"Adorable," Lulu said sourly. She felt sour - and preferred blaming it on Sam rather than on not being able to sleep well since her Saturday-night hallucination.
"But be that as it may . . . " Mia patted Sam's cheek absently, then started to turn away. He took her chin in a firm grip. "You're playing me," he said softly. "You want to make this a game, then I should warn you. I don't always play by the rules now. "
"Neither do I. " She heard the back door open, close. "Ah, there's Nell. You'll have to excuse me, Sam. I have work. As I'm sure you do. "
She nudged his hand away, then walked over to meet Nell as she came in. "I'll take that up.
" Mia scooped the first box of baked goods out of Nell's arms. "Smells fabulous. " She sailed up the stairs with the scent of cinnamon rolls floating behind her.
"Um. " Nell cleared her throat. Walking into the tension had been like walking into a wall. "Hello, Sam. "
"Nell. "
"Well, I've got . . . more," she managed, then escaped out the back again.
"In case you haven't noticed," Lulu said, "we're not open for business. So get. "
He could still taste Mia. With his mood hot and ripe for trouble, he walked to the counter and leaned over close to Lulu's scowl. "I don't give a damn if you approve or disapprove. You won't keep me away from her. "
"You did a good job of that yourself these past years. "
"Now I'm back, and we're all just going to have to deal with it. " He strode to the door, yanked it open.
"If you want to play guard dog, there's something a hell of a lot more dangerous than me you should be snapping at. "
Lulu watched him stalk across the street. She wasn't sure there was anything more dangerous to Mia than Sam Logan.
No family. The wine-and-junk-food-induced hallucination had been wrong about that, she thought. She had family. She had a child. Lulu glanced up the stairs where Mia had gone. She had a child, she thought again.
He canceled his first meeting. A man had priorities. He drove up the coast road. Through sheer will he held his temper and his speed in check.
But he could do nothing about the shock and horror that careened through him when he saw the skid marks. Inches, he thought as he got out of his car on rubbery legs, just inches more and she'd have been into the guardrail. The right speed, the right angles, and her little car would have toppled right over it and down the unforgiving face of the cliff.
He followed the pattern, scanning the road, scenting the air for anything that lingered. He knew she liked to drive fast, but she'd never been reckless. To go into a spin such as the one indicated by the tire marks smeared over the pavement, she'd have had to be doing ninety.
Unless she'd had help.
Cold fingers ran over his spine because he was certain now that was what had happened. Something had shoved that spin along, pushing her toward the edge.
If she hadn't been strong enough, smart enough, fast enough, she might not have come out of it whole. He studied the roadbed where a black scar marred it, like an old, festering burn. It oozed, like oily blood, as he watched. And as he watched, he felt the dark energy that emanated from it crawl over the air.
Mia had been more shaken than either of them had realized, he thought, to have left this. Going back to his car, he popped the trunk, selected what he needed. With his tools in hand, he took a long look up and down the road. It was deserted. A plus, he thought, as what he needed to do would take a little time.
He circled the scar three times with sea salt, and the ooze smoked where it spilled into the ring. With his power cold and clear inside him, he used a birch wand for cleansing. As he sprinkled both bay and cloves for protection, the scar bubbled and hissed. And began, slowly, to shrink.
"No one who passes now need fear. You can do no more harm here. Dark back to dark as light breeds light. Safe passage here by day and night. " He crouched as the scar closed in on itself. "I will guard what is dear to me," he whispered. "As I will, so mote it be. "
He returned to his car and drove over the shadow of the scar toward Mia's house. He'd needed to see it, and had resisted. But he couldn't afford to wait for her invitation now. It was so much what it had been, he thought as he studied the gorgeous ramble and spears of stone. And so much more. More Mia, he realized as he again got out of his car. The flowers, the budded shrubs and great trees. The gargoyles and faeries. The breeze stirred wind chimes and strings of crystal into constant music. The white tower of the lighthouse stood like an ancient sentinel, guarding both island and house. And she'd planted purple pansies at its feet. He followed the winding path of stepping-stones around the side of the house. The sea beating on the rocks drew both his mind and his heart toward the cliffs and made him remember how many times he'd stood on them with her. Or come upon her standing there alone.
But as he walked he glanced around, then stopped, staggered.
Her gardens were a world. Arches and arbors, slopes and flows. Stone paths softened by moss spreading through the cracks meandered through rivers and floods of flowers. Some were tender with spring, some already reigned.
Not just blooms, he realized, but the green. There were so many tones and textures of it that each spill or shimmer of pink or white, yellow or blue against it added a wonder. There were pools of water, the glint of copper from a sundial, the charm of a dancing faerie twirling in the shrubbery. He could see benches tucked here and there, some in sun, some in shade, inviting visitors to sit, to enjoy.
He couldn't imagine what it would be like when the young plants burst into full summer bloom, when the vines finished their climb up the arbors. Couldn't conceive of the color and shape, the perfume. Unable to resist, he wandered along some of the stone paths, trying to imagine how she had done it. How she had turned what had been a pretty, if pedestrian, garden, a stretch of manicured lawn, and the single formal terrace he remembered into a celebration.
And he wished, foolishly, that he could sit and watch while she tended one of her beds. The house had always been beautiful, he thought now. And she had always loved it. But he remembered it as somewhat staid, and very formidable. She had made it a place of pleasure and beauty, warmth and welcome.
And standing in the midst of Mia's personalEden , with the fragile scents, the trill of birds, the thunder of the surf, he understood what she had created, and what he had never found. Home.
He had had the luxurious, the adequate, the tasteful, and the efficient. He had looked for, but had never found, his place. Until now.
"A hell of a note, isn't it?" he murmured. "To realize she had hers, and mine, all along. "
Since he didn't know what to do about it, he went back to his car to finish what he'd come to do. He would add his own charms of protection to Mia's, and make her - and hers - doubly safe. He'd just finished when he spotted the island's patrol car coming up the road. Watching it, he dropped a small silk bag of crystals back into his coat pocket. His initial pleasure at the prospect of seeing Zack flipped over to irritation when Ripley got out of the car.
"Well, well, isn't this interesting. " Simmering, and delighted to be so, she tucked her hands in her back pockets and swaggered toward him. The bill of her cap was angled low over dark glasses. But he didn't need to see the whole of her face to know it was hard as stone.
"Here I am, on routine island patrol, and what do I find but a nefarious character. And find him skulking around on private property. " Smiling fiercely, she unhooked her cuffs from her belt. Sam eyed them, eyed her. "Not that I don't have a soft spot for a little bondage now and again, Rip, but you're a married woman. " When her lips peeled back to show her teeth, he shrugged. "Okay, bad joke. But so are those. "