever met,” Benno told her, his voice drifting closer. “He designed this house.”

  “I didn’t know that. I mean, I knew he was an architect, but he didn’t tell me about the house. I guess he would have if he’d...”

  Sydney chose not to complete the statement.

  She removed the quart of milk from the refrigerator and turned toward the stove. A part of her still thought of Kenneth as being alive and waiting for her to find him. That same part viewed the past days as a bad dream from which she was still trying to awaken.

  Suddenly feeling Benno’s presence on the other side of the island, she looked up to find him staring at her hand – and her naked ring finger? – as she poured milk into the pot. She didn’t feel obligated to explain her actions in sacrificing the love token to the sea.

  “I’m not so interested in the professional as I am in the private man,” she explained as she turned on the burner. “The friend. The brother.”

  Expression thoughtful, Benno took a swig of the amber liquid in his glass. “Your late husband was as trustworthy and loyal a friend as a man could ask for. And he was certainly a better brother than Martha deserved.”

  Startled by the unexpected criticism, Sydney asked, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Martha was a spoiled kid, a highly spoiled teenager and an even more spoiled young woman. She always got what she wanted... one way or another.”

  “I thought you liked her.”

  “I never said that.” Leaning on the counter, he rolled the glass between his hands and stared down into the liquid. “I was merely surprised that Martha didn’t show for the wedding. She took advantage of outward appearances when it came to pleasing or placating Kenneth since he held her purse strings.”

  Indignant at his conclusion, Sydney snapped, “Maybe she did so because she loved him.”

  Benno merely raised his thick dark brows and pointed to her milk. “You’re about to boil over.”

  She took the opportunity to let the conversation drop. She didn’t want to hear unflattering things about Kenneth.

  After pouring the milk into a glass, she set the pot in the sink. “I think I’ll go up to bed.”

  “I’m ready to sack out myself,” Benno said, tipping his own glass toward her in salute.

  Sydney moved around the island and through the living area toward the stairs opposite the front door. He followed only as far as the couch. She sipped at her milk as she took the first several steps, then paused halfway up to the balcony that overlooked the open two-story living room.

  “Benno...”

  Standing over the couch where he unfolded a sheet, he paused to look up at her. “What?”

  Somehow, his doing such a homey task seemed incongruous with the image she had of him. He seemed rugged and mysterious and a little dangerous. Funny how he also made her feel so safe.

  “Thanks.”

  He stared at her, his expression serious, his eyes piercing. “Yell if you need me.”

  “Sure.” She tried to smile but failed.

  Sydney finished climbing the stairs to her room where she set the half-empty glass on the gilt-edged white night stand. Kenneth had laughed at her odd nighttime habit, but she’d found drinking warm milk helped her relax when she was stressed.

  The milk was doing its job even as she changed into her cotton nightgown. Her bones were melting, her mind drifting. Slipping through its lace curtains into the bed, she pulled up the satin quilt. One last sip of milk. She adjusted the table lamp so only a night light within the frosted glass body glowed.

  Sydney realized she wouldn’t feel so relaxed if Benno weren’t downstairs. His dark visage was the last thing she remembered before her conscious mind gave way to the mysteries of the night...

  SYDNEY...

  Sometime later she stirred, refusing to surface from the warm cocoon of sleep that enveloped her, yet drawn by the voice in her head. She turned restlessly, her fingers clenching and unclenching the quilt.

  So sleepy...why was Kenneth trying to wake her?

  Sydney my love...

  The eerie sound whispered through her. She moaned in protest, tried to drive away that which disturbed her. Flipping to her other side, she got tangled in the covers but didn’t have the will to fight them. Dressed in his yellow shirt, Kenneth stood waiting for her.

  Another dream. How many more?

  Sydney, my love, I’m waiting. Come to me.

  Half-awake now, she felt the need to stop this fantasizing which held only anguish. Her eyes flew open to a darkened room and she tried to get her bearings. She felt hazy and disoriented. Could barely focus. Even so, she pushed herself up to her elbows and tried.

