personality after the accident. He was nice and polite and hard-working before. After the injury, he swore all the time, couldn’t hold a job very well. Dad said Phineas is the reason the science of neuroscience exists. People realized the personality is partly in the frontal lobe because of him. But don’t be impressed by Deacon’s nerdy art. He was trying to make a skeleton for Halloween. He popped a hole in that skull like a balloon, and then he pretended it was supposed to be Phineas Gage.”
“Hush, wench,” Deacon said. “I totally meant to do that.”
Allison rolled her eyes and let them get back to work.
What a picture-perfect life they led—a successful art gallery and studio in a quaint and scenic coastal town steps from the beach and half a mile from dense old-growth forest. More than that, however, Allison simply envied Deacon and Thora because of Deacon and Thora. Thora sat at her desk, Deacon hovering behind her chair as they quietly planned the weeks and months ahead—a gallery showing in Vancouver, a seminar Deacon would teach at a local college in summer. They were a brother-sister dream team, good partners making a successful business together. Even after Dr. Capello passed away and Roland returned to the monastery, Deacon and Thora would still have this shop and each other.
“Done,” Deacon said as he came out from behind Thora’s desk. “Sorry that took so long.”
“It’s fine. I love your store,” Allison said. “This place is like my dream come true.”
“You want to own a glass studio?” he asked.
“Bookstore, but close enough.”
“Why don’t you head home and check on Dad,” Thora said to Deacon as she switched off her computer. “I want to catch up with Allison.”
Deacon gave Thora a quick questioning look but then it was gone again in a flash.
“Sure,” he said. “See you two at home.” He headed out the door. A few seconds later, Allison heard his motorcycle rev up and disappear down the road. Thora locked up and they walked to Allison’s car together.
“I am sorry about almost, you know, burning my hand off,” Allison said once they were inside her car.
“We have liability insurance,” Thora said with a wave of her hand.
“Should I head straight home?” Allison asked. “Or do you need me to take some detours so you can drill me longer about Roland?”
“Ah,” Thora said, wrinkling her nose. “Busted. Well, you better take a detour.”
Allison headed south to Cape Arrow but didn’t rush.
“There’s not much to talk about,” Allison said.
“You two did sleep together, right?”
“We’re adults, and he’s already told me he plans on going back to the monastery. I know what I’m doing.” She hoped she did, anyway.
Thora nodded and stared out the car window as Allison drove.
“Was it weird to see him again?” Thora asked.
“It was,” Allison said. “Good weird. I was pretty in love with him when I was a kid.”
“Yeah, you were,” Thora said. “Made me nervous.”
“Nervous? Why?”
Thora shrugged. “You were both kids, but he was almost five years older than you. I didn’t want you getting your heart broken.”
“Not twelve anymore,” Allison said.
“True,” Thora said. “Thirteen years is a long time ago and you were what, twelve? Do you even remember us?”
“I remember the good stuff,” Allison said. “Roland reading to us and letting me turn the pages. All of us playing Mario Kart and Deacon beating the pants off us every time. And you taught me to ride a bike.”
“Right. In the school parking lot,” Thora said. “You and me and Dad. We made the boys all stay home because they made you so nervous.”
“They were too competitive,” Allison said. “I wasn’t trying to win the Tour de France.”
“What else do you remember?”
“Oh, lots of things,” Allison said. “What I don’t remember is my fall and the days before it happened.”
“You don’t remember what happened before?”
“All gone,” Allison said. “Nothing after the day, ah...you all went to the park and Roland and I stayed home. Why?” Dr. Capello had asked her the same thing, what she remembered before her fall. Same answer. Nothing.
“Just curious.”
“Do you remember the day I fell?” Allison asked, trying to keep her eye on the winding highway and watch Thora’s face at the same time.
“I remember hearing Dad scream. I ran out of the bedroom and saw Dad kneeling over you on the floor. It was terrifying.”
“You ran out of the bedroom?” Allison asked.
“Yeah, I was in there...reading. Or something.”
“You weren’t outside?”
“No, why?”
“Deacon thought he remembered you were outside with him when it happened.”
