Knock, knock... (7 page)

The two older men hugged each other while Roman and Shay looked on. Then, first the one, and then the other, bent to kiss Bernice's cheeks.

Using the moment of silence, Shay switched her vision to search the room, on the off chance that Bernice was still there. It happened sometimes. That people stayed close to their bodies after death. Close to what they knew. She searched carefully. And there was no sign of Bernice – in any form.

"What are you looking for?" Roman asked, his voice reeking with curiosity.

She started. "I don't know, just looking at the private rooms." God, that was lame. She raised an eyebrow at him.

A smile played at the corner of his mouth. His gaze, direct and determined, held hers. "And now that we have a few moments of privacy, I have another question for you."

"Oh." Shay stared are him, waiting.

That gaze, that could be so warm and caring, deepened to one that was dark and penetrating. "Why are you afraid of me?"

Oh shit.

***

Roman walked into his loft drained. The evening at the hospital had been emotionally charged with Bernice's passing. Gerard and Charles had loved that woman, with a deep abiding love that Roman had never dreamed existed.

Grateful for this piece of calm and serenity within the city, Roman walked out onto his large waterfront deck and breathed deeply of the fresh evening air.

He'd just come home from dropping off his grandfather. He'd hated to leave him alone, but the older man insisted he wanted to grieve on his own. In truth, Roman also wanted the time to think. To think about Shay.

She'd been so caring, so loving with her grandfather. He respected that. Actually he loved that about her. The work she did, the people she chose to help. He had known about that, and who she was, before they met. But he hadn't
known
her – not like this. In fact, he was liking everything he was learning.

Needing the connection, Roman walked into his studio and stared at the latest sketch. He glanced at an earlier one on the wall. Not good enough for showing, but something about the colors made the hanging one special. Like many of the early pictures, he had been compelled to add pale blue in the picture. Like gentle smoke.

He'd fought against adding it, but it seemed the pictures weren’t complete until he'd added a blue swirl. For that reason, he often incorporated the blue into the flowing design of the draping material or gown.

Then about a year ago, that insistence had eased, the blue was still there, but it was no longer as prominent.

For a long time he'd wondered about that compulsion to add blue, then decided it had to be part of his artistic growth. As he looked at his current picture, he realized that there was a thin blue film over the figure in the painting, like the brush had whispered a faint blush of blue. It created only the slightest of shimmers.

Done in midnight black, Shay's long, elegant back faced him with her hair drifting across the canvas. The picture stopped at the chin line. His own preference. He wanted to do a full body with her beautiful facial features but so far had resisted. Something had stopped him. He didn't know what or why. While the pictures remained only of her form, then he could fool himself to believe she was
only
his model.

If he did break down and add her face – something he knew he couldn't do yet – he'd be telling the world who she was…and how important she was to him. By creating her full image for all eternity, he would be acknowledging Shay was his muse.

And that would change things.

His muse was a living, breathing thing to him. A relationship he lived with daily.

And if he acknowledged she was his muse, he'd be acknowledging that she was not only necessary in his world but she was his passion.

He swallowed hard.
Could that be?

And if she was his passion...it was a short hop to considering...acknowledging he wanted her to become his partner, his other half...his one true love.

Still that was a step he hadn’t taken. Yet.

***

The next morning on the other side of town…

Why was his neighbor coming down his walk? David Cummings lowered the gas can nozzle into the small tank of his lawnmower when Melanie Sergeant called out his name. She tugged her poodle toward him.

David swore under his breath. His wife often teased him that he mowed his lawn every Sunday morning from April to October, like clockwork, as particular about his lawn as the teeth of the patients in his dental practice.

And that meant his neighbors knew where and when to find him. Most of the time that was fine.

Just not today. Today was special. And he didn't have time to chitchat. He hoped Melanie wasn’t selling more chocolate bars for the school she taught at. He just didn't have time today.

He planned to take  Diane to brunch and surprise her with a cruise to Scotland. Five kids and she deserved it. Hell, he deserved it, too. She'd likely cry when she found out. Hell, he might too. Thirty-five years together and still going strong. Damn he was a lucky man

And he could survive a chat with his neighbor for a few minutes.

"’Morning, Melanie. How are you doing this beautiful weekend?"

As Melanie walked closer, he realized there was something different about her. She looked normal, but… His throat tightened and instinctively he wanted to back away from her. He swallowed hard and resisted. That was foolish. He pasted a smile on his face.

"I'm doing great. It's a lovely day, isn't it?" She gave him a bright smile then a frown appeared on her forehead, and her eyes darkened.

Like really dark.

“Are you okay?” He stepped toward her, and as he did, her eyes sharpened, and went almost black. That was wrong.

He forced himself closer, if she needed help… He wasn’t a physician, but he knew enough to give basic CPR. Though his skin was creeping, and his head...

What was wrong with his head?

He blinked. Then blinked again. What was wrong with her eyes?

The light was off. Surely that must be this sudden headache. And the pain stabbing through his chest. Stabbing and stabbing. He could hardly breathe. He opened his mouth to speak, but the only sound that came out of his mouth was a name.

“Angela.”

