Stargazey Point (23 page)

His smile faded.

She cast around for a flat surface. Reached over and deposited the bag on a nearby table. “Bye.” She turned to go.

“Abbie, is something wrong?”

She shook her head. “Just want to get back before it starts to rain. Sarah warned me about afternoon showers.”

“Rain wasn’t forecast for today. But you know how wrong these weathermen can be.”

She stopped. Turned slowly to see what she expected. The smile back in place. He was teasing her. Nobody had teased her in years.

“I didn’t bring lunch for Beau.”

“Beau isn’t here. It’s Sunday, remember?”

“Does he go to church with Millie? I heard her leave this morning.”

“God, no. I don’t know what he does on Sundays, though I do know they ‘visit’ in the afternoon and have an early dinner. To which . . .” he added, “I’ve been invited. Thought I better give you a heads-up.”

He was coming to dinner? Her heart made a traitorous bump.

“Well, I’ll see you then . . . then.”

He chuckled. Chuckled. Christ.

“Hear you’ve been doing some painting. Maybe you’ll volunteer to paint here when the time comes.”

“Sure. Just say when and I’ll bring my paintbrush. If I’m still here.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

“I’m just visiting, remember. I’ll have to go out and find a job pretty soon. Since as you know, I don’t have one.”

“Abbie.” He stepped toward her.

“Don’t.”

He stopped, his eyes focused on her chest. “I was just— Is that what Beau was carving for you?”

“What?” She swallowed. “Oh. Yes. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He leaned in to study it more closely. So close she could smell the sawdust and shampoo in his hair. He lifted a finger and lightly touched the star. “I’ve never seen anything he’s carved before. It’s exquisite.”

She was having trouble breathing. She stepped back. “You better eat that sandwich before it gets cold.”

“It is cold. Turkey and Swiss.”

“Or dries out. I’d better go.”

He smiled and her whole body tingled. “Abbie. Wait a minute.”

“I’m—”

“I know, you want to beat the rain. You also want to get away from me. Is it something I’ve said or done?”

She shook her head. “Of course not.”

“Look. This is a small town and we’re going to be running into each other all the time. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I want . . . well, for us to be friends.”

He grimaced. Abbie bet she had a similar expression. Friends?

“Sure. Fine.”

“So let’s make a pact. I won’t push, and you won’t run. Deal?”

She nodded.

He stuck out his hand. “Shake on it.”

She looked at his hand; time seemed to freeze while she ordered herself to put her hand in his. Slowly she reached up and his hand enclosed hers. An electric shock shot up her arm. She flinched but didn’t pull away.

“Static electricity,” Cab said. “Maybe it
is
going to storm.”

Abbie had no doubt that it would, but not the way he was talking about. A storm was already raging inside her. It had been bad enough when she’d thought she had no future. It had just gotten worse now that she began to hope she would.

She realized he was still holding her hand.

“Deal,” she said and tried to pull her hand away.

He held on. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m pretty harmless. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“I’m not. I know—”

“And if I do, you have leave to slap me upside the head.”

She laughed; she couldn’t help it. Just when she’d started to panic, he’d brought out the comedy relief.

“Deal.” This time when she pulled her hand away, he let it go.

“See you tonight.”

“See ya.” She held the smile until she made it outside. Then she stopped to take several deep breaths. She wasn’t afraid of him. How could he even think that? He just kept her off balance. Just like Ervina or Sarah did.

Who was she kidding? It was different. Way different. She cringed when she remembered the way her body had reacted to Cab’s touch. That was certainly different, and she was so not ready.

She was castigating herself for being a coward when she passed the community center. She abruptly forgot about herself.

The twins were sitting on the stoop looking forlorn, but their faces lit up when they saw her. They popped up simultaneously from the step and made a beeline for her, both talking at once.

“Miss Sarah says we cain’t see our pictures by ourselves,” Dani explained in a rush.

“Have to have a grown-up,” Joe added. “Miz Sarah’s helping Talia with her sittin’ test.”

“Her sitting test?” Abbie asked, her concentration taken up with the hands pulling at her clothes.

