For Love or Magic (22 page)

“No, that's fair,” I said.

Peach smiled and looked back at Stacy. “When the shit hits the fan, if Desmond is the one who comes to you in need, and you hesitate even for a second, people could get hurt. I won't have it. No.” She shook her head and crossed her arms, resting them on top of her massive belly. “It all gets cleared up now. Tonight.”

Leo had one arm protectively around Stacy's shoulders, but the other hand made a fist in his lap, and I could see his jaw muscles working under his cheek. Desmond looked as horribly uncomfortable as I'd ever seen him, and Stacy was staring blue murder at Peach.

I was on Nick's side; this did not seem like a good idea.

“Maybe we should just go,” I said, and touched Desmond's elbow as I moved toward the door. He stayed where he was.

“Perhaps we should, but first…” He stepped away from me, toward Stacy and Leo. “I'm not asking your forgiveness. I cannot see how an apology could be adequate for what I've done. I don't blame you in the least for—”

“I don't care whether you blame us or not,” Stacy interrupted, her eyes blazing. “Why the hell are you even still here? That's what I don't understand. Why didn't you just leave town, like any
decent human being
would have done?” Her eyes narrowed as she stared him down. “Oh, well, I guess I just answered my own question.”

I waited for Desmond to defend himself, to explain that he was here protecting them, but he didn't say anything, just kept his eyes low and stood with his feet braced, like a man on the bow of a ship facing down a hurricane.

“Look, Desmond,” Leo said finally, his voice soft and calm, in stark contrast to his girlfriend. “I can forgive what you did to me—”

“I can't,” Stacy said through clenched teeth, but Leo squeezed her hand, and she seemed to calm down a bit.

“But I can't forgive what you did to her.” Leo's jaw muscles worked, and I could see the toll that staying calm and reasonable was taking on him. “I've tried, but every time I see you, man … I just want to kill you. I mean it, I want to smash your head into a wall. It's not who I am. It's not the man I want to be, but…” He shook his head, and looked at Peach. “I'm sorry, Peach. I really am.”

Again, Desmond said nothing. He just stood there, still as stone, and took it. Much the way he'd taken the punches from Nick in that story Peach told me. He wasn't going to walk away. He wasn't going to deny them their justice. If Leo got up at that moment and tried to kill him, Desmond would let him do it.

Well, I wouldn't.

“You know why he's still here?” I said, stepping forward. “To protect
you.
”

“Eliot,” Desmond said, but I ignored him.

“Desmond knew that Emerson Streat was probably up to no good, and he stayed here to watch over you, over all of you, and no matter what you do to him, he's going to stay until he knows you're all safe. No matter how much you hate him.” I looked at Nick. “Or how badly you beat him.”

Nick dropped his eyes to the floor, and I felt a twinge of guilt for making him feel bad, but I had to make my point.

“I wasn't here last year,” I said. “I know it was bad, but I didn't see it, so maybe it's easier for me to see him for what he really is. Desmond told me what he did to you, and I know he feels terrible—”

“Eliot,”
Desmond said again, his voice a little firmer now, but I was already worked up, and not ready to stop.

“He was under the influence of a powerful potion,” I said. “He wasn't himself. He's different now. He's kind, and smart and generous. He didn't hesitate to help Tobias when you needed him. Just a few days ago, he asked me to risk his life to protect
you,
and—”

“Eliot!”

The force in his voice was enough to get my attention, and when I looked back at Desmond, his face was red and his eyes were blazing. Not at them.

At me.

“That's enough, Eliot.” His voice was even and firm, but he was visibly upset. As our eyes met, the turmoil in his calmed a bit. “Please. Enough.”

I looked back at Leo and Stacy, then at Peach and Nick. I couldn't say anything else in Desmond's defense. All I could do was stand beside him.

So that's what I did.

He didn't move. He didn't turn to go toward the door. He didn't speak. He just stood there, ready to take his punishment. I stood steady at his side, ready to take whatever was coming with him.

