The Edge of Recall Read online

  “Do you take medications? Anti-anxiety or . . .”

  “I have a prescription for Xanax. I only use it when I can afford to be dopey.”

  The nurse made a note. “Did something set off an attack?”

  Tessa tensed. “There’s nothing wrong.”

  “Any other meds?”

  “No.” Not anymore.

  “Why don’t I get a BP.” She removed the pressure cuff from the hook, but Tessa shook her head.

  “I don’t need treatment.”

  “Your friend seemed pretty concerned.”

  Her friend? If he’d taken her home, she’d be calm already. “I need to go.”

  “I’ll just send the doctor in.”

  Tessa shook her head. “I don’t need to see him.”

  “It’s a woman tonight. Dr. Gail Adams.”

  Gender didn’t matter. Tessa pushed aside the curtain and headed for the door. “I don’t need to see her. Smith overreacted.”

  “I’d recommend—”

  “I appreciate it, but all I need is sleep.” Though she dreaded the thought. If she was no longer safe wide awake, what would the night bring?

  The nurse sighed. “Come back if you change your mind.”

  Tessa swept through the automatic doors and out to the front. As Smith rose to his feet, she strode past him into the night. She’d walk to the inn. It couldn’t be that far.

  Outside he caught her arm. “Wait, will you.”

  “Where’s the inn?”

  “About three and a half miles.”

  How had they gotten so far past without her noticing? “Which way?”

  “Get in the car, Tess. I’ll take you.”

  The stubborn set of his mouth said he would not let her go off alone in the dark. Wanting this over, she buckled herself in and rode silently. She got out at the inn before he could think of getting her door. Now leave, she thought.

  “Are you going to talk to me?” He’d reached the inn door.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face, clearly agitated. “Tess, if I—”

  “It’s not about you.” In a real sense that was true.

  “I don’t feel good leaving with no explanation.”

  He should try living without one. “I guess I’m not a good double date.”

  He held her gaze too long. She spun for the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.” If not for the labyrinth, she’d fly home and never see him again.

  He didn’t move until she’d closed the door and climbed the stairs. After that she didn’t know because she didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER

  11

  Bair had dropped Katy off when Smith got into the Rover. “All right?”

  “Not really.”

  “She didn’t seem ill earlier. But I guess things can just come on.”

  “She’s not ill. She’s upset.”

  “By what happened in the kitchen?”

  “I kissed her.”

  Bair frowned. “I thought you weren’t going there.”

  “I wasn’t.” He could not believe he’d acted so irresponsibly. “But . . . she was all shaking and teary-eyed. . . .”

  “Tears.” Bair nodded. “The brain scrambler.”

  “I know better. I knew better at twenty-two.” He pressed his head between his hands.

  “Maybe there’s more to it than you think.”

  “There’s not more to it. I like sane women.”

  “Sane didn’t work out so well.” Bair flicked him a glance.

  Smith refused to add old anger to new angst. “I took her to emergency, thought maybe it was asthma or food poisoning.”

  Bair scowled.

  “I mean allergic reaction, you know, since she couldn’t breathe.”

  Bair hit the open road and took off. “What did they say?”

  “She left before seeing the doctor. It was all I could do to get her to let me drive her home.”

  “All that over a kiss?”

  Smith shook his head. “There has to be more to it. She told me something about nightmares once. Maybe they’ve become panic attacks. That’s what it looked like.”

  “Would she want to be left alone, then?”

  “If I’m the cause. Look, Bair, maybe you should liaison between us, so she won’t have to deal with me.”

  “Bad idea.”

  “Why?”

  “You might not see it, but she’s got feelings for you.”

  “I see it. She despises me.”

  Bair shook his head. “Get to the bottom of the row you had and apologize.”

  “All I do is apologize. I’m not even sure I’m apologizing for myself anymore. It’s as though I’m apologizing for everyone who’s ever hurt, left, and betrayed her. If you acted as go-between—”

  “Brilliant. When we’re all cozied up in the office, you’ll just talk past her and I’ll repeat it back.”

  Smith released his breath. “No, obviously. I wish we weren’t sharing the same space, though. It’s being near her that’s difficult.”

  “Why?”

  Smith threw out his hands. “Chemistry, I guess.” Except it wasn’t only that. There was something deeper that tugged when she was near. It had since the first time he’d seen her crossing campus with a look on her face of equal parts utter delight and sheer terror.

  It was the first time he’d experienced the pull and repulsion of her magnetism. He’d learned quickly how hazardous she could be, yet there’d been an excitement to it as well. But he’d been young and careless then. He should have learned something since.

  Bair shook his head. “I’ve seen you when it’s only chemistry. You’ve got stronger brakes than a 747.”

  Smith sighed. “I don’t know what, then. Maybe I feel sorry for her.”

  “What did she do when you kissed her?”

  “She . . .” He saw again the look in her eyes, a look that could swallow him whole, that had made him turn and run immediately. “It shouldn’t have happened; that’s all.”

  Bair shot him a pointed look. “Maybe it’s time to dump your baggage.”

