Vicki Hinze - [Seascape 01] Read online

  “I agree we don’t know what it is, MacGregor, but that doesn’t change the fact that it is. And it doesn’t—”

  “Listen. Shhh, Maggie, listen to me. This isn’t your problem, honey. It’s mine. And I want you out of it. If you go now, maybe—just maybe—it’ll turn you loose.” His muscles coiled into tight knots, and regret seeped through him like a spill soaks through carpet. Hatred spread with it. And guilt. Always guilt. “Don’t you see?”

  “I see plenty.”

  “Oh, Maggie, you don’t.” He hugged her tightly and propped his chin on the crown of her head. “I didn’t want to care about you. I tried not to care about you. But—”

  “No, Tyler. Don’t.” She leaned back, pressed her palms flat against his chest. “Don’t—”

  “How do I stop? I’m flesh and blood, not stone. I needed you and you were there for me.”

  She scooted off his lap, stood before him, her hands fisted at her sides. “Don’t do it. It’ll only end up hurting us both.”

  Slowly, he stood up and looked down at her. “I care, Maggie. What you did got to me. You’ve gotten to me. I didn’t want you to. God knows, I’d never want to risk hurting another woman. But you’ve crawled down deep inside me, anyway, and I won’t pretend you didn’t because you don’t want to be there. And I won’t lie to you because the truth makes us both uncomfortable as hell.”

  “It isn’t that.”

  “It is that.” He huffed a sigh of sheer frustration. “I can’t let you just stroll into the middle of this as if it’s no big deal. You could be hurt. True, I agree, if this entity wanted us dead, we would be. But I think the thing is playing with us, Maggie. To it, it’s play. To us—to me—it’s torture. I’ve been at this for nine months. I know what I’m saying here.”

  “MacGregor, let me—”

  “Damn it, I can’t!”

  She grabbed his arms and squeezed. “Will you shut up and let me say what I have to say?”

  He stilled. The leaves on the fir above their heads rustled in the breeze and the moonlight dappled her skin with light and shadows.

  “I know what you’re feeling, Tyler, and it’s got a lot more to do with having lost your parents and Carolyn and a fear of losing me than is healthy for either of us—even though you don’t love me and all you’re really feeling is a good dose of lust and a little gratitude.” She gentled her voice, lifted her hand from his arm to his face and stroked his jaw. “I do see.”

  His beard’s light stubble being grazed by her hand created friction that heated his skin. He let her see the truth in his eyes, his pain and his fear. “I’ve loved and lost too many people already, Maggie. I can’t say I love you. I don’t. But I owe you, and I care about you. I can’t be the reason I lose you, too.”

  She sighed. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I don’t think we have a choice.”

  He clamped his jaw shut. “Oh, yes. We do,” he gritted out from between his teeth. “There’s always a choice, and I’ve made this one.”

  He turned away from her and strode toward the gazebo. He’d killed Carolyn because he’d ignored the signs and let things go too far. He’d done what was most comfortable for him, so he wouldn’t upset her. But, by God, he would not stand by, feed his own needs and desires, and kill Maggie, too. He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t, not and survive.

  Maggie gave him a good half-hour to come to terms with their situation. Denial, much as she would love it, wasn’t an option.

  She leaned back on the bench and looked up through the brittle, twisted leaves at the sky. Clouds drifted, moving ever on, uninterrupted, unencumbered and, lord, but did she envy them. It was quiet, dark and cold, and why, with all this weirdness surrounding her she wasn’t scared stiff, beating a hasty retreat, and exiting Seascape, she couldn’t imagine. But the truth was she felt at peace here. It’d been a long, long time since she’d felt at peace, and she’d put up with a lot to keep it. But that she’d put up with a mystical entity struck her as nothing short of baffling. How could she explain it to MacGregor when she didn’t understand it herself?

  MacGregor. She sighed.

