Flashback (2 page)

“With no regard to your own safety, I see.”

She replied wearily this time, “It’s my life, or death, as the case may be, and surely not your concern? I’ll be off the property shortly, as I am just crossing to the other side.” She made a move as if to pass him on the path. He remained immovable. She stopped impatiently.

“Hmn, also rude at four in the morning,” his voice said, oddly amused. “Grace told me that you were extremely reserved, but she didn’t mention the rudeness.”

“Rudeness is a matter of perspective,” she murmured calmly, though her whole being churned inside. Why wouldn’t he just get out of the way and let her go past? She needed to run, to let out some of this volatile emotion, to try to get exhausted. “When one is polite, one generally wishes for people to treat oneself with that same politeness, hoping for friendliness in a universally starved way that humans have, along with a constant need for support and approval. I do not have those kind of expectations, aspirations or inclinations, and therefore I do not especially care if I am rude or not.” She turned as she’d given up getting past him and halted as if jerked by a puppet string at the sound of his laugh.

“Such big words!” he mocked. “I wonder if you know what all of them really mean, and if you really mean what all of them say?”

Not bothering to reply, she started again down the path that took her back to the small, silent house and went quietly inside to the darkness.

Finding her way on the ground floor, she went into the living room at the front of the house and groped her way to an armchair, which she sank into, sighing. The rest of the night, she knew from past experience, would be sleepless. She had no one to share her fears with, no one to share a madness that was mad even to her.

Her mother was a good, kind person. But she’d had her share of troubles lately and couldn’t be expected to shoulder the burden of Dana’s problems forever. She’d done so much for most of Dana’s younger life, and it was time that she had the chance to do what
she
wanted to for a change. Just because her daughter felt emotionally crippled didn’t mean that it should cripple her, too.

Dana stared into the blinding darkness. She was glad that her mother had got a teaching position for the fall and would be starting back to work. Now with her father gone and herself much older, her mother needed outside stimulation and her own interests. There was enough money from her father’s life insurance, left to them jointly, to insure that neither would have to work again. They weren’t rich, but there was enough money to pay the bills since the house and the land were owned outright. This was done with Dana in mind, and she knew and was grateful. But her mother needed a purpose.

Her mother was troubled by the nightmares. She never said, but of course Dana knew. She wished that she could ease her mother’s fears, but she couldn’t even ease her own. She felt so helpless.

God, she didn’t know how to handle it.

Dana looked up as her mother came down the stairs that morning. She smiled thinly. “Good morning, Mom. Can I fix you breakfast?”

Denise looked at her daughter sharply, noting the purple shadows under her eyes and the grey shade of exhaustion colouring her face. “No,” she said gently. “I’ll fix breakfast this morning. What do you want—bacon and eggs?”

Dana shook her head slightly. “No, thanks. I think I’ll just have juice and toast today. Besides, there are only two eggs left in the refrigerator. I was planning on walking to the store this afternoon.” She stood and followed her mother into the kitchen. “I’m sorry I woke you last night.”

Another quick glance from her mother. “That’s all right, dear. No sleep again?”

Dana said shortly, “No. But I’m not really worrying about it.” Blatant lie. She was amazed that her mother couldn’t feel the lie from her, because she knew that she was transmitting it like a live radio. “It’ll go away when it’s ready to go away and not before. I expect that will be soon though since the nightmares are fading already. The one last night was less clear and less intense. In fact I can barely remember it, now.” Another blatant lie, but her mother seemed to be well relieved because of it, and so she felt well justified for telling it.

Later on she walked to the grocery store, a short distance that gave her plenty of exercise and a chance to get out into the mellow sunshine. The wind was still howling, rustling trees and swaying bushes, and the warmth from the sun pulsed down on her bare head, making her lethargic and sleepy. She bought a few items, enough to fill their refrigerator with a few essentials but not too much for easy carrying. She was well known at the store for she went in all the time, and the shopkeeper’s wife, Mrs. Simms, chattered to her determinedly until Dana managed to slip away. Once outside she turned to walk back along the sidewalk and came up hard against a lithe, hard body. Sunlight glittered a moment in her eyes, bright and dangerous, and then she realised that she was looking into the hard, reckless eyes of a young man named Mick, who lived down the street from her and had just graduated from high school. His daredevil attitude and insolent behaviour had repelled her more than once before and now, as his hands came out to her arms automatically and touched her skin, she realised with a jolt just how close he was to that fine edge of danger. It was in his bored, frustrated eyes, and the hard, hurting grip of his fingers. She shivered as if she had a chill. The burning sun lit on dust motes that were dancing crazily in the air.

“Excuse me,” she said stiffly, trying to back away from him and get away from his touch. His hands tightened even more on her arms, though, and for the moment she was trapped. She hissed with pain.

“Well, well,” Mick drawled, looking her up and down consideringly, insolently. “What have we here? Little Miss Snobbishness, isn’t it? The one who always keeps to herself as if she’s too good for anyone else. What’s happening, little lady, or are you too stuck up to answer me to my face?”

“You always did have foul manners, Mick, and I can see that you haven’t changed,” she said coldly, looking at his hands with a sardonic raised eyebrow. “Excuse me. I have a lot to do and you’re obviously blocking my way.”

“Now, now, now,” he chided mockingly, his hands sliding higher to cup the soft flesh of her upper arms. “Is that any way to be neighbourly?” His hands tightened. She would have bruises later. “Surely even you can be nicer than that. Come on, show me how nice you can be, hmn?”

“Let go of my arms, you bug, or I’ll drop this five pound can of coffee on your foot,” she said, between her teeth, furious at how he was toying with her. He paused deliberately, laughing down at her tight expression, but there must have been some kind of hint in her eyes at how close she was to the edge of her control, for he then stepped back out of her way. He bowed her on past with that same insolent, mocking grin. She just looked at him contemptuously, refusing to show how she’d been shaken, and without another look or word walked right on by.

