I look both ways up the silent road, trying to catch my bearings in the dark. It’s hard to tell where exactly I hid it. It was so heavy I could barely push it off the road. A Harley Davidson Roadster is not a lightweight motorcycle and my lack of strength at the time meant I had to let it fall into the bushes and resort to covering it up with branches and leaves. That foliage was still there when I checked several weeks ago and I’m convinced more will have grown around it since.
I remember after I covered it up that first day, I walked a hundred yards before I followed the Corrigan fence down the hill instead of carrying on the road to town. So, I continue to walk away from town along the furthest side of the road, keeping to the asphalt so I don’t sprain my ankle on the uneven surface of the grass shoulder. As my eyes grow accustomed to the dark, I peer into the hedges and trees where I spot yellow police tape flapping from a tree.
My heart launches into my mouth.
I jog over to the tape.
Frantically, I push my hands into my hair and turn on the spot, my mind in a frenzy. The motorcycle is definitely gone, there are tire tracks on the shoulder and the foliage I placed over it is stacked on either side of where it once was.
Shit. My heart pounds relentlessly.
I leap over the drainage ditch and check exactly where it lay. I dare shine the flashlight from my phone onto the ground. There’s a dark patch on the grass. I stick my finger to it and smell the distinct odor of engine oil. Shit. No doubt then. This is definitely where it was and it isn’t here now.
For a moment I slump onto my backside, tossing around what’s likely happened to it and what the consequences are. If it wasn’t for the police tape, I would have thought it stolen, in which case I might have a chance. But if it involves the police, then it will become more complicated. There will be an investigation. Questions.
There’s nothing I can do to change the outcome, but the worry about the consequence will kill me. Slowly. Eat up any self-confidence I have built and dump me back at square one.
With heavy foreboding steps, I walk through the orchard back to the ranch. I slink into bed and Colt pulls me in close, burying his mouth into my hair.
“You’re cold,” he murmurs, hugging me in tighter. “Where have you been?”
I can’t tell him, but I should. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Hmm,” he buzzes into my ear. “I know what will help with that.” He burrows his nose into my ear, teasing my earlobe with his teeth. He pushes his hand across my breasts, the bumps of his calloused palm rubbing over my nipples. He twists and slides his leg over mine, his erection hard against my hip. Sexual feelings nudge aside my thoughts and my primal urges take over. My body doesn’t give a shit about the danger I’m in when he nibbles at my earlobe, then slides a hot, wet tongue down my jaw. Then, with quiet precision, he rolls onto me, taking the weight on his elbows and nudges his erection at my entrance.
I feel sad. Empty. Like this will be our last time together and I need this memory, so I open my thighs and let him sink into me. It’s beautiful and so is he, the most beautiful thing to have ever happened to me. And like all beautiful things, I don’t deserve him.
He strokes in and out. Sultry, languid strokes like he wants this to go on forever, as if he knows I’m about to leave. Nerves tingle. His low moans relax but don’t comfort me. It’s like I can never be comforted again, and I retreat into my safe zone. My cage. The dark place I created to protect myself from feelings and emotions. Good or bad. Colt or otherwise.
This may be the last time we make love. With everything I’ve got, I need to cherish this memory.
I shift up and down the sheet with him, my fingers splayed across his back.
My forehead rests on his.
His lips brush against mine, the rippled surface of them feathering my sensitive skin.
We play an instrument together. In tune. Perfect tone and harmony. And with a pace that allows me to feel every inch of him push in and out. Just like I’m lying on a warm beach, the ocean lapping up and over my legs and the sun on my face.
Ecstasy builds, washing over me in a warm, fuzzy wave.
He jerks inside me and I open my eyes wide, taking in his parting lips and every twitch of his facial muscles.
His forehead rests down on mine.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
I stop breathing.
How can he say that now?
How can I leave him now?
He loves me and there’s nothing I can do but stab him repeatedly with Cupid’s lead-tipped arrow.
