The Amber Stone (6 page)

Nothing was wrong?
She didn’t want to believe it, but now she had to. That night sleep came slowly then when she did dream it was unsettling. She saw the stranger and the bay was a lake of amber.

“Who are you?” she asked him.

“You know who I am.”

She shook her head. “I don’t,” she said then he seemed to fade away. She reached for him, but he disappeared. In an instant she found herself standing in a cemetery in front of her parents’ resting place. She saw a tombstone next to them with no markings. Then she saw him again, except he sat on top of the headstone, gossamer and translucent as a ghost. “I like it here,” he said.

“You’re too young.”

“I may be alive, but my heart is buried down there.” He pointed to the ground. “So deep that no one can reach it.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you can’t save me any more than you could have saved them.”

She saw a couple in the distance. She called out to them, but they kept their backs to her. Why wouldn’t they look at her?

“I’m sorry!” she said. “Please forgive me. Just look at me once. Just once. Please!” but they kept walking away and no matter how much she ran she couldn’t reach them.

Teresa woke up in tears. She’d been wrong about the supplements and she’d been wrong about Bess and her parents. Was she wrong about the stranger too? Had she imagined what she’d felt?

She went to Hollow Cove the next morning, telling herself that she wasn’t looking for the mysterious stranger, that she was there to relax as always. However, she was disappointed when he didn’t show up. The morning was warmer than last, but she still buttoned up her wool coat and tugged on her gloves. She went closer to the edge of the bank and gazed out at the water, almost willing him to appear as he had before. She watched the waves claw their way up the bank and kiss the toes of her shoe. She waited, but the man never showed. She sighed, staring up at the sky.

“Let me hazard a guess,” a deep voice said behind her. “You’re looking for me,”

Teresa spun around, and stared up into the face of the mysterious stranger. The light morning wind brushed the black curls from his forehead and he loomed over her like a willow tree. He was taller than she had remembered. Teresa found herself taking a step back to get a full view. His hand shot out and grabbed her arm, pulling her to him. She stiffened feeling a shock of awareness that was more potent than before. He hadn’t even touched her skin; it didn’t make sense. He immediately let go.

“I don’t think you want to ruin another skirt,” he said, gesturing to the waves.

“Oh.” She glanced over her shoulder, seeing how close she had come to stepping in the water. Heat touched her cheeks. She usually wasn’t so awkward and clearly he didn’t feel anything. “Thanks.”

He shrugged. She noticed that today he was not dressed to swim. He had on his same worn jeans and a bulky grey sweater that gave him the appearance of a fisherman.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Am I looking for you?”

He nodded.

There was no reason to lie. “Uh...yes.”

He laughed briefly, not pleasantly. “At least you’re honest, I didn’t expect that. Come on then.”

Teresa hesitated, staring at his back as he went up the incline. “You might as well come on,” he called over his shoulder. “And satisfy your curiosity.”

She wrapped her coat tighter around herself and followed, trying to keep her heart in check, although it felt as if it would beat out of her chest. He led her up the rocky path to a place that afforded them a beautiful view of the rising sun, peering over the bay. His cat was waiting for him. He gave it a quick pat, mumbling something under his breath. He spread out an old moth-eaten blanket and sat down, stretching out his long legs. He reached for a can of soda from a picnic basket he’d brought.

Teresa eyed the blanket, hoping that it wasn’t crawling with insects she’d unsuspectingly take home with her. After a moment’s hesitation, she finally decided to sit down. The cat stared at her for a few seconds with curious green eyes, then crawled into her lap.

“He likes you,” the man said in a bored tone. “Unlike me, he seems to like people.”

Teresa stroked the cat; it immediately began to purr. “What’s his name?”

“Mist. He adopted me a couple of weeks ago. Just showed up on my doorstep.”

“Oh.” Teresa looked down at the contented cat, whose eyes were closed. The purring grew louder. “I’ve always wanted a cat.”

“Hmm.” He pushed the basket towards her. “Help yourself.”

She took a can of soda and tried to pop the top, but it was difficult with her gloves on. She was about to take them off when the man took the can from her and opened it.

“Thanks,” she said when he handed it back to her. She took a sip, then set it down. “Thanks for helping me the other day with Louisa.”

He shrugged.

“I’m glad she’s okay.”

He shrugged again then looked away.

She took another sip, wondering what else to say. She knew what she wanted to say.
Are you seeing Louisa? Do you know what really happened? Do you feel this strange connection between us
? But she kept silent, searching her mind for something safe.

“What’s your name, then?” he asked, watching her.

“Teresa. Teresa Clifton.” She held out her hand to shake his.

He glanced at the hand then shook his head frowning. “I don’t believe in shaking hands. It gives people a false sense of friendship.”

Teresa withdrew her hand, embarrassed. “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “So what’s your name?”

“Sean Casey.”

“Nice to meet you.”

His eyes swept over her face in a hooded gaze, then he looked away. “We’ll see about that.” He took a gulp of his soda and set it down. “So, Teresa Clifton, why did you stand up for me the other day at the store when you don’t even know me?”

Teresa was slow to reply, too caught up in his voice to pay attention. He had a surprisingly beautiful voice. A stark contrast to his rough appearance. She hadn’t noticed it before. His voice was low, soft and lyrical with a Jamaican/Irish lilt. Teresa found herself straining, waiting to hear the musical cadence of his voice again, which seemed to wash over her like a morning hymn.

She took another small sip of her soda. “I beg your pardon?”

He repeated the question.

Because I think you’re wonderful.
“I don’t know. It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

He unwrapped a sandwich, quirking a questioning eyebrow at her.

