Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series (31 page)

“Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” His eyes tightened. “Okay. You
crinkled your nose just now. That means you’re either trying to
avoid something you find awkward or you’re teasing.” His gaze
drifted back to my captive feet. He bent down, again. I held my
breath and tugged against him.

“Stop it,” he commanded. “Let me see what
you don’t want me to look at.” When he moved one arm to turn on a
lamp, I tried to take advantage, to no avail.

I was probably being ridiculous. The hairs
were tiny, very thin and blonde, almost transparent like the hair
on my arms. Not so bad, I supposed . . . but there were some things
a woman needed to keep private and he wanted to know
everything.

There was one, terrible gasp and I could
have died of embarrassment.

“I’ve married a hobbit!”

“Let go!” My cheeks burned as he burst out
laughing.

I worked one leg free, then the other, ready
to run away. At the same moment, he took the first from the floor.
I lost my balance and fell back onto the couch, on my stomach. “Let
go! Evan!”

“I can’t, my hands are tangled! You’re half
Sasquatch!”

Bursting giggles ruined my effort. I
continued my fight for freedom, though my cause was weakened
considerably.

“Caleb, help me!” Evan shouted to the back
door.

Once again, he had both my legs in the vise
of his arms and I was stuck. A muffled whisper commanded, and then
Caleb’s little hands touched my feet, trying to tickle me. He was
cheating.

“I’ll get you for this Caleb!” I vowed.
“Traitors!”

“Oh bloody hell,” The loud observation came
from the doorway to the formal living room.

“Marcus,” Evan called but there was no
answer. He dropped my legs and disappeared from underneath me.

The pleasant atmosphere changed once I
righted myself on the sofa. Looking at Marcus, his face was
strained and pale as he leaned against the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Evan stalked towards his
friend.

I grabbed Caleb before his attention shifted
and pulled him onto the couch, attacking him with tickles. Even
over the sounds of his laugh I was able to make out the grim
conversation.

“I’ve got to go home. My dad’s sick.”

“How bad?”

I turned towards their voices.

“Bad enough to send for me.” Marcus drew his
hand to his face and sighed again, more heavily than before. “I
don’t know what I’m to do. I thought I’d have time.”

I rushed to them. Touching Evan’s back, I
said, “What can we do, Marcus? Do you have your plane ticket yet?
Want me to make the reservation for you? We’ll help in any way we
can.”

“Make it for two,” Evan ordered. “I’m going
with you.”

My heart sank a little, but there was no
need to ask. He was Evan’s dearest friend. There was no way he was
letting him face this alone. I nodded and walked out to start
making the phone calls.

While waiting for a human to answer the
airlines’ 800 number, I sent Caleb to his room and told him to play
there until I came to get him. Noah was napping. Bored to sleep, I
assumed. Returning to the kitchen, I searched for a piece of paper
and pen to write the reservation numbers. Over the burble of the
recorded music, Evan and Marcus were arguing.

“I’ll make the time, Marcus, Grace will
understand.”

“Allowances don’t make it right, ya twit.
You have responsibilities. You’re not the only one to think of,
now.”

The operator answered and I made the
arrangements. I chose the first flight they had available and got
all the information for them to print the itinerary and tickets at
the airport.

Evan was grumbling as I stepped up into the
formal living room. “How did this become about me?”

“Marcus,” I held out the papers with the
information. “Here’s everything you need. I chose the chicken for
your in-flight meals. You have to be at the airport by five for
check-in.”

I looked longingly at Evan. “You should call
Sheri.” She was going to throw a fit.

“If there’s anything you need, you’d better
call.” Evan cleared his throat, looking sternly at his friend.

“You’re not going?”

His face softened when he stared down at me.
“No dear, Marcus prefers to go alone. His dad doesn’t like me much.
I would only irritate him.”

“It’s not because of me, is it?” I looked to
Marcus, “Because I understand.”

Evan touched my arm. “No—”

“No,” Marcus began wearily, “I just need to
go home.” He shoved the words out, halting, almost stuttering, like
the explanation was too much work.

