Resurrection Dreams (30 page)

“Melvin, no. I’m paying. I insist.”

“Hey, I got money I don’t know what to do with.”

Her fingertips suddenly curled over the top of his menu and eased it down. She looked him in the eyes. His embarrassment fled as he felt a soft warm glow spread through him. “My treat,” she whispered.

“But if you want a steak…”

“I don’t even want to look at one.” She drew her arm back slowly. In the dim light, it was dusky and sleek. “I want prawns. You may have whatever you wish. Have steak and lobster, if you like. Don’t think about the cost.”

“Okay. I just wanted to…”

She touched a finger to her lips. “You’ve given me so much already.”

“You made me take the car back.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she said, “and you know it.”

The waiter stepped up to the table. “Are you ready to order, now?”

“I think so,” Vicki said. She glanced at Melvin. “Have you decided?”

He nodded. He hadn’t decided. He raced his eyes down the menu while Vicki talked to the waiter, didn’t know what half the dishes were, didn’t know if he should go ahead and order steak.

“And you, sir?” the waiter asked.

“I’ll have the same as her,” he said, and felt a wonderful sense of relief when the waiter took his menu.

“And bring us a bottle of the Buena Vista Sauvignon Blanc,” Vicki added.

“Very good.” The waiter left.

“We having wine?” Melvin asked.

“Don’t you like it?”

“Sure.” Grinning, he rubbed a hand across his mouth and felt crumbs of salt fall off his lips. “We ain’t careful, we’re gonna get snockered.”

“We’re celebrating,” she said.

She trying to ge me drunk? he wondered. Or trying to get herself drunk?

She was already near the end of her second margarita, and her face had a rosy hue that wasn’t there earlier.

She’s just nervous, he thought. He remembered the way her hand had trembled when they clinked glasses. It’s our first date, she has a right to be nervous. I’m pretty shaky, myself. But if she keeps putting down the booze…

She won’t be in any shape to drive home.

I’ll get her into my car.

Melvin’s heart was suddenly pounding so hard he wondered if she might hear it.

“What’re we celebrating?” he asked.

She finished her margarita, sighed, set down the glass, and licked the salt from her lips. “What’re we celebrating?” she asked, as if questioning herself. She leaned back. She stretched her arms across the top of the booth’s cushion. The movement made her blouse pull slightly against the undersides of her breasts. “Us,” she said. Her voice was soft, solemn. “We’re celebrating us.”

“That’s…real nice.”

“A friend like you is very rare. I know you’re too modest to admit you took care of Pollock. But that’s all right. The thing is, I appreciate it. He was terrible to me, and you made him pay for it. It isn’t just that I’m grateful. I am grateful. But it’s more than that. It’s that you cared so much. You actually risked your life for me. He might’ve killed you, or the cops might’ve got you…” She pressed her lips together. She looked as if she might begin to weep. “I’ve never known anyone so gallant.”

Melvin swallowed, fighting the lump in his throat. “I…I’d do anything for you.”

Leaning forward, Vicki reached her hand across the table. Melvin covered it with his hand, felt its gentle squeeze. He saw her look away. She drew her hand back moments before the waiter arrived with salads and a basket of bread.

Damn it! Why’d the bastard have to show up and ruin things?

When he was gone, Vicki stared into Melvin’s eyes for a moment. Then, she began to eat.

Melvin picked at his salad. The white, lumpy dressing had a sour taste. He didn’t like it, but the way he felt, he doubted that he could eat anything right now. His thumping heart made him light-headed. He felt hollow inside, and aching. Pushing the salad aside, he took a drink.

“You don’t like the salad?” Vicki asked.

“The stuff that’s on it.”

“Bleu cheese dressing. It’s my favorite.”

He sipped his margarita and watched her eat. After a few bites of salad, she took a roll from the basket and ate half of it before returning to her salad. She barely spared him a glance as she worked on the food. And she ate so slowly.

Melvin wanted her to rush and get done and talk to him.

She was almost finished when the waiter arrived again. This time, he had the bottle of wine. He showed the label to Vicki, and she nodded. Then he uncorked the bottle. He poured a dab into her glass. She tasted it, said, “Very nice,” and he filled both glasses. He set the bottle on the table.