“To go to college. Her sittin’ test.”

“Her SAT?”

Joe nodded so hard that Abbie was afraid he might hurt himself. “S . . . A . . . T. Sat. That’s right, her sittin’ test.”

“I see,” Abbie said. “Her sittin’ test.” How could she resist? She took their hands. “Come on, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Dani let go of her hand long enough for Abbie to open the door, which she noticed Sarah hadn’t locked, most likely for the same reason she’d probably left the twins on the stoop—to sucker her into helping. But they looked so innocent she couldn’t hold it against them or Sarah.

She had to hoist each of them onto the high stools in order to reach the worktable. Then she found their tape and, after hunting through a pile of used electronics, found an adapter that actually worked.

For the next hour they ran portions of the videotape, rewatched every bouncing out-of-control frame of the gazebo painting twice while the twins giggled and pointed and accused each other of making the camera wobble. Finally they reached steadier footage, and the twins grew quiet as they watched the camera pan across their friends.

Abbie saw their faces transform to wonder, and she was suddenly glad that Sarah had left them to waylay her. She relaxed into a scenario where she belonged. Working, one-on-one or one-on-two or -three. Up close and personal. This is what she did best.

Other children began to dribble in, and by two o’clock, seven more children had arrived at the community center. Abbie settled them into games or homework and went back to finish up with Dani and Joe.

A deafening boom made them all jump. In one movement, the twins glommed themselves to Abbie.

“Wah’s dat?”

“Shootin’,” Dani said in a whisper that stuttered with her quaking body.

Abbie gave them both a squeeze. “I don’t think it’s shooting, just thunder.”

Another boom made the windows rattle. “See.” But she became vibrantly aware of all the electrical equipment surrounding them. She hadn’t noticed any surge protectors.

“But I think we’re finished here. Let’s go in the other room.” With the twins glued to her sides, she quickly unplugged the equipment. No reason to tempt nature or the electricity, which by Sarah’s admission was ancient. As they left the room they were confronted by seven wide-eyed children standing in the doorway to the media room.

“The little kids are scared,” said Kyle. He was putting up a good front, but from beneath his shaggy blond bangs, his eyes kept darting to the ceiling as if he expected lightning to strike through the roof.

“Well, there’s safety in numbers,” Abbie said. “Let’s go find something we can all do.” Then the rain started. A heavy downpour that clouded the windows and drummed on the tin roof.

They stood surrounding her as close as they could get.

“How about we read a book?”

“Aw, no readin’. I already done my readin’.”

“Tell us a story,” begged Dani, just as another clap of thunder reverberated through the room. Everyone pressed closer. Abbie toppled backward and landed on the lumpy overstuffed chair. Dani and Joe climbed onto her lap before she could extricate herself. All the others crowded around, sitting on the rickety arms, leaning over the back. Huddled at her feet. JuJu Jenny managed to find a place perched precariously on Abbie’s knee.

The lights flickered and went out. They all scooted closer.

“Well . . . Once upon a time there was a little town called Stargazey . . .”

M
arnie hung up the kitchen wall phone. “That was Ervina. I told her the weather was looking too bad for her to come over tonight.”

“That was very considerate of you,” Millie said.

“Actually she said she had no intention of coming anyway. That our guest knew which end was up and we could just serve ourselves.”

“She’s just too old to be working for us.”

Marnie turned away to hide her impatience. Ervina didn’t work for them. Hadn’t worked for them in decades. They couldn’t pay her even if she wanted the job, which she didn’t.

Millie sighed and looked up from the peas she was shelling. “I’m sure Abbie will understand. And besides, a more intimate dinner might give her and Cabot a chance to get to know each other better. I think they would be lovely together. Don’t you? But where is she? I hope she’s not stuck out in the rain somewhere.”

“I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Well, I think you should call Cabot and ask him to look out for her. She’ll need a ride back in this weather.”

Rather than arguing, Marnie picked up the phone again. Her call went to Cab’s voice mail. She left a message, sat back down at the table, and reached for a handful of pea pods.

