Books by Maggie Shayne (26 page)

No, all that had happened tonight had been a bit of overactive imagination. It wouldn’t do to overreact to this. Not at all. Just looking around her, she knew that she was fine. She looked around her old house to find everything in it just the same. The water spot on the living-room ceiling was still there. Richard had repaired the roof, so it no longer leaked, but he’d never got around to painting the ceiling. She’d have to do that. And the curving mahogany banister still gleamed. She and Richard had sanded off the old varnish and replaced it with several fresh coats. They’d done most of the woodwork in the house together. Except for that upstairs bathroom. She’d have to do that alone. Yes, everything seemed solid and real and just as it had been before. Nothing was distorted or hazy. None of the furniture was talking to her. She didn’t see eyes peering at her from the light fixtures.

She was fine.

The telephone shrilled, and she jumped to her feet so suddenly, she thought she’d pulled an abdominal muscle. Grating her teeth against a stream of cuss words, she frowned. Who’d be calling her at four in the morning?

Richard?

“Oh, for God’s sake, stop it!” She yelled at herself, but instead of her words sounding like a reprimand, she felt more like she was whistling past a graveyard. She snatched up the phone.

“Annie-girl?”

Annie-girl. It was Maria, Richard’s beautiful, blind mother, who’d given her that nickname when she’d been little more than a baby. No one else had ever called her Annie-girl… except Richard. Annie had always loved the way it sounded, flowing from Maria’s lips with a slight Spanish accent. Almost as much as she’d loved hearing Richard say it. Now, though, it sent a shiver up her spine.

“Maria, what in the world are you doing up so late? Are you sick? Is everything all right?”

“It’s Richard,” the soft, melodic voice told her. “He’s near, Annie. I feel him. He’s… he’s coming back. He’s coming back to us!”

“Heard you had a spell last night.”

Annie frowned hard at Harry Hayes, Otselic Valley High’s principal, and blinked away her surprise. He stood in the doorway of her classroom, leaning against the jamb, arms crossed over his barrel chest, trying for all the world to look as if it were a casual question. But she saw the real concern in his eyes. It was enough to make her forget to smile at the way the tilt of his head was just enough to make his bald spot reflect the gleam of the overhead lights.

She closed her textbook without slamming it and managed to keep her voice level. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

“The new guy—what’s-his-name—in Octagon House.”

“Bartholomew Cassius,” she filled in, banking the anger trying to surge through her. Bartholomew had likely meant well. He’d never deliberately do anything to hurt her.

Now, why in the world am I so sure of that
?

“He was worried,” Harry went on. “Said I ought to keep an eye on you.”

Eyes were already on her. Annie felt them as strongly as a physical touch, and when she turned, it was to see Sara Dawson sitting alone in the back row, staring at her. She hadn’t noticed her there before. Sara must have stayed behind when the others left at the sound of the bell. And now that Annie saw her, she was eager to get rid of Harry so she could talk to her. Something about the girl touched her, but Annie couldn’t put her finger on just what it was. For a second she stopped listening to Harry and just looked at Sara.

Her beautiful pale skin was in stark contrast with the dark birthmark on her neck, and even with her solemn dark eyes that met Annie’s and seemed to say that they knew.

Knew what, Annie wondered, frowning.

“So, are you okay?”

She snapped her attention back to Harry, feeling a little guilty for ignoring him. Since Richard had died, he’d been sweet to the point of being sickening. It wasn’t his fault she didn’t appreciate so much concern for her well-being. That she sensed hidden motives behind every seemingly kind gesture. To someone as sensitive as she’d become this past year, his concern felt more like an invasion of privacy.

“Fine,” she told him. “I’m fine.”

With a look that said he doubted it, one that had her wondering just what else Bartholomew had told him, Harry shrugged. “You’re sure? Dr. Cassius seemed to think—”

“Look, it was a dizzy spell. I blacked out for a few minutes. That’s all. Probably low blood sugar or something.” She bit her lip and told herself not to sound so defensive. It wouldn’t do to give Harry cause to start worrying about her ability to handle her job.

“So it was purely physical?” he asked, confirming her worst fears.

“Of course it was, Harry. Look, my obstetrician and I have everything under control.” She forced a smile. “You worry too much,” she told him, trying for a lighter tone.

“Only because I care.” He returned her smile. “You know we’re all like family here, Annie. So if you need anything…”

“I know,” she said.

He nodded, still looking doubtful, then turned and left the classroom. Annie watched him go, wondering how she was going to manage to reassure Harry and restore her own job security.

Sara rose and came to the desk, drawing Annie’s gaze and her thoughts away from the retreating school principal. She didn’t have any books with her. Had she left them behind, then? In the desk?

