If You Ever Tell (3 page)

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Authors: Carlene Thompson

BOOK: If You Ever Tell
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Damn babbling nurse, Jason thought furiously. Hadn’t she realized she was dealing with a traumatized child?

Celeste wiped at a tear running down her face. “After we got stabbed, I held Yogi tight and ran back to my room.”

Jason forced himself to shut his mouth. His daughter was looking at him with big eyes suddenly filled with both horror and hurt, the first expression he’d seen in them for what seemed like an eternity. He reached across, touched her hand, and her fingers curled around his as a baby’s would. He said softly, “I’m sorry about Yogi, but he probably saved your life. That would have made him happy.” Another tear trickled over Celeste’s cheek. “Honey, did the person stab you in your room?”

“No. I told you I got stabbed in the hall. Then I ran to my room.”

Police had assumed Celeste had heard someone in the house, and hidden in her toy chest where the killer stabbed her. They thought Celeste’s blood in the hall had dripped from the killer’s knife as he’d made his way to the Farrs’ bedroom from Celeste’s. Now it seemed that the blood had actually come directly from Celeste when she’d run back to her own room.

“But it was gonna stab me some more. It came after me,” Celeste went on urgently, her voice rising, as if she might suddenly lose the ability to talk again. “One time Teri and me were playing and she told me my toy chest was a good hidin’ place ’cause I didn’t have that many toys in there. I got in to hide.

“But when I was closin’ the lid, I heard somethin’ comin’ to my room. I knew I was gonna get killed this time. Then I heard screamin’. And the big dog next door was barkin’ and snarlin’ and it woke up other dogs ’cause they were all barkin’.” Celeste stopped as if the air had run out of her and said in an exhausted voice, “And I didn’t get killed.”

Jason knew he shouldn’t keep questioning Celeste in a restaurant full of people, but he was afraid if he made her leave, the break in her concentration would cause her to stop talking again. Maybe for months or even years. He took a sip of water, cleared his throat, and asked barely above a whisper, “Sweetie, are you sure you don’t know who stabbed you?”

“I don’t think so…” Her lips trembled. “
No
.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “You meant what you said first.
I don’t think so
. Celeste, who did you see?”

“No one,” Celeste said obstinately. “But I smelled something kind of sweet.” She rushed on as if she wanted to stop further questions. “I smelled it a few minutes ago.”

“In here?” Jason gasped.

Celeste nodded reluctantly. Jason’s head snapped around, then jerked back to his daughter as he prayed no one had heard Celeste or noticed his quick scrutiny of the patrons.

“Celeste,
why
did you start talking right now?”

The girl looked as if the words were being dragged from her. “The smell. And a noise. And a voice. All at once I felt like it was that night again and the words just came out even though I didn’t mean to talk. I was just real surprised. And scared,” Celeste finished meekly.

“I see.” Jason spoke to her gently. “Honey, you’ve been able to speak for quite a while, haven’t you?”

Celeste looked defeated. “Yeah. I really
couldn’t
talk after I got stabbed and Mommy got killed. I don’t know why I couldn’t talk. And I was scared all the time, really,
really
scared. And I was so…”

She was obviously floundering for a word. “Shocked?” Jason supplied. “Horrified by what had happened to you and Mommy?”

“Yeah. Shocked. Horrified. I wanted to be in a dark, secret place where no one could hurt me, so I went there. In my head, not to a real place. Later I came out of the secret place, but I just tried to think of nothing. I tried to look like I wasn’t thinking of anything. And I
wouldn’t
talk because I didn’t want to talk.” Celeste gave her father a small smile. “I can write, too, Daddy. I could already write when I got hurt and I’ve been practicin’ ever since I came out of my secret place. When I took classes in the hospital and when you had teachers come to give me lessons at home, I’d write a little bit, but I never showed how good I could write because I knew people would ask questions about that awful night and want me to write the answers. That was just as bad as talkin’ about what happened.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened, Daddy. Please don’t make me talk about it,” Celeste beseeched Jason. “If you ask lots of questions, I’ll go back into my secret place where I’m safe. Maybe I won’t come out again because I’m still
so
scared, Daddy. Maybe I’ll always be scared. It was so awful…
so
awful…”

Celeste began to shake all over. Jason squeezed her delicate hand, but she pulled it away, grabbing at her other hand and beginning to twist them together nervously. She turned slightly and glanced around the room. Jason watched closely as her gaze seemed to grow far away. Either that, or it had turned in upon itself, remembering. He thought he had lost her again, that she wasn’t going to utter another word. Finally, though, her expression seemed to harden, to morph into one of impish malice. She looked at him with an amused, almost cocky gaze before she tilted her head and began to chant loudly:

“The clock struck three,
And Death came for me.
When I opened my eyes,
There was Teri!”

