Retribution (6 page)

He quietly closed the door and tried to clear from his mind the flicker of confusion between sympathy and hate. She may have been a victim as much as he, but no matter, the quicker he finished what he had to do, the sooner life could start over.

The pounding that had been hammering his chest ever since Lillian's arrival gradually slowed. Power surged through him like a swirling phantom, starting in his gut and working outward, until the sensation filled him. He closed his eyes, enjoying the invincibility that always came before a battle.

~*~

So far, Lillian's glorious arrival had turned out as anticipated, with the exception of her diminished persona. It was more than her gaunt appearance; her whole aura had dimmed.

Roger had expected her to remain the same, unchanged by loss and rejection. Two years ago, when she had made him feel small, anyone who could penetrate his well-hewn defenses had to be made of iron. He had forgotten that iron rusted.

Entering the kitchen, he looked toward the tray of cookies and sniffed. “Oatmeal raisin?”

Ted shrugged, not bothering to glance up as he poured tea from the gallon jug into the plastic pitcher. “It's the only kind Trina bakes anymore. She can't get enough of them.”

The kitchen door opened. “Suits me fine,” Bill said as he grabbed a cookie from the plate. “She seem strange to you?”

“Trina?” A stack of napkins dangled from Ted's hand as he stared at his father-in-law.

“Ms. Hunter.”

“No, why?”

“There's something about her that's off.”

Why would Bill think Lillian strange? The big man hadn't known her when she had been the ice princess. True, Bill had a way of seeing through people, understanding the whole picture when everyone else was still trying to figure out the problem, but surely not even Bill could deduce who had brought Lillian to Darlington. “Off, like how?” Roger finally asked.

“Her suitcase, to start with.”

“What's wrong with her suitcase?”

Black, small, but too big to use as a carry-on. Nothing special about it. Certainly nothing that raised an alarm in his mind.

“
One
suitcase.” Bill wiped crumbs from his hands on his pants and glanced at Ted. “When was the last time someone checked in with one suitcase?”

“Maybe she likes to travel light.” Ted moved the napkins from the left to the right of the tray, his mouth pursed in thought.

“She's moving here.” Bill leaned against the counter. “She should have more than one suitcase.” Bill reached for another cookie.

Ted pulled the tray away. “Save some for our guest.”

“You get more like Trina every day,” Bill mumbled as he snatched a cookie and shoved it into his mouth. “And what about this job?” Crumbs spewed and he grabbed a napkin. “Doesn't she need books and things?”

Roger glanced from man to man, following the conversation but hesitant to add to it. He had heard stories of Bill's spiritual gift: the man's ability to feel things that others couldn't. According to Trina, God had even sent Bill a vision.

Roger hesitated to disregard the man's abilities. Regardless of where the knowledge came from, Bill knew things, and Roger's already thin nerves frayed even more.

“You're too used to Trina and all her plunder.” Ted stood back and examined his work. “Most likely, Ms. Hunter has her things stored somewhere and she'll get them when she's ready. Or maybe she shipped them.” Ted picked up the loaded tray and headed toward the hall. “You guys coming?”

Bill snickered. “You forgot your frilly apron, Ted.”

Roger hesitated. Should he go home or wait to see if Lillian would appear on the porch? His muscles sagged as the familiar emptiness settled over him. He had not always worn the invisible black cloak. Oh, he had never been like Ted, favored by God Himself, but there had been a time when he had lived in the light. Now, forced into a life of someone else's creation, he slunk from one dark day to the next.

He knew exactly when he had changed from man to monster. The first time he had said yes, the dark beast had taken up residence in the deepest chambers of his heart. And whenever he had said yes after that, the beast had grown, and the light had faded, until he had lost control of his own destiny.

And now, another partnership. He hated this person more than he had ever hated anyone in his life. More than his mother and her string of boyfriends. More than the juvenile system that failed to protect him. More than a lot of things. And yet the partnership defined his life right now. Was the monster inside him a demon going along for the ride, or simply a figure of his own imagination? It didn't matter.

