Vision of Darkness (5 page)

“And you’ve…seen…her?” Alex asked.

“I’ve heard her. She bangs around the kitchen, walks up and down the stairs, and sometimes I even smell whatever she’s cooking. Pork, usually.” At his dubious expression, she laughed. “Now you think I’m crazy. It’s all true. She was a real person. I have her picture hanging in my stairwell. Her grave’s at the cemetery.”

“No, not crazy.” He shrugged. “I know a lot of people believe in that sort of thing. I’m just not one of them.” 

“Stay one night in the lighthouse and I bet you’ll change your mind.” She realized, again too late, how much that sounded like an invitation and cursed her carelessness. The way he was watching her, like she was the most interesting and beautiful woman in the world, made her stomach jitter. Whether it was nerves or lust, she didn’t know. Probably a combination of both.

He reached for her hand again, gave it a light squeeze. “I’d like that, Pru.”

“I didn’t mean it as an invitation.”

“Not yet,” he said with a slow, devilish smile.

She tried to pry her hand free, but he held it for just a moment more before letting her go. She worked up a scowl. “You’re pretty damn sure of yourself there, buddy.”

“No, I’m realistic.” He ran his fingers along her jaw—it was as if he couldn’t stop touching her—and smiled when she stiffened. “Have dinner with me, Pru.”

“I thought you were leaving town.”

“I’m in no hurry. Especially if someone convinces me to stick around.”

She glanced away. “I can’t.”

“Why not? I don’t see a ring on your hand.”

She looked down at her empty finger and felt a twinge in her chest. It still hurt, she realized. Even after six months, it still hurt that Owen’s ring was not there anymore. She curled her hand into a fist and jumped down from the ledge. She paced away from Alex. Then, feeling like a coward for avoiding his gaze, she circled back to face him.

“Listen, I just got out of a bad relationship.”

“Me too. Besides, who said anything about a relationship? I enjoy your company and I don’t know anyone else in town. I just want to have dinner with you.”

And sex
, she thought. She shook her head. “We both know where dinner would lead.”

He opened his mouth, she assumed to protest, but he surprised her by not denying it. His mouth closed again and he rubbed a hand around the back of his neck. “Well, yeah, probably. Would that be so bad?”

“Yes.” Pru sighed when he scowled. She’d hurt his fragile male ego, but she didn’t have time to nurse the pieces back together. Her half hour was almost up.

“I have to go back to work.” She handed him the sunflower. “Please, just stay away before something happens that I’ll regret.”

It was probably better this way, she decided as he stared after her with a mixed expression of aggravation and bewilderment. At least he wouldn’t be popping into the diner for a visit again.

She hoped.

***

That was a first.

Alex rubbed his unshaved jaw, feeling almost as if she’d slapped him. How did he manage to completely fubar everything he said to her? Usually the pickup was the easy part for him. Knowing what the hell to do with a woman once he’d had her was the part he sucked at.

He looked at the sunflower. Its perky petals beamed back, bright as Pru’s smile. Frowning, he tossed it aside.  

Forget her.

Why was he even chasing after a skirt right now anyway? He had bigger things to worry about than getting laid.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he started down the street to his car. He didn’t need this sort of aggravation in his life now and he certainly didn’t need her—but, Christ, who was he kidding? Need and want were two entirely different concepts and he wanted her.

Bad.

He hadn’t been able to stop touching her. Like an addict needing a constant fix.

Desire thrummed in his blood and he only had to close his eyes to see it, the two of them coming together, hot and panting and desperate to be flesh to flesh.

He stopped walking and growled as the fantasy thickened in his groin. Need and want were two different things, and in this case want won. He had never before felt this pull—no, it was more violent than that, he decided, like a yank—toward a woman. It was such a strange sensation that he refused to leave Maine without exploring the possibilities of it first. Besides, it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go now that he was jobless.

Alex snatched up the sunflower from the spot it had landed on the sidewalk and stalked toward the diner. Pru stood behind the counter, cashing out a customer at the register. He tapped on the window to get her attention and saw a becoming flush fill her cheeks as everyone turned to watch. He held her gaze as he threaded the sunflower through the door handle.

“I’m not leaving,” he said loud enough that she’d hear through the glass. Then he turned, nodded to Mrs. Mallory, who stood on the sidewalk behind him, and walked to his car.

