Sleep No More (20 page)

"I thought we were getting your car," she said.

He looked over at her. Her posture had stiffened as she looked longingly at the right turn he hadn't made. "We're going to be together until after we get back from Savannah, so there's no need. We'll get it tomorrow."

"You told your kids you'd pick it up."

"Yes, I did. I'll let them know I'll be getting it tomorrow when I call Brenna at bedtime."

"But..."

"You're too exhausted to drive."

"But..."

"Why, Abby, I'm beginning to think you were planning on giving me the slip once you had me out of this car."

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "As if you couldn't figure out where I'd be."

"Ah, but you were thinking about it. Admit it."

She jerked her head so she faced the passenger window.

"You know I'm right. Staying with me is the only logical solution for now. Home's not safe. You don't want to upset your dad. I'm it."

She kept herself turned away from him. "I think you're enjoying this macho bossy bullshit."

He grinned. "How am I doing at it?"

She huffed. A moment later she mumbled, "You really can't hold me against my will."

"Hey, it's only for twenty-four hours, most of which you'll be asleep. You'll hardly notice." He paused. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll turn myself in to the police as soon as we get back from Savannah."

"Ha-ha."

After a bit, he said, "Seriously, Abby. This is the only solution I can think of for now. If you'd like, you can stay at your house and I'll keep watch outside."

She finally looked at him. "You'd do that, wouldn't you?"

He nodded. "Whatever it takes to keep you safe and let you get some sleep."

She groaned and leaned her head back against the seat. "All right. I'll stay at your house. Just for tonight."

The sun had set but light still clung to the day when Jason turned into Abby's lane.

The change in speed and direction roused her from a doze. She exhaled loudly. "Oh. We're here."

"We are." When he'd seen her head bob a few minutes ago, he'd almost decided to just keep driving as long as she slept. But she needed real sleep, not cat naps--or car naps.

"Can you stop at the shop first?" she asked. "I need to check my messages."

He stopped the Explorer in front of the carriage house. "Hold on a minute. It's getting kind of late. I want to call Brenna." He pulled out his cell phone and made the call.

Abby stepped outside the car and leaned against the fender.

Lucy answered.

"It's me," Jason said. "I need to talk to Bryce before I tell Bren good night."

"He's out." She put down the phone with a clatter. He heard her calling Brenna to the phone.

"Daddy! Bryce made me spaghetti and Cheez Whiz and Oreos for dinner."

Jason shuddered. "Did Mommy have some too?"

"She wasn't home yet."

"I see. But she got home before Bryce left, right?"

"Yeah. He was mad because she was late. He called her a bunch of times."

"Can you tell Bryce something for me?"

"Sure."

"I won't be picking up my car until tomorrow morning."

" 'K."

"Sleep tight, Peanut."

"Don't bite the bedbugs." She giggled.

She'd gotten the phrase turned around as a toddler. Now it was their little joke. "Can I talk to Mommy again?"

"Mommmeeeee. Bye, Daddy."

"What?" Lucy said.

"You weren't home when it was time for Brenna to be dropped off."

"And
you
didn't drop her off," she said sharply.

"Did something come up? You should have called me and I would have kept her."

"She was with Bryce. And it's none of your business why I wasn't here."

He came straight out and asked, "You're sober?"

"Jesus, Jason! I have a life. Just because I'm not home doesn't mean I'm out drinking!"

He really didn't have a leg to stand on. He'd sent his daughter on home without confirming she was there. Still, it pissed him off. Spaghetti and Cheez Whiz for dinner.

"Just let me know if you can't be there next time and I'll keep her with me."

He hung up before she said anything else.

When he got out of the Explorer, Abby looked his way. "Everything all right?"

"Fine."

She cast a dubious look his way. When he didn't offer more, she pushed herself away from the car and headed to the shop.

He waited while she unlocked the wood-framed glass door, which was the only mark of the twentieth century he could see on the building. The window next to the door was a nine-over-nine with weathered wood and flaking glazing. The original carriage doors were intact at the end of the structure. They looked like any ten-year-old with the slightest bit of determination could break into them; the deadbolt on the glass door was almost laughable.

Clearly whoever had been on this property in the wee hours of this morning wasn't looking for cash or credit card numbers.

"Are you coming?" Abby's voice broke into his thoughts. She was standing there holding the door open for him.

He stepped inside and looked around the dark interior.

"Wait here so you don't break your neck," she said as she stepped around him.

"Hold on," he said, but she kept going.

She walked across the space with no regard for the deep gloom--or anyone hiding in the shadows--her feet no doubt guided by years of habit.

"Abby. Wait." He took two steps before his shin hit something hard enough to leave a bruise. "Ouch! Son of a..." If this was her idea of caution, he was glad she'd agreed to stay with him.

The lights came on and Jason's tense muscles relaxed.

Abby looked back at him. "You okay?"

Jason looked down. His attacker had been a two-foot-high plaster garden gnome. "Fine."

She went about her business and Jason looked around. Abby's floral arrangements were unlike any he'd ever seen--not that he was an expert, but he'd been to enough funerals to know what the standard was. He was curious about the space that fueled her creativity.

The place smelled of old timber and eucalyptus. The entire area was open. A counter and cash register sat near the far wall.