  She’d lied to him, not told him her relationship to Carolyn, and now she couldn’t tell him the truth. He’d throw up a defense blockade that guided missiles couldn’t break through. And he’d admitted he cared about her. That made her feel guiltier still—toward him, and toward Carolyn. Well, more toward her mother than Carolyn really. It was her mother’s promise and family duty that had gotten Maggie into this, not Carolyn herself. Maggie had tried and tried to be a good pseudo-sister to Carolyn, but she’d failed a long time ago, and Carolyn had given her no alternative but to accept it.

  Maggie stood up. MacGregor’d had long enough to realize they were unwilling actors in this entity’s little drama. They would play the parts given them because that was all they could do. Obviously, this mystical force held the strings like a puppet-master, and she and MacGregor were simply manipulated puppets.

  Manipulated? Maggie stopped. Master.

  “Master manipulator.” Shock stormed through her. “Carolyn?”

  Chapter 7

  No. No! “Absurd.” Maggie gave herself a serious mental shake. “Carolyn is dead.”

  Is she? Maggie’s own voice whispered inside her head. The body in the wreck burned beyond recognition. Are you sure it was her?

  Licking at her lips, she watched a leaf caught by the wind tumble across the ground. “It was her. The dental records proved it was her.”

  What if she switched them? What if she substituted someone else’s records for her own? She could have done it. When it’s suited her, she’s exchanged things before, and you know it.

  “No,” Maggie insisted. “When MacGregor tries crossing the line, there’s no one there. If Carolyn were alive and doing this, he’d see her. Bill and Miss Hattie would have seen her. I would have seen her. No, Carolyn’s dead. She’s dead, and that’s that.”

  You’re right, of course. You all would have seen her—if she were alive. But dead is a relative term, mmm? And, by your own admission, you’re dealing with something mystical here...

  Maggie shivered, shunning the direction her thoughts were taking her. Carolyn couldn’t be a ghost. Maggie couldn’t even be thinking ghosts! That went beyond mystical. Hell, it went beyond absurd!

  She took off toward the gazebo at a good clip. Dead, dry leaves crackled and crunched under her feet, and the hard sounds and jarring steps felt good. “No, there’s a reasonable explanation for this. One that has nothing to do with anything mystical. I overreacted. Panicked. It has to be something logical and reasonable.”

  Like what?

  Maggie stepped over a dead branch. “Like... MacGregor feels guilty and, until he resolves those guilt feelings, he can’t leave. I empathize strongly with him—because of Mom’s situation. Guilt and parents are strong common ground between me and MacGregor. It’s part of the bond. The other part is that we’re attracted to each other. I hate—boy, do I hate—admitting that. But it’s true. And my attraction to him makes my empathy for him stronger. So strong that when he was crossing the line, I felt everything he’d described to me just as he’d described it to me.”

  The wind gusted, tossing her hair. She swept it back from her face and walked on across the grounds. “Because I felt everything so strongly, and saw it so vividly, I panicked and misinterpreted it as real. And, on conveying it all to MacGregor, because he’s attracted to me—and because he feels he owes me for being there to help him out when he needed me—well, he wants to protect me.”

  It made sense. It was logical. Reasonable. And non-mystical.

  She slowed to a stroll, feeling much more at ease now that she’d reasoned it all out. And she had reasoned it out. There was no mystical in the mystical events occurring here. It was emotions. As simple and complex and as awful as that.


  Now, all she had to do was to explain it to MacGregor. And she would...

  Just as soon as she figured out the part about the man’s voice and whispers.

  And just as soon as she figured out why when MacGregor had crossed the line and she’d experienced his symptoms, he hadn’t passed out.

  Ahead, she saw him. Sitting on the little bench just on the Seascape side of the property between it and Beaulah Favish’s place. Moonlight streaked over the bench, casting slatted shadows on the rocky ground.

  She walked over. He must have heard her footsteps because he slumped forward. His elbows on his knees, his head bowed to his hands, he sighed as if resigned, then hauled himself to his feet and shoved his hands deep into his slacks pockets.

