Body and Soul Page 8

  Warnings. He walked a fine knife’s edge himself.

  “You’re all I have, Jesse,” he said.

  She turned her face away. “Didn’t you learn in your war that it’s dangerous to rely too much on anyone? Or is that what got you killed?”

  “And what taught you never to trust?”

  Handfuls of grass came up as she pushed to her feet. “There’s something else you’d better understand. If you did something so terrible that you deserved the punishment you’re suffering, I won’t be the one to absolve you of it. I believe that people pay for what they do. If there’s any justice in the world—” She let the torn blades fall to the ground. “If there’s any justice, evil is punished.”

  He rose with the speed of movement he’d learned in the war, still remembered by his ghostly form. “Look at me, Jesse. Do you believe I’m evil?”

  Her glance brushed his face but refused to linger. He would have seized her had she run, despite her warnings, but she stood very still and waited for the reassurances that would convince her of his worth.

  Yes, his gaolers were laughing. They’d assigned him a harsh judge indeed.

  “Whatever sins I may have committed,” he said, “is not nearly two centuries of prison punishment enough?”

  “I don’t know. How can I?”

  Her anguish touched something within him, slipping through his own defenses, his own overwhelming need for what he must win from her. She suffered; he could offer comfort. It was in his power. Long after Sophie’s death, when he had no distraction from memory, he’d tormented himself with thoughts of how he could have comforted her when she’d begged for it.

  But Sophie’s need had threatened to engulf him in a morass of despair. He’d spent his life staying one step ahead of that ravenous demon. There was no greater danger to him now than caring about this woman, becoming involved in her pain beyond what he must understand to liberate himself.

  “I’m not wrong about you, Jesse,” he said. “They weren’t wrong when they sent me to you.”

  “Who?” Her fists tightened into knots at her sides. “Who sent you?”

  “I never see them. They leave me alone in my punishment. Except this one time when they allowed me to return.”

  “Then it’s not my forgiveness you require,” she said. “I’ll do … what I can. That’s all I can promise.”

  “I ask no more.”

  “And if I choose to send you back—” She met his gaze with a fierce intensity. “For whatever reason, you have to go. Do you agree to my terms?”

  So it was in war, whether fought with words and wits or muskets and swords. Terms and feints and retreats. Jesse sensed that they were adversaries, and yet she was willing to risk helping him when she had no incentive to do so.

  Except for that connection between them she couldn’t possibly understand. A connection David could not afford to forget but must never allow to weaken his resolve. And he had no doubt that if she commanded him to leave her, he would be forced to obey.

  He must make sure she never gave that command.

  “Very well,” he said. “I accept. And in exchange …” He looked at the shrub whose branches he’d been slowly denuding of leaves. He’d barely noted the pale blossoms; now he recognized them for what they were.

  Wild roses. The blossoms were simple, but they were roses nonetheless. Sophie had loved her roses.

  Carefully David chose a slender flower stem and took it in his fingers. He felt the cool life of it, exerted his will and snapped it clean.

  “In exchange,” he repeated softly, “I offer you the only thing I have to give. My friendship.”

  And before Jesse could move away, he closed the space between them, offered the flower with a half bow and a warm look that belied that small formality.

  Jesse stared at the rose. Her hand moved of its own accord, fingers twitching at the last minute to avoid touching his as she took the stem.

  “Thank you,” she said, with as much hesitation as if he’d asked her to lie with him in the long grass. The thought did not go unremarked by his not-so-spectral body, but the proof of his desire was hidden by the darkness.

  “Roses,” she said. “I dreamed …”

  “A garden,” he said. He picked a second rose for himself, raised it to his nose. “I remember roses in a garden. Not wild like this, but grown with care. And there was a fountain—”

  Jesse gasped and dropped her blossom. She put her finger to her mouth. David was near enough to see the flick of her tongue, the white flash of her teeth.

  “A thorn?” he asked. She shook her head, but he ignored the unspoken warning and came closer still, close enough to see the tiny dark bead on her fingertip.

