“Beautiful? Everyone thinks Catherine is the most beautiful.”
“She is—in her way. But your way—the slightly upturned nose with a few freckles, that wavy hair, the spectacular blue eyes, those
very
straight teeth—is the way that appeals to me.”
He reached out and ran a finger down the side of her face. “For a long time, I had a lot of tortured nights. My heart would start pounding and I’d feel like I was hanging just on the edge of an abyss. Then I’d have the sensation of feeling your face. I’d recall how it felt to rub my fingers over every warm curve from your forehead over your temples and your closed eyes, down your nose to your lips—lips that would pucker and barely kiss my finger. I’d feel warm all over and—”
He went silent when Marissa lightly kissed his finger, never taking her gaze from his. His hand moved from her lips, sliding under her hair and lifting it before his own lips touched the hot, sensitive skin of her neck. She knew she made a soft sound of pleasure before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and sought his lips with her own. The kiss seemed to go on and on and Marissa felt as if she were warm and safe and soaring through an exquisite world she’d hadn’t known since the last time Eric kissed her—a magical, loving world where she wanted to stay forever.
She could feel her own breath quickening, her heart beating in time with his. She buried her hands in his thick hair and then let them drift down his back, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. She pulled the shirt loose from his pants and slipped her hands upward again, this time rubbing his skin as their tongues touched lightly, then with more confidence, more passion. Eric broke off their kiss and moved his mouth to her ear.
“Is your bedroom in the same place?”
“Of course.”
“Then I won’t need directions.”
Eric rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand, looking down at her. “I’m not going to tell you that I’ve always loved you.”
“How gallant of you.”
“I’m not going to tell you that I’ve always loved you because you won’t believe me, but it’s true.”
“You having broken off our engagement two months before the wedding does make it hard to believe, Eric.”
“I thought I’d explained all of that to you. Would you like to consult Catherine?”
“I don’t think she can be objective. She wanted to throw a brick through your windshield.”
“Oh. I didn’t know how clinical psychologists handled these matters.”
“Well, she wasn’t a clinical psychologist yet, so I’m going to accept your explanation.” She lifted her head and kissed him lightly. “Okay?”
“
Very
okay.”
Eric looked around the room. “The few times your parents weren’t home and we sneaked up here, I seem to remember this room done in subdued shades of blue. Have you changed it?”
“Yes.” A week after you broke off our engagement, she thought, but didn’t want to bring up that subject again or tell him she couldn’t let herself forget one of the happiest times of her life. “You now see cream-colored carpet, azure walls, a bright yellow chair and bedspread. Do the colors remind you of anything?”
Eric closed his eyes for less than a minute. “Let’s see—the beach in Jamaica?”
“Right! I guess it could be a lot of beaches, but I pictured the one we sneaked off to the spring break of my junior year of college.”
“And the print of Toulouse-Lautrec’s
Moulin Rouge?
”
“The nightlife! Don’t you remember?”
“Oh, of course. I don’t see anyone in the print wearing low-rise jeans and holding a piña colada, though.”
“You need glasses.”
“I wish we were in Jamaica right now,” Eric said, leaning over to give her a kiss.
Marissa smiled. “How could you possibly want to leave all the fun we’re having right here in Aurora Falls?”
“It’s not all bad, Marissa. I got you back.”
Marissa went still, barely breathing. Eric rattled on for a couple of minutes before asking, “What’s wrong?”
“You got me back?” she asked. “Is that what you think? You got me back?”
Eric pulled her close to him and turned her face so she’d have to gaze at him instead of the ceiling. “I didn’t get you back? What just happened? A jump in the hay for old times’ sake?”
“No. Not at all. But you can’t wipe away over four years of hurt, disappointment, and humiliation in a week, Eric. And I know you think you’ve analyzed everything that was going on with you after Gretchen died, but you haven’t. You’ve come to some conclusions. You’re thinking straighter. That’s great. But it doesn’t make everything all right with you, or me, or us.”
Eric looked at her for a moment, his expression stunned. Then he rolled onto his other side. “I thought you loved me, Marissa. I felt it. At least I thought I felt it.”
“I do love you, Eric. My love is different than it was the first time around, though. I’m older. I’ve realized I have to be cautious, especially when it comes to us.”