Lillian remained his only hope to forever be free from its grip.

5

Alone in the room, Lillian wiped her wet face with her hands. Although trained to cautiously make first impressions, several issues nagged at her exhausted brain.

Ted was a dear, and the bed and breakfast appeared to be more than adequate. But the other two men bothered her.

Too tired to think, she fell onto the bed. The soft spread nestled against her, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the comfort. As she relaxed, a smile creased her face.

The room smelled of sunshine. She tried to push the thought aside. After all, what does warmth and light and comfort smell like, anyway? Even though it would never stand up in court, she knew sunshine smelled just like this room. Her mind created scenes of living in the sunshine.

Perhaps moving would turn out to be the best thing. Leave behind the triggers of memories that haunted her. Not that Craig or Susan would ever be far from her mind, but she had to learn to live in a way that their lives were part of her, but didn't control her.

With renewed energy, she climbed from the bed. It took less than five minutes to unpack clothing and distribute the few possessions which included putting her Bible on the nightstand and her toothbrush in the bathroom. She picked up the Bible. The traditional black cover and gilded pages already showed signs of wear. Pressing the book to her heart, she closed her eyes.
Thank You, God. Thank You for this sanctuary and for what is to come.

By pushing the empty suitcase under the bed, she planted her first roots in Darlington. No one but God could have brought her to this place. The doubt crept around her skull, but she refused it's admittance to her mind. Tired, but ready for her new life to begin, she changed out of her travel-weary clothes into a fresh pair of jeans and a sweater, washed her face, and headed back downstairs.

~*~

Gospel music from the square created eddies of sound within the silence that had settled on the porch. Nature seemed to be waiting, holding its breath, as night descended on the town.

Ted continued to scan the street, the weary sound of his sigh melting with the restless breath of the trees.

Roger and Ted were so different. He thought about his life, not so much the growing-up years, even though they had held their challenges, but more the adult years, the years after he had married Carla.

Ted would never have adjusted to Carla's family, but then, few men would. To be honest, in spite of the success, he felt little pride over his past. But all of the reasons for those decisions were gone, and with the elimination of Lillian, he would be free.

Perhaps it was the twilight that caused him to be melancholic as his mind continued to wander. What if fate had switched him and Ted at birth? Would Ted still be a man of faith, or would life have forged bitterness? Maybe in his next life he would be the good Christian man. He chuckled inwardly. Not much chance of that.

Ted poured a glass of iced tea and drained the contents, continually staring at the darkening street.

A car drove by, headlights on.

Silence continued.

He glanced at the front door. Would she come down, or was he waiting on the porch for nothing? A breeze, trapped in the branches, shifted the leaves on the oak tree. Their rustle sounded like the water in his shower. A single bee, late in heading home for the night and not deterred by the overhead fans, buzzed toward the cookies.

Ted absently swatted at the pest, and it flew off, perhaps hunting for an easier meal.

The music changed from Gospel to country.

“We need to watch her,” Bill murmured.

“Who?” Ted asked, still focusing on the road.

“Ms. Hunter.”

“Did I hear my name?”

By instinct, he balled his hands into fists as he reverted back to the basic stage of survival. His primal mind prodded him to leap from the swing and grip her throat. Not here. Not now. The air thickened and he glanced at Bill, but the big man was staring at Lillian.

If Bill noticed the change, he gave nothing away.

Ted pointed to the vacant wicker chair. “Do you want some sweet tea?”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

“He has cookies, too,” Bill stated. “Oatmeal raisin. That's all we get anymore.”

Ted handed the plate of cookies to Lillian. “They're my wife's favorite right now.

The jeans and soft gray sweater complemented her coloring. Almost mesmerized, Roger reminded himself that her softness and vulnerability were illusions. Scenarios he had planned for the next few days spun through his head like a flip chart, each on its own page.

