Finders Keepers Page 9

  Marissa was gone now and Linda’s mother was back.

  Linda remembered joking about being a suave financier, there to whisk Marissa away to safety but that had been a part she’d played, some of the time. Other times she’d been a survivalist, in love with the great outdoors. Still others she’d been tour guide and coach. The only time she’d been herself had been last night and this morning, after Marissa called her strong.

  Strong. Do strong women run? Wryly she thought that strong women might not run but smart women did. Her intelligence had never been in question. Dr. Kirkland had even pointed out that a smart woman would always find a way to make denial and avoid-ance seem like the wise choice.

  This smart woman, Linda mused, wanted to go after Marissa.

  She wanted to reclaim the feeling of that incredible moment when Marissa had seen and touched only the real Linda, the one no one ever saw, the one even she had thought could never be found again.

  Marissa had a passion for living and it had shown in the way she’d attacked the cliff. It showed in the way she made love. Even in the way she enjoyed water, sand and new experiences, like raw tuna and goat cheese.

  The aroma of roasting pineapple made her stomach growl and Linda turned back to the main marketplace, following the scent with her nose. She bought a plate of rice with a skewer of white fish and pineapple and stood not far from the vendor, nibbling and remembering. She could get lost in the simple pace of the islands.

  Even here, where tourists passed through constantly, the vendors moved as if they heard music no one else could. The white paper plates were handed to new customers without hurry.

  Linda watched a teenager with dark hair accept a laden plate 81

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  from her mother. They were both smiling while the food in Linda’s mouth turned to ash.

  Her brain stuck on a vision of her mother, turning in a repeating loop, with a white plate heaped with food in her hand. She held it out to Linda, whose hands were thin and pale but tipped with demure pink, as she accepted it. Nausea rolled up as Linda dropped the rest of her food into the nearby bin, then bent over it with a shudder. She gasped for breath, staring at her strong, broad adult hands clenching her thighs. Don’t go there, she warned herself. Don’t live it again.

  “You can’t run forever,” Dr. Kirkland had told her. “Memory isn’t something you leave behind. Eventually, when you can handle it, you’ll remember what hurt you.”

  Scalpels hurt. Needles hurt. Electrolysis hurt. Throwing up hurt. She remembered it all. So why couldn’t she handle it? Why was she still running away when there were such things as magic and love? She’d not touched on that memory in months, years even. It wasn’t relevant. It revealed nothing. She already knew what had happened back then. This memory was not new, not a guarded secret and it did not have the power to make her fourteen again. Not after all this time. She wouldn’t allow it.

  She made herself walk, willing the motion to settle her stomach. She came to the end of the market and knew she had to turn back. But where was she going? Marissa was in California. Her mother was in Massachusetts. The ticket in her wallet said Auckland, but she didn’t have to go there. She could go anywhere in the world she wanted.

  She wanted to run to Marissa, for the first time wanting to run toward something instead of away.

  She wasn’t the woman Marissa thought she was, though she wanted to be. What would Marissa think of her when she learned the truth? Marissa had wanted a lie, a mask. Except she hadn’t, not last night. Last night, she had wanted the real Linda. Hadn’t she?

  She bought a bit of the cool blue silk to remind her of Marissa’s eyes. Tucking it in her shirt pocket she felt as if she’d found something that would help her remember the way she’d felt last night: 82

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  safe. It didn’t make sense, but then again the way Marissa had seemed to see all the way inside her, well, that didn’t make sense either.

  Linda caught herself searching out the window of the Air New Zealand plane for the tenth time since take off. Marissa’s plane was long gone and now they were heading in opposite directions. The bond between them was a fragile tether, she told herself, and distance would snap it. The fruitless yearning for impossible things would end.

  “You don’t live the life other girls do,” she could hear her mother say. Yeah, Mom, she thought viciously, you made damn sure of that.

  Turning her gaze inside the cabin she caught a glimpse of the blue silk tucked in her pocket. Part of her wanted to stuff it down the seatback pocket and the other to braid it into a bracelet that she never removed. Was last night a lie or truth? What had she seen in Marissa’s eyes that she could trust?

  If she could sleep she might have answers when she woke but that was out of the question. She never slept in a public place.

  Instead, she opened the new paperback she’d bought, anticipated boredom and quickly found it. At least the flight wasn’t full and there was an empty middle seat, allowing her to stretch out her legs.

  “Can I get you a beverage?”

  Back to civilization, Linda thought. “Diet Coke?”

  The steward asked the same question of the woman in the aisle seat then efficiently decanted both sodas. He leaned over to give Linda hers and the woman in the aisle seat helpfully set the accompanying packet of biscuits on Linda’s tray table.

  Linda smiled her thanks then braced herself as the woman did the familiar double take.

  “You do know that you look like . . .” The woman had a clipped, pronounced Kiwi accent.

  “Yes, I know. I’m often told.”

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  “Oh.” She brushed long, attractively highlighted blond strands behind her shoulder. “I guess that makes me unoriginal. I’ll have to try harder.”

  Linda knew her smile was stiff and she tried to soften her response. “Sometimes I’m not sure I even look like me.”