“So I haven’t suffered enough.”
Marissa sighed. She started to say something sweet and comforting, but she couldn’t and be honest, too. “Dammit, you’re acting like a spoiled little boy. You didn’t want me, so you threw me away. Now you feel better and I still love you, so you believe everything is okay again. You’re twenty-nine years old, Eric. Think like it!” He didn’t answer. “Have you fallen into a pouting spell?”
“I was on the verge, but you’ve shamed me out of it.”
“That’s good.”
“So I’ve done one thing right.”
“You have done many things right and I do love you. I’ve never been in love with another man. Honestly, I don’t want
ever
to be in love with another man. I just want things to be right, Eric. We really screwed up once. I don’t want us to get married, have a child, and screw up things again. I don’t think I could bear it. Do you love me enough to give us time? To not assume we’re a couple ready to set a wedding date?”
“Do you want to see other men?” he asked.
“No. If we do things my way, will you want to see other women?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Eric’s back was still turned to her. Marissa reached over him, pressed her body against his, and nibbled on his ear. “Then there’s no reason we can’t start fresh, Chief Deputy. After all, we already have the most important thing on our side.”
“And what is that?”
“Love, you goof.” She laughed, tickling him and overjoyed to hear his raucous laughter. “Love!”
Chapter 21
1
Marissa lay peacefully in Eric’s arms as they listened to a Bryan Ferry CD. “When are you expecting Catherine and James home?” Eric asked.
“Probably not until eleven at the earliest. I’m so glad James took her out. Will’s death hit her hard. She might have been his only real friend. I was afraid she’d completely fall apart when she heard he’d been murdered.”
“It would take a lot to make Catherine fall apart.”
Marissa lifted her head and looked at Eric. “What do you mean? You know she’s…well, not fragile, but—”
“Honey, you’re doing the same thing to your sister that I did to Gretchen.”
“No, I’m not. I know Catherine isn’t a little china doll, but she’s just not as tough as I’ve always been.” Eric started laughing. “What’s so funny? You know it’s true.”
“Your sister
is
as tough as you are, Marissa. She’s just not as noisy about it.”
“Noisy!”
“Yes. You think you’re indestructible and you let everybody know it. One day I expect to see you thumping your chest and roaring at the world.”
“How charming, you sweet talker.”
“Catherine’s strength is quiet,” Eric went on, ignoring Marissa’s sarcasm. “I saw it the night you came to the cemetery to see your mother’s grave. You were the one who looked into the grave without really seeing. It was Catherine who held your hand, who told you to take a deep breath and focus, who took you in her arms. Neither one of you knew what was in that hole, but Catherine wasn’t afraid to look. You were. I saw the fear in your eyes.”
“Oh,” Marissa said slowly. “I didn’t realize…she just seems to worry so much and she hates taking risks and—”
“And here’s what used to be our song,” Eric interrupted as “Slave to Love” began to play. “Remember the night we played this song so many times at the Lonesome Me the manager told us we’d have to leave if we didn’t stop hogging the jukebox.”
Marissa laughed. “So we let other people make selections for ten minutes, then played Slave to Love again.”
“And got thrown out.”
“I think we were the only people not trying to start a fight who were ever thrown out of the place. I believe our picture is on the wall.” Marissa smiled. “Your mother would be so proud.”
Eric grinned. “At least there would no chance of her stopping in there for dinner and seeing it.”
The phone rang. Eric groaned out of habit and Marissa said, “Relax. It’s our house phone. Probably someone wanting to know if I can tell them any more about Will Addison’s murder.” She picked up the handset. “Hello?”
“Marissa! Is that you?”
The voice was so loud Marissa almost didn’t recognize it. “Jean?”
“Yes. Oh, thank God you’re home. Mitch is dying.”
“Dying!” Marissa felt as if she’d just been dealt a blow. “You have to call the hospital!”
“
No.
He said he wanted to die here and I won’t go against his wishes about something so important. I’ve tried to get hold of Eric at his apartment—”
“He’s here.”
“Oh, thank God! Will you please come? I can’t go through this alone. Mitch would want to see the three of you.” Marissa heard a gurgling moan in the background.
“Hurry!”
