The Way You Make Me Feel (15 page)

Stevie laughed. “You got it. And you, Ron? You don't eat enough. You're skin and bones and you look like you're losing.”

Ron shook his head. “It sounds wonderful, but I ate a heavy late lunch. If I'd just known, I'd have saved room. Stevie, I came by to look at one of your Zemaitis guitars, strum it a bit. A man from London who's here for a while has one for sale and he says it's a bargain. I want to check yours out. I played it, I know, but I was stoned and my memory's not so hot.”

“Sure.” Stevie went to the music room and worked the combination lock, beckoned Ron. “I'll leave you in here or you can bring it outside.”

“I'll stay in here. Thanks, Stevie.” His crooked smile was ingratiating. Why couldn't he find himself? she wondered.

Back with Zeb, Stevie smiled at his shock of fire-red hair and his snow-white skin. A small man, Zeb had cobalt-blue eyes that twinkled as he talked. His grandparents had emigrated from Russia when he was a baby. He called his clients his family and he did all that heaven allowed to push them to the top. Stevie Simms was one of his most beloved success stories.

“How's the new song you told me about coming?” Zeb asked.

“I finished it. It's beautiful, Zeb. Sometimes the music doesn't come in with the words. This time it did. I think it's going to be one of my best.”

“What's the title again, ‘The Way You Make Me Feel'?”

“You've got it. I'll want to sing it for you, complete with guitar, before I introduce it in Atlanta.”

“I'll surely look forward to it.”

They talked about the music industry and listened to the country song that Ron was playing in the music room.

“That's a pretty tune he's playing,” Zeb said. “What is it?”

Stevie shook her head. “Not one I recognize and I know most of them. Ron writes country music. That might be one of his.”

“What a waste. Think he'll ever find himself?”

“I keep hoping and trying to help.”

After a while, Zeb sat bolt upright. “Where has the time gone? I've got to get going, but I'll be coming back through this time next month and I haven't mentioned it because I didn't want to upset you, but how's the memory coming? And will you still have to testify in October?”

“My memory's coming along nicely,” Stevie said. “And with that, I will have to testify. We're hoping it's all there by October. I remember enough. If there's a hitch and things stop coming through, I may get scratched, but we don't think there's much possibility of that.”

Zeb ran a hand over his brow and looked sad. “Lord, I'll never forget how Jake pushed you around. You stood it a long time until he got really brutal, then you got the spunk to leave.”

“You helped a lot, talking to me. You and Damien.”

“I'm glad. You're a prize. I've always thought it, and don't you ever forget. Any progress on who killed Bretta?” He had known Bretta well.

“No, not yet. I never stop thinking of ways to help.”

“Don't expose yourself to danger. I remember Keith Muncy, too. What's he up to?”

“He's out of prison and up to nothing good.” Keith's malevolent face rose before her as if he were there.

“Is Damien around? I'd like to say hello to him.”

“No, he's been saddled with me since I've had amnesia, but he had to go in this afternoon. You might want to stick around. He didn't expect to be gone too long.”

“I wish I could, but I have to run…”

“Then I'll get the cobbler for you. Would you like whipped cream?”

“You're looking at this skinny frame and you're asking? Sure thing.”

Stevie left to get the dessert and Zeb leaned back enjoying the music that Ron played so beautifully.

 

It was late when Damien returned. He caught her close and buried his face in her hair. “I missed being with you all day. I could get ruined and want to do that all the time.”

“You've been with me all day most days since I stumbled back into your life.”

“Happy days. I didn't eat much. Bring on the crab cakes.”

“And don't forget the peach cobbler.”

“You take such good care of me.”

She told him about Zeb and Ron's visit as they ate. “Zeb's about as famous as his clients,” he said. “He's a beautiful guy. And this is a beautiful dinner.” He praised Mrs. Patton's cooking as she blushed, sitting at the table with them.

“Hey, I did the salad,” Stevie pointed out. “All your favorites. Don't I get some credit?”

