Leave Yesterday Behind (20 page)

Chapter 27

Nick examined Callie nestled against him, her face burrowed against his heart. He gently stroked her hair, not wanting to disturb her sleep. She’d lain awake a long time in his arms last night. He knew she missed Wolf and was still worried about the threat against both of them. They’d spoken little, but he knew it had been after two before she’d fallen asleep.

He eased from the bed and brought the covers back over her. Miz C liked her air conditioning strong, and the vent blew directly across the bed. His throat was dry because of it, and he wanted a drink of water. He moved quietly across the hardwood floor and slipped into the bathroom. He closed the door before flicking on the light.

Just then, a song began chirping loudly from Callie’s cell phone sitting on the counter. He quickly answered it, hoping the ringing hadn’t awakened her.

“Hello?” he said softly.

Silence greeted him, followed by a throaty female laugh.

“Well, I know I don’t have a wrong number because I’ve got Callie on speed dial. I’m just surprised that she’s not the one answering. Or maybe I’m not after that cryptic message she left me yesterday.”

“Uh . . . Callie’s sleeping right now. Can I have her call you back?”

Again, the amused laugh. “Just tell me one thing. Are you a homegrown boy?”

Nick didn’t know what to say to that—or whom he would be saying it to. “I guess you might say that,” he said warily.

A sudden tapping on the door startled him. He yanked open the door to see Callie standing there. With his cell phone in her hand.

“It’s your mom,” she said dryly. “I gather that’s for me?”

“Shit.” He rolled his eyes and then spoke into the phone. “Here’s Callie.” He passed her phone over and took his cell from her.

“Hey, Mom.”

“The bright and sunny routine doesn’t cut it. You’re usually grumpy before your first cup of coffee. And I have a feeling if we were in the same room, I wouldn’t be smelling any coffee on your breath.”

Nick crossed to the chair and sat down. He noticed Callie had closed the bathroom door behind her. He ran a hand through his hair.

“Okay. It’s like this. I’m sorry I didn’t call to see how Branson was. There’s just a lot happening. A lot, Mom. I really need to see you today to talk about it.” He took a deep breath. “And there’s someone I want you to meet.”

His mother chuckled. Nick relaxed a little bit.

“Eric told Olivia and me some of what’s going on. However, it did surprise me that I’d leave town and return after only a week to find my baby involved with someone who would be answering his phone at seven in the morning.”

He felt the heat rise up his neck. He felt like a sixteen-year-old caught necking in the driveway after he thought his mom had gone to bed.

“It’s not like that. Well, it sort of is. I mean, we haven’t even slept together yet. Well, we actually did the last two nights, but that’s only because this psycho is after Callie, and there’s no way I would ever leave her alone. I even make her lock the door when she goes to the bathroom.”

Nick took a deep breath. “Mom. I know I sound crazy and confused, but I love her. She doesn’t take shit off me, and she’s smart and funny and sweet and talented. You’re going to love her.”

Without any hesitation, he heard, “So do you two want to come over for breakfast?”

He laughed. “Mom, you are the greatest. And your French toast would be terrific. Callie needs a little fattening up. How about an hour?”

“I’ll see you both then. Bye, sweetie.”

He ended the call and shook his head. A moment later, Callie came out doing the same thing.

“My best friend Beth is dying to meet you. She said you sounded sexy as hell. And she actually knows who you are. Her husband is Mr. Sports Central. She’s picked up quite a bit since they’ve been married. She can spout ERA’s and MVP’s like there’s no tomorrow.”

He laughed. “We’re having breakfast with my mom in an hour. Think you can handle that?”

Callie frowned. “Can we make it an hour and a half? I need to do some stretching with Gretchen before I hit the shower. We did a lot of moving around NOLA yesterday. I’m pretty stiff and don’t want to skimp on my exercises.”

He went and nuzzled her neck. “I know, no morning breath kisses. But I just had to have me some sugar.”

She laughed. “You sound like a dirty old uncle.” She nipped him on the neck, too. “Now, go shower. I’ll get Gretchen to help me run through a few things.”

Nick watched her open the bedroom door and cross the hall. She knocked and then stepped into Gretchen’s room, closing the door behind her. He called his mom back and told her they’d be a little later than planned.

