Beautiful Stranger (13 page)

M
arissa awakened very early to the sound of a blackbird singing in the trees outside. A soft, cool light poured in the windows, edging the white curtains she'd loved in combination with the dark wood moldings. She was naked beneath the heavy quilt, and it was strange to move her limbs beneath the cloth, feel it against her skin, all of her skin.

She stretched out a hand beneath the covers and put it where Robert had lain last night, thinking of his hair falling around her and candlelight edging that sharp nose. She thought of his kiss, so deep and involving, skilled and artless at once. It made her want to cry.

Instead, she got up and urgently dressed in her work-out clothes, taking only time enough to splash water on her face and pull the mess of her hair out of her face. She was on the sidewalk before six, striding into the still mountain morning. A path from one end of the street led into a meadow, and deciding abruptly, she took it,
walking hard. The air was cold and light. Her breath left her lungs in small, misty puffs, and the tip of her nose grew cold.

But her legs warmed quickly, then her arms, and then sweat was trickling beneath her sport bra. The need to weep left her as the sun began to rise, tipping the conical tops of pine trees and dancing through the flat, glittery leaves of aspens in their new spring attire. She walked and walked, walked away resentment. Walked away shock. Walked away the illusions she'd carefully constructed last night to protect herself as she slept.

On the fourth mile, she let the thought of Robert in. With it came a thud of desire, remembered lust and wistful yearning and surprised connection. It had been too intense last night. Too much to absorb at once. She had known she was very attracted to him, had known there was a powerful chemistry between them.

She had not anticipated the way being with him would blow her wide open the way it had, ripping away every vestige of protection she'd ever assembled, revealing her like a half-formed butterfly torn from its cocoon.

Rounding the last hill, headed down toward the top of her street, she flipped a loose lock of hair from her face. How would they handle the next meeting? Should she avoid him? Confront him? Wait for him to come to her?

No. At least on the last one, she knew the answer. His feelings had been gravely injured and she didn't blame him. He wouldn't come to her. And maybe that was good. She had not liked that feeling of such a loss of control last night, not one bit. It felt dangerous. It made her too vulnerable, too exposed.

A twining thread of heat slid through her breasts, touched her mouth, as if in denial of her thoughts. But
that was sex. She hadn't said she didn't like the sex—that
would
be a big fat lie. That was the chemistry that was pulling them together, pheromones or hormones or pictures they saw in books as children. She had not really experienced quite that level of intensity before, but she had felt chemistry in that class.

What she had not liked was the
intimacy.
Laughing with him so much over dinner, and connecting on all those internal levels, discovering she liked them, then that wild and tender joining.

She pressed cold fingers to her temple. How could she even look him in the eye?

When she came around the hundred-year-old pine that stood sentry to her driveway and saw his truck, she came very close to bolting—her mind urged her to do it, to protect herself, to run, now, while she still could. He had not seen her. He sat on the top step, right in the middle, his long legs cocked at the knee, his hands clasped loosely. His hair was braided.

She didn't bolt because her body betrayed her, going hot and tight and soft at once, renewing the war she'd felt last night over him leaving. Rejection and passion and terror and something bright and soft she couldn't really name. She stayed where she was, beneath the long sheltering arms of the tree, frozen.

A squirrel skittered across the porch, catching his attention, and he watched it, sitting motionless as it crept up to him, a smile forming on that stern mouth. The rodent crept up very, very slowly, whiskers quivering, tail twitching, and still Robert remained utterly still. All at once, it seemed to sense human blood, because it stood up straight, like a cartoon character, every hair on end, and bolted. Robert chuckled, and without thinking, so did Marissa.

Startled, he looked around, and for one moment they were back in her bed, staring deep into each other's eyes as they kissed, made love. Everything but his eyes, long and dark and still, disappeared from her world. Even her sense of herself. It scared her, made hard knots of pressure come back. She took a breath, her smile gone. The laughter faded from the air as if it had never been.