“You get kisses,” he teased her. “A long one that doesn't end until midnight.”

But she didn't tell him about seeing Keith Muncy until after Mrs. Patton had left and they sat on the sofa in the living room.

He drew a deep breath. “Maybe you ought to go out only with me.”

“No,” she said vehemently. “I'm not going to be closeted like that. My life is my own, Damien, and I'm going to keep it that way.”

He closed his eyes remembering the way she'd clung to him when she'd first been hurt. He admired the feisty woman she'd always been and was returning to being, but he missed the Stevie who was one of his ribs when she'd needed him so.

“Okay,” he said now. “You just be damned careful.”

The detective from the robbery squad and Detective Rollins came around five. This was to be their last call of the day.

They listened quietly as they talked with Damien and Stevie and they could see Detective Rollins's brain working behind his eyes.

“Expensive jewelry?” the robbery-squad detective asked.

“I'm afraid a few pieces were,” Stevie answered. “I was to put them in my safety deposit shortly. I just thought I had a foolproof security system.”

The robbery-squad detective grunted. “A lot of people think that.”

Damien went with the other detective to examine the door that had been jimmied, to check the security system and the closet that the case had been stolen from.

Downstairs with Stevie, Detective Rollins asked about the fax that Stevie had called him about. Going to a table, she removed the sheet of paper from a drawer and brought it to him. He looked it over carefully.

“I'll need this, of course. There's a telephone number of origin on here. That's a Queens, New York, number. I'll get my wife who, as you know, was a deputy sheriff, to check on it. People know these days how short-handed we are.”

“Any news yet—” she began and a lump lodged in her throat.

“About Bretta,” he finished for her. “No, not yet. Our forty-eight hours is long gone.” He shook his head. “I was so engrossed in this, I couldn't see the forest for the trees. You're wearing a wedding ring. Congratulations!”

“Oh, thank you. That's why we were on Diamond Point.”

He nodded. “I've been to Aruba and to Diamond Point many times. My wife's crazy about both places. About Bretta. This robbery case may bring us a breakthrough. It might be a random case, maybe Muncy or a henchman of McGowan's. We just don't know. But we do know someone may try to pawn the jewels. We'll put out a country-wide bulletin and if they try anything, they're ours. Most pawnshop operators cooperate with the law.”

“We're planning on flying up to Maryland day after tomorrow. Does the robbery interfere? We'll only be away a couple of days.”

Detective Rollins thought a minute. “I don't think so. Just be sure to give Detective Giles a list of people who have access to your house and whoever you think might be guilty. Have a good trip.”

“Thank you.”

He looked a little bit uncomfortable, then, before he rose to leave said, “Ah, did you know my wife writes country music?”

Stevie's face lit up. “She does? Does she show what she writes?”

The detective laughed. “Hell, she'd love it if you looked at some of her stuff.”

“Anytime. No need to make an appointment. Just drop by. I work mornings, but I'm here the rest of the day.”

“Boy, she'll be cloudwalking.”

Damien and Detective Giles came back, took the list of names and left.

“Why don't you and I go upstairs?” Damien asked. “We've got a lot of unfinished business.”

“I've got a feeling we're never going to finish our business.” Stevie tweaked his nose as they sat on the sofa again. The missing case and Keith Muncy were very much on her mind, but her marriage was uppermost and she still hungered for the passion she and Damien had begun to share. She leaned into him and kissed his face, ran her tongue over his eyes and cheeks.

“You, ah, really come on strong, lover,” he told her huskily. “Ask for anything I've got and it's yours.”

With a touch of sadness then, she thought about what she wanted most of all and he couldn't give her yet. But one day—one day.

 

He had long ago become anxious. Gossip had it that Stevie had gotten much of her memory back, but there were things she still couldn't remember. Lord, he was glad he had ways of finding out all about Stevie. The rage to kill had become a permanent itch in his mind. He smiled grimly. Didn't they say a rat fought to kill when cornered?

