Fade to Black (46 page)

Mallory realizes, then, that this isn’t a nightmare. She’s really here; Rae’s here. It’s actually happening.

But it must be a joke
, she tells herself, trying to quell the panic that is rising inside of her.

she’s playing a joke
.

She has to be playing a joke, except …

Rae has never been the type to play a joke.

So? You haven’t seen her in five years. Maybe she’s changed....

Seized by a dire need to believe the impossible, Mallory reaches out abruptly and grabs Rae’s black sunglasses, swiftly pulling them away from her face.

The unmistakable madness she sees in Rae’s ice-blue eyes as they bore into her own confirms that this is no joke.

“Rae,” Mallory says urgently, suppressing a shudder and flinging the sunglasses to the rocky ground, “you need help. I’ll make sure that you get it. You need—”

“The only way you can help me is to kill yourself again, Mallory. But this time, do it for real.”

Mallory follows Rae’s gaze downward, to where her own shoes are inches from the edge of the precipice. Beyond the edge, twelve hundred feet straight down, are jagged rocks and the raging sea.

“Rae, no,” Mallory says raggedly. “I’m not going to do it. You know I’m not. I have no desire to kill myself.”

I want to live. I want to go back to Windmere Cove. I want to be with Harper. I want to take care of Manny. They need me. I need them
.

The realization that all at once she knows where she belongs is lost in a sudden jolt of fear as Mallory takes a step backward, away from the cliff—and feels Rae’s cold hand clamp around her arm.

“You don’t want to live, Mallory. Not after everything you’ve been through. Your mother showing up, and Gretchen … It’s too much for you to bear.”

“No,” she says, bewildered, looking into Rae’s steely gaze. “Rae, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Sure I do. I had no idea they were going to show up here when they did, but I have to say, everything’s fallen into place nicely.”

“What do you mean?”

“Witnesses. Your mother, Gretchen, the reporter, the camera crew … I have all those witnesses who saw how distraught you were when you ran away from them. No one who saw you would doubt that you were so unbalanced, so upset, that you came up here and killed yourself. It’s even the same method you supposedly used five years ago—jumping all that way into that deadly water. It’s perfect.”

“I’m not going to kill myself.”

There’s a faraway expression in Rae’s eyes as she talks on, seemingly murmuring to herself. “I’ll tell them that I brought you back to the room when we left the porch, but you escaped when I wasn’t looking. That I came out here to find you, but it was too late.”

“Rae, this is crazy.”

You’re crazy
.

“I’ll tell them that all last night you were threatening suicide, and I was trying to console you.”

“Rae …”

“Go ahead, Mallory,” Rae says, her eyes snapping back into focus, zeroing in on Mallory’s face. “Jump.”

“I’m not going to jump.”

Rae shrugs. “Then I’ll have to push you.”

In one abrupt movement she releases her grip on Mallory’s arm, then shoves hard against her back with both hands.

“No!” Mallory shrieks, struggling to keep her footing.

“Yes!”

“No!”

It’s too late.

Mallory feels herself losing her balance …

But then, instead of a terrifying, prolonged drop toward the sea, she instantly finds herself jarred by painful rocks beneath her.

She’s been knocked to the ground at the very edge of the cliff. She looks up, dazed, and sees Rae standing above her, smirking.

“Oops, you missed. Good-bye, Mallory,” Rae says cheerfully.

“No, Rae … don’t do this …”

“I have no choice.” Rae bends toward her, giving her a mighty push.

Mallory resists, squirming under Rae’s hands, scratching at the rocky slab beneath her …

But there’s nothing to grab on to.

And then her legs are flying over the edge into nothingness, and she’s clawing frantically for anything that will stop her, and there’s nothing, nothing, nothing …

Until her hands latch on to a chunk of rock jutting from just beneath the top of the ridge.

Loose stones are still raining from above, falling past her toward the distant sea, too far below for their splashes to be heard.

And despite the momentary reprieve, Mallory knows it’s over.

She can’t hold on.

Still, she swings her dangling legs toward the rock wall in front of her, searching vainly for a toehold in its sheer face.

“Well, look at you.” Rae’s voice sails down from above. “You really are something. You know, I think it’s time you had a choice in this matter. Do you want to hang there for a while and think about how eventually your arms or that rock are going to give way and send you to your death? Or should I give you a hand and get it over with for you? After all, dying is inevitable either way. Which would you prefer?”

Mallory grits her teeth, fighting to hang on, unable to look up at Rae or reply. She looks down, desperate to find a toehold, and catches a glimpse of the rocky, foaming sea far below, waiting to swallow her battered body.

No! This can’t happen! I’m not ready to die …

“No answer? Well, that’s rude.” Rae’s shadow looms over her. “I’ll just be merciful and give you a hand, then. It’s too cruel to let you suffer this way. After all, even animals are put out of their misery.”

She feels Rae’s fingers brush against her own and braces herself for what’s coming.

Please, God, let it be fast
—

There’s a sudden scrambling sound, a high-pitched shriek above her, and then something swooshes past, just missing her.

Mallory knows what has happened even before Rae’s scream travels upward and then fades as her body hurls toward the sea.

She lost her balance. She fell. Rae fell over the edge. Rae’s going to die.

And so am I
, Mallory realizes.