  Stopping beside the bench, she waited for him to acknowledge her. When it became obvious he had no intention of doing so, she frowned. “MacGregor?”

  No answer.

  “MacGregor, please don’t shut me out. I’m in this, too, and I’m scared.”

  He lifted his chin and looked out over an island of evergreen shrubs.

  “You can’t ignore me. I won’t go away.” Damn it, why wouldn’t he at least look at her? “I listened to you, now I want you to listen to me.”

  Still no acknowledgment.

  Well, he couldn’t block his ears. “Though I bless you for wanting to, you can’t protect me from whatever we’re fighting.”

  Not so much as a grunt, but at least he hadn’t walked off from her. She let her head loll back, crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t anymore. One minute I can explain almost everything away. The next, I can’t explain any of it, and I know in my heart that something mystical is at work here.”

  He looked at her then, and she nearly cried. Torment etched deep into his handsome face.

  “The way I see it is that if all of this is explainable, Tyler, then we’ve got to work together to explain it.”

  “And if it’s not?”

  She swallowed bitter fear. “Then whatever it is, it’s got us both now, and the only hope we’ve got is each other.”

  “No.” He looked down at her. “I’ve thought about this, and I’ve got a solution. You have to leave. Now. Tonight.”

  Her heart ricocheted as if it were the ball being swatted on a Ping-Pong table. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  She’d give anything not to have to tell him this but, it appeared, she’d have no choice. “No, Tyler. It’s not that simple. I can’t leave and that’s all there is to it.”

  “It is that simple. You pack your clothes, you get into your car, and you drive away from here.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “I won’t leave.”

  “You have to, Maggie. Before you get into the same situation I’m in. Before you want to leave and can’t.”

  “You don’t understand. It’s already too late. I can’t leave.”

  “Why not?”

  She couldn’t hold his gaze. She tried, but she just couldn’t do it. “Because to help you wasn’t all the whisper told me.”

  He didn’t ask. She figured he would, but he didn’t. She glanced up, saw his wooden expression then looked back down at his chest. He wasn’t going to ask, just to wait and accept what she elected to disclose.

  She’d give more than anything, she’d give nearly everything she owned not to have to tell him, but he needed to know. About this, if not about Carolyn, Maggie had to trust him. He deserved the truth and she couldn’t justify keeping it from it. “I pulled you back over the line that day because the voice warned me. I’m not proud of this, MacGregor, but I had no intention of watching you that day. I was headed over to visit with Hatch at the lighthouse. But then I heard the whisper, and it said that this crossing attempt was different from the others. And it was. You were out much longer than any other time before then. Much, much longer.”

  “What else?”

  Not a word about her turning her back on him. She’d have felt better if he’d reamed her ears, yelling.

  “I asked you what else, Maggie.”

  He knew. How did he know? Her mouth went dry. Her throat muscles quivered and her heart hurt. “It said you could... die.” His expression didn’t change. She hadn’t stunned him. “Did you—”

  “Better me than both of us. I want you to go.”

  Protecting her. Still. Knowing his own life was at risk. “I won’t do it.”

  “Yes, you will, honey.”

  She glared at him. “I won’t.”

  “All right. All right, I can’t force you to leave—though I wish I could get you to see that it’s the smartest thing you could do. But I swear if you stay, Maggie, you’ll stay away from me. It’s not much, but it’s all I can do without your cooperation.”

  He meant it. There was no doubt whatsoever in her mind. And, God, did it hurt. “You lied, MacGregor.” Tears blurred her eyes. “You said you cared about me. If you cared—”

  “I do care!” He raked his hands through his hair. “Damn it, don’t you see that’s why I want you to leave?”

  “If you cared,” she went on as if he hadn’t interrupted, “then you’d never force me to face this alone. You wouldn’t do that to me.”

