When Libby Met the Fairies and her Whole Life Went Fae (27 page)

At least this time, she didn’t have anyone hunting for her.

She waited until she was well away from the house, just inside the boundary of Dean’s property, before she turned on her flashlight. Then she trained the beam on her compass. The way she figured it, if she kept to a southwest trajectory, she’d eventually hit his driveway, if not his cabin.

Her flashlight illuminated a tunnel of branches and leaves ahead of her.

By the time she’d gone fifteen feet she might as well have been on another planet.

She considered calling out to her little people. It was worth a try, right? Although she figured she should still keep her voice low, just in case. “Hey,” she said quietly. “If you guys are around, I could use a bit of help right now.”

Yeah. Right on cue, the who whooo, who who whoooo of a great horned owl somewhere behind her. Perfect. A little B-movie creepiness to make her journey even more pleasant.

She was walking through cobwebs, too. Late summer, there are spiders all over the place, and as soon as the sun sets they come out en masse, crisscrossing the forest with their creepy wispy little guy lines.

She wiped her face and shone the flashlight back down onto her compass. Then her watch. At this rate, she’d make Dean’s sometime around 4 a.m.

Something outside the reach of her flashlight beam made a high-pitched snarly noise and she froze, feeling her heart beat as she listened to whatever-it-was run off through the undergrowth.

This was a very stupid idea.

Good timing, Libby, to realize that now.

She climbed over some deadfall left from the spring’s ice storm and came to the edge of the first of three gullies she’d need to negotiate. She peered down, checking her options. The bank was frightfully steep. And she’d have to put her flashlight away so that she could hold onto tree branches with both hands.

On the other hand, coming to a gully was good news. It meant that she was headed in the right general direction at least.

♦ ♦ ♦

She said “general direction.” Give or take a few degrees. Meaning that, after an hour’s worth of nighttime bushwhacking . . . she came out on the road.

Some woodsman she’d turned out to be.

She stood on the berm, listening. Coast was clear.

At least she knew which direction to walk. And Dean’s driveway wasn’t far.

♦ ♦ ♦

Twenty minutes later, Libby stood beneath Dean’s loft window.

“Dean!”

Inside the cabin, Bo woofed.

A minute later the door opened and Dean stepped out. He was barefoot and wearing a white tee shirt, the sleeves tight over his biceps.

“I thought you might turn up,” he said. “Just not in the middle of the night.”

“Is she alright?”

“Yes, she’s fine.”

“What did you do to your face?” He was carrying a lantern and lifted it now as he touched the scratch across Libby’s left cheek.

Their eyes met.

“Ran into something,” she whispered.

His fingertips kept going when they reached the end of the scratch, brushing the side of her neck, and then his hand dropped down behind her and he pulled her in and put his mouth on hers.

A moment later she followed him indoors, and then she followed him up the ladder to his loft.

♦ ♦ ♦

If Maisey was surprised to see her aunt the next morning, she was admirably discreet. Just got up and poured a third mug of coffee.

And then the three sat down at the big wooden table in Dean’s kitchen and began a Talk. Only it quickly strayed off-topic.

“You shouldn’t have run away,” Libby said.

“I wasn’t running away. I just couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“That’s not—”

“Do you know what she said to me when I told her I was breaking up with Ty?”

“Who, your mom?”

“Yes. She said, ‘well about time. I was sure you were turning into another Libby. You don’t own him, you know. It’s about time you give Alex a turn.”

Libby nearly spit out her mouthful of coffee. “What did you just say?”

“She’s worried I’m turning into you.”

“No, the other bit. About Alex.”

“She said I should give Alex a turn. At Ty.”

“That’s an interesting choice of words,” said Dean.

“You’re telling me,” Libby said. She dropped her hands into her lap so Maisey and Dean wouldn’t be able to see that they were clenched into fists. Why was she so angry at Gina all of a sudden . . . granted, the woman was a fool. And that was a stunningly insensitive thing to say to her daughter, for sure. Libby should be outraged.

But this was something else. She was more than outraged . . . she was furious.

And then it hit her.

That choice of words.

Gina had said the same thing to Libby, once.

It came back in a flash. It was a couple of months after she’d first started dating Wallace . . . Gina had been acting so weird. So glad for Libby at first, about what a catch Wallace was, what a hunk he was. Then, quite frankly, she’d begun acting jealous. It was during the summer, Gina was home from college, and they’d had some argument about something completely different and suddenly Gina had said it. “You’ve had Wallace awhile now. You should give me a turn, Lib.”

It had struck Libby as so odd, she’d thought at first that Gina was trying to crack some kind of joke.

Libby looked up. Dean was studying her. She forced her attention back to what Maisey was saying. “. . . and then she and Alex show up when I told her to keep Alex away for awhile, you know, to give me and Ty some time . . . I just can’t stand it anymore.”

They sat in silence for a minute.

“You okay?”

Dean. Asking Libby .

“I’m fine . . . Look, Maisey, I see what you’re saying. But still, you had no business taking off like that, not telling anybody. Your mother—she can be a jerk, sometimes, but she was worried about you.”

“No, she wasn’t.” Maisey set her jaw. “And anyway, you’re running away from her, too.”

“No, I’m making a difficult decision.” Libby avoided both Maisey’s and Dean’s eyes this time. “Running away is taking the easy way out. I’m not taking the easy way out.”

“I’m not a minor child. And she’s not going back to Hawaii, you know. She’s staying here. Indefinitely. She wants you to go to Hawaii for her, to help her boyfriend with the pineapple thing.”