She walked on briskly back to the house, smiling occasionally at the different children that shouted and ran around with the wild abandonment that summer vacation invariably brought about. She had just reached the rather long sidewalk to the house when something impelled her to turn around slowly and look behind her.

A man was standing there some distance away, just watching her, still. She was far enough away so that she should not have been able to see his features very distinctly, but somehow she could. Brown hair, left long at the neck and short on his forehead, fluttered in the breeze and blew across his face. He looked to be in his thirties or thereabouts, and his face was distinguished by two lines running from nose to mouth, carved deeply. Another strong clean line between his brows, sensual lips, and dark eyes completed the face, and she then knew that she was seeing him with her mind and not her eyes. She just stared at him as he stared at her. Then she deliberately turned away and walked quickly to the house.

So that was their new neighbour, Mr. Raymond, she mused. She’d known almost immediately who he was, and was in fact a bit surprised that if she was that sensitive to him, then why hadn’t she seen him more clearly last night? But then she had been a bit distraught last night, and preoccupied. The vestiges of the nightmare had clung to her mind like an old spiderweb, and she hadn’t been thinking clearly.

Once inside she quickly and neatly put away the things she’d bought and then, restless and needing some solitude, she ran lightly up the stairs to her room and retrieved her drawing pad and pencils. She would do some sketching today. Her fingers were itching to put something down on paper.

She called out to her mother as she went out of the back door and then looked around indecisively for a moment. She decided that she would trek over to a favourite resting place of hers. The movement and the solitude, as she headed for the path that would take her towards Mrs. Cessler’s property, helped to ease the tight band of tension that had been holding her in a muscle clenching clamp for the past few days. She was striding through dark blue shadow and bright yellow patches of scattered sunlight as great pine trees loomed overhead. Brown pine needles cushioned the path and covered the ground all around, with lacy light green ferns sprouting in the protecting shade. She wasn’t paying attention to the lush, familiar scenery. She was engrossed in her thoughts, harking back to her ever-present fears, being haunted by that part of herself that set her apart from everyone else.

The ground angled up, the path leading to higher ground, and she was breathing slightly heavier as she finally broke from the trees and came out in a little clearing that jutted out into a crumbling, rocky cliff that plummeted a good forty feet to uneven, unyielding granite. There were even more pines growing down below. The clearing at the top of the cliff was a good twenty feet in a rough diameter, fairly well secluded and providing an excellent view of the surrounding land. With the attitude of one intimately familiar with both the view and the clearing itself, she threw herself down on the ground underneath a monstrously huge pine, and she propped herself against its trunk while she gazed out over the entire scene, sighing.

Loneliness. This place was so utterly lonely. She liked it. Nobody ever came this way, situated as it was on the border of their land and the Cessler property. And it was usually a good place to find some sort of peace and relaxation, secluded as it was. But for some reason today peace eluded her. She was too keyed up. Her restless fingers moved, opening her drawing pad to a blank sheet, and her nimble hands picked up a pencil, moving over the page, stroking efficient, quick lines over the white. Her eyes roamed over the view and then clouded over dreamily. She let her mind go free.

Footsteps on the path. She turned her head sharply at the sound, her concentration broken, her newly attained solitude abruptly shattered. Feeling invaded, she tensed and gritted her teeth, deciding determinedly to stay. Her eyes were stony now and no longer dreaming and soft. She turned back to the view, fingers tight against her pad of paper and her pencil. It snapped and she started with surprise.

The footsteps sounded closer, and then they stopped close by her. She said without looking around, “Mr. Raymond. Good afternoon.”

A pause. A bird up in her pine tree chittered noisily. “Good afternoon, Miss Haslow,” he then replied, voice deep, expressionless. “So this is a favourite haunt of yours?”

“Yes.” Her hands fell to her lap and lay idle. Should she get up and leave after all? The sun was shining but she sensed a darkness in this man that had nothing to do with the day. Her legs tensed, as if she were about to run a race. “If you would like, I’ll keep away after this. I don’t mean to intrude.”

Another pause, and she heard him move. “A generous offer, coming from someone who has roamed this land for years, and quite a change in attitude from last night. No, don’t bother to get up. I don’t feel I have the right to order you off the property and it wouldn’t be kind if I did.”

Her hands trembled. “Thank you.” Something was quivering in the air right in front of her, something intangible and ethereal and yet something so real that she would have staked her life on its existence. She sensed that, even as he was speaking to her courteously, his mind was on something entirely different, a vital thing, not having to do with her. His mind was clamped on that something with the tenacity and desperation of a fighting dog. For the first time since he’d joined her, she looked up. “I apologise for my lack of manners last night. I was tired and on edge.”

“Insomnia does that to a person, I know. Please don’t apologise. As I recall, I was not too bright or cheerful, myself.” He was staring out over the view, his dark head lifted to the breeze as if he were seeking something. The wind gently stirred his hair. She felt rather than saw his sigh and knew that he was relaxing slightly. It enabled her to unclasp her hands, and the tight band around her chest eased also. It was then she realised that it wasn’t her own tension she was feeling, but his.

Crouching at his feet like she was and staring up at him, she saw how the line of power from the slim curve of his hips to the broader, solid curve of his shoulders was emphasised. She wondered how strong he really was. His head tilted and he considered her briefly, the sun putting his face into shadow and lighting the edges of his hair, and then he sat down beside her, draping his hands to dangle them carelessly from his raised knees. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to escape, but felt unable to get up and leave just yet. She jerked her head around to stare back out over the land. A large black bird soared overhead. She thought that it was perhaps a hawk, but wasn’t familiar enough to identify the kind.