Light the Hidden Things (14 page)

Someone was beside her.

Her heart lost and regained its rhythm.

She didn't look, absolutely certain the presence was as real as anything is real.

Another woman. A woman of sorrows. Yet Lila sensed more than that. There was a force the other women strained to hold at bay. The twinned energies created a conflicted aura that coiled itself around Lila.

Lila took a deep breath, formed a mental question.

Who are you?

The sorrow parted enough to let Lila understand the woman carried both hope and pain. Lila thought of those who yearn for heaven even as they flee imminent death. Part of her screamed to end this. She ignored it.

Whoever you are, I want to help. You understand I'm afraid? But I'll help if I can.

Perhaps because of that step into the unknown, Lila was suddenly hypersensitive to everything around her. The smell of the departed pickup's exhaust was muddy and thick, shouldering aside fall's clean briskness. Morning sunshine was pressure against her skin. Dandelions gleamed a yellow as precious as gold coins.

Mingled with that intensified awareness of the reality around her, Lila smelled flowers. Nothing that grew in these mountains. A sweet, almost cloying scent.
Gardenia.
It distracted her.

The other woman despaired when their link faltered. Lila felt the stranger's relief join with her own when she pulled herself away from marveling at the experience and determined to follow it to its end. The renewed contact was firm, harmonious. In a moment so thrilling Lila had no time to even think, she heard the other's emotions as if they were spoken words.

Loss. Regret.

In the next instant, ongoing sadness, yet rich with encouragement.

The world of light and dark can break us, but only if we let it. Within each of us there is that which will not break. We have the gift to create a thing that refuses any bounds. Even life. Even time. The gift is love and we can only be broken when we forget that love does not happen between two people, but is created by them. When we fail to create it, to nurture it, all our brightness is made dark. Then we are broken.

As the voice faded, so did the connection. Lila's hands rose, palms out, pleading silently for the stranger to stay, to explain.

The other voice consoled.
I must go. I will come this once. I point only a direction, not a path.

Lila heard her final question within herself as a shout.
Why me? Why now? Is this about Crow? I don't love him. He's gone and he loves no one. Are you telling me I should love Van? Who are you?

She forced her mind into the bleakest silence she'd ever known and was repelled.

A man's voice broke the moment. Lila flinched.

Van patted her shoulder, spoke. She had no idea what he said.

She remembered reading that dreams we supposed lasted all night were scientifically proven to last seconds.

But this was not a dream.

Words practically exploded out of her. "Van. I have to tell you. The strangest..."

"Just a sec. I came back to tell you Edward wants to talk a minute and then I'll get rid of him. It'll only take a second. Hold on to what you were saying."

Van patted her shoulder again, adding a confirming quick squeeze. His smile as he turned away was meant to be conspiratorial. Lila knew that. What she saw, however, was condescension and a hint of proprietary assumption. Her resentment flared. Then she remembered the sorrow of that other woman. Her contact had been a desperate warning. The stranger must have seen Lisa's life paralleling her own misfortune.

Alone. I'm alone, too. It's not the way I want to be. Not forever.

That only works for Crow. Because he's a fool.

Van was sitting in his car on the passenger's side, fiddling with the glove compartment. Edward was leaning down to talk to him. Van sent another quick smile to Lila. She smiled back.

He's smiling for me, with me. He cares.

The lost woman had someone who cared.

Why do I know that?

Why come to me? Am I the only woman looking at a lonely end to my life?

Lila told herself to stop trying to explain or understand. The point was to be thankful for the intercession and learn from it.

Edward was on his way to his Escalade. Lila hurried past, getting back to the building to start work again. From behind her Van called, "Why don't you take a break?"

That question told Lila she'd never share this last experience with Van. His world was as solid as his buildings. He'd laugh at her, tell her it proved she was working too hard.

Edward was starting his engine. She gestured that way. "I already took a break when he showed up. Then another one when Crow showed up. A third when you got here. One more break and the whole day's shot."

"Come on. You work too hard. Tell you what - for a cup of coffee I'll help you with the sanding."

"How'd you know I was sanding?"

He was in front of her then. He drew a finger across her cheekbone and held it up for inspection. "Revlon doesn't make this stuff. This is strictly Black & Decker sanding tool dust. Fine stuff, too. I'm guessing finishing work on cabinets."

She flapped at her clothes as he talked. Puffs of sawdust clouded around her.

This is surreal. That woman was part of me, making me part of her. We were together, outside any world I know. Now I'm having a perfectly every-day conversation. How can that be?

She put on a smile, a plastic normalcy. "You think you're so smart. I was working at the check-out desk, not the cabinets." She swabbed at her face with a handkerchief. "Did that get most of it?"

"Who cares? You have beautiful eyes."

"Oh, stop it. You'll have to settle for supermarket coffee. Sweet talk won't change that."

He looked disappointed. "I was hoping for a double espresso. But if I can keep looking into those eyes, I don't care if it's mud."

"Are you saying I make bad coffee?"

"I'm saying I want to spend time with you."

"Okay. But you've got to stop blowing smoke in my ear."

"Pretty ears." The departing Edward honked. Van waved. They shouted promises to get together for golf. Lila headed inside. She filled two mugs at the checkout desk. He took his and rubbed his free hand over the wood surface. "Good job. You looking for work? I can always use a good hand."

She laughed. "Look around, dude. You think I need more work?"

