Heroes are My Weakness (21 page)

The way she said it was funnier than hell, but he had no desire to laugh. He rubbed the back of his fist over his jaw. “You’re . . . on the pill, right?”

“It’s a little late to ask!” She turned and stomped away. “And, no, I’m not!”

An icy vise clamped around his rib cage. He could barely move. He heard her in the bedroom, and then in the bathroom. He needed to clean up himself, but all he could think about was what he’d done and the terrible price he might pay for what he could only think of as the most unsatisfying sexual encounter of his life.

When she finally emerged, she was wearing her navy robe, Santa pajamas, and a pair of sweat socks. Her face was scrubbed clean, her hair pulled up with a tie that left damp tendrils corkscrewing here and there. Mercifully, she seemed calmer. “I had pneumonia,” she said. “My pill schedule got screwed up.”

A cold trickle slid down his spine. “When did you have your last period?”

She sneered at him. “What are you? My gynecologist? Go to hell.”

“Annie . . .”

She spun on him. “Look. I know this is as much my fault as yours, but right now I’m too furious to take my share of the responsibility.”

“Damn right, it’s your fault, too! You and your kissing game.”

“Which you
flunked
.”

“Of course I flunked it. Do you think I’m made of ice?”

“You! What about me? And since when do you think it’s all right to have sex without a condom?”

“I don’t, damn it. But I’m not used to carrying them around in my pocket.”

“You should! Look at you. You shouldn’t go anywhere without a dozen of them!” She shook her head, closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she was mercifully calmer. “Just go,” she said. “I can’t stand looking at you a moment longer.”

His wife had delivered nearly those exact words a dozen times, but while Kenley had looked feral, Annie merely looked tired.

“I can’t go, Annie,” he said carefully. “I thought you’d have figured that out by now.”

“Of course you can. And that’s what you’re going to do. Now.”

“Do you really think I’ll leave you here alone at night after somebody tried to shoot you?”

She stared at him. He waited for her to start the foot stomping again or throw another pillow, but she didn’t. “I don’t want you here.”

“I know.”

She crossed her arms and curled her hands around her elbows. “Do what you like. I’m too upset to argue. And sleep in the studio because I’m not sharing. Understand?” A moment later she was gone, her bedroom door shut firmly behind her.

He used the bathroom, and when he came out, faced the dinner mess. Since he’d done the cooking, he shouldn’t have to clean up, but he didn’t mind. Unlike real life, cleaning a kitchen was a task with a clear beginning, middle, and end. Just like a book.

A
NNIE BARELY AVOIDED TRIPPING OVER
Hannibal as she got out of bed in the morning. In addition to everything else, it seemed she’d acquired a part-time cat. She’d fallen asleep last night counting and recounting the days since her last period. She should be safe, but “should” was far from a guarantee. For all she knew, she could right now be incubating the devil’s spawn. And if that happened . . . She couldn’t bear thinking about it.

She’d thought she’d freed herself from the power these handsome, brooding fake heroes had over her. But no. All Theo had to do was show a little interest, and there she was, eyes closed, legs spread, like the dumbest heroine ever written. It was so stupid. However hopeless the quest might be, she wanted a forever love. She wanted children and the conventional family life she’d never known, but she’d never find that with these damaged, aloof men. Yet here she was, slipping right back into her old pattern, except so much worse. She’d been caught in Theo Harp’s web—not because he’d diabolically cast it around her, but because she’d run into it with her arms outstretched.

She had to get to the attic before he did, and as soon as she heard him in the bathroom, she pulled the stepladder from the storage closet and carried it into the studio. He’d already made the bed, and her puppets were still arranged on the shelf under the window. Once she had the ladder into position in the closet, she climbed up and pushed open the trap. She gingerly poked her head into the cold attic space, then shone around the flashlight she’d brought with her, but she could see only construction beams and insulation.

One more dead end.

She heard the water stop in the bathroom and headed for the kitchen to make a quick bowl of cereal, then carried it back to her bedroom to eat. She didn’t like hiding out in her own home, but she couldn’t bear the idea of seeing him right now.

