Riptide (22 page)

T
he air inside the Cardiff living room was so still and so heavy it felt as if the barometric pressure were falling through the floor.

Dan came in from the storm, jet hair soaked with rain and clinging to the sides of his head. His dark suit, puckered with raindrops, was obviously a loaner. His gaze swept the room and landed on Christina. He gave an apologetic smile. “I got here as soon as I could.”

As though she had asked him to come, which she hadn’t. For all the times Christina had wanted out of her marriage, she had never imagined this. Helpless, she watched Dan cross the room and plant a kiss on her cheek.

He let his lips linger a moment too long.

Christina shrank back.

“You okay?” Matt Wallace slid a hand protectively under Christina’s arm.

“She’s fine,” Dan answered, reaching for Christina’s other arm.

Christina felt like the rope in a tug-of-war. She was grateful when Daniel Cunningham let go and swung around to face Matt Wallace head-on. “I’m sorry.” His voice was still overloud. “Have we met?”

Ignoring the question, Matt introduced himself.

Dan pumped Matt’s hand too hard. He looked at Christina. “Have I met him before?”

Christina wanted to die. At a backyard barbecue, spoken by a husband to his wife, the question would have been friendly.

Matt Wallace’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t think so.” Christina tried not to sound simpering and failed.

Daniel refused to let the moment pass. “Has he been to the house?”

It was another husband-to-wife question, and it hit home.

“Dear God.” Pamela Cardiff Lofting popped straight up from her tiny black shoes. Raising the back of one small hand to her forehead, she staggered off to the staircase.

Nobody made any attempt to stop her.

Biz Brooks, who seemed the type that soaked up other people’s excess emotion like a sponge, looked ready to faint. She rallied, though, directing a question at Dan. “Is that your car?”

The look on Dan’s face was that of a man who has just stepped in something he knows will be tough to scrape from the bottom of his shoe. “What?”

The air felt heavy.

“I was wondering about the car you’re driving,” Biz said slowly. “It sounds like it needs a new muffler.”

Dan rolled his shoulders back. “Yeah?”

“I mean, I was just wondering about, um, if you’re happy with it.” The color rose in Biz’s cheeks.

But Christina had the feeling she wasn’t wondering whether Dan was happy with his car or not.

Biz cleared her throat. “Because I’m kind of shopping around for a new car, and I was thinking of getting one just like it.”

Not likely, considering Biz had pulled up earlier behind the wheel of next year’s 700 series BMW.

Dan stared. “Really?”

“Yes, um, you know, I was wondering if you’d recommend it. You know, in spite of the, um, problem with the muffler and all.”

Dan continued to stare at her.

It was rude. “Dan,” Christina said, trying to break up the tension, “I’m not sure you’ve met Biz Brooks, my neighbor.”

“You live there.” Danny motioned with his chin to the privet hedge on the landside that separated the two houses. He stopped short of adding alone, but the word dangled like a loose power line.

“With my dog,” Biz said.

“The one that barks all the time.”

Biz Brooks had a way of keeping her gaze level, and she did so now. “He’s a good watchdog.”

Dan started tapping his foot, and somehow it was very noticeable even though they were standing on a wool rug. Christina searched for something, anything to make this strange little moment pass.

“I’ve seen that dog,” Dan said at last.

Biz nodded. Clearing her throat, she shifted gears and went with the only safe bet remaining in the room. “Lois, can I get you some hot tea?”

“I’d love some,” Lois said from the couch.

“Great.” Biz headed off to the kitchen.

Which left Christina alone with Dan and Matt Wallace.

“So, how do you know Christina?”

The question was phrased like a challenge. Dan’s lips were curled in a tiny, controlled smile.

Frowning, Christina laid a hand on Dan’s arm.

His muscles were coiled and tight inside his suit jacket.

Ready to spring.

He flexed his hands open and closed, open and closed.

“Friends of friends, from a while back,” Matt said, keeping his tone mild.

But he had straightened up to his full height, Christina noticed, reminding her of the fact that he had played football in college. Despite the fact he had two inches and at least fifteen pounds on Daniel Cunningham, it was clear who had the upper hand, physically.

There was nothing relaxed about Daniel Cunningham, ever. He had a narrow frame, but it was coiled like a cougar, ready to pounce.