He took her at her word, walking around the shop, mug in hand. Cringing inwardly, she watched him. He didn't frown. That was hopeful, at least.

She was intrigued by how much his physical behavior revealed about him. Every move was judicious. He examined. Without taking his eyes from the object of his attention, he raised the mug, sipped, lowered it - all the while, the liquid was under control, never slopping, never spilling. When his eyes didn't satisfy his curiosity, he ran his fingers - sometimes his whole hand - over a surface.

She'd never thought about his hands. Now, watching the surprisingly sensitive fingers and the broad expanse of his palm and the way he caressed her workmanship stirred her. It was ridiculously inappropriate to see anything erotic in what he was doing, she told herself. The images forced their way into her consciousness.

What's happening to my mind? How can I be thinking of that now? That woman - the things I felt - how do I deal with that and a real life at the same time?

She turned away, gulped a huge swallow coffee that was far too hot. Blinking rapidly, she got back on a more rational track. When she faced Van she was still thinking about him. Without all the sweaty stuff, she told herself sternly.

The other woman said we create love. Something an oracle would say. It could mean anything Why couldn't she just speak plainly?

There was a lot about Van to like. Unlike Crow, there was no suggestion of adventures and dangers. She'd heard unpleasant stories about Van's divorce. Everyone knew the settlement had been less than generous. It was probable he'd hidden some assets. It was equally probable the departing wife had done her best to collect everything she could. Wealthy people in divorces never seemed to agree on much, but if one expected them to have something in common, greed was a pretty sure bet.

Van had certainly been considerate in her own case. His determination to make her quit her dream was irritating, but his promise of a good offer for the property was sincere; she was sure of it. So was the job offer he dangled as part of the deal. She had no doubts about that little gem of persuasion. He meant partnership. That meant marriage.

She'd never thought seriously of marrying anyone. One long-term relationship was enough to convince her she was better off single. She liked men, enjoyed their company - if they were interesting - and the one relationship had been pleasant. Even when it wasn't pleasant, the worst she could give it was boring. She supposed he'd been an adequate lover. Novels were full of detailed descriptions of people who lit up the neighborhood with flames of passion. The best she ever mustered was a puny glow. That, plus a distaste for the idea of sleeping around, hobbled temptations to experiment.

That physical department was where all her instincts told her Van was a sure thing. The man reeked of maleness. For one tingling moment she thought of those hands. It took a disturbing effort to push it aside.

Maybe that was the very thing that caused her hesitation about Van - the fear of being overwhelmed. The thought of being dominated gave her chills as fierce as any winter. Froze all other notions right out of her, in fact. She understood he had a man's need to feel in charge. That was livable. More than that was out of the question.

Being alone forever was no prize, though..

"...we can create a thing that refuses all bounds..." the woman said.

Creating love can only mean we have to be open to other lives. And that means that if we're closed to those lives, our own never fills.

Crow's so closed it terrifies him if he thinks someone else might open up.

Van completed his circuit of the store back where he started, right in front of her. He took her hand in his and said, "You know I'm the heavy in this drama, don't you?"

She had trouble getting her thoughts back into the real world.

"...all our brightness is made dark..."

"Stop that." She'd spoken aloud. Her face was burning when she looked up at Van.

He blinked under a heavy frown. "What'd you say?"

Lila stuttered, finally forced out words. "I was just saying you're blaming yourself for something that's not even there. We're not having a drama."

"Sure we are." His hearty humor lacked real enthusiasm and he watched her closely. "The saga of Bake's place. All-star cast. Everybody wants to see the little lady beat the system. Except for that rat, the developer."

"Nobody sees you that way. Nobody sees me that way, either."

"Yes they do." He squeezed her hand. "Especially Richards and everybody's friend, Martha Short."

"Oh, stop it. You know them as well as I do. They're not like that."

"They see you as part of their little village back in the day. I'm this heartless engine of change. They think I want to turn Lupine into Seattle."

"Seattle in this valley? It'd stack higher than the moon."

He laughed, then, "Seriously, those two lead any argument about improving this place - them and that screwball perennial mayor candidate. Then there's Odegaard. He keeps the rinky-dink craftsy crowd ready to fight anything. They'd all like to go back to 1950." He cut the air with his hand. "If things don't change, time tears them apart."

That's not what the woman said.

"...refuses any bounds. Even life."

Van was still talking. "...you're part of change. Renewing a dead store, lumber and nails, is change."

"It's been here since I can remember." She pulled her hand out of his grip.

He said, "When you came back it was a heap. Don't get me wrong; I think them backing you up is great. But isn't it a bit hypocritical to accuse me of trying to 'change everything,' when you're doing the same thing?"

She blazed at him, angry now, and eager for him to know it. "Don't call them hypocrites. They're not and I'm not. And I'm going to finish it. Tell your banker buddy."

"I didn't mean... Look, we only have these arguments because I don't want to see you get hurt. You know Edward can't talk to me about your business, but I'm not blind. He doesn't have to tell me he's worried about you."

"Come off it. He wouldn't worry about his mother. Unless she owed him money. I'll hang on until I find someone who'll give me a loan. Then I won't need his concern, or anyone else's. That includes you, Van."

They confronted each other in silence long enough for some of the rigidity to flow from their muscles. Van spoke first."I think you have a good idea how much I care for you. Today's as close as we've come to a real argument. The dumb thing is, we always fuss about the same thing. Okay, can we just be a man and a woman and see where that takes us? No more arguments. I just want to make you want to be with me."