The Second Man (6 page)

“Great. Seafood? Is that what you like most?”

“I do like seafood, but my favorite is Italian.” The best for that was a place called Geno’s. She and Max went there many times, but Jill wasn’t ready to take on those memories, as it was the place they ate the night they became lovers. “But Shacks on the Beach in Santa Barbara is great on a night like this. Great view of the ocean. I made a reservation for nine.”

“I love the beaches along the Pacific. Nowhere is more beautiful.”

“And all the girls in bikinis don’t hurt the view, right?”

He chuckled. “Is that what I did when I was here before? Ogle girls at the beach?”

“No. You were very gallant.”
You only ogled me
, she thought, remembering the admiration in his eyes. “Turn at that first street. My folks place is a few minutes up in the hills.”

Max asked many questions about her family. How long they had lived in the area, and what her parents had done professionally. She kept her answers light and informative, watching his face, listening to his inflection to see if he seemed to find anything she said familiar, but he was reacting as someone you sat next to on an airplane would. He nodded, politely, interested.

But that was all.

They pulled up in front of the house and Max put the car in neutral.

She had sold the rambling ranch, her childhood home, early last year when her mother moved in with her, and it seemed already a foreign place. The new owners had painted the stucco a darker tan, and changed the weathered rust-colored trim to a bright blue. They had also cut down all the bougainvillea that covered the front wall of the house, Jill noted, missing that soft, beautiful red flowering vine she had sat under many a summer day.

Max stared at the house. He wore sunglasses so she could not see his eyes, but the intensity of how he set his jaw showed he did not remember being here.

“It’s a nice place,” he said.

“It is. You want to get out and walk around? I know the neighbors, so we could stroll up the driveway and look into the backyard. You ate a lot of hamburgers out on the patio back there.”

“Sure.”

Her parents’ old neighbors, the Holmes, were not home so they had enough time to leisurely look around at the back yard of Jill’s family home. The trees and patio were the same as they had been, but the yard was dug up and a huge pit bull barked his dissatisfaction at seeing them.

Jill pointed over the cement and brick wall, telling him where the BBQ had been, and how they sat under the orange trees, but not in the summer or spring because of the bees. Max smiled and nodded, remembering none of it.

“Is this hard for you? To be here with so many memories?” His voice was rough with emotion.

“Not so much. Not now. I’m kind of numb to it. It seems like someone else lived here, it’s so different.”

“I felt like that when I closed my parents’ house. It was exactly the same as when I grew up, but I felt like I was dream- walking through it. Because I was such a different person.”

Jill nodded. It’s the world, and all the people in it, that’s changed. Though right now she did not feel different. She felt like the same thirteen-year-old girl she had once been, standing at the fence, looking into the back yard, ready to ambush her friends with a water balloon.

“Shall we head out? There’s going to be a lot of our famous traffic heading down to Santa Barbara this time of night,” Jill said.

“Sure. Thanks for bringing me here.” Max guided her by the elbow back out to the street.

They drove down the freeway to Santa Barbara, having accomplished none of the memory jarring Max had hoped for. But they continued to chat, and as the miles flew by Jill felt her last remnants of anger melt away, along with much of the tension.

It was not like being with the old Max, but it was lovely getting to know the interesting stranger beside her, as the wind blew her hair and the sun shined down. He was charming and attentive, although his responses seemed more careful than she remembered from the spontaneous younger Max.

At the restaurant, the hostess led them to a table by the windows, which were opened to the night breeze. It was April but felt like summer.

“This is perfect. What a view.” Max held the chair for her.

“Like you said, you can’t beat the Pacific Ocean for ambiance.”

“Ambiance. I like that word. You Americans stole it from the French.”

She smiled as Max settled in across from her. They ordered drinks and stared out at the pink and orange horizon, both quiet in the contemplation of the majestic sunset.

“Did we come here together? Before?” Max asked softly.

“Once with my parents, I think. It was pretty expensive for college kids.” She folded her hands together on the table. “Is the view familiar?”

He shaded his eyes and stared at the shoreline. “It feels as if I remember sitting here, in this exact spot.” He shook his head, “But I don’t. I’m sure that sounds confusing. But I’m having that sensation I often had as a child, when I’d heard some family anecdote described so often by others that I felt as if I’d lived through it, even though I wasn’t even born yet when it occurred.”