  “Forgive me my carelessness,” he said. “Let me help you.”

  He took her stiff hand in his and turned it palm up. Her fingers curled away from him. But when he lifted her hand, she didn’t resist, not even when he brought it to his mouth.

  His tongue tasted blood. He knew blood so well. He’d seen his fill of it in war, envisioned Sophie’s blood on his hands.

  Jesse’s was as exquisite as the finest claret.

  “Don’t,” she whispered. “It’s nothing.”

  The urge was powerful, irresistible: to take her in his arms, master her with passion so that she could deny him nothing. Reckless, hotheaded, irresponsible—all he’d been in life and could resume so easily.

  He folded her fingers close to her palm and let her go. “One forgets that roses have thorns.”

  “It’s a good thing to remember,” she said. “Thank you for reminding me.” She turned and started down the hill, crushing the fallen rose under her foot.

  “Can there be beauty without risk?” he called after her.

  “There is no risk if you know what you’re doing.”

  “Then I’m in excellent hands.”

  She swung around, stepping out of his path. “I think we’ve talked enough for tonight. You’d better go and—recharge your batteries, or whatever it is you have to do.”

  She was right. He had to go back; already he could feel the toll of his extended physicality, a pulling from that other place. The fear rose in him: fear of that nothingness, knowing it would become more and more unbearable with every day spent on Earth.

  “Then I’ll return tomorrow,” he said. “In the morning—”

  “No. I have to work. I’ll—call you when I’m ready.”

  He bowed. “As you say. But don’t expect me to enjoy the separation. If only you knew—”

  “Jesse? Is that you?”

  The voice was not one David recognized, but at the sound of it Jesse threw him a look of panic and made a chopping gesture that couldn’t be misinterpreted.

  It was easier now for David to alter his form. He made himself fade, though he knew the woman coming up the hill would not be able to see him.

  “Kim,” Jesse said. She cleared her throat and stepped squarely in front of David. “This is a surprise.”

  “Sorry it’s so late.” Kim looked past Jesse up the hill, squinting against the darkness. She was taller than Jesse, bigger boned, attractive in an earthy way that reminded David of the women who’d followed the army in Spain and Portugal.

  “I found your invitation to my engagement party buried under junk on my desk,” Kim said, “and I wanted to make sure you got it.” She held out an envelope. “It’s tomorrow night, at Blue Rock. I hope you can come on such short notice.”

  Jesse took the envelope and held it in both hands. “Tomorrow night? I’m not sure—”

  “I know I screwed up, but it would mean a lot to me if you came.” Kim grinned. “Eric has never met you, and he’s such a great guy. I want to show him off. By this time you probably wonder if he even exists.”

  Jesse almost looked over her shoulder and stopped herself, tensing with the effort. “I’d like to meet him. I don’t see why I can’t come.”

  “Fantastic. I’ve reserved the pool deck and the main room at th
e Lodge for the evening; it should be fun.” She cast another glance behind Jesse. “Seven o’clock. Let’s hope no one calls for search and rescue in the middle of the celebration.” Her pleasant mouth grew serious. “How are you doing with that, Jesse? Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Fine.”

  “Good.” She scuffed her foot on the grass. “Tell me if this is too personal, but are you seeing someone?”

  Jesse grew very still. “Why do you ask?”

  “I … thought I heard you talking to someone up here. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

  “No,” Jesse said sharply. “There was no one.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s nothing. I talk to myself sometimes.” She smiled and waved vaguely toward the mountains. “You know how it is.”

  “Sure.” Kim wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “It’s cold up here. You’d think I’d know enough to bring a jacket. Well, I’d better get going. See you tomorrow night.”

  “Later. And thanks for the invitation.” Jesse watched Kim pick her way down the hillside, her own arms drawn across her chest. Only after Kim was safely out of sight did she turn.

  “Are you still here?” she asked.

  David had the sudden insight that he’d be wiser to maintain his invisibility. There was no welcome for him now.