People around them had begun to stop talking, everyone turning to stare at the lovely teenager. Somewhere a glass crashed to the floor. To Jason’s horror, Celeste repeated piercingly, “The clock struck three, and Death came for me. When I opened my eyes, there was
Teri
!” As complete silence fell all around them, the color drained from Jason’s slender face and he realized he was gawking at his daughter just like the other patrons of the restaurant. At last, Celeste took a deep breath, leaned back, gave her father a wide, charming smile, and said sweetly, “I’m a
very
lucky girl.”

2

“Frozen margarita, piña colada, brandy Alexander,” the waiter repeated to the three women sitting near the stage at Club Rendezvous.

“And I want
three
cherries with the piña colada,” Teresa Farr said, raising her voice above the music of the live band.

The waiter looked at her in feigned shock. “An extra cherry? Miss Farr, do you want to break the club’s budget this month?”

“I’ll pay for the third cherry.”

“Okay, it’s your money,” the waiter sighed as if in despair. Then he winked at Teresa. “Be right back, ladies.”

The woman with layered strawberry blond hair sitting next to Teresa gave her a nudge. “He winked at you, Teri. And he’s
cute.

“He’s also barely old enough to be working here, Sharon.” Teresa laughed at her sister-in-law. Teri tucked long, silky black hair behind her ears to expose large silver hoops and adjusted a shimmering silver tank top she wore with black slacks. “He took three lessons right after I started the riding school, but he was too scared to continue. I never date guys who are afraid of horses.”

“You never date at all anymore,” said the third woman at the table, Carmen, the eldest. She had high cheekbones, a narrow nose, smoky blue-gray eyes, and shoulder-length brown hair enhanced by bronze highlights. Teresa knew that in Carmen’s late teens and early twenties she had modeled. “Just catalogue stuff,” she always said dismissively. “I never made it in the couture lines—I was a couple of inches too short for industry standards.” “We’re celebrating your twenty-sixth birthday, Teri,” she now teased. “Have you already sworn off men?”

“No, Carmen, I’ve just been busy getting the riding school started, but I could ask you the same question. Have
you
sworn off men?”

Carmen laughed. “I’m twenty years older than you.”

“And you look about ten years older.”

Carmen rolled her eyes. “I wish. Anyway, I get credit for having been married. I’m a widow and I’m expected to spend the rest of my life alone, being the sedate woman I am.”

“Sedate!”
Teri laughed. “Good heavens, you’re anything except sedate, Carmen. You’re lively, upbeat, fun—that’s why you were such a wonderful friend for my mother. And if you don’t realize you
are
still quite the stunner, then you didn’t notice how many men were looking at you with lust in their eyes when you walked in.”

Carmen grinned. “I think you need glasses.”

“I have twenty-twenty vision. Seriously, though, you’ve been a widow for nine years and you’ve hardly dated anyone, at least that I know of.”

“Anyone that you
know
of.” Carmen’s eyes twinkled. “Besides, I like being strong and independent, like you, Teri.”

“Don’t count Teresa out of the game so soon, Carmen,” interrupted Sharon, who always seemed preoccupied with finding a husband for Teresa. Her own life revolved around her husband—Teresa’s brother, Kent—and their son, Daniel, who had Sharon’s heart-shaped face, short nose, velvety brown eyes, and spattering of freckles. “And Teri, you can’t possibly believe Carmen has given up on men. I’m sure there’s
someone.
In fact, I know there is.”

Carmen raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at Sharon. “Oh really? And who is this mystery man?”

“Does the name Herman Riggs ring a bell?”

“Oh, God,” Carmen moaned. “
Him?
He’s history.”

Teresa pretended to look horrified. “Carmen, you only had a few dates with him and you’ve already dumped him like a hot potato? You didn’t even give the poor guy a chance!”

