Dance Upon the Air

Chapter Sixteen

Nell put it all out of her mind, or tried to, and went to work. She served coffee and muffins, joked with regulars. She wore her new blue sweater and stirred the pumpkin soup she had simmering for the lunch crowd.
She replenished the stack of business cards Mia had suggested that she put beside the cafe's cash register.
It was all so normal, almost breezy. Except she reached for the locket she no longer wore a dozen times through the morning. Each time she did, the image of Zack covered with blood flashed through her mind.
He'd had to go to the mainland that morning, and the idea of him being off-island was one more fear. He could be attacked on the street, mugged. Left to lie bleeding and dying.
By the end of her shift she'd concluded she hadn't done enough, and needed help.
She found Mia helping a customer with a selection of children's books. She waited, mentally wringing her hands, until the choices were made and the customer headed to checkout.
"I know you're busy, but I need to talk to you."
"All right. Let me get my jacket. We'll take a walk."
She was back moments later with a suede jacket tossed over her short dress. Both were the color of butternut squash that made her hair glint like a mane of fire.
She waved at Lulu as she walked out the front door. "Taking my lunch break. Great sweater," she added as they stepped outside. "Lulu's work, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"You've jumped a hurdle. She wouldn't have made you something that fine if she hadn't decided to accept you. Congratulations."
"Thanks. I... did you want to get some lunch?"
"No." Mia shook her hair back, breathed deep. There were times, rare times, when she felt locked inside the bookstore. When she needed space desperately. "I want to walk."
Ripley had been right about Indian summer. The cold snap had given way to balmy days of warmth and moist breezes that carried the scents of both sea and forest. The sky was clouded up, and against that dull pewter the trees rose like flaming beacons. The ocean mirrored the sky, and its kicky waves foretold a storm brewing.
"It'll rain within the hour," Mia predicted. "And look." She gestured out to sea. Seconds later, as if she'd ordered it, a pale jag of lightning cracked the steel mirror of sky. "Storm's coming. I love a good storm. The air goes electric and the energy of it pumps into your blood. Makes me restless, though. I want my cliffs in a storm."
Mia slipped out of her lovely shoes, hooked them on her fingers, and stepped barefoot into the sand. "The beach is almost empty," she pointed out. "It's a good place to walk, and for you to tell me what's troubling you."
"I had a... I don't know if it was a vision. I don't know what it was. It frightens me."
Mia slid her free arm through Nell's and kept the pace easy. "Tell me."
When she finished, Mia kept walking. "Why did you give him your locket?"
"It was all I could think of. An impulse. The thing that mattered most to me, I suppose."
"You were wearing it when you died. You brought it with you into your new life. This symbol of where you came from, this connection to your mother. Your talisman. Strong magic. He'll wear it because you asked him to, and that makes it stronger yet."
"It's a locket, Mia. Something my father bought my mother for Christmas one year. It's not particularly valuable."
"You know better than that. Its value is its meaning to you, and the love you have for your parents, the love you've given to Zack."
"Is it enough? I don't see how it can be. I know what it meant, Mia." And this was the terror that stretched like a beast inside her. "In the vision his face was gray, and the blood-there was so much blood. In the vision, he was dead." She made herself say it again. "He was dead. Isn't there something you can do?"
She'd already done all she could think of, all she felt within her power. "What do you think I can do that you haven't?"
"I don't know. So much more. Was it a premonition?"
"Is that what you believe?"
"Yes. Yes." Even thinking of it stopped her breath. "It was so clear. He's going to be killed, and I don't know how."
"What we see are possibilities, potentials, Nell. Nothing is absolute. Nothing, good or bad, is guaranteed. You were given this vision, and you acted to protect."
"Isn't there a way to stop whoever will try to hurt him? A spell?"
"Spells aren't a cure for every circumstance, or shouldn't be. And remember, what you send out can come back to you or yours, threefold. Attack one thing, unleash another."
She didn't say what went through her mind. Stop the knife, Mia thought grimly, and you may load a gun.
"A storm's coming," she repeated. "And more than the lightning is going to slash through the sky this afternoon."
"You know something."
"I feel something. I can't see it clearly. Perhaps it's not for me to see." That was a frustration, this barrier. And the knowledge that she, so long a solitary witch, couldn't do what needed to be done alone. "I'll help you all I can, that I can promise."