I die right here and now on this bed, underneath the most amazing human being to have ever come into my life.
A tear trickles from the corner of my eye, tickling its way down my cheek to my neck.
And with a room full of shadows, I whisper goodbye on his silky, glowing chest.
Eighteen
Lacey
It shouldn’t seem as shocking as it does.
The white car with blue stripes and a block of warning lights on the roof. I peak through the side of the drapes at him standing there. Police Officer Carson Perrins. I know him because everyone in Gunner Ridge knows him. Although I’ve kept my distance. Skulked into the shadows whenever he’s been near. Excused myself when he’s come to the day center, the library, Alma’s Kitchen. But this is the first time I’ve known him come to the ranch.
“What are you nosing at, lovey?” Mrs. Corrigan looks up from her jigsaw, a piece hovering in her hand.
“Nothing exciting,” I lie.
I straighten the drape as if everything can go back the way it was. When I had no history, but plenty of future.
“I’m popping to my room for something. Are you okay on your own for a little while?”
“Of course.” She shoos me away with her hand.
I hurry to my room and stuff my meager belongings into my backpack. I should have done this yesterday, but I stewed on my options, hoping beyond all hope that nothing would come of the motorcycle being found. All because I’m sure I will find nowhere as good as this again. This is a once in a lifetime gift and Colt… well Colt is a whole other gift. But as I already know, I don’t deserve gifts in this life, and the motorcycle being found will have consequences for me.
As I glance at the scene below from my bedroom window, Colt strides over with Blue to the police car. I catch a breath as Colt stands, legs wide and his arms crossed defensively across his chest, while he talks to the police chief. Colt takes a step back and Perrins pushes back his hat and scratches at his head.
There’s no mistaking it. They must be talking about me. And that damn motorcycle. My chest constricts.
“Lacey?”
I look toward the hallway, there are quick footsteps on the stairway and Amber calls out to me.
I quickly go to the door and feign a smile. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I’m going out and wanted to make sure you had everything covered with Mom,” She pants out.
“She’s much better today. The fever has subsided and she’s dressed.”
I glance at my room, leave the backpack and scurry down the stairs to see if I can get close enough to hear what Police Officer Perrins and the Corrigan brothers are saying before I run away for no reason.
After the other night when Colt said he loved me, my head has been a mess. I thought he only wanted a casual fling and was incapable of loving again. His admission cut into my logic and halted my ability to leave when I should have.
Standing on the tips of my toes, I peer through the small slits of glass in the front door. Amber saunters across the yard to the group of men, and while they’re distracted by their group conversation, I rush through the kitchen and out the back door, crouching low near the porch.
They might be discussing the day center, or a lost calf, or something else that has nothing to do with what I’ve done.
I catch the occasional word, but no context. Then Amber skips off to her car and I can’t hear anything else when she turn
s over the meaty Mustang engine, and then a dust cloud billows up as she spins the tires to gain traction on the loose surface of the courtyard and my view is blocked too.
The dust settles, and the three men split up. Colt heads toward the house, Perrins climbs in his car, and Blue goes to the ranch office.
Having learned nothing, and with my chest tight, I sneak back around the house and into the kitchen, quickly pulling out bread and cheese to make lunch.
When Colt enters the room, he smiles at me while I prepare a sandwich as if there’s nothing to be concerned with. He comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder. He’s all brawn, and I relax into the temporary safety of his arms.
“Any spare?”
I plaster on a smile and turn my head to his, the end of his nose rubs up and down the sensitive skin on my cheek.
“Sure. Do you want pickle with it?”
He pulls back. “No. That’d ruin a perfectly good sandwich.”
I spin around in his arms and he brushes his lips onto mine. It feels lovely, but all I can think of the cop and the likely reason for his visit.
“What was going on out front?” I ask, with as casual a tone as I can muster.