“So what brings you to Darlington?” Bill questioned.

Roger tensed. Could she share anything that would feed Bill's curiosity? “Give the lady some space.”

“What?” Bill raised his eyebrows. “Ted and Trina came for a visit and never left. I'm here because of them. You came for a job. I just wondered what drew her here.”

“A position became available at Frances Marion University,” Lillian explained, “and I needed a place to stay until I decided where I wanted to live.” She took a sip of tea. “A packet of marketing material about Darlington came in the mail, and it included a flyer advertising this bed and breakfast. It sounded homey and wasn't that far from the university.” Sadness pulled at her face. “I guess I'm not ready to give up hearth and home for a sterile hotel.”

“You got one of our flyers?” Ted's eyebrows lifted. “Who sent it?”

Roger ran his fingers down his beard. “I think the county sends them out now and then. I got one at the office. I'm surprised you didn't get one, Ted.”

Bill's eyes narrowed as he turned to Roger. “So why did Miss Hunter get one?”

“The county buys mailing lists of professionals from the different states. Most likely all the lawyers in Ohio got one.” He had happened on this information by accident when the county commissioners requested he solicit properties from absentee homeowners.

Bill's eyes seemed to penetrate through Roger's skull.

Roger breathed easier when the man turned to Lillian.

“So what did you do in Cleveland?”

“I was an attorney.”

“So you're doing legal work for the university?”

“No, I thought I'd try my hand at academics.” Her eyes remained fixed on Bill. “One of the faculty members resigned in the middle of the semester and Francis Marion needed someone to finish the courses and continue to teach political science.”

Conversation died, and the night sounds, like white noise, lulled them into a relaxed stupor, or so it seemed.

Without an outlet for the adrenalin still zipping through his veins, Roger's attention bounced like a rubber ball out of control.

The squirrels were gone, probably in their nests for the night. Barely visible in the deepening dusk, an elderly couple, hand in hand, strolled down the sidewalk, their feet making soft patting sounds on the concrete.

The swing, dare he plant his feet and stop the nausea that was welling up inside him?

Two golf carts rolled by, carrying what looked like families, their voices and laughter cutting the silence as efficiently as the headlights split the darkness.

He rolled his shoulders, hoping to reduce the tension that had settled across his back. He needed to relax and trust his preparation, the long months of selecting and choosing and rejecting and molding, until all the pieces fit just like the thousand-piece jigsaw puzzles Trina always had in process at their Friday night get-togethers. What if he failed? His mouth tightened. Failure would mean death.

“I noticed when I drove through town that there are still roses blooming,” Lillian murmured from across the porch, her image fuzzy in the fading light.

Ted chuckled. “That's part of the culture shock when you move from the north to the south. There's something growing year-round. Wait until you go to the grocery store; you'll really know you're in the south when you get to the meat section and see pig snouts and chicken feet.”

A faint smile creased her face as she took another sip of tea.

“You see anything interesting on the way down?” Roger asked, trying to avoid any further discussion of her reason for coming south.

“That's a stupid question,” Bill said.

“Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“There's nothing wrong with the mood. What's up with you, anyway? You're as jittery as an old lady.”

A red SUV pulled into the drive.

“Trina's home!” Ted jumped from his chair as the car disappeared behind the house. “Trina does a much better job of making guests feel at home.”

“If I were any more comfortable,” Lillian said, her head resting against the cushion, “I would fall asleep right here.”

As footsteps approached from inside the house, Ted opened the front door.

“Why are you guys sitting in the dark?” The overhead light snapped on and Trina waddled onto the porch.

Lillian gasped. Her ivory face turning ashen as her eyes widened.

He tightened his grip on the swing. Why had he not anticipated this? His partner should have known. Were months of work ruined?

“I'm sorry,” Lillian mumbled as she made a wide circle around Trina and stumbled into the house. The sound of her footsteps ran up the stairs, followed by the bang of a door.