by Nora Roberts
When he eased away, wanting to see it, needing to see it, he murmured again. Just “Olivia.”
Now she pulled back, taking defense in temper. “This isn’t going to happen again.”
“Liv.” His voice was quiet and serious. “It already is.”
No, she told herself. Absolutely not. “Typical. That’s just typical.” She spun around and strode back to the blanket to begin tossing everything back in her pack.
Typical? Noah couldn’t think of anything typical about having the top of his head sheared off. He still couldn’t pull all his thoughts back in, but he managed to walk over, turn her around.
“Listen—”
“Hands off.” She knocked them away. “Do you think I don’t know what this is about? If you can’t convince me with your so-called logic and charm, add some physical stimuli. Just like before.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” With a wiry strength she’d underestimated, he held her still when she would have shoved away. His eyes flashed with a temper she realized was much more potent than his lazy good looks indicated. “You’re not turning that around, not this way. You know damn well I didn’t hike for four fucking hours just so I could cop a feel. If I’d wanted to move on you, I’d have done it in some nice, warm room before I had blisters.”
“You did move on me,” she corrected icily and only made him bare his teeth.
“I didn’t plan it, it just happened. And you weren’t fighting me off. You want to be pissed off about it, fine, but let’s have it for the real reason.”
They glared at each other while Shirley whimpered and bumped her body between theirs. “All right.” Olivia opted to retreat behind dignity. “I’ll be pissed off because you took advantage of a momentary weakness.”
“There’s not a weak bone in your body,” he muttered and let her go. “How long are you going to make me pay for a mistake I made six years ago? How many ways do you want me to apologize for it?”
“I don’t want an apology. I want to forget it.”
“But you haven’t. And neither have I. Do you want to know how many times I thought of you?”
“No.” She said it quickly, the single word a rush. “No, I don’t. If we want to find a way to deal with each other on this, Noah, then we concentrate on where we are now, not where we were then.”
“Is that the MacBride way? If it’s tough to deal with, bury it?” He regretted it instantly, not only because it was out of line, but because of the unguarded flare of shock and misery in her eyes. “Liv, I’m sorry.”
He reached for her, swearing under his breath as she jerked away. “I’m sorry,” he said again, and very precisely. “That was uncalled for. But you weren’t the only one who was hurt. You sliced me in half that day. So maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s better to put it away and start now.”
They packed up in silence, taking scrupulous care not to touch in any way. When they were back in the forest, she became the impersonal guide, pointing out any plants of interest, identifying wildlife and blocking any personal conversation.
Noah decided she might as well have snugged that glass dome over herself. She was inside it now, and untouchable.
That would make it simpler all around, he told himself. He didn’t want to touch her again. Couldn’t, for his own survival, risk it.
He spent the last two hours of the hike dreaming about burning his boots and washing the lingering taste of her out of his mouth with a good, stiff drink.
twenty
As the lodge came in sight, Noah’s plan was simple. He was simple. He was going straight to the bar to buy a bottle, make that two bottles of beer. He was taking both up to his room where he would drink them during his hour-long hot shower.
If that didn’t make him feel human again, well, he’d just order up some raw meat and gnaw at it.
The light was fading to a pearly gray with a few wild streaks of color in the western sky. But he wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it.
For God’s sake, he’d only kissed her. It wasn’t as if he’d ripped her clothes off and dragged her to the ground for maniac sex. The fact that the image of doing just that held entirely too much appeal only made him grind his teeth as he pulled open the door to the lodge.
He turned to her, started to make some blisteringly polite comment on her ability as guide, when the desk clerk hurried over.
“Mr. Brady, you had a call from your mother. She said it was urgent.”
Everything inside him froze, then started to churn sickly. “My mother?”
“Yes, she called about an hour after you left this morning, and again at three. She asked that you call her at home as soon as you came in.”
He had a horrible and vivid image of cops coming to the door. Every family of those on the job knew what it meant when you opened the door and cops were standing there, their faces carefully blank.
His father was retired. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.
“I—”
“You can call from in here.” Olivia took his arm gently, spoke with absolute calm. The blank fear on his face set off screams of alarm in her head, but her hand was steady as she led him past the desk and into a back office.
“You can dial direct from here. I’ll just—” She started to step back, intending to give him privacy, but his hand clamped over hers.
He said nothing at all, just held on while he dialed the number. His grip on her anchored him as a dozen terrors spun through his head. His palm went sweaty on the receiver as it rang once, twice, then his mother’s voice, rushed and breathless, had a spike of ice slicing into his gut.
“Mom?”
“Oh, Noah, thank goodness.”
