Hide & Seek (7 page)

Tripp opened the screened frame for her and held it.

“That nice young man behind you can hold it, son. Anyone gets shot gets at least two weeks reprieve.”

Lexi’s gaze whipped to Tripp’s.

Ian took the door. “I will hold this door until I am told otherwise, ma’am.” Ian mocked Marge’s southern accent but her good-natured chuckle suggested she took no offense.

“Now, Mr. Fox—”

“Please, Ms. Fergs, call me Tripp, and my friend at the door is Ian.”

A tray of cookies, piled on small plates, and a pitcher of lemonade laid in wait on the counter. “Ian, won’t you come get this tray?”

“I can get it—” Lexi started, but Marge stopped her with a quiet stare. She sat at the table, motioned for Tripp and Lexi to follow.

Ian brought the tray over, a giant smile across his face. “You’re one demanding grandma,” he said. “Kinda like my own.”

“Don’t you know it.” She patted his hand, pulling him down into the chair next to hers. “So you want to buy my house?” Marge picked up a cup, held it out to Ian. He poured with a smile across his face. “You’re a good boy, Ian. Your friend there did right by you when you were kids.” She nodded to Tripp. “Silly candy bar.”

Tripp and Ian exchanged furtive glances and matching grins.

What does she know about Tripp and Ian?

“I appreciate the compliment, Mrs. Fergs,” Tripp said.

Ian set the pitcher down. He took a cookie from the plate for himself.

“Now about my house,” Marge started again. “Do you want it or not?”

“Well, I haven’t seen it yet—”

“Lexi has. Don’t you trust her?”

Please say ‘no’, then I’ll buy it no matter what.
Under the table, Lexi crossed her fingers.

Tripp turned to her. “Yeah, I trust her.”

Lexi widened her eyes without thought and forced them to normal.

“Like I told her already, I feel like I’ve known her—”

“Yet, you think you’ve just met her.” Marge smiled.

Think?

He shook his head, grinned. “Exactly. How—”

“You gonna do right by her?” George scraped a metal chair along the vinyl floor, plopping his heft onto the seat.

“I’m sorry?” Lexi blinked, switching her attention from Marge to George, thoughts of the house gone with the path of the conversation.

“Oh, honey.” Marge patted Lexi’s hand from across the table. “We’ve been waiting for this moment for thirty years—since the day you were born.”

George pounded his fist on the table’s end so the cookies jumped. “And it’s about damn time.”

8

“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Fergs, I don’t understand what’s going on.” Lexi’s pained expression and worried tone killed Tripp’s immediate excitement at Marge’s little announcement.

They know way more than we do.

“Oh, honey.” Marge patted Lexi’s hand like a grandmother who consoled her grandchild, but in a non-patronizing way. “George and I? We know all about your gifts.”

Tripp slid his hand under the table, took Lexi’s in his.

“What gifts?” she asked.

He squeezed as she wove their fingers together.

Marge’s smile reflected one of a child with her hand in the cookie jar and no one around to catch her—a similar look to one Tripp often sported. Though as an eleven year old, he’d stolen a candy bar, not a cookie. Worse, he’d stolen it from the first thief, Ian, who’d swiped it from the corner drug store. The one action had solidified their lifetime friendship.

“You’ve heard of Laelaps and the Teumessian Fox? Perhaps in a bedtime tale or two?” Marge slipped a cookie from the plate.

Tripp smiled as Lexi turned to him. “Yes, of course. The two are what created Zeus’s ultimate paradox,” he said.

“Exactly. And since you know I know, and I know you know, let’s move on.”

Lexi nodded, but small worry creases remained. “What does Tripp buying your house have to do with waiting for me since I was born or Zeus’s game?” Lexi’s hand flexed within his.

“Oh, humor an old lady if you will.” She covered her eyes like a child and peeked through two fingers.

Tripp leaned back in his chair, his hand still in Lexi’s. Her grip moved from shallow to tight.

“Oh, but that Zeus, he had the oddest sense of humor. Screwed up a right many times but thought it was good natured, nonetheless.” Marge chuckled—a raspy, old-lady sound. “You two are players in a game as old as the world itself. Actually, everyone has a bit of it in them, but for some …” Marge shook her head. “Well, it’s a little more problematic.”

Ian twisted toward Marge. “Now this, Grandma, I gotta hear. I’ve been telling Tripp for ages that someone, somewhere, knew more about this than him, but does he listen to me? Oh, no.”

She smiled, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and offered a quick squeeze and a pat on his shoulder. “You’re a good friend there, Ian. I’m glad you two paired up when you did.” She snatched another cookie, broke it and offered him half.

George grunted, reaching for his own sugary treat.

“You each were given a fantastic gift, but together, you’re like magnets with their polarization reversed. Because of that, most like you pass their lives without ever meeting—”

“Most?” Lexi sat up straight. “There are others?”

“Oh, honey, shush. I’m going to explain it to you.”

Lexi slunk back in the chair.