Annie marveled at the grace of her approach. Her long, slender limbs ought to be awkward, but instead she moved like a dancer. There wasn’t another girl like her, Annie thought vaguely. Not one with such ethereal beauty or such grace. She’d only been coming to class for a few days, and she always sat alone, in the back.

She stopped in front of the desk and looked at Annie with those big dark eyes. They reminded Annie of Maria’s eyes. So huge and so black. But Maria’s saw nothing and Sara’s seemed to see everything. Even invisible things.

What an odd thought
.

Her voice as soft as a breeze, Sara said, “You have dark circles under your eyes.”

“Do I?” Annie reached up as if to wipe them away.

Sara nodded, searching Annie’s face. “When Lyle Stromwell dropped his book a few minutes ago, you jumped out of your skin.”

“It startled me.” Annie drew a breath and tried to see this girl as what she was, a child, not an all-knowing oracle. “Is there something I can do for you, Sara?”

She nodded precisely twice and held Annie’s eyes with her own. “Trust yourself. It’s important, Annie.”

That was it. Then she just turned and left. Annie rubbed her temples with her forefingers and told herself she really ought to start her maternity leave soon. This was getting to be too much. Nothing she couldn’t handle, though, she reminded herself. She was tough. She’d survived hell, she could certainly survive one bad night and a strange young girl who spoke cryptic words that suggested she might just know Annie’s deepest secrets.

Funny about Sara Dawson. The way she never said a word or raised her hand in class. The way the other students ignored her as if she wasn’t even there. Annie had given her a couple of days to get settled in, but soon she’d have to call on her to answer questions or contribute to classroom discussions, try to get her to open up a little. The girl had never spoken a word aloud, except when she and Annie were alone together.

That’s good. Think about Sara instead of your own problems. Distract yourself
.

She shoveled a stack of papers into her soft-sided briefcase, locked the desk drawer, flicked off the lights, and headed out of the building.

Sunshine greeted her, and the warm wind carried the scent of dying autumn leaves. She schooled her facial expression to reflect that of a young mother-to-be, out for a walk on a beautiful afternoon, and headed down the street, waving at the students she met along the way. Smiling her false little smile until her face felt frozen.

Bartholomew had been talking to people about what had happened last night. Even if he meant well, he ought to know better. A retired psychiatrist ought to understand a little bit about confidentiality and discretion. Thank God she hadn’t told him more.

At any rate, no one who glanced her way today would see a sign of trouble in her face. Even if it killed her, she would keep smiling.

She turned left onto Mariposa Road and sashayed over the Otselic River’s minuscule bridge as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She had to wait for a tractor to pass before she crossed the road by the little two-pump gas station and headed into the South Otselic Store. She had no doubt she could sustain the mask a bit longer. She’d had lots of practice.

She’d been too sick to eat that morning. Not morning sickness. That had passed by the fourth month. This was something else. Something deeper and, she suspected, more emotional than physical. Seeing Richard last night… or rather, imagining she’d seen him, had brought her pain back to its screaming, burning pinnacle.

But she had to eat, for the baby’s sake. And school lunch had been meatloaf, a nightmare in itself. So she’d skipped it, and now she was queasy and dizzy, and it was probably as much from going hungry all day as from the recurring memory of her husband standing in the rain.

Leslie grinned at her from the other side of the counter. “How’s that little one doing today, Annie?”

“Sleeping,” she replied. “This kid never starts kicking like a mule until around midnight. Then, look out.”

Leslie laughed at that “What can I get for you?”

“I’m starved.” Good touch, she thought. Everyone always thinks a good appetite equals good health. No one worries about you when you’re hungry. “Could you make me a turkey sub with the works?”

“Glad to. Just be a minute.”

Leslie went to work. When her back was turned, Annie let her aching facial muscles relax and wondered what she looked like. Empty? Heartbroken?

She gave herself a mental shake and wandered to the back to examine the videos. It might be a good idea to keep herself distracted tonight. She was already dreading the thought of another night alone, missing Richard. Maybe dreaming up his image again.

She’d already seen most of the movies on the rack, but there were one or two new ones. While she was examining them,-the bell over the door jangled. Annie glanced up and saw the back of a tall, broad-shouldered man. He was facing the counter, but she would have known him anywhere, and her entire body went stiff. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even breathe.

His golden hair was longer than before. Wilder looking. His arms were bulging with more muscle, and his shoulders seemed broader beneath the long black coat he wore. But there was no doubt in her mind that she was looking at her husband.

Impossible! He’s dead
!

But he wasn’t dead. He was right there. And Leslie was looking right at him and showing no signs of distress. She’d known Richard! Why didn’t she recognize him?

