The Devil You Know (15 page)

Chapter Thirteen

By
Friday evening, Marie had gotten into a comfortable routine with Jasper and Tom—perusing
old books with Jasper in his library, followed by dinner and coffee and
conversation before a late drive home. Twice, she had arrived with Jasper and
his bicycle to find Tom at work on the old Dodge in the driveway. She always
warmed at the sight of him.

Tonight,
though, there was some deviation in the routine; Jasper excused himself shortly
after dinner, saying he had not slept well the night before. Earlier, Marie had
told him about her encounter with Laura Tremaine; the details had disturbed
him, and he warned Marie not to go back to the woman’s apartment alone. When
Jasper announced that he was retiring early, Marie initially took it as a cue
to leave. She wondered if her story had inadvertently upset him, but Jasper
insisted she stay seated as he shuffled out of the room, cheerfully calling out
his goodnights from the back of the house. There was a moment’s awkward silence
in his absence, and Tom stood up and took their empty pie plates back into the
kitchen.

“More
coffee?” he asked her as he went.

“Sure,”
Marie said, getting up to bring him her cup.

For
the first time since she started at St. Lucy’s, she had lately found herself
checking her watch over and over throughout the week, groaning inwardly at the
crawl of the hour hand. When not doing any of the myriad tasks Father Joe had
for her each day, she turned not to hidden issues of
Weird Tales
, but rather to the yellow notepad that she had been
bringing to Jasper’s every evening. With a sharp pencil, she had written down
everything the two of them learned about demonic incarnations, and she studied
her notes every day, as though she were back in school and hoping to earn an A
in this most bizarre subject. Along with considering all this newfound
knowledge, she often simply stared out the window and thought. She replayed the
previous Friday and what had happened to Elise; she thought about her encounter
with Colin Krebs outside the Chinese Theater; she wondered if she should have
handled Laura Tremaine differently; and more than anything she let herself
linger over bits of conversation with Tom Glass.

Now
she stood with Tom in the kitchen as he poured more coffee, and she thought not
for the first time about what it would be like to kiss him. Tom was smart and
charismatic and good-looking. Sometimes he looked a little sad and far away,
but he could also make her laugh easily, and he stirred things in her that she
had not felt in long time. He smiled at her now as he handed her the cup, and
it filled her with warmth as she smiled back. She hoped she wasn’t blushing as
she took the cup and turned back toward the dining area.

Impulsively,
she said, “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself I don’t already
know?”

He
grinned and ran a hand through his hair as he thought about it. Playfully, he
said, “So just how much do you already know? I’d hate to be repetitive.”

She
laughed a little. Mocking him, she tapped her forefinger against her chin and
said, “Hmmm. What do I know about you? You like old cars and John Wayne movies.
You fought in Europe. You cook a mean roast beef. And you like gazebos.”

“Makes
me sound pretty pathetic,” he joked. Then he raised his eyebrows and said, “Aha!
Bet you didn’t know I play the guitar.”

“That
old thing in the other room? I’ve wondered about that. It didn’t quite seem
like your grandfather’s cup of tea.”

“Well,
it’s not exactly mine, either,” he said. “It’s kind of an exaggeration to say I
play it. I haven’t picked it up since before the war. Besides, I think I only
know two songs.”

“I’d
love to hear one,” she said.

“Don’t
be so sure, Marie. All I know is ‘You Are My Sunshine’ and ‘Singin’ in the
Rain.’”

She
laughed loudly and then clapped a hand over her mouth when she remembered
Jasper had gone to bed.

“It’s
not that funny, is it?” he asked.

She
held her lips firmly together for a few more seconds to keep from laughing and
then was able to say, “You only know songs about the weather?”

Now
Tom laughed with her. “I never thought about it like that before,” he finally
said.

“So
do I get to hear one?”

He
sighed with resignation and handed her his coffee cup. “Let’s take it outside.
I don’t want to wake Gramps.”

Marie
felt a tingle of excitement as she waited with the coffee beside the screen
door while Tom went to fetch the guitar. She told herself she was being silly,
acting like a schoolgirl about to be serenaded by some gawky boy. But there was
nothing gawky about Tom Glass, and when she saw him come back into the room
with the battered guitar in hand, the tingling feeling ignited again.

“Thing’s
got a busted string,” he said as he took the coffee cup and walked beside her
out to the gazebo.

Marie
knew nothing about guitars and said, “Can you still get something out of it?”

“I
can fake it,” he said.

When
they got to the gazebo, Tom brushed away the dust from a bench and then stepped
aside to let Marie sit first. “My grandfather tell you why I’m here?” he asked.
“With him, I mean.”

“He
did,” Marie said quietly. She smoothed her skirt as Tom sat beside her and
started tuning the guitar.

“It
doesn’t bother you?”

“Why
would it?”

Tom
shrugged. “You hear things. ‘Buck up.’ ‘Pull yourself together.’ ‘You wouldn’t
be this way if there were still machine gun fire whizzing over your head.’” He
paused to listen to the notes for a moment before adding, “People think you’re
weak if you can’t just put it all behind you.”

“I’m
sure it’s not for lack of trying.”

Tom
grunted a short laugh. “That’s for sure.”

There
was a few moments’ silence between them as Tom kept hitting notes on different
strings and twisting the tuning pegs. As she watched, Marie knew what she
wanted to say next, but held herself back. When Tom said nothing else, she
ventured, “It was pretty awful for you. Over there.”

“At
times.” He looked up from the guitar. “Other times not so bad. There are
actually a lot of good memories when you think about it. Even when things were
dangerous, there’s a kind of exhilaration just thinking about it. Regular life
back here just…well, it doesn’t compare somehow.”

“Hard
to adjust,” she said with a nod.

