The Amber Stone (15 page)

She went to his private practice. He kept his expression fixed when he saw her, although there was an edge of tension she chose to ignore. She smiled at him. “I may have a way to help you with business.”

Helene kept her gaze on the television screen when she heard her husband come through the door. She briefly let her gaze glance at the wall clock. The living room was designed more for style than function and they both liked it that way. The sparse furniture and minimal accents suited them. She smiled at the portrait of a little Siamese. Precious had been a darling cat, too bad they’d had to get rid of her because she clashed with the furniture. Fortunately, the aquarium was a better fit. She liked the life she’d created with her husband and she wouldn’t let anything change that.

She still couldn’t believe Teresa had taken over a store. She’d carefully damaged her reputation after her aunt Bess’s death and didn’t think Teresa would ever have the gumption to use the money that she knew should have stayed in the family. It just proved that Teresa wasn’t the sweet innocent everyone thought she was. Her aunt had been so besotted with her. She always pretended that she didn’t know how much people liked her, acting as if she didn’t know how much older people and children loved her company.

But Helene knew Teresa was a threat. She remembered the first time she’d heard about her aunt’s new piano teacher. From her aunt’s description, Teresa Clifton was an accomplished woman who had traveled extensively as a young pianist and had gotten a degree in Music. She only had a select number of students. Helene had been delighted for her aunt, who seemed excited that she’d been chosen, but when she met Teresa, that joy died. First, Teresa was a lot younger than she’d expected—about six years younger than herself—and she was not only an accomplished musician, but she knew about herbs at a level that stunned her. She’d studied for hours to gain the information that had easily rolled off Teresa’s tongue. Teresa made her feel like a fraud. She didn’t act impressed by the fact that Helene was a Master Herbalist and that her husband was a doctor.

Teresa had a special way of assessing people’s needs. Any time she and Aunt Bess visited the store, people would ask her questions and Teresa would smile and patiently answer their questions. Teresa always smiled a lot, but her smiles were superior and smug. Aunt Bess’s death had put an end to that.

But now Teresa’s shop was a rival. She couldn’t believe it was actually doing well without Valley Ray products. Its success threatened them and had come as a surprise. They dominated the market in their county and she planned to keep it that way. She just had to figure out how.

Thomas came into the room and bent over to place a light kiss on her cheek. An unfamiliar whiff of perfume lingered when he stood.

She sighed annoyed. “Must you smell like one of your whores when you come home?”

“I think I found a solution to our problem.”

She turned to him, eager, remembering why she ignored his infidelities. “What?”

“I have someone working at Teresa’s store willing to give us some valuable information.”

Spring with its promises of everything new and fresh gave Teresa the courage to believe that she could make all her dreams come true. Her store was flourishing and her relationship with Sean, although still nebulous, gave her hope that she could turn his feelings towards her into something more. She worked in the garden she’d started at the side of the store to let visitors see what they could grow and use themselves. She hoped to eventually hold classes or workshops and educate the community about the use of herbs in cooking and healing. She was glad for the spring rain. It made the ground soft and easier to weed.

Teresa was doing just that when she heard Sean’s truck roar in. It coughed and groaned then quieted.

“When are you going to put that thing out to pasture?” she asked him without looking up.

“Priscilla? Never. I saved her from the scrap heap and she’s served me well ever since.”

“I see,” she said, wrestling with a nasty looking weed when two large boots stopped in front of her. She paused and stared up at him. His face looked tired and his eyes a little red, making her wonder how much—and often—he enjoyed going to Preek’s Bar.

“I never knew the depths of masochistic pleasure ‘til I met you,” Sean said. He grinned and squatted down in front of her. He handed her a package wrapped in a brown paper bag. “Here.”

“Why do you always come around bearing gifts?”

He smiled. “There’s no crime in it. Take the bag.”

“What is it for?”

“Do I really need a reason?” He shoved the package into her hand.

With a show of great reluctance, just to tease him, Teresa opened the package. It was a limited edition, fully illustrated JS Braden book. She gave a little squeal. “Where did you get this?” she asked, hugging it to her chest.

“Do you like it?”

“You really have to ask me that?” she said in surprise, then impulsively hugged him. “ I know it’s expensive and I probably should say ‘no you shouldn’t have’, but I won’t. Thank you!”

He held her snugly, letting out a relaxed breath. “I’m glad you like it, Sweets.”

Teresa smiled, her cheeks warming at the nickname he’d given her. “I love it.”

He continued to hold her then drew away. “I’m glad.”

She laughed, running her hand over the embossed cover. “It’s beautiful. But you don’t have to keep giving me gifts.”

He tossed her gloves aside, wiping his hands together. “I know.”

“Have you read her work?”

“No, I don’t read.”

Teresa stared at him appalled. “You don’t read?”

“I like to live life, not read about it.”

“Then you’re missing out on a lot.”

He shrugged, unconcerned. “Maybe, maybe not. Books just sprout the ideas of their creators. I prefer to create my own ideas.”

“And have no one dispute them?”

“JS Braden’s books are just children’s fantasies.”

