Beyond the Quiet: Romantic Thriller (16 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Sometime later, the wine bottle half-empty, I studied Mac’s sofa, thinking of all the times I’d longed so desperately for him that I’d take my coffee or tea and almost try to meld into the fabric, hoping to feel close to him just one more time. Surely s
omething of him still lingered in the one place on which he’d slept and lived the last few weeks of his life. It had been sacred to me, a shrine.

I jumped up, slipped on my shoes, and opened the door. Tugging, scooting, and pushing, I maneuvered that sofa out the door. Sweating, I pulled it down the sidewalk, the legs screeching on the cement, but I didn’t stop. I pulled and pushed until I got it to the curb. Then, back inside, I got a black marker and searched for some paper that would stand upright on the sofa. Not finding any, I grabbed a brown grocery bag and printed ‘Free’, and found a safety pin and pinned the bag to the sofa. Several cars passed while I was there, all slowing to look. It wouldn’t take long to get rid of it.

I hadn’t even made it back inside when a young woman stopped, got out, and circled the sofa. She looked to be in her early twenties and had a baby in another one of those strappy things like Shanna wore to carry Kyle on her chest. While she was looking at the sofa, another car slowed. The woman sat on the sofa, clearly staking her claim, and flipped open a phone. Within twenty minutes, two Hispanic men pulled up in a pickup truck, loaded the sofa, and left.

Good. Maybe they can get some use out of it. I thought about hauling the wing chair out there as well, but decided I wanted something to sit on until I replaced the furniture. Replace the furniture? Hell, I was going to replace the house. I’d move into an apartment that had no memories for me, nothing to remind me of an entire life that I’d lost. I’d pay Stan and Maggie what I owed an
d never have to see them again.

I’d start all over with a new life and make my own memories.

***

Someone inside my head was pounding on my brain. I opened an eye and discovered I was lying across my bed, my silk blouse twisted under me, shoes still on my feet. From the front door, the pounding continued, echoing in my temples. Now the doorbell rang and rang, accompanied by the persistent pounding.

Needing the bathroom, I slid off the bed. My mouth tasted foul. The endless pounding continued. Soon after, the noise moved to my sliding doors in back and I heard Maggie’s voice.

“Lisa, let me in. Lisa!”

My cell phone rang. I ignored it all and entered the bathroom. A few moments later, I rinsed with mouthwash and made my way to the sliding door. I slid it open and made sure the screen was locked.

Funny what you notice when your world has crumbled. Maggie looked terrible. Her eyes were red and puffy and the tiny lines on her face stood out as if she’d aged twenty years since yesterday. Strange, though. Here was a woman I’d loved and she was obviously in pain, but I felt curiously detached, as if I were observing a painting in a museum.

“Thank God,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Strange how the crying pro
cess worked. The tears formed in her eyes, then ran down in one stream. You’d think they’d plop over and make hundreds of little paths, but no, they seemed to pool in one place and spill over, each drop following the one before until they made one long stream.

“...and we were so worried,” she was saying. “I have to
talk to you, Lisa, and explain—”

“I don’t know you,” I interrupted her, my voice expressionless. It was amazing how calm I felt. Or perhaps
it was the Sangria. “You’re like a stranger to me, maybe even worse because I trusted you. Do you know how long it took me to trust someone?”

“Lisa, don’t—”

“I’m going to sell this place and pay you back all the money I owe. Then, I don’t want to see you or hear from you, or your husband, ever again.”

“Please, Lisa, I love—”

“You don’t understand. You no longer exist for me.”

Maggie stared at me, her eyes stricken.

“I want you to leave,” I told her. “If you don’t, I’ll call the police.” I shut and locked the door, pulled the drapes, and, tugging
off my blouse and trousers, plodded back to bed.

***

Birds chirping outside my window woke me. Damn birds. I didn’t know why I’d always loved their early morning singing. If I had a rock I’d throw it right through the window at them.