There was a large walk-in refrigerator beyond a wide worktable. Bits of greenery littered the top of the table and the floor beneath. There was a rod sticking up at one side of the table filled with spools of colored ribbon aligned like the colors of the rainbow. Nearer the door, where he was standing, various pottery, glass vases, and garden ornaments were neatly displayed.

The building had a wood plank floor, old enough that wide cracks had grown between them and deep sloping grooves had been worn in the traffic paths. The exposed beams supporting the roof had clearly been hand hewn.

Realizing this building's age, he understood the incredible loss Abby felt over the destruction of the main house. Constance had said the Whitmans never planned to rebuild on the site; what was gone was irreplaceable. But Jason wondered if Abby's father had chosen to move to town in order to lighten the load of his daughter's sense of guilt. As for her move back here... God knows the woman could wear a man down with her arguments.

He looked at her behind the counter, getting a pen and paper to write down her messages. Her dark hair swept past her shoulder and hid her face. She seemed so slight, and showed incredible emotional and moral strength. But she had to find a way to forgive herself, or she would never find true peace. He wanted to help her achieve that. Then maybe she would allow herself to live a full life that included living with someone she loved.

She pushed the button on the answering machine. Just as the voice began speaking, Jason realized he should never have let her come in here. Why hadn't he been thinking?

"This is Kathy Richardson. I'd like to order flowers for Kyle Robard's funeral. Randall and Roberts Funeral Ho--"

Jason hurried around the counter and hit the "stop" button.

Abby was sucking in huge gulps of air. The pen had fallen from her shaking hand.

She pushed him away and swiped a vase off the counter. The explosion of broken glass was like a gunshot in the room. She pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead and paced across the glass, grinding and popping it into smaller pieces.

"Abby! Stop!"

She was shaking her head in agitation, still moving across the bed of broken glass.

"Abby!" He reached out and grabbed her arm, stepping into the glass himself. "Stop. The glass."

He pulled her away from the area of the floor covered by the shattered vase.

She allowed him to lead her only so far, then removed her arm from his grasp and put some space between them. All of her angry energy turned inward. Her face took on a stony calm, her eyes focused somewhere other than in the reality of this moment.

She faced the window, her arms wrapped around her middle. Her shoulders rose and fell with her breathing. This silent withdrawal was more unsettling than any tears he'd seen her shed; he wanted her to let him in, not retreat further.

He chanced resting a hand on her shoulder blade.

When she didn't pull away, he ventured further and gently turned her toward him. Her gaze moved from the window to the floor.

"Abby, look at me."

She swallowed roughly and raised her eyes to meet his.

There were no words that could take away the pain that reached from her eyes deep into her soul. So he pulled her against his chest with one arm and pressed her head into the crook of his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he murmured.

Her body trembled slightly and her arms wrapped around his waist. She remained eerily silent.

He held her more tightly and stroked her hair. "So sorry, baby."

After a minute or so, and much too soon for Jason, she took a deep breath and leaned away from him.

"I'm okay now." She patted his chest. "I'm all right."

He framed her face with his hands and looked into those wounded eyes. He felt himself moving before he had time to censor his actions. She held perfectly still... until his lips touched hers. Then her hands clutched his shirtfront, pulling him closer.

He tasted the salt of her tears and his heart broke just a little.

She kissed him back, her mouth soft and yielding beneath his.

He could feel the flutter of her pulse where the heel of his hand rested on the side of her neck. He couldn't help but hope he was the reason for its accelerated rhythm.

One kiss blended tenderly into another. His body awakened and he realized how long it had been since he'd held a woman. He wished this moment would last, neither going forward nor back, so he could linger in the possibilities.

When she pulled away, she lowered her gaze and bit her lower lip.

He smoothed her hair away from her face, hooking it behind her ear. Then he slipped a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up. Even in her current state of exhaustion, she was lovely beyond words.

She looked at him steadily, her seeming shyness disappearing. "I know I've sounded like an ungrateful snot. I'm sorry," she said. "Thank you for being here; for helping me."

He smiled and felt as if he'd crossed a bridge she didn't allow many people to find, let alone cross. It was safest to let her get used to this new intimacy one quiet step at a time. He simply said, "You're welcome."

She reached up and caressed his cheek. Then she let her hand fall away and looked at the glass on the floor. "I'd better get the broom."

"Abby," he said and she stopped. "Do you want me to listen to the messages for you? I can call all of them back and tell them they need to order from somewhere else."

She rolled her lips inward and bit them. He wondered if she could still taste him as he tasted her salt and sadness.

After a second, she said, "No. The viewing won't be until Tuesday and the service Wednesday. Let me think about it until tomorrow morning."

"Good idea." He watched her walk away, marveling at her strength. He glanced at the machine. There were twenty-four messages. She was going to need every bit of that strength.

Once they had the glass cleaned up, she locked the shop and they drove the Explorer a hundred yards to her cottage.

The front door was draped in the deep shadow of evening and the giant magnolia that stood nearby. That was why he didn't notice the door was ajar until the weak high-pitched tone reached his ears.

Abby halted, hearing it, too.

He quickly pulled her back and stepped in front of her. "Was this locked?"

"Yes."

"The alarm is battery powered?"

"Yes."

The tone was weak and faltering. Clearly running out of juice.

"Go back and get in the car," he said. "Lock the doors."