Her shoulders and arms burn with the exertion of being contorted, of supporting her entire weight. She will never have the strength to pull herself up over that cliff. There’s no hope for her. She might as well let go …

But I can’t just give up…

I don’t want to die…

Please …

But her strength has run out. Her hands are slipping from the rock, and this is it …

Except that she’s falling up, not down.

How can that be?

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

And then she realizes that someone’s strong hands are on her wrists, that someone is pulling her up, up, up, over the edge.

And then she’s on the ridge again, lying like a rag doll on the sun-warmed rocky ground, her eyes open and staring overhead, where a gull is banking against the deep blue sky.

For a few moments she’s too stunned and exhausted to move; she can only lie there, panting and thankful.

Then she feels gentle hands stroking her hair, and strong arms pulling her close.

“God, Mallory, if I hadn’t gotten here in time to stop her …”

“Harper,” she murmurs, dazed, turning her head and looking into those clear green eyes.

“I’ve been looking all over that trail for you for hours now,” he says, his breathing as labored as her own. “I heard her voice before I reached the clearing.”

“she’s … is she dead?”

Harper nods grimly.

“You pushed her?”

“No. She lost her balance when she was trying to make you let go of the rock. Maybe because she heard my footsteps behind her, but … oh, Mallory …”

He pulls her closer still, and his lips come down over hers in a sweet, lingering kiss. Her heart rate, which had just begun to slow, accelerates again.

Then he pulls back, and she shakes her head in wonder. “Am I dreaming this?”

He smiles and shakes his head.

“But what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be back in Rhode Island.”

“I couldn’t stay there without you. There’s so much I have to tell you—”

“Me too—”

“But all of that can wait,” Harper says softly, running a fingertip down her cheek. “There will be plenty of time for talking.”

“I know … there’s just one thing I want to tell you now.”

“What is it?”

“I’m coming home.”

He frowns slightly.

“To Windmere Cove,” she tells him.

“For good?”

“Yes. It’s where I belong.”

With you
.

And Manny
.

The three of us together … maybe we can be a family
.

But she doesn’t say any of that. As he said, there will be plenty of time for talking. And for …

Other things.

Harper grins.

She laughs. Hard.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, watching her.

“Nothing. I’m just … happy. For the first time in—maybe ever. It just feels good to laugh.”

He joins in.

And the ripples of their exhilarated laughter mingle with the ageless harmony of calling gulls and the breeze rustling the trees and the rhythmic, crashing waves of the ocean.

W
earing her nightgown and a bulky oatmeal-colored wool sweater several sizes too big, Mallory stands on the rocky cliff above the crashing ocean, her eyes trained absently on the horizon. The sky is still faintly streaked with pink from the sunrise, and the water is dotted with silhouettes of early morning fishing boats.

She wraps her arms around herself, hugging herself against the September chill in the salt wind that whips off the water.

September.

Again.

Time for the days to grow darker and shorter, for the flowers to die and the leaves to fade and fall, and the water and sky to meld in a drab shade of gray.

Time for so many things to end …

And for some to begin.

She hears a footstep behind her and gasps, jumping backward, away from the edge.

Then she spins around, sees who it is, and relaxes.

“Sorry to scare you,” Harper says.

“It’s okay.”

Maybe it will never go away, the memory …

Of Rae.

And what she did.

And how she died, her body battered but not lost in the churning Pacific.

But the memory has faded, some, in the thirteen months since it happened.

And it will continue to fade.

Because Mallory won’t let it haunt her forever. She has other things to think about now. Better things.

She smiles at Harper. His hair is sleep tousled, his face tinged by the shadow of a beard. He’s wearing a flannel shirt and navy sweatpants, soft, rumpled clothing that makes her want to step into his arms and snuggle her face against his warm chest.

So she does.

And as he holds her close, he says, “I brought you something.”

“Coffee?” She lifts her head hopefully.

“It’s brewing in the kitchen. I brought this.”

She frowns. “The newspaper?”

He hands it to her, folded to an inside page.

And then she realizes what it is. “Oh …”

“It’s an excellent review,” he says as she scans the article, topped by the headline
she’s Back, and Better Than Ever Before
.

“They liked the movie,” Harper goes on. “Liked de Lisser.
Loved
you.”

She nods faintly, reading.

…
In her first role since her career was suspended, Mallory Eden is, in a word dazzling. Her ravishing looks are more serene and womanly than before; she is, if possible, even more stunning as a brown-eyed brunette than she was as a blue-eyed blonde. She dazzles us, as always, with effervescent humor in the comic scenes, while her serious moments are tempered with a quiet inner strength that wasn’t there before
.

“You have no idea how proud I am,” Harper says, behind her, encircling her waist with his arms. “I know how hard it was for you to do this film. I know you didn’t want to.”

“I had to.”

She leans her head back against his shoulder and closes her eyes momentarily, thinking back over the months of emotional trauma and media frenzy and intense longing to be someplace other than on the set of Martin de Lisser’s latest movie.

To be right here, in fact …

On this high rocky ledge overlooking the Atlantic.

Behind her, in the distance, looms the house she bought with part of the money she got for doing the film. The rambling old three-story home, covered in weathered gray shingles and skirted by a wraparound porch, isn’t grand or enormous. But it’s right on the water, and it’s plenty big enough for Mallory and Harper …