Banishing the Dark
Page 11
“I hear you,” I said in a quiet voice. “And I love you. But I’m very, very scared.”
“Me, too,” he said, pulling me closer. “All of the above.”
We drove straight home from the wine bar. I pretended I wasn’t quietly panicking while Jupe talked my ear off and watched TV for a while. After Lon sent him to bed, the two of us headed to the covered back patio, where we could talk without worrying we’d be overheard. Where we could make a plan.
Midnight was my new noon. I supposed I was doomed to keep bartender hours from now until God knew when. I shivered under a blanket and pecked at a tablet touch screen.
“Nothing in Los Angeles,” I confirmed to Lon. “When I look up ‘Wildeye’ and ‘private investigator,’ I get one hit in Golden Peak, California.”
“That’s a little resort town in Big Sur, maybe three or four hours south of us.”
“Robert Wildeye . . . huh.”
“What?”
I peered at the screen. “He’s got a website. Says he’s in Golden Peak and gives a phone number. No street address. No e-mail. No nothing. Just says, ‘Private Investigator. Confidential. Twenty years experience. Licensed and insured. Premium rates for premium service.’ Oh, interesting. Nox symbol.” Two interlocking circles that indicated the business was Earthbound-friendly.
“Any reviews on other sites?” Lon asked.
I backed out of the page and searched again, using the full name. Only scam sites trying to get you to fork over your credit-card number in exchange for a bogus background check. “It’s like he barely exists,” I said, shivering again.
“Maybe he only exists if you have enough cash.” Lon padded over to the control panel to turn on the heating in the cement flooring.
“Luckily, you do. But I think we need to be careful about contacting him. What if he tries to give us the slip? Or what if he was friends with Dare?”
“Dare didn’t have friends. The town’s not that big, and it’s the off-season. Bet we can ask around and figure out how to find him.”
He sounded a lot more hopeful than I felt, but at least it was a place to start. One small thing decided. Now there was just the other enormous one to face. I set the tablet on a nearby patio table and sighed.
We hadn’t told Jupe the news. Hell, I was still in shock myself. And feeling more than a little foolish. Seriously. Who doesn’t know they’re pregnant? Even Lon said he’d noticed I had missed a period in November, but he just chalked it up to stress, since I’d been busy working at the bar while juggling piddly magical jobs for the Hellfire Club in my off time. Then there was that horrible afternoon on the chartered boat. And the holidays spent chasing down the boys who robbed Tambuku while they were amped up on Dare’s bionic drug.
Not to mention putting Yvonne in the hospital.
So, yeah. I’d been under a lot of stress. But no use dwelling on the whys and hows. I was pregnant, and that’s all there was to it. I had choices, of course, but when I considered whether I was ready for something so life-changing, I knew my situation could be worse. I was an adult in a solid relationship. More than solid. I really couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Couldn’t even imagine wanting to. Kar Yee joked about all the men she fantasized about. But no matter where they started, all my fantasies eventually led back to Lon.
And maybe I’d never be a domestic goddess, baking pies and arranging tablescapes for dinner parties, but I was pretty good at handling Jupe. Better than Lon sometimes, but that was mostly because he’d been a single parent too long. If I had to raise Jupe alone, I’d lose my shit on occasion, too. All things considered, Lon was a damn good father.
Financially, it wasn’t a problem. I had savings. Not a lot, granted, and I hoped Kar Yee wasn’t so fed up with me that she wanted to ditch our partnership in Tambuku. No, I couldn’t imagine myself slinging drinks with a baby bump, but she could manage just fine without me, at least for a little while.
And Lon was more than financially stable. Maybe he was only rich compared with someone working-class like me, but he didn’t hurt for anything, and even if he decided to retire from photography, he had his inheritance.
So, yeah. Logically, there was no reason not to have a baby.
And emotionally? God help me, but despite the chaos that seemed to plague my life before and after I’d met Lon, it was our baby. Us. Him and me. We made it together, no matter how foolishly. Hell, yeah, I wanted it. Fiercely.
There was only the small matter of my murderous mother.
“How’s that?” Lon asked. “You feel it warming up, or you want me to light a fire?”
“No need. It’s much better,” I said, holding the blanket up so he could crawl under with me on a wide wicker chaise. When he stretched out and wrapped his arms around me, his warmth chased the last of the chill away.
Lon often lounged out here, reading beneath the cover of the deep roof. From this vantage point, my gaze drifted over the wraparound redwood deck and the green lawn beyond, lush with palms and Monterrey cypresses. Past the cliffs, the moon-bathed Pacific spread out like a never-ending black carpet.
“Eleven weeks,” I murmured. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means the baby’s the size of a shrimp.”
He held up his fingers to demonstrate. This made my stomach flutter nervously.
