American Quest (26 page)

Bedelia broke the silence by patting Bruce on the leg and asking, “What’s Gloria like?”

Bruce looked away.

Jamie knew what he was thinking—what he’d been thinking every time he thought about Gloria since the quest began. She decided to answer the question for him. “She’s smart and really strong. When she’s hot on something, she goes after it down to the miniscule detail. Like when she threw the surprise party for Bruce’s birthday.”

She grinned at Bruce. “She was like a maestro. Had the apartment decked out, all the food, and a plan that got Bruce out of the house, got all of his friends there, and got him back for the big surprise without his suspecting a thing. She thought of everything.”

Bruce nodded, his expression warm. “She’s that way with everything. You should see her at work.”

Bedelia smiled. “What does she look like?”

“She’s . . . wait, you tell me. What did the Gloria in your dream look like?”

“In my dream, Gloria was a real beauty. Not like my sister ever was, bless her heart, though in her day she was pretty in a different way. In the dream, she was Spanish-looking with long, wavy black hair. Big brown eyes with thick lashes. Wide smile.”

Bruce raised an eye to Jamie and then punched the buttons on his cell phone. He handed it over to Bedelia. “Sounds like my Gloria. Take a look.”

Bedelia rummaged in her pocket for her glasses and then peered at
the image on the tiny screen. She nodded, then looked with wide eyes over the rims at Bruce and Jamie. “Exactly.”

She returned the phone and then pointed at the two of them. “You know, I was surprised to hear about your fiancée when I first met you. I thought for sure you two were together.”

“We are,” Jamie said, “just not that way. We’re practically brother and sister. Oh, we tried on the idea of getting together when we were still in school, but it felt way too weird.”

Bruce nodded. “Yeah.
Way
too weird.” He flicked his eyes over to her. “No offense, Tink. You know I love you like crazy, right?”

Jamie smiled warmly.

A car approached and they all turned to see if Forte and Shannon were inside. No such luck. But as it whizzed by, a bit of paper swirled up and landed in Bedelia’s lap.

She picked it up and held it out to Jamie and Bruce. “Hey, look at this napkin. ‘Sal’s Place: Best eats in three states!’ Ha, I could use the best eats in three states right about now. Blue Ash, Ohio, it says.”

Bruce lifted his chin at the road. “Well, it’s either a sign or just some cheesy advertising. It looks like it’s time to find out.”

A white truck loomed and slowed when it neared the van. Grinning from the passenger seats were Forte and Shannon.

Gloria didn’t peruse the library today. Instead, she spent most of the day curled up, temples aching and heartsick, unable to concentrate on even the lightest reading. She’d hoped Sileny would stop by for her regular housekeeping routine, but she didn’t.

She stood and walked to the shower. She stayed under the spray a long time, tended to her hair and face, then decided to explore the enormous walk-in closet for something to wear. Until now, she had
buried herself under loose, oversized clothing though she could have had her pick of any of the stylish garments draped on satin-padded hangers. She’d denied herself wearing them as if her defiance gave her some scrap of power.

But now that seemed silly. Regardless of whether she wore loose cotton or tailored pinstripes, the clothes still did not feel as though they belonged to her. And unless she intended to wear the same thing day after day, she might as well make peace with it.

She entered the closet, switched on the light, and brand-new garments spaced at precise intervals of three inches lined up before her. Labels from the most elite designers; cuts that decorated a woman’s body with the perfect balance of flattery and edge. Sewing that was deliberate, not mass-produced like her other clothes, and luscious fabrics with natural fibers, the odd synthetic appearing only sparsely in blends. She could never afford to wear these things in her normal existence.

Still, Gloria chose with restraint.

She selected a simple, mid-length black shift that angled in a classic line from nape to knee. It exposed skin below the neck, though without cleavage, and it fit her perfectly. She slipped on a pair of strappy heels and regarded herself in the mirror.

Her very being seemed to lift at the prospect of dressing not for a job, a man, or even friends, but just for simple indulgence.

She returned to the closet and tried on another. Royal hues of plum enriched with scrolling emerald patterns.

And another. A business suit: plush but sharp-edged. She imagined herself meeting with investors in this. She could garner endless partnerships and support for Woven Hillside. She remembered how Bruce had described her a few days ago—had it been a week now?—saying she looked like she was about to lead a marching band. Now she saw it.

One more. What else did she have to do? An evening gown. Sumptuous and flowing, caressing her skin, revealing the occasional shock of her figure and yet still coming off refined. Even regal.

From the rooms beyond came the scent of lavender—she could swear it was that—being rendered over intense heat.

Vance.

She folded her arms over the gorgeous dress.

She would say hello. Had to say hello. Regardless of how she decided to proceed with him, it made sense to maintain contact. It was better to cultivate his charming side. She hoped never again to feel the intensity of that first day, when they’d had lunch and he’d taken her away. The darkness in his eyes still caused gooseflesh to rise on her arms. She would make contact tonight, however brief.

But not in this. She changed back into the first outfit, the simple black dress.

She strode into the kitchen. “What is the lavender going into?”

“Dumplings,” he said as he glanced at her, then paused and turned slowly to regard her fully. So intense was his gaze that she had to look away. Perhaps the black dress was not conservative enough after all.

He cleared his throat. “I’m, er, making some dumplings for an artichoke ragout. Forgive me for saying this, but you look spectacular.”

No, she wouldn’t forgive him saying it.

She turned and strode back to her room where she found a long, easy sweater. She draped it over the black dress and returned to the kitchen.

“Did you catch a chill?” he said with what sounded like disappointment.

She shrugged.

