Always Watching

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I gave Kevin my address and sped home to quickly tidy while he was picking up the food. Though my home is usually clean, I wanted the security of a last-minute check. I rushed around, shoving the books and notes that were piled up on my kitchen table back into my office. The doorbell rang.

It was Kevin, wearing a maroon rugby shirt and jeans. I took his jacket and, as he walked past me into the house, caught the scent of soap and cologne, noticing that the back of his hair was damp—so he’d also tidied up. He looked around admiringly as he made himself at home in my kitchen and set the take-out bag on the counter. “Your home is very nice.” He turned and smiled.

I tried to smile back as I got down some bowls. “Thanks.”

We met eyes. His voice turned somber as he said, “I know you have a lot on your mind. I just want to be a friend and support you through it.”

I felt a mixture of relief and disappointment at his words, wondering at the latter. I turned to put the kettle on and said, “Do you like green tea?”

Behind me, he said, “Actually, I brought us some sake. I thought you might need something stronger.”

I set the kettle down. “You’re probably right.”

It had been a long time since I’d had miso soup, or sake, and both sent a warm glow through my body as we sat at the table and talked. I shared my feelings about the scene at the Monkey House, while Kevin carefully listened. Afterward, he confided that he’d had a younger brother who became an addict. His brother eventually got his life together, and they were very close now.

Lulled by the sake, we moved into the living room, the fire unwinding my muscles even more. I began to think that maybe Kevin was right. Even if Lisa had gone to a retreat, that didn’t mean she’d stay after it was over. She’d dry out, then hopefully make some changes with her life. She wouldn’t be as vulnerable since the center was drug-free except for marijuana. Lisa was also older than I was when we joined the commune, and she was strong-minded, a fighter. She probably wouldn’t even finish the retreat once she found out how many rules there were. They wouldn’t have time to mess with her. Daniel had even said himself that lots of people left after the first weekend. Meanwhile, all I could do was accept that I’d done everything I could and there was nothing else to try.

As I studied Kevin by the firelight, his hair shining and his brown eyes reflecting the flickering flames, he told me about some of his travels. I watched his hand on his glass, his ease of movement as he brought it to his lips again and again. He had just finished explaining some of the meditation techniques he’d learned in India, when I said, “You’ve obviously done a lot of traveling. Did you go on your own? Or were you married?”

“When I was younger, but I was single when I was traveling. That was one of the main reasons I went on the trip, so I could do some soul-searching.”

“Divorced?” I imagined him with someone he met while at university, but they grew apart as they began their careers—a common occurrence.

“Nope, widowed.”

I stared at him, my drink halfway to my mouth. He was a widower too?

Kevin, his face vaguely amused, said, “You okay?”

“Yes, sorry. I was just surprised I didn’t know that.”

“I haven’t told anyone at the hospital.”

Another surprise. He seemed like such an open book I wondered what else he wasn’t sharing. I also realized his hand was on the back of the couch. If I leaned backward, my neck would touch his skin, but I didn’t move. Instead I said, “Did you know that I’d lost my husband?”

He nodded. “Someone mentioned it.”

I wanted to ask who, but had a feeling it was probably one of the nurses, remembering that we’d talked about it once when the hospital had a fund-raiser for cancer. I said, “How did you lose your wife?”

“It was about six years ago. She was coming home from the school—she was a teacher—and a drunk driver hit her head-on.”

I shook my head. “My God, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. I was in bad shape for a long while. We were ready to start a family, so I felt like I’d lost everything at once.”

I nodded, understanding all too well. When we lose someone, we also grieve over all the things that will never be.

He said, “I joined a support group, made some good friends, and pulled through it.”

“Have you had any relationships since?” I held my breath, in anticipation of his answer, wondering what kind of response I was hoping for.

He turned slightly so he was facing me, his arm still resting on the back of the couch. I could feel the heat of his body, the sensation of his skin so close to mine, sending a shiver from the base of my spine up to the back of my neck.

“Nothing serious. I just haven’t found anyone I really connected with. It was always too easy to keep them at a distance.” He took a sip of sake, then added, “I was starting to wonder if maybe I was never going to feel strongly about anyone again, but then…” He paused, his cheeks flushed slightly.

I said, “But then?”

Still looking hesitant, he held my gaze. “I met you, and I realized that maybe it was possible.”