Damn! Stevie's house. They moved about too much. The killing should have been done long ago. He refused to think about time running out. He encountered Stevie as much as he could, looking for clues that she'd finally remembered. Someone had told him that there was a block of time she couldn't remember and he'd correctly guessed it was about the night Bretta was killed.

He had to act soon, but when? He racked his brain setting up schemes. One of them
had
to work. And he had to be calm. He would never have guessed that killing was such an ornery business. He only knew it was very necessary.

I
t was nearing midnight when Damien and Stevie got a cab from BWI Airport to Minden and his family. The house was ablaze with lights as they drove up. Damien felt as if he were climbing to the sky and he tipped the driver with a lavish hand. The man laughed and thanked him heartily. “Looks like they're expecting you and happy about it,” he said.

They had called from the airport and Mel and Rispa rushed out to greet them. Damien caught his mother to him in a tight hug, then his father.

“And this is Stevie,” Rispa said with tears in her eyes. “Oh, my dear, the greatest welcome we can offer.” She hugged Stevie and held her for a few minutes. “I can't tell you how happy we are.”

Mel hugged Stevie and held her away from him. “Well, of course, we got the photos and the video,” he said, “but there's nothing like reality.” Then to Stevie, “No words can express our happiness at your marriage. And a country star yet. We listen to you, Stevie, and we've always admired you. Might have known when Damien did decide to marry, he'd get someone who reminded him of family.”

Damien laughed. “I'm not sure I was thinking about family. This woman just swept me off my feet.”

“Oh sure,” Rispa twitted. “My son, the once-was Romeo.”

“But not anymore, Mom. Not anymore.”

Driving up, Stevie had been so impressed by the big stone house with trim painted in immaculate white and by the superb grounds. Inside she admired the big rooms and the archways between them, the homey decor and the spacious grace.

“You have a beautiful home,” Stevie said. “And you're wonderful people. I can see now where Damien is coming from.”

Mel nodded. “The boy has always been blessed. He's made his mark in this world. Oh, we worried a lot about him, single and playing the field. I used to tell him, ‘Try for everything and every woman and you'll wind up with nothing and no woman.' I guess he finally listened.”

The warmth and admiration among the group was palpable. Then Mel cleared his throat. “Boy, we've got a surprise for you that's going to get to you.”

Damien grinned. “You and Mom were always full of surprises. What is it? And where is it?”

Mel called out, “Come forth! Come forth!”

“What the…” Damien began. They all looked up as his twin, Dosha, and her husband, Christian, descended the spiral staircase. Damien moved swiftly to his sister and caught her fiercely to him. They rocked and held each other, tears in their eyes. Then he tore himself away and hugged Christian.

“We couldn't let you get married and not see you,” Dosha said. “We're only here for a few days.” They lived part of the year in Puerto de la Cruz, Tenerife, Spain, and part of the year in D.C.

Dosha went to Stevie and took her hand. “And this is Stevie, your beloved wife. Oh, Damien, she's lovely and you two make a great couple.” Dosha and Stevie hugged, then Dosha introduced Christian and they hugged.

Dosha laughed. “You've got a niece upstairs sleeping her head off. Magdalena Rispa Socorro. We call her Missus for M.R.S., her initials. A married title from birth.”

“You know I call her Maggie,” Damien said.

“You have to be different,” Dosha twitted him.

Mel cleared his throat. “Well, we went ahead and ate because it was getting late and your plane was held over, but we've saved you plenty. Roy and Sarah stayed to see you. I think you were always their favorite, quiet as they kept it.”

They went out to the kitchen and greeted the couple who worked for Mel and Rispa with hugs all around. Sarah wept a little. “I'm so happy for you,” she told them. “Will you be staying long?”

“Yes,” Rispa repeated. “
Will
you?”