  “I’m always told I look like my Aunt Darea. She’s been dead thirty years so I’m never sure it’s a compliment.”

  The mask of interest and flirtation slipped easily into place.

  “Your Aunt Darea must have been an attractive woman.” Even as she spoke, Linda felt herself step back, part of her watching their interchange. She’d done that with Marissa, at first. Then, without even noticing the loss of her detachment, she hadn’t been watching herself with Marissa, she’d been experiencing it.

  “Oh, my. And they say Americans are rude and boorish.”

  “We are.” Linda stretched slightly in the seat. “Rude, boorish and we suck up more resources per capita than everybody else. But that doesn’t mean we don’t know a gorgeous woman when we see one.”

  “Tamryn Messiter.”

  “Linda Bartok.” She shook the proffered hand.

  “You’re a lesbian.”

  “And I’m betting you’re not.” Linda grinned. “Yet.”

  “Evil! I shall buy you a drink if you keep that up.”

  “Doesn’t that encourage me to suggest you might want to join the Mile High Club?”

  The flash of interest in Tamryn’s eyes took Linda aback. Then it felt quite normal to take all the discomfort she felt and channel it to the one thing that would create the greatest distance between her and Tamryn. All Tamryn saw was the legs, the body, the perfect nose. Sex could certainly happen but it would be the mask, the shell that touched Tamryn while the rest of Linda went away.

  That’s the way it had always been. It was quick and foolproof.

  Until Marissa, her body reminded her. Until Marissa—it didn’t matter what Marissa thought or felt or knew or saw. You stayed.

  You let yourself climax in her arms. Dr. Kirkland would call that a major breakthrough.

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  The war between her inner pains started again, even as she flirted outrage
ously with Tamryn. Run away or go to Marissa? Stay with what had always been safe or take a chance that she could find that safe place in Marissa’s arms again? Escape or finally come back?

  Their descent through wispy clouds was lengthy but finally a breathtaking view of green and grey island against deep blue water was spread out below them. Even though Auckland appeared to be much like most port cities, the expanses of clear, untouched land were breathtaking. Out in the bush she could get very lost for a while, Linda told herself. Very lost.

  She exited the plane just behind Tamryn and they continued to chat and flirt as they claimed their bags and waited through the customs inspections. Finally, they made their way to the main con-course where Tamryn would catch a domestic flight to Dunedin.

  “I should stop at the loo,” Tamryn said.

  “That’s probably a good idea for me too.”

  “There’s a short line.”

  Linda shrugged. “I’m not desperate.”

  “You’re not?” Tamryn brushed her thick hair over her shoulder.

  “I’ve failed utterly then.”

  “You should be careful, you know. Some women might think you were serious.”

  Tamryn reached the front of the queue. The next stall available was oversized for wheelchair access. Glancing over her shoulder as she claimed the stall, Tamryn said, “How do you know I’m not?”

  “Are you?”

  She stood just inside the door, staring at Linda. “I’m not shy.

  We can share.”

  Linda wasn’t aware of joining Tamryn but the door was now shut between them and the rest of the world.

  Tamryn, her cheeks flushed and one hand toying with the top button of her blouse, whispered, “The real question is whether you’re serious. Because I am. Call me curious.”

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  “What exactly is it you want?”

  “I think you know.” The first button was undone then the second, showing an appealing swell of cleavage.

  The usual questions welled up in Linda’s mind. Is it the full red lips? The perfect breasts? The high cheekbones or the deeply curved waist? What piece of me do you want? You have to pick because you don’t get the whole me. There is no whole me anymore.

  She asked no questions and the core of her slipped away to watch as her hands reached for the top button of Tamryn’s slacks.

  Tamryn sighed as she leaned back against the wall. “That’s what I want—it’s my lucky day, isn’t it?”

  “You don’t have to decide that now.” Linda eased the zipper down and noted that Tamryn’s skin was warm and her eyes slightly glassy. There were people near, so she would need to keep her voice low. Her mind was alert for any sign that others realized what they were doing and all the other input she could see from her distant watching mind she methodically absorbed and catego-rized.

  Tamryn was thickly wet and obviously excited. Given the place and time, one or two fingers playing with her clit might be best.

  Her breathing rapidly escalating, Tamryn whispered firmly,

  “This is definitely my lucky day, getting fucked by a beautiful woman like you.”

  Linda watched from somewhere near the ceiling as the beautiful woman fucked Tamryn, even put her hand warningly over Tamryn’s mouth when she came with a little cry. The aftershivers and cooing pleasure noises did penetrate Linda’s awareness, as did the sensual aroma on her fingers, now coated liberally with sweet, slippery wet.

  “That was . . . brilliant.” Tamryn ran her hands lightly over Linda’s shoulders. “You never said where you were headed. I’ve got a spare room. Not that I’d want you to sleep there.”

  “What about that doctor boyfriend of yours? The one you said you were going to marry?”

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  Tamryn shrugged. “He travels a lot.”

  Linda’s felt her smile dim as her core awareness returned fully to her body. She felt slightly ill and knew she could take no pride in the pink flush spilling across Tamryn’s chest. “That’s really not my scene. Even if I am bound for the bush. And that’s a sentence that in the U.S. would make most laugh.”

