Secret Desire (19 page)

* * *

A walk between the houses early in the morning was nothing new. Claire had done it for years. She was thrilled being with Dustin, but her joy was edged in sorrow, confusion, and an underlying bitterness that seemed to define her relationship with Fran.

She opened the front door and smelled coffee. She slipped off her shoes and went into the kitchen. Fran was seated at the dining room table. “Wi-Fi still hasn’t ventured this far.”

“You can use your phone if you’re lucky, but for not for large files.”

“So, are you and Dustin just enjoying a roll in the sheets or is this something more permanent?”

Claire stalled. Dustin and she had hemmed and hawed about the future. She believed they both wanted to be together but that was as far as they’d gotten. That didn’t seem like a way to determine what type of relationship they had other than physical and something fueled if not driven by their past. They needed to talk.

Somehow discussing this with Fran bordered on conspiring with the enemy. This whole conversation felt déjà vu and not comforting in the least. She wanted to tell Fran to mind her own business, yet after last night if they had another point of contention, Claire feared they’d have a big meltdown without their parents to intervene. This was new territory and she, at least, understood that pushing the boundaries could end up tearing them apart. That type of renting might never get repaired. Not only would she lose her parents, she’d lose Fran. For all her sister’s outlandish neediness, she was still her twin.

“We haven’t discussed it.” Claire looked at her sister steadily. “I’ve only been back for a couple of days.”

“And you both haven’t reconnected before this time?”

“No. You know that. I would have told you.”

“Everyone has secrets.” Fran smiled oddly. “Is this a rebound thing? You just decided to go after him after all these years?”

“I didn’t chase him and wrestle him to the ground. He was a willing partner.”

“I didn’t mean that he was having sympathy sex with you. I simply wondered if you were thinking with your head or maybe if this is how you get material for your writing.”

Claire griped the back of the chair. “Really, this is too low for even you. Do you ever think before you speak or is it your intent to hurt?”

“If you’re going to be this thin-skinned how will you ever stand book reviews?”

“I have to go into town. Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you. I went this morning while you were having fun.”

She didn’t want to spend another moment in her sister’s company. She stormed out of the room. She took her purse and slipped on her shoes. She needed to download the contract. A drive into town would be a welcomed relief.

* * *

Thank goodness that same clerk wasn’t around. Claire relaxed after taking one look at the older woman behind the counter. She sat at the computer monitor and actually read her emails, answered messages, and downloaded not only the contract but several other documents that she’d received. Some was research, others were sympathy messages, and one was even a request for a manuscript read from an agent referral from Mike.

She stacked her papers and went through everything, collating and stapling. She relaxed doing simple office tasks. Cleaning her desk drawers, filing, and even sorting paperwork always settled her mind. It worked as well as yoga and Tai Chi. She’d call Fran to see if she wanted anything from the store. She opened her purse to grab her wallet and noticed she’d forgotten her cell phone.

Claire stopped at the grocery, picked up a couple of items and headed home in less than a couple of hours. After lunch she could contemplate what to do with Fran. Claire sighed. She’d give her sister another chance. She always did.

She entered the house and it was quiet. “Fran?” she called out.

The rooms were empty. Fran wasn’t one to linger outside yet she might have started to tackle sorting the barn items. Claire entered into the cool musty barn. No Fran and no sticky notes. From behind the house, she meandered between her mother’s herb and vegetable garden plots and grapevines. She edged over to the fence and heard voices.

The loud hammering of her heart hampered discerning what was said other than Fran’s voice rose and fell followed by Dustin’s. Jasper was outside the barn holding a ball. She went through the back gate. The dog didn’t bark but came over the dropped his ball at her feet. She picked up the ball and lobbed it off across the yard. He came back and she held the ball unable to believe her sister was here in Dustin’s barn. Claire stopped just short of the barn entrance.

“You always were a tease. I can’t believe you think I’m interested in you.”

“Don’t be such a poor sport. What the hell is wrong with you? It’s not like either of us are married.”

“I’m not interested in you. You’re only doing this to upset Claire. I thought you were engaged?”