Only after he left the cottage did she remember the paper Livia had put in her backpack. She removed the roll and carried it over to the table, where she smoothed it out. Livia had used her black marker to draw a trio of stick figures, two large and one very small. The smallest figure, drawn off to the side of the page, had ruler-straight hair. Beneath it, Livia had printed her own name in crooked capital letters. The other two figures weren’t labeled. One lay prone with a red flower shirt decoration, the other stood with arms outstretched. At the bottom of the paper, Livia had laboriously printed out crooked letters:

FRESEK

Annie studied the drawing more closely. The small figure, she noticed, had no mouth.

FRESEK

Annie finally understood. She didn’t know exactly what she was seeing, but she knew why Livia had given this to her. This drawing was Livia’s free secret.

Chapter Twelve

A
NNIE PARKED THE
R
ANGE
R
OVER
in the garage at Harp House. Thinking about Livia’s drawing would have been a welcome distraction from worrying about being pregnant if there weren’t something so unsettling about what the little girl had depicted. She wanted to show the drawing to Jaycie to see if she could decipher it, but Annie had made a pact, and even though she’d done it with a four-year-old, she wouldn’t break it.

She closed the garage door and wandered toward the edge of the drive. She’d made it to Harp House before Theo, and as she looked down, she saw him on the beach path, a solitary figure silhouetted against the vastness of the sea. His head was bare as usual, with nothing more than his black suede jacket as protection against the wind. He crouched down to examine a tidal pool. Eventually he leaned back on his heels and gazed out at the water. What was he thinking about? Some gruesome plot line? His dead wife? Or maybe he was considering how to get rid of an inconvenient woman he might have accidentally gotten pregnant?

Theo was not going to kill her. She was certain of that. But he could hurt her in a lot of other ways. She understood her tendency to romanticize men like Theo, and she had to be on her guard. She’d had sex with a fantasy last night. A romantic bookworm’s fantasy.

A
NNIE WASHED
J
AYCIE
’
S AND
L
IVIA
’
S
breakfast dishes and straightened the kitchen. By the time she was done, she still hadn’t seen Jaycie, and she went to look for her.

They lived in the old housekeeper’s apartment on the opposite side of the house from the turret. Annie wound through the back hallway until she reached the door at the end. It was closed, and she knocked. “Jaycie?”

There was no answer, and she knocked again. Just as she was about to turn the knob, Livia opened the door. She looked adorable with a homemade paper crown pushed so far down on her head that her ears stuck out. “Hey, Liv. I like your crown.”

Livia was only interested in seeing if Annie had brought Scamp along, and she was clearly disappointed not to see the puppet on Annie’s arm. “Scamp’s taking a nap,” Annie said. “But I’m sure she’ll want to visit you later. Is Mommy here?”

Livia opened the door all the way to let Annie inside.

The housekeeper’s apartment had been designed in an L shape to provide both a sitting room and sleeping area. Prior to breaking her foot, Jaycie had converted the sitting room into Livia’s bedroom. Her own room was austere—a bed, chair, dresser, and lamp, all castoffs from the house. Livia’s space was more cheerful, with a bright pink bookcase, child’s table and chairs, a pink and green rug, and a bed with a Strawberry Shortcake comforter.

Jaycie stood at the window, staring outside. The hippopotamus she’d tied to the top of her crutch had twisted so it was facedown. Jaycie turned slowly from the window, her jeans and cherry red sweater clinging to her curves. “I was—straightening up in here.”

Since Livia’s toys were strewn about, and half a dozen stuffed animals poked out from the rumple of blankets on the unmade bed, Annie didn’t believe her. “I was afraid you were sick,” Annie said.

“No. I’m not sick.”

Annie realized she didn’t know Jaycie any better now than when she’d first come here not quite three weeks ago. Instead she felt as if she were looking at a photo that was slightly out of focus. Jaycie leaned on her good foot. “Theo didn’t come home last night.”

The skin on Annie’s neck grew hot with guilt. That explained why Jaycie was hiding out. Even though Annie didn’t believe Theo had any personal interest in Jaycie, she felt as if she’d broken the girlfriend code. She had to tell Jaycie at least part of the truth, but not with Livia taking in everything they were saying. “Scamp really likes your drawings, Liv. Maybe you could make one for us to hang in the kitchen while Mommy and I go talk.”