Even as she worried it wouldn't be enough, she saw Ripley standing on the edge of the sand. "Call Ripley down. She'll come for you. Tell her what you've told me."
Nell didn't have to call, only to turn and look. In her practical chinos and sensible boots, Ripley strode toward them. "You're going to get wet if you stay out here much longer."
"Thunder," Mia said, and a dull rumbling of it rolled above the sea. "Some lightning." And it burst like a firewall toward the west. "But no rain for a half hour or so."
"You forecasting the weather now, Glinda?" Ripley said pleasantly. "You ought to get yourself a job on TV."
"Don't. Not now." Nell expected the sky to break open any second, but she didn't care. "I'm worried about Zack."
"Yeah? Me, too. I've got to worry when my brother starts wearing girlie jewelry. But I have to thank you for giving me the opportunity to razz him."
"Did he tell you why he's wearing it?"
"No. And I hesitate to repeat just what he did say to me in such polite company. But it got our day off to a fine start."
"I had a vision," Nell began.
"Oh, perfect." In disgust, Ripley started to turn away, stopping when Nell gripped her arm. "I like you, Nell, but you're going to piss me off."
"Let her go, Nell. She's afraid to listen."
"I'm not afraid of anything." And it burned her butt that Mia knew exactly which button to push. "Go ahead, tell me what you saw in the crystal ball."
"I wasn't looking at a crystal ball. I was looking at Zack," Nell said, and told her.
No matter how hard she denied it, how carelessly she shrugged, Ripley was shaken down to the toes. "Zack can take care of himself." She paced away, and back again. "Look, in case you haven't noticed, he's a capable, thoroughly trained officer of the law. He carries a weapon, and knows how to use it when and if he has to. If he makes the job look easy, it's because he knows how to handle whatever comes along. I'd trust him with my life."
"I think Nell's asking if she can trust you with his."
"I've got a badge, I've got a weapon, and a solid right cross. That's how I handle things," Ripley said furiously. "If someone comes after Zack, you can bet your ass they'll have to go through me."
"One times three, Ripley." Deliberately, Mia laid a hand on her arm. "In the end, that's what it'll take."
"I'm not going to do it."
Mia nodded. They were standing in a circle under the angry sky. "You already are."
Instinctively, Ripley stepped back, broke the connection. "Don't look for me," she said. "Not this way." She turned her back on them and the rising wind and, kicking at the sand, she walked back to the village.
"She'll think about this, and struggle with it. As her head's made of granite, it's going to take longer than I like. But for the first time in years, she's wavering." Mia gave Nell a comforting pat on the shoulder. "She won't risk Zack."
They went back to the bookstore, and had no sooner stepped inside when the rain fell in a torrent.
***
Nell burned the candles in her trio of jack-o'-lanterns not just to decorate now, but for their original purpose. She set them on her porch to frighten away evil.
Between the knowledge gleaned from the books Mia had lent her and her own instincts, she set about making her cottage as safe a haven as she could manage.
She swept away negative energy, lit candles for tranquility and protection. She laid red jasper and small pots of sage on the windowsills and moonstones and sprigs of rosemary under the pillows on her bed.
She made a pot of chicken soup.
It simmered while the rain lashed, and her little cottage became a cozy cocoon.
But she couldn't relax in it. She paced from window to window, door to door. She looked for busy-work and couldn't find it. She forced herself to sit in her office, to complete a job proposal. But after ten minutes she was up again, her concentration as fractured as the lightning-struck sky.
Giving up, she called the station house. Surely Zack was back from the mainland by now. She would speak to him, hear his voice. Then she'd feel better.
But it was Ripley who answered and told her in a voice as cold as a slap that Zack hadn't returned, that he would be back when he got back.
Now her worry doubled. The storm took on the proportions of a tempest for her. The howl of the wind was no longer musical but full of teeth and threats.
The rain was a smothering curtain and the lightning a weapon hurled.
Dark pressed against the windows as if it would break the glass and burst in. The power she'd learned to accept, even to embrace, began to waver like a candle flame under hot breath.
A thousand scenarios raced through her mind, each more horrible than the last. In the end, unable to bear it, she grabbed her jacket. She would go down to the docks, wait for the ferry. Will him to come.
She wrenched open the door in a blast of lightning. In the blind dark that followed, she saw the shadow move toward her. She opened her mouth to scream, then through the scent of rain and wet earth and the sting of ozone, she caught the scent of her lover.
