Private Entrance (The Butterfly Trilogy) (34 page)

     He had taken the news of the pregnancy like a good Freudian analyst—calm, detached, asking her what she thought of it before offering an opinion of his own. If he was scared, he didn't show it. And if he held opinions as to how the pregnancy happened—surely she had to know that tetracycline interfered with oral contraception, Ophelia always read the inserts in medications—that it was a subconscious wish to get pregnant, he kept them to himself. And he didn't bring up the issue of why she had never gotten herself genetically tested, as everyone else in both their families had—which was how David knew he was a carrier—although he had once hinted that perhaps Ophelia didn't want to discover she was defective. None of this ever came out in so many words, but now as she stood over him, watching him sleep, with the memory of his touch still imprinted on her skin, she wondered if he was right about the fear of having a defect, and if he was right to think she had committed some sort of unconscious self-sabotage. But if so, why?

     She had almost asked David about the white narcissus last night, how she had first picked up the scent in the garden, and then imagined it everywhere. But that would have been a whole new issue to lay at his feet. Right now, there was the pregnancy.

     And what to do about it.

     Ophelia calmly brushed her teeth, washed her face, and dressed in bleached jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. The desert was cold in the morning. Walking shoes, sunglasses and sun hat. She left him a note. "I have gone to think. Will be back soon."

     Six hours later, she still had not returned.

     "Abilene Tyler," Jack said into the phone to his friend at the police forensics lab. "I think she was born in Texas. Run a search on birth records. 1950's in Abilene and Tyler, Texas."

     Jack hung up and, squinting at the morning sunshine in his walled garden, came to a decision.

     He had invented various reasons for not being on his way back to LA once he had Abby's fingerprints. It all had to do with Nina, he kept telling himself. But it was time to face the truth. Tyler herself was the reason he was still here. She had a hold on him that he found increasingly difficult to break.

     It was time to make that break. Whatever his friend in forensics uncovered, Jack would address it back at the police station in LA. Where he could be in control of his emotions again.

     Holstering his gun and slipping into his leather jacket, he set off in search of Abby Tyler.

     Her mind was on Ophelia as she hurried along the path and nearly collided with Jack as she rounded the corner at the aviary.

     "Detective!" she said. Jack had also been on her mind. The pain he was in, and wishing she could help him.

     "I'm glad I found you," he said. "I just learned that I'm needed back at the station, so I will be checking out."

     "But you're booked here until Saturday," she said, thinking that after Saturday she might never see him again.

     He avoided her eyes. "Can't be helped. I'd appreciate it if you could arrange for me to have the first available seat on a flight out."

     David was frantic with worry. Where was Ophelia?

     Scribbling a quick note in case she came back while he was gone, he struck off in search of someone in charge. A staff member escorted him to Abby Tyler, who was by the aviary, talking to a man in a leather jacket.

     "Dr. Messer," she said in surprise.

     "I'm worried, Ms. Tyler. I think something has happened to my fiancée. Ophelia left early this morning to go for a walk and she hasn't come back. It's just not like her to do that."

     Abby masked her sudden alarm. Zeb had reported unusual coyote activity in the past few days. Several females had given birth recently and the males were aggressively searching for food. "I'm sure she'll be all right. The trails around the resort are very safe and clearly marked."

     "You don't understand. She's pregnant."

     Abby retrieved a small walkie-talkie from her pocket and paged Vanessa.
"Get Zeb and the security staff. Have them go out in all the vehicles they can round up." She turned to Jack, her face white, her voice trembling. "I will see about that plane reservation as soon as I can, Detective."

     "Put it on hold," he said. "I'm joining the search party."

S
ISSY WOKE UP SMILING AND STRETCHING
. S
HE HAD NEVER
felt so good.

     Last night, after her dinner with Abby Tyler, Sissy had returned to her bungalow to order two special desserts: one involved cake, the other "Special Security" and a gun. And now she woke on this sun-filled Thursday morning thinking of the coming evening, and something special that she would like to try. One of the fantasy rooms perhaps.

     But first she had to take care of something.

     She was calm as she dialed the number. The person at the other end picked up after the first ring. "Linda Delgado."

     "Ms. Delgado, this is Sissy Whitboro. Ed's wife." She paused to let it sink in. "I know Ed has been seeing you."

     A slight hesitation. "Yes."

     "Well, I just wanted you to know that you can have him. I'm getting a divorce." Sissy hung up and felt a mixture of sadness and relief. She still loved Ed—you don't just cast off fifteen years of love and marriage and children
and shared memories. But this was a new morning, and she was a new Sissy.

