Sheltering Dunes

Chapter Twenty-seven

Flynn pulled into the lot of the rescue station half an hour after Mica disappeared with Allie and Bri. The sheriff’s department was across the street, and she couldn’t help but look over, wondering if she shouldn’t just walk in and say that she wanted to talk to Mica. If they wouldn’t let her see Mica, she could sit there and wait until Mica was finished and they released her. They had to release her. Anything else would be unthinkable. Mica might have lived with crime, might have been part of a criminal social organization, but she wasn’t a criminal. There must be some room in the justice system for those who were neither perpetrators nor victims, but casualties of a world in which power and violence ruled above law and humanity. A world where the only currency with which to purchase survival was your soul.

She was amazed that Mica’s soul had survived after so many years of subjugation, but Mica’s humanity was very much intact. She had experienced Mica’s tenderness in every touch. Mica had sacrificed herself for others, and that made her a hero in Flynn’s eyes. Mica was so strong, but she wasn’t superhuman. She shouldn’t be alone now. Flynn couldn’t abandon her, no matter what Mica had sa—

“You’re a little early, aren’t you?” Dave asked, walking out through the open vehicle bay behind her.

Flynn caught herself in mid-step, realizing she’d been halfway across the lot on her way to the sheriff’s department. Headed for Mica. “Hi. I didn’t think you’d be here. You working a double?”

“Yeah, I need the overtime. Wife’s pregnant again.”

He said it like it was a problem, but his grin was huge.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks—so what are you doing here? Aren’t you on sick leave?”

“I was going to ask you and Wheeler if you wanted some extra shifts—if I need a little more time,” Flynn said. She could take a few days off until her ribs were less tender, but she wasn’t sure that would be enough time for her to figure out what she was doing with the rest of her life.

“Sure, I could use the hours. Wheeler’s inside.” Dave put his hands in his pockets and rocked slowly back and forth, his expression one that said he was waiting for her to say something else.

What could she say? That she’d made a mistake, more than one, and she kept repeating them? That she’d gone astray once again, when it mattered more than ever? Mica’s words kept running through her mind, tormenting her with their truth. The pain she’d been able to set aside during the moments she was with Mica had come flooding back when Mica turned away. The worst agony, though, came from knowing she had learned nothing from Debbie’s death. She knew her weaknesses and still she had not been able to change. She’d tried so hard to give Mica the support she needed, but maybe Mica was right. Maybe all she really wanted was to satisfy her own needs.

“You doing okay?” Dave asked.

Flynn jumped. “What? Oh. Yeah—I’m fine.”

“Well, you know, I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“And Flynn,” Dave called as she started into the stationhouse, “I know you’ve got mine. Never doubted it.”

Flynn stopped and turned. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

He waved her off, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, yeah. So take care of business and get back here.”

“Will do.” Flynn found Wheeler, arranged for coverage, and climbed into her car. She headed west on Route 6, figuring it would take her three hours if traffic was light. As she drove, she thought about telling Dave she’d be back. She wondered if she would. But then if she didn’t return, where could she go where once she arrived, she wouldn’t still be alone with her memories and her regrets? And if she left, she would never see Mica again. The ache in her chest expanded until she couldn’t take a full breath.

Time passed slowly. She kept thinking about Mica, wondering if she was free yet. Wondering if Mica would stay around once Allie let her go. She doubted it. La Mara had found Mica, there was no doubt about that. That morning even she had half expected the knock on her door to be followed by someone shouldering through and demanding to know Mica’s whereabouts. Mica had to know she was no longer safe, and she would do what she’d been doing since she’d escaped. She would disappear again.