“That’s because the ‘poor guy’ still lives with his mother, talks about her constantly, and on our third date was terribly excited because she’d promised to teach him how to knit a sweater.” Teri and Sharon burst into laughter. “If I ever say the marriage vows again, I think I can do better than Herman.”

Teresa looked regretful. “I guess Herman will have to look elsewhere for his true love.”

“He’s already found her,” Carmen said dourly. “His mother.”

The three women were laughing as the waiter came back with their drinks, pointing out to Teresa that he’d given her
four
cherries, but she was forbidden to mention this largesse to his boss or he’d be fired immediately. “I don’t think you’ll get in trouble if the extra cherries are for Teresa,” Carmen assured him. “The owner of Club Rendezvous used to be engaged to Teri until she ended things and broke his heart. He’s still pining for her.”

“No kidding!” the young waiter burst out. “Mr. MacKenzie is in love with Miss Farr?”

Teresa’s slender face reddened beneath the tawny skin she owed to her Shawnee heritage. “No, he is not. We were involved a
long
time ago.” She glared at Carmen. “I’d appreciate you lowering your voice. Half of the people in here now know Mac and I were engaged.”

“Half of the people in here already knew it.” Carmen grinned as their waiter hurried away, clearly eager to spread the hot news flash to other young waiters and waitresses rushing back and forth to the bar.

Teresa watched the quick verbal exchanges, then the furtive glances thrown her way. “Now look what you’ve done!”

“I’m only telling the truth,” Carmen said innocently, winking at Sharon. “Aren’t I?”

“Yes.” Sharon was smiling and looking uncomfortable at the same time. Her posture had stiffened and the lightness left her voice. “Kent doesn’t like people talking about it, though.”

“Well, they were engaged and even if Teri gave
him
the heave-ho, I don’t think she’s as blasé about Mac as she pretends to be.”

“You really should write a column for the lovelorn, Carmen.” Teresa picked up her cherry-laden drink. “I’ll speak to the newspaper editor on Monday morning about hiring you.”

“Good,” Carmen replied jauntily. “I’m sick of working at Trinkets and Treasures. As you pointed out, I’m not at all sedate. I’m
far
too lively to own and manage a gift shop. It’s boring.”

“Mac and I were engaged
ages
ago,” Teri went on relentlessly, taking a gulp of her drink. “I was twenty. Just a kid, really, and extremely romantic and impressionable. It was a passing fancy. A crush. I never even think about Mac anymore. Not at
all.
And I’m absolutely sure he never thinks about me.”

“Is that so?” Carmen slanted a look at Mac. “Well, for someone who never thinks about you, he certainly has his gaze locked on you tonight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Carmen.”

“I’m telling you, he’s been wandering around the bar, ostensibly talking to customers but really staring at you all evening,” Carmen went on, then smiled in satisfaction. “And now he’s finally headed this way.”

“Oh no!” Teri exclaimed.

“Oh
yes
!” Carmen touched Teresa’s hand. “Put your drink down. You’ve drained the glass dry. And don’t look so flustered.”

“I’m
not
flustered.” Teresa banged down the glass on the table. “Why would I be flustered? I’m just—”

“Good evening, ladies.” The man stood casually beside them. He looked about thirty, with sun-warmed skin, a dimple in his chin, and a few horizontal lines in the forehead below his slightly wavy mahogany brown hair. His drop-dead grin flashed over all three while his hazel eyes with their intriguing flecks of gold fastened on Teresa. “Enjoying yourselves?”

“It’s my birthday,” Teresa blurted out.

“And you’re not having a traditional party with your relatives and close friends?”

“We did the traditional stuff earlier,” Carmen told him. “Then we got rid of everyone, left Kent to babysit his son, and came out to have some real fun.”

“I’m glad you think coming to Club Rendezvous is fun, Ms. Norris,” Mac said.

“Please, it’s Carmen. And I—we—love this place. Don’t we, Teri?”

“Uh, yes. It’s… nice.” Teresa felt color warming her face and she almost knocked over her near-empty glass. Damn, she thought as she caught it just in time. Why was she acting like a teenager? And why did Mac still have that devastating dimpled smile that used to set her heart pounding? “The club is quite pleasant,” she added.

“That’s a ringing endorsement, Teri,” Mac said dryly. He looked at Sharon. “I haven’t seen you for ages. The club opened eight months ago and you and Kent have never been here.”

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