     The phone rang almost immediately. It was Ed. "Linda just called me. Oh God, Sissy, how did you find out?"

     "The secret bank statements, the credit card charges, the hotel receipts. Did you think I would never find out?" She was disgusted.

     "Oh God..."

     "Just answer me this, Ed. Did you have an affair?"

     "Sissy—"

     "Be honest with me. Yes or no."

     "Yes...I did..."

     She swallowed painfully. "Then there is nothing more to talk about. Not now. Not on the phone. After I get home."

     "Sissy, wait—"

     The phone rang throughout the day but Sissy wasn't there. She was at the Village, shopping with Ed's secret credit card.

W
HERE ON EARTH
WAS
SHE
?

     A fast walker, embroiled in her thoughts, Ophelia discovered she had strayed far from The Grove. In fact, she could no longer see it. And with the sun directly overhead, she had no idea which way was north, south, east or west.

     Deciding to take a rest, she sat among an unusual grouping of boulders and opened her water bottle. Once the sun headed toward the horizon, she could get a fix on her location and head back to the resort.

     She was surprised to find herself sexually aroused. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or the desert. The wind was old, as if she had walked back in time. She imagined the Native Americans, a thousand years ago, making their dramatic trek westward in search of water and farm lands—the Anasazi who seemed to have vanished mysteriously. But did they really? She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sky. Her body cried out for its blessing. Setting down her pack and water bottle, she unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it off her shoulders.

     The wind's breath was erotic. It made her think of David, his fingertips lightly dancing over her skin. Her breasts ached. Removing her bra, she closed her eyes and let the sun and desert breeze envelope her in an ancient embrace. She suddenly wanted to be naked. To run free among the dunes and feel the shadow of the red-tailed hawk glide over her skin. She wished her hair were long, to brush her bare back in teasing caresses. Imagining it were so, she stood up, bent her head back, closed her eyes, and held her arms out cruciform, to open herself to the spirits and the earth's sexual energy.

     
David materializes before her—a different David, resurrected from the primal past, copper-skinned, long-haired, clad in buckskin loincloth. This warrior knows nothing of pinstriped suits and analysts' couches. He is tied to the land, in tune with the rhythms of nature. His needs are basic and raw: to hunt and to mate.

     
The spear he carries is bloody at the tip. He is panting as if he has run a great distance. He immobilizes Ophelia with his intense, hungry gaze.

     
Yes...

     
The smell of his sweat, pungent and strong, fills her nostrils. And another scent—animal. She has never felt so wild.

     
The loincloth comes away with a tug and she sees what a magnificent male he is. She will show him how much woman she is. She brings him down to the hot earth and presses him onto his back. Removing her own buckskin skirt, she straddles him, watching his face as she lowers herself onto his erection. He moans with pleasure. Her thighs are strong, she can ride him forever.

     
But before he releases, he lifts her off and takes command.

     
He puts a hand on her abdomen as he worships the magic within. They have created life. They are close to the gods. The warrior gives her pleasure in a gentle way that surprises her. This was not the vigorous coupling that had conceived the child; now he is tender and mindful of her condition.

     
While he is moving in a forceful rhythm, he reaches down and touches her magical place and brings her to orgasm, then finishes himself and they both laugh and embrace and thank the gods for the sun and the sky.

     Ophelia opened her eyes and squinted at the ochre wilderness dotted with boulders, cacti and Joshua trees. Filled with her deep love for David, for the man who was her partner and equal, but who was also her warrior
and champion, she understood how basic and simple all of life was. She had allowed herself to become caught up in a race that she did not want to run. Now she knew why she had come to The Grove. Because the answers, all along, were here.

     Reaching for her shirt, she scanned the horizon. How far was she from the resort? There were no telephone poles or roads, no signs pointing the way. To get a better lay of the land, she started to climb up the boulder, but her foot slipped. She lost her grip and tumbled headlong between the big rocks that were older than time.

T
HREE HOURS LATER THE SEARCH PARTY HAD COME UP WITH
nothing. Ophelia was nowhere to be found.

     Kenny knew about the missing guest and wanted to join the search, but he was worried about Coco. The night before...her brief foray into the mind of a cold-blooded murderer. She had looked so wretched when he left her that he had spent a sleepless night in worry.

     The man who had followed them from the security office—an armed security guard who had waited politely until Kenny had said good night—was no longer stationed outside her door. And now she wasn't answering her doorbell.

     Where was she?

     Last night, on this same step, he had asked her to marry him. First she had looked shocked and said, "You're crazy." Then she had frowned and said, "You're serious." The she had just said good night, assured him she would be all right, that she wanted to be alone, and had left it at that.