His wife. The love of his life. Angela. He held onto the thought and the image of her as the pain accelerated. He dropped to his knees, then slid sideways to the grass. Damn. Please let this not be a heart attack. The doctors had warned him, but…

Melanie was leaning over him, a look of horror on her face. And her eyes, wide, brown… normal again. How? What?

Then she was screaming and running with her dog to the house, and he was staring at the sky. The pain lower now. In his chest. And he knew he was going to die and would not make it to Scotland.

Suddenly Angela was bending over him, tears running down her beloved face. “Hang on, David, don’t you dare die. Damn it, I love you. I need you.”

He opened his mouth. It hurt to breathe, much less talk. But if he didn’t say it now... “Love you.” he choked out. His chin trembled as he fought against the pain, as if it were a live thing inside him—not like any death that he’d ever imagined—and he managed one smile and one more word. “Yes.”

Then the pain took him and he cried out. She squeezed his hand and cried out, “David I love you.”

I love you back.

And then the pain stopped, and there was nothing.

Monday morning…

M
onday morning dawned bright and clear. But Shay was still tired and confused and chose to take refuge from the crazy weekend by checking out the large animal sanctuary, Exotic Landscape. This was one of her pet projects funded by her foundation. These animals, all kinds and sizes, needed help…and Shay was a sucker for kids and animals. Interestingly enough, Tabitha, who ran the operation, was like Shay...psychic.

Shay'd always loved going there, but this last year she'd damned near lived there. It was a place she could rest, drop her barriers and relax.

And there was another reason to go to the sanctuary – she could use the healing calm for herself right now. And it was Shay's way to get her animal fix. Something she’d needed since Morris's disappearance a year ago.

The animals, of course, required a whole different level and kind of energy care. They didn't hide, manipulate or deceive. Each animal had a happiness or health level that was easy to see. Shay always walked through to make sure they were doing okay. Of course, Tabitha did that regularly. And her caring as the animals thrived here.

Tabitha worked Tuesday to Saturday. Once the two women, of similar age, found each other, and discovered what the other had been hiding from the world, they had become fast friends.

After all, they could communicate on the same level.

They couldn't hide anything from the other – for that same reason. It had taken years to solidify the trust, but once they'd found a comfort level, the relationship gave them immeasurable peace.

Tabitha barreled into her office and plunked down on the single visitor's chair. "Okay, give."

Shay rolled her eyes. "I thought this was your day off?"

Tabitha grinned. "It is. So? No trying to change the subject. What's with you and the hunk?"

"Hunk?" Shay asked dryly, trying to marshal her thoughts, knowing it was hard to hide anything from her friend.

"That's how you think of him so that's what I know." The heat climbed Shay's face, and Tabitha chuckled. "And I am delighted for you."

"Hey, it's nothing."

Tabitha tilted her and let out a heavy sigh of disgust. "It's me, remember. You wanted to meet this guy."

"Yeah, well… It's not so simple." Leaning back, she shared what had been going on and what she knew. "Besides, there's lots of weird stuff going on in my life right now."

"Have you looked at him closer?"

"Only briefly. He's got a big wall up. But I don't get the impression he's like that with other people, just me. There’s something he doesn’t want me to know. And that scares me." Shay stared at her old friend. "And because I know there's something there––"

"You're scared to have anything to do with him." Tabitha nodded. "But that reaction is just common sense. Still you can't compare everyone you meet to the asshole, Darren. And even if there is something else there...it doesn't have to mean that he’s out to harm you. It could mean anything."

"I know, but––"

"But you're avoiding going any deeper just in case," Tabitha finished for her. "There's that fear factor again.

Shay dropped her gaze to study the stack of papers on her desk.

"It's difficult."

"And yet, don't you want to know for sure?" Tabitha prodded.

Shay stared at her in astonishment. "But that's the problem. I won't ever truly
know
. I'll look, assume what I see is what's there, and wonder ever after if he is camouflaging what he's doing, like Darren did. Darren could make his energy look
so
normal on the outside, yet he was something
so
different on the inside. He could change his energy so I'd never suspect." She shrugged. "So why bother trying with Roman? Why torment myself wondering if what I'm seeing is real or not?"

"That doesn't make sense, you know that? You’ll torment yourself if you never take the chance to find out." Tabitha shook her head. "You're going to wonder anyway."

"I know." Shay sighed. That's what Stefan said."

***

Shay strode into her office Monday morning and sat down in her leather executive chair. She'd come in early enough to be alone – or so she'd hoped. There was something about having the space to herself before the day officially began...

But today that wasn't to be.

Jordan, her assistant, raced in behind her, discarding her coat and purse on the way. When she had Shay’s attention, she said, "Oh my God! Did you hear the news?"

Oh no.

Dread coiled inside.
Was this about Bernice’s death? Or something else?
Hadn't she had enough bad news already? "I don't know. There's been a lot happening. What news are
you
talking about?" she countered, flipping through the stack of folders on her desk

"It's about David Cummings. He's dead." Jordan brought today's mail to Shay's desk and sorted it in front of her.

Shay looked at Jordan and blinked. Her gaze latched onto the silver, cascading rings lining Jordan's ear. Surely that much weight, if not the incessant clanging as the rings banged against each other, had to give Jordan a headache? With difficulty Shay focused on what Jordan had been trying to tell her.
"Who?"