Colt reaches over and pinches a slice of cheese. I cut him a look, and he laughs around his mouthful, shrugging in answer to my question. I’d like to breathe a little more normally at his cool reaction, but that’d be wrong.
“Some motorcycle found just beyond the orchard on Hilltop Road. Perrins wondered if we knew anything about it.”
“Oh.” I concentrate on spreading mayonnaise onto the bread while my pulse clatters in my ears.
“Probably stolen by some teenagers in town.”
“Hmm.” My voice is strangled.
“Odd thing is, it’s registered in Sacramento.”
The blood whooshes in my ear and I feel faint. Battling through the feeling, I finish making the sandwich and slice it in half. “There.” I push a plate over to him. “So, what is the police officer doing about it?”
“He’s contacted the owner. He’s gonna pick it up soon. Think Perrins just wanted some info to give him when he gets here. Make it seem like he’s at least tried to find the thief.”
Sirens scream in my head, and I grip the counter edge as my legs buckle beneath me. “So, what was he expecting to learn about it here?” I push the words out with as much control as I can hang on to.
“He wondered if we’d seen or heard anything. Apparently it’s been missing for a while.”
Please don’t say it. I repeat over and over. Don’t say a date and realize it was when I arrived. I know this isn’t going to all vanish into thin air but I’m not ready to have that conversation now.
“It’s a Harley, apparently. Carry a nice price tag, those hogs. Surprised whoever stole it didn’t sell off the parts, or customize it, or something.”
What a dumb ass I am. Why the hell did I just leave it there? Did I think it would decompose or something? I could have at least unscrewed the plate. Scratched over any ID marks. But no, I left it at the side of the road, right near this ranch, and stayed put. Could I get any more stupid? I certainly wasn’t thinking straight in those first few days.
“So, why was the police officer here if he think it is something to do with teenagers in town?”
He swallows some of his sandwich before answering. “It wasn’t him that thought that, just me. Perrins just wondered if we’d seen or heard anything.” His gaze lingers on me and at first, I think he’s cottoned on to my strange reaction and him repeating his answer about why the police officer was here, but then I see the usual glint of lust as his eyes fall to my lips.
I’m not turned on by it this time. I can’t be, I’m so anxious about what’s likely to happen now.
I rub at my lips, and the glint disappears from his eyes.
“You not eating yours?” He chews on the last mouthful of his sandwich.
“Yeah.” I pick at it and Colt cocks his head onto one side.
“What’s up?”
Quickly, I come up with an excuse. “Just thinking about your Mom and the doctor’s visit. I know this sounds crazy, but have they tested for Lyme disease?”
This isn’t me being entirely deceptive, it’s something I’ve thought about repeatedly since I’ve cared for her. And the recent research I’ve carried out has been bugging me for a while now. But I’ll admit, it does take the heat away from me.
“Lyme disease,” he repeats, his eyes narrowing.
“Yeah, the fevers she suffers from are not characteristic of dementia. And the tiredness. I thought it was the medication she takes, but I’m not sure.”
“Hmm.” He taps the countertop with his thumb. “What do you think we should do about it?”
“Ask the doctor to test for it?”
He nods, digesting what I’ve just said. “Yeah, I’ll get on it.” He picks his phone from his pocket and calls through to the doctor’s office.
“Thank you, Lacey.” He says, while he waits for the doctor to answer. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.” His voice loaded with sincerity.
Oh shit. I close my eyes as he turns and talks into his phone.
Nineteen
Lacey
The palpitations in my chest have not stopped since yesterday and my backpack remains packed. But nothing has escalated yet and a rational conclusion tells me it likely won’t, not with the police anyway. With the motorcycle being recovered and undamaged as far as I know, it’s not worth the police manpower to pursue it. But what I can’t get out of my mind is that the owner knows it is here and that means one thing for sure—he will be on his way to claim it. And me. He won’t be put off by the police officer’s excuse of a cold trail. He will stop at nothing to find me.
