Halos (14 page)

She swallowed. That was a good point. But he’d definitely made up some silly excuse to get rid of her. A thought dropped like a coin in a slot machine. “Do you know something? Did they find my car?”

Steve shook his head. “No.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. No car, but there was something he wasn’t telling.

Frustration crawled her throat. “What’s going on?” He glared. “I was worried.”

She stared into his face. “About me?”

“Yes. Sort of.”

She scanned the store, confused.

“It doesn’t matter; I figured it out.” He circled the desk and sat down.

Figured what out? She stood her fingers on the desk. “You know something.”

“No, I don’t. I was on the wrong track.” He looked up. “I read it wrong and reacted.”

Her fingers softened. He’d been afraid for her. He had protected her. Never mind that he’d been mistaken. Warmth poured over her like molasses. “Well … thanks.”

He bushed his hair up like a shaggy hedgehog and started typing.

With Alessi busy at the front of the store, Steve accessed the library files of the
Chambers City Chronicle
dating over five years ago. There was the article his father had clipped noting the disappearance of one of Charity’s citizens. Beth Hansen was reported missing by her husband, Duke. A search had been organized but proved unsuccessful.

Steve studied the enlarged photograph on his screen. The similarity was less in features than in type: blond curling hair, thin neck, and something vulnerable in the expression. It had been a lot of years since he’d seen Beth in person, and he hadn’t paid much attention since she’d been older and married. He hardly remembered her, but what he recalled was the sense of someone waiting for calamity.

A subsequent article was only a couple of paragraphs. They had found a letter stating Beth’s decision to leave Charity and her husband, Duke. The search had been discontinued.

Steve leaned back in the chair, his chest constricting, though not by memories anymore. He couldn’t access the loss he’d felt when his mother left. It was more the lingering questions, the anger, the sense that he was in some way deficient. No wonder Carl had stared at Alessi with a look of hunger and disdain. He’d been seeing his mother’s face.

It must have been a jolt. Steve rubbed his hand over his eyes. How many times had he imagined his own mother’s return? He’d looked for her in every new face, wondering. Carl had eleven years of recognition to draw on. He could not have missed the likeness between Alessi and his mother. Even the obvious age difference might not have registered, since Carl’s memories would be years old. No surprise that he’d frozen and hid. Steve wished he could have talked to him, but what would he have said?

He got up and watched Alessi working on a shelf he rarely bothered with. The books there were in poor condition, not worth much. But she was taking each one, wiping it clean of dust and cobwebs, and carefully replacing it as though they were all priceless. He supposed she couldn’t tell the difference.

She took one out and started to wipe it, then paused, running her finger over something on the cover. Curious, he approached her. The book was
Religious Art of the Renaissance
, the cover Filippo Lippi’s
Adoration
. Alessi was tracing the halo around the Madonna’s head.

Steve leaned over her. “Is that what you see?”

She shook her head, glancing up. “No. I just see light.” He nodded. “Those are symbolic. A halo motif.”

“Oh.” She opened the book and paged slowly through the fragile leaves. The binding was all but shot, though the pages were in fair condition. She turned to
The Madonna of the Rocks
by da Vinci and paused.

Steve waited curiously to see if she would pick up on the accepted halo elements in the work, the diffused light around the Madonna’s head, her cupped hand suspended over the infant Jesus.

She studied it a long time, then turned the page.

He said, “I guess you’re not alone in your angel sightings.”

She balanced the barely hinged book across her knees. “I don’t see angels—just halos and the good that comes after.”

Steve rolled her words over in his mind. Definitely not the language of a T-shirt mongering beach babe, yet there was a lack of sophistication, almost ignorance, in spite of her knowledge of stories. Maybe gaps in her education, like migrant workers’ kids. She was a study in contradictions—either the most real person he’d met or the con of all cons.

As it was, the last few days had been interesting to say the least. Certainly distracting and not unenjoyable, which was saying a lot since the grief of Dad’s passing pressed in. It was also the first Christmas without Barb, but he didn’t miss her. He did, in dark moments, hope she was shivering in some shack, but he doubted it. The poor sod she chose had probably taken her out of Alaska to the big city, where he carried her design books and took pictures of her events.

More power to you. My blessing on you both. And my deepest thanks for returning my sanity
. He squatted next to Alessi and flicked the book’s flimsy spine. “I ought to have that bound. Dad used to do the repairs himself, but I never learned how.”

“Things get lost between generations.”

He looked into her face. “What did you lose?”

“Family.”

Nineteen

A
LESSI APPROACHED BEN AT THE COUNTER as he closed out the register for the day. He looked up. “Hey, Alessi.”

