The Edge of Recall Page 7

  She closed her eyes and drew a seed pattern of a Greek cross, four dots and two inverted half circles at the top, then two sidefacing at the bottom. Eyes still closed, she added curving lines that yielded a seven-circuit design, not caring that some of the connections were off. The blind approximation calmed her racing thoughts and triggered creativity, while sharpening her analytical processes.

  Feeling the cooling sweep of a shadow, she opened her eyes to Bair leaning over. “You drew that with your eyes closed.”

  She smiled. “It opens kinesthetic channels when sight is removed from the connection between thought and hand.”

  “Looks like a different pattern.”

  “It’s the classic design. Not my personal favorite, but I’ve styled quite a few from turf, dwarf shrubs, and other ground covers. It lends itself well to landscape.”

  “What’s this one?”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s the medieval design, like the floor of Chartres Cathedral. Possibly Roman, since both have four quadrants, but the Roman is traveled sequentially, and this path appears to run back and forth through the structure as a whole.”

  “You can tell all that from what’s here?” He looked over the uneven ground.

  “If you know what you’re looking at.”

  She picked up her pencil and drew the design, then held it up for Bair to see.

  He looked from the drawing to the field. “Yes, quite. Still, I’m surprised Smith recognized it.”

  She was too. Although she had drawn enough of them in his company. He had admired her doodling until she decided to make them reality.

  “It’s going to be big.”

  “Yeah.” Translating the intricate and exact proportions to a topiary path would be her greatest challenge yet. If she intended the hedge to grow an assumed height of six feet, she would need a width of two feet for stability, path width two and a half. “Let’s see. Twenty-two circuits, four and a half feet wide, plus the center, which equals one quarter of the total . . .” She did the math. “I’ll be working with a diameter of a hundred thirty-two feet, or fortyfour yards across.”

  “No small task.”

  Walking it, she’d been aware of its size, but now she consciously considered the job before her. “I’m pretty certain the original designer followed the straight-angled Chartres script without the decorative elements of the cathedral’s floor labyrinth. I’ll know more when I uncover enough of the path to see the first turns.” Although now, with every cut of the spade, she wondered what she might unearth. “I wish I knew more about it.”

  “Have you read the documents?”

  She nodded. “Mr. Gaston’s documents contain the most information I’ve found. The etchings are fairly detailed for the structure”—a wooden colonial chapel with wings that would have held the priests’ cells, kitchen, storage, education and workrooms— “but not so much for the labyrinth. I haven’t found more than a passing mention of the monastery in records outside Mr. Gaston’s.”

  “According to Smith, he privately acquired everything he could.”

  She raised her brows. Lots of people wanted to know the history of their land, but left it for the public as well. “St. John’s didn’t seem to have been around long enough to impact history before it got destroyed.” She hoped with everything in her the priests’ bones did not lie within the labyrinth.

  “Hard to imagine that kind of violence.”

  “Is it?” She looked up, surprised. “With Islamic suicide bombers who want to kill us all as infidels?”

  “But these were all Christians. They simply worshiped differently.”

  “True.”

  In spite of Smith’s dire warnings, she had managed to learn a little about the local history without raising alarms. “Lord Baltimore envisioned a colony without an established religion, where all believers in Christ could worship in peace. The original act went so far as to punish with fines people who used terms like Puritan, heretic, Calvinist, Papist, or Lutheran in a ‘reproachful manner.’ Very forward thinking for the time, but naïve.”

  “What happened?”

  “Puritans who had been forced out of Virginia and given refuge in Maryland wrested control, suspended the Toleration Act, and denied Quakers, Baptists, Catholics, and Anglicans religious liberty.”

  “That’s a nice turnaround. So what happened?”

  “Oliver Cromwell recognized the excessive persecution and restored the Toleration Act, but by then the monastery and its peace labyrinth had been burned to the ground.”

  “Makes you wonder what God thinks of it all.”

  “Yes, it does.” She nodded. “Especially since the infighting between Christians hasn’t stopped. It never took long whenever Mom and I tried a new church before one group or another was being criticized. I guess that’s why some people choose a private relationship with God over any church at all.” She had not meant to say so much, but learning the monastery’s history had struck a chord with the nomadic search she and her mother had made for a place to rest away from petty quarrels and politics, and why she still sought God in the labyrinth’s solitude.

  “Well, um . . . I was wondering . . . when you might be finishing up.”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “No reason. Just . . . wondering.”

  “Is there something I need to do?”

  “No, no.” Bair shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ll just . . . head back in.”

  “Okay. See you later.” At least in the field, she didn’t have to shield herself from Smith, though, thankfully, they’d had little direct interaction since their last collision. As Bair trudged back to the trailer, she returned to her own business.

  The stone path she had uncovered beneath the fallen gate appeared to be bedrock, a creamy white limestone bordered by walls of the same, with which the builder had created earth beds for the hedge. It all showed blackening from fire, and she imagined the flames sweeping over and engulfing it.