And turned crimson when she laughed.

Callie fiddled with the slender gold chain around her neck as Nick drove into town.

What if his mom didn’t like her? She’d sure sounded surprised to hear a woman answer his phone. Her face flamed again with embarrassment, thinking that Aunt C would have been mortified if put in the same position.

Nick reached across and pulled her hand toward him, grazing his lips across her knuckles. “Relax. Mom’s very cool. Sweet but up front. She will love you. I know it.”

She swallowed. Her throat was desert dry. She started to lick her lips, but she didn’t want to mess up her lip gloss. She wanted to make a good impression on Nick’s mom after such a dismal start.

He turned onto a cul-de-sac and into a driveway. She noted the patrol car following them parked directly across the street. She couldn’t think about that now. The stalker. The cops shadowing her. She had enough to be nervous about with meeting her future mother-in-law.

Callie examined the charming ranch house. An oasis of colorful flowers flooded the front beds and surrounded two oak trees on both sides of the yard. White wicker chairs graced the wraparound porch.

Nick came around and opened her door. “You look great. You are great.” He leaned down to kiss her.

“Don’t,” she warned. “The last thing I need is a messy mouth when I meet your mom.”

He grinned and his lips grazed her cheek instead. “Then promise me I can mess with you later.” He took her hand, interlaced his fingers with hers, and walked her up to the front porch. The door opened immediately.

The petite woman standing there appeared nothing like Nick. She was blond with hazel eyes and an outdoor tan. But her eyes sparkled, full of energy and mischief. That part she definitely passed along to her son.

“Hey, Mom.” Nick leaned down and pecked her cheek. He pulled her up a step. “This is Callie Chennault.”

Callie smiled, drawing on Jessica’s confidence in any social situation. “Hello, Mrs. La Chappelle. It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Please. Call me Maggie.” She took Callie’s hands in hers. “Go on in, Nick. Olivia’s waiting in the kitchen. She’s cooked enough to feed an army.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you’ll be . . .?”

“Doing the girl talk thing over OJ or hot tea. Callie’s choice. Now scoot.”

Nick shrugged. “Don’t be mad if nothing’s left.” He walked into the house and closed the door behind him.

Maggie indicated they sit. Callie eased into a chair, her butterfly production in full swing.

“What would you like to drink?”

“Tea would be nice. Thank you.” She watched as Mrs. La Chappelle poured hot water from a carafe into an elegant china cup. Callie opened a packet of Earl Grey and dipped the teabag into the cup. The motion soothed her somewhat.

“I would tell you I’m a fan, but I’ve never watched soaps,” Nick’s mother said matter-of-factly as she poured herself a glass of juice. “But my sister Olivia is mad for
Sumner Falls
and thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread. And she said you were Pam’s best friend during your teen years. You definitely have her stamp of approval.”

Maggie paused and sized her up. Callie found herself swallowing nervously, dunking her teabag like a maniac. She was afraid to speak. Afraid she’d say the wrong thing. She didn’t realize how much she wanted this woman’s approval till now.

“Nick is my only child.” Maggie’s voice softened as she began to speak. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him. We’ve always been close. His daddy traveled quite a bit, and we found we enjoyed each other’s company.”

His mother took a sip of her orange juice, then continued. “Nick has had a lot of professional success, but he’s experienced very little of that personally, beyond his novels picking up and selling well. He thinks he’s a rock and that he doesn’t need anyone.” Her level gaze caused Callie to pause dunking her teabag, in mid-air.

“But he’s been lonely. So lonely. And now I come home after barely a week away, and he has a spring in his step and the humor back in his voice. His smile is reaching his eyes for the first time in a long time. I can see how happy he is.”

Maggie leaned over and took her hand. “If you’ve done all that for him in less than a week, then you have my blessing to hang around as long as you want.” She frowned. “Just don’t hurt him, Callie. If you aren’t serious about having a relationship with him, tell him and move on. Let him go now before it hurts too much.”

