Love Is in the Air (16 page)

Tiptoeing, she made her way to the bathroom. Carefully, Sal opened the medicine cabinet. Peeling off her shirt, she assessed her shoulder wound. In the mirror, it looked like just a red pucker against her russet skin. But its presence spoke such terror. So much terror that she squeezed her eyes shut as she grabbed the antiseptic.

The Betadine stung, but not as badly as the tears she kept at bay. All those men at the museum. The radio had reported eleven dead. No survivors. And the police were having a hard time understanding why entire collections had been destroyed with over twenty-seven million dollars in damage, but not a single item had actually been taken. Without burglary as a motive, the cops were at a loss as to why the hideous crime had been committed.

She could go to the police, but who would believe her?

And knowing Richard, if he heard her fantastical tale, no matter her assertion that she was telling the truth, he might commit her to a mental hospital for her own good.

Better to let Tyr’s secret stay secret.

Once she placed a crisp, white bandage over the wound, Sal pulled her nightgown from its hook. With a sigh, she donned the garment. Looking in the mirror, she was surprised to find herself appearing so normal. Except for the damp hair and dark circles, Sal didn’t look like she’d staked out a boathouse and been anteed up to a beast.

What didn’t kill you made you stronger, right? Sal snorted. Unlike what the Chick lit tried to convince you of, she didn’t feel the better for any of it.

Sal flicked off the light. Studying her tired features wasn’t going to give her any insight into Tyr’s betrayal. Traveling down the hallway, Sal noticed the computer in the den was on, but she ignored it. She knew it was her laptop trying to contact her, but she’d had enough. Just as he had left her to the beast’s vile attentions, Tyr was on his own.

Carefully she cracked open the bedroom door. Whisper-quiet, Sal made her way to the plush, pillow-top bed. The sun was just rising over the Golden Gate Bridge, flooding the room with a warm light. Any other day, she might have admired the view Richard paid over three million dollars for, but this morning, she just didn’t have it in her. She tugged the covers out from Richard’s grip.

“That took a while,” he murmured as he turned over.

“Got caught up in a trauma. Now go back to sleep.”

It wasn’t really a lie, now, was it?

Her head wasn’t even on the downy pillow before Richard’s arms enveloped her. The contact felt hot and uncomfortable. Sal realized that coming back to his place wasn’t the best idea. Her fiancé meant well, but his embrace felt smothering rather than comforting. Worse, Richard kissed the nape of her neck, then worked his way around to the hollow of her shoulder.

He didn’t know how much that motion made her skin crawl. How could he? She squirmed, but he must have thought it was in excitement as his hand slid down her thigh, heading inward.

Without thinking, Sal grabbed his wrist. “Don’t.”

“Too soon?”

Tears brimmed as she came close to cracking. How she wanted to tell him everything. Just let it all spill out, but how could she? Would he really be able to maintain professional detachment if she told him she was nearly raped by a beast, and the man whom she had come to think of as some sort of savior was planning on sitting there, watching?

Instead, Sal choked out, “I guess you were right… I’m not ready.”

She could see the disappointment register on her fiancé’s face. Was he going to mention the fact they hadn’t had sex since the engagement?

Richard lay back down, this time more casually draping his arm over her waist. Not invading her space, but letting her know he was there if she needed him. “There’s no timetable for these things. When you’re ready, you’ll be ready.”

With her fiancé being this loving and supportive, Sal wasn’t sure how she was going to tell him that she might never be ready.

CHAPTER 50

Sal awoke to the smell of egg white omelets and soy bacon. Her eyelids were still puffy and her legs still felt leaden, so she was surprised when she looked at the clock and found that it was nearly noon.

Crap! She was going to be late. The memorial was in a little over an hour. Scrambling, Sal searched through her drawer at the bottom of Richard’s dresser. Not a lot of selection, especially for a eulogy. The black skirt was a given, but she only had a choice of a pink or neon green top.

Neither felt very funeral friendly.

“You know that if you moved in, you’d have half the closet,” Richard said as he strolled into his closet that equaled almost half of her apartment’s square footage.