Damien shook his head. “No, Mom, we won't. I've got a singer in trouble and I need to be around him. I've just snatched time off to do personal things I had to
do
like getting married and coming here, so we'll just be staying two days. And we were starved and had to get dinner in an airport restaurant. I know this is sautéed oyster and crab night and it kills me, but we're full. I'll have mine for breakfast.”

“We understand,” Sarah said. “I'll make sure you get some. I guess we'll go now, Mrs. Steele.”

“Oh, spend the night here, if you'd like,” Rispa said. “Plenty of bedrooms.”

“Thanks, but there's a couple of things I've got hanging at home. I just couldn't wait to see Damien.” Sarah hugged him again and Roy hugged him, too. “Got you two a gift,” Sarah said, “and I'm betting you'll like it. You're wonderful together.”

“Thank you,” Damien said, hugging her again.

Sarah looked at Rispa. “Better tell him about that picnic tomorrow in case they plan to sleep late.”

“Oh, yes,” Rispa said, laughing. “Mel and I thought about the fact that picnics were always your favorite thing, so we're throwing you a
wedding
picnic. At first we started to open it to friends, but then we decided family only. We want you and Stevie all to ourselves. Now, off to bed all of us, and up early. Damien, you and Stevie can sleep late. But we need to be on the beach by ten-thirty tomorrow morning. We'll make a day and part of the night of it. But first, I want to show Stevie around just a bit. Unless you're too tired, dear.”

“Oh no,” Stevie said. “I'm feeling the energy of the sun.”

Damien studied his sister. “I've never seen you look happier. Wifehood and motherhood become you. I can't wait for us to get pregnant.”

“You're so impatient,” Dosha teased him. “Let her get used to you first.”

“Oh, I'm easy to get used to.”

“We've got a lot of talking to do,” Dosha told him. “You're married. I can hardly believe it.”

“I could talk with you the whole time I'm here. I thought about calling Marty and Adam tonight, but I'll wait until I see them tomorrow.”

“Oh, they called earlier and were coming over, but when your flight was delayed, they thought they'd wait until tomorrow. You'll see the kids then, too.”

Damien closed his eyes and gave a mock shudder. “The kids. Lord, Marty and Caitlin's twins. Malinda and Caleb Myles. As long as I live I won't forget their terrible twos.”

Dosha laughed. “You may be going that route yourself since you're a twin.”

Damien pursed his lips. “I wouldn't mind quintuplets.”

Stevie rolled her eyes at him. “You speak for yourself. Don't think you're going to be off playing Mr. Record Mogul while I'm home sweating it out with five little crumb crushers.”

“Oh, I change a mean diaper. I learned with the twins.”

Rispa took Stevie around the house. “I'm just so excited I can't sit still,” Rispa said. “We'll take a brief look around to let you see how it looks at night.”

“It's gorgeous here.”

“We like it. This was Mel's family's much smaller house and we kept adding on. It's over a hundred years old.”

They stood on the back porch that stretched the entire length of the house. The backyard floodlights shone and the swimming pool, the badminton court, the expanse of well-tended lawn and the grove of sycamore trees just beyond the yard seemed at its best. Beds of flowers abounded and a five-acre fish pond was resplendent in the moonlight.

“You must come back and stay a long time with us,” Rispa said.

“I'm sure we will.”

Rispa smiled broadly. “I don't mind telling you when Damien told us he was getting married, I was edgy. Show-business marriages aren't noted for their permanence. I liked what I saw of you from your publicity, but you can never tell.” She paused here. “My dear, I've just met you and I guess it's really too early for confidences, but I don't mind telling you, I wasn't just edgy. I was worried sick. So was Mel. We didn't like a young woman he brought here twice, but she was his choice. Do you know her name?”

“Honi Holmes?”

“Oh yes, the great Ms. Holmes. It didn't help when she dumped him for some wondrous Caribbean prime minister and we thought Damien would go out of his mind. We begged him to come home, but he wouldn't. I think he was too ashamed. We couldn't hide the fact that we didn't particularly like her, but we said nothing. Did you know him then?”

