Let Me Count The Ways (21 page)

I’d made it as far as the coast before it dawned on me I didn’t know where the hell I was going.

Not to work. I’d told already told them not to expect me until Monday. I couldn’t show up before then without having to answer a lot of awkward questions that I’d rather avoid.

And not home, either. I hadn’t liked it all that much in the first place. Now that I’d seen it through Mike’s eyes, I despised it. Besides, he knew where I lived. There was nothing going to stop him from showing up there if he wanted. Nothing to stop him from making another painful scene, from running through the same fruitless argument with me over and over again until I gave up or gave in or did something stupid. Something I’d regret. Something that could only end up hurting us both in the long run.

I just wasn’t up for that kind of pain.

Digging my cell phone out of my bag, I dialed the number of my favorite spa and breathed a prayer of thanks when they told me they had a vacancy. I hung up, turned the phone off, and tossed it back in my bag. Then I turned left and headed south.

I’d give myself two days to disappear, to relax, to breathe. Two days to put myself back together.

And if that didn’t work? Then at least I’d have two days to think of something else.

By Monday morning, I was feeling about a thousand percent better. Traffic was brutal on the drive back into the city and there seemed to be more than the usual quota of helicopters aloft. I was still feeling a little out of sorts, but at least my mind was much, much clearer--which was more than I could say for the air. The sky was hazy and brown along the horizon, a shade you rarely ever see this far west of San Bernardino.

I didn’t reach The Body Electric until shortly after noon. I found most of my staff gathered around the small TV at the receptionist’s desk. It was only then that I learned about the brush fire raging out of control.

“...almost a thousand acres already burning,”
the grim-faced newscaster was saying.
“...several houses have been destroyed and dozens more are in danger... authorities say area residents have been evacuated from Topanga Canyon and the neighboring communities of...”.

“Topanga Canyon?” I asked, feeling suddenly light-headed. “When did it start?”

“Yesterday, I think,” Damien replied with a shrug. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it. It’s been on the news all day.”

But I hadn’t been listening to the news. I’d been playing CDs on the drive in this morning, trying desperately to hold onto the serenity I’d spent two days working to find. Trying desperately not to think.

Just as now, I was trying desperately not to panic.

“Excuse me,” I murmured as I headed up to my office. My hands were once again shaking as I dialed the number for Mike’s office.

His secretary was somber but unhelpful. Mike wasn’t in. The phone lines were down in the canyon and he wasn’t answering his cell. They had no idea where he was, how he was. No one there had seen or heard anything from him since he’d left work Friday night.

I hung up the phone feeling cold and frightened. Feeling more alone than I could ever remember being.

Suddenly all the things I’d been so afraid of, all my petty, personal, everyday concerns, seemed monumentally unimportant. And my choices lately, the supposedly clear-headed decisions that I’d spent the past two days congratulating myself on making, seemed a twisted joke, a huge mistake, an absolute, total lie.

I’d convinced myself I was okay with losing Mike. If someone had to be hurt, why did it have to be me? Why couldn’t someone else take the hit--just once? Better to hurt him now and lose his friendship than to lose my heart once again; or my peace of mind, my hard-won serenity. Or any more of my money. But maybe that was only because I didn’t think I had--or even could--ever
really
lose him.

Until now.

Unable to sit still and do nothing, unable to work, I wandered back downstairs. I was still carrying my keys and my purse, I was still wearing my sunglasses atop my head. My stomach roiled, my skin felt cold. Unable to think, unable to settle down, I gravitated back to the TV, hoping for better news. But it seemed the situation had only gotten worse in the past few minutes.

“Hey,” Derek greeted me quietly, coming up behind me, radiating concern, comfort and support as he gently massaged my neck. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.” I turned my head to look at him. He was beautiful. Tall, fit, gorgeous face, gorgeous body--any woman’s dream.

“Anything I can do to help?”

I shook my head. “No. Nothing.”

He gave my shoulders a final squeeze. “Okay, well, if you think of anything, you’ll let me know. All right?”