***

Pru made sure she was busy with an order when Helen marched up to the counter with the sunflower in hand. Of all the people that had to be present for that spectacle, why did it have to be the mayor’s nosy wife? How mortifying.

“What was that all about?” Helen demanded.

“Nothing.” Pru snatched a coffee pot from the warmer and refilled the line of empty and nearly empty cups at the counter.

Miranda, carrying a load of dirty dishes to the kitchen, snorted as she passed. “Nothing? Yeah, and my tush is flat. That city boy has his pretty gray eyes on our Pru.”

“Does he?” Helen twirled the flower once and pursed her red-painted lips. “How unfortunate for you, dear. Beauty is such a curse.” With a flick of the wrist, the sunflower sailed into the wastebasket beside the counter.

Pru stopped herself—barely—from retrieving it. Did she want to look like she was completely gone over Alex? Because she wasn’t. She didn’t even know him. Instead, she picked up the plate of fried clams waiting in the order window.

Helen gave a dainty, disapproving sniff. “I hope you know, dear, a tryst with a man like that will only end badly.”

She knew, which was why she’d tried her hardest to tell him off. The man was obstinate, frustrating, and…dammit, oddly sweet. She shot a glance toward the discarded sunflower, wishing she didn’t want to pick it up.

Miranda pushed through the kitchen door and moved to toss a paper towel in the trash. A large fist squeezed Pru’s heart in protest and a distressed noise slipped out. Miranda sent her a knowing smile and shoved the towel into her apron pocket. Helen tsked.

Miranda scowled at the mayor’s wife. “Is there something you need, Mrs. Mallory?”

“I’m looking for my son.” Her gaze landed on Kevin, still brooding in the corner booth. Without another word, she marched over. Kevin sank lower in his seat like a chastised teenager.

“Good riddance,” Miranda said. “I pity Kev, though.” She shook her head once, then gave Pru a gentle nudge in the ribs with her elbow and took the plate of fried clams. “I got this, hon, but I think the garbage needs emptying.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll do it.” Feeling silly, but unable to stop herself, Pru scooped up the trashcan and hurried through the kitchen. Out back, she plucked the flower from the nearly empty can and cast the rest into the dumpster. Triton, lying in his customary sunny spot, thumped his tail twice.

“I know, boy.” She sighed and straightened one of the flower’s crinkled petals. “I’m a sentimental fool.”

CHAPTER 5

When Pru pulled into her driveway that evening, three men—John Putnam Jr., Wade Putnam, and David Faraday—stood in her backyard beside a black, Ford truck, studying a large stump that lay on its side next to an even larger hole in the ground. The stump’s tangled roots clawed at the sky like skeletal hands digging out of a grave. It would be a suitable Halloween decoration, she mused, if she actually got trick-or-treaters. But if the myths surrounding the lighthouse weren’t enough to keep them away, then the drive up the steep, winding driveway was. She wasn’t even going to bother buying candy this year. She’d be the one who wound up eating it, and a bag of Reese’s, yummy as they were, would not help the size of her ass.  

Pru parked her car and reached for the sunflower wedged between the front seats in its makeshift plastic vase. It was so pretty, staring at her with its bright, yellow petals, its dark head turned a little to one side as if in question, and her heart turned to putty all over again.

Damn you, Alex.

She hesitated, biting down on her lip, and glanced at the three men in her yard. John Jr. dug two cans of beer out of the cooler by his feet and tossed one to David Faraday, who sat on the tailgate of the Ford. They popped the tabs, clinked the cans, and each took a long, deep pull, their tanned throats working. Wade, who was a head taller than the other two and looked as if he’d been welded of steel rather than conceived and born the natural way, squatted by the hole in the yard and boomed with laughter.

No, she’d just leave the flower here for now. Her feet hurt, her back ached, and a headache already pounded on her brain, so the last thing she needed this evening was to answer more questions about the “city boy” that had made such a spectacle over her this morning.

Damn you, Alex
, she thought for the hundredth time but there was no longer any heat to it. Instead, it made her smile. Yeah, he was a slick one all right. She had to be careful or he’d have her heart before she realized it.  

She left the sunflower, slid from her Jeep, and opened the back door for Triton. “C’mon, boy.” The retriever sprang from the vehicle and loped over to the men, tongue lolling and tail wagging.