“I know you were an only child, like me, but didn’t you have lots of older relatives?”

“Yes. On my mother’s side only. Five aunts, all with many children.” He tented his hands together. “I didn’t see them much, but when I did, I always felt an outsider. They were older than I was, and always talking about things as if I did remember. That’s how I feel now. Because I’ve heard how beautiful the beaches of California are so often, in movies, books, and from others, that I feel like I’m remembering visiting this place before, but I’m not.”

“And that’s not a good enough feeling, right?”

“Good enough?”

“To feel like you remember isn’t the same as authentically recalling something. The real memories are what you want. You want those so you can re-live the event?”

“Yes, that’s what I want.” He leaned toward her. “Is that what you’re doing now? Are you re-living what you felt for me, all those years ago?”

Her breath caught. “Well, no. Yes. I mean. A little.” She laughed. “I’m feeling grateful that I spent time here with a boy a long time ago. Those were fun and romantic times. Young love is sort of a bonfire of emotions, isn’t it? But it was a long time ago.”

“It was. And it was unfair of me to put you on the spot.” He grinned. “I did it because I’m a bit jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of your remembering. You look like you’re happily visiting a place I can’t get to. Although thanks to tonight I’m making new memories, and maybe the new ones are good enough.”

“Good enough for what? For you to let go of your search for the past?”

“No one lets go of the past willingly. Let’s just say, however, that the present is much more interesting to me than it has been for a long time.” Max’s eyes drifted down her neck and back to her face. “You look lovely tonight, by the way.”

A frisson of heat crept up the center of her, and Jill recognized the look she saw in his eyes. When Max was mulling how to shape a request, a plea for something he craved, his eyes sparkled with intensity, as if was marshalling the forces of the world to get his way.

And at this moment, Max wanted something from her. His gaze held hers, as if he was measuring how much he could ask for, how much she would agree to.

Her remembered passion for him rolled through her veins like warm brandy, dragging her back fifteen years. She stared deeper into his eyes, searching for her long lost lover, and saw that he recognized the escalating tension inside of her. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He bit his bottom lip. “I have to tell you, sitting here with you, that I feel something I can’t explain. Seeing you has filled me with restlessness. An urge to do something more than what I’m doing. It’s like having an itch, but not knowing where to scratch.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Last night, in bed at my hotel, I couldn’t fall to sleep. All I could think of was you. I’d matched a face to the words you’d written, but I still didn’t know you at all. All I could think of was spending more time with you. Because I want to . . .”

“Here are your drinks!” The waiter’s voice, twice as loud as Max’s, cut him off. The young man halted beside their table, noisily delivering napkins, drinks, and a basket of bread and butter.

“Vodka tonic with a twist for the gentleman. A Kir Royale for the beautiful lady.” He beamed at Jill, oblivious to the force field he had stepped into. “Have you decided on appetizers? I can highly recommend the crab dip and the seafood chowder.”

Max’s glance ran over the waiter’s nametag. “I think we’re good with the drinks for now, Jamison. Give us a few minutes, okay?”

“Of course. Of course. But why don’t I tell you about the specials first?”

“Why don’t you leave us alone for a few minutes,” Max said. “We need some time.”

“Certainly sir. Of course.” The waiter backed away.

Jill stared out at the ocean. She picked up her Kir and pretty much chugged it. Cold white wine. Crème de cassis. Gulping like a novice, she felt a sudden thirst that she doubted one drink would quench. Everything about her body felt swollen. She was like a kid, all hormones and want, mentally and emotionally out of whack due to her body’s attraction to Max.

Jill crossed her legs and took a deep breath. She hated not being in control. Things needed to slow down. Especially these feelings about Max, which despite her caution to herself, seemed to be coming back with a vengeance.

She needed to remember that she was a stranger to him. He was not feeling what she was. She had to be careful.

“Now, where were we before Jamison hijacked our conversation?” Max asked.

Jill downed the last drops of her Kir. “I don’t remember. Why don’t we discuss some of the people you’re going to meet at the reunion? But first could you order me another one of these.” She held up her glass.