“Dad?” He lived a thousand hells in the heartbeat it took her to answer.
“No, no, honey. It’s not Frank. Your father’s fine.” Before his knees could buckle with relief, she was rushing on. “It’s Mike, Noah.”
“Mike?” His fingers tightened on Olivia’s, turning both their knuckles white. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Noah, I—God . . . He’s in the hospital. He’s in a coma. We don’t know how bad. They’re running tests, they’re doing everything they . . .”
When she began to weep, Noah felt his guts slide into greasy knots. “What happened? A car accident?”
“No, no. Someone hurt him. Someone hit him and hit him. From behind, they say. He was in your house last night.”
“At the beach house? He was at my place?” Denial and fear pounded through him. “It happened last night?”
“Yes. I didn’t hear about it until this morning, early this morning. Your father’s at the hospital now. I’m going back. They’ll only let one of us sit with him at a time, for just a few minutes. He’s in Intensive Care.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll take the first flight out.”
“One of us will be at the hospital. Maggie and Jim—” Her voice broke again when she spoke of Mike’s parents. “They shouldn’t be alone there.”
“I’m on my way. I’ll come straight there. Mom . . .” He could think of nothing. Nothing. “I’m on my way,” he said again. He hung up the phone, then just stared at it. “My friend, he was attacked. He’s in a coma. I have to go home.”
He still had her hand, but his grip was loose now. She could feel his fingers tremble. “Go pack what you need. I’ll call the airport, book you a flight.”
“What?”
Her heart broke for him. Looking at his pale face and stunned eyes, there was room for no other feeling but pity. “It’ll save time, Noah. Just go up and get what you need. I’ll get you to the airport.”
“Yeah . . . God.” He snapped back, eyes clearing, face going hard and tight. “Just get me a seat, whatever gets me to L.A. quickest. Standby if nothing else. I’ll be ready in five minutes.”
He was as good as his word and was back at the office door before she’d completed the booking. He hadn’t bothered to change, she noted, and carried only his backpack and laptop.
She snagged a set of keys off a board as she headed out of the office. She jogged to a Jeep in the side lot, unlocked it and climbed in as he tossed his pack in the back.
“I appreciate it.”
“It’s all right. Don’t worry about the rest of your things and your car. We’ll deal with it.” She drove fast, her hands competent on the wheel, her eyes straight ahead. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
The initial shakes had passed, but he laid his throbbing head back against the seat. “I’ve known him forever. Second grade. He moved into the neighborhood. Pudgy kid, a complete dork. You were honor bound to beat the shit out of him. I was going to take my shot but just couldn’t do it. He was so oblivious of his own dorkiness. Still is. He had this ridiculous crush on Marcia Brady.”
“Is she your cousin?”
“Huh? Oh, Brady. No, Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. The Brady Bunch.” He opened his eyes long enough to give her a look of astonishment, then sighed. “Right, no TV. Doesn’t matter. He’s the sweetest person I know. Dead loyal and completely harmless. Son of a bitch!” He pounded his fist on the dash, then pressed his hands to his face. “Son of a bitch. He’s in a coma, a fucking coma. My mother was crying. She holds, she always holds. If she’s breaking like that it has to be bad. Really bad.”
She wanted to pull over, for just a minute, to take him to her, hold on to him until he found some comfort. It was an urge she’d never felt with anyone other than family. So she tightened her hands on the wheel and punched the gas.
“It’s my fault.” Noah dropped his hands on his lap, let them lie there limply.
“That’s a ridiculous thing to say.” She kept her voice brisk, practical. Logic, she thought, was more productive than a comforting hug. “You weren’t even there.”
“I didn’t take it seriously enough. I didn’t take her seriously enough. I sent him over there. Water the goddamn plants. Water the plants, Mike. And I knew she was half crazy.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“I was seeing this woman for a while. It wasn’t serious on my end, but I should have seen it. I just sort of drifted along with it—why the hell not? Good sex with a great body, a snappy-looking woman to hang out with. When it got complicated, I broke things off. Then it got nasty. There were some altercations, then the big one where she trashed my house while I was away.”
“Trashed your house?”
“Big time. I had to scoop up most of what was left with a shovel.”
“That’s horrible. Really. Why didn’t you have her arrested?”
“Couldn’t prove it. Everybody knew she’d done it, just her style, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. She tossed a few more threats in my face, made another scene. Then I go flying off, and tell Mike to water my flowers while I’m gone.”
“If this very bizarre woman is the one who hurt your friend, then it’s her fault. It’s her responsibility. It’s her guilt.”
