Earth Enchanted (6 page)

Most men, in her experience, proved to be a credit to their gender and not in the best of ways. He might expect too much from her. Or maybe he’d felt obliged to ask her out after coffee. Or maybe... Or maybe he was just a nice guy who missed his wife and wanted someone to talk to. She tossed the fluffy powder brush on the vanity in disgust with herself. She’d go to dinner, and worry about the rest later.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she paced in front of the mirror, irritated with herself. The musical notes of the doorbell stopped her in her tracks. She wanted both to hide under the bed and run down the stairs. The man in question was at the door.

Liv was still debating on earrings when she heard the knock. “Come in, Ryan.”

He opened the door and let out a whistle, then grinned like a fool. “It’s unfortunate that I’ll have to tell your young man to leave. You’re too pretty to be let out the house.”

The comment made her giggle and put her nerves away.

“I hope you’re not serious, except for the pretty part.” She decided on the blue lapis drops. As she put them on, she watched her brother’s reflection in the mirror, with all the suspicion of a veteran mother. He looked so tired, defeated. “Are you really okay?”

“No, Liv, but I will be. There’s nothing you can do but be here for me.”

“If that is all I can do, then it will just have to be enough.”

Jack shifted on the other side of Ryan’s front door and waited. He noticed a tall blond man peeking out the window at him.
Must be Liv’s brother,
what have I gotten into?
He’d let himself forget for a moment, yesterday. Forget the blood and terror, forget that he was half of a broken unit, and he didn’t believe he could be part of one again. To risk that much pain, well he wasn’t sure his heart could take it. Then again, he was just taking her to dinner, not the altar. Since that wasn’t in his plans, he should manage to escape unscathed. Food, fun, and farewell and that’s where this infatuation would end.

He straightened when he heard the footsteps approach the door.

“Roarke, come in, and I’ll see if she’s ready.”

“Thanks. It’s Ryan. Right?”

“Yes.”

Jack’s first impression of the house was one of walking into a Wicca shop. Ingrained in him was the ability to pick up every detail, trained into the cop, born into the writer. The mythical statuary carefully displayed throughout the foyer continued into the parlor just to his left. Unless he missed his guess, it continued through the rest of the house as well. Little bowls of crystals in various shades had also been set out. The colors of the décor were in keeping with the dark theme. Jack wandered to a chair in the foyer to wait. What sort of man could live with all those fairies and mermaids?

Jack watched as they came down the stairs arm in arm. Her brother was obviously more close to his age than Liv’s, and he stood nearly eight inches taller, but the resemblance was clear if you ignored the coloring. Where hers was dark, his was fair. Their easy way with one another attested to the closeness of family. “Hi, Jack.” She smiled at him, switching Ryan’s arm for Jack’s hand. It surprised him for a moment to feel the jolt of current in the contact.

“Hi, yourself.” He had dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt. No tie, but he’d thrown on his leather jacket. The nights could still get chilly, though the days were the devil’s paradise. The stray thought occurred to him that it was what he would have worn to the old office.

She gave Ryan a fleeting smile. “Don’t worry, ‘Daddy.’ I’ll be back by curfew.”

* * * *

They had seafood while they talked about the world in general. Liv finished off her drink while Jack floated the topic back to her family.

“Well,” she said, “my da, Michael, was born in the house where my mother still makes her home. He was a fisherman, and loved the ocean like a woman, until he met my ma. She’s American born and was barely nineteen when she visited our little corner of the world. They met one morning at sunrise on the docks, quite unintended of course. She’d come to watch the sunrise, he to set his boat to sea. A whirlwind couldn’t have picked them up any faster, as he used to tell.

“They fell in love and married before the month was out. I look like him, you know, Ma is fair with pretty blond hair and green cat eyes. Anyhow, ten months later Ryan was born. Another five years gave them Skye and myself. They were always happy, whether hard times or good ones. As long as they had each other, the world was right.” Jack registered the sadness that flickered through her eyes, but set it aside for another time. Would they even have another time?

“You must have a close family. You’re lucky, Liv, to still have them with you. My parents died about five years ago. I’m an only child. So now it’s just me, with my wife passed away. We were tight knit while we had each other so I guess that’s something.” She laid a hand gently over his. Jack felt a jolt shoot through his arm.

“How awful for you, I know it hurts to lose someone you love. One evening when I was fifteen, I waited for my father’s little fishing boat to dock. I’d often go out on the water with him, you see, if I had no lessons, but he hadn’t come for me. The storm blew up so quickly and still he didn’t come. When the lightning came, Ma finally made me watch from the house. She was upset, and I knew in my heart something was terribly wrong.

“Da never came home to us. I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew the exact moment he died. His boat washed up tattered and torn with none aboard or found. My ma grieved until we thought she’d die from it, but we leaned on each other and got through because there was no other choice for us. After that she’s always said she’s thankful for the time the Lord gave them to be with each other, and that she will see him again someday. For her, for some, there is only one love. This is how it was between them, and always will be, though he no longer walks beside her.”

He knew, but looked at her pointedly and said, “Sometimes you can find someone who makes you happy and that’s enough.” Jack took a breath and let it out slowly. That was the last hope of normalcy he had left to cling to, whether he believed in it or not. “So you’re a writer, and Ryan’s an accountant. What does Skye do for a living? Is he a fisherman like your father?”

