Dance Upon the Air (32 page)

Nell strolled through
the back door of Café Book, called out a casual greeting to Lulu, then continued upstairs.

Once she was there, she moved like lightning.

Just under two minutes later, she called down in a voice she tried to infuse with frustrated apology. “Mia, I'm sorry, but could you come up here a minute?”

“Ought to be able to set up on her own by now,” Lulu mumbled and earned a slanted look from the boss.

“You ought to be able to give her a break by now,” Mia returned and started upstairs.

Nell stood by one of the café tables, where a pretty frosted cake glittered under the lighted birthday candles. Also on the table were a small wrapped box and three flutes frothy with mimosas.

“Happy birthday.”

The sweetness of the gesture made up for being caught off guard, as she rarely was. Mia's smile bloomed—absolute delight. “Thank you. Cake?” She lifted a brow as she picked up a flute. “Mimosas,
and
presents. It almost makes it worth turning thirty.”

“Thirty.” Coming up behind her, Lulu snorted. “Still a baby. When you hit fifty, we'll talk.” She held out another wrapped box, a larger one. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks. Well, what first?”

“Wish first,” Nell ordered, “and blow out the candles.”

It had been a long time since she'd made anything as simple as a wish, but she did so now, then swept her breath over the candles.

“You have to cut the first piece.” Nell handed her a cake knife.

“All right. Then I want my presents.” Mia cut, then picked up the large box and tore in.

The throw was soft as water, the color of midnight sky. Scattered over it were the symbols of the zodiac. “Oh, Lu, it's fabulous!”

“Keep you warm.”

“It's beautiful.” Nell stroked the throw. “I tried to imagine it when Lulu described it, but it's so much more.”

“Thank you.” Mia turned, rubbed her cheek over Lulu's before kissing it.

Though pleased color pinched Lulu's cheeks, she waved Mia away. “Go on, open Nell's before she bursts.”

“It's just that they made me think of you,” Nell began as Mia set the throw aside to open the little box. Inside were earrings, a dangle of silver stars twinkling against tiny globes of moonstone.

“They're wonderful.” Mia held them up to the light before she kissed Nell. “And perfect, particularly today,” she added, holding out her arms.

She was wearing black again, but the sleek sweep of the dress was picked out in tiny silver stars and moons. “I couldn't resist it for Halloween, and now these . . .” She made quick work of slipping off the earrings she'd put on that morning and replacing them with Nell's. “Just top it off.”

“Okay, then.” Lulu raised her glass. “To hitting the big three-oh.”

“Oh, Lulu, don't spoil it.” But Mia laughed as she clicked glasses. “I want cake.” She lifted her little silver watch that dangled from one of her chains. “We're going to open just a few minutes late today.”

It wasn't difficult
to find the yellow cottage. Evan drove past it, slowing his car to study the small house tucked among the trees. Little better than a shack, was his opinion, and the insult of it nearly choked him.

She would live in that hovel rather than in the beautiful homes he'd provided for her.

He had to fight the urge to go to the café, to drag her out and into the street. Public scenes, he reminded himself, were not the way to deal with a deceitful wife.

Such things required privacy.

He drove back to the village, parked his car, then went back on foot. His blood was already bubbling. Careful study showed him that none of the neighboring houses were close enough to worry him. Still, he strolled into the trees first, circled around. Stood in their shadows watching the house.

When nothing moved, nothing stirred, he crossed to the back door.

There was a wave of something—something strong and fretful. It seemed to push against him, as if to bar him from the door. For a moment it laid what might have been fear over his skin, and he actually found himself stepping back, off the stoop.

Fury bubbled, burned away that fear. While the stars hanging from the eaves chimed madly in a sudden gust of wind, he shoved through what seemed like a wall of solid air and gripped the doorknob.

She didn't even lock the house, he thought in
disgust as he let himself in. See how careless she was, how foolish?

He saw the cat and nearly snarled. He detested animals. Filthy creatures. They stared at each other for one long moment, then Diego streaked away.

Evan scanned the kitchen, then began to walk through the cottage. He wanted to see how his dead wife had been living this past year.

He could hardly wait to see her again.

S
he started
to head home half a dozen times that afternoon, but there was so much fun in the village. Most of the merchants had decked themselves out in costumes to celebrate the day. There were demons selling hardware and fairies ringing up produce.

She had a late lunch with Ripley, and an impromptu meeting with Dorcas about catering a Christmas party.

And it seemed that every second person she passed stopped her to congratulate her on her engagement.

She belonged. To the village, she thought. To Zack. And finally, finally, she belonged to herself.

She swung by the station house to make a date with Zack to hand out the goody bags she'd already made up for the ghosts and goblins expected at dusk.

