The Artisans (21 page)

The clock on the wall ticks. The second hand mocks me, sucking time into a black hole as I sit at my worktable and groan. I shuffle through stacks of paperwork but can’t focus. The three days back from New York seem more like three weeks.

Edgar winds around my feet, and I lean down to scratch his ears. His purr is my reward. With a sigh, I abandon the waiting sketches and open my book of Edgar Allan Poe poetry.

“Yes, I now feel that it was then on that evening of sweet dreams—that the very first dawn of human love burst upon the icy night of my spirit. Since that period I have never seen nor heard your name without a shiver, half of delight, half of anxiety
…
”

Gideon’s face floats around in my head. The image of him in my chair the morning after I fell from the tree haunts me, looking all mysterious and
smexy
and stupid. I slam my book shut. Gah! “Loser.” I have Stockholm disease, syndrome, whatever. That must be it, right? It’s a thing, as Maggie would say.

As I toss the book down on the table, the corner of an envelope sticks out. The letter I’d stolen from Gideon’s desk. How on earth could I have forgotten? I cut myself some slack. The fall from the tree, insomnia, worry over Ben, not to mention all the general, ghostly weirdness in this house is reason enough, I suppose. Still, I’m surprised I forgot.

With no small amount of guilt, I slip the envelope from between the pages and withdraw the letter inside.

Dear Mr. Maddox, esquire,

Please accept the school’s deepest regrets and our most sincere apologies for the incident occurring last Tuesday. The four boys responsible for locking Gideon in the cafeteria freezer have confessed and received one week’s suspension each.

I quite understand your workload and inability to fly here to oversee your son’s hospitalization, but the doctors confirm he is doing very well. Thank you for allowing Gideon to remain enrolled for another semester. He is intelligent, well mannered, and a favorite among our educators. As I stated on the telephone, all tuition fees are waived from last term. We assure you that hazing new students is not a common problem at Malcolm College.

To ensure that this will not be a repeat occurrence, we are adding new security measures to the campus and heightening the supervision of our student body as a whole to prevent this ever happening again.

If you have any questions or concerns regarding this matter, please feel free to discuss them with me.

Yours respectfully,

S. Allen Gamble, Headmaster

The letter flutters to my lap like a dying leaf from a tree. Oh, Gideon. What must you have gone through? The anger I felt toward myself a moment ago for my attraction to him, shifts to the boys that hurt him, and to his selfish father.

No matter what Gideon’s done to me, I can’t ignore the pain he must have suffered as a child. He’s still suffering. The reasons Gideon Maddox became who he is are becoming clearer, but he still had a choice. I can’t call him blameless. I don’t know what to call him. Why does he tug on my emotions this way?

Edgar jumps to the table. I survey all the work waiting there for me, though I feel less like working now than before. My heart is a stone in the pit of my stomach.

Gideon …

I stare at the piles of work on my desk. The trademark for my new clothing line is in place and registered, logo done and demographic targeted. I say
my
line but it isn’t, it’s Gideon’s. He had his lawyers construct a subsidiary company, Raedoxx Apparel, under the name Maddox Properties as an LLC. Business plans, production run costs, advertising, and marketing. I had no idea so much went into launching a clothing line. I’m creative but not so much into finance. It’s overwhelming but exciting, too. I won’t lie. I’m getting a crash course in business, and I’m hoping I’ll be graded on a heavy curve.

I check over the list Gideon’s given me. In the next several weeks, I’m to create the following:

1. Computerized and technical sketches that the apparel manufacturers require for accuracy, and to use for catalogs, investors, and buyers.

2. Spec Sheets

3. Line Sheets for clothing retailers

4. Garment quality checklist

Everything has to be ready before the debut showing of my work in Paris this spring. I repeat that sentence three or four times over in my head just to feel the rush of adrenaline it brings. My clothes and Paris in the same breath. Maybe I can get Dane and Maggie a pass.

