Haunting Refrain (24 page)

“Okay, I’ll accept that for now. You know him, I don’t. But tell me about this morning anyway.” He watched Kate open a cabinet and peer in for a minute, then close it and move to another.

“There’s nothing here to eat.” She abandoned the cabinets and moved to the refrigerator. “I don’t cook much.”

“Let me look. We can come up with something.” John, with confidence born of ignorance, gently shoved her aside and looked in at the bare shelves.
Half a loaf of whole wheat bread, a couple of cartons of yogurt, a jar of mayonnaise, and one lonely plastic container.
“Geez!
You really don’t cook.”

He opened the container.
“My God!
What’s this?” he asked, staring at the round brownish lumps.

“Eye of newt,” she said solemnly.

Bravely, he touched the congealed mass with a finger and stuck it in his mouth. “Lentils,” he said, smiling.

“Really?”
She peered into the dish, widening her eyes.
 
“Maybe that’s why you’re not sitting on a lily pad, belching ‘
ribbit
.’”

“Pack your stuff, Witch.” He ruffled her hair with his knuckles. “We can pick up some fried chicken on the way to my house.”

Kate followed him in her car, idling in the parking lot while he ran into a country-style restaurant for the chicken.

At his house, she trailed after him into the kitchen and dropped her small gym bag in the corner.

John handed her a bunch of grapes. “Wash these while I heat some leftovers to go with the chicken.”

She turned from the sink with the grapes dripping in her hands, surprised to find he had already filled the plates on the table. Was he that fast, or was she that slow?

Kate selected a leg from the bowl of chicken. John rolled his sleeves to his elbows and took three pieces. “In the morning I want to go to the Oconee County Court House and make a list of property owners around
Lake
Jocassee
. Duke Power Company still owns most of the land, so there shouldn’t be too many.”

He took a long drink of tea and polished off a thick thigh. “It’s likely to have been someone with access to a boat already docked there. I can’t imagine pulling a boat all the way out there on a rainy night—it would attract too much attention.”

“And wouldn’t hauling a boat imply planning? I think he did it in anger, just got carried away.” Kate pushed her plate back and toyed with the grapes.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, popping a grape into his mouth. “Tell me about your morning.”

With a dreamy expression, she told him about the Sterns. “He kissed the back of her neck when he turned her back to her window garden.”

They carried the dishes to the sink, and John plunged his hands into the hot soapy water, passing the cleaned dishes to Kate. She rinsed and dried in silence, still thinking of the Sterns and how she would display the photographs of Lila.

“Hey, come back,” John said, waving his hand in front of her face. “How are your ankles?”

She blinked and turned to him. “I’m not ready for any serious running—unless it’s in a good cause—
“ She
rubbed her stomach. “But they’re okay. That little distance at the park didn’t hurt.”

Holding her hand, he led her into the dining room and flicked the switch on the CD player. “Let’s dance.”

Kate stepped into his arms as Louis Armstrong’s rich voice crooned the first mellow notes of “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

By the time they reached “September Song,” Kate could hardly keep her eyes open.

“Let’s go up,” John said.

The solid wooden stairs gave no sound. There would be no telltale creak if an intruder crept up in the night, as there would have been in Kate's house. She wondered if
Venice
had had any warning. She still couldn't remember what had happened.

When they reached the top of the stairs, John took his hand from hers. The sudden withdrawal of warmth left her a surprising sense of loneliness. John opened a door that led to one of the front bedrooms and flipped the light switch. “I haven't done much upstairs. Just shoved some stuff in here and closed the door. I can make up the bed and put a lamp in here for you.”

Turning on the light, a single overhead bulb, he glanced into the bare room. “I didn’t realize how inhospitable the room might seem to a woman. Until now, my brother-in-law, who didn’t even care if the bed had sheets, has been the only one to use it.”

“
It’s
fine,” she said without thinking. She looked around, at the empty walls lined with packing boxes, the dusty hardwood floor. The narrow bed, its bare mattress covered in striped ticking, had a forlorn look.
Safe, but lonely.
She didn’t want to be lonely. She could feel the heat of John’s warm, solid body behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at the
squarish
hand resting on the light switch, remembering the feel of it at her waist.

“Actually,” she said, clearing her throat, turning to face him, “I don’t want to sleep here.” She didn't want to sleep alone, she wanted to stay with him, wanted him.

“You shouldn’t go home, Kate. Why don’t you take my
bed.
It’s a little better, and I’ll sleep here.”

“I think your bed sounds good,” she said, turning off the light. Aware of her heart pounding in her chest, she took his hand in hers and pressed it against her cheek. “But don’t bother with this one.”

“What did you have in mind for me?” he asked cautiously.

Why did he have to be such a gentleman? Couldn’t he help her out here? “Hmm-mm,” she said, closing her eyes and holding her wrist limply against her forehead. “It’s coming to me now. I see two people. They’re in a large bed—”

Laughing, he slid his arms around her. “I like your vision, Witch,” he said and leaned slowly down to her, watching, giving her a last chance to withdraw.

