Nobody was getting her off that couch. Not Maguire. Not the army. No one or nothing. She was in love, and that was that.
In the meantime, dusk had already fallen. The day had passed amazingly fast-Maguire did some kind of work, but hed left her upstairs with a pile of packages to sort through. Clothes. Not hers, but her size, nothing formal or fancy, just jeans and sweatshirts and socks, that kind of thing. And shed napped. How on earth she could need more rest was beyond her, but apparently her body wanted to zone out every few hours, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Late afternoon, Maguire had pawed through the freezer, and come through with a gourmet French stew that just needed unthawing and heating to be savored. While hed done that, shed made her lists, but after dinner, shed taken great pleasure in doing the dishes-primarily to give Maguire another fit. Apparently she wasnt supposed to do a thing for herself.
And after all that, theyd both settled in. Shed pounced on her fainting couch with a book on special ed kids, while Maguire had taken the long couch, cocked his stocking feet on the trunk coffee table and was penciling through her lists. Initially hed done so quietly, but Maguire being Maguire, eventually had to get a pen, a legal pad, to make notes and comments, and eventually he started muttering to himself. Probably because he still thought she couldnt hear.
Lobster. Crab. Lobster. Scallops. Hmm. Im sensing a common theme on your food list. Salmon from Alaska, only really from Alaska. Fresh sweet corn straight from a farmers field. Blueberries right off a bushfor Petes sake. Has no one ever fed you, girl?
He jotted some more scribbles on his legal pad. The last shed peeked-less than a minute ago-no one had a prayer of reading his writing, including him.
Grape leaves. Stuffed, you know, the way the real Greeks do it. Actually, I dont know, tiger, but I get it that you want authentic. If youre going to be this easy to please, though, were not going to have any fun. This isnt even challenging. And yeah, I know you cant hear me. But its interesting, having a one-way conversation with a woman who cant talk back. Kind of every guys favorite fantasywell. Favorite fantasy separate from sex, of course
She could hear. Seeing Tommys photo had jolted something that morningbut not consistently. Her hearing, the volume of it, had gone in and out for hours now. It was only since dinner that shed been able to hear anything consistently.
Once hed hurled himself on the couch with her lists and started muttering, though, shed heard every word.
She could have confessed that her hearing was back. She intended to come clean, eventually. Even little lies had always bugged her. But since she was distinctly at the most vulnerable disadvantage in this twosome, Carolina figured it was fair to find out what she could-any way she could. And there was an extraordinarily terrific side benefit to her deceit.
His voice.
Hearing the sound of his voice was like a powerful, free turn-on pill, with no risk and no side effects-beyond a tickle of her hormones. The pitch was low, not a bass, but definitely a low tenor, with a roll and timbre to his accent that put a shiver down her spine now and then. Sexy. He was just so altogether hopelessly, helplessly sexy. Those lethally blue eyes. Those all-guy bones of his, the overall look of him, the way he thought, the way he moved. It all came through in his voice. I am man, hear me roar.
It was that kind of voice. A baby-youre-gonna-love-how-I-kiss voice. A you-cant-imagine-how-much-trouble-I-can-get-you-into kind of voice.
It was that kind of voice. A baby-youre-gonna-love-how-I-kiss voice. A you-cant-imagine-how-much-trouble-I-can-get-you-into kind of voice.
It was mighty stupid, she knew, to travel even for a minute down that silly road. As sporadically as her hearing was returning, her memory seemed to be resurfacing the same way. Everything wasnt clear. But shed recalled enough to make her want to curl up in a closet again, go back to where shed become so agitated she couldnt keep food down, couldnt sleep, couldnt rest, couldnt escape. Anywhere.
So maybe it was irresponsible and downright dumb to dwell on Maguires voicebut temporarily, it felt like self-preservation. Just listening to him allowed her to push her real life away for a little longer. It was hard to feel too guilty. Nothing was waiting for her in real life but more unsolvable problems and anxiety.
Okay, Maguire mumbled. Moving away from the food list and onto the major life wishes list. And right off the bat, cookie, I can see this list has more potential to be challenging He was still obviously talking to himself. He hadnt lifted his head from the legal pad. You want to have dinner in a tree house. A real tree house. Hmm. You want fifteen pairs of Italian shoes. No surprise there-the shopping gene was bound to surface sooner or later. You want to sleep in a castle. A real castle. Youd like a weekend at a spa. Now youre talking. You want to ride in an old MG, like a 53, one of those darling ones with running boards and all. You wantwell, hey. Are you actually listening to this monologue, Carolina?