Rolling over, I tried to shut out the dawn and go back to sleep, but as soon as I closed my eyes I saw my husband’s
wedding
photo with that woman. For the next hour I tried to shut out that picture and get back to sleep, but I couldn’t erase that picture and the smug look on Jenna’s face. Finally I kicked off the covers and decided I might as well go to the office.

The hot, steaming shower eased the pounding in my neck and shoulders, and the hot coffee perked me right up. By the time I unlocked my car, I felt almost human.

In the office, I kept to myself, going over new listings. Nina and Ed tried to talk to me, but I had nothing to say. I glanced up at one time and saw Nina give Ed a look; when she saw me looking at her, she flushed and became absorbed in paperwork.

My phone rang. I ignored it. It kept ringing and I kept ignoring it. “Just give it to Ed,” I said to Nina.

A little later, I was trying to close my briefcase. For some reason the lock wouldn’t click shut. I tried and tried, my impatience growing with each try. I broke a nail.

“Damn thing!”

“What’s wrong?” Ed asked.

“This...
thing
won’t close,” I said between gritted teeth.

“Here, let me help you.” He rose.

“I’ll get it!” I turned the briefcase over several times, trying from different angles to get the damned thing to lock. It still wouldn’t shut and I just knew if I picked it up, it would fall open and all my papers would spill out.

After trying a couple more times, I lugged it under my arm, grabbed my handbag and raced out the door.

Just as I hit the pavement, my heel turned and I went down, scraping my knee, and my handbag flew out of my arms. My briefcase hit the ground and burst open, and all my papers spilled out, scattering on the ground like huge white ashes.

“Damn, damn, damn!” My knee stung like hell and bled through the pant material. I pushed myself up and started picking up the scattered papers and couldn’t believe how much I hated that briefcase. I kicked it and kicked it again, would have kicked the damn thing into the street if Ed hadn’t grabbed me. He pulled me to him. I tried to push away, but he firmly held me. I caught a glimpse of Nina gathering my
papers and I burst into tears.

“Let’s go inside and take a look at your knee.” Gently Ed guided me up the steps, then to a chair in the office. Dropping to his knees in front of me, he pushed up my pan
t leg to expose my bloody knee.

“Ouch, that must sting.”

“Here, I’ll get some bandages.” Nina said, dropping everything onto her desk. “Don’t worry,” she told me, her voice kind. “I know it hurts, but I think it looks worse than it is.”

I wept all over again, and this time, the sobs came so hard that I had to catch my breath.

Ed kept an arm around me and Nina pulled up a chair to stay close. “There, there,” they kept saying in that age-old comforting tone. “It’ll be okay.”

When I wound down, my eyes were so swollen I could barely see. My head felt stuffed and I was exhausted. And ashamed.

“I’m sorry I was so shitty,” I told them both. “Thanks for putting up with me, and thank you for helping.”

“We’re your friends,” Ed said, and I could have kissed him. “We all have bad days, and we know you must be going through a lot.”

“Care to talk about it?” Nina asked.

“I can’t,” I told her, “but I’ll need a few days off to get myself together.”

Driving home, the rage had dissipated, but I couldn’t wait to crawl into my bed. I felt so exhausted I almost pulled to the side of the road to sleep, but I wanted the comfort of my own bed.

Sometime later the doorbell woke me again. The house was dark, the nightstand clock glowed an amber 10
:00pm. I rolled over and willed whoever was at the door, probably Maggie, or even Stan, to go away.

The doorbell rang again. Je-sus Christ. Pulling on my robe, I made my way to the living room and flung open the door.

“I told you—” I began, then saw it was Terry.

“I know it’s late,” he said, “but I had to see you, Lisa. I can’t take this any longer.”

