Heroes are My Weakness (30 page)

Very sensible,
Dilly said.
You’ve finally learned your lesson.

The next afternoon, Annie took Livia outside again. It was too windy for the beach, so they hung out on the front porch steps. Annie needed to know if she’d done any damage yesterday, and she propped Scamp on her knee. The puppet got straight to the point. “Are you mad at me for talking about your daddy when we went down to the beach?”

Livia pursed her lips, thinking it over, then slowly shook her head.

“Good,” Scamp said, “because I was worried you’d be mad.”

Livia shook her head again, then climbed up on the stone balustrade that had replaced the wooden spindles. She straddled the balustrade, her back to Annie.

Should she drop the subject or keep it on the table? She needed to do more research on mutism and childhood trauma. In the meantime, she would trust her instincts.

“I would hate it if I had a daddy that did bad things to my mommy,” Scamp said. “Especially if I couldn’t talk about it.”

Livia began riding the balustrade horse.

“Or sing about it. I believe I’ve mentioned that I’m an accomplished vocalist.” Scamp began singing a series of scales. It had taken Annie endless years of practice to sing well in the vocal registers of all her puppets, something that set her apart from most vents. Scamp finally stopped. “If you ever want me to sing another song about what happened, let me know.”

Livia quit riding her horse and turned around. She stared at Annie, then at Scamp.

“Yes or no?” Scamp chirped. “I shall abide by your wise decision.”

Livia dropped her head and picked at some residual pink nail polish on her thumbnail. A definite no. What had Annie expected? Did she really think her clumsy interference could unlock such a deep trauma?

Livia shifted her position on the balustrade so she was facing Annie. She slowly moved her head. A hesitant nod.

Annie felt as if her heart skipped a beat. “Very well,” Scamp said. “I shall call my song ‘The Ballad of Livia’s Terrible Experience.’ ” Annie stalled for time with some dramatic throat clearing. The best she could hope to do was drag the topic out of the darkness into the light. Maybe that would make it less taboo. She also needed to tell Jaycie about this. She began to sing softly.

“Little girls shouldn’t see bad things

But sometimes they do . . .”

She continued her song, making it up as she’d done yesterday, but this time keeping the tune more serious and avoiding any
Olé
s. Livia listened to every word, then nodded at the end and went back to riding her balustrade horse.

Annie heard a noise behind her and turned.

Theo leaned against the corner of the house at the far end of the porch. Even from where she was, she could see the frown etched between his eyebrows. He’d overheard, and he was judging her for it.

Livia saw him, too, and stopped riding the balustrade. He came forward, the collar of his parka turned up, his footsteps silent on the stone porch floor.

Screw his judgment,
Annie thought. At least she was trying to help Livia. What had he done, other than scare her?

Scamp was still on her arm, and she thrust the puppet forward. “
Halt!
Identify yourself!”

He halted. “Theo Harp. I live here.”

“So you say. Prove it.”

“Well . . . My initials are carved in the floor of the gazebo.”

His initials as well as his twin’s.

Scamp thrust her chin forward. “Are you good or bad, Mr. Theo Harp?”

One dark eyebrow shot toward his hairline, but he kept his focus on the puppet. “I try to be good, but it’s not always easy.”

“Do you eat your vegetables?”

“Everything except rutabaga.”

Scamp turned toward Livia and said in a stage whisper, “He doesn’t like rutabaga either.” Then back to Theo. “Do you take a bath without making a big fuss about it?”

“I take showers. I like ’em.”

“Do you run outside in your socks?”

“No.”

“Do you sneak candy when nobody’s looking?”

“Only peanut butter cups.”

“Your horse is scary.”

He glanced over at Livia. “That’s why kids need to stay out of the stable if I’m not there.”

“Do you ever yell?”

He returned his attention to Scamp. “I try not to. Unless the Sixers are losing.”

“Do you know how to comb your hair by yourself?”

“I do.”

“Do you bite your fingernails?”

“Absolutely not.”

Scamp took a deep breath, dropped her head, and lowered her voice. “Do you ever hit mommies?”

Theo didn’t blink. “Never. Absolutely never. Nobody should ever hit mommies.”

Scamp turned to Livia and cocked her head. “What do you think? Can he stay?”