“Remind me to have the air conditioning ripped out.”

Unbidden, a smile threatened her lips.

The summery perfume of lavender disappeared and an acrid smoke pinched her nose. Vance turned suddenly and pulled a pan from the stove, but the artichoke hearts were now blackened.

He sighed and switched the vent hood on, then turned to her. “No matter. We’ll go out.”

Go out
? Gloria’s heart pounded.

“Aren’t you worried someone might recognize me?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She hadn’t intended to accept another meal in his company, but under the circumstances, it seemed prudent to accompany him.

“All right, then,” she said carefully.

Vance took her by the elbow and led her to the front door—a door that did not exist moments ago—and they stepped through it to the elevator.

And then, simply, fabulously, they were outside.

A light evening in summer, the sun seemed reluctant to forfeit the day and it stretched its farthest reach into the park. They strolled through it and Gloria felt absurdly casual.

She could make a break for it. Could simply run. If not here, then at the restaurant.

But somehow, Gloria knew better. If Aaron Vance could make doors disappear and reappear—or an entire restaurant for that matter—he likely had a way of keeping her on some unseen leash. Perhaps he even meant to test her. She did not really believe the burned artichoke hearts were accidental.

For now, she would go along and see what happened.

FORTE SAT ON TOP OF THE PICNIC TABLE strumming a languid ballad on his guitar as the sun began to sink over the park. He paused from time to time, jotting notes on paper, then returning to his strumming. Jamie and Bruce both rested their heads on their hands, and Bedelia gazed at the children playing on the swings.

Bruce tried to force the image of Gloria and Enervata out of his head. He wondered what this Macul might look like. Scaly skin and pointed teeth? Jamie said he could probably change his appearance and that he might have turned himself into a hunky-looking man that he thought Gloria might find attractive. Could Gloria possible find anyone attractive under those circumstances?

Bruce felt the urge to drop and knock out some push-ups. Sitting in the van all day was making his heart restless and his muscles stiff.

Shannon waved at Sal’s Place with a wrapped peppermint candy she’d scored on the way out. “I don’t know if I’d call that the best eats in three states. Best eats in three
streets
, maybe.”

Bedelia patted her. “You never did get your chili dog, did you, dear?”

Shannon shrugged. “Maybe the next place will have ’em. Honestly, I was so hungry I could have tackled one of Jamie’s giant mosquitoes and slathered some butter on it.”

“Goodness!” Bedelia blanched. “But you hadn’t eaten in so long. I still can’t believe it took us five hours to get here! It should have taken
one. But all those roadblocks, and the traffic . . . I don’t know how you held on until we got to the restaurant. I had to dig into some of those chips in the van. But Jamie barely ate anything. Didn’t even touch her ham and cheese from Sal’s!”

Jamie poked the white paper bag. “I’ll eat it later. With all the excitement my stomach’s kind of in knots.”

A little boy began to cry on the playground and they all turned to look.

Bedelia frowned. “Look at that baby standing there all alone. He looks no more than three years old.”

The boy’s sobs escalated and he called for his mother. Jamie and Bruce rose from the picnic table.

“Better check it out,” Bruce said, and he and Jamie started for the playground.

But as they approached, a ten-year-old girl in a ponytail galloped over to the little boy and put her arm around his shoulders, kneeling down next to him. He balled a fist in his eyes and, as she spoke to him, he nodded.

Jamie and Bruce turned back. A landscaped cluster of miniature rose bushes bloomed in a circle of red and green. In the center of them, a lone sunflower stretched for the sky. Bruce paused, thinking of the golden sapling growing within the ring of red maples. And Shannon’s T-shirt the night they met her—red with a yellow heart in the center. He frowned and scanned the park.

Jamie tossed the white bag with the ham and cheese sandwich into the trash can.

“You’re not going to eat it?” Bruce said.

Jamie sighed. “Given the tango going on in my stomach right now? I don’t think I can hold it.”

Bruce knew that, given Jamie’s recent blood loss, she’d do well to have a decent meal. But he didn’t push it. Jamie knew what she could handle.

They strode back to the others. Jamie waved toward the little girl leading the younger boy away as she and Bruce settled back at the picnic table. “Looks like his sister showed up.”

Forte switched to a slow blues tune. “I think one of my cancelled gigs would have been around here somewhere. It was near Cincinnati.
What’s the name of this town again?”

“Blue Ash,” Jamie replied.

Bedelia scratched her chin. “It just seems wrong, us sitting here like this. Shouldn’t we be moving? Maybe we were supposed to go somewhere else?”

“Between the berry stains on the map and that napkin that landed on Bedelia from nowhere, this is the only thing that makes sense,” Jamie said. “We could get back on the road, but where would we go?”

Bruce’s stomach rolled. Jamie was right, but the frustration was wearing on him. He felt as though they’d managed to gather troops but got lost on the way to the battlefield. What was the point of all of this? And where were those damned pillars, anyway?

Bedelia shook her head. “I keep wondering why I’m here. I’m not sure how I can help you kids bring Bruce’s Gloria home.”

Jamie looked at her. “You already helped with that swarm of insects. You’re here for a reason, Bedelia. All of us are. And it’s not just a matter of getting Gloria back. If Enervata succeeds, our lives change forever. Everyone on Earth. We’re his slaves.”

“He’s not going to succeed,” Bruce said dully.

Bedelia shook her head. “It’s just a lot for me to try to understand.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at the park. Resting against the trunk of a spreading blue ash tree sat the little girl with the ponytail. There was no sign of the little boy or a mother or father. He excused himself and rose, walking over to the tree.