Shades of Atlantis (28 page)

Amanda and Ben showed endless patience and sat with me for hours every day in silence. After a while, they began coaxing and prodding me, bringing me back to life. Eventually they wore me down, so I did make an effort. I became an expert in the pretense of normality, appearing to the outside world to be a perfectly happy young woman.

I never saw Joshua again, since I’d still been unconscious when he left.

I tried to contact him, but it was as if he’d dropped off the face of the earth.

I guessed maybe he didn’t want to be found, or maybe he blamed me in some way for Caleb’s and Seth’s deaths. The restaurant closed, and what remained of Caleb’s house was torn away from the hillside, leaving a gaping hole in the landscape. I talked Ben into borrowing a boat one Saturday in late summer and taking me out on the lake so I could see it for myself. The reality of it crushed me, but I refused to let it show; I didn’t want Ben to feel bad for taking me there. Jonathan and Jen went off to Boston in the fall as they’d planned. I thought I’d miss them more than I did.

Eventually, I had to get away. I felt conflicted about leaving Camden in the end. It was the only home I’d known since I was a small child, but it was haunted for me now. Carmel and Lewis reluctantly understood; Ben sulked for a week. I promised to e-mail and phone so much he would be sick of hearing from me, and of course he could visit. I could fly him over now that money was no longer an issue for me. Caleb thought ahead and left me well provided for in a will he had drawn up days before he died, almost like he knew something was coming.

I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do here. Amanda had studied design for a year already and was planning to finish her course work through night classes in a college here. She managed to get a job her first day. Our split-level apartment was bright and airy with high ceilings and a modern kitchen, and though it came ready-decorated, she wanted to add some of her own touches. The owner of the interior design accessory shop we visited was a tall elegant woman with immaculate hair and nails, and she was so impressed with the way Amanda effortlessly threw items together, along with her infectious enthusiasm for design, that she gave her a job on the spot. It paid off Amanda had already set up four new clients. They seemed impressed with her work despite her consistently disheveled appearance and tardiness.

The coffee shop was busy, but I managed to grab a seat in the corner next to the window. One of the waitresses brought over an iced lattÈ and placed it in front of me. I kept my glasses on and dug around in my bag to retrieve a tourist guide before I commenced flicking through it. Two hours later I was still nursing my second lattÈ. I rubbed my temples, massaging the ache; it was improving.

When I glanced around the coffee shop, my eyes stopped abruptly on a young man shuffling a newspaper. He was looking toward me coyly but shifted his eyes back to the newspaper when I caught his eye. I blushed; I had seen him there other days but had never noticed him noticing me. I sensed him looking again as soon as my eyes were turned away and spontaneously smiled to myself before returning my focus to the street outside.

I hadn’t dated anyone since Caleb died. I didn’t know if I would ever want to. Anyway, even before Caleb, flirtatious situations mortified me, and from the color rising in my face, I didn’t think that was going to change today.

I was still thinking about Caleb when my heart began to pound uncontrollably. My hand instinctively flew to my chest. My eyes darted around, searching before I even knew why, landing on the figure of a man across the street. He was standing behind a Land Rover parked along the curb.

I couldn’t make out his face, he wore dark glasses and a baseball cap, but there was something familiar in the way he moved, the way he rested his elbow on the front of the jeep. He was almost obscured from my view by the now-opened driver’s door. Something about his body — my eyes widened, and I tore the glasses from my face, flinging them to the table. Missing it completely, they landed with a clatter on the floor. He was getting in the driver’s seat.

The businessman with the newspaper was suddenly beside me, bending to pick up my discarded glasses from the floor. My breathing was coming in quick gasps. I stood and brusquely pushed him out of the way.

Hey, your things! he shouted after me, but I was already out the door.

I only managed to get as far as the near side of the street on the crowded pavement before I stood, breathless, and watched the jeep pull away.

A hand touched my shoulder, and I turned quickly to see a pair of bewildered brown eyes staring at me in dismay.

You ran out and left your things.

I couldn’t answer.

His forehead furrowed. Are you okay?

Yes — yeah, I finally replied, accepting my belongings from him.

Are you sure? He studied my face, trying to work out my expression.

I smiled at him, not sure if it seemed sincere. Yes, really, thanks. Very stupid really. I just thought I saw someone I know, but it couldn’t have been — The truth of my words hit me like a punch in the stomach.

You’re American. He smiled brightly.

I started digging through my bag again, this time looking for my phone.

Eh, yeah.

Forgive me, he said hesitantly, but you don’t appear to be okay at all.

You seem rather frantic, actually.

I looked up, and he was grinning widely at me. I frowned. I presumed he meant I looked like a lunatic but was being polite. I took a deep breath.

I’m sorry, really I’m fine. I don’t normally go running after strangers.

Neither do I, he responded in a soft British accent as he continued smiling at me.

I smiled back, genuinely this time. He was sort of handsome, really. Not that I looked at men in that way anymore. He had large, expressive eyes and sandy brown hair, cut short and neat and showing his sharp jaw line and high cheek bones. He looked more like an actor or model; maybe my assumption about him being a businessman was wrong.

I would feel a lot better if you allowed me to buy you some tea, he offered, inclining his head to the coffee shop. His expression was honest and open, kind.

I looked down and pretended to busy myself with my bag again. Oh, no. That’s okay, really, you’ve been so helpful already, I answered politely.

Em, he mumbled, playing with the strap of his watch. Well, you see, the thing is — I’ve noticed you a couple of mornings this last week, and I was planning to introduce myself.