Then, he was gone.

Vicki ate a big chunk of the bleu cheese. She set her fork down on her salad plate, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and lifted her gaze to Melvin. “I’m sorry you didn’t care for the salad.”

“That’s okay.”

“You should try a roll.”

He shrugged.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“I didn’t upset you, did I? What I said about…my feelings for you.”

“No. Yeah. I guess. I don’t know.”

“You’re not angry, are you?”

“Gosh, no.”

She drank the last of her margarita. “I hope you’re not worried that I might tell. I mean, it’s our secret. I wouldn’t breathe a word about it to anyone, not even to Ace.” Smiling, she shook her head. “No one would believe me, anyway. They’re all certain the nurse did it. Patricia something?”

“Maybe she did do it. That’s what the cops say.”

“You don’t have to play games with me, Melvin.”

Maybe you’re the one playing games, he thought. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He didn’t want to believe it. This was all too good to be real, but why can’t it be real? Resurrecting Patricia had been too good to be real. It had happened, though. This could be happening, too. Vicki might honestly like him—even love him—for what he’d done to Pollock.

“I’m curious about something,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me, but…it was fascinating the other night when you explained about digging up Darlene and setting up your science project. So how on earth did you manage to make it look like Patricia…took care of that creep?”

“Can’t we talk about something else?”

“Sure. I’m sorry.” She took a sip of wine and looked around as if searching for the waiter.

“Somebody could hear us.”

“I shouldn’t have asked. Forget it. I mean, I’m interested, that’s all. But I can understand how you might be afraid of saying anything…too specific. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Ah, here comes the food.”

This time, Melvin felt grateful for the waiter’s interruption. It saved him from getting in deeper. He didn’t know what to do. Vicki was pushing to find out everything. Maybe she needed to be convinced that he really had done the job on Pollock. Maybe she was starting to doubt it. What if she should decide he wasn’t involved, after all?

The waiter left, and Vicki began to eat.

Melvin looked down at his plate. Steam was rising off the asparagus and white rice. The prawns were smothered in a brownish sauce that smelled strongly of garlic. He forked one and tried it.

“Good?” Vicki asked.

“Yeah.” He supposed it was very good, but he had no appetite. He went ahead and ate, anyway. He ate, and drank wine, and watched Vicki. Though she sometimes glanced up at him, she didn’t speak.

I should’ve told her, Melvin thought. I’m gonna lose her.

Then he reminded himself that she had eaten her salad with the same concentration. It’s just the way she eats. Doesn’t mean nothing.

What if I do tell her? he wondered.

That would mean explaining about Patricia. Would Vicki even believe him? She’d believe, all right, if he showed her Patricia.

Can’t do that.

He could just imagine the scene. Patricia would fly into a jealous rage and Vicki, herself, might freak out when she realized what he’d been up to. Killing, resurrecting, living with a zombie. Even if she could accept all that, she was bound to figure out what he and Patricia had been doing together. That’d be bad enough, even if Patricia was just a regular person. But doing it with a zombie?

Can’t ever let her find out, he decided.

She isn’t gonna find out, long as I keep my mouth shut. I’ll get rid of Patricia before Vicki ever steps foot in my house. She’ll never know.

When she finished eating, she picked up the wine bottle and inspected it. Melvin saw that there wasn’t much left. They had both been refilling their glasses during the meal. She poured more wine into Melvin’s glass, then emptied the bottle into hers. “Would you like some coffee or dessert?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

They’d have more time in the restaurant if they lingered over coffee and dessert. He wanted more time with her. But it would be even better if they were alone.

Maybe we can go someplace.

She has her own car. Ace’s.

But she’s had a lot to drink.

“You wanta have another margarita or something?” he asked.

Smiling, she shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think that’d be such a good idea. I know my limits. I wouldn’t be in any condition to drive.”

“I’ll drive you. You can leave the car here.”

The waiter showed up. “Would you care for coffee?”

“No, I think we’re all done.”

“Very good. Did you enjoy your meal?”

“Everything was delicious,” Vicki said.

He left.

Vicki lifted her purse off the seat beside her and set it on her lap. Melvin felt a pressure growing inside. As soon as she paid the bill, they would be leaving.

What’ll happen then?