  “What baggage?”

  “Danae.”

  “That’s well done and over with.”

  “Then why not go for it?” Bair pulled through the open gate.

  Smith hopped out and closed it, then got back in. “Listen, Bair. There’s nothing personal between Tess and me. That would be insanity.”

  “Would it?” Bair pulled up at the trailer. “Because I think she’s a nice girl, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone who wanted you as much as you wanted her.”

  Smith blew an exasperated breath as they climbed out. “This isn’t about Danae. And Tessa’s not— I told you. She’s got issues. Serious issues that, believe it or not, don’t involve me.”

  “You can’t help her sort them out?”

  “Not if—” Smith paused on the stoop and sniffed. “Do you smell that?”

  “Urine.”

  “And not an animal’s. That’s human.”

  “How on earth would you know?”

  “Hunting with Dad—and a few foul men’s rooms.” Smith stepped off the stoop. “It’s still wet.” He caught the glint in the moonlight and scraped the soles of his shoes in the dirt.

  “Someone peed at our door?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “But who? What for?”

  Smith frowned. “I don’t know. An insult. A prank. A warning.”

  “Warning?”

  “In human culture, urinating on something is an insult. In nature it’s a territorial challenge.”

  “You said it’s not an animal.”

  “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t act like one.” Smith searched the darkness around them. “The level was clearly not message enough. Yesterday it was a dead bird.” He had disposed of it without alerting Bair or Tessa.

  Bair stared. “What’s he trying to say?”

  “If I had to guess, he’d like to s
care us off.”

  “But . . . it’s almost childish, these pranks.”

  Childish . . . and sinister.

  “Maybe it’s a poltergeist.” By his expression, Bair was only half teasing.

  “Step over, won’t you, and bring out the bleach.”

  Tessa shuddered. The panic had passed, but it left a residue of disgust. Why hadn’t she simply dealt with the situation? She should not have disintegrated in front of Smith and Bair and Katy. There hadn’t even been a reason—just an escalating physical response she couldn’t tie to anything, directly.

  Hands shaking, she made the call she’d been resisting. No point pretending she didn’t need help. She would listen—to anything except giving up the labyrinth. The project had taken hold of her, and she would see it rebuilt, even if it meant facing Smith every day. She just had to get through the night, and she wasn’t too proud to admit she couldn’t do it alone.

  Dr. Brenner’s voice mail connected. “Dr. Brenner. If this is an emergency, press one. Or leave a message at the tone.”

  She pressed one. He’d want her to. Besides, it was earlier there.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me.”

  “What can I do for you, Tessa?”

  She sat down on the bed. “I need you to relax me.”

  “All right. Tell me what’s going on.”

  She swiped a tear from her eye. “I don’t want to talk. Just the relaxation exercise.”

  He sighed. “Tessa. Have I ever put you in a vulnerable position without knowing the issue?”

  “I think it was an anxiety attack.”

  “Brought on by what?”

  Smith’s kiss? His immediate rejection? She said, “I don’t know. But I felt the woods closing in, the ground getting soft. It was my dream . . . only . . . I wasn’t asleep.” She shook just saying that much. His pause was so long she chewed her lip raw.

  “This is fresh territory, then.”

  She recognized his probing tone. “It’s been a little stressful, and I just need to relax.”

  “We can’t ignore a change this portentous.”

  “It’s not portentous.” She clenched her free hand. She wouldn’t let it be. “It was one high-anxiety moment. Now it’s gone.”

  “You know better.” He sounded disappointed.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Are you prepared to let out what’s trying to break through?”

  She rolled her eyes back. How many times were they going to have this discussion? “There’s nothing trying to break through.” Then what was the voice that had taken her by surprise? “Smith kissed me and I wasn’t prepared for it. That’s all. End of story.”

  He sighed. “Are you lying down?”

  She lay back and adjusted her head on the pillow. “Yes.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  She did.

  “I’m going to bring you to a safe place, but first tell me how it felt to be kissed.”

  She swallowed the lump that filled her throat. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “If that caused the anxiety, we need to process the emotion.”

  She pulled her breath in through her nose. “It . . . felt nice.”

  “Nice how?”

  Nice hadn’t been the right word. It hadn’t been nice; it had been shocking. “Powerful.”

  “Who had the power?”

  She started to shake. “We . . . I . . . It was over too fast, and then . . . he . . .” Her voice broke. “Smith acted like it didn’t happen. No, like it shouldn’t have.”

  “Should it have?”

  Her hand clawed the bedspread, tears escaping her closed eyelids. “I don’t know.”

  “Sink back into that moment. Before he pushed away.”

  She felt Smith’s lips on hers, his arms around her. She had felt his frustration, but something else, something tender. Something that might be the way a kiss was supposed to be. “I liked it.”

  “Stay there a moment.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  A tear streamed down her temple. “Because he pulled away.”

  “How did that feel?”

  “Like rejection. Desertion.”

  “Stay with that feeling.”

  That one was familiar. She let the hurt take over, let it morph with all the other hurts she knew. Daddy? Daddy!