I nodded, tried to smile. “Thanks, I will.” But we both knew there was nothing that he, or anyone else, could do to help.

Derek and I were friends. What I felt for Mike was something else entirely. And it had taken something like this; it had taken being faced with the possibility that he might be hurt, might be injured, might be dead to make me see that.

Fear tore up my insides with razor-sharp claws as I stood there, staring at the screen.
No. Not dead. He can’t be.

“I have to go,” I said, my voice shaky and dull as I turned away from the desk and headed blindly for the door. I couldn’t stay here and wonder. I couldn’t stay here and hope. I couldn’t stay here and wait to hear... something.

I’d been wrong. I’d been stupid. And I had no idea if I could ever fix things, ever make things right. Maybe I’d never even get the chance to try.

“Hey, where are you going?” A voice called out behind me. “Claire?”

But I didn’t answer. What would I have said?

I’m going to hell
.

That seemed like a good explanation and a real possibility. Either in this life or the next, I certainly deserved to suffer a stint in hell for my sins, for my lies, for my stupidity. For my cowardice.

I’d tried to save myself. I’d tried to hide from the truth, and look where it had gotten me. Now, my only hope lay in trying to face it.

Claire

The wind had picked up by the time I was back on the road--or maybe I just hadn’t noticed it earlier. The air was hot and dry. The sky was definitely darker. Huge, angry, bruise-colored clouds billowed and swelled to the north of the city, to the west, straight ahead. The sun was a flat, orange disc in the dull, bronze sky.

I didn’t really have a clear idea where I as headed, or what I’d find when I got there. But, as close to the canyon as I could safely get
had
to be the best place to search for either Mike or information about him. There had to be someone who knew where the evacuated residents might be gathered.

I got to the point where traffic was stalled and cars were being turned back much sooner than I’d expected. I had to park my car and walk to get closer, cursing my poor choice in footwear. Who knew, when I’d got up this morning, that I’d be hiking through weeds and gravel?

I wasn’t the only one either. It seemed like dozens of other people were making the same trek, singly or in small groups. Their faces either grim or urgent, most appeared concerned, some merely curious. Their voices were hushed--or maybe it just seemed that way due to the buffeting wind, the din of helicopters overhead, the crackle of radios and static. No sirens though. Apparently all the fire-trucks available were already on the scene.

Badly parked cars were scattered along both sides of the road here. Despite the heat that poured from their shiny glass and metal surfaces, I felt cold inside, chilled to the bone. Even if Mike was here, how would I ever find him? Between the crowds and the confusion, the noise and the smoke, I could pass within feet of him and never even know it. The air itself was dark, heavy and thick with ash. It was hard to breathe, hard to see through. The tightness in my chest and the watering of my eyes made it harder still.

LA is a strange place at the best of times, but today it seemed absolutely surreal. Being a celebrity in LA can leave you with a sense of entitlement, can make you think you’re invulnerable. That you can do no wrong. Like ambassadors to the community, we expect to receive special treatment, special favors, a certain amount of immunity. Most of the time we get it, too.

This, however, was clearly
not
one of those times. At least not as far as the police officers whose job it was to keep people out of the canyon were concerned. When I reached the final barricade--still miles away from the fire, still acres away from where Mike might be trapped--I was stopped. Just like everyone else.

Oh, I tried everything I could think of to get information from them. I tried begging, crying, cajoling, reasoning, demanding, threatening, name dropping, all to no avail.

A sensible person might have let it go at that point, but I couldn’t. I had to know. I had to know now.
What next,
I wondered, as I paused for breath.
Do I start shedding clothes, try to bribe them, or what?
Suddenly, a hand was clamped firmly down on my shoulder. I shrieked in surprise as I found myself being spun roughly around, and then started to cough on a lungful of smoke.

“Claire, what the hell are you up to?” Mike barked at me angrily. “Have you lost your mind? Why are you here?”

“Mike.” Relief washed over me in great, warm waves and made me dizzy. Or maybe it was his handling of me that had done that, or the lack of breathable air. I didn’t care. I didn’t even think about being angry with him for his callous treatment. I drank in the sight of him and felt myself start to shake as reaction set in. He looked so good despite the sooty streaks that marked his jeans and polo shirt. And not dead! Not even injured! Only angry--as if I cared anything about
that
.

