Dance Upon the Air (14 page)

Independence Day, she thought. She was going to make it hers.

For the first time in nine months, she began to plan for a future that included bank accounts, mail delivery, and personal possessions that couldn't be stuffed into a duffel or backpack at a moment's notice.

A normal, functioning life, she thought as she paused by the display window of Beach Where. The mannequin was wearing breezy summer slacks with bold blue and white stripes and a gauzy white top that scooped low at the breasts. Strappy white sandals as fun as they were impractical adorned its feet.

Nell bit her lip. Her pay was burning a hole in the pocket of her ancient jeans. That had always been her problem, she reminded herself. If she had ten dollars, she could find a way to spend nine of it.

She'd learned how to save and scrimp and resist. How to make five dollars stretch like elastic.

But she hadn't had anything new, anything pretty, in so long. And Mia had been hinting, not quite so gently of late, that she should spruce up a bit on the job.

Plus, she had to make some sort of a showing of herself for the catering sideline. If she was going to be a businesswoman, she should dress the part. On the island that meant casual. Still, casual could mean attractive.

On the other hand, it would be more practical, more sensible, to save the money and invest it in kitchen tools. She needed a food processor more than she needed sandals.

“Are you going to listen to the good angel or the bad angel?”

“Mia.” Vaguely embarrassed at being caught daydreaming over a pair of shoes, Nell laughed. “You startled me.”

“Great sandals. On sale, too.”

“They are?”

Mia tapped the glass just below the Sale sign. “My favorite four-letter word. I smell possibilities, Nell. Let's shop.”

“Oh, but I really shouldn't. I don't need anything.”

“You really do need work.” Mia tossed back her hair, took Nell's elbow in a firm grip, much like a mother with a stubborn child. “Shopping for shoes has nothing to do with need, and everything to do with lust. Do you know how many pair of shoes I own?”

“No.”

“Neither do I,” she said as she strong-armed Nell into the shop. “Isn't that wonderful? They have those slacks in a candy-cane pink. They'd look fabulous on you. Size six?”

“Yes. But I really need to save for a good food processor.” Despite herself she reached out to finger
the material of the slacks that Mia pulled off the rack. “They're so soft.”

“Try them with this.” A brief hunt turned up what Mia considered the perfect top, a clingy white halter. “Don't forget to lose the bra. You've got little feet. Six there, too?”

“Yes, actually.” Nell took a discreet peek at the price tags. Even with the sale it was more than she'd spent on herself in months. She was stuttering protests as Mia shoved her behind a dressing room curtain.

“Trying doesn't mean buying,” she whispered to herself over and over as she stripped down to her practical cotton panties.

Mia was right about the pink, she thought as she slipped into the slacks. The bright color was an instant mood lifter. But the halter, well, that was another matter. It felt . . . decadent to wear something so close-fitting without a bra. And the back—she turned to look over her shoulder. There basically wasn't a back.

Evan would never have allowed her to wear something so revealing and casually suggestive.

Even as the thought popped into her mind, Nell cursed herself.

“Okay, back up and erase,” she ordered herself.

“How you doing in there?”

“Fine. Mia, it's an adorable outfit, but I don't think . . .”

Before she could finish, Mia whisked open the curtain and stood, the sandals in one hand while she tapped her lip with the finger of her free hand. “Perfect. Girl-next-door sexy, casual, chic. Add the shoes. I saw this little bag. Just the thing. Be right back.”

It was like being marched through a campaign by a veteran general, Nell thought. And she, a mere foot soldier, couldn't seem to do anything but follow orders.

Twenty minutes later, her habitual jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers were tucked into a shopping bag. What was left of her cash was stuffed into a palm-size purse that she wore cross-body and at the hip of her new slacks, which flapped softly around her legs in the frisky breeze.

“How do you feel?”

“Guilty. Great.” Unable to resist, Nell wiggled her toes in her new sandals.

“That'll do. Now, let's buy some earrings to go with it.”

Nell abandoned all resistance. Independence Day, she reminded herself. She fell for the rose quartz drops the minute she saw them.

“What is it about earrings that makes you feel so confident?”

“Body adornments show that we're aware of our bodies and expect others to be aware as well. Now, let's take a walk on the beach and get some reaction.”

Nell fingered the pale pink stones swinging from her ears. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“I've been here a month now, and in all that time I haven't seen you with anyone. A date, I mean. A male companion.”

“I'm not interested in anyone at the moment.” Mia held the flat of her hand above her brow to skim the beach. “Yes, there was someone. Once. But that was another phase of my life.”