Dan’s eyes narrowed. “Is that right?”

Christina prayed something would happen, and it did.

Young Jake, who had been watching all this from the couch, got up now and walked over. “I don’t believe this,” he said, stretching out his hand with a big grin. “Danny Cisco.”

Dan stared.

Nonplussed, Jake held his hand out. “Man, I can’t believe you’re here. I figured you were dead or behind bars.”

Dan said nothing.

Still grinning widely with his hand outstretched, Jake tried again. “Just kidding, man. I didn’t mean that the
way it sounded.” He glanced at Matt, his AA mentor, for reassurance. “Hey, D.C., I’m glad you’re here.”

Daniel Cunningham said nothing.

Jake’s grin faded as a tinge of pink began to work its way up his cheeks and across his forehead to where his rooster comb up do began. “Don’t you remember me? Jake Warren from Deer Park.” He named a hardscrabble town in western Suffolk that was better known for factories than shoreline. “I used to see you around, got into the same scene you did.” He gave a nervous laugh. “I know you. You’re Danny Cisco.”

“We’ve never met.” The only thing moving on Cisco’s head were the tiny muscles just below his ears that worked his jaw. He shook his head. “I’m Daniel Cunningham.”

Jake frowned. “Danny, it’s me. Jake Warren. From Deer Park.” He looked from Matt Wallace to Christina and back to Danny Cisco. “Same as you.”

“You must have me confused with someone else,” Danny Cisco said firmly.

The room was quiet except for rain lashing the windows.

Everyone looked at Christina, who felt her nerves stretching thin like rubber bands about to snap. “This is Daniel Cunningham,” she said at last. “He did some work for us earlier this summer. He’s ah, our friend.”

The man known as both Danny Cisco and Daniel Cunningham smiled.

“Wow.” Jake looked ready to say more, but Danny Cisco cut him off.

“Excuse me,” he said, draping his arm across Christina’s shoulder.

She fought the urge to shrug it off.

“I’m going to fix myself a drink,” he continued. “Anybody else want one?”

He raised an eyebrow at the round of no’s, repeating the offer to Christina. “How ’bout some Grey Goose on the rocks?”

Christina tried not to flinch. “I’m okay,” she said quietly.

Danny raised an eyebrow.

“None for me,” she repeated, miserable now. “I’m good.”

Matt Wallace and Jake exchanged glances when Danny finally headed for the kitchen.

“That’s odd.” Jake frowned. “I know him. From places where you don’t forget how you know people. Know what I mean?” He directed his question at Matt, who winked.

“Gotcha,” Matt replied.

Christina glared at Jake. “He’s from West Palm. He did some work for us early this summer.” Jake couldn’t be right, could he? That would make Dan a liar. “His name is Daniel Cunningham.”

Jake’s cheeks were now the same carrot shade as his hair. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down on his skinny throat. “I’m sorry, Christina, I don’t want to make things any tougher for you today than they already are.” He surprised her with a hug that was brief and fierce.

It was something Tyler would do. Christina blinked back tears even though she had no idea why she felt like crying.

“I think,” Matt said slowly, “it’s time for us to go.”

Jake nodded. “Hang in there, Christina. I hope things turn out good for you and your son.”

Christina shook the hand he offered, but was taken aback by his next words. “Keep good people around you, Christina, only good people.” He gave her hand a final squeeze, directing his next words at Matt. “I’ll catch up with you outside. I have something I need to do.”

Matt nodded. “Go for it.”

Jake headed for the kitchen.

Daniel was in there, fixing himself a drink. Christina frowned. “What’s that about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt replied.

He obviously didn’t know how short Danny’s temper was. “If he needs to talk to Dan, I should go with him,” Christina began.

“Nope.” Matt grinned. “Jake’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.” He lowered his voice. “Jake is probably doing a ninth step with Danny.” He saw Christina’s quizzical look. “He’s making amends. It’s one of the twelve steps from AA.”

“Oh.” Christina learned in rehab that AA members needed to perform twelve steps in order to stay sober. The first step was admitting they needed to quit drinking. The twelfth step called for members to help other alcoholics any way they could. She couldn’t remember any of the others. She looked toward the kitchen, scared. “What do you think Jake’s doing?”