“Do you hear that?”

Marnie stopped to listen.

“It’s that cat again. I don’t know why he can’t find somewhere else to stay when it rains.”

Marnie pushed out of her seat and went to the kitchen door. She opened it just wide enough for Moses to shoot through, not slowing down but streaking through the kitchen and out the door to the hallway.

Millie looked up. “Beau, don’t you let that cat get my furniture all wet.”

A muffled reply from another room.

Marnie sat down and reached for another pea pod.

C
ab knocked off work when the rain clouds made it too dark to see. He covered over the new exterior doors he’d been working on, checked that there were pails under all known leaks and went into the back workshop. He checked the humidity setting and the temperature and locked the room. With a final look around he called it a day.

He was halfway home when the first bolt of lightning split the sky. It was followed almost immediately by a deafening clap of thunder. Cab picked up his pace then broke into a run as the sky began dumping water on the streets. By the time he reached his house he was drenched to the skin.

He kicked off his shoes just inside the door and quickly crossed the living room, stripping out of his wet shirt as he went. The layer of sawdust and grime that seemed to cover him had turned to mud on his final sprint home. He went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He stripped out of his clothes while the bathroom filled with steam, then he climbed in.

Feeling human again, he toweled off and went to find a beer. His phone message button was blinking. He picked up the receiver and was relieved to hear the message was from Crispin House. He listened to Marnie ask that if he saw Abbie in town to drive her home.

Abbie had left him more than four hours ago. He thought back trying to remember if she’d mentioned where she was going. But he drew a blank. Something that had happened more than once when he was with her.

His mind would drift away from her words and he’d find himself just looking at her wondering how someone so—
fey
, the only word he could come up with for describing her pale ethereal beauty—could manage to thrive in all the places she’d worked. Extreme weather, topography, disease, natural disaster, death.

Her body was lithe, fragile looking. Her hands appeared too delicate to dig in the mud even to save a child. He wondered how she became so strong and where she would go next. And he’d begin to wonder other things, which were definitely not in order, and he’d jerk his attention back to what she was saying and try to jump back into the conversation.

He remembered she’d had lunch with Sarah.

Well, if she wasn’t back at Crispin House, she’d either be at Penny’s, Bethanne’s, or with Sarah at the community center.

He made some calls. Neither Penny nor Bethanne had seen her since lunch. He called Sarah’s cell.

“She’s not with me. I’m out at the Howard place tutoring Talia for her SAT.”

“Who’s at the center? I saw a light on.”

There was silence, then Sarah said, “Ha. Maybe, just maybe, she’s there.”

“You sound very satisfied with yourself.”

“I will be if you find her there.”

Cab dressed for dinner and took the SUV to look for Abbie.

The rain was really coming down. Even with the wipers on high he could barely see. He drove slowly and pulled up to the steps of the community center. He should have called Marnie back to see if Abbie had a cell phone, not that she would have reception in this weather. Besides, this way . . . Cab reached over the seat and fumbled for the stadium umbrella he kept in the back pouch.

He opened the door, unfurled the umbrella, and sprinted up the steps to the porch. Stood for a few seconds to shake off the rain from the umbrella, then leaned it up against the house.

He tried the door. It opened and he stepped in to find a gang of children all huddled together.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked, suddenly alarmed.

“Thank goodness,” said a familiar voice.

The children parted to reveal Abbie holding three sleeping children and surrounded by several more.

“I could use a hand here,” she said.

Cab just stood, watching.
A reluctant Madonna,
he thought, dressed in jeans and sweatshirt, surrounded by a ragtag assortment of children wearing hand-me-downs and bargain-store clothes. She was beautiful. They were beautiful.

“Sarah’s not back and they’re still here. How do we, um, when do they go home?”

“They’ll stay forever.”

The look on her face was priceless. He couldn’t help himself. He smiled, he grinned, he felt exhilarated. “Who needs a ride home?”

Everyone’s hand went up. Dani and Joe sat groggily up, pushing Jenny to the floor. The three of them raised their hands, though Cab doubted if they even knew why.