“I oughta drive you,” he said. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“Don’t be silly, Melvin.”

“We can take Ace’s car. I can come back and get mine.”

“What would you do, walk all the way over here?”

“Sure. It ain’t far.”

“I appreciate the offer,” she said. “I really do. But that’d be so much trouble for you.”

The waiter returned. He had the bill on a small plastic tray. He set the tray on the table. Vicki quickly picked up the bill. She studied it for a few moments, then took cash from her purse. She placed three twenties on the tray, covered them with the bill, and smiled at Melvin. “All ready?”

“Don’t you gotta wait for your change?”

Shaking her head, she scooted to the end of the booth and stood up. Melvin saw that her blouse hung loose past her waist, draping the top of a white, pleated skirt. The skirt covered her almost to the knees.

She waited for Melvin to rise, then took hold of his hand. Her warmth seemed to flow up his arm. He felt as if his heart were swelling.

This is so great, he thought. This is so great—it can’t end.

We’ll go somewhere, now.

It’ll be her idea. Just wait and see. We’ll get into the parking lot and she’ll say, Why don’t you follow me in your car? We can go to my place. Ace isn’t home. We can sit around and have a drink and talk some more. I’d like that, wouldn’t you?

It’ll happen. That’s just what she’ll say. She just paid for my dinner, for Christ sake. And she still wants to know how I wiped out Pollock.

He opened the door for Vicki, and they stepped into the night.

“Will you walk me to my car?” she asked, still holding his hand.

“Sure.”

They started across the parking lot.

“Did you enjoy your dinner?” she asked.

“Being with you.”

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ll do it again soon, all right?”

“Yeah.” Melvin felt himself sinking. She was getting ready to tell him goodnight. She wasn’t going to say they should go somewhere now. Her suggestion that they soon have dinner again didn’t help dispel his gloom. He wanted to be with her now—tonight. “Next time, I’m gonna pay.”

“Next time,” Vicki said, “maybe you’ll trust me enough to be honest about things.”

Her words, though softly spoken, struck him like a punch.

“I trust you.” He sounded whiny to himself.

Vicki stopped beside Ace’s Mustang, released his hand, and took the keys out of her purse. She faced him. “I wish you did, Melvin. I don’t know what kind of relationship we can have, if you feel you need to keep things from me. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed. If you can’t be open with me…”

“I’ll be open. It was just…we was in a restaurant.”

“We’re not in the restaurant, now. Nobody’s anywhere around.”

“Can’t we go someplace? Can’t we go someplace and talk? Like maybe your house?”

“Ace is there.”

“Well, how about we just drive? We can park someplace and…”

“I have to get home. I can’t be away from a telephone. One of my patients is about due…”

“Huh?”

“I might have to deliver a baby tonight. In fact, we’re lucky we made it through dinner. I can’t go anywhere but home, Melvin. I’ll give you a call in a few days.”

“A few days?”

“I need some time to think. I’m not at all sure about things anymore.”

“Just ‘cause I didn’t tell you about Patricia?”

“I don’t care about that. I’m interested, but…it’s the fact that you’re keeping me closed out. You’re afraid to reveal yourself to me. That’s what hurts.”

His mouth was dry, his heart slamming. “What if I tell you I sent Patricia to waste him?”

“Did you?”

“Maybe.”

“See? You still won’t open up. What do you think, I’m going to tell the police? Do you think I’ve got a tape recorder here, or something?” She suddenly pulled open her purse and thrust it toward his face. “Look. You see a recorder in there?”

The lights of the parking lot were bright enough for him to see a billfold, a compact, a tube of lipstick, and a small pack of tissues inside the purse. Nothing that resembled a tape recorder.

“Satisfied?” Vicki asked. She snapped the purse shut, whirled around, fumbled with the keys, got one into the door lock and opened the door. She tossed her purse onto the car seat. Then, she turned and faced Melvin. She shook her head. “I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

“Well, yeah. Sure it’s all right.”

Leaning forward, she brushed her lips lightly against his mouth. “I’ll call you,” she whispered.

He stood there speechless, amazed and thrilled, and watched her climb into the car. The door thumped shut. The engine stuttered to life. The headlights came on. The driver’s window slid down.