Uncharted (12 page)

David Payne.

Watson’s voice grew rusty as he gripped the sides of the pulpit and looked out over the funeral crowd. “When I first met David, I couldn’t help noticing his enthusiasm for life as well as his curiosity. David joined my bookselling team, and I’m happy to say he not only
sold
my book, but he
read
it—and, as I guaranteed, the words of that simple story changed his life.”

Karyn sat absolutely still as her flesh tingled with a memory flash. David . . . and a book. She’d seen David with Watson’s blue book in her dream three nights ago. Why would she dream of that the night David died?

“Obviously,” Watson said, stroking the pulpit, “once he became a successful surgeon, David didn’t need a part-time job, but every year he ordered more books to give to his patients’ families. I hope their lives will be as changed by the truths within those pages as David’s . . . and mine.”

The old man’s hand trembled as he shifted to look at someone in the front pew. “Julia, you will be in my thoughts and prayers. Nicholas, I’ll be praying for you too. Both of you should know this—David is not dead; he’s been promoted. He’s in heaven, waiting for us to join him.”

Karyn leaned to the right and strained to see the widow. Hard to guess what kind of woman David had married; in their bookselling days, she would have bet he intended to ask Susan to be his wife.

But she couldn’t speak of those things now. Some topics, like the dead, ought to be buried and shut away.

As a small organ played a reverent closing song, Kevin placed his hand on the polished casket and shivered at the wood’s cool kiss. Mark took the position in front of him, then both grabbed the brass handrails and guided the casket down the aisle. With the other pallbearers, they walked steadily toward the back of the sanctuary where the hearse waited outside the doors.

None of them, he was sure, had imagined they would begin the week this way.

He blinked as he spotted Karyn and Susan in a crowded pew. He hadn’t seen Susan since college, and something in him warmed to know she was as beautiful as ever—maybe even more so. She caught his eye, smiled a silent and sympathetic greeting, then pressed a crumpled handkerchief to her mouth as if to stifle a sob.

He glanced at Karyn and nodded out of sheer politeness, but as he shifted his gaze to the back of Mark’s blocky head, he couldn’t deny that his ex-wife was looking good too. New York apparently agreed with her.

He would have liked nothing better than to stick around and catch up with his old friends, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to reminisce with Karyn, especially without David around. “Payne the peacemaker,” Lisa often called him, because the guy had a knack for settling the girls’ tiffs and subduing Mark’s trigger temper.

But the peacemaker had smoothed his last argument. He could hardly imagine a group meeting without David, but they’d have to get along without him.

If they couldn’t be civil to each other today, maybe they could retire to their separate cities and pretend the circle had never been broken.

A lump rose in Lisa’s throat as Mark and Kevin passed by her pew. Her old flame and her secret crush—good grief, how long had it been since she’d used
that
word? She waited until Mark passed, then lifted her hand and wriggled her fingers. When the action caught Kevin’s eye, his lips parted, then he smiled and inclined his head toward the vestibule. She experienced the nod as if his hand had touched her shoulder and nudged her toward the lobby.

She pressed her palm to her chest, hiding her thoughts behind a sorrowful mask while her blood brimmed with adrenaline. Kevin wanted to see her! Of course, he’d want to see the others, too, but for one instant, at least, he’d singled her out.

She lowered her gaze as the casket rolled by on silent rubber wheels. Her feelings were wrong, so wrong. How could she be thinking of Kevin at David’s funeral? These emotions were inappropriate and badly timed. She should be focusing on the deceased, remembering all David meant to her.

A subterranean quake lifted the hair at the back of her neck when she remembered her recent dream. Standing here, viewing his casket, the dream felt prescient. But she didn’t believe in omens or superstition; her pastor said such things were satanic.

The dream had to be sheer coincidence. After all, occasionally she had dreamed of the other girls. And Kevin visited her sleep every few weeks. The eerie timing of her dream of David was a fluke, nothing more.

She turned toward the double doors at the back of the church as the organ music faded. Through the open lobby she saw the pallbearers stepping aside to allow the funeral director to guide the casket into the hearse.

She smiled reflexively when her eyes crossed a familiar gaze, but the man watching her wasn’t Kevin; it was Mark. His hazel eyes creased in an exaggerated expression of joy that was probably meant to flatter her.