All that in addition to my regular schoolwork. I’m in over my head, and truthfully, I am pretty much waiting for my brain to explode. I need help, but I’ve been avoiding Gideon since New York. Thankfully, he’s been distracted. We haven’t talked much other than necessary conversations for business. He’s not busy enough to leave town, though. I’m jonesing for that because I still want to sneak my friends in and go ghost hunting. Plagued with too many tasks and interruptions, I haven’t been to the attic either, but I’m going and soon. For today, the poltergeist quandary remains last on the list.

The Fallout dance is two days away. After the ‘episode,’ as Mags terms it, in the hotel hallway between Gideon and his sexy model gal-pal, I no longer want to go with him. Not that I ever did. Hoping Gideon had forgotten all about the stupid dance, I gave the clothes I’d made for Dane and Maggie to them yesterday when they dropped off my schoolwork. Told them to go without me and have fun. I had to bite my tongue, literally, not to warn Maggie of Dane’s feelings. I don’t want to see him hurt, but I can’t protect him either.

Another glance at the clock shows 4
PM
. Time to phone Ben. I head for the kitchen to make my call. Rehab gave the go ahead allowing us to talk briefly twice a week. I’m hoping the conversations will encourage us both.

“Rae?”

“Hey, Ben, it’s great to hear your voice.”

“Yours too, honey.”

“Any more dreams?”

“No. But it’s funny. I can feel her, Rae. Your mama’s spirit calls to mine. I think … I think she’s proud of me … since I came here.”

I don’t tell him he’s crazy. If it comforts him to think of my mother like this, I won’t take it from him. “I know she’s proud, Ben. So am I.” I pause. “How are you doing? How’s the recovery going?” I’m not sure I want to hear what’s coming, but Ben needs my support.

He lets out a deep breath. “It’s hard. Maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The doctor says my body doesn’t need the booze anymore, but my head still wants it.”

“Every day?”

“Every minute.”

Oh. My heart sinks.

“I don’t know which voice is louder your mother’s or the Scotch.”

All the cliché answers I might give at this moment fight for top billing and in the end, I say, “I can’t imagine. I’m sorry this is so hard on you.”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize to me, honey. Listen can you come visit me next weekend? The doctors have given us permission.”

My pulse kicks up. “Why? What’s wrong? Should I come this weekend instead?”

“No need to get riled. I have some doctor’s appointments this week. These people stick me like a pincushion. No, next week is better. I just want to talk, face-to-face.”

I shift my feet.

“See, in our daily meetings here, we talk about something called amends. There are some things need sayin’ and it’s past time to say ’em.”

I feel the tension leave my neck and shoulders. This has to do with his therapy. Good. “I’d like that.”

“Since I’m working on my honesty, there’s something else you ought to know.”

I swallow, uncomfortable with the hesitant tone of his voice. “Okay …”

“The sober thing happens in stages, they say. When the fog of drunkenness first lifted, I started thinking with a clear head. I was so full of rage, I wanted to hate God for taking your mother, hate you for sending me here, and hate that Maddox fella for stealing you away from me. I thought of ways to break out of here, buy a gun, and blow that boy’s head clean off.”

“Er, Ben, that doesn’t sound clear-headed, like, at all.”

“I know it. It’s them stages they talk about. Once I got out of the hospital, more fog went away. The doctors said I should talk to the boy, so I did. Thought you should know.” He finishes with flair, like he just won first prize in a truth-telling contest.

“You spoke with Gideon?”

“Yeah. Came down here twice to see me when I asked him.”

“Twice?” Holy crow … I’d only seen Ben once. What the hell. Anger, resentment, jealousy all mix together in my gut making a volatile cocktail.

“Point is, he ain’t what I thought. Point is, I done enough that caused you and me to be in the fix we’re in without blaming everyone else. A lot of what’s happened is my doing, Rae, and I’m sorry.”

I can’t answer. Ben is apologizing because it’s good and right for him to do so, but I feel cut out of all that’s going on. Like my puppet master has more to do with Ben than I do. Fury builds a fire in my veins. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to remain calm. “Why did you need to talk to Gideon twice?”

