The Amber Stone (5 page)

His mouth fell open when she walked to the front door and easily turned the knob.

“Don’t you lock it?” he asked.

“Never had a need to.”

He frowned but said no more.

He stepped through the door and glanced with appreciation at what he saw. His gaze briefly fell on a colorful array of plants, glass jars and quilted pillows. He didn’t offer the obligatory compliment of her home, but kept his observations to himself. Bertha led him into the kitchen. She went to get the kettle and tripped over a loose tile. “I’m a klutz today,” she muttered, embarrassed.

“It’s not you. The tiles weren’t put down properly. I’ll come by one day and fix them for you. Sit down. I’ll make the tea.”

“I’ll set the table,” she said firmly. She would not allow him to order her about in her own home, no matter how kind his intentions.

He smiled indulgently. “Go ahead then.”

She went to the hutch in her dining room and studied the array of tea sets. She decided to use her most delicate tea set—porcelain with twenty-four carat gold accents—just to test him. This set had put many people on edge with its tiny handles and petite elegance. She laid the setting out and waited. He didn’t even blink at the elaborate tea setting. He poured her tea and milk and held the tea cup in his large hands as comfortably as he would a baseball, at times rubbing his fingers over the intricate designs as if trying to remember them by touch. There was no awkwardness in his movements. As their conversation progressed, she soon concluded that this was no ordinary man. He was well-mannered, educated, and kind. So what made him shun everyone’s attention? She was thinking of how to broach the subject when he spoke.

“So who was that woman who was with you at the market?”

Bertha stared at him for a moment.

“The one who thinks she’s a witch,” he clarified.

She laughed at the description. “Oh, you noticed my little friend, did you?”

“Beautiful women are hard to miss,” he said with casual boredom.

Bertha looked at him sharply. He thought Teresa was beautiful? Few men could see that. And he wasn’t bad looking himself, she suspected he had plenty of female attention. “Why do you ask? Did she make you uncomfortable?”

“No, should she?”

“It was an innocent question.”

A slight, hard smile touched his lips. “I don’t think there’s anything innocent about you, Mother.”

“And yet you still came.”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Because I know what you are.”

“And it doesn’t frighten you?”

He poured more hot water into his tea cup. “I thought people like you had all the answers.”

“Then you really don’t know anything.”

“I respect you, Mother, I’m just weary of your sort.”

“Yet you have the gift to recognize me with just a touch. Few people do.”

“Oh yes, ‘the gift’.” He took a sip of his tea then set it down. “It hasn’t done me much good.” He sat back. “Is she like you too?”

“Can’t you tell?”

“No.”

Bertha wasn’t sure she believed him, but there was a note of uncertainty in his tone that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps what Teresa had sensed he’d felt it too? “Again, you’ll have to ask her.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Afraid?”

He laughed without humor. “Terrified,” he said, then stood. “I’d better go.”

“If you’re not careful, the darkness will kill you.”

He held her gaze. “Is that a promise?”

Bertha shook her head. “You’re too young to toy with such thoughts.”

“But I feel as old as the beginning of time.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d better be going,” he said, clearing the table, then he grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled something down. “Here’s my name and phone number. If you need help just ring. Night or day never hesitate to call.”

For the sake of my loneliness or yours?
she wanted to say, but knew better to keep her thoughts to herself. “Thank you.”

“Goodbye Mother. Thanks for the tea.”

He nodded and Bertha watched him leave with a smile until he was out of sight. Then she let her smile fall.

Louisa set down the plate of roasted chicken and rice on the table and swallowed hard. The rice looked like soggy maggots swimming in slime. She swallowed again, feeling a wave of nausea sweep over her. She couldn't afford to be sick. She needed this job. At least for a couple more weeks. She gulped some air and forced a smile at the customer, a man with ruddy cheeks and beefy hands, letting him pinch her ass. It was normal, expected. Men wanted a good time at Hot Hannah’s Sugar Shack, where the food was hot, but the ladies were hotter. It offered casual dining and was a place of tight T-shirts and short skirts, wooden floors and rocking music. She felt her stomach turn again and prayed it would settle. Hell, it was six in the evening, why did they call it morning sickness when she felt sick nearly all the time?

Thankfully, it wasn't a full night, so she left the table and went outside, grabbed a can of ginger ale and felt her stomach return to normal. She raced into one of the bathroom stalls, lifted up her shirt and pulled down her skirt to adjust her shape wear and the makeshift bandage to keep her changing figure in place. Taping down her stomach wasn't going to be easy soon and damn it hurt. She let the bandage give, allowing herself to breathe without the restraint. Her figure was one of the things that helped her get the job, and once she lost it, she knew she'd lose the job too and she couldn't. Not yet. She rested her head against the wall of the stall and closed her eyes.

If things had turned out differently, she wouldn’t even be in this mess. She’d had to lie at the hospital, remembering telling them that she’d just fallen on some rocks, and no, she hadn’t tried to commit suicide. She didn’t want to be monitored by the staff and she couldn’t let her parents know. Part of her had hoped that the shock to her body would have gotten rid of the problem for her. But it hadn’t. She had to think of something else. But right now she just had to get through the night.