  “They called me crazy once,” Jesse said to the air. “Did you know that, David Ventris? It’s not going to happen again.”

  And she marched the rest of the way down the hill, walked into her cottage, and shut the door.

  Marie’s damned lacy curtains let in the sunlight, but that wasn’t what woke Gary up. His alarm was much more pleasant, and Marie’s mouth surprisingly expert.

  Gary stretched and closed his eyes. He was always hard and aching in the morning; it wouldn’t be difficult to let this go to its inevitable conclusion. He liked the idea of filling Marie’s pretty mouth with everything he could give her.

  He opened one eye to glance at the clock beside the bed. Damn. Nearly ten o’clock. He could stay in bed and screw Marie all day as he’d done all night, but his business in town still wasn’t finished.

  With a low grunt he grabbed Marie’s shoulders. “Sorry, baby. Much as I’d like to oblige your appetites, I have other things on the menu today.”

  Marie rocked back, straddling his thighs and giving him a very tempting view of what she had so enthusiastically offered last night. Her hand wrapped around him possessively. “You have somewhere important to go?”

  “Duty calls.” He sat up, giving Marie another moment or two. Her long peach nails were pale against the flush of his shaft. “Don’t you have your restaurant to open up?”

  “We’re closed Wednesdays.”

  Gary almost reconsidered, but he hadn’t gotten where he was by indulging himself every time he got the urge. Not for many years now.

  “Why don’t you be a good girl and make me some coffee,” he said. “Seems I was up all night.”

  She shrugged, though the look in her eyes was sharp. “Your loss.” She dismounted and slipped from the bed, casually retrieving her black lace negligee from the antique chair in the corner of the bedroom. Expensive tastes, Marie had; more Bloomingdale’s than backwater country. And ambitions. Too bad she didn’t have Heather’s money.

  Too bad he wasn’t as generous as she probably thought he was.

  He got up and pulled on his briefs and trousers. The scent of strong black coffee drifted in from Marie’s kitchen. He sat down at the table and watched her move about, noting the exaggerated sway of her hips.

  “You have any plans for tonight?” she asked.

  “That depends.” He sipped the coffee. Just right. Maybe he should consider making Marie a permanent addition to his entourage. It wouldn’t be difficult to persuade her; her fancy restaurant wouldn’t last a year in this hick town. Heather was frigid as hell and couldn’t make a good cup of coffee to save her life.…

  “I was just talking to my friend Kim,” Marie said, draping herself across the opposite chair. “She’s invited me to her engagement party tonight. I can bring a guest.”

  So Marie wanted to make her liaison with him public. Already she had expectations, even if they were only to draw attention to the restaurant and glean a little reflected glory at the side of Manzanita’s new celebrity.

  “Who’s Kim?” he asked.

  “We both came to Manzanita around the same time, about three years ago. She works up at the Lodge.” Her lids dropped over her eyes. “You know, with Jesse Copeland.”

  “Oh?”

  “I heard you were asking about Jesse,” Marie said, matching his indifferent tone. “News spreads fast, and you’re big news.”

  “And what have you heard about me and Miss Copeland?”

  If she noticed the edge in his words, she didn’t let on. “That you have some kind of history together. She was a kid when you knew her. And you were with her mother. She committed suicide, didn’t she?”

  “You’ve been a busy little girl.” Gary set down his cup and smiled at her. “It’s no secret. I came to Manzanita when I was in my twenties, looking for work. Jesse’s mother was kind enough to give me a job at her resort. We became friends, and then …” He sighed. “Joan was a drinker. Impulsive, emotional. She needed help, and I tried to help her. She didn’t know how to manage the resort and it was losing money. I did what I could.”

  “And Jesse?”

  “Strange, troubled kid. Her father abandoned them several years before. I’m afraid she never did like me. Or any man.” He gazed into his empty mug. “I tried to show Joan how she was hurting herself and Jesse with her behavior, tried to help her make the resort profitable again. But she’d already chosen her path. One day she got bad news from the bank, and while I was away—”

  “She killed herself.” Marie shuddered.