What had she ever seen in him? They’d dated only a few months, but now Mark was gobbling her with his eyes, looking as though he might come down the aisle and sweep her into his arms at any minute.

She gave him a tight smile, then looked away as a sense of unease crept into her mood like a wisp of smoke.

When the crowd began to disperse, Susan nudged Karyn, then pointed to the thin blond near the back of the church. “Look who else made it.”

“Lisa!” Karyn spoke in a hushed tone. “When did she come in?”

“After us, obviously.” A wry smile tugged at the corner of Susan’s mouth. “She’s late as always. Some things never change.”

She led the way out of the pew, then pulled Karyn through the crowd until she was close enough to tap Lisa’s shoulder. Lisa turned, then cried out and melted into Susan’s embrace.

“I’m so glad you came,” Susan said. “How in the world are you?”

Lisa pulled away, then swiped tears from her lower lashes. “Not too good at the moment.” She opened her arms to Karyn. “But you both look great.”

“
Great
is a relative term,” Karyn said, hugging Lisa. “But we’re glad to be here. We’re only sorry it took a funeral to bring everyone back together.”

Lisa pulled out of Karyn’s grasp, then tugged a crumpled tissue from her purse. “I’m still in shock. I can’t believe it.”

“None of us can,” Susan said. “Did you see the guys? Kevin and Mark are both here.”

A flush warmed Lisa’s cheeks as she patted her eyes. “I saw them.”

Susan couldn’t help but notice Lisa’s hands. She’d never been the froufrou type, but her hands had never looked this bad. The nails were short and ragged; the knuckles cracked and red. She wore a tiny gold ring on her pinkie finger, but no other jewelry.

Had she never married?

Susan linked her arms through her friends’. “Come on, girls. Let’s get through this, then we’ll have a chance to catch up. I want to hear about everything you’ve been doing the last twenty years.”

They followed the crowd out of the sanctuary to the sidewalk, where a damp drizzle was leaving dime-sized splotches on the black hearse. Susan peered through the vehicle’s wide windows and realized that under that spray of white roses lay the man she would have married . . . if he’d asked.

Lisa nudged her out of her memories. “I think that woman is David’s wife.” Discreetly, she pointed to a small woman on the sidewalk. “Julia Lawson—I heard she kept her maiden name because she established her medical practice before they got married. That’s her little boy.”

Susan groaned as fresh dismay ripped through her. “That adorable child is David’s
son
?”

“Nicholas,” Karyn said. “I read his name in the program.”

“I suppose we ought to say something to the widow.” Lisa raised her hand in a futile effort to block the rain. “But I’d really like to sit and talk to you two.”

“All in good time.” Susan lifted her chin. “But yes, we have to speak to David’s wife . . . if we can get through this crowd.”

Their progress halted when a fortyish woman in a yellow raincoat abandoned all decorum and pointed at Karyn. “I don’t believe it! Aren’t you Lorinda Loving?”

Karyn’s face locked in neutral, though she had to be ticked off by the woman’s nerve. “I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken.”

The woman planted herself firmly in Karyn’s path. “But you look exactly like her! You even
sound
like her!”

“Ma’am”—Karyn’s brows rushed together—“Lorinda Loving is a fictional character. I can assure you I’m not her.”

The woman tipped back her head and laughed. “Oh my stars, I can’t believe it! Of course you’re not her; you’re the actress. Kara Ball.”

Karyn looked at Susan and rolled her eyes.

Susan rose to the occasion. “Excuse me, but we have come to pay our respects to our friend. If you have any discretion at all, you’ll keep your observations to yourself.”

The woman stopped grinning as suddenly as if someone had thrown a switch; then she stared, speechless, as Susan moved away and led her friends toward the line of mourners waiting to speak to Julia Lawson.

“How awful,” Lisa whispered, her hand half-covering her mouth. “Do you get that a lot, K?”

Karyn shook her head. “Not so much. Hardly ever in New York, unless I’m near the tourist destinations or the Naked Cowboy.”

Susan gasped. “
Really
?”

“Not really. The guy wears Skivvies and plays guitar around Times Square.” She grinned at Susan. “Hey, you were pretty good back there. Did you learn the fine art of the brush-off in one of those Southern finishing schools?”