The Shadow and the Rose

  Chapter 9

  His face seemed to cloud over, and he released his hold on her. “Not a very worthwhile subject,” he said shortly, and stalked over to the bike, where he busied himself checking the gauges.

  Dismayed, she trailed after him. Things had seemed to be going so well, and now it seemed that all the joy had gone out of the day.

  And on top of that, she wanted to ask him a favor. Hesitantly, she said, “Tanner, before you take me back to campus, would you mind if we stopped at my house? There’s something there I need to pick up.”

  She was relieved when he answered readily, “No problem. Just show me how to get there.”

  The Craftsman-style house on a hill overlooking the Hiwassee river was small, and under normal conditions it was cozy, with flowers in hanging baskets and rocking chairs on the front porch. But they had given away all the plants when her father was getting ready to leave for Oklahoma, and the rocking chairs and hammock had been stored in the basement. As she unlocked the door, Tanner hung back. “It’s okay,” she said. “You can come in. I’ll only be a second.”

  She was surprised that she felt no sense of, well, homecoming. She had expected to feel as if the house was welcoming her back, happy in her presence. Instead it felt impersonal and chilly, as if it belonged to someone else. She even trailed her hand along the top of her mother’s piano: nothing. Disappointed, she pushed open the door to her dad’s room.

  It, too, felt like a stranger’s. The precarious stack of paperback thrillers that should have been on the nightstand had been tidied away, the bed was neatly made, and there were no crumb-covered plates from late-night snacking. The desk surface looked empty without its usual clutter of laptop computer, legal pads, and books. It was clear that its owner was absent.

  While Tanner waited in the living room, silently studying the family photos on the wall, she entered her own room. Everything was as she had left it: the posters of her favorite movies, the overstuffed bookcases, the bright multicolored quilt that had been a gift from her grandmother back when she was still on speaking terms with the Sumners. When Anna Sumner died, Mrs. Merridew had cut off contact with her son-in-law and granddaughter; whether out of grief or blame, Joy wasn’t sure. Joy couldn’t remember ever having met her grandmother—her only grandparent, since Steven Sumner’s parents were long dead.

  “He was a lot older than Mom,” she told Tanner, joining him where he stood in the hallway, hands in pockets, regarding the framed photos. “It caused some talk. Not just because of the age difference, but because she was still a student when she fell in love with him.”

  “An Ash Grove student, you mean?”

  “Yes, she was even in his senior English class. But nothing happened between them until after she graduated. Right after the ceremony, when she was still wearing her cap and gown, she walked up to him and asked him out on a date.”

  “Wow. That’s some moxie. What did he say?”

  “He was pretty shocked. He’d never thought of her as anything but a student, and he told her it wouldn’t be appropriate. And she said, ‘All right then. I’ll give you some time to start thinking of me as an adult. One year from now I’m coming back to North Carolina, and we’re going out.’” It was one of her favorite stories from the family history. “He claims he thought she’d forget about it after she went away. But she did come back, in exactly a year, and after that they were never apart for more than a few hours. This photo of her was taken on graduation day.” She showed him the framed snapshot she had retrieved from her room. In it her mother, eighteen years old, stood proud and straight in her maroon academic gown. Her curly dark hair was fanned out on her shoulders, and her chin was lifted. She looked like she was ready to take on the world.

  “She sounds really cool,” said Tanner. “Do you remember her?”

  “Yeah, but it’s mostly random stuff. A piece of a song she sang to me, or the way she’d brush my hair at bedtime. That kind of thing.”

  “How did she die?”

  “A car wreck. It just tore Dad up. It wasn’t like she’d been sick and he had time to get his head around the idea of her not being here. Everyone says he hasn’t been the same since.”

  “It must have been terrible for you both,” he said. “You must miss her a lot, too.”

  She felt tears beginning to prick her eyes, and shut her eyes hard to try to force them back. “It may sound awful, but I’ve gotten used to not having her here. But I really do miss Dad.” The tears would not be forestalled; they came rolling down her face, and she swiped at them savagely with the back of her hand. “I don’t have anyone else. If I lost him too…”

  “Hey,” he said softly, and touched her hair. “Hey.”

  “I’m just sure he’s keeping things from me, that he’s a lot worse than he lets on. He wouldn’t want to worry me, but I’m so scared he’ll never come back.” She was crying in earnest now.

  She felt a light touch on her shoulder, and then he was gone. As she tried to get control of herself, she could hear him moving around in the kitchen. In another moment he was back, holding out a plastic bottle of filtered water.

