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was gone so fast she wondered if she d imagined it.
 Ignore the gossip, he said.  It blows over and they
move on to the next thing. I ve been there, too.
Oh, really?  I already know how to ignore gossip,
Van. I ve been doing it for a long time. But this is my
home. My neighbors were taking pictures with their
cell phones tonight, for God s sake. It wasn t
supposed to be like this. I m surprised a news crew
didn t show up.
 Did you really believe people in Creek Ridge
weren t keeping tabs on your life?
Rowena began to pace the room.  I don t know
what I believed.
 You re a celebrity, whether you want to accept
that or not. You were on the front page of every rag
mag each time Brett Fontaine decided to get some on
the side.
 You won t be so flippant about it when your
picture is in Celebrity next week.
 Flippant? Is that what I m being? You think I m
not upset to see you hurting like this? What do you
imagine this night meant to me, Rowena?
She didn t want to answer the question. The
desperation in his voice was tearing her apart.
 Answer me. What do you think our lovemaking
meant to me?
 I don t know.
He ran a hand through his hair, rose from the
bed, walked the perimeter of the room once, and
flopped back down on the bed.  Jesus. I don t even
know how to respond to that. You re never going to
believe I ve changed, are you?
 I didn t say that.
 Then what the hell are you saying? It s not
coming through. Help me here.
 You didn t tell me Trace Coleman drove past my
house, or that Jason and Darrell found that lockbox.
 What?
 You should have told me right away about both
things.
 Rowena, I m not talking about that fucking
ghost hunter or my crew. I m talking about you and
me.
 This is about you and me. I don t appreciate
your taking that situation into your own hands.
 What should I have done? Should I have ruined
your dinner with Toni and Roger to tell you about
Trace and the box? I didn t think you were in the best
emotional state that evening to deal with more bad
news.
She stomped across the room and stood in front
of him.  That wasn t your decision to make.
He held up his hands.  OK, OK. You re
absolutely right. I was trying to protect you. I m
sorry. I should have said something. But while we re
on the subject of honesty, why didn t you tell me you
still heard the noises at night, or that someone was
making prank phone calls on Aunt Loony s
landline?
 I didn t want to worry you.
He didn t have to say it. She d done the exact
same thing, tried to protect him.  I m sorry, Van. I
should have told you.
 This is ridiculous. I can t even figure out what
we re arguing about.
 Neither can I.
He slumped forward and put his face in his
hands.  We re both tired. Want me to leave so you
can get some sleep?
The air was suddenly heavy with unspoken
questions. She didn t want to be alone in the house
tonight, but she couldn t lie next to him while images
of his face plastered on the cover of a magazine
floated through her mind. When that happened he d
run. Better to end this now before she did something
stupid like fall for him.
Too late.
He rose from the bed.  Tell you what. I ll stay,
because I don t think you should be alone tonight, but
I ll crash in another bedroom, OK?
She nodded. If she spoke right now her voice
would betray her.
He closed her bedroom door softly as he left,
which was somehow worse than if he d slammed it.
Only when she heard him close the door to Aunt
Loony s bedroom across the hall did she finally let the
tears come, crying into her pillow to muffle the sobs.
* * *
Rowena woke Saturday to the sound of Snowball
meowing and scratching at the door. Bright light
streamed in through the windows. What time was it?
She opened the door to let Snowball out then glanced
at the alarm clock. It was nearly noon. She hadn t
slept so late in years.
She padded across the hall but knew Van was
gone before she poked her head into Aunt Loony s
room. The scent of lilacs now mixed with Van s smell,
making her heart ache. She pulled back the comforter,
exposing a soft indent on one side of the sheet, the
only evidence he d been there. The air felt empty, sad
without him. But in the clarity of daylight she knew if
they continued to see each other he d end up getting
hurt. Her neighbors snapping cell phone pictures last
night was all the confirmation she needed.
So why did she feel so miserable? Why didn t she
feel noble or strong, filled with the courage of her
convictions?
Downstairs the oily smell still hung in the air, but
only in the dining room. Someone had closed the
windows, so she flung them open. After living in LA
for ten years she wanted to enjoy the fresh, clean
scent of spring weather Ohio offered.
She walked through the entire downstairs,
opening windows and searching for a note. Nothing.
He hadn t used her espresso maker, and there was no
evidence he d made himself something to eat. The
only physical proof he d been here last night was the
stuffed snow leopard, still perched on the chair where
she d placed it before she and Van went up to the
tower to watch the fireworks.
Snowball jumped onto the kitchen table and
craned her neck to sniff the snow leopard. Rowena
reached over to scratch her cat under the chin.  Don t
you worry, girl. That cat is fake. She can t replace you
in my heart.
At least she d have the memory of last night. No
one could take that away from her. Not Becca or
Tiffany or any of her neighbors and their damn cell
phones. One perfect evening and an incredible few
hours in Van s arms were hers to keep and cherish
forever.
After showering and drinking more coffee than
she probably needed, she checked her e-mail and
voice mail, just in case. Nothing. She made herself a
sandwich and went upstairs to tackle the two
bedrooms she d started to clean out on Friday.
* * *
Van woke Saturday afternoon and couldn t [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]