She followed. “Hi, guys. Got any more of those?”

“Sure do.” John Jr. fished another can out of the cooler and tossed it to her.

“So,” she said after popping the tab and taking a drink. She studied the stump. “You finally got that baby out, huh?”

“You bet!” Wade embraced Triton, who wiggled around him for attention. “It put up a fight though. J.J. almost rammed your porch with his truck.”

“You’re not supposed to tell her that, stupid.” John Jr. gave his brother an affectionate shove with his foot and man and dog went sprawling into the grass, much to the delight of them both.

Pru studied the wraparound porch she’d just had painted. “You don’t listen to your brother, Wade. I’d really like to know whenever he does something boneheaded like that.” 

“Well, then I should tell ya about last summer—”

“Wade,” John Jr. interrupted and gestured to the clouds gathering along the horizon, dark billows over the ocean already flashing with lightning. “We need to get our equipment packed up before that storm makes landfall.”

Wade’s eyes widened. “Uh-oh.” He patted Triton on the head, then hopped to his feet and sprinted around the other side of the house.

“Uh-huh,” Pru said with a smile. “What should he tell me, John?”

“Nothing.” John Jr. finished off his beer and tossed the empty back in the cooler. “Really.”

“Riiight.” She rolled her eyes as a blast of wind rustled the leaves on the trees bordering her property and brought the clean, cold scent of rain in from the ocean. She turned and gazed out over the water. “First storm of the season.”

“Yup,” David said and finished off his own drink. “It’s going to be a big one too.” He clapped John Jr. on the shoulder, gave it a little squeeze. “I’m gonna head out, boss. Try to beat the storm back to town. See ya Monday.”

Pru waited until David backed out of the drive and gave the horn a tap in farewell, then turned to John Jr. “So?”   

He avoided her gaze by picking up the cooler and placing it in the back of his Ford, then rearranging the heavy chains they’d used to pull up the stump. “So what?”

“You know.” When he still didn’t look at her, she flapped her arms. “Miranda! Have you asked her out yet?”

His face reddened. “I don’t wanna ask her out.”

“Bullshit. I see it in the way you look at her at the diner. You want her.”

He choked. “I, uh—She’s with Rhett. Everyone knows that.”

Pru scowled. She’d forgotten that complication, but wasn’t about to give up her decade-old mission to hook her cousin up with her best friend. John Jr. was homespun handsome with his blond hair, soft blue eyes, and a body honed by years of hard construction work. So he was shorter than Miranda liked her men and terminally shy when it came to women. He still had a lot going for him. His own company. His truck and a boat the size of a small yacht, both bought with cash. One of the nicest houses in town, a Victorian on Penobscot Street he restored himself. Beyond his material worth, he was funny. Caring. Honest to a fault. A far better man than Rhett Swithin could ever dream of being.

“Forget Rhett,” Pru said. “They’re not officially together. You still have a shot.”

“He’d kill me,” John Jr. said and gazed out over the ocean, his expression lined with regret.

Probably. She slung an arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “You can’t think like that, cuz. Who she dates is her choice, but she’ll never notice you unless you make her notice. She’s just that way. That’s why she’s attracted to Rhett. He’s not happy unless everyone within a mile notices him.”

John Jr. scowled. “If I have to act like that blowhole to get her attention, then it’s not worth it. I’d rather have my pride.”

“You can have both. You don’t have to act like Rhett. Just be yourself and be confident and she’ll notice.” She elbowed him in the ribs. “Want me to give her a little nudge in your direction?”

His eyes all but popped out of his head. “God, no! I don’t need my baby cousin setting me up. Jesus, talk about a hit to the pride.”

She laughed and pushed him away as thunder rolled in on a blast of wind. “You should get going before the storm hits. I’ll help Wade finish picking up.”

John Jr. took a step toward his truck and hesitated, gazing up at the house. “Maybe you should come stay with me. I don’t like the thought of you up here by yourself during a storm.”

“I’ll be fine. Besides, I won’t be by myself. Wade’s right out in the carriage house if I need help.”

“Yeah, but Wade’s …” He looked at the side yard, where Wade stood at the edge of the cliff, a coil of rope over his brawny shoulder as he stared out over the beach as if dumbstruck. John Jr. grimaced. “Wade’s retarded.”

“John!”