“Did you love him?”

“Yes, I did. Very much.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry.”

“It's no secret,” Mia said lightly. “And the wound's long healed. I like being on my own, in control of my destiny, and all the little day-to-day decisions and choices. Coupling requires a certain amount of unselfishness. I'm a selfish creature by nature.”

“That's not true.”

“Generosity has levels.” Mia began to walk, lifting her face to the breeze. “And it's not synonymous with altruism. I do what suits me, which stems from self-interest. I don't find that something to apologize for.”

“I've had personal acquaintance with the selfish. You may do what suits you, Mia, but you'd never deliberately hurt anyone. I've watched you with people. They trust you because they know they can.”

“Not causing harm is a responsibility that comes from what I've been given. You're the same.”

“I don't see how that can be. I've been powerless.”

“And because of it you have empathy for those in pain and those who despair. Nothing happens to us without purpose, little sister. What we do because of it, what we do about it, is the key to who and what we are.”

Nell looked out to sea, to the boats gliding, the jet skiers racing, the swimmers gleefully riding the waves. She could turn away, she thought, from what she was being told and what would be asked of her. She could have a calm and normal life here.

Or she could have more.

“The night I stayed at your house, the night of the
solstice, when I saw you on the cliffs I told myself I was dreaming.”

Mia didn't turn, just continued to look calmly out over the ocean. “Is that what you want to believe?”

“I'm not entirely sure. I dreamed of this place. Even when I was a child, I had dreams. For a long time I ignored them, or blocked them out. When I saw the painting—the cliffs, the lighthouse, your house—I had to come here. It was like finally being allowed to come home.”

She looked back at Mia. “I used to believe in fairy tales. Then I learned better. The hard way.”

And so, Mia thought, had she. No man had ever lifted his hand to her, but there were other ways to bruise and scar. “Life isn't a fairy tale, and the gift carries a price.”

A shudder raced up Nell's spine. Easier, she thought, to turn away. Safer, to run away.

A boat out to sea let off a sky rocket. The gleeful shriek of sound ended on a burst of light that showered little specks of gold as it shattered. A delighted roar went up from the beach. She heard a child call out in wonder.

“You said you would teach me.”

Mia let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. So much rested on this. “And so I will.”

They turned together to watch the next rocket soar.

“Are you going to stay to watch the fireworks?” Nell asked her.

“No, I can see them from my cliffs. And it's less frantic. Besides, I hate being a fifth wheel.”

“Fifth wheel?”

“Ladies.” Zack strolled up. It was one of the rare
times he had his badge pinned to his shirt. “I'm going to have to ask you to move along. Two beautiful women standing on the beach creates a safety hazard.”

“Isn't he cute?” Mia reached up to cup his face and give him a noisy kiss. “When I was in third grade, I planned to marry him and live in a sand castle.”

“You might've clued me in on it.”

“You were sweet on Hester Burmingham.”

“No, I just had lustful feelings for her shiny red Schwinn. The Christmas I turned twelve, I got one of my own from Santa, and Hester ceased to exist in my little world.”

“Men are bastards.”

“Maybe, but I've still got the bike, and Hester's got twin girls and a minivan. Happy ending all around.”

“Hester still checks out your butt when you're walking away,” Mia told him, delighted when his mouth dropped open. “And on that note, I take my leave. Enjoy the fireworks.”

“That woman always manages to get the last word,” Zack muttered. “By the time a man untangles his tongue, she's gone. And speaking of getting a man's tongue tangled, you look great.”

“Thanks.” She held her arms out to the side. “I splurged.”

“In all the right places. Let me cart that for you.” He slipped the shopping bag out of her hand.

“I need to take it home, and see to some things.”

“I can walk in that direction for a bit. I was hoping to see you around today. I heard you've been busy, delivering potato salad all over the island.”

“I must've made twenty gallons of it, and enough fried chicken to deplete the poultry population for the next three months.”

“Don't suppose you've got any left.”

Her dimples winked. “I might.”

“It's been hard to find time to eat—traffic control, beach patrol. I had to sit on a couple of kids who thought it'd be fun to toss firecrackers in trash cans and watch them blow up. I've confiscated enough firecrackers, roman candles, and bottle rockets to start my own insurrection. And all that on two hot dogs.”

“That doesn't seem fair.”

“No, it doesn't. I spotted a couple of your box lunches. Looked to me like there was apple pie in there.”