“Then what would you do with all your Armani?” she asked, really hoping she came off as playful rather than condescending.

Luckily, Richard chuckled. “That’s what the guest bedroom’s for.”

With a black suit slung over his shoulder, he moved in for a kiss, but she pretended to have trouble with the strap on her heels.

Even though she went through the motions of starting her day, Sal wanted nothing more than to crawl back inside that bed, or any bed, and sleep away the week. Maybe with enough sleep, she might be able to put the horror of Maria’s death, then Tyr’s betrayal, behind her. Maybe somewhere in there she could forget about the beast and his lurid tongue.

It wasn’t until Richard donned the suit’s jacket that Sal realized he meant to go to the funeral with her. A panic rose that nearly equaled what she felt for the beast. Sal felt too frail to experience Richard’s constricting presence.

She desperately tried to sound casual. “You know, this is a pretty small ceremony, and I’m sure you’re crammed with appointments, especially after canceling the last two days’ worth of—”

“My schedule is fine. I want to be there for you.”

“I know, but…”

As he buckled his belt, smoothing the fine Italian leather under the polished pewter, Richard faced her. “But?”

“I just…” Sal fidgeted with her skirt’s waistline. Without a shirt and only a bra covering her chest, she felt exposed. She wanted to cover up, but that felt equally awkward in front of her fiancé.

“It’s no secret amongst the staff that you and Maria were…”

“She was a human being, Sal. I want to grieve just like everyone else.”

Jesus, he was making this hard. Even on a day she wasn’t frazzled by near-death experiences, this conversation would have been difficult.

“But as you’ve said, funerals aren’t about the dead. They are for the living. In this particular case the staff of S.F. General.”

His lips frowned. “Are you saying you don’t want me to come?”

She lied again, convincing herself it was to protect his feelings. “Me? Yes. The rest of the staff, probably not so much.”

Richard straightened to his full height. Never a good sign. He was upset, but far too supportive to express it. He removed his jacket and tossed it onto the bed as he began unbuttoning his pressed shirt.

“If it’s what’s best for your co-workers.” Taking a deep breath, Richard’s tone changed—as if she hadn’t just insulted him to the core. “Afterward, why don’t you swing by? I’ll make some dinner. Have a nice evening in?”

Oh, how Sal wished he hadn’t brought up the subject of the evening. She hoped that they could cross this bridge later, over the phone. Not here. Not now. Not right after the whole funeral thing.

She strove for nonchalance as she inspected the pink and green shirts, trying to decide which was the less hideous option. “I was thinking…”

Richard frowned as he put his pewter cuff links back in the jewelry box.

“Why am I feeling like I’m going to like this even less than the news about the memorial service?”

“I just feel like I need some space.” As the frown reached his eyes, Sal hurried, “Just a little time on my own to regroup. You know.”

“Sal, this is not the time to isolate yourself from social interaction.”

He was using that tone again, the concerned therapist rather than the injured fiancé. Come to think of it, had she ever heard him really injured?

Had she ever heard that pained tone like Tyr had used last night? Had she ever seen Richard struggle to express himself?

This wasn’t about last night, though, or even Tyr. It was about her needing to be alone. Her look was sympathetic, but her tone firm.

“I need some alone time. To process. To grieve. I would think that if anyone would understand my desire, it would be you.”

Sal could see the annoyance on Richard’s face. She had just given him the type of situation he hated the most. A no-win scenario. He always encouraged her to speak her feelings and assert her needs. Richard couldn’t argue with her without violating his own advice. And Lord knew he didn’t want to be cast in any other light but considerate.

“Fine.” The word came out way more terse than usual. She could see him cringe. Again, the shrug as he walked to the kitchen. “I guess if you’re paying the apartment’s rent, you might as well get some benefit out of it.”

“Thanks for being so understanding,” she said sincerely.

But he didn’t answer, only a little wave over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hallway.

Sal ran her fingers through her hair. She thought that after telling Richard she had to be alone for a while, she would feel better. Liberated, or at the least relieved, but she wasn’t. Instead it just felt crappy to have wounded his ego like that. Had she lost the ability to make a right decision?

