Forever (22 page)

“Don’t. Oh God. I’m sorry. I’m
so
sorry.”

He turned the keys in the ignition, signaling his desire to leave, but Annie made no move to get out. She ached to touch him. But if she reached for his hand now, she feared he would—would what? That he would push her away? No. She feared he wouldn’t be there at all. That he wasn’t real. That the man of her dreams was really the man of her nightmares. If she turned her head to the left—
don’t do it
—would she see Gary?
Let me wake up. Please, God, let me wake up to the dream
.

“Let me go, Annie.”

His voice was choked with emotion, but definitely it was Tom’s voice she heard. Tom’s voice ripping out her heart. She stumbled getting out of the truck. Her icy body struggled to obey orders. He jammed the truck in reverse, and was tearing down the street before she made it back inside her house.

Feeling hollow and fragile as the wings on a dead butterfly, she collapsed into the nearest chair. As the purple shadows of twilight deepened to the blackness of night, she neither moved nor cried.

Kate came home an hour later. She flipped the light switch and cried out in surprise when she saw Annie sitting motionless in the chair. “What are you doing sit—” The rest of the words died in her throat as intuition changed her expression to a mixture of disappointment and anger. “Oh no. No!
Goddammit
, he can’t do this to you!”

* * *

Tom had the oddest sensation his mind had detached from his body. His body belonged to someone else. It was someone else who drove away from Annie’s house. Someone else sat through a green light, bought the wrong brand of cigarettes at the Super 7, and missed the turn into his own driveway. Definitely it was
someone else
who joked with Lindsay and her friends who were sitting in the family room. But halfway up the stairs to his bedroom,
someone else
disappeared, leaving him alone to sit on the edge of the bed with elbows on knees, head cradled in hands, shaking violently.

He wanted desperately to
be
someone else because this person he’d become repulsed him. He despised himself for what he’d done these past two weeks, and he didn’t question that Annie felt the same way about him.
How could she not
?

He dropped his clothes in a heap on the floor, collapsed onto the bed, and grabbed the remote. He had no interest in watching anything on TV, but he hoped it would drown out his own inner voice. Though awake when Julie came home after eleven, he lay in the dark, still as death. It was sometime after two before he escaped the cage of consciousness.

June 18

W
hen the alarm woke him, Tom shot a hand out to silence it but made no further move. This is my first day
back in reality.
He lay on his side counting the green LED segments of the clock numerals. One, two, three, four . . . five segments in the number five—amazing but true. Julie nudged him to make sure he was awake. At her prompt, he forced himself to get out of bed and plod to the bathroom.

Twenty-minutes later, as he drew water to make coffee, he looked out the kitchen window. The day was as gloomy as his thoughts. He set the coffee brewing and tuned the TV to the weather channel. When the local forecast predicted waves of thunderstorms throughout the day, Tom knew he’d have to cancel the day’s exterior construction. Still, one of the crews would be doing interior work, and he had never-ending paperwork to do. Stacks of it. Mounds even. Today, he was grateful for it all to keep his mind busy.

Though the alarm had gone off thirty minutes ago, Julie still lay in bed. She hated alarms. She liked to wake up slowly. Although she was ashamed to admit it, she’d hated mornings when Lindsay, as a toddler, stood at the side of her bed holding out her empty pink butterfly bowl asking for “foo woops.” Having to jump out of bed and start full-blast into the day was hell. But lately she’d noticed that she was wide-awake before she drank half her first cup of coffee. Of course, then she struggled to stay awake the rest of the day. One of the benefits of aging, she supposed.

In two months she would be forty-three.
Forty-three
. Middle age had sneaked up on velvet cat paws, but some days, like today, it tangled itself in her hair and wouldn’t let go. It wasn’t so much what she saw when she looked in her mirror. The liquor store clerk was never going to card her again, but she was still a far cry from being given an automatic senior citizen’s discount. But exactly what did others see when they looked at her? What did Tom see?

Forty-three.