Livia nodded agreeably—no hesitation, firm nod—and slipped down off the balustrade.

“Could I speak with Annie now?” Theo asked Scamp.

“I guess,” Scamp replied. “I’ll go make up songs in my head.”

“You do that.”

Annie returned Scamp to her backpack. She expected Livia to go inside, now that the puppet wasn’t part of the conversation, but instead she wandered along the porch and down the three front steps. Annie started to tell her to come back, but Livia didn’t stray. Instead she poked around in the frozen dirt next to the house.

Theo tilted his head toward the end of the porch, clearly indicating they needed a private conversation. Annie went over to him, still keeping her eye on Livia. He spoke quietly, so the child couldn’t hear. “How long has this been going on?”

“She and Scamp have been friends for a while, but I only started talking about her father a couple of days ago. And, no, I don’t know what I’m doing. And, yes, I realize I’m meddling with a problem that’s too complicated for someone who’s not a professional. Do you think I’m crazy?”

He considered. “She’s definitely not as skittish as she was. And she seems to like being around you.”

“She likes being around Scamp.”

“Scamp is the one who started talking to her about what she saw, right? It was Scamp, not you?”

Annie nodded.

“And she wants to be with Scamp?” he said.

“She seems to.”

He frowned. “How do you do it? I’m a grown man. I know damn well you’re the one who’s making that puppet talk, but I still look at the puppet.”

“I’m good at what I do.” She’d intended to be sarcastic, but it didn’t come out that way.

“Damn right you are.” He tilted his head toward the little girl. “I say keep going. If she’s had enough, she’ll let you know.”

His confidence made her feel better.

He turned to leave only to have Livia come scampering up the stairs after him. She’d brought something with her. Looking up at him, she opened her hands, showing him a couple of small rocks and some clamshells. He gazed down at her. She gazed back, her lips setting in their familiar mulish line. She extended her hands. He smiled and took what she’d given him, then rubbed the top of her head. “See you later, kiddo.” He disappeared down the cliff steps to the beach.

How odd. Livia was afraid of Theo, so why had she given him what she’d collected?

Rocks, clamshells . . .

Annie understood. Livia had given him her offerings because he was the one building her fairy house.

A
NNIE WAS FINDING IT INCREASINGLY
difficult to connect the Theo she remembered from the past with the man she now knew. She understood that people changed as they grew older, but his disturbing teenage behavior had seemed too deep rooted in psychosis to be easily fixed. He’d told her he’d had therapy. Apparently, it had worked, although he refused to talk about Regan and continued to shut down when the conversation got personal. She couldn’t lose sight of the fact that he was still deeply troubled.

Later, as she was taking out the trash, she glanced down at the cottage and saw something that made her stop in her tracks. A car moved slowly, almost stealthily, toward the cottage.

Theo wrote in the studio. Sometimes he blasted music while he worked. He wouldn’t even know he had a visitor.

She raced inside the house, grabbed the car keys, and sped down the cliff.

Chapter Seventeen

Y
OU WERE PREPARED TO DEFEND
me with an ice scraper?” Theo tossed his parka over the back of the pink velvet couch. Two hours had passed since the unfortunate incident, and he was just returning from his second trip to town.

“It was all I could find in your car,” Annie said. “We Ninjas have to use whatever’s on hand.”

“You practically gave Wade Carter a heart attack.”

“He was skulking around behind the cottage,” she retorted. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Don’t you think jumping him was a bit extreme?”

“Not if he was getting ready to break in, and seriously, Theo, how well do you know him?”

“Well enough to know that his wife didn’t fracture her arm just so he’d have an excuse to break into the cottage.” He dropped his car keys on the table and headed for the kitchen. “He’s lucky you didn’t give him a concussion.”

Annie was more than a little proud of herself. Yes, she was glad she hadn’t actually hurt the man, but after feeling beat down for so long, she liked knowing she wasn’t afraid to act. “Next time he’ll knock on the door,” she said, following him.

He opened the flaps on the box of wine bottles he’d brought back inside. “We have new locks. And he did knock, remember?”