Maguire had abruptly looked up. Looked straight at her.
Hed caught her. There was nothing she could do but fess up, so she nodded. My hearings coming back. I cant make it stay, but Ive been listening to you talk. And I can hear my own voice. My hearing just seems to fade in and out. Its not consistent. I dont understand it.
I do. The doctors all explained it the same way. You stopped hearing because your life had become an overwhelming pressure cooker. Remove the pressure, and there was every reason to believe youd get your hearing back again.
But nothings changed. Anxiety nipped at her nerves, then took a serious raw bite. The pressure and problems are all there, all real. In fact, I have to go home. I have to get up. I have to-
When she made a move to push off the couch, he interrupted. His voice was quiet, calm. Ive got a deal for you.
Im not a make-a-deal kind of person, Maguire. There is no deal. As crazy as it sounds, I havent minded being kidnapped, but nowits all coming back. I dont have time to mess around. I have to go home-
Hold it, hold it. This is a deal thats going to work for you. I promise. You want to know how I happened to bring you here, dont you? So Ill fill in all the missing information. All you have to do is give me a chance to do that.
She hesitated. She did want to understand-fiercely-how this whole crazy thing had happened. But she wanted to hear about it right away, with no interruptions.
She should have known better. Everything had to be his way. He came through with a mans parka and hat and gloves for her, dragged her outside again. Early evening, the last color was just purpling the snow on the mountaintops. Not a breath of wind stirred. He helped her into an old Adirondack chair, buried in down blankets, but mittens out-so she could hold a glass of wine. Maguire started building a fire in a copper pit by the chairs.
It only took a few minutes before a blaze of golden sparks lit up the night. Wood smoke whiskered off in the valley, mingling with the pungent scent of pine. Maguire, wearing a leather jacket so old Goodwill would probably reject it, took the chair next to her, but his attention was on hunching over, stirring the fire, keeping it heaped up and hot.
And then he finally started talking. Once upon a time, he said, there was a man named Gerald who had three sons. Geralds daddy had invented something so fantastic that he made millions, then billions, and Gerald inherited it all. He devoted his life to buying anything he wanted That wine okay with you?
The wines fine, she said impatiently. It was better than fine. It was some kind of fancy Pinot Noir, rich and dry and deep as the night. Dont trying diverting me, Maguire. Keep talking.
Okay, okay. Well, Geralds first son was named Jay. Jay never worked, and probably never will. From the time he was sixteen, he was going through drugs and women, smashing fast cars, getting into every kind of trouble he could think of. He sounds rotten, but I swear youd like him. Everyone does. Hes a charmer.
Maguire checked her glass, saw shed only had a sip or two, poured himself some, then went on. Gerald went through that wife, then another. Eventually he had a second son. They got along like a snake and a mongoose. About the time Second Son was in college, he had a huge fight with his father because Gerald made a manslaughter charge against Jay disappear. Jay happened to be driving drunk, and hit an old man. The guy was homeless, so he didnt matter, right? No one knew him. No one missed him. The father couldnt figure out why his second son got his Jockeys in such a twist, but that was the last time Second Son spoke directly to his father.
Maguire paused for breath, but Carolina didnt comment. Shed stopped breathing altogether. For the first time in months, she easily put aside her own life and problems. It didnt take rocket science to figure out that Maguire was the second son, that he was talking about himself.
A wife or two later, a third son came into the picture. Tommy was a complete surprise. Unfortunately, when Geralds wife was eight months pregnant, he thought shed enjoy taking a hang-glider ride. Apparently, they both did enjoy it, until the glider crashed. Gerald wasnt hurt, but his wife went into premature labor. She never made it out of the delivery room, lots of complications. Tommy lived, but he was born weeks too soon, was never right.
Gerald solved the problem of Tommy like he did everything else. Threw money at it. The kid had full-time help at home, every toy ever made, was dragged to the best medical specialists on a regular basis. Since all the records pointed to the premature birth, the lack of oxygen-and maybe to the recreational drugs Gerald and his wife enjoyed-no one really expected to find miracles for Tommy. But at least there was no fear he wouldnt always be well taken care of.
Carolina watched him. He was restless now, couldnt sit still, had to fuss with the coals again, even though the fire was vibrantly shooting gold sparks into the night sky. Last summer, Gerald put Tommy in a special place. Hed heard there was this really unusual summer program near South Bend, a school that had fresh ideas for the range of kids who just cant seem to progress because of their mental disabilities. Gerald wasnt really expecting Tommy to improve, of course. He just wanted to vacation in Corfu, wanted a place to stash him.