“Yes, there have been others.” She paused as if to wait for Lexi’s outburst. “Every once in a while, those magnets get close enough to swirl around each other, and then something comes along that pushes them right up to each other. But still, they never touch.”

She withdrew two round black magnets, each the size of a quarter and a centimeter thick, from her pocket and laid them on the table. As she pushed them together and let go, the force between them repelled them, though not far.

Marge beamed. “So, you see, sometimes there’s enough interest to get close but not touch.” She pushed them forward again.

They bounced back.

Her wrinkly, mangled fingers picked up one from the table and flipped it. With one quick nudge, the two pieces slid together.

“If you want this connection, you can have it.” Marge pointed to the magnets. “But, in this game, once bound, you’ll be inseparable no matter what you do.” She sandwiched her hands together.

Ian picked up the joined magnets. His grimace, as he tried to pry them apart, intrigued Tripp enough to make his own attempt. He failed, passed them on to Lexi.

“No luck.” Lexi dropped the conjoined magnets on the table.

“So this is a game?” Ian would be the one to ask. “How do they start?”

“It takes a strong will and the right timing,” Marge said.

“It took ya damn long enough.” George popped another lemon cookie into his mouth, his wobbly jowls crunching away.

Marge shook her head. “Don’t listen to George. He’s just impatient, is all. We thought we might get called back up before we had a chance to meet your young man, Lexi. Though we’ve known from the moment we met you.”

“Called back up?” Ian’s eyebrow tweaked up.

“Ascension to the spiritual realm?” She waved him off. “We are mighty old, you know.”

Lexi shook her head.

Tripp took her action as more confusion. “If this was something we wanted—I mean, to flip these presupposed magnets, Mrs. Fergs, how would we … do it?”

“Oh, honey, call me Marge. You and Lexi here, you’ve had time to find one another, figure out what you each have, and learn there’s an interest. Now, like those magnets, it’s your chance to find a way to reverse the effects—to demagnetize them so to speak.”

Tripp leaned forward. “How?”

Marge patted his hand. “I can’t tell you exactly since, just like in every game, the rules can change as you go along.” She picked up the combined piece, split them with ease. “But in this, it’s different. You aren’t the first to play, nor will you be the last. You just have to find … oh, what do you call that liquid that sticks to everything and won’t let go?”

“Superglue,” Ian said.

Marge patted his hand. “Yes, that. It’s a binding factor. But not in a literal sense, mind you.” She put the two pieces back together and balanced them on an upright edge. “When you decide you want this … truly … and you mean it deep down inside …” She patted her chest. “Then you’ll know what to do. You take care of love or you lose it, right?”

George grunted a
humph
. “Didn’t take so much effort for us—”

Marge hushed him with a wave of her hand. “If you want this—” She wagged her finger back and forth between Tripp and Lexi. “—you can’t let what you believe change your mind.”

George snatched another cookie. “Eventually, one moment will bring you both together. Could be tomorrow or years from now.”

“This sounds like a reality show in the making.” Ian’s smile brought one to Tripp’s face.

“What’re the rules? I mean, if they can change?” Tripp worked well with guidelines, even if he went outside of them on a regular basis.

Marge’s expression hinted at mischievousness. “The only real rule is that you
both
must want it.” She spun the pieces on end. “If you’re not ready, well, you do still have time. Like the stars in the skies, those magnets will just hover out there indefinitely. Every once in a while, they do wink out—as if they stopped …
trying
.” The two pieces split and pushed away from each other as if they’d been pulled by opposing forces. “I’d be so very disappointed if you weren’t ready.”

“Oh, they are.” Ian rapped a fist on the table. “Tripp can’t give up a challenge, no way, no how. It’s the game of the century.”

Ian held up a hand. “How do they know when it’s over?”

Marge drew Ian in for another quick hug. “Oh, dear, you will be such a great cheerleader. When the theoretical magnets are bound, it’s done.” Her eyes sparkled as she picked up a piece, held it up as if to look through the solid surface. “You can keep these as reminders.” She handed one first to Tripp, the other to Lexi.

As if commanded, they tried to force them together, but no matter which way they turned them, the magnets split apart again.

George scraped his chair back. “Now get off your duffs—” He pointed crossed fingers to Lexi and Tripp. “—lock some lips, and buy my house.”

“Huh?” Tripp and Lexi said it at the same time.

“Oh, dear, George. Don’t push them. That only worked on me.” The look Marge passed to George said she wouldn’t give up on him no matter the number of cookies he ate or how gruff he managed to get. “The pull is strong for you two. More than I’ve ever felt. You’re made for each other. Ian?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Would you help me to my recliner? I want a more comfortable chair, need to prop my feet up, and you can come watch Jeopardy with me.”

Ian held Marge’s hand, walking her into the other room.

“I assume you brought paperwork with you, Lexi?” Marge asked from the other room.

“No, but I did.” Emma, the complete opposite of Lexi, walked into the kitchen. Tripp recognized her by way of description from the hospital staff and pictures at the Wise Woman office.