She squeezed Maggie’s hand. “I’m not perfect, but I will tell you this. I never knew I could admire a man as much as I do Nick. In a few short days, he’s become my world. If anything, I’d be the one to fall apart if he left. I plan to be rocking next to him in the old folks’ home seventy years from now, ma’am. Looking for love was the last thing on my mind when I arrived in Aurora. It hit me clear out of the blue, like a shock of lightning. I know in my heart that Nick is the best thing that will ever happen to me. I’d be a fool to let him go.”

Maggie’s eyes filled with tears. She let out a long sigh and stood, her arms opening wide. “Then welcome to the family.”

Chapter 28

Two days passed since the note appeared on Nick’s windshield. Except for meeting Nick’s mom, Callie hadn’t left Noble Oaks. She was beginning to go stir crazy. She closed the Eleanor Roosevelt biography in her lap. She’d been on the same page for twenty minutes now, but she couldn’t concentrate on the words.

She glanced at Nick, sprawled on the floor, his back resting against the living room sofa. A frown creased his brow. His mouth was set in stone. Obviously, writing wasn’t going very well.

“Dammit,” he proclaimed, sliding the laptop onto the floor. He stood, stretching his arms and then dropping them to his sides. “Absolutely nothing is coming to me. I have hit the proverbial brick wall.”

He sat down on the arm of the chair she sat in. His fingers began to massage her neck absently.

“Do you think I can help?” she asked. “I’ve actually brainstormed with our writers several times when they were doing long-range plotting for the show.” She smiled as a few memories of those late night bull sessions emerged. “It was actually pretty fun.”

“Fun?” He gave her a wry smile. “To me, writing is like having teeth extracted with no anesthesia. Or it’s the most exhilarating roller coaster ride in the world. No in-between. Famine or feast.”

She turned and faced him. “No, seriously. Maybe I could help. You said you’re beginning a new book. What happens first to get things rolling along?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. I always start with my characters first. I have to see them in my mind’s eye. I have to know their names. Then I start fiddling with their back-story. Why they’re like they are. Then I create character profiles. What they like and dislike. How they would react in certain situations.”

Nick stood and began to pace as he spoke. “Half the background stuff I do never sees the page, but it helps me know who they are and how they became that way.”

“And then?”

He stopped pacing. “Once I have them nailed down, then I go for the story. I have a file of interesting crimes I clip from newspapers. I also scan several newspapers online and cut and paste story ideas into Word docs. Anything to jumpstart me.”

“Why don’t we look at some of those first?”

He looked horrified. “Before I have my characters? I haven’t even settled on their names yet.”

She smiled at him. “Indulge me. Pull up something for us to go over.”

“I have never done it this way before,” he grumbled. “This just doesn’t seem right.”

He sat on the sofa and reached for his laptop, his fingers skimming over the keys as he called up the information she’d asked for. She took a seat next to him.

He sighed. “You know, I’m sorry if I sound anal. I’ve actually read quite a few books on the writing process. Gone to conferences. And there are lots of writers who come up with their storyline first. It’s just never been the way I operate. I guess you’re pulling me from my comfort zone.”

Callie squeezed his bicep. “It’s okay, big boy. We artists all have our little idiosyncrasies.”

Nick clicked on a file. “Here are some I’ve squirreled away that seem pretty workable.”

Callie began to read, using the scroll key to zip through the stories he had saved.

“Hmmm. This is interesting. A bar owner who killed off his obnoxious patrons one by one. And I like this one, the second-string high school quarterback who knocked off his competition so he could land the starting job.”

She sat a moment. “Let me think.” She closed her eyes, trying to enter Nick’s dark world of crime and death. She wondered if this were a wise move on her part as she sensed her body tensing. No, she wouldn’t let her real life problems consume her. She would simply process things as he did. Distance herself from the material. Think of it as a script. And then she had the germ of an idea.

“Wait. What about this.” She opened her eyes to find his midnight blue ones staring into hers. Callie got that tingle that only Nick could give her. She shrugged it off, trying to get down to business.

“What about a sociopath who’s a cop?”

He nodded slowly. She could see his wheels beginning to turn as he spoke. “And maybe when he can’t get the evidence he wants, he simply eliminates the suspect. A la Dexter except not as adorable. That could work.”

“And he could have this really sympathetic D.A. as a love interest,” she suggested.