The silence was long, and excruciating. Peach watched all of us, expectant, and when Nick opened his mouth to say something and break the incredible tension, she put her hand lightly on his knee, and he shut up.

Finally, Leo spoke.

“When you took away my emotions … my feelings for Stacy…” Leo cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “She was heartbroken. I watched her fall apart, right in front of me, but I couldn't feel anything about it. I left, because I felt it was best for her, but … even loving her as much as I did, even knowing how much it would devastate her for me to abandon her … I just felt cold about it. It was easy to leave.” He raised his head and met Desmond's eyes. “Is that how it was for you?”

Desmond took a while to answer. “I knew what I was doing was wrong.”

“But you couldn't feel it,” Leo said. “You couldn't
feel
that it was wrong.”

Desmond didn't say anything. I moved closer, silent at his side.

“That was
one dose
of that stuff, Leo,” Peach said after a while. “Desmond had been taking it, over and over, for years.”

Desmond's head moved slightly to the side as if he was dodging something, as though hearing the slightest word in his defense made him physically uncomfortable.

“And you know how guilty you felt when you came back, Leo?” Peach continued, her eyes locked on Leo. “I remember that night you came over and got drunk with Nick. I remember how terrible you felt about leaving Stacy. Desmond got hit with so much more than that, all at once, when Stacy shot him with that reversal potion. Just imagine what that must have been like for him. He could have run off, but he didn't. He stayed. He faced all of us, over and over again, every day.”

I was close enough to Desmond that I could feel the tension in his body. His face was stone, his head raised, his body taut, ready to take whatever came at him.

There was another long silence, but then Leo stood up, walked over to Desmond, and held out his hand.

“All right,” Leo said. “If you're good, I'm good.”

It took Desmond a moment, but he took Leo's hand and they shook. Peach made a sound, and when I looked, I saw tears in her eyes, which made me want to tear up, but I couldn't. I was going to match Desmond's strength, face it all with him, and that meant withstanding whatever the storm threw at us.

Leo stepped back, and all eyes were on Stacy, who stood up as well and walked over to Desmond. She looked him in the eye, crossing her arms over her stomach.

“I felt sorry for you,” she said. “That day, when I hit you with that dose, and brought you back. You were so destroyed. Five minutes before, you were going to kill me, and then you were just lying there, a pathetic, weeping huddle on the ground. Peach didn't see it. Neither did Nick, or Leo. I did and it was…” She shuddered, remembering. “It was devastating.”

She took a deep breath, released it, and went on. “I was ready to forgive you right then, as long as you left. But you stayed, and every time I saw you on the street, or even thought I saw you out of the corner of my eye, it all came back, and it made me afraid. I don't like being afraid. That pissed me off.”

Desmond nodded. “I understand.”

She glanced at Leo, and her stance softened a bit as she looked back at Desmond. “But I can kinda see now … that the guy I'm afraid of
did
leave. He's not here anymore. And I can't forgive you, because you're not him. So…”

It was the most awkward hug I've ever seen. Stacy lifted her arms a little, started to put them back down, and finally placed them stiffly around Desmond's neck. Just as stiffly, Desmond patted her on the back with one hand, and after a moment, they both seemed to relax into it. He held her tighter, with both hands, and in what I imagined to be a rare moment of sweetness from Stacy Easter, she kissed him on the cheek.

“Oh!” Peach stood up as they released each other, and hugged Stacy, then Leo, her eyes brimming with tears. She laughed and looked at Nick. “Bad idea, my
ass
!”

That broke the tension, and everyone laughed, and then Peach looked at me and said, “Don't worry about those two. It was
forever
ago that they slept together, and it didn't mean anything at the time, anyway.”

Four sets of wary eyes landed on me, and Nick said, “Jesus, Peach.”

“Oh, crap!” Peach put her hand to her mouth and turned wide eyes to me. “Did you not know about that?”

“Oh, that's okay. It doesn't matter. We're not…” I motioned awkwardly between me and Desmond. “I mean, we're just…”

“Friends,” Desmond said, smiling down at me. “Good friends.”