“You have good vision. I could probably hunt up a few drumsticks, scrape together a pint of potato salad. I might even be able to manage a slab of apple pie and donate it to a hardworking public servant.”

“Might even be tax deductible. I've got to supervise the fireworks display.” He stopped at the end of the street. “We usually get it started right around nine.” He set her shopping bag down to run his hands up her bare arms. “Things start thinning out around nine-thirty, nine-forty-five. I lost the toss with Ripley, so I've got to take the last patrol, cruise around the island to make sure nobody's set their house on fire. Maybe you'd like to take a drive.”

“I might.”

His fingers danced up and down her back. “Do me a favor? Put your hands on my shoulders. I'd like you to have a grip on me when I kiss you this time.”

“Zack—” She took two careful breaths. “I'd like you to have a grip on me this time, too.”

He wrapped his arms around her. She circled his neck. For a moment they stood, lips a breath apart while her system shivered with anticipation.

Mouths brushed, retreated, brushed again. It was she who moaned, she who crushed her lips to his on a hot spurt of hunger.

She hadn't let herself want. Even when he'd stirred those dormant needs to life, she'd been careful not to want. Until now.

She wanted the strength of him, the press of that hard, male body. She wanted the ripe flavor of him and the heat.

The silky dance of tongues, the teasing nip of teeth, the edgy thrill of feeling a heart pound against her own. She let out a little gasp of pleasure when he changed the angle of the kiss.

And dived in again.

She set off aches in him that throbbed like pulse beats. Quiet sounds of need hummed in her throat and burned in his blood. Her skin was like hot satin, and the feel of it under his hands sent erotic images through his brain—desires, demands that belonged to the dark.

Dimly he heard another rocket burst, and the shouts of approval from the beach behind them.

He could have her inside her cottage in two minutes. Naked and under him in three.

“Nell.” Breathless, churning toward desperate, he broke the kiss.

And she smiled at him. Her eyes were dark, filled with trust and pleasure.

“Nell,” he said again, and lowered his forehead to
hers. There were times when you took, he knew. And times when you waited. “I've got to make my rounds.”

“All right.”

He picked up her bag, handed it to her. “You'll come back?”

“Yes. I'll come back.” She was floating on air as she spun around and headed for her cottage.

“P
ower,” Mia told
Nell, “carries with it responsibility, a respect for tradition. It must be tempered with compassion, hopefully intelligence, and an understanding of human flaws. It is never to be used carelessly, though there is room for humor. Above all, it must never be used to harm.”

“How did you know you were . . . How did you know what you were?”

“A witch.” Mia sat back on her heels. She was weeding her garden. She was wearing a shapeless dress of grass green with deep pockets in the skirt, thin floral gardening gloves, and a wide-brimmed straw hat. At the moment, she couldn't have looked less like the witch she professed to be.

“You can say the word. It's not illegal. We're not the pointed-hat-wearing, broomstick-riding cacklers that much of fiction drew us to be. We're people—housewives, plumbers, businesswomen. How we live is a personal choice.”

“Covens?”

“Another personal choice. I've never been much of a joiner myself. And most who form groups or study the Craft are just looking for a pastime, or an answer. There's nothing wrong with that. Calling yourself a witch and holding rituals is one thing, being one is another.”

“How do you know the difference?”

“How do I answer you, Nell?” She leaned forward again, neatly snipping off deadheads. “There's something inside you, burning. A song in your head, a whisper in your ear. You know these things as well as I do. You just didn't recognize them.”

The deadhead went along with her weeds into a basket.

“When you peel an apple, haven't you ever thought if you could finish it without breaking the chain, you'd have a wish granted or gather good luck? Snapped a wishbone? Crossed your fingers? Little charms,” Mia said, sitting back again, “old traditions.”

“It can't be as simple as that.”

“As simple as a wish, as complex as love. As dangerous, potentially, as a lightning bolt. Power is risk. It's also joy.”

She picked up one of the deadheads, cupped it gently in her hands. Opening them again, she offered Nell a sunny yellow blossom.

Delighted, fascinated, Nell twirled it in her fingers. “If you can do this, why do you let any of them die?”

“There's a cycle, a natural order. It's to be respected. Change is necessary.” She rose, picked up her basket of weeds and dead flowers, and carried it to a
composter. “Without it there'd be no progress, no rebirth, no anticipation.”

“One flower blooms off to make room for another.”

“A lot of the Craft is philosophy. Would you like to try something more practical?”

“Me?”

“Yes, a simple spell. A stir of the air, I think, considering. Besides, it's a warm day, and a breeze would be welcome.”

