Crazy for You (24 page)

The words were there, on the tip of her
tongue, but she couldn’t retrieve them.

I don’t love you, Andrew.

I don’t, she wanted to cry out. But they
stuck in her mouth like wallpaper paste. Her tongue was dry,
numbing her ability to speak. And she wanted more than anything to
say the words to him. She knew it would cause him momentary
misery—but it was better than ruining his life.

But she couldn’t do it. It was a lie. She did
love him.

Tears spilled onto her cheeks. Finally,
tossing her head back out of his grasp, she leaned into the door.
Breathing heavily, she stared at him for another moment.

“Give it some time, Tasha,” he breathed. “I’m
begging you, give us some time. I’ll leave you alone, all day if
you want. I’ll sleep on the roll-away tonight and you can think on
everything I’ve said. Everything you’ve said. Then tomorrow, we can
discuss this rationally. Please, Tasha. Don’t give up on us before
you’ve had time to think it through. Give it one more day.
Please.”

Tasha searched his pleading face. She didn’t
have the heart to hurt him any further. She couldn’t. Gathering up
her sheet, she stepped back into the room, her gaze keeping in line
with his as she neared the bed. At the last minute, she broke away,
laid down on the bed, curled up into a fetal position and closed
her eyes.

“All right,” she whispered. “I’ll give it one
more day.”

****

Throughout the remainder of the day and
night, Andrew planned his strategy. Time. She needed time to adjust
to all this. So, he would give it to her.

Sometime after midnight, as he lay in bed, he
recalled her frightened and confused face and realized that it had
been too much, too soon. He shouldn’t have thrust all of his ideas
upon her like that. It would be a major adjustment, and perhaps,
she just wasn’t up to it yet.

Time. She needed time. That was the key.

So, he gave her the day. He’d give her the
night, too. He’d use the time to mentally make some plans, but come
morning, their last day together, he had a lot of other work to do.
He had to work on her.

There was no way they were going to leave
this place without making some sort of game plan. He wouldn’t allow
that to happen.

Mainly because of one simple factor.

She couldn’t say that she didn’t love
him.

And tomorrow, he was all set to prove to her
that she did love him. His heart pounded at the thought of hearing
her say the words.

There was no way he was going to live the
rest of his life without her. And whether she believed him or not,
he would do whatever it took. Moving. Finding another job. Eating
her damned tofu. He would do it.

He loved her that much.

Thirty

Departing Eden II, The Club Regale
Resort

The tail end of a gauzy curtain whipped
against Andrew’s face, waking him. The cool breeze was welcome. The
past few days and nights had been so hot. As he groggily turned in
the roll-away he heard the slow knock on the door. Glancing to his
right, he searched the double bed for Tasha’s form beneath the
covers, wondering if she would get up to answer it.

He saw nothing.

The knock persisted.

Puzzled, Andrew got up and made his way
toward the door, still eyeing the unmade bed. He glanced to the
door of the bathroom, which stood ajar. It was dark beyond. She
wasn’t in there.

Maybe she’d taken an early walk.

Andrew pulled open the door and faced a
smiling Josh.

“Came to tell you the bus strike is over. The
next bus out leaves in an hour.”

Andrew stared at him. Four days ago he could
have kissed Josh directly on the lips. Now, he didn’t feel the
least bit ecstatic. He reached out and shook the man’s hand.
“Thanks, Josh. Thought I’d never hear those words.”

“Just thought you’d want to know.”

“Appreciate it, man.” Andrew glanced back
again at the empty bed. Where was Tasha?

Turning back, he scratched his head and
looked into Josh’s eyes. “You didn’t happen to see Tasha out there
anywhere this morning, did you?”

Josh eyed him. “I did.”

Andrew sighed. “Meditating with Samuel
again?”

He shook his head.

“Must have taken an early walk then.”

Josh still stared blankly at him.

A slice of panic gripped Andrew’s heart.
“Where did you see her, Josh?”

After clearing his throat and glancing
quickly to the ground, he replied, “She left on the first bus,
early this morning.”

Andrew stepped back to contemplate that
statement.