My heart did a little jig in response to the warmth on his face. “Yeah. Good friends.”

“Oh,
please,
” Peach said, and everyone laughed, even Stacy and Leo, and suddenly, it was all okay. Peach, in direct defiance of all reason, had actually been right about how to fix the situation, and I made a mental note not to underestimate her so easily again.

Liv poked her head in from the dining room at the sound of our laughter and smiled. “Oh, good. Everyone's still alive. You guys hungry?”

“Oh, hell yes,” Peach said, and led the charge toward the dining room. Desmond and I were at the back of the pack, and he took my hand and held it, stopping me from moving forward with the crowd. The living room cleared out, and we were alone. I turned to face him.

“You okay?” I asked.

He released a deep breath, and I could see the stress on his face that he refused to show during the confrontation. He took a moment, gathered himself, and gave my hand a squeeze, releasing it quickly.

“Yes,” he said finally, and led me into the dining room.

 

Chapter 13

Peach was tired after dinner, so she and Nick went back to her house next door, and the rest of us walked into town. The sun was lowering, providing a soft pink glow, and as I walked next to Desmond, with the air sweet and warm on my skin, I felt happy and peaceful.

“Did you enjoy dinner?” Desmond asked me when we found ourselves lagging at the back of the pack.

“Yeah,” I said. “You?”

“Not at first.” He let out a light laugh, less of humor and more of relief. “But … yes, I did enjoy it.” He stopped and turned to face me. “Thank you for … well, just thank you.”

“For what?” I snorted. “I didn't do anything. That was all you.”

He smiled down at me. “Has anyone ever explained to you that the proper thing to do when someone thanks you is to graciously say, ‘You're welcome'?”

“You Brits,” I said, and started walking again. “So mannered. Chill, will you?”

We laughed and walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, weaving through the crowds and the food carts and the platform where the band played. We found a picnic table on the edge of the celebration, and we listened to the band and waited for the fireworks, making casual chitchat. I don't remember what we said, exactly, because my focus was on searching the crowd for Emerson.

“Would you like to go find him?” Desmond asked me after a while.

“What?” I met his eye and smiled. “I'm sorry. I just … I haven't spoken to him since … you know…”

Desmond jerked his head toward the crowd. “Go on.”

“Are you sure?” I glanced at Stacy and Liv, who were laughing about something.

“I think I can take them if they attack. Go. I'll be right here until you get back.”

“Okay.” I got up and the other four looked up at me. “I'm gonna go … try to find my father.”

Stacy smiled at me. “Good luck. I've got booze in my car if you need it when you get back.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling back at her. “I just might.”

The sunlight was starting to dim, and I wandered through the crowd, looking for the familiar, slightly balding red head of Emerson Streat. After a few minutes, I heard his voice say, “Who are you looking for there, punkin?” and I twirled around to see him behind me.

“Oh, hi!” I looked around, thought about making an excuse and escaping, but I just smiled up at him. “I was looking for you, actually. I was wondering if you still wanted to watch the fireworks with me?”

He smiled so wide it took over his whole face, and as he held out his elbow for me to take, I felt strangely awash with happiness, like I had when I was a little girl and he would take me out for ice cream, just the two of us. We walked a little farther out, where the band music wouldn't keep us from being able to hear each other.

“I wanted to tell you something,” I said, feeling a little awkward. How do you tell your father that you maybe don't think he's a liar and a cold-blooded, ruthless monster anymore? It's a tough conversation to start.

I never even got the chance to start it, because Emerson held up his hand to silence me, and motioned toward the band, who had started playing Solomon Burke's “Can't Nobody Love You.”

Emerson held his hand out to me. “I was going to request that they play ‘Happy Birthday,' but I thought this might be better.”

Hesitantly, I took his hand. Emerson pulled me into his arms, and we danced. For the first time in memory, I rested my cheek on my father's shoulder and relaxed.

“Do you remember how we used to dance to this when you were a girl?” he said, his voice thick. “You used to stand on my toes and I would twirl you around?”