“I’m not going to Hawaii. I’m moving to Rochester. I’m—” Libby stopped herself. She’d been about to say, “moving in with Paul.”

She took a gulp of coffee to hide her blush. And to give herself something to do besides check to see if Dean was still watching her.

“Did you know she’s gotten quotes on putting in a Visitor’s Center?”

“Huh?”

“A Visitor’s Center. On your property.”

“You’re kidding me. And my body not even cold yet.”

Maisey didn’t get it, but Dean snorted appreciatively, and she allowed herself a quick glance. Bad idea. Made her blush again. He was awfully good-looking, that guy.

“Anyway, Dean says I can stay here for a few days. Then, I dunno. I’m thinking maybe Florida.”

“Why Florida?”

“I dunno. They don’t get snow.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea? What about college? You were thinking about college, weren’t you?”

She shrugged.

Libby took another sip of coffee.

“Maisey,” she said after a moment.

“Yeah.”

“You’re right. I am kind of running away.”

“Want to come to Florida with me?”

Libby shook her head and then she met Dean’s gaze full on. “But I don’t see what else I can do. I have two options, really. Even if I toss Gina out this morning, I still have a huge publicity mess. And she’s not going to quit, she’ll just work it from town. She sees it as her ticket, I guess—”

“It might be a bit deeper than that,” Dean said.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter what her motivations are. She’s not going to give it up. And I didn’t buy this place to be a media figure.”

“That’s pretty defeatist, isn’t it, Libby?”

She looked up, feeling a quick spark of temper. “It’s not defeatist to be realistic about things.”

“Realistic? You’ve convinced yourself you’re trapped.”

“I am trapped.”

“Only if you think you are.”

“You guys are fighting,” Maisey said. “I’m going for a walk. C’mon, Bo.”

“Of course we are,” Libby said. “That was an unhelpful thing for you to say, Dean.”

The screen door slammed behind Maisey.

“I’m only trying—”

“By insulting me?”

But she’d pushed it a bit too far, because he put his coffee mug down, hard, on the table and his next words were low and forceful. “I didn’t insult you. I made an observation. You know, this may surprise you, but I like you, and I’d like you to have what you want. I’d like you to be happy.”

“You want me to be happy? You want to do something for me?”

“That’s what I’m trying to say.”

“Fine. Here’s what you can do for me. Talk to your sister. And Tyler, too, while you’re at it.”

“Tyler?”

“Maisey loves him. And no offense, but Alex—”

“What about Alex?”

Libby gritted her teeth. Because who was she to throw stones? Her own sister, relatively speaking, made Alex look ripe for canonization. “I just think Tyler may be making a mistake, is all. And Lord knows my sister won’t intervene on Maisey’s behalf.” She glanced toward the door reflexively, but Maisey was well out of earshot, over by the edge of the clearing around the cabin.

“I don’t see what you want me to do. I’ll admit Alex can be a piece of work—”

“Well, then forget Alex. Talk to Ty. Have a man-to-man with him.”

“Men don’t have ‘man-to-mans.’ That’s a myth.”

Libby glared at him. “Is that right.”

“Look, Libby. I’ve been on the receiving end of that kind of BS—”

The Iranian princess.

“—and I’ll be damned if I’ll ever interfere that way in peoples’ lives.”

“I’m not asking you to break anyone up,” Libby said. Kind of on purpose, to test the Iranian princess hypothesis, and sure enough, his eyes flicked to hers for a split second. But it wasn’t enough to faze him.

“You’re asking me to tell a guy that he doesn’t know who he really loves,” he said.

“Forget it. Forget I asked.” She stood up and carried her mug to the sink. “I have to go. I have to get back before they miss me.”

Maisey had returned and the screen door slammed again. “You guys done? Oops, I guess not.”

“Look, Maisey, there’s something I need you to understand. I can’t cover for you. You need to tell your mom where you are.”

Maisey’s face crumpled.

“I have to do what’s right, Maisey.”

Dean caught up with Libby at the edge of the clearing around his cabin. And he was pretty angry.

“You know, you’ve got a funny idea of right and wrong, Libby Samson.”

“Do I? Because it seems pretty straight to me.”

“Yeah? Straight as mud. What exactly are your plans, Libby??”

“To go home.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you want to know? Whether I’ll sleep with you again sometime?”

“You think that’s what this is about? Sex?”

“Honestly, I have no idea what it’s about,” Libby said, her voice rising. “But I need to go home. Right now. So good-bye. Okay, Dean? Good-bye.”

There were brambles growing along the edge of the clearing and she felt them tear into her clothes as she forced herself through them and into the woods.

Dean didn’t follow her. Because life isn’t like the movies. Except maybe the part about how hard it is to see when you’re trying not to cry.

38

She didn’t need to know what Wallace was driving to know which one was his car. It was parked in the “Employees Only” slot closest to the dealership’s staff entrance. Silver, slung low to the ground, a two-door sports coup that was as close to the shape of money as a road-worthy vehicle can get.

Libby went into the showroom and when a portly guy in a sports jacket asked if he could help her, she told him she was there to see Wallace. He said he’d check to see if he was available, and a few moments later Wallace walked out, a fake smile pasted on his face.

“Libby! Nice to see you.”

“Yeah.” She kept her tone polite. “I have a quick question for you. Mind if we—”

He led her into one of the little rooms where they seat people to discuss their financing options.

“If this is about money, forget it, Libby. You signed the settlement, it’s over.”

“No. It’s not about money. I just need to know something.”