"Zack!" She leaped at him, nearly sending the two of them tumbling off the stoop as he caught both her and his balance. "I've been so worried."
"And now you're wet." He carried her into the house. "I picked a hell of a day to go off-island. Bitch of a ferry ride back." He set her on her feet, then stripped off his soaking jacket. "I'd've called, but I couldn't get my cell phone to connect. That'll be the last ferry coming or going tonight, in this weather."
He dragged a hand through his hair, scattered rain.
"You're soaked to the bone." And because his shirt was wet, she saw, with relief, the faint outline of the locket just above his heart. "And cold," she added when she took his hand.
"I've got to admit, I've been dreaming about a hot shower the last half hour."
And would have had one by now, he thought, if
Ripley hadn't met him at the front door, interrogated him, then told him Nell had called in a panic.
"Go take one now. Then you can have a bowl of hot soup."
"Definitely the best offer I've had all day." He cupped her face in his hands. "I'm sorry you worried. You shouldn't have."
"Now I'm not. Go on, before you catch cold."
"Islanders are hardier stock than that." But he kissed her lightly on the forehead and went straight for the shower.
He left his clothes in a sopping heap on the bathroom floor, turned the spray on hot, and let out a grateful sigh when he stepped in.
The little room, and the tub in it, hadn't been designed for a man of six-one. The nozzle was aimed straight at his throat, and if he wasn't careful he rapped his elbow against the wall whenever he moved his arms.
But he'd developed a routine during the time he'd been with Nell.
Bracing his hands on the front wall, he bent over so the spray sluiced over his head and back. Since she tended to use fragrant and feminine soaps and shampoos, he'd casually placed some of his own on the ledge above the lip of the tub.
Neither of them had mentioned these additions-or the change of clothing he'd left on the shelf of her closet.
They didn't talk about the fact that they rarely spent a night apart. Other people did, he knew. He saw the winks and was becoming accustomed to having his name and hers roll off people's tongues together as if they were one word.
But they hadn't spoken of it. Maybe it was a kind of superstition, he thought, not to speak out loud what you were most afraid to lose.
Or maybe it was just another kind of cowardice.
He wasn't sure it mattered, but he was sure it was time to take another step forward.
He'd taken one himself, the biggest step he'd ever taken, on the mainland that afternoon.
He had to admit he felt good about it. He'd felt a little jittery, but that had passed quickly enough. Even the hideous ride back from the mainland hadn't managed to dampen his mood.
The sounds on the other side of the curtain surprised him enough to make him move too quickly. The rap of his elbow against the wall echoed in the little room, and was followed, viciously, by a stream of curses.
"Are you all right?" Torn between amusement and sympathy, Nell pressed her lips together tight and kept his wet bundle of clothes crammed against her chest.
He wrenched off the spray and whipped the curtain back. "This room is a hazard. I've a good mind to check the code and... what are you doing with those?"
"Well, I-" She broke off, baffled when he all but leaped naked out of the tub and snatched them back from her. "I was just going to toss them in the dryer."
"I'll take care of it later. I've got a change around here." He dumped them on the floor again, ignoring her wince as they hit with a wet plop behind him.
"At least hang them up. They'll just mildew lying in a pile like that."
"Okay, okay." He grabbed a towel, ran it roughly over his hair. "Did you just come in here to pick up after me?"
"Actually, yes." Now her gaze traveled down, slowly, over the damp chest where her locket glittered, the flat belly, the narrow hips he swagged in the towel. "But right at the moment, I'm not thinking tidy."
"Is that so?" One look from her did more to warm his blood than an ocean of hot water. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking the very best thing to do with a man who has just come in from a storm is tuck him into bed. Come with me."
He let her take his hand and draw him through to the bedroom. "Are we going to play doctor? Because I think I could get really sick if it was worth my while."
She chuckled, then tossed back the quilt. "In."
"Yes, ma'am."
Before he could twitch off the towel, she did it for him. But when he grabbed for her, she evaded, then gave him a nudge onto the bed.
"You may know," she began and, picking up matches, walked around the room lighting candles, "that in lore and legend witches often served as healers."
Candlelight swayed, and it shimmered. "I'm starting to feel really healthy."
"I'll be the judge of that."
"I'm counting on it."
She turned to him. "Do you know what I've never done for anyone?"