  She jolted up from the bed, eyes wide, gasping for breath, as though she’d run hard.

  “Tessa.”

  “There’s something . . . wrong. I think he’s in trouble.”

  “Smith?”

  “No. My dad.”

  The silence she expected. “Tell me what you saw.”

  “I didn’t see anything. Just the feeling.”

  “Go back to that feeling.”

  “No.” She started to shake. “Please.”

  “Lie down.”

  How had he known she’d sat up? Experience. Years of treating her. She sank back.

  “We’re going to your safe place.”

  “Yes.” She closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Relax your face.” He led her through each part of her body until she’d released the tight muscles and the shakes had stopped. “How do you feel?”

  She pictured a meadow filled with wild flowers so thick their delicate scents were pungent. “Peaceful.”

  “Good. Go to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” She hung up. Tomorrow.

  In the small trailer bedroom, Smith unbuttoned his shirt. “Maybe we’ve attracted a spy.”

  Bair’s brow creased. “What for?”

  “He could be looking for Petra or Gaston.”

  “Who knows this is their place?”

  “Things have been filed in his name.”

  Bair considered that. “Maybe whoever it is wants us to report the strange activity. Petra’s into the paranormal. You heard her talking about the unsettled energy of the property.”

  Smith nodded. “Petra likes anything sensational.”

  “In her defense, there is a feeling I get sometimes. I swear I’m being watched, yet when I look there’s nothing there.”

  “I’ve felt it too. And heard things. Mostly at night. But there must be an explanation.”

  “Should we say something?”

  “And have Gaston down here holding our hands?” Smith shook his head. “Keep our eyes and ears open.”

  “Still. Fouling the doorstep . . .”

  Smith splashed his face with water and rubbed away the tension. “Very odd.”

  “Odd doesn’t touch it. It’s barmy.”

  Smith brushed his teeth and rinsed his brush, thankful whatever was out there had distracted Bair from Tessa. He didn’t want to think about tonight. He just wanted to sleep. He got into bed and bunched his pillow into shape.

  Bair took his turn in the bathroom, then sat on the edge of his bed. “Could be a nature reservist who doesn’t want us to build. Maybe he thinks it’s a mall or theme park as well.”

  Smith raised his head. “Did you get Katy off that?”

  Bair sighed. “Persistent girl.”

  “No having her back.”

  “I suppose not—even if she wanted to.”

  “She’d want to.”

  Bair shrugged. “I had no chance to show my charming self.”

  “Girls don’t want you charming. They want to bring you home and take care of you.”

  Bair scowled. “Katy’s not like that.”

  True. She seemed more interested in taking care of herself. “I hope you’re not simply her ticket out.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  “A charming ticket.”

  Bair heaved his pillow. “She wanted to know about you and Tessa.”

  “Nothing to know.”

  “She picked up on it that first lunch at Ellie’s. Like sheet lightning arcing over the table.”

  “Ridiculous.” Smith tossed Bair’s pillow back.

>   “And then tonight. The very air singed.”

  Smith buried his head in his arms. “Enough already.”

  “Have you thought about the morning?”

  He groaned.

  “If Tessa comes back—”

  “She’ll be back.” That much he knew. “Nothing will keep her from that labyrinth.”

  “But you do plan to . . .”

  “Grovel?”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  Smith sighed. “I’ll protect this job, and that goes for Katy and Tessa and whoever’s out there.”

  They lay in the darkness. Smith had just started to hope that was it when Bair murmured, “How was it? Kissing her.”

  “You really think I’m going to say?”

  “I mean being back in the match.”

  “If you’re asking whether the specter of Danae hung over me, then no.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  Smith released a slow breath. In the kitchen with Tessa, Danae had not entered his mind. He closed his eyes. What was he doing? He hadn’t planned to reenter the match. He would let her know she didn’t need to worry about a repeat performance. Her reaction had warned him off anything more personal than progress reports.

  CHAPTER

  12

  Tessa had hoped when she went to work that Smith would avoid her indefinitely, but he was waiting outside the office dressed in pressed jeans and a crisp Oxford shirt. In spite of meticulous grooming, he looked haggard, as though his night had not been restful. She’d slept after her therapy as if Dr. Brenner had ordered her mind to comply.

  She sometimes believed he possessed that power. Like the old hypnotist movies. You’re getting sleeeepy. Maybe that was why she’d resisted that particular therapy. No thanks. No spooky pendulums. But his voice did seem to convey her to whatever state she needed. Now she wished she’d stayed in bed.

  She got out of the car and raised a hand to stem whatever Smith might say. “Let’s just forget last night happened.” She could deal with anything today if Smith left it alone—and if she didn’t whiff his cologne and hear his voice and see the look he was giving her, his serious face, no hint of underlying humor, and more than a little concern.

  “I need to know you’re all right.”

  He’d called her an egg, but he would see how thick her shell was. No danger she’d break. “I’m fine.”

  “Sure?”

  “I’m fine.” She couldn’t be more direct than that.