The sound of her laughter set off visions of fairy harps in his mind. “He’s an artist. He paints, does clay sculptures. Skye creates with his hands, while I create with my head.” She tapped her temple as she spoke. “He also cooks, has strings of girls, but no one special. Moody like an artist is supposed to be. Still he can be counted on in a pinch, and one couldn’t have a better friend.”

Jack was slow forming a mental image of her twin.

“Do you have a picture?”

Liv pulled a small wallet out of her evening bag and handed it to him.

Jack flipped through them, and landed on one of Liv, a few years younger, standing with a man built like a basketball player, but maybe not quite as tall. His hair had been left straight to fall at his shoulders, and his image stared out at him with Liv’s smoky eyes. A happier Ryan stood behind with his arms wrapped around both of his younger siblings.

“That was taken before Ryan moved to the states. Ma is on the unseen end of the camera, of course. He gives us both no end of trouble.”

Jack swallowed hard and continued to stare at the photograph. Love true and full radiated from it, but that wasn’t what bothered him. Something flashed through his subconscious but still he couldn’t hold on to it. She was waiting for him to say something.

“You have a great family, Olivia. Am I right in thinking your home is near these?” He tapped a finger on the image of the stones.

“Yes, the dance is on Corrigan land, and there’s a path leading to it from my cottage. My family has owned the land for as far back as anyone knows. Sometimes I work outside the circle, others I just sit and just watch the sea. I still crave the sea, though I haven’t been on a boat since my father died...” She trailed off. “Skye has visions about it. He likes to think he’s fey.”

“Fey?”

“Yes. Oh, now there are those with great mental ability, telepathy and such.” Her smile was sly and quick.

“Hmm.” They finished their meal in silence. After five or six minutes had passed, he signaled for the check. They walked to the car in silence. He held the car door open and closed it for her.

Jack didn’t drive to Ryan’s house. Instead he turned the opposite direction.

“Jack, where are we going?”

“I thought we’d take a walk in the park, if you like.”

“I’d like that.”

He parked the car in the wide gravel lot next to the basketball courts. Listening to the night birds sing, his hand gently caught hers as they walked along the path.

* * * *

Jack unlocked his door and dropped his keys in the bowl on the end table. He’d thought a lot about what had been said over dinner. Olivia Corrigan was a complex and fascinating woman. His little Irish witch had secrets. He’d known her a day and a half. He wanted to know more about her. He just plain wanted. That was what it came down to. Starting now, he would make it a point to try to get on with his life. He would always love Sissy, and miss her in every way possible for a man, but he was still alive. It was time he lived again. Olivia seemed like a good place to start. He made his way into the bedroom he had shared with his wife and remembered...

The sun was still up at six in the evening, and it shone through the filmy Irish lace curtains that were a prized wedding gift from her grandmother. She sat at the little vanity just placing the last pins to hold that cloud of red hair up and away from her china doll face. Jack watched her from the doorway, as he sometimes did when she didn’t know he was looking. So beautiful, strong, not only of body but of heart, and she could still take his breath away. He smiled to himself. Mine, he thought and walked to her. Her eyes fell on him. He watched as they lit with love and mischief.

She scolded, “I know what you’re about.” He said nothing, just smiled slyly as he grasped one of the pins, yanked it out of her hair. “No, you don’t.” Sissy pretended to bat him away. “I just finished with it. You’ll not be pulling it apart with your romantic notions. Haven’t you had enough of that today? Going out to dinner usually means a body is presentable when leaving the house.” He drew her up out of the chair, but she skirted around him and headed for the closet. She waited a moment or two and after he made no other move toward her went about looking for clothes.

She snatched the white shirt and blue skirt that hung on the hanger in front of her. Sissy turned and walked right into his arms, caught.

“Anniversary,” Jack mumbled, then tossed the rest of the pins until her hair was wild and tousled. “I like it this way.”

She mocked a pout at him. “Of course you do, but you’re a man. So what do you know, anyway?”

His grin was lightning quick. “Plenty.” They were both smiling when he picked her up and playfully tossed her on their bed.

Jack stood in their room, his room, while tears streamed down his face. It hurt so much to remember what they’d shared. Still, it hurt more not to remember. Sometimes he wished that had been his last image of her, but he wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself if he hadn’t been with her when she died.

He kept her things as she had left them. Her clothes still hung with his in the closet. Bottles of perfume and various other cosmetics still sat on top of the vanity. He hadn’t had the heart to get rid of it. It made the room smell like her when he opened the spritzer of scent. How could he think of being with someone new when he was so haunted by one he could never have again?

He toed off his shoes, set the bedside clock, and stretched out on the bed. He’d lie here just a few minutes, and then go into his office to work. Five minutes later, he was sound asleep. For once, his dreams were his own and were of nothing, nothing but Olivia.

* * * *

It was ten-thirty in Paris when the bedside phone rang. Devin answered swearing vehemently in heavily accented French.

“I would rather you refrain from subjecting me to such foul obscenities. I have work for you, Christophe LeFleur, but I can find someone else if you’d rather go back to your
nap
.”

Switching to English he tried to sound chastised. “Gueraldi, I do apologize. Speaking of work, I had a late night, or you wouldn’t have found me so surly at this hour. What can I do for you?”

“I need a diamond for a certain client. The one I have in mind won’t be easy to, let’s say, retrieve. I require your special talent for this little shopping trip.”

“Which one would that be?” Devin knew the one he meant, but it was understood for him to ask. He thought of the stone that had been stolen, bought and sold. It had passed several hands several times, from the Pitt gentleman who originally procured the gem to finally rest in the hilt of Napoleon’s sword.