“You and I both know nothing ever gets in our way. You might play the hero for my sister, but really I’m the type of woman who can handle you. Claire isn’t up to the task. Not then and not now. Let me show what a real woman can do for you. You don’t have to act like you don’t want some of this. C’mon, I saw your eyes the other night. Stop using your eyes and gimme some of your mouth.”

“I swear—”

Claire stepped into the open doorway. She let go of the ball she hadn’t even realized she still held in her hands. She caught Fran’s profile and the fact that her sister’s breasts were exposed. Fran had been smiling, threading her hands through her hair in a way that Claire had seen hundreds of times. It reminded her of someone petting a long-haired lap dog the way she kept moving her hand over the blond mass. Her sister wore a skimpy shirt and skirt. This was pretty much her sister’s mode of operation whenever she was out to snag a man. Fran faced her before pulling down her shirt.

Dustin was standing not more than a foot away from Fran. His hands had been less than twelve inches from her sister’s cleavage. His back was against his workbench and Fran let her hand drop onto Dustin’s arm. He flinched away.

“Back off, Fran.”

“Oh my, Claire. I’m so sorry you had to see this. Some things never change.”

“Stop this, Fran. Get the hell away from me.” Dustin finally pushed past her, swearing. “You’re seriously screwed up. Claire, please. This isn’t what it looks like. I swear.”

Fran laughed, a toxic trill of mocking jubilation. Claire’s fingers shook. She took a step back, her hands thrust out in front of her. “Both of you, stop. It was foolish to think that any of us had changed. Foolish to believe for a second.”

Her thoughts were jumbled. She only knew she needed to leave. She retraced her steps, blinded by tears and anger and hurt.

She tried to breathe. Her lungs had shrunk; something was wrong. She couldn’t swallow. She reached the fence, pulled the latch, it wouldn’t budge. She sobbed and wiped her eyes. She pushed again and then realized she needed to push and lift simultaneously.

Footsteps were behind her, Dustin’s hands on her shoulders. “Don’t run away. Please. I’m begging. She’s doing the same thing.”

“You weren’t anywhere near leaving until I came through the door. Not before. Not before. It’s me who’s making you do things you don’t want to do. Just admit what you want. I’ll be fine. Stop thinking you have to take care of me. I don’t need your help anymore.”

“For Christ’s sake. Stop. She’s crazy. I’m not interested in her.”

Fran approached them, humming, her voice becoming louder.

“No, I’m not going to stand here another minute and listen to this. God dammit, Dustin, get your hands off me.” She swung her arms and pushed against him with adrenaline-doused fury. He stumbled back but not enough to lose his balance.

“Please. Just listen to me.” He showed her his palms, shaking his head.

“Let her go, Dustin. She doesn’t want you. Come to think of it, I don’t want you. Why don’t you just let us be? Being buddies like the old days, well that’s not working out, is it?”

Claire didn’t know where she wanted to go, but she’d not go back inside with Fran. She didn’t have a choice though unless she wanted to travel on foot. She went inside, looped her fingers into her purse straps, and flew by Fran without making eye contact. She stopped at the doorway and whirled around.

“I feel sorry for you, Fran. You’re pathetic. Don’t think I’m so stupid not to know what you did years ago and what you did today. I don’t blame Dustin, if that’s what you think. I don’t blame you. It’s me. I should have set you straight when we were kids. Just because you were born seven minutes ahead of me, you think you’re superior. Guess again. I’m not the one sleeping around. For everything you have, you’re miserable. Go back to New York. We’re done. No more.”

“Shut up, little sister. I may sleep around but at least I’ve got real lovers. You live through me. I’ve just given you enough fodder for your next novel. You’re scared. That’s why you write. You wish you could be me. I don’t hide in front of a computer. I’m the fucking heroine in your next book.”

“Only if I was writing about a dysfunctional family with a wacko back-stabbing sister. Only then. One day you’ll push me too far and then we’ll see how this ends.” Claire took a couple of steps toward her sister. Fran’s eyes widened. Claire stopped and then turned. She wasn’t going to listen to anything more.

She walked out the door and down the porch steps. She pulled open the car door, gunned the engine, and floored the gas pedal, nearly bashing into Fran’s SUV. She sped out the driveway. There was only one place she could go. She drove without thinking, hardly recollecting how she arrived at Sugar Man’s Creek.