She smelled the pleasant scent of him, could see the shadow that marked his beard at the end of a long day. Her eyes closed as he came too near for focus. His warm lips touched hers, gently, and then harder as his arms tightened, enclosing her. Sliding her hands over his shoulders and around his neck, she pressed her body to his.

He stepped back and took her hand as he led her across the landing into his room. Leaning down, he pulled a shirt off the back of a chair and draped it over the small bedside lamp, dimming the light, bathing the tired walls in a mellow glow. Silently, he faced her again. His eyes never left hers as he reached for the front of her blouse. Kate's breath caught in her throat as she felt his fingers move down the buttons, felt the soft breath of cool air against her skin. Heat rushed through her blood like fire through a tunnel. She leaned into him.

* * *

The seductive aroma of coffee drew her from sleep. Awareness dawned and she remembered where she was. Behind her hand, she yawned widely, opening her eyes to sunlight and a steaming cup on the nightstand. Tucking the sheet under her arms and her hair behind her ears, Kate pushed herself up against the pillows.

Waking up in someone else’s bed was a new experience, or if not new, long forgotten. John was not in sight, for which she was grateful. She ought to be up and dressed before he returned, but the lure of fresh coffee was too strong, and she flopped back against the pillows with a sigh. She savored the coffee—having it served to her in bed seemed downright decadent.

John called up the stairs, “Breakfast in ten minutes.” The soaring notes of a soprano followed his voice. The aria, whatever it was, was beautiful.

Mm-mm, I think I’m in love
. Kate sighed and stretched, reluctantly setting aside the coffee cup.
Joke! That was a joke
, she reminded herself. Her gym bag sat on the floor beside her. Was this man for real, she wondered, dressing quickly in her darkroom
clothes.

“Good morning,” she said from the kitchen door, holding her empty cup. “Am I in time?”

“Barely.”
Holding the coffeepot in one hand, he snaked his arm around her waist and kissed her. Then he filled her cup. “I let you sleep as long as I could. I have to leave soon, and I didn’t know if you had any appointments this morning.”

He made everything thing seem so natural, her morning-after awkwardness completely disappeared. She wanted to tell him how much his easy kindness meant but couldn’t find the words.

“Thank you.” Sliding into the chair he held, she added, “For everything. It’s the first time I’ve really slept since this all started,” She reached for the milk and sniffed, peering into the glass pitcher. “It’s fresh. You’re an amazing man, John Gerrard,” she said as she poured it over a bowl of Special K. All those vitamins! How like him.

He smiled, then sobered. “Be careful today, Kate. I called
Venice
’s room—”

“
Venice
! Oh my goodness, I forgot about her,” Kate whispered, appalled.

“You’re hardly awake. It would all have come back soon enough. Anyway, Martin answered. He said she had a good night, but she’s still having a lot of pain and is groggy. She told Lynne Waite she doesn’t remember anything.”

“Detective Waite?”

John nodded, grinning. “Last night. Apparently Martin got through to her. She’s very concerned and said for you to be careful.
Venice
told her not to worry, you were with me.”

“How did
Venice
—?” She broke off, shaking her head. “The same way she always does, I guess.”

“Well, maybe not. I told Martin yesterday that I was keeping you with me. I doubt if he’ll let
Venice
out of his sight again. This really scared him.”

“They’ve been friends for years. I guess neither of them has anyone else to worry about.”

“Kate, they’re a lot more than friends.”

“They are?” she asked, surprised. “How do you know?”

“Watching them together.
You’re probably too close to see it,” he said, finishing the last of his coffee as he stood. He took a steel ring from his pocket and worked a brass key off. “I’ve got to go. Here’s a key to the front door. I’m going to
Oconee
this morning, but I should be back by lunch. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

She took the key, a little dazed.
Martin and
Venice
.
My goodness.
“I will. Call if you find something. I’ll be at the studio after I see
Venice
.”

* * *

Martin rose from the bedside chair to greet her. When Kate saw
Venice
lying there, so pallid and frail, tears filled her eyes. “Oh,
Venice
,” she whispered, leaning over to kiss her.

Venice
raised her hand to Kate’s cheek. “I’m going to be fine, Kate. Don’t worry. Just take care of yourself.”

Aware now, Kate noticed how tenderly Martin dealt with
Venice
, holding the straw so she could sip water, smoothing her hair, adjusting the pillow. John’s right, he loves her. Just before
Venice
slipped into sleep, she gave him a smile so full of love that Kate felt like an intruder.

After a few minutes with Martin, she left. Seeing them and the Sterns had given her a new perspective on love and marriage. Maybe happily-ever-
afters
were possible with the right person and a lot of effort. She knew it took effort, no matter how right the people were. Still dreaming, she wound through the hospital corridors and left.

When Kate reached the parking lot, a big red-faced man in sharp creases and starch stood beside the fender of a BMW nose to nose with her Mazda. Ignoring him, Kate approached the driver’s door of her car. He attacked like an outraged mother. “Is this your car? If you’ve damaged my car, I’ll sue! It’s brand new!”