“I will, but are you feeling okay?” His eyes were still full of heat. “Your face is very flushed.”

“I’m a bit hot.” Jill set the empty glass down and picked up her water. “But I’m fine. It’s been a long and tiring day.”

“Yes, of course, I’m sure it has. We should have had an earlier dinner. How did it go with your mother this morning?” Max was still watching her, but the energy that flowed between them moments before dissipated into the ocean breeze like smoke.

“It was okay. Mom was fine when I left.”

“This must be difficult for you.”

“Yes. But what hurts most is that I imagine how much more difficult it is for my mother.” Jill picked up the menu. “Why don’t we order, and then I’ll start a run-down on some of your relationships with people you knew in college. It’ll give you a head start when you meet them.”

“That would be great.” Max motioned for the waiter.

Jill sensed he was troubled. She remembered he did not like to avoid talking about things that were on his mind.

But he was sensitive enough now to understand she was pulling back from the flirtation they had shared, and gentleman enough not to press her.

Thank god.

Because she did not feel like she could handle anything more emotional than chitchat. Certainly not a sentence that started with him lying in a hotel bed last night, thinking about her.

Chapter 6

Dinner was a pleasant blur. Jill told Max about Carly and Hamilton, who Max had never actually met, as Hamilton left for Oxford before Max had arrived from Sweden.

She followed with thumbnail descriptions of a dozen more people they had hung out with during the college year they shared. In the car heading back to her place, Max expressed concern at the number of names she had mentioned.

“It’s a long list,” Max said, turning into Jill’s townhouse development. “I’m not terrible with names, but hopefully everyone will have badges so I can have a chance at keeping them straight.”

“I’m sure they will. And it will be interesting to see if any of them seem familiar.”

“I have expectations, but not much hope.”

“Why’s that?”

“Talking to you hasn’t led to a breakthrough with my recall, and I imagine I was closer to you than to anyone else.” Max pulled into her driveway and put the car in park, but did not shut off the ignition.

During the fifteen-minute drive home, Jill felt Max retreating emotionally. While she had been attacked by a second wave of what honestly could be described as lust when he had taken her arm to help her into the car, he had shown no sign of feeling the same.

Now, sitting inches from her, he was even less engaged. “We’re here. I bet you’re ready for bed.”

Jill stretched her neck to the left and breathed deep, clutching her hands together. “Yes, I am tired. But I had a great time tonight. Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “I’m sorry we never got to discuss much of your past. All you did was fill me in on mine.”

“Which part of my past are we talking about?”

“I’d like to hear about what happened with your ex-husband, if it’s something you want to share.”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t like to talk about Andrew Denton, if you want to know the truth. I made a huge mistake marrying him, and he and I didn’t part on good terms.”

“No?” This one word was filled with curiosity. “Sounds like a story.”

Might as well get it out in the open
, Jill thought. “It was. Andrew and I were casual friends when we were in college, but we got together a couple of years after we graduated. He was very persuasive, said he’d carried a torch for years, which was flattering.”

“He fell in love with you in college, when you were with me?”

“I guess, but I never saw any sign of it during college. Anyway, after dating him for a few months, we got married. Pretty quickly after that, I found out he had a very significant drug problem. He lost his job, and ran wildly through what money we had, and I realized I’d made a huge mistake. The night I told him I wanted a divorce, he pulled out a gun.”

“What?” Max moved closer, everything about his demeanor surprisingly protective. “He threatened you?”

“No. He wasn’t threatening me. He said he was going to shoot himself if I left him. He was not rational, but I didn’t think he was serious. Stupidly I grabbed for the gun, and we wrestled for it before it went off.”

Max’s face hardened. “Were you hurt?”

“No.” She took a breath. “Actually, I shot him.”

“You shot your ex-husband?”

“Well, I winged him.” Jill touched the side of her forehead. “The bullet glanced off his skull about here. I don’t think he even had to get stitches.”

“Holy Mother.”

“I know, right? Aren’t you glad you asked? I bet you are asking yourself about your choice in women back then.”

Max shook his head. “No, I’m not doing that. But I’m glad to be warned you’re not a girl to mess around with.”

Something about the way Max said ‘mess around with’ in his soft Swedish accent struck her as hilarious.