“You want me to . . .” Nell made a circling motion with her finger. “Stir the air?”

“It's a matter of technique. You need to focus. Feel the air moving over your face, your body. See it in your mind, rippling, turning. You can hear it, the music of it.”

“Mia.”

“No. Put doubts aside and think of those possibilities. Focus. It's a simple goal. It's all around you. You only have to stir it. Take it in your hands,” she said, lifting her own, “and say the words. ‘Air is breath and breath is air. Stir it round from here to there. Spin a breeze and spin it lightly.' As you will, Nell, so mote it be. Say the words, one times three.”

Mesmerized, Nell repeated them. Felt the faintest flutter across her cheek. Said them again and saw Mia's hair lift. On the third count, Mia's voice joined hers.

The wind spun around them, a private carousel of air, cool and fragrant with a happy little hum. The same hum sounded inside her as Nell turned, circling round and round, her short cap of hair dancing.

“It feels wonderful! You did it.”

“I gave it the last nudge.” Mia laughed as her dress
billowed out. “But you got it started. Very well done for your first time. Now quiet it again. Use your mind. Visualize it going still. That's it. Good. You picture things well.”

“I've always liked to draw moments in my head,” Nell said, breathless now. “You know, images that appeal or that I want to remember. It's sort of like that. Wow, I'm dizzy.” She sat straight down on the ground. “I felt a tingling inside, not unpleasant. Almost like you do when you're thinking—really thinking—about sex.”

“Magic is sexy.” Mia dropped down beside her. “Especially when you hold the power. Have you been doing a lot of thinking about sex?”

“I didn't give it a thought for eight months.” Steadier now, Nell shook back her hair. “I wasn't sure I'd ever want to be with a man again. Since the Fourth, I've been doing a lot of thinking about sex. The kind of thinking that makes you very itchy.”

“Well, I've been there. Why don't you do something about it? Scratch the itch?”

“I thought, I'd assumed, that after the fireworks last week, Zack and I would end up in bed. But after we drove around and he finished his patrol, he took me home. Kissed me good night at the door, the kind of kiss that lifts the top of your head off and spins it around. Then he went home.”

“I don't suppose it occurred to you to drag him inside, toss him on the floor, and rip his clothes off.”

The idea made Nell chuckle. “I can't do things like that.”

“A minute ago you didn't think you could conjure a breeze either. You have the power, little sister.
Zachariah Todd is the kind of man who's willing to put that power in your hands, to give you the choice of time and place. If there was a man like that I was attracted to, and who was attracted to me, I'd do something about that power.”

She felt the tingle again, the stir inside her this time. “I wouldn't know how to begin.”

“Visualize, little sister,” Mia said wickedly. “Visualize.”

Zack couldn't think
of a better way to spend a Sunday morning than skinny-dipping with the girl he loved. The water was cool, the sun warm, and the inlet private enough to allow for such activities.

They discussed taking a sail later, and the adoration in her beautiful brown eyes told him she'd follow him anywhere. He stroked her, sent her into a wiggle of delight before they swam companionably through the crisp and quiet water.

When a man had a female so uncomplicatedly devoted, Zack figured, he had it all.

Then she gave a yip of excitement, splashed a stream of water in his face, and headed to shore. Zack watched his boon companion desert him for the woman standing on the rough bank.

Lucy bounded onto the bank and straight into Nell, knocking her back two full steps and drenching her with seawater and doggie kisses.

Zack listened to Nell's laughter, watched her scrub her hands enthusiastically over Lucy's wet fur. Maybe
a man who had a pretty dog didn't have quite everything, he decided.

“Hey. How's it going?”

“It's going good.” Shoulders, she thought. The man had amazing shoulders. “How's the water?”

“Close to perfect. Come on in, see for yourself.”

“Thanks, but I don't have a suit with me.”

“Me either.” He flashed a grin. “Which is why I didn't follow Lucy's example.”

“Oh.” Her gaze shot down, then immediately back up to hover six inches over his head. “Well. Ha.”

Visualize, Mia had told her. But this didn't seem quite the appropriate time.

“I promise not to look. You're already wet.”

“All the same, I think I'll stay out here.”

Lucy dived back in, retrieved a mangled rubber ball. After scrabbling back to shore again, she deposited it neatly at Nell's feet.

“Wants to play,” Zack told her. And so did he.

Obliging, Nell picked up the ball and tossed it. Before it hit the surface, Lucy was leaping in pursuit.