“Excuse me? Left? You mean, on the bus?” He
was trying not to panic.

Josh nodded his head and looked dead-on into
Andrew’s eyes. “Yes. She left. Gone. Vamoosed. Got the hell out of
Dodge. Had her bags with her and high-tailed her little fanny outta
here. And she looked in a mighty big hurry, to boot.”

Stunned, all Andrew could do stare
dumbfounded back into Josh’s face, then in an instant his heart
swelled, filled with something he could barely define, and thought
it would burst.

Fear. That was it. He was scared to death. He
couldn’t breathe. An ache so deep and intense it nearly knocked him
off his feet.

Tasha was gone? No!

Rapidly turning about, he searched the
suddenly stifling room. The room was small, there was no place to
hide anything. He went to the one closet and thrust open the
door.

Empty.

His eyes searched; his mind reeled in
thought. No backpack. No carry-on.

No Tasha.

Frantic now, he twirled about him, looking.
For anything, anything at all that might give him a clue. Something
concrete. How could he have been so stupid?

Clues. He needed clues.

He didn’t know the name of the town she lived
in, did he?

What was the name of her shop?

Her parents. He couldn’t very well look up
Zeus and Violet Rainbow in the phone book, could he? And how many
damn Smiths, T. would there be in the whole damn state of Colorado
anyway? Or would it be Smith, M.?

My God? How was he going to find her?

Andrew fell flat against the bed and dragged
his hands over his face in defeat. No. He would not give up. He
loved her, dammit. And she loved him. He would find her. He
would.

Wearily, he sat up and glanced to his left at
the bedside table, and there he saw it. A piece of resort
stationary folded in half like a tent, leaning against the lamp.
His name was scribbled across the front.

Finally taking a deep breath, he picked it
up. The chatter in his brain fell silent. With his forefinger, he
unfolded the note.

Dear Andrew...

Thirty-one

Eden II, Negril, Montego Bay, Miami, Dallas,
Denver…

Coward.

The word had echoed and bounced inside her
brain since she’d stole away from the resort in the middle of the
night. She’d waited in the lobby for almost two hours, thinking
she’d be there to bum a ride from someone very early in the
morning, then a bus magically appeared and she was informed of the
ending strike.

She’d given Andrew what he wanted. One more
day. He’d left her alone; she’d found out later he’d spent the day
at the beach, sunning and thinking, he’d told her. Making plans,
was more like it. It seemed like Andrew was getting all his ducks
in a row. They were cordial to each other at night. Each had gone
to their separate beds and quietly told the other goodnight.

And Tasha had laid quiet and still until she
heard Andrew’s even breathing. When he was deeply asleep, it was
simple enough to slip her backpack from underneath the bed and
escape.

Even though it pained her heart to do so.

And with each rotation of the bus’s wheels,
taking her further away from Andrew, the words screamed out at
her.

Coward! Coward!

And she knew that she was.

She’d breathed one huge sigh of relief when
she’d boarded the plane in Montego Bay without any interference
from Andrew. The remainder of the trip, from Miami to Dallas, and
then Dallas to Denver, she managed to sleep—somewhat. And now, as
she rolled down the window on the driver’s side of her old Toyota
pick-up truck to pay her long-term parking bill at the airport, she
heard the words again.

Coward.

She’d cried nearly the whole trip home. Every
time she closed her eyes, she saw him. Everything she touched
reminded her of him. And with every mile further she drew away from
him, she felt her heart fall a little closer to the ground.

She felt separated. Disjointed. Like she’d
been taken apart at the seams. Like one half of a whole.

She felt like a part of her soul was
missing.

But she’d had to do it. She’d had to leave
Andrew. There was no other way. The break had to be clean and
quick. For she knew if she held on any longer, she might not be
able to do it.

Thirty-two

Pinebow Springs, Colorado

“Mark’s on the phone again.” Violet covered
the mouthpiece of the receiver with the palm of her hand as she
whispered the words to Tasha. She’d only been home three days, but
Mark had called at least twice each day. It didn’t take long for
news to get around this small town. Her mother thrust the device
toward Tasha. “Talk to him,” she urged.