“Oh,” Thora said. She smiled but it was a brittle smile, like it was made of thin glass. “Yeah, that’s right. We were outside together.”
Allison smiled, though her stomach tightened.
“Long time ago,” Allison said. “Easy to forget things.”
They drove on a little longer and Allison stayed quiet. She wanted Thora to do the talking. Thora hated silence, always had. Eventually she’d open up again and say something.
“I’m worried about you staying with us,” Thora said.
“What? Why?” That wasn’t what Allison had been expecting, not at all.
“Dad’s dying. You don’t want to be around for that, do you? I’ve lived with him all my life and I don’t want to be around for it.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“I’m...I’m very happy to see you again,” Thora said. “I could cry I’m so happy. I thought... I was scared you were gone forever. But for your own sake, not mine, I think you’d be better off going. It’s not going to be pretty.”
“I won’t overstay my welcome, I promise.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Then what are you worried about?” Allison asked.
“Oh,” Thora said. “The usual. Everything. Roland especially. I’m my brother’s keeper.”
“And sister’s?”
“Maybe,” Thora said. She reached over and squeezed Allison’s knee. “If you stay, I’ll want to keep you.”
“You wouldn’t be the first person to keep me.”
Thora looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “You have dirt to tell your big sissy?” Thora batted her eyelashes.
“If you want dirt, I got dirt.”
“Good dirt?”
“Sex with a horny billionaire dirt.”
Thora raised both hands and shook them in frenzied excitement.
“That’s the best kind of dirt. Head south. I don’t care if we end up in Big Sur, I gotta hear this,” Thora said as she took off her cardigan to get comfortable. It was then that Allison noticed something hanging off the belt loop of her jeans.
A little can of pepper spray.
Chapter 16
When they arrived back at The Dragon, Thora disappeared upstairs into her bedroom and Allison did the same. It was a relief to be completely alone again. She’d gotten used to spending her days by herself, and she’d probably talked more in the past twenty-four hours than she had in the last few weeks combined. She hadn’t asked Thora about the pepper spray. She’d never thought of coastal Oregon as a high crime area, but she couldn’t blame any woman for wanting to have a little protection on her. Still...it seemed odd that Deacon would want both his sisters to carry pepper spray. What was he afraid of around here?
The quiet and the solitude didn’t last long. Roland knocked on her door about an hour later, and by that time, she was ready for company again, especially tall, broad-shouldered, handsome company.
“Hey, you,” she said as she let him into her room. “How’s Dad?”
“Resting and reading,” Roland said. “You?”
“
Reading and resting.” She sat on a white wicker rocking chair in the corner of the room. Roland sat across from her on the bed.
“You had fun with Thora and Deacon?” he asked.
She considered asking him about the pepper spray but decided to keep that to herself for now.
“Did they tell you I nearly killed myself today?” she asked.
“What made you think touching nine-hundred-degree molten glass was a good idea?” he asked.
“It was cute.”
“Third-degree burns, however, are not cute.”
“True,” she said, nodding sheepishly. “It was so odd, though. It looked like normal glass, but when it fell it was goo.”
“The first time Dad sculpted glass with Deacon, he said it felt like messing with the brain again because it’s not quite solid, not quite liquid and really dangerous.”
“I can see that,” she said, recalling how unnatural it felt to be able to pull and mold thick heavy glass like putty. “I promise to remain a spectator in the future.”
“Please. Deacon’s tattoos are half art, half covering up burn scars on his arms.”
“Thora saved me,” Allison said. “I owe her.”
“She’s a good kid,” Roland said. “So...are you freaked out?”
“About almost burning my hands off?”
“About last night.” He looked adorably young and uncomfortable sitting there on the bed, not quite meeting her eyes.
“Last night was lovely,” she said, and stretched out her legs and rested her feet on Roland’s thighs. “You freaked out by it?”
“I had a moment this morning when I woke up in bed with you. And you were there all naked and beautiful, and I thought, Yup, gotta go to confession today.”
She laughed. “Did you?”
“I’m keeping a list. When I have an even dozen, I’ll hit up Father Larry for absolution.”
“How many sins do you have on your list?”