Or maybe the better question was, was she even seeing what Annie was seeing? Or was this some kind of illusion?

She edged toward the far wall, ducking into an aisle and along it to the door. He couldn’t see her from beyond the shelves. She kept low and hurried. She had to get a better look at him. But for some reason she couldn’t explain, she was almost afraid of having him look back. Of meeting his eyes. Of feeling that old connection…

The aisle ended, leaving a brief open area between her and the counter and the exit. She’d step out there for a closer look. Only for a moment. His back would still be to her, but maybe she’d see enough to convince her this was just a man who resembled Richard. Drawing a breath, she stepped forward—and came up short against a chest that was harder, broader than she remembered. And yet the same. So incredibly the same.

His hands clasped her shoulders to steady her, and she looked up, blinked her eyes, and looked again. Her world was spinning away. She was staring into her husband’s eyes.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Are you all right?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She could only gape and blink again. God, he was looking at her as if he didn’t know her! But his hands were so warm and so familiar. And they squeezed her shoulders, exerting gentle pressure.

She started to shake. She wanted to run away. She wanted him to bend closer and kiss her mouth the way he used to. She wanted Leslie to shout his name and ask where the hell he’d been. She wanted to die. She wanted to live.

His eyes widened then, and he sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze falling briefly to her lips. And then his hands fell away, and he turned and walked out the door abruptly, as if something had frightened him as much as the sight of him had frightened her.

And why the hell did Leslie calmly watch him walk out of here with a diet cola in his hand? Why wasn’t she screaming her head off? Did she sell Coke to dead men every day? Good God!

As he walked out the door, he turned and glanced over his shoulder. Right at Annie. His eyes met hers for only an instant. He frowned, maybe at whatever he saw on her face, and he was gone.

Annie’s legs finally came back under her control. She forced herself to the counter and braced both hands on it to keep from falling flat on the floor. The shaking intensified until it encompassed her entire body. The world was spinning away into madness, and no one seemed to notice. No one but her.

“Here’s your sub—Annie? God, you’re white as a sheet? Are you okay?”

Annie blinked at her friend, wondering what on earth was wrong with the woman. Leslie had known Richard.

“That man…” It was all she could get out before her teeth started chattering. She clamped them together and envisioned herself clamping down on her self-control as well. She was not going to lose it like this. Not here. Not now. Leslie would be dialing nine-one-one if she kept it up. And there was no reason for it. There was a perfectly logical explanation for all of this. More calmly, she said, “That man. Do you know him?”

“The one who was just here, you mean? The ebony-haired, black-eyed pagan god you tried to mow down? Gee, Annie, is he what’s got you looking so queasy?” She seemed relieved. “Can’t say I blame you. He’s something, isn’t he?”

“His hair was… it was blond.”

Leslie frowned, worry creeping back into her eyes and her voice. “No, Annie, it was dark.
Really
dark. He’s new in town, I guess. I’ve only seen him a couple of times.”

Annie shook her head. “Leslie, his eyes are blue.” Then she cleared her throat. “I mean, they looked blue to me.”

“Jet-black, hon. Must’a been a trick of the light or something.” She tilted her head. “Are you
sure
you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Annie was barely aware of muttering the word.

Leslie held up the wrapped sub, and Annie stared at it for a long moment before she remembered that she’d ordered it. She met her friend’s eyes again and saw the speculation taking solid form there. The worry. The pity. The oh-my-God-I-think-she’s-losing-it look.

Annie got control. Tenuous, at best, but control all the same. She forced her face to obey her commands. Forced a normal look to replace the stunned expression she had to have been wearing. Finally the worry in Leslie’s eyes eased.

“Trick of the light,” she said quickly, and even managed a self-deprecating shake of the head for good measure. “Right, that must’ve been it. Thanks for the sub.” Too many words would not be a good idea. Too many words and she’d be blurting something stupid. She took the sub, paid for it, and wandered out the door. And for the first time since Richard’s death, Annie wondered if maybe she was losing her mind.

She was disturbed when she got home. Her hands shook uncontrollably, and she tossed the sandwich into the garbage without a second’s regret. She was sick. Her head throbbed, her stomach clenched and unclenched as if a fist were brutally massaging it. God, what was happening to her?

She paced, wondering what to do. Should she call a psychiatrist?

No, because she’d have to make an appointment, and who knew how far away it would be? Besides, she was not delusional. She was the sanest person she knew.

So maybe this was physical. Maybe something was going on with her body that was making her see things. Distorting her vision or her perceptions or something. She went to the telephone stand to look up the number for her obstetrician, but the telephone book wasn’t where she’d left it.