  “They called it an accidental death. She drowned in the river. Her blood was full of alcohol. It would have killed her if the river hadn’t.”

  Marie got up and made some busy work at the counter. “I heard that something happened between you and Jesse at her mother’s funeral.”

  “Her attack on me, you mean. I’m afraid the child was too grief-stricken to be quite sane at the time. I would have helped her, but whenever I came near her she had hysterics. I had to leave town, for her sake, but I’ve never forgotten.”

  “And that’s why you’re so interested in her now.”

  Interested. Gary coldly considered the word. No. He’d never been interested in Jesse Copeland. Or her mother, beyond what conveniences she could provide at a time when he needed a place to hole up.

  Jesse had been a hostile, angry child—always watching him, condemning, as if she had the power to see through his pretense as no one else could.

  To hell with that. The girl hadn’t been psychic, only unbalanced. She meant nothing to him, except as an inconvenience to be dealt with.

  And yet she remained lodged in his thoughts, bound to his inexplicably rekindled fear of exposure. As if a child he’d nearly forgotten, this woman he didn’t know, had some claim on him, had the power to make him feel …

  He shook his head sharply and turned his attention back to Marie. “I didn’t know Jesse was here until I arrived,” he lied with the ease of long practice. “I’d hoped to speak to her, but if she still hates me as she did then—”

  “You’ll get a chance to find out if you come to Kim’s party,” Marie said. She turned to lean back against the counter, her expression deceptively cool. “Then you can forget about her.”

  Gary pushed away from the table. “Don’t you worry, little girl. One Copeland was enough for me.” He strolled to Marie and caught her face between his hands, kissed her hard the way she liked it. After she was gasping for breath, he released her and went to the bedroom for his shirt and jacket.

  She trailed after him. “I don’t think Kim knows about you and Jesse, except that you knew each other once. But she did mention she wa
s worried about how Jesse’s acting lately, ever since the Moran kid’s funeral.”

  “Did she?” Gary buttoned his shirt in front of Marie’s ornate full-length mirror and smoothed a wrinkle in his sleeve. “And how is Jesse acting?”

  “Kim told me she heard Jesse talking to herself last night, up on the hill behind her cabin. As if she was having a conversation with someone who wasn’t there.”

  Gary closed his eyes. “Just like her mother.”

  “So why waste your time worrying about her? She’s not your responsibility.” Marie linked her arm through his, rubbing her breast against his ribs. “There’s a lot better things you could be doing.”

  Jesus, yes. This party Marie mentioned—it would be the perfect opportunity to confront Jesse. Test her. Uncover anything she might be hiding. And then exorcise her from his thoughts forever.

  “Oh, I’m not worried.” He cupped Marie’s breast in his hand and squeezed. She bit her lip with a wince, but he knew she liked it rough. Just like Joan Copeland.

  He let her go and shrugged into his jacket. “I enjoyed our rendezvous, Marie. You’re a very talented girl. I hate to see you waste yourself on this town.”

  “Maybe I won’t have to.”

  “Anything’s possible.” He looked into her eyes, hinting at promises as potent as any aphrodisiac. “You get your beauty sleep, babe. We’ll have a nice private dinner at your restaurant tonight, and we’ll go to the party. But don’t tell Kim I’m coming. Let’s make it our surprise.”

  She followed him to the door and watched him walk to his car, was still waiting as he backed from the narrow gravel driveway. By the time he left the side street and pulled out onto the highway, he’d put her from his mind.

  But Jesse was there in Marie’s place, ready to haunt him again. Gary gripped the steering wheel until his fingers went numb.

  How would she react tonight? What would she do when they stood face to face after seventeen years?

  It was a calculated risk. He knew damned well that she hadn’t seen more than a glimpse of Hatch when he’d turned up at the resort seventeen years ago, and certainly none of what happened afterward. But if she did know something and blurted it out tonight …