Tasha met her mother’s gaze, then quickly
shook her head. Turning her back to her mother, she stepped across
the shop and headed toward a case of Indiana cantaloupe she’d just
had shipped in. She heard her mother’s exasperated sigh then her
muffled reply to Mark.

God, I’m gutless.

The receiver clicked in the cradle.

“Moontasha. That’s the last time I’m going to
do that.”

Tasha fumbled through the melons, hearing
every word her mother said, but acting as if she didn’t.

Her mother was not to be ignored this time,
though. Stepping up beside her, she stilled Tasha’s hands and
pulled them to her. Tasha finally looked her mother in the face as
she turned.

“Do you understand what I’m saying? That boy
is hurting. You owe him to speak to him. You have to be able to
explain what happened, why you called off the wedding. Tasha, I
never thought you a coward before, but you’re acting pretty much
that. You’ve got to snap out of it and face the music, honey!”

Tasha sucked in a deep breath and held it for
a moment as she looked off to the right. Couldn’t her mother see
that there was so much more than just Mark she had to deal with
here? Couldn’t she see that she was hurting as well?

In the next instant, she expelled the breath
and her eyes misted over. “I know I hurt him, Mama.” She choked
back the tears. “But I can’t talk to him yet. I’ve got some other
things to deal with. I just can’t seem to get it together.”

“But I thought you went to that resort to get
yourself together so you could talk to Mark. What happened? Why
haven’t you done that yet?”

Tasha met her mother’s gaze again as tears
slipped over her lower lids. She watched a flash of recognition
cross her mother’s face and Tasha knew her mother was somehow
figuring things out. She’d avoided talking to her about the trip
and about Andrew because it was just too soon. She wasn’t ready to
analyze what had happened between them just yet. But her mother was
just too damn perceptive. She’d never been able to keep secrets
from her. Never.

“You met someone.”

After a moment, Tasha nodded.

“And you feel guilty after leaving Mark just
a short time ago.”

Tasha nodded again.

“Are you in love with him?”

Closing her eyes, Tasha responded, “Yes.”

“And you don’t know how you’re going to tell
Mark. You fled your own wedding six weeks earlier to a man you’ve
cared about since you were a child, and now, a short time later,
you’ve fallen in love with someone else. Are you in the least
concerned how Mark is going to take this?”

Opening her eyes to peer into her mother’s
face, Tasha held her breath a moment before answering. She shook
her head. “No,” she replied softly. “I’m not worried about how Mark
is going to take this. Mark will never know.”

“Tasha that’s cruel.” Her mother’s tone was
rising. She almost never raised her voice to her. “Mark deserves to
know that you’ve fallen in love with another man, Tasha. He
deserves to know the truth.”

“No, he doesn’t, Mama. Mark will never know
because I’m never going to see Andrew again. I love him, but I’m
never going to see him again. I’m not going to hurt Mark any
more.”

At the surprised look on her mother’s face,
Tasha stepped away and headed for the back room of the shop. Right
now, she didn’t feel like disappointing another person in her life.
She’d disappointed too many already. Including herself.

Thirty-three

Seattle

“Damned necktie.”

Andrew ripped it from his shirt color and
tossed the lavender and lime green striped scrap of fabric at the
passenger seat of his car. Ever since he’d left Jamaica, the damned
things seemed to grip his throat like a noose around his neck.

Sighing, he raked a hand through his hair and
glanced into the rearview mirror. He’d needed a haircut three weeks
ago. Stopping at a red light, he squinted into the mirror again.
Actually, he kind of liked the look. It wasn’t as rigid.

Someone honked behind him. Traffic raced
forward on either side. Andrew pressed the accelerator and glanced
at his appointment pad attached to the dashboard. He was late for
his three-thirty. Damn. He screeched to another halt as the light
turned red in front of him again.

Agitated, he drummed his fingers on the
steering wheel. The light changed and he lurched forward.
Three-forty-seven. His cell phone rang. Grasping it, he flipped the
switch.