Once parked, she sat for a long time. This desolate stretch fed the lake. She cried herself past the stage of anger, past hurt, and huddled inside the car numb and drained. Her head throbbed from an awful headache. Not migraine material but darn close.

She didn’t have any painkillers and doubted she cared enough to do more than sit and stare. She replayed the scene a thousand times. Each time she rehashed it, Dustin seemed to be positioned closer to Fran and more interested in her sister’s body. She imagined what his expression might have been last night when Fran had sauntered over, testing the waters. All Fran’s little questions were nothing more than a questionnaire to help her decide if interfering was worth her effort. Claire inhaled a breath that felt like a serrated knife in her chest, straight to her heart. The pain was only outdone by the backstabbing delivered by her own twin flesh and blood.

She pressed her fingers to her eyes, tried to stop the endless tears from flowing. She gazed at her wet fingers. She and Fran were lookalikes, but only in the flesh, nothing else. She closed her eyes, giving into exhaustion.

The first thing she noticed when she opened her eyes was a swarm of buzzing insects pelting her windshield. An owl hooted nearby. Crickets chirped and frogs croaked. The country symphony was in full swing. How much time had passed? It was dark and a summer breeze entered from the open window, lifting her hair. She was hot and sticky inside the car. Her temples pounded and she had a crick in her neck. She tried to sit up and rested her head back against the seat. She inhaled, focusing on a slow measured filling of her lungs with air. She held onto the breath trying to use up all the oxygen it contained, even when the burning in her lungs begged for release, and then she did, not all at once, but little-by-little letting the used air slip away.

She wondered if it was cooler by the water. June wasn’t the hottest month, but tonight was warmer than most. She opened the car door and immediately the stifling feeling abated. The water lapped against the shore, calling to her. Claire wandered down toward the water following a worn footpath.

This part of the park was always deserted. She had come here so often as a child she could navigate around the entire place with her eyes closed. Up ahead there were tall cattails that barely swayed in the breeze. How often had she and Dustin swum out from the point right in front of her?

She didn’t want to think about him but could focus upon nothing else. She walked toward the water, forcing herself to count the streaks of light reflecting off the gray-black surface. She looked upward and gazed at the moon rising over the horizon, taking a few more steps to see where it would reflect in the water.

Suddenly a biting pain gripped her ankle, tearing up her leg. She exhaled a frightened breath. Without touching the metal that wrapped around her leg, she knew she’d stepped into an animal trap.

No matter how she moved or didn’t move, the pain assaulted her, kept her attention, and she tried to think how she could extract her ankle. Claire knelt, difficult to do on one leg. Any pressure she put on her trapped ankle caused the tearing jaws to bear down further into her flesh, past her skin, down to the bone. She ended up nearly toppling over trying to use her arms to take her weight and not having enough strength to keep balanced.

She touched her swollen ankle and felt sticky liquid. She lifted her fingers into a ray of moonlight and confirmed it was blood, as if she needed to see what scented the air with iron. Why the hell had someone set up a trap here? Right beside the path? She gazed at the grassy ground littered with leaves and small twigs, pebbles and stones. She couldn’t spot a stick or rock or anything she could use to pry open the jaws of the trap.

No matter how she pressed and pulled, the steel jaws opened an inch, and she could only hold the pair off her ankle for minutes at a time. Each time she released the jaws, she bit back a scream of pain. She began to cry out of frustration and desperation. Once she’d loved this part of the park for being so unpopulated; tonight it was a place where she was alone and without help.

Bowing her head, Claire hugged her knees and remained perfectly still. As long as she didn’t move, she could maintain. She tried to count backward from a thousand and then did it again by even numbers. She grew fuzzy with the odds and drifted in and out of sleep. Her ankle swelled around the jaws.

Her mouth was so dry. Her lips were chapped, and she couldn’t imagine being here during the day. No, she mustn’t imagine being trapped in the hot summer sun. Soon she would be back home and drinking a large glass of ice water. No, a glass of orange juice where she’d sip and crunch the ice. She imagined the sweet taste and cold beading on the glass.