“We’ll find an obstetrician,” he said, brushing my hair aside to tuck his chin in the crook of my neck.
“Me, too,” he said, pulling me closer. “All of the above.”
We drove straight home from the wine bar. I pretended I wasn’t quietly panicking while Jupe talked my ear off and watched TV for a while. After Lon sent him to bed, the two of us headed to the covered back patio, where we could talk without worrying we’d be overheard. Where we could make a plan.
Midnight was my new noon. I supposed I was doomed to keep bartender hours from now until God knew when. I shivered under a blanket and pecked at a tablet touch screen.
“Nothing in Los Angeles,” I confirmed to Lon. “When I look up ‘Wildeye’ and ‘private investigator,’ I get one hit in Golden Peak, California.”
“That’s a little resort town in Big Sur, maybe three or four hours south of us.”
“Robert Wildeye . . . huh.”
“What?”
I peered at the screen. “He’s got a website. Says he’s in Golden Peak and gives a phone number. No street address. No e-mail. No nothing. Just says, ‘Private Investigator. Confidential. Twenty years experience. Licensed and insured. Premium rates for premium service.’ Oh, interesting. Nox symbol.” Two interlocking circles that indicated the business was Earthbound-friendly.
“Any reviews on other sites?” Lon asked.
I backed out of the page and searched again, using the full name. Only scam sites trying to get you to fork over your credit-card number in exchange for a bogus background check. “It’s like he barely exists,” I said, shivering again.
“Maybe he only exists if you have enough cash.” Lon padded over to the control panel to turn on the heating in the cement flooring.
“Luckily, you do. But I think we need to be careful about contacting him. What if he tries to give us the slip? Or what if he was friends with Dare?”
“Dare didn’t have friends. The town’s not that big, and it’s the off-season. Bet we can ask around and figure out how to find him.”
He sounded a lot more hopeful than I felt, but at least it was a place to start. One small thing decided. Now there was just the other enormous one to face. I set the tablet on a nearby patio table and sighed.
We hadn’t told Jupe the news. Hell, I was still in shock myself. And feeling more than a little foolish. Seriously. Who doesn’t know they’re pregnant? Even Lon said he’d noticed I had missed a period in November, but he just chalked it up to stress, since I’d been busy working at the bar while juggling piddly magical jobs for the Hellfire Club in my off time. Then there was that horrible afternoon on the chartered boat. And the holidays spent chasing down the boys who robbed Tambuku while they were amped up on Dare’s bionic drug.
Not to mention putting Yvonne in the hospital.
So, yeah. I’d been under a lot of stress. But no use dwelling on the whys and hows. I was pregnant, and that’s all there was to it. I had choices, of course, but when I considered whether I was ready for something so life-changing, I knew my situation could be worse. I was an adult in a solid relationship. More than solid. I really couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Couldn’t even imagine wanting to. Kar Yee joked about all the men she fantasized about. But no matter where they started, all my fantasies eventually led back to Lon.
And maybe I’d never be a domestic goddess, baking pies and arranging tablescapes for dinner parties, but I was pretty good at handling Jupe. Better than Lon sometimes, but that was mostly because he’d been a single parent too long. If I had to raise Jupe alone, I’d lose my shit on occasion, too. All things considered, Lon was a damn good father.
Financially, it wasn’t a problem. I had savings. Not a lot, granted, and I hoped Kar Yee wasn’t so fed up with me that she wanted to ditch our partnership in Tambuku. No, I couldn’t imagine myself slinging drinks with a baby bump, but she could manage just fine without me, at least for a little while.
And Lon was more than financially stable. Maybe he was only rich compared with someone working-class like me, but he didn’t hurt for anything, and even if he decided to retire from photography, he had his inheritance.
So, yeah. Logically, there was no reason not to have a baby.
And emotionally? God help me, but despite the chaos that seemed to plague my life before and after I’d met Lon, it was our baby. Us. Him and me. We made it together, no matter how foolishly. Hell, yeah, I wanted it. Fiercely.
There was only the small matter of my murderous mother.
“How’s that?” Lon asked. “You feel it warming up, or you want me to light a fire?”
“No need. It’s much better,” I said, holding the blanket up so he could crawl under with me on a wide wicker chaise. When he stretched out and wrapped his arms around me, his warmth chased the last of the chill away.
Lon often lounged out here, reading beneath the cover of the deep roof. From this vantage point, my gaze drifted over the wraparound redwood deck and the green lawn beyond, lush with palms and Monterrey cypresses. Past the cliffs, the moon-bathed Pacific spread out like a never-ending black carpet.
“Eleven weeks,” I murmured. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means the baby’s the size of a shrimp.”
He held up his fingers to demonstrate. This made my stomach flutter nervously.
“We’ll find an obstetrician,” he said, brushing my hair aside to tuck his chin in the crook of my neck.