“The first or second time?”

“Both. Stop stalling. Why are you talking to him, Ben? What’s going on?” I hear a muffled voice in the background. “Ben?”

“Sorry. The nurse is here. I have to go, Rae. We’ll talk more when you come. I love you, gal. Everything’s going to be all right, hear?”

He repeats the words I’ve said to him back to me, and I put my frustration in neutral. “I know. I can’t wait to see you. Good night, Ben.”

Jenny rushes into the kitchen as I hang up. I wonder if she’s been eavesdropping but doubt that’s her style. “Master Maddox is dinning in his office this evening. He’s neck deep in paperwork. I imagine it has everything to do with your joint venture.” She frowns, moving a large stainless bowl to the sink. “I wish he’d tell me these things sooner, I’ve set the table for naught.”

I run my hand over the back of a chair, my mind still on Ben. “I’m sorry, Jenny. Can I help?”

“No, thank you, miss. What a suggestion. Mr. Maddox would toss me out on my ear, and rightly so.” She stops fussing and wipes her hands on a dishtowel. “Is everything all right?”

“What? Yeah, he’s fine. I mean I’m fine.” Edgar trots into the kitchen, yowling for his dinner.

Her head tilts and eyes narrow. “Hmm. Well, anyway, I’m to tell you Mr. Maddox will collect you at seven o’clock for your outing tomorrow.”

“What outing?” A shiver snakes it way under my skin.

“Such a tease. Why the dance, of course. He seems quite excited, had me press his clothes and Jamis has washed the car. Will he drive your friends, too, or do they have their own transportation?”

I shut my open mouth. Gideon hadn’t said a single word about the dance. I assumed he forgot, or decided against going. “Jenny …” What can I say? She worships her boss. How do I explain to her, or Gideon, or anyone else how a week ago the thought of dancing close to my jailor had an almost irresistible pull? The visual reminder of his man-whore status in the hotel hallway had worked better than a hose on my raging hormones. “Are you sure?” I pause as her brow bunches. “I was under the impression Mr. Maddox is too busy. I mean I think he, we, changed our minds.”

“About what?” Gideon strolls into the kitchen, cane in hand, and heads for the fridge.

Crap. I can’t tell him what a horn dog I think he is in front of Jenny. I won’t hurt her that way. “Uh, well. I was explaining to Jenny we are too snowed under with work to make the dance tomorrow. It’s not important considering all we have to do. I’m not a big dance girl anyway.” Lie. “And I’m sure you have way more important things to do than attend a cheesy high school dance.” As in, paw your sexy, model hook-up. Truth.

Gideon takes a water bottle from the refrigerator door, twists the cap off, and turns it up. Dark jeans hang on his narrow hips beneath a tight, navy T-shirt. I watch, trying not to salivate as his golden throat bobs with each swallow. How can anyone doing something so pedestrian look so enticing? I need that hose again.

When he lowers his head, our eyes meet. “Nonsense. This is your senior year, Raven. Events like this are important. I don’t want you missing out on anything because you work for me.” His words come out polite and purposeful. They are for Jenny’s sake, I realize. Gideon’s gaze, however, is all about me. He scrutinizes my face, as though I’m a Sudoku he wants to solve.

Fine. I’ll play. “You’re right, I guess. But there’s absolutely no reason for you to waste your time with something so mundane. You’re an important, busy guy. Places to go, people to see.” And do. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll just go with Dane and Maggie like we originally planned. No big deal. You can even set my curfew and Jamis can drive.”

There. Deal with it.

His lips crook in that dangerous smile he loves to unsettle me with. “Raven, I’m nineteen not twenty-seven. A high school dance is not beyond the pale for me to attend. Besides, I’m not the sort of guy to go back on my word once I’ve offered to escort a beautiful woman somewhere.” He takes a step nearer. “Nor am I used to that word being contradicted.”

I peek at Jenny who watches us with a bewildered expression. When I glance back, Gideon is a foot in front of me.