“I might be a little late. Have to run herd on some of the older kids,” Zack told her. “I've already dealt with a couple of teenagers who tried to convince me
the twelve rolls of toilet paper they were buying were for their mothers.”

“How did you get the toilet paper for rolling houses when you were a kid?”

“I stole it out of the bathroom closet at home, like anyone with half a brain.”

Her dimples deepened. “Any more exploding pumpkins?”

“No, I think the word got out on that.” He cocked his head. “You sure look chipper today.”

“I am chipper today.” She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his neck.

He'd just gotten his arms around her when his phone rang. “Hold that thought,” he told her, and answered.

“Sheriff's office. Yeah, Mrs. Stubens. Hmm?” He stopped lowering his hip to the corner of the desk and stood straight again. “Is anybody hurt? Good. No, just stay right there, I'm on my way. Nancy Stubens,” he told Nell as he strode over to the coat rack for his jacket. “Teaching her boy how to drive. He ran straight into the Bigelows' parked Honda Civic.”

“But is he all right?”

“Yeah, I'll just go sort things out for them. It might take a while. That Honda was brand-new.”

“You know where to find me.”

She walked out with him, felt a nice steady glow when he leaned down to kiss her good-bye. Then they walked in opposite directions.

She'd gone half a block when Gladys Macey hailed her.

“Nell! Hold on.” Puffing a little at the effort to
catch up, Gladys patted her heart. “Let me see that ring I'm hearing so much about.”

Before Nell could offer her hand, Gladys was grabbing it, bending over close to get a good, long look. “Should have known that Todd boy would do a good job.” She gave a nod of approval, then looked up at Nell. “You got a winner there, and I don't mean the ring.”

“I know it.”

“I watched him grow up. Once he got some man on him, if you know what I mean, I used to wonder what sort of woman would catch his fancy. I like knowing it's you. I've got a fondness for you.”

“Mrs. Macey.” Undone, Nell hugged her. “Thank you.”

“You'll be good for him.” She patted Nell's back. “And he'll be good for you. I know you've had some troubles.” She simply nodded as Nell drew back. “You had something in your eyes when you came here. It's not there much anymore.”

“I left all that behind. I'm happy.”

“It shows. Have you set the date?”

“No, not yet.” Nell thought of lawyers, of conflict. Of Evan. She would deal with it, she told herself. With all of it. “As soon as we can.”

“I want a front-row seat at the wedding.”

“You'll have one. And all the champagne you can drink at our thirtieth anniversary party.”

“I'll hold you to it. Well, I've got to get on. Monsters'll come knocking at the door before long, and I don't want my windows soaped. You tell that man of yours I said he did well.”

“I will.” That man of hers, Nell thought as she began to walk again. What a wonderful phrase.

She quickened her steps. She was going to have to hurry to beat dusk.

She went to the front of the cottage, glancing around a bit self-consciously. Secure that she was alone in the lowering light, she held her arms out toward her jack-o'-lanterns, breathed in, focused.

It took some work, a hard slap of effort, and a match would certainly have been quicker. But it wouldn't have given her the same rush as watching the candles spurt flame and the pumpkins glow from the fire in her mind.

Boy! She let out her breath on a quick laugh. Boy, oh boy, that was so
cool
.

It wasn't just the magic, she decided. It was the knowing—who and what she was. It was finding her strength, her purpose, and her heart. Taking back control so that she could share it with a man who believed in her.

Whatever happened tomorrow, or a year from tomorrow, she was now and always Nell.

She danced up the steps and into the front door.

“Diego! I'm home. You wouldn't believe the day I've had. Absolutely the best day.”

She twirled into the kitchen, flipping on the light. She put on the kettle for tea before beginning to fill a big wicker basket with her goody bags.

“I hope we get a lot of kids. It's been years since I've done trick or treat. I can't wait.” She opened a cupboard. “Oh, for heaven's sake! I left my car at the bookstore. What was I thinking?”

“You always were absentminded.”

The mug she reached for slipped like water out of her hand, smashed on the counter, shattered on the floor. A roaring filled her ears as she turned.

“Hello, Helen.” Evan walked slowly toward her. “It's so good to see you.”

She couldn't say his name, could make no sound at all. She prayed it was another vision, a hallucination. But he reached out, and those slender fingers brushed her cheek.

She went cold to the marrow.

“I've missed you. Did you think I wouldn't come?” Those fingers slid around the back of her neck now and brought on a hideous wave of nausea. “Wouldn't find you? Haven't I told you, Helen, so many times, that nothing would ever keep us apart?”

She only closed her eyes when he bent, brushed his mouth over hers. “What have you done to your hair?” His hand fisted it, tugged viciously. “You know how I love your hair. Did you cut it off to displease me?”

A tear slithered down her cheek as she shook her head. His voice, his touch, seemed to drain everything she was away and leave her as she'd been.