Flynn rolled down her window. Maybe the cool afternoon air would soothe the aching wound that burned inside her when she thought about never seeing Mica again. Mica’s spirit, her strength, and her stubbornness filled Flynn with excitement and awe. She loved being around her, loved watching her work, loved talking with her, touching her. They’d only been apart for a few hours and she missed her. Making love with her had been incredible. Passionate, tender, exquisitely pleasurable. She’d loved stroking her and feeling her body yield, hearing her break with pleasure. She’d loved giving herself, unconditionally, and knowing that the woman who touched her wanted her. She’d never had that with Evelyn, not without the pall of regret tarnishing the joy.

Flynn drove through the small New England town along tree-shrouded streets brilliant with fall color. Students walked in groups, laughing and carefree. On a knoll above town she turned into the wide gravel drive and made her way through the enormous scrolled iron gates up to the stone mansion. She left her car in the turn-around and went through the huge carved double wooden doors into the enormous vaulted foyer, her footsteps tapping along the stone until she reached the alcove where the receptionist waited.

“Reverend Edwards,” the sexton exclaimed, rising. His wireless glasses sparkled in the sunlight slanting through the tall narrow window behind him. His meticulously trimmed mustache slanted upward as he smiled in greeting. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Hello, Mr. Burns. I know it’s unexpected, but I’d like to speak to the reverend.”

“Certainly. Certainly. I’ll call him right away. Would you like to wait in the rectory?”

“That would be fine,” Flynn said.

He smiled at her uncertainly and she nodded her thanks before turning away to make the familiar walk through the familiar halls to the rectory adjoining the seminary building. Her brother was waiting for her outside his office. He wore jeans and a plain black shirt and his clerical collar. They looked so similar, except her neck was bare, and she felt the absence even more acutely in his presence.

“Flynn.” Matthew kissed her cheek. “It’s good to see you. And about time.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Flynn saw questions in his eyes, questions that she’d avoided for too long. About Evelyn, and Debbie, and her. “I should have come sooner.”

“You’re here now.” He took her arm as he had so many times when as students they’d strolled and talked for hours. “How are you?”

“I’m afraid I’m lost.”

“Your faith or your path to it?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Let’s see if we can sort that out. Shall we walk outside?” Matthew said. “It’s so beautiful, and you’ve given me the perfect excuse to avoid the budget I’m supposed to be reviewing.”

“I’m sorry to arrive with no warning.”

“Don’t be. I’ve missed you. We all have.”

She doubted Evelyn missed her. But Matthew didn’t know about their relationship. She’d ended it as soon as she’d realized Evelyn was seeing them both, and she saw no reason to tell her brother about the past affair if his wife didn’t. “I’ve missed you too.”

The rolling hills of the seminary grounds were still green, although the maples and oaks were dropping their leaves like swatches of blazing confetti. The fall air was crisp, cooler and sharper than on the Cape. She missed the warm scent of the sea already. “I haven’t lost my faith, but I can’t seem to see past myself to its lessons.”

Her brother smiled. “Maybe you just need to see yourself, and the rest will be clear.”

“I’m afraid I see myself too well.”

“Flynn,” he said gently, stopping to sit on a stone bench overlooking the town, “what happened to Debbie was a terrible, terrible tragedy. We all feel it, and in some ways, we are all responsible. You weren’t the only person who could have changed her mind. You weren’t the only person who might have influenced her, who might have given her support. Yes”—he held up his hand—“I know, you counseled her. That’s an enormous responsibility, no matter what the circumstances, but so much more so when we counsel the young, who sometimes are so isolated and feel so alone.”

“If I’d been giving her what she needed,” Flynn said, “she would have come to me when she thought she had no options. She would have talked to me about what she was going to do.”

“You know that isn’t usually what happens, not when someone has truly made up their mind. They almost never tell us. She wasn’t making a plea for help. She had already made her choice.”

“I can’t accept her choice,” Flynn said, her throat burning with months of unshed tears.

“Of course you can’t. Who could? Maybe the reason you feel so lost is you’ve forgotten that we are given free will, the opportunity to make our own choices, even when our choices are wrong or self-destructive. As hard as it is to accept, Debbie chose her path.”

