rt, thats actually a front for… Never mind, not important.”
She closed her eyes, soothed by the steady stroking of his hand over her hair. “So shes standing there, looking out at the water. Youve got the surf, the breeze, gulls. The writer paints a good picture, so Im seeing it.
“Then Im not just seeing it in my head, in the words on the page. But I dont even realize everything shifted, that Im inside the image in my own head. Thats the scariest part. You dont know.”
She rubbed her hands over her face. “Ive got to get up.” She tossed the throw aside and stood, then as an afterthought tightened the loose belt of her robe. “I was on the beach. Not just thinking about the beach, not just seeing it. I was there. I could smell the water, and flowers. Lilies, there were pots of white lilies. Didnt seem the least bit strange that I was all of a sudden walking over the sand, feeling the sun, the breeze. My feet are bare, my toes are painted, Im tanned and Im wearing this long silk thing, just a wrap. I can feel it fluttering around my legs.”
“I bet you looked terrific.”
She glanced over at him, and for the first time since hed come in, the dimples winked into her cheeks. “Youre trying to keep me from freaking again.”
“Thats a definite yes, but I still bet you looked terrific.”
“Sure I did. It was my fantasy. My own, personal tropical island. Perfect weather, blue sea, white sand, and solitude. I was even thinking, as I walked the beach, how foolish Id been to ever worry about responsibilities. I could do or have anything I wanted.”
“What did you want, Dane?”
“At that moment? Just to be alone, I guess, not to worry about anything. Not to think how upset I was that the evil Joan had manipulated me out of a job I really loved, and how Im a little scared about starting Act Two of the Life of Dana.”
“Thats human. Thats normal.”
“It is.” She glanced back at him—big, handsome Jordan Hawke watching her with those deep blue eyes. He understood she wasnt looking for meaningless words of comfort or sympathy.
“It is,” she repeated, as soothed by his understanding as shed been by his hands. “I walked toward this grove of palm and fruit trees. I picked a mango. I could taste it,” she paused, touching her fingers to her lips. “Basically, I just walked along thinking, boy, this is the life. But it wasnt the life, it wasnt my life. And its not what I want, not really.”
She came back to the couch, afraid her legs might go weak again when she told the rest. “Thats the thought that came into my head—and then I heard voices. Off in the distance, but familiar. And I thought, this isnt real. Its just a trick. Thats when it happened. Oh, God.” As her chest tightened again, she pressed her fists between her breasts. “Oh, God.”
“Easy now.” He closed his hands over hers, squeezing lightly until she met his eyes. “Take your time.”
“Storm came in. Thats a mild word for it. When I realized it wasnt real, the world went to hell. Wind, rain, dark, and the cold. Jesus, Jordan, it was so cold. I starting running. I knew I had to get away, because I wasnt alone after all. He was there, and he was coming for me. I got back to the beach, but the ocean was insane. Walls of black water, fifty, sixty feet high. I fell. I felt him over me, around me. That cold. And the pain. Horrible, tearing pain.”
Her voice was breaking. She couldnt stop it. “He was ripping out my soul. I knew Id rather face anything but that, so I jumped into the sea.”
“Come here. Come here, youre shaking again.” He gathered her close.
“I woke up, or came back, whatever it is. In the tub, strangling for air. The bathwater had gone cold. I dont know how long Id been out of it, Jordan. I dont know how long he had me.”
“He didnt have you. He didnt,” he insisted when she shook her head. Gently, he eased her back so he could see her face. “A part of you, thats all. He cant get the whole, because he cant see the whole. A fantasy, like you said. Thats how he works. And he cant push you into it so deep that a part of your mind doesnt surface again and question. And know.”
“Maybe not. But he sure knows how to go for the gut. Ive never been that scared.”
“Once you move past that into pissed-off, youll feel better.”
“Yeah, youre probably right. I want a drink,” she decided and pushed away from him.
“You want water?” He realized she was coming back fast when the question had her curling her lip at him.
“I want a beer. I never had my bath beer.” She rose, seemed to hesitate. “You want one?”
Still watching her, he laid his fingers on his own wrist as if checking for a pulse. “Yeah.”
He liked the way she snickered at him before she walked away. It was a normal sound, a Dana sound. Thered been nothing normal in the way shed collapsed on him.
If he hadnt come by… but he had, he reminded himself. He was here, she wasnt alone. And shed gotten through it.
He got to his feet, took his first real look around her place. Pure Dana, he thought. Strong color, comfortable furniture, and books.
He wandered after her, leaned on the wall. More books, he noted. Who but Dana would keep Nietzsche in the kitchen? “First time Ive been in your place.”