She felt Nell fading away.

“It does displease me, Helen. You've caused me a great deal of trouble. A great deal. You've stolen a year of our lives.”

His fingers tightened, went biting cruel as he jerked her chin up. “Look at me, you stupid little bitch. Look at me when I speak to you.”

Her eyes opened and all she could see were his, those clear, empty pools.

“You'll have to pay for it, you know that. More
than a year erased. And all the while you've been living in this miserable little shack, laughing at me, working as a waitress, serving people. Trying to start your pitiful little business, kitchen business. Humiliating me.”

His hand slid from her cheek to her throat, squeezed. “I'm going to forgive you after a time, Helen. After a time, because I know you're slow, and just a bit stupid. Have you nothing to say to me, my love? Nothing to say after this long separation?”

Her lips were cold, felt as if they might crack. “How did you find me?”

He smiled then, and made her shudder. “I told you I'd always find you, wherever you went, whatever you did.” He gave her a hard shove that jammed her back into the counter. The pain registered in kind of an absent way, like a memory.

“Do you know what I found here, in your little nest, Helen? Helen, my whore? Men's clothing. How many men have you slept with, slut?”

The kettle began to shriek, but neither of them heard.

“Did you find yourself some strapping local fisherman, let him put his fumbling, workingman's hands all over you? All over what belongs to me?”

Zack. It was her first clear thought. Clear enough that her swimming eyes registered bright fear.

“There's no fisherman,” she said and barely cried out when he slapped her.

“Liar. You know how I detest liars.”

“There's no—” The tears escaped at the next slap. But it snapped her back to who she was. She was Nell Channing, and she would fight. “Keep away from me.
Keep away.” She grabbed for the knife block, but he was quicker. He'd always been quicker.

“Is this what you want?” He drew the long, jagged-edged blade free, turned it in the light an inch from her nose. She braced herself. She thought: So, he'll kill me after all.

Instead he reared back, smashing the side of her face with a vicious backhanded slap that sent her flying. She crashed into the table, striking her head against the edge of the thick wood. The world went bright, went dark.

She didn't feel her body hit the floor.

Mia treated
a young space explorer. The bookstore was one of the most popular spots on Halloween. She had dancing skeletons, grinning pumpkins, flying ghosts, and, of course, a coven of witches. Her usual store music had been replaced with howls and shrieks and rattling chains.

She was having the time of her life.

She served a cowboy ghoul a cup of punch from a cauldron as the dry ice packed beneath it sent out curls of smoke.

His eyes were huge as he watched her. “Are you gonna ride on your broomstick tonight?”

“Of course.” She bent down. “What kind of a witch would I be otherwise?”

“The witch who chased Dorothy was a bad witch.”

“She was a very bad witch,” Mia agreed. “I happen to be a very good one.”

“She was ug–ly, and had a green face. You're pretty,” he giggled and slurped his punch.

“Thank you very much. You, on the other hand, are very scary.” She handed him a bag of candy. “I hope you won't trick me.”

“Huh-uh. Thanks, lady.” He dropped the bag in his begging sack, then ran off to find his mother.

Amused, Mia started to straighten. The pain came fast, bright, like a spear of light through the temple. She saw a man with pale eyes and bright hair, and the gleam of the blade.

“Call Zack.” She rushed to the door, calling out to a startled Lulu. “There's trouble. Nell's in trouble. Call Zack.”

She raced into the street, swung around a group of costumed children and nearly plowed into Ripley. “Nell.”

“I know it.” Ripley's head was still ringing. “We have to hurry.”

She came to
slowly, her vision fractured, her head screaming. There was absolute silence. She rolled, moaning, and managed to get to her hands and knees. Nausea sent her curling into a ball again.

The kitchen was dark now, lit only by the faint glow of a candle in the center of the table.

He sat there, in one of her kitchen chairs. She could see his shoes, the gleam of them, the perfect crease in his slacks, and she wanted to weep.

“Why do you make me punish you, Helen? I can
only think you must enjoy it.” He nudged her with his shoe. “Is that it?”

She started to crawl away. Just a moment, she prayed. Give me one moment to breathe, and I can find my strength again.

He simply pressed his foot into her back.

“We're going to go somewhere where we can be alone. Where we can discuss all this foolishness, all this trouble you've caused me.”

He frowned a little. How was he to get her away? He hadn't meant to put marks on her, not where they could be noticed. She had pushed him to it.

“We'll walk to my car,” he decided. “You'll wait there for me while I pack and check out.”

She shook her head. She knew it was useless, but she shook her head, then began to cry quietly when she felt Diego brush against her legs.

“You'll do exactly as I say.” He tapped the tip of the knife against the table. “If you don't, you'll leave me no choice. People already believe you're dead, Helen. Beliefs can easily become reality.”