“Hi, Ben.” The picture of Clark Gable as Rhett Butler lay on tissue at the counter. “What’s this for?”

“Mary’s Christmas present. She won’t say it, but I know she likes that piece of my collection best.” He formed a wry smile. “Most gals would, I guess.”

“That’s really nice.”

“She’s got one of those Barbie dolls dressed up as Scarlet. So I think she could hang this near the doll.”

Alessi nodded. “That’d be great. Sort of like he’s the big dream in her mind.” She had loved
Gone With the Wind
. Scarlett’s “Tomorrow is another day” had resonated somewhere deep inside her. No matter the obstacle, the setback, she could dig down and face another day. That was when she learned to stand up straight and stop hunching her shoulders.

“Ben, I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

“Sure.”

She laughed. “You haven’t heard it yet.”

He gathered the picture with the tissue and tucked it all under the counter. “What is it?”

“Would you drive me around to find my car? I’ve gone about as far as I can on foot.”

“You want to look in the dark?” He glanced out the station windows.

“Steve doesn’t close until after the sun’s down, but I have been searching in the morning before he opens.”

Ben frowned. “By yourself?”

She sighed. “I hope I’m not the only one looking, but I’m not too confident Sheriff Roehr is putting out his best effort.”

Ben took his keys and headed her toward the door. “I’ll drive you around some.”

The gasoline-scented air bit when they stepped out, and Alessi pulled her collar close. After Ben locked the station, she climbed into his Jeep Cherokee. She might not be able to see much in the dark, but she’d at least get a feel for the area and where she could look in the daylight. Then again, she might actually see the Mustang. You never knew if you didn’t try.

Ben’s radio played “Sultans of Swing,” then Roy Orbison’s “Crying,” followed by the Beach Boys and Kansas, as he drove slowly around the outlying areas. She breathed the lingering aroma of coffee and French fries. Ben’s car wasn’t too tidy. But she noticed a kid’s-meal box and guessed part of the clutter was Cait’s and Lyn’s. Ben’s stomach growled.

She turned from the window. “You’re hungry.”

He tipped his chin. “I can’t say no when my stomach just said yes.”

“Let’s go back. I’ll look again tomorrow.”

Ben brought the car around and drove them to the house. “Sure am sorry about your car.”

“I know. But I’ll find it.” It was getting harder to sound confident. But tomorrow
was
another day.

Steve drew the fry basket out and tipped the crisp, battered fish and chips onto the paper towels. He glanced up when Ben and Alessi walked in together. She had slipped out from the store without his noticing, and it irked him now to see her with Ben. He ought to be glad she hadn’t gone off alone in the dark as he’d thought. But she had snuck out without a word. Weren’t women supposed to be the great communicators?

Alessi went into the bathroom, and Steve accosted Ben. “Where were you?” He had checked the station and found it locked up.

Ben whispered, “She wanted to look for her car. I drove her around.”

Steve frowned. “Where?”

“South side mainly.”

She could have asked him. Maybe it was just that he was occupied. Or she didn’t trust him to help. “Did you see anything?”

Ben shook his head. “It was pretty dark. And I doubt it’s here.”

Steve rumpled his hair. Alessi hadn’t chased it in the street lately. Maybe she had been mistaken the other night. Maybe the car was miles away. He almost hoped so.

Alessi came into the kitchen. “Sure smells good.”

Was there any food she didn’t like? “It’s not bikini food. Except the salad.” He pointed to the chopped tomato and cucumber in vinaigrette.

Dave came in and washed up at the sink with his green bar of Lava soap. “Smells like fish.”

Steve had to admit this meal would be with them for a while, but sometimes on a cold night there was nothing like the crisp, greasy taste of battered cod and fries. And on his night it was his choice. Alessi pitched in by setting the table, and he carried the platter of fried food. They gathered and Ben said a blessing. Alessi murmured a caveat to help her find her car. Maybe that was the answer: God.

Dave might not appreciate the smell, but he dug into the meal. Steve watched Alessi as they ate. She seemed subdued, probably from her fruitless search. He had a sudden urge to drive her around himself. Not with any expectation of finding it, but just to show he was willing to try. Why had she gone to Ben instead?

Dave wiped his mouth. “Diana’s coming over to play dictionary.”

Steve shared a glance with Ben. Not exactly his plan for the evening, though he wasn’t sure what he’d do instead. Probably go back to the store and work. Except that was Alessi’s space after hours. She’d probably play the game, though.

“Karen’s coming, too, Steve.”

He jerked up his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’ll be outnumbered if you run off.”

He frowned. “You won’t beat them anyway.”

“We might.”

Alessi laid down her fork. “What’s dictionary?”