I hugged him. “It will be alright. Do you
need help packing or canceling any appointments?”

“Actually, I was going to take Ev to his
driving practice this afternoon.”

“That’s the least of your worries,” I
assured him, wishing for a way to take away the pain in his voice.
“I could do it, or Sheri.” Evan had been working with a
professional to enhance his driving skills for a few scenes in the
film that was coming up.

Releasing Marcus, I looked to Evan,
expecting agreement, but found his brow was crumpled. His mouth was
turned down in a grimace. The pointed austerity was shocking,
sending a chill up my spine. “Go get the boys,” he commanded.
“They’ll want to say goodbye.”

What’s eating him?
I wondered, on my way down the hall.

In explaining that Marcus had to leave, it
was teary all the way around. We knew what Marcus was going through
and hated that he’d be doing it so far from us. He hugged everyone
and promised to come back as soon as he could. He’d call and e-mail
regularly. Noah quietly retreated as Marcus made his way out. He
and Evan were heading next door, where Marcus was just moving in.
His things were still in boxes. Now he was trading those boxes for
suitcases. The house would be empty again.

Both of them.

I used the time to call Sheri and asked her
to take Evan to his appointment. He could have driven himself, but
he would rather hide in the backseat behind tinted windows. She
happily agreed, citing the reason for her improved mood. Production
almost hit a standstill earlier when the female lead—Emily Black,
an up-and-coming actress—had to back out for personal reasons.
Everyone was scrambling, because Evan was already obligated to
another film—scheduled to go into production on the heels of this
one—but the heavens suddenly opened and birds were singing, because
producers had already replaced her with their second choice.
Shooting would commence as scheduled.

I gave her the rundown on what was happening
over here. Sheri seemed a tad upset for Marcus but not enough to
dim the bright of her excitement. Her crisis was over and she was
clearly relieved.

When she showed up an hour later, I gave her
the remote for the garage—to take to Evan, who was still next
door—assuming he’d need one for Marcus’ SUV since he’d undoubtedly
be driving it. Until tomorrow.

“I’ll be in my room.” It was too early for
bed, but I felt suddenly drained and couldn’t keep my eyes
open.

My eyes fluttered
open
when sleep was overpowered by invading cold. I
was curled in a ball on the far edge of the mattress while Evan, by
contrast, lay sprawling in the middle. He was lightly snoring,
wrapped up in all the blankets. I tucked my feet under his bottom
to keep warm and tried to pry the covers from him. He turned over,
taking the blanket with him.

“
Hog,” I mumbled. He responded with a
snore.

I was frustrated and shivering and wide
awake. The clock on the nightstand glowed. It was barely past
midnight. Only nine hours until he’d leave for the airport. I
curled behind him and held on tight.

In my gut, I knew everything would work out,
but I could not escape the feeling—an impression that seemed to
grow deeper with every passing second—that something bad was
looming ahead. The same sort of feeling I had before my trip to
Vegas. I thought, mistakenly, the undue feeling had something to do
with the way things played out, but this notion was far too
worrisome to be related.

I searched my heart for the root of it as
the tears streamed down, asking God to take care of Evan and begged
Him to help me understand what I was facing, if anything. Something
deep inside me said that I needed to stop worrying over things I
couldn’t control and to make the most of the moment.

I worked my feet under the tangled blanket
and into the center of his cocoon. I pressed myself against his
warm body, clinging tightly in the dark. He turned over, at my
urging, and our lips collided.

He took me in his arms for a long
moment, whispering in my ear. “How I wish you’d come with me.” His
breath caressed my neck, giving me goosebumps. “I’ll be thinking of
you every second,
mon seul
amour
.”

I held on a second longer, feeling his
fingers loosen their grip. The sensation aroused a maddening dread.
“Evan—”

“Yes?” He touched my cheek, looking deep
into my eyes. His appeared brown over his black jacket.

I couldn’t escape the feeling. It didn’t
help that Sheri was behind him, checking the time.