Nick’s eyes lit up. “Maybe his best friend—say it was his partner—was killed in the line of duty right in front of him. The guy winds up getting off on a technicality. That sticks in our man’s craw. That could be his first murder. Bring his partner’s killer to justice.”

Excitement spread across his face. She thought a moment. “But was he born a sociopath? Or did he develop into one? Did society’s rules and this killer getting off create something in him that made him fall off the legal path? Was it always in him? Or as a cop does he think he’s above the law?”

His excitement was now visible. “My mind is racing. I’ve got to start getting this down.” His fingers flew over the keyboard.

She smiled to herself. She had some ideas of her own. She went to the desk and pulled out pen and paper since she was too lazy to go upstairs for her iPad. She returned to sit next to Nick. She began plotting, her thoughts almost coming too fast to get everything down on paper.

A knock at the door interrupted their work. Essie stepped in, rolling a cart of sandwiches and soft drinks. A bouquet of fresh flowers accompanied the meal. Essie traded out the vase with one on the coffee table.

“Those flowers are beautifully arranged,” Callie told her.

“Mr. Eric came through and helped Miz Callandra find a new gardener. He cut these and even arranged them himself.” The cook smiled. “Miss Gretchen’s gonna have her nose out of joint. She’s been having fun doing up the flowers.”

Nick hit save and slid his laptop under the sofa. He placed the plates and drinks on the table as they spoke. “I guess I need to move the rest of my stuff out of the caretaker’s cottage.”

Essie nodded. “Miz C knew you didn’t have much since the place came furnished. She asked me to see if you could move your things over to the red room this afternoon so the new young man can get settled in. He said he don’t have much either.”

“My clothes are all pretty much here. I just have my books. Two filing cabinets of research and odds and ends. Some DVDs and CDs and my iTouch. It won’t take me long, Essie. I’ll get to it right after lunch.”

“You do that. I’m heading back to town now to the salon. You need anything else?”

“No. We’re good. Thanks for lunch.”

She left, and Callie bit into her sandwich. “Yum. Essie makes the best chicken salad on the planet. I think I’ve tried every deli in New York, but none comes close to hers.”

Nick smiled. “So are you still thinking about us living in New York some?”

“I don’t really know. I have decided I’m not returning to the show.”

“Really?” He reached over and took her free hand. “I know that had to be a hard decision.”

“I need to call my agent and the show’s producers. My heart isn’t in it anymore. I think that would show on screen. I’ve always given my best, and I couldn’t let the fans down with a half-baked performance.”

“Have you thought about doing theater? If so, we definitely need to be in New York. Or films?” He frowned. “I guess we can always go to California.”

Callie squeezed his hand. “That wasn’t a good place for you. I don’t want to bring up any unhappy memories.”

Nick brought her hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle tenderly. “Baby, wherever we go, I’ll make new memories with you.”

Her heart melted at his romantic words. “I love you,” she whispered.

His smile quickened her pulse. His eyes spoke of the unspoken promises between them. “I love you more.” He pulled her to him. His mouth came down on hers possessively, thoroughly ravaging every inch of her lips, her teeth, her tongue. She trembled at his every touch even as she drew closer still, never wanting it to end.

Finally, he pulled away, his eyes gleaming. They both panted as if they’d just sprinted hundreds of yards and were physically spent. Nick stroked her cheek, his fingers like a flickering flame, branding her as his.

“We might need to invest in some flame-retardant sheets,” he quipped. “Else the house might burn down around us.”

She realized she was shivering—with both emotion and desire. Nick wrapped an arm around her to steady her, drawing her next to him. He reached over and put her plate in their shared lap.

“How about a little lunch?” He brought a quartered sandwich to her lips, which still trembled from his touch. She nibbled at it, trying to calm her racing heart. She chewed thoughtfully. It amazed her, the depth of her emotions for this man.

“I still like your first idea best,” she told him. “An apartment in New York and a larger place here. Lots of films are shot in New York as it is. If some director really wants me—and who’s to say an ex-soap star will even be marketable—I’ll only take a project if it’s shot in the city.”

He took a huge chunk of the remainder of her sandwich. “No. Don’t turn anything down you really want to do. We can always rent a place in California for the short term if need be. I can write anywhere. Have laptop, will travel.”