  “Drink this,” he said. “I guess your water’s turned off, but I found this in the pantry. Go ahead. It’s really hard to cry and drink at the same time.”

  Gratefully, she obeyed. The gulping sobs eventually subsided into small hiccups, and he kept talking, giving her time to collect herself. “I’ve heard some of your mom’s music, actually. I downloaded some of her songs last week, and I’ve been listening to them a lot. She must have really been something—talented, gutsy, beautiful. I’ll bet your dad’s really glad that you take after her.”

  “Ha!” she said through her sniffles. “I only wish I did take after her.”

  “But you do. You definitely have her chin. Pointed and determined.” He grinned. “A chin that says you’ll give hell to anyone who crosses you.”

  “Yeah, that’s me all right.” She found a tissue and blew her nose. “Old give-’em-hell Sumner.”

  “It’s nice that you’re so close to your dad, anyway. I wouldn’t cry if mine was sick, that’s for damn sure.” He studied her for a moment. “Are you going to be okay?”

  She nodded. “You’re going to think that all I ever do is cry,” she said ruefully. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to see me again.” What had made her say that? She hadn’t meant to give him an out. She waited nervously to see if he would take it.

  At first she thought he might not even have heard her, because it took him a moment to answer. “Last week,” he said at last, “at the dam… you cried for me. I don’t know if anyone’s ever done that before, and it meant a lot. So no, you haven’t scared me off.”

  “I just wish I could be of some use to you,” she said. “To get free of her, I mean. I wish I could help you more.”

  “You do help. Just being with you helps.”

  She dropped her eyes to hide how much it pleased her to hear that. “Have you thought about just leaving?” she asked. “Just running off?”

  “It wouldn’t be any use. She’d find me, and when she’s angry, she—no, I can’t risk it.”

  She hoped he would say more, but instead he glanced back at the framed photo in her hand. “Did you get everything you came for?”

  “Yes, but the other thing is for you.” She set the photo down and dug in her jeans pocket. “Bend down some so I can reach.”

  Puzzled, he did so, and she reached up to fasten a thin silver chain around his neck. With his face so near hers she was deeply aware of him—the faint shadow of beard on his jaw; the fine modeling of his mouth; the clean woodsy scent of him. She could feel his breath, gentle against her cheek, and the desire to draw him to her and kiss him was almost overpowering. Her hands were slightly unsteady as she sprang the catch of the neck chain and stepped back. Making a move now, when he trusted her, would be the kind of thing Melisande would do—and Joy was determined not to give him any reason to associate the two of them.


  He felt for the pendant and tried to hold it up where he could see it, but the chain was too short. “It was my mother’s,” Joy explained. “It’s carved from rowan wood. It’s supposed to protect against evil things. I thought you could use it. You know, for luck.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want to keep it?” he said in surprise.

  She shrugged. “Call it a loan. You can return it to me after your birthday, how’s that?”

  “Deal,” he said, and smiled.

  When he dropped her off in front of her dorm, Gail Brody wasn’t there, but Sheila and several of her crew were just emerging from inside. They stopped short and stared as Joy climbed down from the bike, and she knew at once that there would be even more gossip about her and Tanner. She stood well back from him in case he was thinking about a goodbye kiss. The sacrifices I make for my reputation, she thought wryly.

  “I wish I had a way of getting in touch with you, in case I come up with anything that could help you,” she said on impulse. “What’s your email address?”

  But he shook his head. “It’s better that you don’t email me. It’s safer for us both if you stay off her radar.”

  “You mean she checks your mail?”

  “I’ve never asked,” he said. “But I assume she knows about everything.”

  “Including you taking me for rides.” That brought a queasy feeling to her stomach.

  “Probably. But that I can spin. I can’t spin a paper trail like texts and emails.” He gave her a reassuring smile, and then his gaze flicked to the girls standing and watching. “See you on Beltane,” he said clearly, so that they were sure to hear, and winked at her before he opened up the throttle and rode away.

  She tried to hide her smile. Tried, but failed. Sheila gave her a disgusted glare and Alissa hissed, “You have got to be kidding!” But some of the other girls were looking at her with something closer to hero worship.

  Joy just gave Sheila and Alissa a serene look. “I guess we’ll just see, won’t we?” she said.

  She had too much on her mind to go back to her room, where she would either be alone with her thoughts or have to put up with Maddie giving her disapproving looks. Fortunately it was almost time for dinner, and she could talk things over with William.