  The house Smith designed might only hint at a monastic heritage, but she intended to restore in the labyrinth a place of peace, of seeking divine wisdom. This was more than landscaping, more than preserving a wetland or laying out a park. Nature had reclaimed the ground, but the path was there, and she would bring it all once again to life.

  And then what? Turn it over to the people Smith and Bair had described? Gaston had chosen the property, established what he wanted there, and ordered Smith on-site. He didn’t sound flexible enough to consider his fiancée’s preferences. And Petra sounded petulant and spoiled. But that was all according to Smith, who was not the best judge of anyone. Certainly not people’s motivations and dreams.

  She hadn’t met Mr. Gaston or Petra and would wait to draw her own conclusions. In the end it didn’t matter who they were. This labyrinth, like the others she had built, belonged to someone else. She didn’t make them for herself but so that others could have a path toward God.

  She pushed up to her feet. It might not be hers, but as long as she had it, she would use it. She stepped onto the path. Her pilgrimages to the center and back helped her grow stronger and wiser from encountering the Creator who instilled nature with patterns and rhythms reflected in the stars, in the depths of the sea, the earth and creatures. An order to all created things that could not have happened by mistakes and mutations. Not random chaos, but balance and perfection—even if much of it had been disrupted.

  A turn to the left, then an arc to the right. She had received her love of nature from her mother, along with the desire to both beautify and steward the earth. Landscape architecture gave her opportunities to do both. Her focus on labyrinths came from her dad, from that single memory, his parting gift.

  As a child, she had imagined the labyrinth a riddle that when solved would break the enchantment that took her dad away. But whatever tale her mind conceived, it didn’t take away the pain of abandonment. The loneliness. The regret. When she walked the paths he’d left her and encountered those companions, she drew them
to the center for God to strip away and let her return unencumbered.

  This time, they dragged themselves back with her. Instead of peaceful, she felt raw.

  Smith drove toward the field, grimly wishing he’d come up with a better idea or just said no. He had successfully avoided Tessa since their last heated discussion, communicating when he had to in a manner that didn’t ripple her pond. This, he was certain, would create a small tsunami.

  Once again he ran the alternatives through his mind: leave Bair in the lurch, try to find a total stranger and be left with a sticky explanation of why he wasn’t interested, or ask Tessa. If she didn’t go ballistic, he might enjoy the third option. The odds of her not going ballistic made his hands sweat.

  Bair was supposed to have asked himself, but hadn’t. He said he thought it was better coming from him, but he had probably chickened out—Smith wanted to as well. The last thing he desired was to invade Tessa’s territory after she had sniped at him for some betrayal from years ago, when he had been far less mature and considerate than he tried to be now.

  It was thoughtfulness that had put him in this position. He and Bair had been friends long enough to cover each other’s back. One date with Katy ought to cure Bair’s infatuation, but he couldn’t do it alone. Girding himself, Smith parked at the edge of the field and watched Tessa moving along the path she found so fascinating. It caused an uncomfortable sensation. With anyone else, he’d consider it attraction. With Tessa, it was more fatal attraction.

  He could return to safe ground, but crippling shyness left Bair speechless with someone he liked romantically. Booze unlocked his tongue and his restraint, but once he started drinking there wasn’t much that could stop him. Hence the wasted years and more than a few scars.

  Smith sighed. He could do this much for a mate. It would be good to clear the air with Tessa anyway. He waited while she completed the circuit and joined him, her expression wary, and no wonder.

  She brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Did you need something?”

  “First, I wanted to apologize for the other day, suggesting you’d be anything but discreet.” He hadn’t intended to apologize, since he hadn’t intended to insult her, but with Tessa it was always a good starting point.

  Her eyes softened. “It’s obviously a big deal.”

  “It is and I can’t change that, but I know you understand even if you don’t agree.”

  “And?”

  He cleared his throat, remembering all the times Bair had been there for him. “Would you like to eat with us tonight?”

  “No thanks.”

  “Bair’s cooking. He’s asked Katy, and it would be nice to have you there as well.”

  “Why?”

  “He needs someone to make conversation. But we can’t really have her out to the trailer with two men alone. Not socially. Unlike your being there professionally and not . . . romantically.”

  She shot him a look. “Why doesn’t he take her out somewhere?”

  “It’s better in a controlled environment. And he’s more comfortable on a double—”

  “Date?”

  “No. Well, yes. I mean if you want it to be.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “But not because you want it to.”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to, in that way.”

  She screwed up her face. “What do you expect after the last time?”

  “What last time? You didn’t think we were dating. . . .”

  “I thought we were friends. I told you things, showed you more than—” She clenched her hands and looked away, blinking back tears.

  He tried to think what to say while she composed herself, but nothing presented itself that wouldn’t dig him deeper.

  She squared her shoulders. “I’ll do it so Bair can have his date with Katy. But don’t think I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.”

  So there it was. “It wouldn’t enter my mind.”

  “Good.”

  Not good. He’d made the request in good faith, and if she couldn’t see that, it was her issue. But now they were back to the contention she’d arrived with, and the last thing he’d wanted was another row. “Tessa.”