She shook her head.

He nodded and finished the sandwich in four bites then grabbed an apple. He turned to rest on his side. “I’m not worth it.”

“Not worth what?”

“Not worth getting in trouble over. It’d be best to try and keep your friends instead of standing up for strangers.”

Teresa stared at her soda can. “They’re not my friends,” she said in a tight voice.

His mouth spread into a wide grin, displaying strong, white teeth. “Ah, I guess I did you a favor, then. You should thank me.”

She sipped her drink, saying nothing, beginning to regret she had said anything. But she could feel his gaze and welcomed it. She’d taken care that morning and hoped he noticed her expensive wool coat, which complemented her brown skin, polished shoes and large gold hoop earrings. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and the wind toyed with the fringe on her forehead. “So you’re the local witch, then?” he said. “I’ve never seen a witch up close before.”

“I’m not a witch.”

“You just like to pretend that you’re one?”

She didn’t reply. What’s the use of explaining it to him? He wouldn’t understand.

He bit into his apple and looked out at the bay. A few moments later he asked, “So why were you looking for me?”

“To thank you.”

“And?”

“And?”

He kept his gaze averted. “I know you have another reason,” he said in a low voice.

She swallowed. “Curiosity,” she said, hoping the depth of her feelings for him didn’t reflect in her voice.

“Yes, it seems I’ve raised the curiosity of a lot of people.” His voice deepened with irritation. “Well, I’m harmless, I’m not here to rape any women, steal any children or rob any men. I just want to be left alone.” He rested back on his elbows and stared at the sky. “I’ll give you the chance to ask me three questions.”

“Only three?”

He sent her a cool look. “I could make it two.”

“Okay.” She thought for a moment. “Where do you come from?”

“My mother.”

She frowned. “That’s no answer.”

He slanted her a sly glance. “Next question.”

She chewed her lower lip. “Why did you move here?”

“To live.”

“Are you always so exasperating?”

“Yes.” He abruptly stood. “Now with your curiosity satisfied, I suggest you leave me alone.”

“No.” She said the word quietly, but the reaction was the same.

Sean’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, giving her a good look at his eyes. They were undoubtedly his most compelling feature, hazel with a hint of innocence. It was then that Teresa knew she would never be afraid of him. He was the one. With every encounter it became more real to her. At first she had put his age as late forties, but seeing him now, she dropped his age considerably. She briefly wondered from what or whom he was hiding.

“What was that you said?” he asked.

She stared up at him.“I said no.”

He folded his arms. “I’m being nice to you right now. Do you want that to change?”

“It won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know why you don’t like to shake hands.”

A series of expressions crossed his face—surprise, fear then anger. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you—”

He pointed at her in warning. “ Say it just once and I’ll make you regret it.”

She stared, surprised by the vehemence of his tone. “But I’m—”

“Stay away from me.”

He began to walk away.

“What about your things?” she asked, indicating the basket, blanket and sleeping cat.

“I’ll come back and get them when you’re gone,” he called over his shoulder.

Teresa turned back to the items, sighing in defeat. She hadn’t learned anything about him except that he had vulnerable eyes, denied his gift and was as irritating as a rash. It was her own fault for seeking him out, she reasoned. He didn’t pretend to be anything he wasn’t. She lifted Mist off her lap, placed him on the ground despite his protesting cry and then stood up, ready to leave as well. She folded the blanket and rested it against the basket. She was about to go when she noticed the picnic basket was open. Just what did a man like Sean Casey bring on a picnic? Mist watched her as if reading her thoughts.

“I’m just curious,” she said. “I’m not going to steal anything.”

Mist gave the best imitation of a cat’s shrug and turned away.

Teresa knelt next to the basket and lifted the lid. There was nothing remarkable inside: three sandwiches, apples and oranges, crackers and cheese, and sodas. Either he ate a lot or he had suspected that he would meet her again. He knew. Why fight it? He was probably somewhere watching her right now like a scientist proving an experiment. She glanced over her shoulder, but didn’t see anyone. She shrugged, it was too late to worry now. Underneath the food, she saw wood and carving tools. She took one small piece of wood out and saw that it was beginning to form the shape of a flute. So he liked to carve things and was perhaps musical. Hmmm....She closed the basket, feeling unfulfilled, instead of finding answers she only had more questions.

“You know who I am,” he’d said in her dream.

“No, I don’t,” she said to herself as she stood.

Then she heard it before she saw it. The roar of an engine. She turned and saw a car weaving out of control and headed right for her.

Teresa froze, then felt as if she’d been hit by a brick wall. She heard the sound of metal being crushed, the smell of burning rubber. It took her a moment to realize that she hadn’t been hit by the car, but rather tackled by Sean.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He quickly looked her over as if assessing to see if she was lying, then turned to the car, which was lodged against a tree it had struck. She followed him.

Sean grabbed the man out of the car, felt for a pulse, then pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911. She heard him relate the man’s vitals to the woman over the phone, while she surveyed the situation. She didn’t smell alcohol.

She touched the man’s hand and sensed that the crash wasn’t the problem. “He’s suffering from an allergic reaction.”

“What?”

“We have to do something or he won’t make it by the time help arrives.”

“Why do you—”

“Help me find an EpiPen!” she said in no mood to argue. She searched his pockets but came up empty. She raced over to the car and searched inside. She saw a bottle of water and a bag of trail mix, but nothing else. She opened the glove compartment and saw papers and a bottle of vitamin supplements from Valley Ray and then her gaze fell on what she was looking for. Before closing the glove compartment, she tucked the bottle away in her coat pocket, then returned to Sean with the EpiPen.