Hunting Eve (10 page)

“No?” He smiled knowingly. “I dream about you, Jane. And I plan on continuing to do so. Perhaps I can persuade you to join me … again.”

“Screw you.”

“That’s my most earnest wish.” He sat down and leaned back against the wall. “But until we’re in complete agreement, I won’t push. And I’ll try not to overpower you with my presence. I’m staying tonight to make sure that your fever goes down entirely, and you’re totally on your way to recovery. After that, I’ll stick to normal visiting hours.”

“Am I supposed to thank you? I don’t need you, Caleb.”

“But it’s my duty to protect and distract you. I have to obey Margaret. Close your eyes and go to sleep, Jane.”

“I’d sleep better if you weren’t here. You always—”

“Disturb you? I hope that I do. You’ve disturbed me from the moment that I met you. Have you ever thought that if we have sex, we might get it out of our systems and be able to walk away from it?”

“I can walk away from it now. You’re the last person I want in my life, Caleb. I’m grateful for the help you’ve given me, but I don’t want my life to be thrown into turmoil. You’re too … volatile.”

“That’s without question. But have you ever considered how exciting it is to walk on the dark as well as the bright paths? Volatility can have its charms.”

She didn’t answer.

“Mark Trevor is all bright paths. But you tried him as your lover, and you sent him away.” He paused. “I won’t let him back into your life.”

“I’ll do as I wish. It’s not your decision.”

“That’s true. We’re all responsible for our own actions. But one action sometimes triggers another.” He chuckled. “And I’ve noticed that what you do has a very potent effect on me. Actually, I welcome Trevor’s arrival. It will make things even more interesting.”

Jane was suddenly tired of fighting, tired of struggling against Caleb.

“This isn’t a game, Caleb,” she said wearily. “I can’t care what you want or what Trevor wants. Not when I don’t know what’s happening to Eve. You’re just not important.”

“You’re sad. And I don’t like it.” His smile vanished as he studied her. “You’re such a wonderful, strong antagonist, I sometimes forget that you can be hurt. And then you show me your vulnerability, and somehow it robs me of any victory. It’s not supposed to work like that.” He shook his head. “If I were Trevor, I’d probably be over there holding your hand and making soothing but sincere noises. That’s not me.” He was silent. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to take the ache away. I’m finding it … surprisingly painful.”

“I’m not vulnerable, I’m just … tired.”

“Then go to sleep.” He turned out the lamp next to him, plunging the room into darkness. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

“The hell I won’t.”

“And if you dream, it will be of your Eve. After all, she’s the only one who is worth anything to you.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“No, truthful. And since I find I can’t bear the thought of your being sad, I believe I’m going to have to make sure that you’re reunited without either of us going through that trauma.” He paused. “I like Eve, too, Jane. I don’t want anything to happen to her. But I’m just a man, and other more lascivious emotions get in the way occasionally.” He chuckled. “Well, more than occasionally. I’ll work on trying to exert more control.”

“That will be a first. Margaret calls you one of the wild ones.”

“I knew she was perceptive.” His voice was soft, soothing. “Stop talking and go to sleep. Forget about me. Dream about Eve and the good times. You had so many with her, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Her eyes closed. “Beautiful times, silver mornings…”

“What? Silver mornings?”

Sitting on the porch swing with Eve and feeling the love like a warm bond between them. Eve had more than saved her life and taken her into her home when she was a child. She had woven love and friendship into a bright yet mellow quilt of feeling. She could remember the smell of the pine trees, the breeze from the lake on her cheeks and Eve … always Eve.

“Silver mornings?” he repeated.

“Nothing.” And everything.

Love. Warmth. Clear and bright as a silver morning that would never tarnish.

Eve …

Rio Grande Forest
Colorado

WALK FASTER, EVE THOUGHT.
Keep the blood flowing; that would fight off the cold.

It wasn’t doing a terrific job at the moment, she thought ruefully. She couldn’t stop shaking. The wind was picking up again, and it cut like a knife. She wanted desperately to go back to the place where she’d left the duffel for safekeeping and cuddle down under the blanket.