  “Leave it alone, Smith. In fact, leave me alone. I’m working.”

  “Is that what you call it?” Her jaw slackened, a clear warning, but he’d worked up a head of steam. “Wandering around with your eyes closed? I mean, what’s the point?”

  “Have you walked the labyrinth?”

  “No.”

  “Then you don’t know what you’re talking about. They’ve done medical studies on the kinesthetic effects of walking the patterns found in labyrinths. But more than that, when people walk a labyrinth they connect to something greater than themselves. But I wonder, is there anything greater to you than you, Smith?” She turned and stalked away.

  Right. He’d pulled that off brilliantly. Driving back to the trailer it occurred to him he’d set her up for a truly miserable evening. Well. It wouldn’t exactly be ace for him.

  “Well?” Bair said when he got back in.

  “You’d better be grateful.”

  “She’ll do it?”

  If he didn’t know better, he’d say Bair looked happier about that than Katy’s coming. “Yeah, she will.” He went straight through to the bedroom and slammed the door.

  CHAPTER

  9

  Tessa went back to the inn and showered, then picked Katy up so Bair wouldn’t have to drive with her alone. She had not realized the extent of his communication handicap, because she had conversed fairly easily with him on the job. She supposed if the thought ever entered Bair’s head of something romantic between them, she’d never get another word from him.

  Thankfully, he’d set his cap for Katy. The last thing she needed was more interpersonal stress. She should not have blown up at Smith, not shown the tumult that lingered barely deep enough for her to keep from lashing out every time he came near. If only she hadn’t trusted him at such a fragile time. He’d been the first person she had opened up to outside of therapy. Why had he proved so unreliable?

  As she and Katy headed back to the trailer, the girl plied her with questions. Bair hadn’t supplied much in the way of personal history, so once Katy realized how little Tessa could tell her, she mostly chewed her gum and looked out the window. In her current mood, that was just fine.

  Tessa chewed her lip. Why had she agreed to this? Bair had been kind, but she’d only known him a month. Dr. Brenner would blame it on her need to please even practical strangers. Okay, so, was that such a bad thing? Only when it put her in a difficult position. Like this. If Katy weren’t there, she’d turn around. Had the guys guessed that? It suddenly felt like a huge setup.

  She could have told Smith no; this was business. But colleagues dined together. She’d done it on other projects. It was only because he’d framed it as a date that it got sticky. Of course, he’d backed off that word like a scalded cat.

  She sighed. She was merely a placeholder so Smith could support his friend. That was admirable, kind even. One night—no— evening—no—meal. She could do that. She wouldn’t even be alone with Smith. As long as Bair was there—but Bair would be focused on Katy.

  From the side of her eye, she glimpsed the girl who had no use for her if she couldn’t spill any details. No matter. She’d make this night about Katy—Katy and Bair. She felt an immediate comfort in that thought. Kind of like group therapy, where you gave the speaker full attention and tried to enter their distress or excitement, even if it seemed so much less important than yours.

  She had reams of experience doing that. The facilitators had called her empathy a gift. “Don’t know how you do it, sweetie, but you sure set people at ease. Wish you could attend every session.” And Dr. Brenner. “Maybe if you gave yourself the same permission you gave others we’d get somewhere.” He kept thinking she held back, even when she told him there was nothing more to tell.

  He wanted there to be a reason she wa
s messed up. But there wasn’t. She’d bared everything she thought and felt, answered every question that had an answer. If there were some other explanation for the dreams, the terrors, she would have told him.

  She parked and Katy climbed out without a word. “You’re welcome,” Tessa murmured under her breath with no patience for thoughtless people.

  Smith and Bair were in the kitchen when she followed Katy inside. Tessa avoided Smith’s glance, as he did hers, but Bair beamed. She hoped this wouldn’t be like that first month in Cedar Grove when she’d carried notes between two patients, believing they were communications of love—until she’d learned they’d been threatening things like setting the other’s hair on fire. She’d never played matchmaker since.

  Why people thought she had any kind of handle on anyone else’s problems baffled her, yet repeatedly people like Genie came and curled up at her feet, wanting a saucer of milk and a soft pat. Thank goodness she rubbed Katy wrong. She wouldn’t have to get involved.

  The girl hung her hoody over her youthful shoulders and faced Bair. “Can I see what you’re doing?”

  He stared dumbly.

  “You know, building.”

  “Well, um . . .”

  Smith turned from the stove. “There’s nothing to see.”

  There was the labyrinth with a dozen feet of pathway cleared. Nothing to Smith maybe, but not to her.

  Katy nudged Bair’s elbow with hers. “Come on. Walk me around.”

  Bair shot Smith a look, but Smith didn’t object. He had indicated that anyone who approached the site without a non-disclosure agreement signed in blood would be shot at dawn. Maybe that only applied to her.

  Katy stuffed her arms into her sleeves. “Let’s go.”

  Sighing, Bair followed her out the door.

  Tessa turned on Smith. “You don’t mind Katy knowing?”