  “Well, that’s a real shame.” Tamryn once again pushed back her hair, then quickly redid her blouse buttons. “I’m less curious than I was about some things and even more curious than ever about others.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find someone to help you with the rest of your research.” Linda’s dry tone seemed lost on Tamryn, who nodded seriously.

  “I think I will. Meanwhile, thank you. You’re really beau—”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to your research—and the loo.”

  Tamryn fiddled in her handbag, then handed Linda a business card. “If you get down Dunedin way . . .”

  “Sure,” Linda said, tucking the card in her pocket. She slipped out of the stall and heard Tamryn click it locked behind her.

  Backpack slung over one shoulder, she scrubbed her hands clean then departed the restroom. On the way out she flicked Tamryn’s business card into the bin.

  Her plan had been to walk out the front door of the airport and keep going. She’d find a ride to some place small and keep going.

  On her left, at the far end of the ticketing area, was a display of local tours. She walked that direction then stared at the brochure with bungalows set on a beautiful lagoon. For the longest time she couldn’t breathe in.

  She hadn’t even wanted to touch Tamryn. And she hadn’t touched Tamryn, not with any part of her that was capable of feeling anything. It had been just like all the other times.

  Except, of course, Marissa.

  Whatever it was she’d found with Marissa, whatever it was that 87

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  had stayed and felt the pleasure of Marissa’s touch, it was gone now. Could she only get it back with Marissa? Well, Dr. Kirkland with all the answers, what kind of breakthrough was that?

  Walk out the front door, and keep going—that was the plan. It was the safest thing to do. That was what she’d always done in the past. But you can’t get to the future through the past, she told herself. You get to the future by living the present, Dr. Kirkland had said.

  She turned to the ticket counters, heart pounding. She wasn’t strong, she was scared. She wanted to be safe but suddenly safe didn’t seem to be what she’d always thought it was.

  Linda knew there was only one route that would take her to a future she suddenly, desperately wanted to have. She put down a credit card, knowing that her mother’s lawyers would quickly find out she’d used it. By the time they figured out where she was going it wouldn’t matter. She’d be where she needed to be.

  The flight was so long she changed her mind thirty-seven times, but on the thirty-eighth she silenced the last of her doubts.

  This was the only choice she could make. She wanted Marissa, but knew Marissa had no idea what a basket case she had gone to bed with. It would take time, lots of time maybe, to fix that.

  Tension kept her from sleeping and the in-flight movies weren’t diverting. There was little to do but close her eyes and relive every conversation she’d had with Marissa. She touched the square of blue silk from time to time and wondered what she might see in Marissa’s eyes the next time she looked into them.

  U.S. Customs let her in the country and this time walking out of the airport, head held high, was exactly the right thing to do.

  The chilly winter air didn’t bother her. The transit system was familiar and she escaped to the suburbs. In no time she was giving a cab driver the address.

  This was the right thing to do. In spite of all the other confusion and lack of certainty, she knew this was where she had to be if 88

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  she was going to ever have a chance to find that place again with Marissa. She couldn’t build a future from the Kiwi bush or Ozzie outback.
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  The elevator whisked her upward and the confined space allowed her to realize she needed a bath. The humid marketplace in Papeete, followed by nearly twenty hours of recirculated air and the lack of sleep left her sinuses dry and eyes scratchy. The elevator door panels reflected back wild hair, a stained rugby shirt and crumpled shorts.

  She stepped out into the thick carpet, and took advantage of a man keying in the code to get past the receptionist and into the main office.

  “Hey! You can’t go in there!”

  She sidestepped the startled man, who’d turned at the receptionist’s cry. Executives always had the big offices at the far end.

  Aware of the rising clamor behind her, she picked up her pace. She wasn’t watching herself make this journey down the long corridor, she was living it. She was grinning so deeply her jaw hurt. Alarmed glances from everyone she passed said she was acting like a crazy woman, and what better way to go these last few feet, headlong into whatever the future had in store?

  She boldly strode past another scurrying assistant.

  “You can’t go in there!”

  “Yes I can,” Linda answered as she flung open the door.

  For just a moment Linda had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the woman at the desk utterly flummoxed. The onyx eyes widened in shock. Quickly, however, a tiny smile followed but Linda would not let it frighten her again.

  Her voice singsong and regardless of the other people obviously in a very important meeting with the president of Price Investments, Linda proclaimed, “Mom! I’m home!”

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  Chapter 7

  “Look how tanned you are! You’d never know you were in a shipwreck—you look fantastic!” Ocky threw her long arms enthusiasti-cally around Marissa. “Was your flight okay? Tell me everything.”

  Marissa squeezed Ocky with all the strength she had, then let her go. “The flight was fine. I wish I’d planned a stopover in Honolulu, though. The island looked very inviting.”

  As they made their way to baggage claim, Marissa chattered about the cabin service and how tired she was while recognizing the old familiar feeling of low-level excitement that meant Ocky was near. She hadn’t expected that—Linda was still sharply etched in her mind, but her feelings for Ocky apparently hadn’t changed.