But Theo hadn’t answered, so Carter had circled the cottage, trying to figure out if anyone was inside. Annie hadn’t known that. “From now on, no more loud music when you work,” she said. “Anybody could sneak up on you, and you wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

“Why should I worry, with Wonder Woman on the job?”

She grinned. “I was pretty awesome.”

His laugh was still tarnished at the edges. “At least the word’s out that you’re not an easy mark.”

She considered asking him about the fairy house, but talking about it would destroy the magic. Besides, that was between him and Livia. “How did the bone setting go?”

“I stabilized her arm. Wade promised he’d take her over to the mainland tomorrow.” He examined the label on the wine bottle. “Then Lisa McKinley saw my car and asked me to look at her youngest daughter.”

“Alyssa.”

“Yes, well,
Alyssa
shoved something up her nose and it won’t come out. Ask me what I know about extracting a jelly bean from a kid’s nose.” He located the corkscrew. “I tell them all the same thing. I’m an EMT, not a doctor, but they act as if I have a medical degree from Harvard.”

“Did you get it out?”

“No, and Lisa’s really pissed at me.” Unlike the jelly bean, the wine cork came out with a soft pop. “I don’t carry around a nasal speculum, and I could do serious damage if I started poking at it. She’s going to the mainland with the Carters.” He pulled down two wine goblets.

“No wine for me,” she said quickly. “I’m having tea. Chamomile.”

The familiar hard grooves had reappeared at the corners of his unsmiling mouth. “You haven’t gotten your period.”

“No, I haven’t.” Her rejection of the wine wasn’t only about a possible pregnancy, but also about his decision to bring the wine back into the cottage. If she shared, it would no longer be a gift.

He set both glasses hard on the counter. “Stop screwing with me and tell me when you’re supposed to get your period?”

She couldn’t play games any longer. “Next week, but I feel fine. I’m sure I’m not . . . You know.”

“You’re not sure of anything.” He turned away to fill his own glass, not looking at her. “If you are pregnant, I’ll see a lawyer, set up a trust. I’ll make sure you have whatever you . . . you and the kid need.”

No mention of getting rid of “the kid.” “I’m not talking about this,” she said.

He turned back to her, cupping the bowl of the wineglass. “It’s not my favorite topic, either, but you need to know—”

“Stop talking about it!” She gestured toward the stove. “I made dinner. It won’t be as good as yours, but it’s food.”

“Target practice first.”

This time he was all-business.

T
HEIR GLOOMY MOODS DIDN
’
T LIFT
until dinner. The weekly supply boat had brought groceries for Moonraker Cottage, most of which Theo had ordered, and she’d stuck with what she did well—meatballs and homemade spaghetti sauce. It wasn’t haute cuisine, but his enjoyment was obvious. “Why didn’t you make this for me when you were helping Jaycie with dinner?”

“I wanted you to suffer,” she said.

“Mission accomplished.”

He put down his fork. “So how do you want this to play out? More Post-it notes on the bedroom door, or are we going to act like adults and do what we both want?”

Leave it to Theo to get to the point. “I told you. I’m not good at emotionally detaching from sex,” she said. “I know that makes me old-fashioned, but that’s who I am.”

“I have news for you, Annie. You’re not good at emotionally detaching from anything.”

“Yes, well, there’s that.”

He lifted his glass to her. “Have I remembered to say thank you?”

“For me being a sex goddess?”

“That, too. But . . .” He set the glass down and abruptly pushed back from the table. “Hell, I don’t know. My writing’s gone to hell, I have no idea how to protect you from whatever crap is happening here, and pretty soon somebody’s going to ask me to do a fucking heart transplant. But . . . The thing is, I’m not exactly unhappy.”

“Gee. With that kind of progress, you’ll have your own special on Comedy Central in no time.”

“Sensitively put.” He almost smiled. “Now how about it? Are you done with Post-it notes or not?”

Was she? She carried her dirty plate into the kitchen and thought about what was right for her. Not him. Only her. She moved to the kitchen doorway. “Okay, this is what I want. Sex and lots of it.”

“My world just got so much brighter.”

“But impersonal. No cuddling afterward. And absolutely no sleeping in the same bed.” She came back toward the table. “As soon as you’ve satisfied me, we’re done. No cozy little chats. Sleep in your own bed.”