Gravely he stood. Marissa unfroze and approached, halting at the bottom of the steps. “Hi.”

“I don't want what happened to hurt Crystal,” he said without preamble. “You're good for her, and she likes you and she needs anybody she can get in her corner.”

Marissa swallowed.

He looked toward the mountains, spread one hand. “If you want to make sure I'm not around when you visit or whatever, I understand. We'll figure it out.”

That feeling of wanting to cry came back. “No, I don't want you to leave.” She bowed her head, and realized she still smelled of him, of them, along with the sweat of her walk. Her stomach twisted and she couldn't think of what to say. “Does it have to be so…final?” she said at last.

He took a step down. “I kinda thought that was what you wanted.”

“No!” She looked up, felt that flash, the longing in her throat. She didn't have any words for this. Looking up at his grave face, she only wanted to lean into him, put her cheek against his chest, start over. “I made such a mess of things,” she said quietly. “I don't know how to take it back. But I would if I could.”

She saw his throat move. He took another step down. “It just wasn't right, Marissa. We knew better.”

“Did we?” She moved this time, conscious of her wild hair and the makeup left from last night and the
fact that she looked more than a little dumpy in her sweats, but it suddenly seemed like a lot rested on this very moment, that she'd remember it for the rest of her life if it went wrong. “I think it was so right that it scared us both.”

Recognition flashed over his face, unmistakable, then a long cord of jaw went hard. He shook his head. In those conflicting expressions, Marissa saw her own struggle.

Her hands were trembling a little, but she braced herself and took that last step, the one that took her to stand right in front of him, and she swayed forward and put her forehead against his chest. “What if it was and we're too scared to do anything with it, Robert?” she asked. “Sometimes you don't get a second chance.”

His hands flew up around her head, paused and then one landed across the back of her neck. “I gotta think of Crystal first. You and me, we've made it this far, we'll be okay. She might not. She needs us both.” He used his other hand to cup her cheek, lift her face. “This is really volatile, this thing between us, and she doesn't need that.” A quirk on his wide mouth. “You don't need it. You just found this new life, worked hard for it.”

“And what about you?”

“I really don't need it.” He let go of a humorless little laugh. “I'm sober. Got a job I'm crazy about. A home.” That twitch in his throat. “Even a family. Might not seem like a lot to somebody else, but it's precious to me. Can't risk it.”

An arrow went through her. Marissa stepped back, frowning, feeling suddenly sure that was the wrong answer, but unable to figure out just then what the right one might be. She wet her lips, about to speak, but a car pulled in the driveway behind her, honking, and Marissa
screeched before she was all the way around. “Victoria!”

 

The woman stepped out of the car, tall and skinny, with reddish streaks in her dark, gel-mussed hair. Robert blinked. It was like seeing Marissa in a fun house mirror. She wore an orange tie-dyed dress, showing off a deep tan that seemed almost a sacrilege in comparison to Marissa's porcelain complexion.

The woman halted, her mouth dropping open as Marissa laughed and spun in a circle, evidently showing off her weight loss, and then they both started talking at once, hugging and screeching and standing back, talking all the while. The words were fragmented, spilling out in some shorthand or something. No, even more than that—they had words in there he didn't even recognize.

Feeling awkward, he pulled his keys from his pocket and headed for the truck.

Marissa turned abruptly. “Wait! Robert, this is my twin sister, Victoria.”

Their faces were almost exactly the same—that vivid blue in the eyes, the same mouth—but oddly, Marissa looked about five years younger than Victoria, and where Marissa was probably still carrying about twenty extra pounds, Victoria was about that much underweight. Her cheekbones and collarbones and joints were sharp.

And where Marissa's face was always open, friendly, Victoria looked distinctly aloof. He disliked her instantly. “How you doing?” he said gruffly, and headed for the truck. “See ya,” he said to Marissa, raising his chin. Unsettled, unsatisfied, he drove away.