Oh. I winced. He was trying to ask me out. I looked up at his face through my dark glasses. His eyes were innocent and boyish. They reminded me of being at a pound where some little puppy would be looking at me, pleading with me to take him home.

Well, I suggested, looking at my watch. It was just past twelve. I know it’s early, but I could really use something a little stronger. He looked a bit taken aback at first. Then he grinned. Well, you have had a shock. It wouldn’t hurt, for medicinal purposes? 163

Of course, I agreed with a smile.

He placed his hand near my lower back, not touching but as a guide, and lifted his other hand to gesture down the street. Shall we? His accent was growing on me already.

I was right the first time about John Hamilton he was in business.

Several in fact. He owned the coffee shop I went to every morning for a start, along with a few more. He dabbled in property development, but at twenty-five he wasn’t as young as I had first thought.

When he was nineteen his parents died in a car crash, something I could relate to. He left college to set up his own business and take custody of his nine-year-old sister, and all the responsibility made him mature and level-headed. He quickly became a fixture in my life, despite my total bluntness regarding any prospect of a romantic relationship. He seemed happy to keep my company and hope for the best.

Everything was easier with John around. He didn’t ask about what happened the first day we met, and I didn’t volunteer that particular information.

I was embarrassed to be chasing after some random stranger, thinking he was my dead boyfriend. I knew how it would sound, even though the truth was boyfriend didn’t cover what Caleb had been, and still was, in my life.

Triona, have you heard from Ben lately? Amanda’s voice from the other room sounded vaguely agitated.

It was an unseasonably hot September evening, and John and I had been out visiting museums all day. He was sitting at the end of the couch in my apartment, watching some generic monster movie on TV and massaging my tired feet. It was so relaxing I almost forgot about the pain in my head. Amanda was in her room, checking some e-mail before heading out for the evening with her boss to a housewarming for some place they had redesigned. The full-length window was open, letting the warm air gently bellow the sheer drapes into the room. Amanda stomped out of her room in the process of hastily stuffing some makeup into a tiny sequined purse, late as always.

I took my arm away from where it covered my eyes. No, I haven’t actually, I said. He was supposed to call last week.

Oh, she mumbled.

Why?

John was engrossed in the movie, running his hands over my lower legs and ignoring the conversation.

I e-mailed him, and he hasn’t replied, she said. Her expression was hard to read. That was over a week ago.

He’s probably busy, I said, shrugging. Maybe he’s finally got himself a girlfriend.

Oh, maybe, she muttered, heading to the door.

My brother the chick magnet, I laughed.

She let out a strangled laugh before closing the door.

Ben had changed a lot in the last year. He’d grown to over six feet and developed muscles out of nowhere. He had always been good looking, but he was handsome now. Women of all ages flocked around him, even if he didn’t have time for any of them, preferring to hang around with me, my misery, and Amanda. I thought at first it was to keep a watchful eye over me after Caleb, but then I realized he was simply happier when he was around us.

What’s wrong with Amanda? John asked, not moving his eyes from the screen.

I don’t know, I mused. Maybe she’s feeling left out with you here all the time.

He grazed his finger over the sole of my foot, and I playfully kicked his leg.

Hey, he yelled, smiling. Be careful there! You know, you’re kind of freakishly strong — for a girl.

Is that so? I laughed. My head was clearing, finally.

Yeah, it is. He nodded, rubbing my leg again.

I jumped up in a flash and threw myself across him, running my fingers over his sides. Well, you’re freakishly ticklish for a guy. John convulsed with laughter, and his face lit up. The sound was infectious, and I couldn’t help laughing with him. He tried to reach for me, but my reactions were far too fast for him, and I repeatedly moved out of his range. He fell sideways, and we both rolled off the couch, screeching in laughter. I had him pinned to the floor, sitting astride him and holding his hands over his head. For such a big guy, he wasn’t much in a fight. He looked up at my face, breathless and grinning.

I like this game, he teased suggestively.

That caught me off guard, and I looked away in embarrassment. He took the opportunity to make his move. Seconds later I was lying on the floor with the full force of his body weighing me down.

I like this even more. His voice became hushed and serious.

I laughed nervously; his weight was restricting my breathing. He didn’t laugh. His breath was on my face, and I could feel his heartbeat quicken.

He face moved closer to mine, and I froze. I kept my eyes on his until he was too close, then I closed them, sensing that our lips were about to meet.

Don’t, I murmured.

He stopped but didn’t move, his lips still hovering dangerously near to mine.

Please. I felt a sharp pain in my heart and tears welled behind my closed eyelids.

John pulled back and lifted me to my feet. He didn’t appear to be upset or feel rejected like I would have expected. Maybe he didn’t want to kiss me as much as I thought.

Let’s go for a walk, he suggested brightly.

I grimaced at him, then looked downward to my tired feet and protested.

We’ve been walking all day, and it’s going to rain. John pushed me down to the couch and handed me the shoes I’d removed earlier so he could rub my feet. He laughed.

What makes you think that? he asked. It’s lovely out. There isn’t a cloud in the sky.

I slipped the shoes onto my feet reluctantly. I can smell it, I grumbled.

We took a walk down a tree-lined residential street toward Clerkenwell Green. John kept me close to him with his arm around my shoulder. Clouds had begun to gather like I knew they would, and I couldn’t help smiling to myself with satisfaction.

I have to tell you something, he admitted seriously and gave my shoulder a light squeeze. I loved listening to his accent. I looked up to him and put one hand on his chest; his heart was beating a little faster than usual.

What? I prompted, smiling. Spit it out.

He took a deep breath and blurted, Amanda filled me in about Caleb. His gaze fell to the ground.