I flit around Mrs. Corrigan’s apartment.
“Will you sit down, lovey. You’re make me dizzy with all this pacing around.”
I stop in my tracks. “Sorry. What would you like to do?”
“Read that book again.”
She pats her linked hands on her thighs in anticipation.
“Okay.” I sit opposite her and open the book, sliding the bookmark out of the page and lodging it in the back cover. I’m about to disappoint everyone around here, so the very least I can do is finish this book for her.
I clear my throat and push through the first nervously spoken words. “Jack strode into the middle of the bandstand, flicking his coat-tails as he settled on the piano stool. His hands found the keys, and he lowered his head in devout concentration. The tinkling of the keys increased with speed and volume as he settled into the rhythm of the tune.”
Mrs. Corrigan coughs.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, although I’m struggling to keep up with you today. Would you mind slowing down a little?”
I relax my shoulders. “Sorry, I… I was somewhere else right then.” I repeat the last paragraph, slowly and with feeling. “Coraline’s chest rose higher than usual in her tight corset and she leaned forward so as not to miss a note.” I feel myself tense, just like Coraline. “Jacks voice sounded out as clear as a siren through a fog. ‘Why am I drawn to you? Sucked in a vortex until we are entwined like a caduceus. Is this what love does to people like us? Or simply what I want to believe?’ Coraline was desperate for Jack to look up from the keys at her, but the harder she yearned for him to do so, the more intent he was on his playing. Then in a final act of insular focus, he closed his eyes and continued singing as if there was no one else in the hall. ‘It’s hard to tell when we’re the last on the shelf. Maybe you waited for me. Or me for you. No-one will surely blame me for feeling this way. You once said we were one and the same. Is that what they mean when they say love is all-consuming? That you cease to exist. Or is that me? Two becomes one. One becomes naught.’ Coraline’s eyes stung with hot tears. This wasn’t the serenade she expected. She glanced around at the other women in the audience, who swished their hand-held fans t
o cover up their obvious desire. For him. Her Jack. Coraline couldn’t sit and watch for a moment longer. She picked up the hems of her skirts and rushed out of the hall.”
My already heavy heart is about to break with this story. I glance at Mrs. Corrigan; she has dozed off, but I can’t stop reading. I need to know what happens.
“Jack turned to Coraline, intent on singing the last verse while he looked into her eyes. But she’d disappeared. He rose sharply, shunting the piano and making the keyboard cover fall with an echoing slam. The audience gasped and turned to follow his gaze to the door, just catching Coraline disappear into the foyer. Jack ran after her, leaping from the stage as he shouted her name.”
With trepidation, I turn the page, my eyes zeroing in on the very last line.
What? I’m floored. How can it end so quickly? What does Jack do to save this? I quickly murmur the words. “Jack caught up with Coraline as she was about to scurry down the sweeping stone stairs in front of the theater. ‘Stop, my love, what is wrong?’ She looked awful, filled with sorrow. ‘I can’t believe you said that. I thought you felt differently about love? About us?’ She sniveled and Jack reached out for her hand. ‘But I do. You didn’t stay to hear the end of the song.’ He pulled her into his arms and fixed her with an earnest stare. ‘Listen to me, the end of the song is this.’ The corner of his mouth lifted slightly so he could recite the remaining part of the song with tenderness. ‘Is that what love is? Because that’s what I’ve found with you. An eternal love. Coraline. You are my everything. My one.’ He tried waiting on her response, but he needed to be sure she understood him fully. ‘We are meant for each other, Coraline. After everything that happened before us, we need to believe in each other and not let our past destroy what we have. I am not him and you are not her.’ She sniffled a tear back with the emotion that swept through her. ‘Oh Jack, I love you so, and I always will.’ Jack smiled warmly, and he knew there and then that they had a future. One filled with notes of love. THE END.”
Notes in Love Page 11