Not now. She had a job to do. She’d been unable to find any trace of a road in the ground she’d been covering. That left only the rock road she’d traveled with Doane to make the call to Joe. A road led to civilization. A road led to people. Otherwise, she’d be stumbling around here just hoping to run across a way to save herself. But she had to make sure that she was not going down a blind alley when she tried to go down that road.

If she could manage to dodge Doane. She was getting more and more tired, and he had all the advantages.

She must be tired if she was permitting herself to get discouraged. Stop it. She’d get through this.

Find the road. The house was right over the next hill. She’d just get to the edge of the cliff and try to see where the road led after it left the house.

The cliff where she’d thrown Kevin’s skull.

Kill you. Burn you.

Imagination. Only memory this time.

Don’t look down into that abyss where she’d thrown the reconstruction.

She crested the hill and saw the house below. Was Doane down there? It was daylight, and she couldn’t tell by lights. He could be there if he’d stalked her all night.

Maybe.

She couldn’t be certain of anything. That would be a fatal mistake.

Look at the rock road. It curved from the front of the house around to the back and disappeared down a slope.

From this angle. If she got closer to the edge of the cliff, she might be able to see where that slope was leading. She started slipping and sliding off the trail.

Kill you. Burn you.

She felt the tension start to overcome her. Push it back. She was defeating herself.

She balanced on the edge of the cliff and stared down at the road as it disappeared down the slope. Still not the right angle. She moved a few steps forward.

Yes.

The road appeared to lead straight down the hill into the valley.

And it ended in a cluster of roofs!

A town?

Oh, God, please let it be a town.

Too dark, too far away, to be sure. She was looking from this strange angle and could only see these few roofs.

She tried to move farther along the edge.

No way. She’d topple over if she went another few inches.

She’d just have to gamble and take the road and try to reach that cluster of roofs.

Not now. She had to see where she was going. Doane could not only track her but could use the truck to go after her once she started on the road. Go back and get her belongings. Rest. Then, when the hunt started again, she’d try to lead him in a different direction and double back.

Hope was zinging through her as she turned and started climbing the slope back to the path.

Kill you. Burn you.

She inhaled sharply, but she kept her gaze away from the abyss.

I don’t hear you, Kevin.

You hear me. Come to me. Bring me back.

Don’t think about him, she told herself as she reached the path and started to run. Think of something else. Anything.

Silver mornings …

Where had that come from?

Oh, she knew where those words had been spoken.

Jane.

But it had been a long time ago, and she hadn’t thought about them for years. Jane had been in college and come back from Scotland, where she had been hunting the answers to a mystery about Cira, an actress who had supposedly been killed in the eruption of the volcano at Herculaneum thousands of years ago. Dreams about Cira had been haunting Jane since she was a girl of seventeen. She had found her answers in Scotland in the form of a letter written by Cira.

In that letter, Cira had wished her sister, Pia, velvet nights and silver mornings, and those words had fascinated, puzzled, and touched Jane.

And she had shared that fascination with Eve one night when they had sat together on the porch at the lake cottage.

“You understand everything I’ve ever gone through,” Jane said as she looked up at Eve from where she was sitting on the porch step. “That’s why I can talk to you when I can’t talk to anyone else.”

Eve was silent a moment. “Not even Mark Trevor?”

Jane shook her head. “It’s too new, just scratching the surface. He makes me pretty dizzy, and that doesn’t help for analyzing a relationship.” She hesitated, thinking about it. “Cira wrote about velvet nights and silver mornings. She was talking about sex, of course, but the silver mornings meant something else to her. I’ve been trying to puzzle it out. A relationship that changed the way she saw everything?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m too hardheaded. It would probably take a long time before I let myself feel like that.”

“A long, long time.” Eve wasn’t sure if she was talking about Jane or her own experiences.

“Maybe it won’t ever happen to me. But Cira was pretty hardheaded herself, and she was the one who told Pia what to look for.”