"No, but I'm riveted."
She slowly lifted the hem of her sweater. She remembered the day she'd stood, poised like this, on the sunny back of his inlet.
"I want you to watch me." Inch by inch, she peeled the sweater up her body. "And want me."
If he'd been struck blind, he would have seen her, skin glowing in delicate light.
She slipped out of her shoes in a kind of graceful dance. Her simple white bra cut low and sweet over the subtle curve of her breasts. She lifted her hand to the center clasp, watched his eyes follow the move, then she deliberately left it fastened and trailed her fingertips down her midriff to the hook of her slacks.
His pulse began to thrum as the fabric slithered over her hips, down her legs. When it pooled at her feet, she stepped out with that same fluid ease.
"Why don't you let me do the rest?"
Her lips curved and she stepped closer, but not close enough. She'd never set out to seduce a man before, and wasn't ready to surrender the power.
She could imagine his hands on her as she ran her own up her body, as his breath rushed out of his lungs.
With that faint and knowing smile on her face, she flicked open her bra, let it slide away. Her breasts already felt full, and tender. She peeled the panties over her hips, stepped free of them. She was already wet.
"I want to take you," she whispered. "Slowly. I want you to take me." She eased onto the bed on hands and knees to straddle him. "Slowly." She seemed to melt over him. "As if there'll never be an end to it."
Her lips were warm and soft on his. Seeking. The taste of him slid through her system like a drug. When he rolled to take more, to deepen it, she went with him. But not in surrender.
She ran her fingertips lightly up and down his back, finding pleasure in the ridge of muscle, the ripple of it as she aroused him.
She let herself float on sensation as he gave her, and took from her, the gradual glide she'd demanded. Candlelight shifted, then the flames ran straight and true as spears and filled the air with fragrance.
They rose together, danced on that scented air. They knelt on the bed, centered on it, torso to torso and mouth to mouth.
If it was a spell, he'd have stayed bound eternally without question, without struggle. Witch or woman, a blend of both, she was his.
He watched the way his hand looked against her skin, dark to light, rough to fragile. The way her breasts could be cupped in his palms, and how the tips hardened under the brush of his thumb.
They touched, and tasted. A brush, a sip, a lazy caress, a long, slow drink.
When at last he slipped inside her, the gentle rise and fall was like waves of silk. Magic shimmered as they watched each other, as for each, for that moment, no one else existed. Beat to beat, with an intimacy that was more than mating, that abounded past needs and outraced passion.
It welled in her heart, overflowed in a spill like gold.
Her lips curved again as he lowered his mouth to hers. Their hands joined, fingers linking as they slid off the world together.
***
When she lay curled to his side, her palm over the steady beat of his heart, it seemed nothing could touch them. Her haven, she thought, was safe, as they were safe inside it.
All of her fears and worries, that creeping dread, seemed foolish now.
They were simply a man and a woman in love, lying in a warm bed and listening to the last of a storm pass overhead.
"I wonder if I'll ever learn how to manipulate objects."
"Honey, you manipulate just fine," he chuckled.
"No." She gave him a playful slap. "I mean moving things from one point to another. If I could, I'd chant the proper incantation and so on, and we'd have chicken soup in bed."
"It doesn't work like that. Does it?" he asked.
"I bet it does for Mia, if she wants it enough. But for lowly students such as me, it takes getting up, going into the kitchen and doing it all the old-fashioned way."
She turned her head to give his shoulder a pecking kiss, then rolled away.
"Why don't you stay here and I'll get the soup?"
She tossed a look over her shoulder as she walked to the closet for the robe she'd finally gotten around to buying. "Clever of you to suggest that after I was already up."
"I thought so. And since you caught me, I'll throw some clothes on and come out and give you a hand."
"Fine. Bring out that wet heap in the bathroom while you're at it."
Wet heap? It took him a minute to remember, so she was already out of the room when he leaped out of bed and snatched up his sodden pants from the floor. Digging in the pocket, he let out a breath as his fingers closed around a small box.
She had a round loaf of bread on a cutting board and was ladling up wide bowls of soup when he came in. She looked so pretty, so at home in her soft pink robe, he thought, her feet bare, her hair a little mussed.
"Nell, why don't we let that cool a minute?"
"We'll need to. Do you want some wine?"