“After last night, two more,” he said.
“Need a hand reaching a baker’s dozen?” she asked.
Roland raised his eyebrow at her.
“You’re bad,” he said, pointing his finger at her. “It’s the middle of the day.”
“Ever heard of a nooner? McQueen used to squeeze me in between his breakfast and lunch meetings. You can squeeze me in before dinner, can’t you?”
“I’d rather take my time.”
“You say such sweet things,” she said. “But I know how wicked you are.”
Roland’s eyes widened. “What did you hear?” he asked. “Do I want to know?”
“Deacon said you, him and Thora used to smoke pot up in the attic.”
Roland’s head fell back in annoyance.
“That was years ago. Years,” he said. “We haven’t done that since I was a teenager.”
“You sure about that?” she asked. “You’re being awfully defensive.”
“Not once in eleven years,” he said.
Allison tapped her foot on his leg.
“Okay, maybe once,” he said. “Right after I came home from the monastery. Deacon made me do it.”
“That better be on your sin list for Father Larry.”
“It is, promise.”
“What else is on your sin list?”
“That’s between me and Jesus.”
Allison took her feet off his lap and stood up in front of him. He put his hands on her waist and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
“Here,” she said. “One more for your list.”
She kissed him, a deep kiss but a quick one. When Roland returned the kiss, Allison pushed him onto his back.
It didn’t take much more than that to convince Roland to squeeze her in before dinner. She crawled on top of him, but Roland rolled her onto her back. He stripped her clothes from her quickly but not quick enough for her. She unzipped his jeans and guided him into her before he even had time to take his flannel shirt off. He slowly moved into her and she groaned with pleasure. Roland buried his face between her breasts and laughed softly.
“What?” she said.
He lifted his head and put a finger over his lips.
“Dad’s directly above us,” he whispered.
“Oops,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I’ll try to be quiet.”
“Thank you,” he mouthed, and started moving inside her again. She pressed her face to his chest, relishing the warmth of his body and the feel of his flannel shirt on her cheek, soft and well-worn with age and too many washings. But she wanted to feel his skin against her, so she quickly undid one button at a time while he braced himself over her, then pushed it down and off his arms.
He was good at being quiet while making love, and she wondered if that was simple discipline or embarrassment. McQueen had made her shameless, so it wasn’t easy for her to stifle her moans and gasps, especially when Roland touched her throat the way she loved. A groan escaped her lips and Roland pressed his hand over her mouth. She giggled behind his palm and felt his laughter rumbling through his body.
“Shh...” he breathed into her ear, and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling again. Roland pushed two fingers into her mouth and in an instant the room disappeared, transformed into another darker room. The blue bed was gone and she lay on a bare cot. The air was no longer light and cool and salt-scented from the open window, but hot and close and musty. And it wasn’t Roland’s fingers inside her mouth but something hard and cruel, shoved between her teeth.
Allison turned her head to gulp air and Roland rose up over her.
“You okay?” he asked, his eyes wide and worried.
“I’m fine,” she said, panting.
“You don’t seem fine.”
“I think...I think I gagged on your fingers.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“No, it’s okay,” she said. “I’m fine now.”
She kissed him to prove she was okay, but he didn’t kiss her back at first. Had he seen the truth—that she’d been on the verge of full-blown panic? That she’d suddenly disappeared into what felt like an incredibly vivid memory? Eventually he returned her kisses and she relaxed underneath him. But the magic was gone from the moment. He came a few minutes later but she couldn’t. Afterward she slipped on Roland’s flannel shirt and rested her head on his chest.
“Okay, time to tell me what happened there,” he said as he stroked her hair.
“I don’t know.”
“Something happened.”
“I...” She rested on her elbow and met his eyes. “I had some kind of flashback or something.”
“A flashback? Of what?”
“Nothing that makes sense,” she said. “I was on some kind of cot, like a hospital bed, and someone was pushing something in my mouth.”
“Do you remember what?” Roland asked. He searched her face as he spoke and she saw the concern in his eyes.
“It tasted kind of like...plastic?” she said, shaking her head as if she could dislodge a memory like shaking a Magic 8-Ball.