Flynn looked past her brother to the church and the cross at the top of the belfry, the symbols of their faith. Her belief that every individual had a choice, that nothing in life was completely predetermined, was fundamental to her faith. For if that were not so, there would be no purpose in ministering. Her failure had been in forgetting that ultimately, everyone chose their own path, and all she could do was help them see what those paths might be. She sighed. “Someone told me recently that my arrogance prevented me from seeing others’ reality. How can I minister if all I can see is my own belief?”

“This person who told you that, did she know about Debbie?”

“Yes, she did.”

“She’s hard on you. Why is that?”

Flynn pictured Mica in the back of the police car, imprisoned and alone. Remembered the man in the alley and the knife at Mica’s throat. Goose bumps broke out over her flesh. Mica was in danger and she had known it. Mica wanted her gone, and she had said exactly what she knew would drive Flynn away. “She wanted me out of her life.”

“The two of you—you have an intimate relationship?”

“Yes.” Flynn smiled at an image of an exhausted and sated Mica tumbling into her arms after they’d made love. The tight fist in her chest relaxed. “I’m in love with her.”

“How does she feel about you?”

“I don’t know.” Flynn paused. “No, that’s not true. She’s talked to me, told me things that I know she’s kept hidden from others. I know she cares.”

“Then why did she want to drive you away? Why did she deliberately hurt you?”

“Someone is trying to kill her.”

His expression never changed as he folded his hands in his lap and crossed his ankle over his opposite knee, as if he were settling in for a long, friendly conversation. “I think you better start at the beginning.”

So she did, and the more she told him of Mica, the more she knew what she had to do.

*

When Mica hurried past Mitch on her way to the ice machine with an empty ice bucket, he leaned across the bar and caught her arm. She pivoted and shot him a glare. She hated being handled by anyone. Stabbing pain shot through her. She didn’t mind when Flynn touched her. She liked it. She didn’t want to think about Flynn. She didn’t want to keep watching the door. She’d accomplished what she’d wanted. Flynn was gone. She yanked her arm out of Mitch’s grasp. “What?”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” Mitch said quietly. “And besides that, you’re snarling at me. You’re supposed to think I’m the hottest thing on the planet.”

Mica forced herself to smile, although she thought if anyone looked closely they’d be able to tell she was snarling. Mitch did look good, and maybe if she’d been into guys with smoky eyes and sensuous mouths and teasing bulges in their crotches, she’d be smiling at him for real. But when she looked at him, nothing stirred inside her, not the way she’d come alive when she’d looked at Flynn. And now when she thought of Flynn, she just hurt. “I don’t fool around when I’m working.”

“Just pretend to like me a little bit.” Mitch leaned over and caught her hand, tugged her against the bar, and kissed her.

She hadn’t expected it, and because she knew him, she hadn’t been on guard. His mouth was soft and warm and for an instant, she compared the kiss to Flynn’s. When Flynn kissed her, even the very first time, she felt a connection that she didn’t feel now. Flynn’s lips had been electric against hers. For the sake of the show they were supposed to be putting on, she forced herself not to jerk away, but let him slide his mouth over hers for another minute. When the backs of his fingers glanced over the outer curve of her breast, she figured they’d given everyone enough of a look. She bit his lip and he pulled back, laughing.

“Hey,” he complained, loud enough for everyone to know he liked it.

“Save it until later, baby,” she said, also making sure she was heard.

He dropped back on his stool, looking pleased. “I’ve got plenty left for later.”

She snorted and spun away. She took one step and stopped, her heart rocketing into her throat.

Flynn stood at the end of the bar, her mouth set in a tight angry line. Mica was so used to Flynn being calm and cool no matter what was happening, the flare of anger in her eyes was as exciting as it was ominous.

“We might have a problem,” Mica said softly.

Mitch swiveled and followed her gaze. “I take it that’s your girl?”

“Was. Was my girl.”

“I don’t think she agrees with you.”