  Her jaw fell slack at the apparition before her.

  Arms extended in welcome, a figure was silhouetted in the doorway leading out to the deck. A man wearing a yellow shirt.

  “Kenneth.”

  The room began whirling. She closed her eyes, rubbed them and looked again. Nothing. Gone. He wasn’t really there. Another dream. Or an illusion.

  Seconds later she realized the room shouldn’t be pitch black.

  Her pulse quickened.

  Sydney.

  From beyond the open double doors came a whisper which had to be real.

  “Kenneth?”

  A breeze swept through the room in answer. And one of the outside storm shutters that surrounded every window in the house banged against its frame, startling her further. The doors to the deck were open. She hadn’t touched them before going to bed, had she? Trying to remember as she sat up, Sydney felt the room float around her. While her head was light, her hand was equally heavy when she fumbled for the switch to the night light.

  Something metal skittered across the night stand surface. Her hand shot after the object and, in the process, nicked the glass, making it crash to the floor.

  “Damn.”

  Sydney found the switch. The soft light caught the object that lay near the edge of the night stand.

  A ring.

  Heart pounding, she retrieved it. Nugget-textured outside, smooth inside. Her ring. Impossible. Hers was at the bottom of the ocean. She ran a fingertip inside the circle and felt a faint etching. Turning it to the light, she fought to read. Her eyes wouldn’t focus properly. She squeezed her lids shut, then tried again.

  Kenneth loves Sydney

  “Oh, my God. Kenneth!” she cried.

  She scrambled out of bed, but her knees wouldn’t hold her.

  Sydney...

  The voice came from beyond the porch, from the fog-shrouded grounds. She had to get there, had to get to Kenneth. Why wouldn’t her legs cooperate? The room seemed to be heaving. Fiercely, she clutched the ring and forced her legs to move toward the open doors. She heard a banging noise somewhere – a loose shutter again? – but she could no more focus her mind on the sound than on anything else.

  “Kenneth, where are you?” she called, bursting out onto the deck in confusion.

  “Sydney?” Both voice and noise sounded closer.

  She forced her feet to move, caught a glimpse of someone below in the fog. A shadowy figure...

  “Sydney.”

  Behind her, the voice made her whirl. Her legs refused to hold fast and she flew back hard against the rail whose wood shrieked from the jarring weight. The ring went flying... followed by a horrified Sydney.

  CHAPTER THREE

  HANDS OF STEEL hooked onto Sydney’s hips, jerking her to a stop. Her upper body free-floated, still out of control. Her stomach did somersaults, and her heart threatened to burst through the wall of her chest as she dangled, torso arched and upside down. The night whirled around her head while wood bit into her buttocks and a human vise trapped her legs. She was precariously balanced on the balcony’s rail and could still fall. She’d fallen in her dreams.

  Blood rushed to her head. Mouth dry, she croaked, “Help.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do, Sydney
. Come on, lift your arms and grab hold of mine.”

  Concentrating, she forced herself to respond to the deep voice. Hands slid to her waist and steadied her. She caught hold of thick, powerfully muscled wrists.

  “That’s it,” the voice urged. “Now hang on. Steady.”

  Her body was shifted forward to safety. The vise relaxed and freed her. Her feet touched the deck. But the face that gradually came into focus by the soft glow of room light was rough-hewn and beard-stubbled. Confused, she frowned.

  “Benno?”

  “I’m here.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and the fog danced in slow motion. “Did you see him? Kenneth?”

  He gave her a sharp shake that got her full attention. “Not Kenneth, Sydney, Benno.”

  “I know who you are. I mean out there,” she said, slanting her head. The landscape shifted and it took a monumental effort to make her world stop moving. No matter how hard Sydney tried, she could see nothing beyond the foggy blanket still rising from the cliffs that overlooked the ocean. “I heard Kenneth call me.”