Dave pushed his plate aside. “We make two teams, guys and gals. One team chooses a word from the dictionary and writes out its definition. Then they make up three more. The other team has to guess the right one.”

She nodded. “Sounds like fun. Why don’t you like it, Steve?”

“No one said I didn’t.” He looked at the guys. “I just have work to do.”

Ben sighed. “You’re worse than Dave on an engine. At least he knows when to quit.”

Steve dragged his last bite of fish through the malt vinegar on his plate. It hadn’t always been this way. He had never been one to sit around, nor was he plagued with tunnel vision. Only since Dad’s death and Barb’s desertion had he learned to hibernate.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t the most gregarious man by nature. Barb had driven him crazy with her constant social needs. Companionship was fine, but did everything have to be a party? He met Alessi’s gaze. “I’ll play.” She might guess him incapable of fun, but he was good with words and conniving. Nowhere near Karen’s proficiency, but no matter.

He had barely finished cleaning up the kitchen when the women arrived, Karen bearing her two-volume Webster’s tome. That was another inequity. She probably studied the thing at night like a Bible, so she’d know where to look for the most insidious words. They clustered in their teams, and he noted again how Alessi had connected with the two women. No doubt all of Charity would have embraced her—if it weren’t for the car.

In his visits he’d sensed almost a resentment of Alessi for accusing Charity of something impossible. Or at the least for bringing temptation in the form of her shiny red car. He wished she’d never lost it. Did he wish she’d never come?

“You haven’t written yours, Steve,” Dave hissed in his ear. “Are you drawing a blank?”

Steve shook his head. “Just let me see the word again.”

They played until ten o’clock, when Diana yawned and said, “I have an eight-o’clock perm. Gents, this is your last chance.”

Several times they had drawn their score close to the women’s. But they were still trailing.

“Find a good word,” Karen’s eyes gleamed, “and we’ll give you double points.”

“We could tie it with that,” Ben said.

Steve took the dictionary, holding Karen’s eyes. “You’re sealing your fate.”

Karen folded her hands. “We’ll take that chance.” She glanced at Alessi. “With our new secret weapon.”

Alessi’s definitions had been easy to discard, but she had an uncanny knack for ferreting out the right one of theirs. Steve could swear she didn’t know the words, practically didn’t listen to the definitions. She just watched whichever of them was reading.

Steve scanned the pages and came to
xenogenesis
—the production of offspring entirely unlike their parents. He showed it to the guys and got their nods. He said the word aloud to the women, and none of them knew it. So he quickly jotted the real definition and one of his own as the other two made up their versions. He took the papers and mixed them solemnly while Diana giggled.

“You’d make a great undertaker with that face, Steve.”

He flicked a glance to Alessi, who was studying him closely. Undertaker face or not, he was giving nothing away this time. He pulled the first paper and read it, careful to do nothing with the inflection that would indicate its veracity. He slid the slip to the bottom and read the next with equal aplomb.

His false one was next and he stumbled a little but got it out, then read the last. They got no points if all the women guessed the right one, double points for whichever decoys any of them fell for. Diana had to guess first this time. She chose Dave’s, as she had with regularity throughout the evening. Either their minds worked alike or she felt sorry for him.

Steve noted her vote and went to Alessi. She stared into his face and said, “I’d like to hear them again.”

He frowned. This time he would only look at the papers, no glancing up at all. He read through the choices in the same order, and he didn’t stumble on any of them. But when he met Alessi’s eyes, he sensed her confidence. She chose the right one and Karen parroted her answer, leaving the guys four points short of the tie.

“Well, of course you two got it.” Steve handed the dictionary to Karen. “Next time we’re blindfolding Alessi.” He had no idea what she’d seen, but she was some kind of clairvoyant if she’d read anything from his expression that last time.

“The Lord loveth a cheerful loser, Steve.” Karen took the books with a laugh.

“Find that chapter and verse.”

She laughed harder. “It’s implied.”

“Your interpretation.” Let her laugh. He didn’t care about losing; it was Alessi’s uncanny ability to read him he didn’t like.

Diana stood and stretched, and Alessi unfolded beside her. She’d have a dark walk back to the store. He stood reluctantly. “I’ll walk you back.”

“Oh, we’ll give her a ride.” Diana took her arm. “Good night, Dave.” She smooched his head. “Nice tree, by the way.” She and Karen giggled, and Dave reddened.

A twinge of disappointment stung Steve as the girls walked out the door. Had he wanted to say good night to Alessi outside the store? He frowned, watching Dave wipe lipstick from his crown.

“I wish she wouldn’t do that,” he mumbled. But the goofy grin said otherwise.

Just another example of female brainwashing. And after Alessi’s demonstration tonight, he intended to keep his brain to himself.