Livia didn’t protest. She went to her table and opened her crayon box. Annie stepped out into the hallway, and Jaycie followed. Annie wasn’t going to lie to her, but it would be cruel to tell her too much. “Some odd things have been happening,” she said, guilt clinging to her like sticky syrup. “I didn’t want to bother you, but I guess you need to know. When I got back to the cottage on Saturday night, it had been trashed.”

“What do you mean?”

Annie told her what she’d found. And then she told her the rest. “Yesterday morning on my way over here, someone shot at me.”

“Shot at you?”

“The bullet barely missed. Theo found me right after. That’s why he didn’t come home last night. He didn’t want to leave me alone, even though I told him he didn’t need to stay.”

Jaycie leaned against the wall behind her. “It was an accident, I’m sure. Some fool shooting at birds.”

“I was in the open. It was pretty clear I wasn’t a bird.”

But Jaycie wasn’t listening. “I’ll bet it was Danny Keen. He’s always doing things like this. He probably broke into the cottage with a couple of his friends. I’ll call his mother.”

Annie didn’t believe the explanation was that simple, but Jaycie had already taken off down the hall, moving more easily on the crutches than she had when Annie had arrived. Annie reminded herself that Jaycie never had to know what had happened at the cottage. No one ever had to know. Not unless she really was pregnant . . .

Stop!
demanded Dilly.
You are not going to think that way.

I’ll marry you,
Peter said.
Heroes always do the right thing.

Peter was starting to get on her nerves.

L
IVIA CAME INTO THE LIBRARY
wearing her pink coat, crooked paper crown still on her head, and dragging Annie’s backpack. It didn’t take detective skills to figure out what she wanted. Annie closed down her laptop and went to fetch her own coat.

The temperature had risen into the high thirties, and as they stepped outside, the gutters were dripping and the snow was beginning to disappear from all but the shadiest spots. As they neared the fairy house, she saw that an egg-size rock topped with a tiny carpet of green winter moss had appeared, a cushy perch for a tiny woodland creature. She wondered if Jaycie knew Livia had slipped out earlier. “Looks like the fairies have a new place to sit.”

Livia leaned back on her heels to examine the rock.

Annie started to reprimand her for coming out alone, then thought better of it. Livia didn’t seem to stray any farther than the tree. As long as Theo kept the stable locked, she shouldn’t come to any harm.

Annie sat on the ledge stone and pulled out Scamp. “
Buon giorno,
Livia. It is I,
Scamperino.
I’m practicing my
Italiano.
That means ‘Italian.’ Do you speak any foreign languages?”

Livia shook her head.

“A pity,” Scamp said. “Italian is the language of pizza, which I simply adore. And gelato. That’s like ice cream. And badly built towers. Alas . . .” She dropped her head. “Neither pizza nor gelato is available on Peregrine Island.”

Livia looked sorry about that.

“I have a brilliant idea!” Scamp exclaimed. “Maybe you and Annie could make fake pizzas this afternoon with English muffins.”

Annie expected Livia to object, but instead, she nodded. Scamp shook her head to fluff her orange curls. “The drawing you left for me last night was
eccellente.
That’s Italian for ‘excellent.’ ”

Livia dipped her head and gazed at her feet, but Scamp wasn’t deterred. “I am exceptionally clever, and I have deduced—that means I’ve figured out—I have deduced . . .” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “. . . that the drawing is your free secret.”

Livia’s small face tightened with apprehension.

Scamp cocked her head and said softly, “Don’t worry. I’m not mad at you.”

Livia finally looked at her.

“That’s you in the picture, isn’t it? But I’m not sure who the others are . . .” She hesitated. “Maybe your mother?”

Livia gave a tiny, almost indecipherable nod.

Annie felt as though she were wandering through a dark room with her arms outstretched trying not to bump into anything. “It looks like she’s wearing something pretty. Is it a flower or maybe a valentine? Did you give it to her?”

Livia shook her head violently. Tears sprang to her eyes, as if the puppet had betrayed her. With a hiccuping sob, she ran toward the house.

Annie winced as the kitchen door banged shut. A couple of college psychology classes hadn’t equipped her to meddle in something like this. She wasn’t a child psychologist. She wasn’t a mother . . .