I started to sway and reached a hand toward him, hoping to steady myself, but he flinched away from my touch. Muscles freezing in response to his rejection, I stared at him, stricken. Okay, maybe I did care after all. The look on his face was arctic.

“I asked you a question, goddamn it,” he growled

He’d asked three, actually, but who was counting? And, anyway, I’d started coughing again and couldn’t answer.

“Folks, I’m not gonna tell you again,” the police officer nearest us warned. “If you don’t clear this area...”

“We’re going,” Mike snapped, taking hold of my arm and hauling me away. “I don’t believe you,” he muttered, scowling furiously. “Why were you arguing with those cops? Aren’t they busy enough already? What the hell are you even doing here?”

I tripped on a rock, stubbed my toe and abruptly lost my temper. Pulling my arm from his grasp, I scowled back at him. “Well, that’s a stupid question, Mike. Why do you think I’m here? I was looking for you!”

“Looking for me? Oh, that’s just--Shit, that’s just perfect.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. You’re not gonna tell me you’ve been out here all along? You weren’t here last night, were you?”

I shook my head. “No. What are you talking about? I only heard about the fire when I got to work today. No one knew where you were. I had to come see that you were okay. I was worried.”

“Go home, Claire,” he said, sounding exhausted. “There’s nothing for you to do here.”

“Okay.” Well, that was fine with me. Now that I’d found him, I had no reason to stay. “Let’s go.”

“Stop it,” he snapped. “No more games. I’m not going anywhere and you know it.”

“Then neither am I.” I dug in my heels. “If you stay, I stay.”

“Not a chance. It’s too dangerous. Now get the hell out of here before I really lose my temper.”

I shrugged. “Go ahead and lose it. You think I haven’t seen a man get mad before? Besides, if it’s that dangerous, neither of us should be here.”

“I have
a reason
to be here!”

I nodded. “I know. So do I.”

He looked at me for a moment then shrugged. “Whatever.” Turning away, he headed down the road to where the cars were parked.

“Wait,” I protested hurrying to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my car,” he called over his shoulder. “There’s no telling how long we’ll be here and I can’t see the sense in just standing around all day, can you?”

I shook my head. “Not with all this smoke and heat.”

“Well, don’t expect it to be any better in here,” he cautioned as he held the passenger door open for me. “You really should leave, you know.”

I ignored that. “At least you still have your car,” I blurted without really thinking.

He looked at me, surprised. “My car?”

I nodded. “That’s something, isn’t it? I mean, I know how much you love your house--and it’s a beautiful house, Mike, really. But, look, you haven’t lost everything and it’s just stuff. It can be replaced.”

“Not everything can,” he said quietly, sounding so bitter it made my heart ache.

“But you can rebuild. If it’s even damaged--and it might be fine, you know. But, either way, you’re strong. I know you. You won’t end up like me, giving up and settling. And you know what? You’ll probably make it even better than it was before. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

An impossibly sad smile curved Mike’s lips. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked softly.

I looked at him, blankly. “No. Like what?”

“Zoe. I think I might have a little trouble replacing her.”

“Z-Zoe?” I stuttered as the bottom dropped out of my stomach and once again I felt like throwing up. “Are, are you telling me sh--she’s...? No. You mean you...no. No!”

Mike nodded, looking wretched.

“Why?” I wailed, tears welling up in my eyes as I thought about it. “How could you? Why would you leave her behind like that, Mike?”

“I didn’t leave her behind,” he snapped. “Not intentionally. I wasn’t home when the fire broke out and by the time I got back here they’d already started evacuating people and they wouldn’t let me in.” He glared at me coldly. “Obviously, if I’d known ahead of time there was going to be a fire, or if I’d been there when it started, I’d have taken her with me when I left. But I haven’t been home since Saturday. I’d have had to be a psychic to know she wouldn’t be safe there when I left her. Clearly, I’m not.”