  “Sydney, listen.” Firm fingers under her chin brought her face-to-face with the man who had just saved her life. “I was calling you. Not Kenneth. There was a crash and then I heard you cry out. You must have been dreaming.”

  Dreaming? Had she been? Sydney had thought so, but now she wasn’t certain.

  “I found my wedding ring,” she ground out. Even talking was an effort. “I threw it into the ocean at the memorial service so it would be with Kenneth forever. When I woke up a little while ago, the ring was on the night stand.” Not liking the way Benno was frowning at her, she insisted, “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t imagine it.” At least she didn’t think so.

  “So where is this ring?”

  She looked down at her empty hand. “I-I dropped it down there somewhere.” Hadn’t she?

  Sydney was so dizzy she could hardly stand upright. And her mouth was dry, like she had a hangover. But she’d only had that splash of Ameiuridae in her tea and that had been a good while ago. Her eyes demanded to close, her brain to shut out the all-consuming feeling of helplessness. This was not her, not Sydney Raferty, not the strong self-assured woman she knew herself to be. She’d been losing herself little-by-little over the past months and the feeling was accelerating.

  What in the world was happening to her?

  That she’d just been saved from a possibly fatal fall broke down the last of Sydney’s defenses. Forgetting any vestige of reserve, she totally lost control and began to sob.

  “You’re going to be all right,” Benno assured her, and when she shook her head in protest, he pulled her into his arms. “Shush, I’m here and you’re safe now.”

  Safe.

  She clung to his shirtfront as his strong arms wrapped around her. Tears continued to pour from her eyes and drench him. How could she be safe from her own mind when it kept playing tricks on her? She must have dreamed everything.

  But the ring... the ring had been so real.

  Benno’s hand stroking her head relaxed her and, thankful she wasn’t alone, Sydney melted into him, allowed him to comfort her. If it weren’t for Benno, she might have fallen to her death. She owed him her life, Sydney thought. But how would she ever repay the kindness of this stranger?

  When her sobs quieted to mere sniffles, he said, “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

  No protest passed her lips, but when she tried to move, she stumbled. Before she knew what was happening, Benno lifted her into his arms and carried her inside. His heart beat strongly through the thickly muscled wall of his chest. When he set her down and moved away, she felt bereft. But he didn’t immediately leave her side. He tucked the covers around her.

  She stayed his hand before he could draw away. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “You already have. Try to get some rest now.”

  Still she didn’t let go. Realizing that she needed some kind of reassurance, Benno sat at the edge of the bed and waited.

  “Do you think I’m crazy?” she whispered.

  “I think you’re exhausted and grief-stricken.”

  “And confused,” she added softly. “I can’t figure out what’s going on, so how can I expect you to understand? Everything seems so out-of-synch, so fuzzy.”

  He wondered if she hadn’t taken something – a tranquilizer or a sleeping pill – to relax her, to allow her much-needed sleep. That would account for her confusion and her clumsiness. Some people had negative reactions to prescription drugs.

  “Everything will be a little less frightening in the morning,” he promised with an encouraging grin.

  A return smile transformed her ordinary face into something of quiet beauty. “Why do I believe you?”

  “Because you need to. Now go back to sleep.”

  Trustingly, she allowed her drooping eyes to close. She was drifting off, but still she clutched his hand as if hanging onto a lifeline. He didn’t have the heart to pull away from her. A wave of tenderness washed through him as he studied the vulnerable woman whose long lashes separated into wet spikes.

  A puddle created by her tears lay in the hollow between lid and cheek. Using his thumb, he wiped the moisture away. She stirred, but her breathing deepened as if his touch had relaxed her further into sleep. She seemed so emotionally fragile, but Benno guessed that wasn’t unusual under the circumstances.

  No, he didn’t think she was crazy, merely stressed out and in need of a friend. When her grip on him loosened, he gently pulled his hand free, snatched the extra pillow and made himself an impromptu bed on the floor. If she were to awaken while caught up in another dream, he would be there for her.