Before she could hang up, Eric asked urgently, “Is Mitch dying?”
“How did you know?”
“Jean was so loud, I could hear part of what she said.”
“She wants us to come and be with her. She said ‘the three of you.’ She assumes Catherine is here.”
Eric was already climbing out of bed. “Don’t call Catherine. Let her enjoy herself. She doesn’t need to see Mitch die.”
“I thought you said she was so strong, yet you don’t want
her
to see him die? What about me?”
Eric looked at her solemnly. “Sweetheart, no one should be asked to see someone they love die.”
2
Eric redressed in his uniform and out of habit even included his holster and gun. When Eric had insisted on carrying Marissa up the stairs to her bedroom, she’d glanced out the window and seen snow and wind blowing around small limbs on trees. She knew the weather had only worsened since they’d been in bed, so she slipped into jeans, a heavy sweater, and knee-high boots. She pulled her tousled hair back into a ponytail and didn’t even glance at her makeup. Downstairs they each put on down jackets, and Marissa fished in her pockets until she found her gloves.
They stepped outside into a darkness of damp, thrusting wind. Eric took her arm and pulled her close to him as they hurried to the sheriff’s car. Inside, they both brushed snow from their shoulders and Marissa wished she’d remembered to grab her knit stocking cap.
“I didn’t realize it was so bad out here,” she said. “The newsman didn’t predict a blizzard.” Then she smiled ruefully. “Which is exactly what I told Catherine the night of my wreck.”
“She thinks you’re safe and sound with me at home,” Eric said. “She won’t be worried like last Saturday night. And I think you can count on James to take good care of her.” Eric looked over at Marissa and winked. “Very good care.”
“You sound like a dirty old man. This is only their third date.”
“Third date’s the charm.” Eric sobered. “I called in to headquarters, got Robbie, and told her where we’re going. She promised not to tell Catherine if she calls, but my people need to know we haven’t disappeared.”
“Good,” Marissa answered. “I wasn’t thinking of anyone except Catherine.”
They fell into silence, reminding Marissa of their drive back from seeing Mitch on Thursday. He’d looked bad then, but could he have gone downhill so fast in two days? Apparently, he had. Once again, Marissa wished Jean weren’t so insistent on carrying out Mitch’s last wishes. After all, a man as sick as he was couldn’t be thinking clearly. Certainly having him die in the hospital would be easier on Jean, Marissa thought. Mitch would have doctors and nurses around, someone besides Jean would call the funeral home, and his loving wife wouldn’t have only Marissa and Eric for company when Mitch told Jean good-bye for the last time.
Eric turned a knob and the windshield wipers swiped back and forth faster. The streets were nearly deserted, and as they drove through the edge of the downtown section Marissa noticed a few restaurants that usually stayed open until midnight had already closed for the night. She glanced at her watch. Eleven ten. Marissa thought she probably should have left a note for Catherine, but then Catherine would be determined to come to the Farrell house, James would insist on driving her instead of letting her come by herself, and two more people would be in danger. No, it would be better for Catherine to wonder where her sister was while she remained in their warm, safe home.
When Marissa and Eric left town and started toward the Farrells’ on Falls Way, she noticed her hands were cold even in her gloves and she dug them into her pockets. She looked around and it seemed as if darkness had drifted to the earth and clung tenaciously to every sign, tree limb, telephone wire, and especially the road. She was reminded of the night of her wreck and was surprised when she began to tremble. She knew the shakiness was from partly cold but also fear—reliving that awful night in her mind. The dark and the snow blocked her view of the Orenda River, but she couldn’t forget that just a week ago she’d gone for one last trip in her car, a trip that could have ended in her death.
“It’s going to be hell getting an ambulance out here and loading Mitch’s body into it,” Eric said in a businesslike voice. “Jean will want to ride with him, and she might be in such bad shape, you’ll have to ride with her.”
Marissa flinched at the thought. Surprise also trickled through her that Eric was talking logistics so coolly. Then she reminded herself that cool logic had always been his way of dodging tragedy or danger long enough to get his job done. When he’d gotten everything in order, he would give in to what he really felt. Marissa reached over and touched his arm. He looked at her and smiled. She tried to smile back, but the smile turned out crooked.