“Silver mornings…” Eve put her cup down on the railing and sat down on the step beside Jane. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it?” She put her arm around Jane. “Fresh and clean and bright in a dark world. May you find them someday, Jane.”

“I already have them.” She smiled at Eve. “You give one to me every day. When I’m down, you bring me up. When I’m confused, you make everything clear. When I think there’s no love in the world, I remember the years you gave me.”

Eve chuckled. “Somehow I don’t believe that was what Cira was talking about.”

“Maybe not. She never had an Eve Duncan, so she might not have realized that silver mornings aren’t restricted to lovers. They can come from mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers, good friends…” She contentedly put her head on Eve’s shoulder. The breeze was chilly but brought with it the scent of pines and the memory of years past, when she had sat like this with Eve. “Yes, definitely good friends. They can change how you see your world, too.”

“Yes, they can.”

They sat in silence for a long time, gazing out at the lake. Finally, Eve sighed and said, “It’s very late. I suppose we should go in.”

Jane shook her head. “That makes too much sense. I’m tired of being reasonable. It seems all my life I’ve forced myself to be practical and sensible, and I’m not sure I haven’t missed a heck of a lot by not letting in a little whimsy. My roommate, Pat, always told me that if your feet are planted firmly on the ground then you’ll never be able to dance.” She smiled at Eve. “Hell, let’s not go to bed. Let’s wait for the dawn and see if it comes up silver.”

*   *   *

AND THEY HAD STAYED UP
all night and talked and exchanged thoughts that had made the bond between them forge new strengths.

Silver mornings …

Jane had never really let that joy she had spoken about become part of her life, and Eve felt a sudden sadness. She had thought for a while Mark Trevor would be able to break through that wariness, but though they had become lovers, that had never happened.

A sudden gust of wind took her breath away. The temperature was dropping, and she had to get to the meager shelter she had made for herself. She increased her pace and didn’t look back at the abyss. At least, that memory of Jane had banished the horror that had seemed to attack her. It had made her think of Jane and love and family. It had reminded her that hope always emerged from despair if you opened the door.

It had reminded her of silver mornings …

Gwinnett Hospital

“IS YOUR FEVER BACK?
You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Caleb’s voice.

Jane opened her eyes to see him standing over her. “Cold. So cold.”

His hand was on her forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.” His gaze was narrowed on her face. “And you’re not shaking any longer. Are you still cold?”

She shook her head as she struggled to sit up in bed. “I’m not cold. It was Eve … Eve was so cold. And trying to keep from being frightened of him.”

“Who? Doane?”

“No, Kevin, but she seemed to think of them as one person.” She drew a deep, shaky breath. “Crazy dream. So real…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He sat down on the bed. “Sometimes it helps.”

“It was just Eve looking down at a road. She was in the forest, and it was cold. She could see her breath as she ran. She was tired of being cold and knew she had to find a way out.” Jane shuddered. And she, too, had been cold and wanting desperately to find a way to keep that cold away from Eve. “That’s all. It was all jumbled. But it seemed very real.”

“Do you often have stressful dreams?” He smiled. “I promise that any you have about me will be more pleasant.”

“No, I rarely dream.” She said jerkily as she reached for the bottle of water on the bedside table. “I used to have fairly frequent dreams but then she—they stopped coming.”

“She?”

She should have known he’d pick up on that slip. What the hell. It didn’t matter. “When I was about seventeen, I started to have dreams about a woman who lived in ancient Herculaneum. She was an actress, and her name was Cira. They were strange dreams and were almost like a serial unfolding about her life and her lover.” She took a swallow of water. “They were so real, it was driving me crazy, and I decided to go find out if she actually existed.”

“And did she?”

“Yes. She was the one who wrote in a letter to her sister about silver mornings.”

“Fascinating. And so unlike you to go investigate a dream image. You’re the most stubborn realist I’ve ever met. Did it shock you to find that there was no sensible explanation?”