He took another bite, and her sandwich became history. “Just don’t drag me to any fashion shows or Spago or—”

Callie silenced him with a kiss. “I’m not much into that.” She reached over to the other plate, and they started in on his sandwich. “Besides, we’ll have to actually find a place here. I’d love for Aurora to be our permanent base. And if you like my apartment in New York, we can keep it. It’s got plenty of space. I’m sure you’ll have to put your own spin on a few rooms, though. I can’t see you liking my girly comforter and throw pillows much.”

Lacking a sandwich, he playfully nibbled on her fingers. “Something tells me that if it’s your bedroom, I won’t be focusing on the furnishings.” He growled low. She lost it, laughing aloud.

Nick pulled her to her feet. “God, I love to hear you laugh.” He cupped her face and kissed her softly. “Now I need to go move a few things.”

“I’ll help you.”

“No. Stay here. There’s not much. Besides, it would probably drive the cops crazy, you going back and forth like that. Why don’t you check out this red room and clear some space for me? I won’t be long.”

He kissed her again, more deeply this time. She clung to him, her blood singing, wanting more than just a kiss.

“Hey, Sparky. Don’t make me go up in flames,” he teased. “Once I move in? Maybe we need to test out the bed in the red room.”

Her pulse zoomed up her personal Richter scale. “I’d . . . I’d like that.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes searched hers. “I don’t want to push you if you aren’t ready.” He smiled, then teased, “Hey, I’m already a sure thing. You may not have the ring on your finger yet, but I’m yours for life.”

She put her arms around his neck. “I’m very sure.” She couldn’t believe she felt so loved that she was able to move past the assault, past the scars. Loving Nick and him loving her in return made her brave and strong.

She brushed a light kiss on his mouth and pulled away. “Go get moving. Then we can move onto better things. Like that novel we’re collaborating on. I got down some wicked smart ideas before Essie brought lunch.”

Nick cupped her buttocks and pulled her closer to him. “So writing is what you have in mind for your future?”

She bit her lip. “That. And some other stuff. So hop to it.”

He released her and left the room. She went upstairs to the red room. It connected to her bedroom with the adjoining Jack and Jill bathroom in the middle. The oak furniture fit well with the burgundy drapes and comforter. She supposed at one point the furnishings might have actually been red. Tradition died hard in the South, though. She checked and found all the drawers were empty. She moved a few knickknacks around on the dresser, clearing space for his laptop and iTouch.

As she worked, the thought of working on a writing project with Nick excited her. She’d never written professionally before, but she’d always had a flair for it back in school. She loved writing short stories and poetry. Or maybe Nick could write something with her in mind. He’d never done a screenplay before, but with his talent and the Nick Van Sandt name recognition, it would be easier than he thought. She wondered who his agent was and if he or she focused strictly on publishing or had Hollywood connections.

Callie slid a chair and table over some to make room for his two filing cabinets. This room would be perfect to work in. It had a small sitting area with a desk nearby, and the light was good. Suddenly, a great plot thread hit her. She rushed back downstairs to get her thoughts onto paper.

She curled up on the sofa and began scribbling. She’d barely begun when her cell phone rang. She almost let it go to voice mail, but then she decided she better answer it. Beth had promised to call back when she had more time for them to talk about Nick. Glancing at her watch, she bet Beth had put down her son for his afternoon nap.

She pulled the cell from her pocket and answered it.

“Hello?”

Silence greeted her.

“Hello?” she repeated.

Nothing. The quiet spooked her. She realized she should’ve noticed the Caller ID before she answered, but she had assumed it was Beth. She pulled the phone away from her ear. It was Waggoner calling. Maybe he was driving and had hit a dead zone.

“Hey, Waggoner. I can’t hear you. I’m going to hang up. Try again. Call me back.” She started to end the call when an eerie moan rose in her ear. It was low. Gut wrenching. Fear gripped her, paralyzing her.

“Waggoner? Is that you?” she whispered.

Again, a noise. This time a gasp of pain. Adrenaline surged through her.

“Who is this?” she asked, her voice stronger.

“Callie?” a voice croaked. “Hang up.”