Standing at the door, I realized how glad I was to see someone who loved me, someone who seemed to need me as much I needed him. Suddenly I had to hold him, needed to feel his arms around me, and that need was so great that I felt consumed with it. I unlocked the screen, grabbed his shirt and pulled him in. I didn’t even give him a chance to speak before I plastered myself against him and kissed him.

Terry slid his arms around me and pulled me tighter, enclosing me in a warm, safe cocoon. He smelled faintly of soap and hair tonic, and when he kissed me again, I tasted brandy. I licked his lips. He captured my lips with his, gently sucking on my bottom lip, then probing my mouth with his tongue. If I had been capable of thinking logically, I might have considered how absurd the entire thing was, but the pleasure tingled all the way to my toes a
nd all I wanted to do was feel.

He trailed small kisses on my neck, then nibbled on my ear lobe, drawing it into his mouth, gently sucking until every nerve in my body tingled and I wanted more. He lowered the zipper on my gown and it fell in a bundle around my feet. He kissed the valley between my breasts, then unsnapped my bra and eased i
t off over my shoulders so he could run his hands over my naked breasts, stroking my nipples with his thumbs. When they stiffened into hard nubs, he lowered his head and took one nipple at a time into his warm mouth.

“Oh, God,” I groaned. I’d never known such exquisite pleasure and I arched against him. Each time his tongue touched me, shocks of pleasure flooded my body with moisture. My heart pounded; my pulse raced. I felt his erection through his slacks. Instead of freezing, I gloried in his need of me.

His breathing ragged, Terry raised his head. “Are you sure this is what you want? If it isn’t, you’d better say so right now.”

“Make love to me, Terry,” I gasped. “Make
me forget everything but you.”

He slipped his arm under my knees, easily cradling me in his arms. After I pointed the way, he carr
ied me upstairs to the bedroom.

“I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long,” he said, laying me on
the bed, his eyes devouring me.

Without thinking, I covered my breasts with my arms. While Mac had never said my small breasts were disappointing, he’d always admired the big breasts of other women, even suggestin
g once that I consider surgery.

“Honey, let me see every inch of you,” Terry said, taking my hands in his and pressing them ab
ove my head. “Let me love you.”

And with that, he began kissing me again, so softly, so leisurely, as if he delighted in each feather touch, until my body felt liquid. Pulling off my blouse, he pressed his chest against mine, and the slight tickling sensation from his soft hair rubbing against my skin added to my pleasure. His hunger for me, his gentle touch made me feel as if I were a delicacy he intended to savor. Never before had I felt so wanted, so needed, and I surrendered to
every new delicious sensation.

When he let go of my hands, I cupped the back of his neck, pressing his head against me, wanting more. And when he moved from my lips, I moaned in frustration, until he kissed his way to my nipples, erect and begging for his touc
h. He drew my left nipple into his wet mouth; pure sensation shot to my loins, and I was aware of a fierce hunger I’d never felt before.

I didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want the delicious feelings to end, and when he raised his head, I moaned, reaching for him, wanting to draw his warmth back to me.

“I love your body,” he whispered, running his hands over my shoulders and breasts as if he were a blind man, exploring something wonderful with his hands, feeling each inch of my skin through the palms of his hands. He stroked my breasts, my shoulders, even down my arms. I would never have thought that the feel of someone’s palm could be so sensuous.

“Your breasts are so beautiful,” he whispered, stroking my breasts along the outside and underneath. “Just enou
gh to hold. And your nipples...” He bent down and ran his tongue over them, instantly puckering each one. “So pink and pretty.”

For the first time, I felt proud of
my breasts.

When he drew away
from me and stood, I cried out.

“I’ll just be a moment,” he said, removing his clothes. Before I could do anything but glimpse his large, muscular form, he was back on the bed with me, covering my body w
ith his own.

Settling his weight on his elbows alongside of me, he began kissing me again, slowly bringing pure sensation alive once more. I wrapped my arms around him, strokin
g his neck and broad shoulders. An aching heat flushed my body and I strained upwards, almost panting, needing more.