“Well, dammit, I hate to say it as much as you hate to hear it, but we both know it’s the truth. Just because Dad refused to have him tested and officially labeled doesn’t make it any less true. If the storm gets bad, you can’t count on him not to freak out on you.”

Pru sighed, knowing he was right. Wade was sweet and tried his hardest to be helpful, but he was like one of those big, dumb dogs that jumped at his own shadow. In a crisis, he’d be no help, but she didn’t think the storm rumbling toward shore now counted as a crisis. She shooed John Jr. toward his truck.

“We’ll be fine. It’s not the first storm I’ve weathered in this lighthouse and it won’t be the last.”

“It’s the first for him. Maybe I should hang around tonight…”

“You wanted your pride, John, so let the man have his. God knows, he doesn’t have much else.” She gave him a reassuring hug. “You’ve spent your whole life looking out for Wade. You’re a good brother, but he needs some independence. The carriage house is the perfect place for him to get it without being completely on his own.”

He frowned. Pru held his face in her hands and kissed the furrow that worry had gouged between his brows. “Give it some time. He may decide he doesn’t like being on his own and move back in with you, but let him make that decision, okay? I’ll check up on him tonight and if there are any problems, you’re only a phone call away.”

John Jr. looked at Wade again, still stuck in the same spot at the edge of the yard with his mouth hanging open. The wind whipped Wade’s unkempt hair around his face as the first drops of rain fell, but he didn’t seem to notice, transfixed as he was by whatever he saw down on the beach.

John Jr. sighed and opened the door of his truck. “I get that he wants privacy, I do. What I don’t understand is why he wants to stay here, of all places. No offense.”

“None taken.” Pru crossed her arms as the wind pierced her coat and raised goosebumps on her skin. “I think he just wants to be closer to Cappy.”

His gaze strayed toward the lighthouse tower, then jerked away. “Yeah. Well.” He climbed into his truck and started the engine, then leaned out. “Any problems, call me.”

“Sure thing. Hey, John?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. You’ve been great about this whole reconstruction, considering Cappy….” She let the sentence trail away, unsure of how to finish it.
Killed himself
sounded too harsh. After all, she was talking to the man’s child. It had to be hard to know his father was so tired of life that he willingly climbed to the top of the tower, looped a rope around his neck, and jumped to his death.

John Jr. tried to shrug it off, but his eyes darkened and he stared at his steering wheel for a long moment. “It’s what Dad would’ve wanted. He loved this place.” He wagged his head as if to shake away the memories. “I’ll be back tomorrow to get that stump out of here and fill the hole.”

“No, it can wait until Monday,” she started to say, but he’d already shut the door and put the truck in drive.

She waved goodbye, then edged up to the hole. It was deeper than she expected, bordered with jutting rocks and broken roots. Triton ambled to her side and gazed into the hole then up at her as if to say,
what’s this?

“No.” She snagged his collar, got down on her knees and looked him in the eye. She pointed at the hole. “No.” His tail wagged. She held his gaze, pointed again, and said firmly, “No.”

Triton’s shoulders hunched, his ears flattened, and his tail tucked between his legs. Satisfied he wouldn’t stray near the hole, Pru rubbed his head and grimaced at the dark pit. With all the accidents that plagued the lighthouse’s reconstruction, maybe it was a good idea to have it filled in as soon as possible. She really didn’t want to see anyone else get hurt. It was bad enough that in the past month alone, five of John Jr.’s workers had left the site in an ambulance, two with life-threatening injuries. Thank God neither man died and both were on their way to making a full recovery. Pru didn’t think she’d be able to handle more death on her conscience.

Thunder bellowed, closer, louder, and the wind splattered raindrops on Pru’s face. Shivering, she got to her feet and looked around for Wade. He stood rooted in the same spot, in the same position.

Poor Wade. Sometimes his brain needed a jumpstart to remember what he was doing. She started toward him just as he shook off the trance. He threw down the coil of rope and sprinted across the yard, over to the wooden stairs that carved a path down the side of the cliff to the beach.

“Wade!” She tried to catch him, but his legs were longer and for all his bulk, he was fast. Heart thudding, she scanned the beach, searching for whatever he’d seen that made him take off like that. In the distance, where the cliff gentled into a rolling slope, sat a tent, already battered by the wind, and a sputtering fire.

A campsite.

And Wade headed for the unsuspecting campers like a bulldozer.