Suddenly, she remembered the only bit of advice Tom’s mother had ever given her. Ruth had said, “Take care of your looks, Julie. If you find yourself all alone at forty-two, your looks might be all you have left.” She knew that Ruth referred to her own widowhood, but the warning seemed so bizarre Julie never mentioned it to Tom. Now,
she
was forty-two, but she wasn’t alone. Not yet, anyway. Her fear of Tom leaving her was another contributing factor to her newfound insecurity. This loss of confidence was the reason she found it unbearable to be alone for more than ten minutes.

Too
much solitude turned her thoughts to the subject of death and how close she might be to that.

The ringing of her phone temporarily swept the last thought from her mind. She let it go three times before she gave in and answered.

“Good morning,” Eddie chirped. “I do hope you’re ready for a surprise.”

“I hope it’s a good one.”

“How about a week in sunny southern California? Is that a good one?”

“And why would I be spending a week in California?”

“Because you’re worth it, my dear. It’s my little treat to you.”

“That’s very generous, but—”

“Now, don’t disappoint me. I have it all planned. You’ve been studying so intently, and you’re going to be working long hours at the office soon. You—”

“But I can’t just—”

“
Julie
. Don’t speak. Just listen to Dr. Eddie for a moment. Listen. All right?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“Good. That’s very good. We talked last night about the stress you’ve been under with Lindsay going off to school and your . . . uh . . . situation with Tom. And I say, time out. You need to get away for a little while. Gain a new perspective on things. Mellow out. This is something you’ve wanted to do for a long time. Now, relax. Take a deep breath. Blow it out slowly.”

Eddie paused, and though she didn’t know why, she obeyed his instruction.

“Now, Julie, listen to my voice. Clear your mind. Let all that tension drain away. Everything will be fine if you go back to sleep. Sleep.
Sleeep
. . .”

* * *

God, what a morning he’d had. At least the weather cooperated for the first few hours. But before noon, the relentless rain turned the construction site into a swamp, and Tom sent the crew home. By two o’clock, paperwork finished, he sat at his desk in the office trailer, staring at the rain drops running down the windows. From habit, he wondered what Annie was doing at that moment. Even knowing he could never dial her number again, he glanced at the phone.

Seconds later, lightning struck a nearby transformer, plunging the office into an early dusk. Bonnie left for home, but Tom sat still. He had no reason to stay there, but he had no desire to go home. Maybe the gloom and definitely the hypnotic sound of rain drumming on the metal roof of the trailer made Tom drowsy. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the desk.

“You had no right,” Jacob said, “she was promised to me!”

“I had every right,” the old man stormed back. “Maggie is my daughter. I did my duty to see she was well married.”

“Well married,” Jacob scoffed. “By God, are you denying what you know about the man? If ever a man was born without a heart, it was Elihu Bennett. You’ve sent your daughter into a life of misery. Tell me, did she fetch you a good price?”

The old man stiffened. “Elihu is a respectable man, and worth far more than a half-breed fur trader like you will ever be. You’ve come too late. Now, go. Get off my property.”

“I’ll go because I’m off to Indiana to find her. You’re right; I was too late. Too late to save Maggie from your selfish greed, but I swear I
will
save her from her fate with Bennett.”

Tom jerked upright, and like Annie had done at the river, he tried to convince himself he’d fallen asleep and dreamed. But while Jacob’s anger still raged through
his
body, it was impossible to deny he’d had another vision.

Considering the conversation he’d just witnessed, he understood Jacob’s hatred of Bennett a little better now. Maggie had been stolen from him. This wasn’t the first time Tom had felt Jacob’s hatred second hand. When Jacob turned to face Maggie's husband, he’d been consumed with it. Understandable. But Tom was unaccustomed to feeling hatred like that, and it sickened him.

What worried him was the thought that a man who was that strongly filled with hate might not rest easy in his grave. Annie believed this thing they were experiencing was a case of reincarnation, but now he considered it could be something else. It might actually be a haunting. In spite of his unease, he had to smile at that. Two weeks ago he would have said he didn’t believe in either.

Sighing deeply, Tom rose from his desk. Jacob and Maggie’s was a tragic story, but whatever had happened almost two centuries ago no longer concerned him. Jacob and Maggie were long dead, killed by their love for each other.

And Annie and I—as lovers—are just as dead
.