He
turned to her suddenly, a puzzled smile on his face. “That’s just what I was
going to say.” He shook his head and reached for his coffee before he went on.
“It’s so damn weird that being back here actually seems tougher. Nobody behind
the trees, no land mines or pillboxes or machine guns. But every now and then
it’s like there may as well be.”

“How
often does it happen?”

“At
first, three, maybe four times a day. Now not so often. Gramps wouldn’t want
you to know, but I’m the reason he slept so badly last night. I get pretty loud
with the nightmares sometimes.”

“I’m
sorry,” Marie said.

He
shrugged and went back to tuning the guitar. “Thanks. Like I said, it’s getting
better. I haven’t had to take a Nembutal in about a month now.”

“They
help you sleep?”

“Mm-hmm.
There was a while where I couldn’t get to sleep without them, but I don’t like
feeling dopey, so we started cutting them in half.”

Marie
was unsure of what would be the best thing to say, and came up with, “That’s
admirable” after a few seconds.

“Gramps
told me about you, too,” he continued. “What happened to your husband. I hope
you don’t mind.”

“No.”
She shook her head and gave a grim smile. Thinking about the wedding ring she
had taken off only a week ago, she said, “It’s all right, really. I’m moving
on. It’s so strange to think, you know, that someone you love just stops…being.
And the rest of us just keep going—eating, sleeping, hearts beating. The
days go by, and you get older, and before long you’re not even the same person
anymore. You’re not the one who got left behind. It’s like you’ve died, too. Or
that part of you has.”

Tom
strummed a chord. The guitar sounded in tune even with the missing string, but
he set it aside. “I know that feeling,” he said quietly.

She
nodded and finished her coffee. A silence hung between them for a moment, and
Marie had to wonder if she hadn’t touched a nerve. She had never been around
someone with a problem like Tom’s, and she worried for a moment that he had
somehow slipped away from her now. Finally, she spoke again, not knowing what
she would do if Tom did not respond. “Did Jasper tell you what he and I are
looking for in his books?”

“A
little.” His voice was quiet, but not at all far away, and Marie felt relieved
to know he was still there with her in body and mind.

“Do
you find that strange?” she asked.

Raising
an eyebrow, he took an incredulous tone and said, “Why wouldn’t I?”

She
laughed, relieved to hear him joke with her. “I have to admit it’s a rather odd
interest.”

“It
is. But he said you’re trying to save a friend of yours. And to stop some other
people from getting hurt.” He shrugged, sadness in his eyes. “That’s not so
odd.”

“A
bit like what you were doing in the war?”

“A
bit.” He picked up the guitar again. “So what’ll it be? Sunshine or rain?”

“Definitely
sunshine,” she said.

“This
is bound to be a little rusty,” he said as he began to strum the chords with a
happy sounding rhythm. He hit a few sour notes, but soon he had the feeling for
the song and began singing to her. His voice was low but sweet, and she felt a
chill rise up her neck and across her shoulders. He sang only two verses before
stopping with a shrug and saying, “That’s all I know of that one.”

She
clapped lightly and said, “That was nice.”

“Thanks,”
he said as he put the guitar aside again. “I’ll work on something a little more
up to date for you for next time.”

“Okay,”
she said quietly, thinking about the implications of
next time
. “I’ll look forward to that.”

“You
know…” he said, “I look forward to seeing you all the time.”

“Me,
too.”

Without
saying another word, he leaned over and kissed her lightly, his lips brushing
hers in the dark and then pulling away before she had a chance to respond. She
turned to him and smiled.

“Is
that all right?” he asked quietly.

She
nodded, still smiling, and said nothing—just touched his cheek and leaned
over to kiss him back. It lasted longer this time, and Marie grew warm all
over.

“We
should go out,” he said. “Just us.”

“Nothing
against Jasper?”

Tom
smiled. “He was young once. He’ll understand.”

They
stayed in the gazebo for almost another hour, Marie leaning in closer to him as
the night grew colder. They kissed several more times in between exchanged
stories about their pasts. At one point, Tom put the guitar in her lap and
wrapped his arms around her to guide her fingers and show her how to make a few
simple chords. She was terrible at it, and they both laughed before kissing
some more. By the time Marie forced herself to get up and begin making her
exit, she felt as if she had known Tom forever. He walked her through the house
and out to her car where they stood embracing and kissing each other goodnight
for a long time.

When
she got home, Marie told herself it would be difficult to fall asleep. Her
heart still pounded whenever she thought of what had happened. But only minutes
after she had switched off her bedroom light and pulled the blankets up, she
fell into a sleep more peaceful than she had known in a long, long time.

* * * * * * * *

The
following day was Saturday, and Marie went to the bookstore just as she had
done throughout the week. All day, thoughts caromed off each other; not only
did she worry about Elise, but she also replayed her bizarre meeting with Laura
Tremaine and wondered if the poor woman had already had further encounters with
her demon lover. As serious as these things were, though, her thoughts
continuously gravitated back to Tom. She replayed the night before, lingering
over the smooth brush of his lips on hers, the wonderful feeling of his strong
hands on her shoulders, and the way he caressed her cheeks with his fingers.
All day, she had resisted the urge to call Jasper’s home and talk to Tom. Giddy
as a teenager, she contented herself to wait until late afternoon and a repeat
of the week’s routine. The trick tonight, she told herself, would be to find a
way to get Tom alone again, and she hoped he would be a willing co-conspirator.

Walking
from her car to the bookstore, she forced herself to hide the secret smile she
had worn most of the day and readied herself for a bit of casual conversation
with Jasper before helping him load his bike and heading back to his house for
more research. But when she entered, she found Jasper in a far more excited
state than she had come to expect. His demeanor was always pleasantly relaxed,
especially in the store. Only at home did he get energized. Today, however, was
different.