However, as she packed a few things in her overnight bag, her foul mood began to lift. She was sorry to hurt Richard, but her tiny, cramped apartment was sounding better and better. The toilet that needed an extra jiggle to flush. The bed with so many lumps that were perfectly molded to her body. It might not be much, but it was hers and hers alone.

Ready to go, she had only one decision left to make. Pink or green? For the briefest instant, Sal wondered if Praxis might be applied here. Could she will the shirt to change color into a muted gray or navy blue? Or was the more logical option just to throw on her sweat jacket and run into Marshall’s and buy something more appropriate?

“I’d recommend the pink,” Richard suggested from the doorway.

Sal looked the thin fabric up and down. The pink ruffle down the middle seemed way over the top. “I don’t know. It doesn’t look at all ‘funeral-y.’”

“No, but you can’t get more Hello Kitty than that.”

As he walked away, Sal realized that maybe Richard understood Maria more than she thought.

CHAPTER 51

Sal regretted her choice of heels as she ran down the street, flagging down the cable car. From the distinct, three long bell rings, two shorter notes, and then finishing off with a last warbling note, she knew that the car’s gripman was Lyle. Given that it was his seventh year running as the winner of the annual cable car bell-ringing contest, every stop was a musical interlude.

“Top of the morning!” he shouted from the rear of the vehicle.

She waved hello as she stepped up onto the running board. An elderly couple scooted over on the bench. “There’s plenty of room.”

Sal smiled, but shook her head. “I’m good out here.”

As she gripped the handle, the car lurched forward and picked up speed as they descended Nob Hill. It was selfish, but Sal hoped there weren’t any more pickups. She loved the feel of the wind in her hair as the car sped down the steep California Street. Where else could you ride on the outside of a moving vehicle?

So unless it was pounding rain, and even sometimes then, Sal rode on the sideboard, letting the city pour over her. The tip of the Transamerica Pyramid peeking through the skyscrapers. The Bay glistening in snatches down the intersections. Each ride served as a reminder of why she loved this City so much.

How many times had she and Maria hopped on the first car passing by? They never planned where to have dinner. They just let the cable car sweep them away, and when something caught their eye, they’d hop off and try out a new place. It was how they found the best chicken satay on Powell.

Granted, it was also how they got food poisoning at the sushi restaurant on Market Street, but hey, you couldn’t win them all.

Under the cloudless morning with the city bustling, the last few days, and especially nights, seemed unreal. Then her shoulder wound twinged as the car braked. No matter the city’s pristine façade this summer day, the beast still lurked. Could he sense her out of the dozens packed into the cable car? Could he be stalking her as she blithely traveled the city?

Shivering in the warm summer sun, Sal shoved any thoughts of the beast from her mind. She had a single intent today—to honor her friend. The beast, the Park, and even Tyr paled in comparison.

Sal pulled down on the cord to signal to the gripman that she needed off. A single chime acknowledged her request. If only her life were so orderly. The car stopped as Sal hopped off, giving a wave to Lyle. The wind kicked up her pink ruffles. The material fluttered, as if recognizing a moment of joy and taking full advantage of it. As she walked down the street, preparing to eulogize her best friend, Sal couldn’t help but smile.

The pink blouse was definitely the right choice.

CHAPTER 52

Sal headed down the long corridor toward the chapel. It wasn’t like she’d never been to the room before, but she honestly couldn’t remember what it looked like. Once in a great while, she might have to find a family member down there, but usually the circumstances were so stressful that she didn’t have time to note the interior design.

Heels clicking on the tile floor, Sal found whatever goodwill she had gained on the cable car evaporating. The antiseptic smell that she normally found soothing bit into her nostrils. The recycled, conditioned air felt heavy and stale. After the refreshing breeze outside, this place was akin to a crypt.

Sal slowed. At the end of the corridor were two wooden doors that stood in stark contrast to the sterile wash of gray all around. Two small crosses were cut out of the doors, and warm light streamed from the chapel into the cooler fluorescent hallway.

There should be no reason, no reason at all, that she was reluctant to enter the chapel. Just the same, she found her hand resting on the doorknob, reluctant to turn it.