“Get the hell out of my life, Jacob. Don’t bother me again.” To prevent damage from a surge when the power came back up, Tom switched off the main power to the computers. After locking the door, he made a dash through the rain for his truck. Despite its reminding him of Annie or maybe to punish himself for that, he set off for the Coach House.

* * *

Tom was surprised to find the pub packed in the middle of the day. He glanced at his watch. It was just after four o’clock. Happy hour.
And it’s Friday
. Arriving customers jostled him as they passed, and Tom stepped out of the way, scanning the place. There were no free tables or booths. He headed toward one of the vacant bar stools.

He was lost in thought, drinking his second beer, when someone slapped him on the back.

“Hey there, buddy.”

He cringed, recognizing the voice. Dear Old Eddie took the stool next to his.

“How’s it going, Eddie?”

“It’s going great, Tom. You know about the new business?”

“Yeah, Julie told me. Congratulations,” he said with little enthusiasm. “Good luck doing business with your girlfriend, though.”

Eddie looked momentarily puzzled, and then he shook his head, chuckling. “Patricia’s just a friend, an old friend.”

“I guess I misunderstood, then.” Tom drained the last of his beer and stood up. “I should get home.”

“You know,” Eddie said, “I saw you here with her . . . the woman from the Cineplex.” He smiled and gave Tom a knowing wink. “She’s a beautiful one.”

For a moment, Tom clenched his fists, itching for the satisfaction of punching that smug grin right off Eddie’s face. Then fear slammed his heart. Eddie was in position to greatly complicate his life with this knowledge.

Shit
. Eddie had seen him with Annie that day—here in the Coach House of all places. He could only have seen them talking, but Tom had no doubt Eddie would insinuate it was more if he told Julie. Tom’s knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the barstool again. “It’s not what you think.”

Eddie laughed heartily. “Sure it is. But hey, your secret is safe with me.” He gave Tom another conspiratorial wink and slap on the back. “We
all
have our secrets, Tom.”

Tom’s skin crawled under Eddie’s touch, but he didn’t allow his disgust to show on his face. As much as it killed him to admit it, he couldn’t afford to offend Eddie now.

“I won’t be seeing her again.” He studied Eddie’s face for a sign of disbelief and was puzzled when he saw disappointment—anger even.

“That’s too bad,” Eddie said. “It truly is.”

Eddie seemed about to say more, but he hesitated, taking a sip of his drink. Tom saw it as an opening for escape and tried to stand. He was shocked to discover he couldn’t. He stayed glued to the bar stool as bug-eyed and immobile as the stone frog in Julie’s herb garden.

After a moment, with his eyes still focused on the drink in his hand, Eddie spoke again.

“Wouldn’t it be a pity if you realized too late you’d made the wrong choice?” He slowly rotated his head in Tom’s direction, showing a cold smile and even colder eyes. “See you around, Tom.”

Eddie’s farewell released the force holding Tom. He slid off his bar stool and stumbled out of the pub into the storm. Shaken to the bones, he climbed into his truck, fumbling twice, before he managed to shove the keys into the ignition. He started the engine, then turned it off, and collapsed in a fit of laughter. He must have drunk more beers than he thought. And he’d downed them too fast—on an empty stomach. He had a buzz. Maybe more than a buzz.

Tom shook his head.
Imagine thinking that little prick could ever scare the hell out of me
.
What a riot
! Vowing to stop drinking alone on dreary afternoons, Tom restarted the truck.

He’d left his cell phone on the dash when he went into the pub. Now, its blinking light caught his eye. Missed calls. Steering the truck with one hand, Tom pulled out of the lot, and dialed with the other to retrieve voice messages. He mentally filed replies to the ones from business associates, but the one from Julie, telling him she needed to talk to him tonight, alarmed him. His gut told him tonight they’d have
the talk
, the one he’d been expecting for days.

He berated himself for the stupidity of thinking he could just break it off with Annie and everything would be fine between him and Julie. Now he’d discovered that she’d been working almost daily with someone who knew about him and Annie—maybe with
two
people who knew. He couldn’t be sure Eddie hadn’t already told Patricia about seeing the two of them together. Though, if Patricia knew, he probably would have heard her breaking the sound barrier to spread the news to Julie. So he still held a little hope Eddie had not blabbed.