“JS Braden’s books aren’t just fantasies. They’re new ways to look at life. I love to put myself into the world of magic and dreams.”

Sean lightly touched a flower petal. “Do you believe in magic?”

“No.”

He lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. “A witch that doesn’t believe in magic, that’s strange.”

“I’m not a witch.”

“I have yet to figure that out. For the past couple of weeks I’ve wondered if you’ve put me under a spell.”

“Well, if I had, you’ve awakened from it.”

“I’ll decide that.”

“I already know.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because if I truly had you under a spell you would…”
be in love with me
she silently finished.

“I would what?” he pressed.

She turned away no longer able to face him. “Not be driving a truck that’s about to die on the side of the road and I’d know why a former high-priced doctor was volunteering at a clinic.”

“I’ll tell you one day.”

“But not today?” she asked, looking at him.

He shook his head.

“See? I have no power over you so you have nothing to worry about.”

He playfully tweaked her cheek. “How wrong you are. Sometimes I wonder if you’re as naïve as you look.”

“I’m not naïve, although my sisters would say so,” Teresa said, wishing her racing heart would return to normal. Just the touch of his hand made it flutter. “I don’t believe in magic, but I believe in dreams. Every single one. Even the wild ones that dart out of your grasp like dragonflies.” She turned back to him, ready to meet his stare. “All dreams must be handled with care.”

“
But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly, for you tread on my dreams
.”

She grabbed his sleeve, her eyes wide. “You know Yeats?”

“Not personally.” He grinned. “Was that a little too learned for you?”

Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “I thought you didn’t read.”

“I don’t read generally, but I’m not completely aliterate.”

“I didn’t say you were. Do you believe in dreams?”

Sean shook his head and turned away to watch an ant try to carry a large leaf. “I believe that dreams are what makes life tolerable,” he explained. He met her eyes. “However, I do believe in magic. The daily elves who toil to show us the wonders of what is usually hidden from view.”

“Like what?”

Like the fact that right now, right at this moment in her muddy jeans and lopsided ponytail with her fresh plain face, she was beautiful to him. Beautiful like dewdrops on a spider web, a robin’s redbreast against a tall tree, a calm ocean reflecting the rays of the setting sun. There definitely had to be magic that day, in this muddy weedy garden, that had been sprinkled in his eyes. God how he wanted her. He inwardly groaned, he knew he was treading on dangerous territory. He was on the edge of falling in love.

But Teresa was too gentle for the passion that consumed him, his wild ways. The ones he was careful to keep hidden. She needed guidance, not someone who would overwhelm her, not someone who would take as much as he could. He could never offer her what she needed.

He glanced down at his boots, trying to clear his roaming thoughts. “Like...like friendship.”

“Or love?” Teresa said in an eager voice. “The ability to be able to look at someone for years then suddenly see them in a new and transformed way, I believe in that kind of magic too.”

He sighed. “And it’s a magic I can’t offer you, but—”

“That’s okay.”

His head shot up and he looked at her, amazed by her simple acceptance. She didn’t know how much power she already had over him. She truly was innocent; he could use that to his advantage. He wouldn’t let himself fall in love with her, but he wouldn’t deny how much he wanted her. “Teresa. Let’s go out tomorrow.”

Louisa’s voice cut through Teresa’s reply. “She can’t. She’s going to a party with me.”

“With you?” Sean looked at Teresa then back at her cousin.

“Yes, isn’t that right, Teresa?”

For a moment Teresa looked torn then said, “Yes.”

Sean nodded. “Okay, then we’ll do it another time.”

He stood and left.

Teresa stood too and turned to her cousin. “Why did you say that?”

“Because I’m saving you from making a big mistake. If you’re too eager, you’ll just be a ‘man bag’. You know, something a guy carries around because he has too, but not something he shows off to the guys. Some people call it friends with benefits. I call it being a loser.”

“But I don’t think—”

“I know men more than you do. Trust me, let me show you some tricks that we’ll try at the party to help make Sean yours.”

***

Teresa regretted going to Louisa’s party the moment she stepped into the place.

“This is not like those fancy parties you’re probably used to,” Louisa had warned as they got into the car. “But it’ll be worth it.”

Teresa wasn’t sure of that. But she did know she was wearing too much makeup, too tight clothes, and she was out of her element. She’d let her younger cousin take the lead because it made her happy and Teresa didn’t see the harm in it until it was too late to change her mind.

The party was held at Preek’s Bar, a rundown pool hall that had a crooked roof, but solid wood flooring and drinks that flowed freely. When Louisa and Teresa entered, eyes turned to them, though Teresa didn’t see it through the haze of smoke. Louisa deposited her at a table, then immediately disappeared. The music was a mixture of calypso, jazz and salsa.

Abandoned and not knowing what to do, Teresa rested her arms on the wooden table and listened to the exploding drumbeat that deafened most of the dance song’s melody. She felt calm, smelling the pungent odor of cigar smoke and weed. The dancing couples appeared as dark shadows swinging to and fro in the warm, sweat-soaked room.

A few men came up to her, but after saying yes to one man with hands like an octopus, she declined other requests. The crowd quickly changed from civil to rowdy once one o’clock rolled around.