Stevie nodded. “Yes, and one day I'll tell you about it. I think that time of his life indirectly led to us finally getting married. I had just been divorced when I knew him then. We were both in pain.”

“I hope you helped each other.”

“We did.”

Rispa caught Stevie's hand, squeezed. “I'm glad. And I'm glad things turned out this way. And you're married!”

“We're married. I can hardly believe it.”

“Oh, I wish Damien's half brother, Frank, and Whit and Ashley…”

“Both absolutely stunning and famous gospel singers I've long adored.”

“Yes, and Annice, their psychologist sister. I was going to say I wish they could be here.”

Stevie drew a sharp breath. What would Damien's family think about her amnesia and the trouble she was in? This family seemed so serene, so far removed from any hint of trouble.

While Rispa showed Stevie the house and grounds, Damien talked with his father, Dosha and Christian about Stevie's amnesia. She had said she didn't mind his telling them. And Mel would tell Rispa.

“That's so terrible,” Dosha commented. “What a burden. But I'm glad she's so much better.”

“Yeah, so am I. She's really my life now. I want to do everything I can to help her pull all the way through. Then to top it off, her best friend was murdered a short while back.”

Dosha gasped sympathetically. “My God!”

“The cops seem to have hit a dead end, but their solve rate is in the high-eighty percentile.” He stopped then and didn't tell them that Stevie's life had been threatened, too. Somehow it didn't seem to be the time. They would worry too much.

That night in their room, Stevie and Damien settled into each other's arms and their kisses flowed like honey. She felt a warmth and lassitude take her body and she gave herself to him completely. “I'm going to tell you I love you,” she said softly. “It doesn't matter if you can't return my love. I know you care about me and you've got respect and integrity the way I never dreamed I'd get in a man. I'm grateful for that.”

He splayed his hand across her flat belly. “Thank you, Stevie. You know anything I've got to give is yours. As for the integrity, it's the way I was raised, the same way you've got it. We'll make it, honey. I just feel that in my bones.” He pressed her abdomen again. “Baby, I just can't wait.”

 

Next morning at the breakfast of sautéed oysters and crab cakes, grits and golden biscuits, a beaming Rispa and Sarah brought in two lavishly wrapped presents.

“I ordered this as soon as you told me you were married,” Rispa said. “I belong to an international club for exquisite gifts and they sent this express. I'll give you their number and address if you want it, Stevie.”

“Please,” Stevie responded.

The women had set the gifts on the edge of the table. Rispa's was big and Stevie undid it with a small silver knife Sarah brought her. She gasped with delighted surprise as ecru lace of unsurpassed beauty came into view, then she held the tablecloth up for the others to admire.

Mel shook his head. “Real beauty. You've got taste, love.”

Stevie felt tears start and her throat was a little tight. “Thank you so much. This is a gift for a lifetime.”

Rispa nodded. “I meant it to be. It's Irish lace.”

Dosha smiled at her twin fondly. “My present was ordered before we left Puerto. You'll get it within the next week. Very little can compare with Mom and Dad's gift, but Christian and I tried.”

There was an ecru undercloth for the tablecloth in the package and Mel said, “They do think of everything.”

Sarah's gift was smaller, but equally exquisite. A large white jade music box that played “O, Promise Me.”

As the music tinkled, Stevie exclaimed, “Where on earth did you find it?”

“In Georgetown, in D.C.,” Sarah told her. “Roy helped me. Let me tell you our feet were tired when we got through looking. This came from an unbelievable little antique shop. I hope you like it.”

“It's wonderful,” Stevie said. She got up, went around and kissed Rispa and Mel, Sarah and Roy, then Dosha and Christian, explaining to the latter, “This is for the gift to come.”

Sarah took the gifts and placed them on a side table and the meal proceeded as Damien sighed, “This is like old times.”

But he thought it wasn't like old times because Stevie was with him now, and his heart had a glow it had never had before.