“Pretty good arm. We've got a softball game coming up in a couple of weeks if you're interested.” He drifted closer to the bank as he spoke.

Nell scooped up the ball Lucy retrieved, heaved it again. “Maybe. I was thinking about trying out another recipe.”

“Is that so?”

“The catering's turning into an actual enterprise. If I want to expand on it, I need to be able to offer a variety of dishes.”

“I'm a strong believer in capitalism, so anything I can do to help.”

She looked down. He had such a nice face, she thought. She would just concentrate on that and wouldn't think about the rest of him. Right now. “I appreciate that, Sheriff. I've been playing it by ear so far, but I think it's time to put together an actual list, with pricing and services. If I do all that, formalize it, I have to apply for a business license.”

That wouldn't be a problem, she assured herself. She was clear.

“It's going to keep you busy.”

“I like being busy. There's nothing worse than not being able to do anything with your time or your interests.” She shook her head. “And don't I sound dull and boring?”

No, but she had sounded grim. “How do you feel about recreation?”

“I approve of recreation.” Her eyebrows lifted as he hooked a hand lightly around her ankle. “And just what is that?”

“I call it the long arm of the law.”

“You're too nice to pull me in after I've come over here to offer to feed you.”

“No, I'm not.” He gave her foot a playful little tug. “But I'm willing to give you a chance to strip first.”

“That's considerate of you.”

“My mother raised me right. Come on in and play, Nell.” He glanced back at Lucy, who was busy paddling around with the ball in her mouth. “We've got a chaperone.”

Why not? she thought. She wanted to be with him. Even more, she wanted to be the kind of woman who
could
be with him. A woman confident and open
enough to do something fun and foolish like tossing off her clothes and diving in.

The grin she sent him was quick and careless. As she toed off her shoes, he treaded water. “I changed my mind. I'm going to watch,” he warned her. “I'd tell you I wouldn't peek, but I'd be lying.”

“Do you lie?”

“Not if I can help it.” His gaze lowered as she gripped the hem of her T-shirt. “So I'm not going to tell you I'll keep my hands off you once you get in here. I want you wet and naked, Nell. I just plain want you.”

“If I wanted you to keep your hands off me, I wouldn't be here.” She took a deep breath, started to peel off her shirt.

“Sheriff Todd! Sheriff Todd!”

“There is no God,” Zack grumbled as the lovely glimpse of creamy flesh vanished under Nell's hastily tugged-down shirt. “Out here,” he called. “Is that you, Ricky?” To Nell, he said, “It'll only take me two, three minutes to drown him. Just stand by.”

“Yes, sir, Sheriff.”

A towheaded boy of about ten scrambled across the rocky slope, his freckled face pink with excitement. He gave Nell a hasty nod. “Ma'am. Sheriff, my mom said I was to come right over and tell you. The tenants in the Abbott rental are having a big fight. There's screaming and crashing and cursing and everything.”

“Is that Dale Abbott's or Buster's place?”

“Buster's, Sheriff. The one right across from ours. Mom says it sounds like the man in there's beating the woman something fierce.”

“I'm on my way. Go on back. Go straight home and in the house.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nell stayed where she was. She saw a blur of tanned, muscled body as Zack levered himself out of the water. “Sorry, Nell.”

“No, you need to go. You need to help her.” It felt as though there were a thin glaze over her brain as she watched him hitch on jeans. “Hurry.”

“I'll be back as soon as I can.”

He left her there, hated leaving her there with her hands gripping each other tightly, and bolted up the steps to get a shirt.

He was at the Abbott rental in under four minutes. A handful of people edged the street while the sounds of shouting and breaking glasses poured out of the house. A man Zack didn't recognize jogged up to him as he approached the deck stairs.

“You're the sheriff. I'm Bob Delano, renting the place next door. I tried seeing what I could do, but the doors're locked. I thought about breaking one in, but they said you were on the way.”

“I'll take care of it, Mr. Delano. Maybe you could keep those people back.”

“Sure. I've seen that guy, Sheriff. Big sonofabitch. You want to watch yourself.”

“I appreciate it. Get on back now.” Zack pounded a fist on the door. Though he'd have preferred to have Ripley with him, he hadn't risked waiting for her to answer his beeper call. “This is Sheriff Todd. I want you to open the door, and open it now.” Something shattered inside, and a woman began to wail. “If this door isn't open in five seconds, I'm kicking it in.”

The man came to the door. Delano was right. He was one big sonofabitch. Six-four, maybe, and a good two seventy-five. He looked hungover and mad as piss.