He said nothing to that. He was suffering, Olivia thought. She could feel the pain coming off him in shaky waves. And couldn’t stand it. “When . . . after my mother’s death I went through a period where I blamed myself. I’d run away and I’d hidden in the closet. I didn’t do anything to help her.”
“Jesus, Liv, you were four.”
“Doesn’t matter. That doesn’t matter, Noah. When you love someone and something terrible happens to them, it doesn’t matter how old you are. After that,” she continued, “I went through another stage when I blamed her. What the hell was she thinking? She let him in the house. She let the monster in,” she murmured and shuddered once. “She let him in, and he took her away from me. She left me. I blamed her for that.”
She flinched when he lifted a hand to touch her cheek, then blew out a steadying breath. “Maybe you have to go through those stages before you can get to the truth of it. Sam Tanner was to blame. He was the only one to blame. Not me, not my mother.”
“You’re right. I owe you for this.”
“The lodge would have done the same for anyone.”
“No. I owe you.” He laid his head back again, closed his eyes and rode the rest of the way in silence.
Noah was running on nerves alone by the time he rushed off the elevator in ICU. During the flight he’d imagined Mike dead. Then jumped to giddy images of his friend popping up in bed and making a lame joke. When the cab had dropped him at the hospital, he was nearly ready to believe it had all been some weird dream.
Then he saw his mother sitting on a bench in the silent hallway, her arm around Maggie Elmo. Guilt and fear balled messily in his throat.
“Oh, Noah.” Celia got quickly to her feet to throw her arms around him. He felt her stomach quiver against his. “I’m so glad you’re here. There’s no change,” she added in a whisper.
“I need to see him. Can I . . .” He shook his head, then forced himself to ease away and face Maggie. “Mrs. Elmo.”
“Noah.” Tears began to trickle out of her already swollen eyes as she reached for him. He lowered to the bench, wrapped his arms tight around her. “He’ll want you here. He’ll want to see you when he wakes up. He’s going to wake up. Any minute now.”
He hung on to her faith as desperately as he held on to her. “We’ve been taking turns going in.” Celia rubbed a hand over Noah’s back. “Frank and Jim are in there now. But Maggie has to lie down for a while.”
“No, I—”
“You said you’d lie down when Noah got here.” All but crooning the words, Celia drew Maggie to her feet. “They’ve got a bed for you, remember? You just need to stretch out for a few minutes. We want to give Noah some time with Mike, don’t we? I’ll sit with you.” She sent Noah a quiet look, then still murmuring, led Maggie down the hall.
Swamped with grief, Noah lowered his head to his hands. He hadn’t moved when Frank came through the double doors to the left and saw him. Saying nothing, Frank sat, laid an arm over Noah’s shoulders.
“I don’t know what to do,” Noah said when he could speak again.
“You’re doing it. You’re here.”
“I want to hurt her. I’m going to find a way to make her pay for this.”
“That’s not what you need to focus on now.”
“You know she did this.” Noah straightened, stared at Frank with burning eyes. “You know she did.”
“It’s very possible. She’ll be questioned as soon as they locate her, Noah.” He gripped Noah’s shoulder, cutting off the vicious stream of oaths. “She can’t be charged without evidence.”
“She’ll dance. Goddamn it, Dad, you know she’ll dance around this. I’m not letting her get away with it.”
“I don’t know that,” Frank said firmly. “Neither do you. But I am telling you, as your father and as a cop, to stay away from her. If you follow through on what you’re feeling right now, you’ll only make matters worse. Let her box herself in, Noah, so we can put her away.”
If Mike died, Noah thought, they wouldn’t be able to put her away deep enough.
He stayed at the hospital until dawn, then went to his parents’ house, collapsed facedown on his childhood bed and dropped into oblivion for four hours.
When he’d showered off twenty-four hours of sweat and fatigue, he went into the kitchen.
His mother was there, dressed in an ancient terry-cloth robe and breaking eggs into a bowl. Because love for her burst through him, he went to her, wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back against him.
“Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”
She managed a quiet laugh, lifting a hand up and around to pat his face. “I threw out the house rules this morning. Real eggs, real coffee all around. It’s going to be another long day.”
“Yeah.” He looked over the top of her head, through the kitchen window into the
yard beyond. “Remember when Mike and I tried to build that fort out back? We got all this scrap wood together and these rusted nails. Of course, he stepped on one and had to get a tetanus shot.”
“Screamed bloody murder when he stepped on the nail. I thought he’d cut off an arm.” She let out a laughing sigh that ended perilously close to a sob. “I love that boy. And I’m ashamed that after I heard what happened, my first thought was thank God it wasn’t Noah. Oh, poor Maggie.”