“I love you, please be f— . . . be careful.”
A different word almost slipped out—faithful—, and I wondered at
it.

“You sound almost cryptic.”

“I hate goodbyes,” I sniffed.

“It’s not ‘goodbye.’” He slipped on his
baseball cap and opened the front door. We’d promised to keep in
constant contact: talking, texting, emailing, and Skype. “It’s ‘see
you later.’ I will see you Friday.”

“It will hardly seem like we’re apart,” I
told him, trying to comfort us both. He was being sweet, with a
doubtful expression behind the smile. I knew better and he knew I
knew better. But he wouldn’t let his fears out. And I couldn’t,
either. Not when he had to leave. I settled for watching him make a
beeline for the car that was waiting to take him to the
airport.

“He’ll be fine. Trust me.” Sheri patted my
arm, awkwardly. “Evan tells me you want to go back to work?”

I watched Evan crawl smoothly into the back
seat and shut the door. “There’s an opening in post-op
cardiac.”

Sheri took in my glum expression. “Grace,
I’m going to tell you something that Evan won’t approve of.”

She looked out to the car and back to me
before closing the door. “You are the life he’s chosen; and while I
respect that, you must also understand the position he’s in. He’s
worked in this business since he was eighteen, slaved and
sacrificed to get where he is.”

She straightened her jacket, casually
spilling the information. “From his easy manner, one would never
know the far reaches of his influence. But I am telling you—there
is a reason they call him The King of Hollywood. For him, merely
speaking someone’s name improves their careers. Everyone wants to
work with him. I receive, daily, hundreds of offers from companies
begging him to use their products or mumble their name in an
interview, but he refuses to wield all that they lay, so willingly,
at his feet.”

My eyes grew wide, remembering Evan talking
about the amazing pressure he faced.

“He could make any movie. His name is money
in the bank to a lot of powerful people and it doesn’t matter to
him. He wants the one thing they can’t give—acclaim—and it’s only a
matter of time.” She popped open her black leather bag and handed
me a plain looking DVD. “This is a rough cut but it’s also his best
work. That’s for your eyes only. Guard it with your life.”

Through the jewel case the
title,
Triumph in the Sky,
was
written in black marker.

“This is what being his Queen means, Grace.
He works in places all over the world for extended periods of time
at an exorbitant rate. It’s a selfish, indulgent profession and
something you, the espoused, must get used to. The work is too
important and must be the priority.” She straightened the front of
her wool jacket over her pant suit and opened the front door.

“If you don’t mind my saying, I think you’re
in the right by keeping the kids settled here. He only works six
months out of the year. Just keep yourself busy; it will help the
time pass.” She offered a brief goodbye with a stiff smile.

I caught a glimpse of Evan as she maneuvered
into the car. His head was down, covered by his hat, and one elbow
was slung over the side of his face. When they drove off, a caravan
followed behind.

It was both amazing and pathetic how those
strangers seemed to know every move he made.

Keeping Up

It’s a cold, black night. The intermittent
moon sails across the sky.

Meanwhile, the muscles in my legs are
burning. My shoulder is screaming. My hands are bitten with cold. I
am in desperate need of rest.

My eyes strain to see through the dark,
squinting and searching for signs of movement. I can barely make
out shapes of shadows. The moon has hidden itself above the bank of
clouds. I’m much higher than I was. It’s been a while since I heard
anything moving behind me and hope to afford a break from the
merciless pace. Praying the cost it not too high, I turn back to
check the path I’ve trudged. The wind is pressing across the space,
shaking the small reflections of light on the low foliage in an
even, rhythmic pattern. A shift among the shrubs gets my attention.
It’s out of step with the breeze. Big and unnatural, with smooth
edges. A scream sticks in my throat as a black shape emerges near
the bare edge of my mound.

How?
Why is it
so difficult to disappear in the dark?

The shadows of surrounding trees blend
together beneath the dim light of the stars as I force myself to
move. The moon is high above, still covered in glowing haze. The
light is only enough for the sky tonight and I’m lost in the
shadows below.