  He looked down at her. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Then surprise flickered in his eyes and he lifted a hand to her face, touched a finger to a tear sliding down her cheek. “Oh, Maggie.”

  She stepped close to him, wrapped her arms around his sides and rested her head against his chest. He had appeared in control, but he wasn’t. His heart beat hard and fast against her face. “Don’t make me go through this without you, Tyler. Please. I’m not that strong.”

  “What have I gotten you into?”

  Slowly, he pulled his hands from his pockets and circled them around her. He was trembling, or was it her? It didn’t matter. They’d be safe together. Somehow she just knew they would. And her mother and Carolyn, well, they would just have to understand. For now, alone, Maggie had stood all she could stand. When this resolved, then she’d worry about keeping her promise. For now, she needed him. She’d seen to her mother’s needs and, for years, she’d attempted to see to Carolyn’s. For the first time in her adult life, Maggie had needs that she couldn’t see to herself. Was it so wrong for her to seek help? Hadn’t she earned a turn at leaning on someone else? On having someone to share her fears with?

  She banked down a flood of resentment at always having to be the strong one. The problem-fixer. The... healer.

  She swallowed hard. The healer. Like Cecelia. “You didn’t do anything, MacGregor. It did.”

  He held her closer, and she gave his sides a squeeze to thank him. She’d half-expected that even pushed he’d walk away from her, and she was grateful he hadn’t.

  “All right.” He let out a resigned sigh that heaved his chest. “Explainable or mystical, we’ll face it together.”

  The moon grew brilliantly bright. The hint of a smile touching her lips, she dipped her chin, leaned back, and saw his shoes. Surprised, she blinked then blinked again. Could she actually be seeing what she thought she was seeing?

  The little ridge of soil from his previous attempt to cross the boundary line hugged his heels.

  MacGregor stood on Beaulah’s land!

  Fighting the glare of the bright sun, Maggie squinted up at MacGregor. “Just humor me.”

  Last night, she couldn’t act on this. She’d needed time to think, to consider the implications for both of them, to have daylight to be sure as certain she saw what she thought she’d seen.

  “No. Not until you tell me what this experiment is all about.”

  She tugged at his arm, led him back across the grounds to the little bench by the stone wall between Seascape and Beaulah’s. Maggi
e didn’t want to explain, to risk getting his hopes up then shattering them. What if she’d made a mistake? She could have been wrong. What if it’d been a trick of the moonlight? Of the entity? Wishful thinking? Or something else entirely? “MacGregor, you’d set a saint to swearing.”

  He stopped beside the bench. “If you’d just tell me why you’re doing this, I wouldn’t be frustrated to the point of—”

  “Okay!” She grimaced at him. “Okay. I’ll make a deal with you. You’re into deals, right?”

  “Depends.”

  “You’ll like this one,” she promised. “You do what I tell you—no questions asked—and you’ll never have to take cold showers here again.”

  He slid her a wary look. “You’re really hauling out the heavy artillery here.”

  She was. “It’s important.”

  He rotated his jaw, rubbed at it with his hand and watched her for a long minute, then lowered his hand to his side. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you!” She slapped her hair away from her face, walked over and sighted the boundary line, looking down the little stone wall for a gauge, then dragged the toe of her sneaker in the cool dirt. She didn’t dare to so much as glance at MacGregor. Her heart was already threatening to pound right out of her chest, and he surely had figured out at least her main intent already.

  She turned back to face him, shaking the loose dirt from her shoe, shored up her courage, hoping he’d put his faith in her, then lifted her gaze.

  Slowly, giving him time to adjust, she steeled herself for his rejection, and held out her hand. “Come here.”

  He let out a sigh of sheer frustration. “Haven’t we tempted fate enough lately?”

  “No questions. You promised.”

  “Maggie, I don’t want to try this again until we get a better grip on what we’re dealing with here.”

  “Think hot showers, MacGregor. Long, steamy hot showers.”