“Good. Come on in here young lady. We’re leaving for Alaska tomorrow and need to get our acts together.”

• • •

“They’re moving to Alaska tomorrow? And they’re us like a zillion years ago, aren’t they?” Lexi heard the whine in her voice. “What if we’ve got questions? Did she give us any answers? What do we need to do to start? I mean, do we say ‘we’re ready to see what happens, hope it all goes well’? Yes, so I’m attracted to you. Yeah, I was going to go talk with you, but does that mean a lifetime—”

Tripp cut her off with the crush of his mouth to hers. His good hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her forward as her arms hung limp at her side.

“Not good enough!” Marge’s voice broke through as their lips separated.

“You gotta do it right, boy. With yer—”

“George, hush. Cover your ears, Ian. You too, Emma.” Laughter came from them all.

“Let’s go outside where we’ll have at least ten feet of privacy,” Tripp said.

The porch groaned as Lexi tread upon its planks. Wind blew as if a summer storm brewed and a patch of gray clouds hung over the house, but the rain hadn’t started.

Tripp drew her into his arms again under the cover of the porch roof. Her hands went straight back to his chest. “I told you the first time I saw you, Lexi, that I felt like I knew you and at the time, I didn’t even know your name … Karen.”

Lexi dropped her gaze, keeping her hands against his chest but her head away from him. “And I told you to marry your girl.”

“And yet we’re here. Together. An inch apart. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting the feeling we’re supposed to be here.”

“Given George and Marge told us so? Great deductive reasoning.” She slapped his chest with little force, smiling despite the inner war between head and heart.

Tripp stepped back a little. “What’ve you got to lose? As I understand it, you aren’t involved with anyone.”

“But you’re—”

“No. I’m here because I want … to be.”

“What about your business?”

“I can do that from anywhere. I felt compelled, drawn if you will, to come down here. Every moment in New York I was dying to pick up and leave, but I had to wait, thanks to my damn arm. Then, I looked out on the cityscape and got overwhelmed.”

“We don’t even know one another.”

“Gotta start somewhere.” He held out his hand as if she should shake it, make a deal and all would be well. “Don’t you think it’s our responsibility to try?”

Lexi bridged the gap he’d created.

Tripp leaned his head down toward hers. “We have no idea where this could lead us. It might be dangerous, exciting—”

“Or totally boring,” Lexi said. “Or—”

He laid his lips against hers—soft, gentle—keeping his hands at his side. As he pressed forward, Lexi fell into the kiss. Her hands slid up his chest, careful to avoid his arm. She snaked her hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down as their tongues sought each other.

A bolt of lightning cracked the sky.

Lexi jumped back from Tripp.

“Do it again.” He urged her back against him.

“Do what? That was coincidental. A storm’s coming.”

“I don’t think so.” One side of his mouth curled. “Kiss me.”

Lexi’s brow arched. She stepped back to Tripp, drew his head forward and rained kisses from one side of his lips to the other, spreading them with her tongue.

Lightning flashed again. A crash reverberated from above the porch, and a shower of sparks rained around them.

Their lips continued to play.

Another slash in the sky brought more pinpoints of light.

“Now,
that’s
how you kiss a girl.” George’s voice came through with perfect clarity.

“’Cept I kissed you,” Lexi whispered at his lips.

“He doesn’t have to know.” Tripp laid one more small touch to the edge of her mouth. “You taste like lemon cookie.”

She swiped her tongue across his lips. “So do you.” Lexi laid a hand on his chest. “If this is a game and our abilities are a part of it, how are we ever going to get around the biggest issue? Relationships never work for me—”

“Because you were always looking at the wrong one.” Tripp added another soft kiss to her lips. “I think—and this is me trying to figure this out in my mind—if they’re together, and they know what it takes, then a loophole in the myth has to exist.”

“Zeus made the dog and the fox, Tripp. He set it so it was the ultimate paradox. How can there possibly be a loophole?”

“He also sent them into the sky to stop the cycle, thus ending the paradox—or perhaps in his mind, solving it himself.” He smiled down at Lexi. “I believe an end is possible. Like her little magnet analogy. I mean, how could two old geezers know all about it if they didn’t already go through it?”

“Maybe they just know … stuff?” Lexi didn’t even believe her own alternative suggestion.

Tripp shook his head. “No. They’re bound like those magnets. I can see it. They’re clearly still in love, too, after however long it’s been. There’s a way to make it work, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want to at least know how.”

Lexi read the challenge in his eyes. When he found the answer, would the look be gone? Or would she get to see it for the rest of her life?

“Maybe you find it, and I steal it?” The smirk at least told her he joked.

Lexi narrowed her eyes. “I’m not breaking into anyone’s house or doing anything illegal.”

Tripp’s grin grew. “Of course not … honey.” He patted her on the arm.

“Smartass. Let’s go in and start the game, then.”

“Do I get to count to ten first?”

Lexi couldn’t help the smile. “I think that would be my job.”