Louisa left the stall and washed her hands then stared at herself in the mirror and fixed her makeup. She was a survivor and she’d survive this.

The bathroom door opened and a pretty redhead with enough curves to make the men drool sauntered in. “Thought I’d find you here,” she said.

“Why?” Louisa asked, putting her lipstick away.

“Dave’s looking for you.”

***

Dave Pearsall looked like the kind of man better suited for Wall Street than as the manager of a greasy spoon in an overlooked county. Not that he looked rich, although his haircuts weren’t done locally, he just carried himself like a man who knew more than most. He was of average height with polished shoes and dark hair slicked back over a bald spot no one dared look at or mention. Louisa sat in his office, which reflected the man, showing pictures of high rises and a quotation and photo of Donald Trump on the wall.

He fixed her with a hard stare, but she wasn’t disturbed by it. He looked at everyone that way. She started to cross her legs then thought better of it and waited.

“You disappointed me, Louisa,” he said, and to her surprise he sounded sincere.

Louisa blinked, feeling her heartbeat race. “What?”

“You got knocked up, didn't you?”

She froze. How could he know? She hadn't told anyone. She thought of lying, but she knew he was good at spotting girls when they were in that state. She had to think fast. “What do you want?”

“You know why I hired you.”

“I still look good.”

“Maybe, but I can't have your face turning green when a guy is smiling at you. He may take it personally and it’s just bad for business. I made the rules clear. There’s no maternity leave. You're out.”

“I just need a couple more weeks.”

“No.”

“But I hardly show.”

“You show enough. If men wanted to see the wide ass of a pregnant chick, they’d stay home with their wives.”

“This isn't fair.”

Dave’s face spread into a cold smile. “What are you going to do? Sue me? Have you read your contract?” He pulled out his checkbook and filled one out. “I’ll give you two weeks.” He tore the check out and handed it to her. “And that’s being generous.”

She stared at it.

“Don’t be too proud.”

She inwardly swore, then took it.

“Does the father know?”

She tucked the check inside her pocket. “I didn’t realize you cared.”

“I don’t, I’m just glad it’s not mine.”

She stood then blew him a kiss, flashing a rude gesture. “Me too.”

Louisa left his office and got into her car, then rested her head on the steering wheel. It wasn’t supposed to end up like this. She’d planned it all so carefully. She’d hoped she’d found the perfect reason to get him to finally leave his wife. She wouldn’t have to share him anymore and he wouldn’t have to feel trapped. She remembered the eagerness with which she’d shown him the sonogram.

“What’s this?” he asked not out of ignorance, but curiosity. He was in a good mood after making love and held her close. They were in their regular hotel room.

“Our baby,” she said.

He sat up. “Our what?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“How long have you known?”

“Long enough. This is the out you needed. So you can leave your wife and we can be together.”

He slapped her hard across the face and looked at her in a way that he’d never looked at her before. As if she repulsed him. “You dumb bitch. You think I’d risk knocking up a piece of trash like you? How do I know it’s mine?”

“Because I haven’t been with anyone else. You’ll have to take care of us or I’ll make you pay.”

But although her words were bold, the pain lingered, consumed her as she drove to Catlon Bay the next morning and as she looked at the waters and realized that he didn’t love her. How could he not love her when she loved him so much? She remembered sinking into nothingness, then waking up in an ambulance. Part of her hoping he’d materialize by her bedside and tell her how sorry he was. Tell her that he didn’t mean it and that he’d take care of her and their baby. Worship her for giving him the family he’d always wanted. Didn’t he say that she was the only one who truly understood him? That his wife never made him feel the way she did? But he hadn’t come and he hadn’t returned any of her calls. There had to be another way to get him back. He did love her. She had to believe it or life truly wasn’t worth living.

***

Teresa stared at the report in shock. The supplements made by Valley Ray contained exactly what they claimed. She sat in the empty chemistry lab of her friend Dr. Wallace Knox at the local university.

“Nothing?” she asked, just to make sure.

“Nope. I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“But I was certain.”

“I could do another test if you want.”

“No, you did enough. I’m sorry I wasted your time,” Teresa said, suddenly feeling foolish about her suspicions. She’d befriended him while a student and had kept in touch after graduation. He had a trim goatee, lanky frame and large glasses. She always had to stop herself from asking if he’d eaten. But now she didn’t care about food. She was wrong.

“Valley Ray is a solid company,” he said, although those weren’t the words she’d wanted to hear.

“I guess so.”

“I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I can’t believe I was so wrong.”

“It happens to the best of us.”

She nodded and left.

Wallace wasn’t surprised when his cell phone rang a few minutes later. “Well?” the female voice demanded on the other end.

“I did what you told me.”

“I knew she wouldn’t listen. At least she’s predictable.”

“I won’t do this again. Next time I’ll check for real.”

The woman laughed. “You want to negotiate for more?”

“I mean it. I don’t like faking tests, no matter how harmless.”

“Don’t start developing a conscience now, you already sold it to me.”