 

By previous arrangement, Robert went by Louise's on the way home from work. He was tired, bone tired, but
determined to get things off on the right foot with his niece today. He was pleased to see that Crystal was sitting in the living room, dressed, when he showed up, as if she were eager to get home.

“Hey, Uncle,” she said. “Ramona says I can get up tomorrow, walk around, but no school till next week. Did you get my homework from today?”

“Not yet,” he said, wincing inwardly. Hadn't even crossed his mind, actually. “I bet Ma—Ms. Pierce took care of it.”

Crystal rolled her eyes with a little smile. “You can call her Marissa. I know you like her.”

He let down his guard just a little, lifting one eyebrow in acknowledgment.

“Did you go out with her last night?” Crystal asked.

“Why?” A little ripple of guilt touched him.

A lift of one shoulder. “Just wondered.”

Louise had been on the phone and she came out of the kitchen. “Hey there, handsome. Your girl's in great shape today. See that?”

“I do. You must have the magic mom touch.”

Crystal sobered when she looked at Louise. “She's had lots of practice, Uncle. That's all.”

He touched her shoulder, a mute thanks for her consideration of his ego.

“Let me talk to you a minute,” Louise said, cocking her head toward the kitchen.

“You all right, kid?” Robert asked, catching the glance between the two females.

Crystal nodded, again very soberly, and Robert followed Louise with some concern. “Did something happen?” he asked when they got to the kitchen.

But Louise only shook her head, pulling open the long sliding door that led to the deck and pointing for him to
go out. His concern deepened as she followed him out and slid the door closed. “You're scaring me, Louise.”

She patted his arm, shaking her head. “She's fine, honey. But I've got a job for you to do.”

“A job?”

She nodded, and took a breath. “Her boyfriend was beaten by the gangs and taken out of the city. She has no idea where he went. I betcha his mama spirited him out of there, just like any mother with any sense. But if that's so, why hasn't he tried to contact Crystal?” Her blue eyes, sharp and clear, met his. “See what I'm saying?”

“Yeah.” He leaned on the railing. “You know his name?”

“Mario. That's all she'll tell me.”

He scowled. “You know how many Marios live in Albuquerque, Louise?”

“Your sister's still there, isn't she? Call her.”

He nodded.

“She wants to keep the baby, darlin'.”

He closed his eyes. “I know.” But somehow, stating it aloud brought a heaviness to his spirits. Any sense of possibility or joy he'd taken from this new, strange, disturbing connection to Marissa evaporated completely. He had not realized, until that second, that he'd been harboring hope that there might be a way for them, a way to work things out.

But he saw now how absurd it was. Not because of Crystal or her baby. He'd probably known all along that she wouldn't be able to give it up.

No, the mood evaporated simply because there was so much
reality
to his life, while Marissa's was full of unreality. It had been crazy to think there was any possibility of a solution to their attraction to each other. He
should never have gone back there last night. Should never have—

Her skin, so pure and poreless, gliding against his mouth; her soft, hungry cries, panted into his ear; the eager yet shy way she reached for him—

He'd known better, and now he straightened, clearing his throat and putting out his hand. “Thanks, Louise. I owe you a lot.”

She winked. “More than you know, son.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

An airy smile. “Nothing at all.”

 

Robert got Crystal settled and started dinner under her supervision—grinning at her bossiness. “Not that pan, Uncle, the big frying pan.” And when the girl was safely absorbed in watching a movie in the living room, he dialed his sister's Albuquerque number and carried the cordless phone outside to the backyard.

Alicia greeted him with a litany of false sweetness laden with guilt, the language of their own mother, and to avoid the anger it sent through him, Robert got right to the point. “Do you know Crystal's friend Mario?”

“Duh. He lived across the alley since he was born.”

“Where did he go, Alicia?”

“Nobody knows. Just him and his mom took off one night. Crystal went crazy, calling the hospitals and stuff, but she didn't find him.”

“What's his last name?”