“Probably apologizing,” Matt said cheerfully. “My guess is Jake screwed Danny in a drug deal. I’ve heard him mention names from Deer Park. One of them is Danny Cisco.”

Christina shook her head. “His name is Daniel Cunningham.” It was beginning to sound like a lie.

“Whoever he is, he’s about to hear Jake’s amends.” Matt smiled.

Christina frowned. “What?”

“His amends. If Jake wants to stay clean and sober, he has to set right his wrongs from the past. By Jake’s own account, he did some bad things.” Matt shrugged. “Deer Park’s a rough town.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Christina replied crisply. She’d heard enough about weird AA rituals for one day. Her nerves were shot. And she was still trying to figure whether to believe Jake or Daniel or Danny, if that was what his real name was.

Christina was beginning to have her doubts. She had never really believed Danny’s story that he had grown up in West Palm, the only child of a homemaker and a CPA. Or that he had dropped out of the University of Miami to care for them when they both developed Alzheimer’s. He didn’t have a Florida accent, for one thing. And he barely knew how to swim.

Matt Wallace didn’t argue. He flashed a smile instead. “You have a lot to think about.”

“I guess I do,” Christina said slowly.

“I’ll let you get to it.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket.

Christina’s eyes widened in surprise. She was used to people arguing with her, not giving her space to think things through. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m not going far.” He winked. “Just to Hampton Bays. I have a law office there.”

It was the one bright spot in this awful day. Christina smiled. “Good for you. Sounds like all your dreams have come true.”

Matt grinned. “Most of them.”

A tiny flutter of hope took flight inside her. She didn’t have the nerve to ask if he had someone special in his life.

“Guess what? Dreams come true.”

By the look on his face, she could tell he believed what he was saying. “I guess,” she said heavily.

“It’s your turn now.”

Christina couldn’t hold back a short, brittle laugh. “Yeah, right.” She sounded like her teenage son, having a bad day, and she knew it.

“Just you wait, Christina.” Matt grabbed her shoulder and squeezed, earnest now. “It’s your turn now.”

He must be good in front of a jury, she thought.

“Recovering alcoholics like us get a chance to start life over any day we choose. Other people don’t get that opportunity,” he said. “That’s a miracle for a former drunk like me.”

Looking at him now, handsome and clean-cut and happy, talking about miracles, Christina almost believed him. Almost. “Well,” she said at last, “I could use a miracle right about now.”

Grinning, Matt gave her shoulder one last squeeze. “Quit drinking. Trust God. Clean house.” Glancing around, he winked again. “I mean that figuratively, not literally, since I see you’ve got staff to do that.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “You know, when I was growing up I wished for a big house with staff to clean up after me. Now, I have those things. And look where they got me.” She hung her head and shrugged, miserable.

“Sounds like you’re already gaining a new perspective on life,” Matt observed.

When she snuck a look at his face, he was beaming at her like she was a star pupil. “So, that’s the miracle?”

“It’s a start,” Matt replied. “But you have some work to do.” He glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll leave you to it. Take it easy, Christina.”

A long, slow swell rolled through her stomach. Panic rising. She did not want him to leave. He was her rock.

Matt must have read the look on her face. “I’m glad we met again,” he said in a gentle voice. “You’re going through a rough time.”

She nodded, ready to tell him just how rough, but he didn’t wait to hear it.

He squeezed her shoulder instead. “You have a lot of things you need to sort out, Christina. I can’t help you with this. I know you can do it.” His voice dropped, low and husky. “I’ll be waiting.” The hug he gave her was fierce and his lips brushed her hair. “You have my number if things get really rough.” And then he let her go.

Moments later, Lois told her the same thing, giving Christina’s hand a firm good-bye squeeze for a woman her age. “This will pass, my dear, I promise you that.” Her blue eyes were lively. “I’ve buried three husbands, I should know.”

That was it. No admonitions not to drink or go to every meeting listed in the AA directory Lois had pressed into her hands after the meeting the other day. They simply left.

Biz Brooks followed suit, promising to drop by one day when things quieted down a bit. She glanced uneasily in the direction of the kitchen. “I mean, I’ll call in a few days and hopefully we can have lunch if you’re feeling up to it.”