Jill put her hand over her mouth but could not stifle her laughter, which rumbled out of her for several seconds. “Oh my god, Max, now you’re going to think I’m a nut case, laughing over shooting someone. It’s not funny, I know. It wasn’t funny at all at the time. It feels unreal telling you about it.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy at all. I’m sorry I brought up something so painful. I seem to excel at that.”

She squeezed his hand. “It’s good you did. Imagine if someone else at the reunion mentioned that sordid tale. You’d think I was a psycho.” She shook her head and the three Kirs she had at dinner sloshed around in her stomach. “I don’t feel very well. I think I’m drunk.”

“Poor girl.” He patted her knee. “Come on, we’ll get you inside.”

She held up her hand. “Give me a minute, okay?”

“Sure.” He sat back. “Did you say your ex-husband, this Andrew, went to jail?”

“Yes. That night he was charged with a couple of felonies, but his family had money for a big-time lawyer, and I think after a short time in prison he got sent to rehab. I divorced him, and that was that.”

“And you never married again?”

“No.” She blinked, uncomfortable that she felt she had to make it clear she wasn’t a desperate spinster, or something. “I don’t talk much about this, but I’m glad you heard it from me. I’m sure you’ll probably hear other references to it at the parties.”

“Why would anyone bring that up?”

“Because Andrew is going to be there.”

“You ex-husband is coming to the reunion?”

Jill pictured him standing on her front porch two days ago. “That’s what I hear.”

Max sat mulling this information in the darkness. A car drove slowly down the street and circled, the headlights illuminating him in profile. “You mentioned I never met Hamilton. But did I know Andrew? Were he and I friends?”

“Yes, you knew him. No, you weren’t friends.”

“Why?”

“You thought he was a
skit huvud
, which you told me means asshole, if I remember correctly. That’s a direct quote.”

“It appears I was a good judge of character.”

They shared a chuckle. Several moments passed. “Are you feeling well enough to go inside now?” he asked.

“Yes.” She wanted suddenly to tell him about Andrew’s warning about the reunion, but bit her tongue. She was a mess of opposing impulses, she thought, and it would be best if she called it a night.

“When would you like to get together again, Max? I’m going to be busy Tuesday, taking my mom to the doctor, and Carly and Ham are coming in Thursday.”

“Can I take you to lunch tomorrow?” Max asked. “I thought maybe we could drive over to St. John’s and see Dr. Millard.”

“Sure. Going to the college is a great idea. What time?”

“Let’s shoot for noon.” He grinned. “No pun intended.”

She smacked his arm. “That was a cheap shot. But okay, I’ll see you then.” She stepped out of this car unsteadily.

Max came around the side of the car and shut the door.

She put her hand on his arm. “You don’t have to walk me to the front door.” She pointed to the entry, twenty feet away. “I left a light on. Always leave the porch and the foyer lights on. My dad was a cop, and he reminded us of that every single time we went out. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will.” Max wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “But I’m walking you to the door. I know how to behave on a first date if I want a second one.”

“Ahhh, smooth operator.”

He threw his head back and laughed, the sexiest sound she had ever heard.

“You don’t think you’re smooth?”

“No,” Max said. “I’m about as far from that as a man can be. But thank you for the compliment.”

They stopped at the front porch. “What happened to your dad? His name was Patrick, right? You said he died several years ago,
ja?
Very young, too.”

“Yes, he was. Only sixty-four. He’d never been sick a day in his life, but seven years ago, on Holy Wednesday, he got up at his usual 5:30 and said to my mother, “Did I pay the paper?” and then he fell dead of a heart attack.”

“I’m so sorry. But what is Holy Wednesday?”

“The Wednesday before Easter.”

“Why is it holy?”

“To commemorate the day Judas was paid thirty pieces of silver to betray Jesus.”

“I don’t see why that would make it a holy day,” Max said.

She opened her purse and began pawing through it. “Me either. We Catholics aren’t known for logic. It’s more about magic and faith.”

“What did your dad mean, do you think?”

“No idea. Although I’ve wondered if he didn’t actually ask, ‘Did I pay the piper?’ He was an ironic kind of guy.”

Max shook his head. “But your mother was sure he said paper.”

“I never asked her.”