  But by the time she had finished serving and took her tray to the usual table, William had gone. Clark was there, along with Tasha, who had made a rare weekend trip to campus in order to put in some practice time on her Beltane performance. “William’s gone back to the music building,” she explained. “He told me to tell you hey, but he really wanted to keep working on some new project.”

  “He’s always either missing meals or walking out of them,” Clark confirmed. “I feel like a mother hen sometimes, reminding him to eat something. So, what did you want him for?”

  “Oh, just to get his take on something. It’s just that I saw Tanner again this afternoon…”

  “Ooh, a date postmortem? I’m much better at them than William. C’mon, dish.” He patted the chair beside him, and she sat down, uncertain.

  Tasha’s response was more guarded. Her initial dislike of Tanner still showed. “So I take it things are getting interesting?”

  “He’s going to the Beltane dance with me. But this isn’t really about Tanner. It’s about me.”

  “You’re having second thoughts, and think he’d be happier with a dashing blond drama student? I couldn’t agree more,” said Clark.

  “Stop it. No. This is serious.” She was aware, though, that it was going to sound absurd when she put it into words. Maybe she should have held out for William after all. “Well, you’ve seen him, you know how gorgeous he is. And I guess anyone who’s around him will just naturally want to stare. But I feel like I’m ogling him, treating him like a sex object. And I don’t want to do that. He’s not an object, he’s a person.”

  Clark reared back and stared at her in disbelief. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You consider it a problem that you enjoy looking at a hot guy? It must suck to be you, Joy.”

  Tasha, at least, took her seriously. “But you don’t think of him like a sex object, do you? You have actual conversations and stuff, right? Your relationship—okay, whatever ‘ship’ it is, friendship, what have you—isn’t just based on his looks.”

  “No, of course not, but it seems wrong. It’s one thing to admire a statue, but when it’s a person—I just feel so shallow.”

  “Well, do you look at other men the same way?” Tasha asked reasonably.

  She thought about some of the other good-looking guys she knew. Nicholas. Blake. (Actually, every one of Maddie’s ex-boyfriends.) And, at Melisande’s, there had been Saxon, and Raven, and many, many others. “I don’t have the same feeling about them,” she said consideringly. “I enjoy them as eye candy, but they don’t take my breath away like Tanner does.” She made herself say it. “You have to swear not to repeat this, but sometimes when I’m with him I’m afraid I’m turning into a sex fiend. I just can’t stop imagining kissing him and… so on.”

  A delighted Clark was clearly on the verge of asking what “and so on” meant, so Tasha cut him off. “But you don’t feel like that about other good-looking guys?” she asked.

  She shook her head. The only other guy she had felt this kind of attraction for was William’s older brother, the one who used to take her for rides on his motorcycle when she was a freshman. She’d had a huge crush on him, but even then she could see that he wasn’t in the same league, aesthetically speaking, as—

  “You mean he was a dork,” said Clark bluntly. “You don’t need to be tactful; I’ve seen the boy. You know what I think this is?”

  “What?”

  “Baby’s first lust.” He put a hand to his heart and pretended to blink back tears. “My little girl’s all grown up.”

  “Oh, shut up,” said Joy, fiercely embarrassed. She wished now she’d never brought it up.

  But Tasha, thank goodness, could still be relied on. “I don’t think you need to worry,” she said. “It sounds to me like the reason you find Tanner so attractive” (“Besides the fact that you have eyes,” said Clark) “is because you have feelings for him, and not the other way around. And that’s about as far away from objectifying him as you can get.”

  “Hmm.” She wasn’t convinced, so Tasha tried again. “What if he was in a horrible, disfiguring accident, like Mark Hamill but worse. His face is messed up, his body is scarred, his hands are maimed—”

  “Jeez, cut it out, that’s horrible.”

  “Would you still want to be around him then? Or would you cut him out of your life and never see him again?”

  She imagined him in a hospital bed, bandaged and broken. The feeling that welled up in her was not revulsion, or disappointment, but pain that he was so hurt. “Of course I’d stick with him! I couldn’t leave him just when he needed someone the most.”

  “I know you wouldn’t. But I mean later, when he’s recovered, but he doesn’t look the same. Would you still feel the same about him?”

  She tried to imagine it, but she couldn’t picture Tanner not looking like Tanner. “I just don’t know,” she sighed. “I don’t think anyone can say for sure what they’d do in that situation. But the idea of never talking to him again is awful.”

  “There’s always phone sex,” suggested Clark, and Tasha picked up a dinner roll and threw it at him. That was the end of all serious conversation for the evening. But Joy felt better. Her conscience could stop bothering her now.