"In a minute." Odd, he thought he'd be nervous, at least a little. Instead he was rock calm. He laid his hands on her shoulders, turned her, then ran them down to her elbows. "I love you, Nell."
"I-"
It was as far as she got before his lips silenced hers.
"I thought of different ways to do this. Taking you for a drive one night, or a walk on the beach next full moon. Or for a fancy dinner at the hotel. But this is the right way for us, the right place, and the right time."
The little flutter in her stomach was a warning. But she couldn't step back. She couldn't move at all.
"I thought of different ways to ask you, what words might suit best, and how I should say them. But the only ones that come to me right now are I love you, Nell. Marry me."
The breath that she had been holding released as joy and grief waged a helpless war inside her. "Zack. We've been together such a short time."
"We can wait a while to get married if you want, though I don't see the point in it."
"Why can't we just leave things the way they are?"
Of all the reactions he'd been expecting, the hitch of fear in her voice hadn't been among them. "Because we need a place of our own, a life of our own, not pieces of yours and mine."
"Marriage is just a legality. That's all." She turned away, reached blindly into the cupboard for glasses.
"For some people." He said it quietly. "Not for you or me. We're basic, Nell. When basic people fall in love, and mean it, they get married, start a family. I want to share my life with you, make children with you, grow old with you."
Tears threatened. Everything he said was what she wanted, so deep in her heart that it was into her soul. "You're moving too fast."
"I don't think so." He took the box from his pocket. "I bought this today because we've already started our life together, Nell. It's time to see where it takes us."
Her fingers curled into her palms as she looked down. He'd bought her a sapphire, a rich, warm stone set in a simple band of gold. He'd have known she would need warmth and simplicity.
Evan had chosen a diamond, a brilliant square in platinum that had sat on her finger like ice.
"I'm sorry. Zack, I'm so sorry. I can't marry you."
He felt the slice through his heart, but he never flinched as he watched her face. "Do you love me, Nell?"
"Yes."
"Then I deserve to know why you won't make a promise to me, and take one from me."
"You're right." She struggled to steady herself. "I can't marry you, Zack, because I'm already married."
Nothing she could have said would have stunned him more. "Married? You're married! For God's sake, Nell, we've been together for months."
"I know." It wasn't just shock she saw now. It wasn't just anger. He stared at her as if she were a stranger. "I left him, you see. More than a year ago."
He struggled over the first hurdle. The fact that she'd been married and hadn't told him. But he couldn't make it over the second. That she was married still.
"Left him, but didn't divorce him."
"No, I couldn't. I-"
"And you let me touch you, you slept with me, let me fall in love with you, knowing you weren't free."
"Yes." It was so cold, suddenly so cold in the little kitchen that it penetrated her bones. "I don't have any excuses for it."
"I won't ask when you were planning to tell me. Obviously you weren't." He closed the box with a snap, jammed it back in his pocket. "I don't sleep with other men's wives, Nell. A word from you, one goddamn word from you, and we wouldn't have gotten to this point."
"I know. It's my fault." As his anger grew, hardened his face, she felt the strength she'd rebuilt draining away like the color in her cheeks.
"You think that makes up for it?" he shot back, as temper and misery careened inside him. "You think taking the blame for it cleans the fucking slate on this?"
"No."
"Goddamn it." He spun away from her and caught the way she flinched at the move. "I'll yell when I need to yell. You're only making me madder standing there like you're waiting for a punch. I'm not going to hit you. Not now, not ever. And it's insulting for you to stand there wondering if I will."
"You don't know what it's like."
"No, I don't, because you won't tell me." He reined himself in as much as he could, though temper was still sparking. "Or you tell me just enough to keep things running smooth until the next time."
"Maybe that's true. But I told you I couldn't tell you everything. That I wasn't going to go into the details."
"This isn't a damn detail. You're still married to the man who did this to you."
"Yes."
"Are you planning on ending the marriage?"
"No."
"Well, that's plain enough." He snatched up his boots, his jacket.
"I can't let him find out where I am. I can't let him find me."
He started to yank the door open, then stood there a moment, his hand on the knob. "Did you ever stop and think, just once did you ever stop and look at me and know I'd do whatever needed to be done for you? I'd have done it, Nell, for a stranger, because it's my job. How could you not know I'd do it for you?"
She did know, she thought as he walked away from her. It was only one of the things that frightened her. Unable to cry, she sat miserably in the house she had made safe, and empty.