  Benno knew what it was like to be alone and afraid. Not so much time had passed since he’d left town in disgrace that he couldn’t remember as if it were yesterday. Perhaps the circumstances surrounding that twenty-year old tragedy made him feel responsible for Kenneth Lord’s widow.

  Then, again, maybe the link had nothing to do with his friend but with Sydney herself...

  As Benno settled down for the night, he tossed the circumstances of Kenneth’s demise over in his mind. Death by drowning. Coincidence? How could he ever be sure? One thing was certain. He’d be smart to start looking over his own shoulder.

  SYDNEY AWOKE to the brilliance of morning and the sharp smells of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon.

  But who...?

  Benno. Hazily, she remembered the man tucking the covers under her chin and then... nothing.

  She gazed over the side of the bed at the floor next to the night stand. The broken glass was gone as was the spilled milk. Benno must have cleaned up quietly so as not to awaken her.

  Her empty stomach prompted her to dress in record time. Running a brush through her short hair, she realized her head was achy, her mouth dry. The hangover feeling stayed with her as she quietly descended to find an incongruous sight in the kitchen.

  “Morning,” he said without turning around. “I was about to wake you. Sleep well?”

  “No more bad dreams, if that’s what you mean.” Though she was still feeling hazy and moving in slow motion.

  In full daylight, her dark knight seemed even more masculine and wild-looking than she’d remembered. His chin scar was more vivid in his beard-stubbled face, his tied back hair more slick, his rugged features more formidable. But how dangerous could a man with a frying pan in one hand, spatula in the other, be?

  Smothering a grin in the guise of a yawn, she approached and asked, “What can I do to help?”

  “Set the table out there.” He crooked his dark head toward the deck off the kitchen.

  Plates, cups and silverware were already stacked on the counter. Gathering the items to her, she used her hip to pop open the screen door. Benno was close behind with a coffee pot and platter of bacon, eggs and toast.

  Once she got a few bites of food in her stomach, Sydney felt physically better though she couldn’t say the same for her he
art. Her head cleared and she was able to appreciate the beauty of the crisp morning. The sun shone strongly, brightening the landscaped grounds for the first time since she’d arrived in Stone Beach. As always, she could hear the ocean stir in the distance and was aware of its distinctive salt scent.

  Benno, however, wasn’t focusing on their surroundings. His light brown eyes were stuck on her.

  “What are you staring at?” she asked, fascinated by the way the diamond stud in his ear winked when he cocked his head.

  “You. You look like a different person this morning.”

  “Must be the good night’s sleep you made sure I got,” she stated, putting a fork full of eggs in her mouth.

  “Don’t go all gooey on me again, okay?”

  Gooey obviously made the man uncomfortable. “All right. Be modest. You already know how I feel.”

  His brow furrowed as he asked, “This is probably none of my business, but I was wondering what you were on last night.”

  Sydney washed the food down with a mouthful of coffee. “What do you mean – on?”

  “I wondered what you took to fall asleep.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Milk, remember?” At his disbelieving expression she added, “A great tonic for stress.”

  Benno threw his fork down to his plate. “Come on, Sydney, you had more than milk in your system. Admit it.”

  “Right. Ameiuridae. You’re the one who poured the stuff in my mug,” she said, a little irritated by the third degree.

  “Neither that small shot I gave you nor any number of glasses of warm milk would make you disoriented. And you were out of it when I caught up to you, Sydney, badly so.”

  “I wake up and I think I hear and see my dead husband – of course I was confused.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything, and I’m not trying to judge you, so don’t get your back up,” Benno said calmly. “It’s just that doctors are sometimes too generous helping out grieving patients with sedatives.”

  “No doctor gave me anything of the kind,” she snapped, even as she once more wondered why she should have felt hung over.

  Sydney realized he still wasn’t convinced. Getting more aggravated by the moment, she was about to tell him she didn’t even know a doctor in the area when she heard a vehicle approach.