“Ask her now.”

“It’s too late for that, I’m afraid.” Jill grabbed her house keys, her eyes hot with sudden tears.

Max took the key ring from her and opened the front door. He made no move to follow her inside. “I’m so sorry to hear this about your parents, Jill. I know how it feels to be . . .”

“Alone?” she said.

“You get some rest, okay?” Before she could move away, Max put his hand on her chin and kissed her on the lips. It was gentle, but nearly melted her earrings.

She drew away and saw that look again in his eyes, that look she had not seen for fifteen years, until tonight at the restaurant.

Max wanted to come in the house. He wanted her. The new her he had just met.

But nowhere nearly as bad as she wanted him. The old him. The new him. All of him.

Good god.

Jill froze. If she kissed him again, if she pressed her mouth on any part of his face, or felt his chest or thigh against hers, or his strong arms around her, she would be lost.

“Good night.” Her voice was cool.

Max gave her an intense look when she stuck out her hand, but he took her hand in both of his and squeezed it gently. “Good night, old friend. See you tomorrow.”

Without a backward glance, he walked to his car.

She stepped inside and closed the door. It took her a full minute to get control of her breathing.

These feelings can’t be trusted. I don’t even know him. Not this him. And he doesn’t know anything about me, this me, or any me I ever was.

Jill locked the front door, dropped her purse on the kitchen counter, flipped off the entry light, and walked down the shadowy hallway to her bedroom.

She undressed in the moonlight, feeling as if she was sleepwalking. She pulled her underwear off and dropped it in a heap and kicked off her sandals. Leaning down, she turned on the lamp on her dressing table and frowned.

Where is my jewelry box?

She grabbed her robe out of the closet and for the first time noticed the room around her.

Jill gasped, blinking several times as her heartbeat increased. The contents of her chest of drawers on the wall opposite were dumped onto her bed. Her closet was open, and boxes and shoes and clothes lay in heaps outside of it.

“What is going on?” The realization that someone had broken in to her home filled her with panic. She held her breath, listening.

Is whoever did this still here?

Goosebumps rose on her naked skin and she soundlessly reached slipped on her robe.

Where’s my phone?
She looked around wildly, remembering she had laid her purse on the counter in the kitchen. She took a step and the doorbell rang.

Without another thought, she ran for the front door.

Max. He must have decided to come back.

Her heart pounded so hard that she could not hear herself think. She grabbed the doorknob, threw the lock, and pulled it open.

“Max! Thank god.” Jill stopped, clamping her teeth together abruptly.

Andrew Denton stood in her doorway, a quizzical look on his face.

Jill sucked in her breath. Frantically, she looked past him, but the driveway was empty. Max was long gone. “What are you doing here?” she said.

“I sent a note saying I needed to talk to you. I know it’s Easter Sunday, but I thought this might be the best time to catch you, so I risked coming by. I left you a phone message, too, about an hour ago. Didn’t you get it?”

“No.”
Not that it would have mattered,
Jill thought. “Look, I don’t have time right now. I need to call 911.”

“Why? What’s happened? Are you all right?”

Jill pulled the belt on her robe tight. “I got home ten minutes ago and discovered the house has been broken into, so I need to call the police.”

Andrew whipped out his phone. “Sit down on that bench. You look like you might faint. Do you know if whoever broke in is gone?”

Jill stared at her house. “I didn’t see or hear anyone, but I haven’t searched the place.” She turned. “Wait, no, don’t call the police from your cell, I’ll do it from inside.”

Too late.

Andrew held up a finger to silence her. “Yes, Operator. My name is Andrew Denton. I need officers at the scene of a residential break-in at . . .”

Jill listened numbly as Andrew gave the police the address, her name, and described her as uninjured. Her arms and legs began to shake and she sat down on the stone bench beside her front entry. Surreal was the only word that came to mind to describe her life at that moment.

She stared at the car at the curb.

“What rooms did you go into when you got home?” he asked.

“I stopped first in the kitchen, and then went to my bedroom. It’s been ransacked.”

“But you got undressed?”

“I got undressed in the dark. I didn’t notice the mess until I turned on the light.”

“It must have been a fun night out.”

“It was,” she said, not liking the tone in his voice.