My chest tightened, the moment slowing, everything that he was thinking and feeling reflected in his eyes. My face must have signaled something because he reached over and took my sake glass out of my hand while his other arm dropped from the back of the couch to my neck, his fingers splaying at the nape, gently turning my face toward his. He leaned forward, pressed his lips to mine. I also leaned into the kiss, tasting warm sake on his tongue, heat spreading through my body. His hands tangled in my hair. Mine reached up and curled around his biceps, feeling the hard muscles there. He led the way, teasing and gentle, then more passionate. My own ardor grew, my breath coming faster. Then I remembered Lisa’s words. I could feel Dad, like he was in the room with me.

My mind filled with the image of kissing Paul, suddenly aware of the different feeling of Kevin’s mouth. I opened my eyes, and caught sight of Paul’s photo on the mantel. I pulled back, trying to catch my breath, disoriented, like waking from a dream, my thoughts sluggish. Kevin was watching me, confusion in his eyes, and also concern, his breath ragged.

I stood up. “I have to… I have to get something from the kitchen.”

In the kitchen, still flustered, I started picking up our dishes and running hot water, thinking, You can’t just leave him sitting on the couch. You have to say something. But what was I going to say? I’m afraid that my dead husband can see us? I felt a presence behind me and turned around, brandishing a scrub brush like a weapon. Kevin’s dark eyes were soft; his hand reached out to my wrist, holding me in place. He said, “Did you want me to go home?” It was the vulnerability in his face that did me in, shy, a little hopeful. I shook my head, not able to find words to explain the mix of feelings running through my body. I tugged my wrist free and dropped the scrub brush into the sink behind me.

He stepped forward, wrapped his hand around mine. My slippery fingers entwined with his, the scent of lemon soap filling the air. He pressed his body against mine, the hard edge of the sink bending me backward slightly, his mouth covering mine, soft and gentle. In my mind a quote came forth, Life is for the living. It was something Paul would say to me when I mourned the loss of one of our animals too long. I stepped outside of myself for a moment, stepped outside of the guilt and the fear of letting go, the fear of betraying Paul.

What do you want, Nadine?

I wanted Kevin to stay the night, wanted to feel his body holding me close in the dark, wanted the wonder and joy of exploring a new person.

I took Kevin’s hand and led him to my bedroom.

In the morning, I woke with a start when I felt a large male arm wrap around my body. My face warmed as images from the previous night flashed through my mind, each more erotic than the last, wondering how to handle the situation. It had been a while since I’d had to deal with the “morning after.” I eyed my housecoat hanging on the back of the door, wondering if I could get to it before Kevin woke. Kevin, sensing I was awake, pulled me tight against his chest. His mouth nuzzled my neck, sending shivers down my spine as he said, “Good morning.”

“Morning.” I wanted to lean back into his embrace, wanted to enjoy the moment, but the other part of me, the part that was no longer silenced by sake, wasn’t sure how far I wanted to take this, how far it could even go.

Kevin said, “I can hear your thoughts from here.”

I said, “Oh? And what am I thinking?”

“That you’d love to have dinner with me this week.”

My nerves came back alive, the sense of things moving too fast, standing on an edge of a cliff and it crumbling beneath my feet while I tried to backpedal.

“I don’t know…. I have a lot on my plate right now.”

He was silent for a couple of beats, then said, “I really enjoyed spending time with you last night, Nadine—and no, not just in bed.” He sat up behind me. I turned, so I was on my back, looking up at him. He smiled down. “But we can take this as slow as you want, okay?”

I nodded. “Thanks.” Wondering what “this” was to him. A one-night stand? A casual sexual relationship? Friends with benefits?

He said, “Can I at least have a cup of coffee before you kick me out?”

I smiled back. “I think I can make that happen.”

We had coffee, sitting at the table together, an easy familiarity already growing between us at the simple mundane ritual, passing the sugar and cream, our hands touching, sneaking peeks at each other over the rims of our mugs. I talked again about my concerns for Lisa, which had also come roaring back with the morning light. Kevin still thought I should wait another couple of days, and I could see the sense in what he was saying, but it didn’t calm my fears. Saying good-bye to Kevin at the doorway sent another wave of awkwardness through me, but he just pulled me in for a hug and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

As he started down the stairs, he said, “You let me know when you’re ready for that dinner, okay?”

I nodded and watched from the corner of my front deck as he walked down the driveway to his car, which he’d parked on the other side of the road. I heard a car start up farther down the street, then the sound of screeching tires. A truck roared past my house just as Kevin reached the end of the driveway. A couple of more steps out into the road, and it would’ve hit him. I let out a gasp and clutched the railing. He turned around, our eyes meeting. Did you see how close that was? He gave a don’t-worry-I’m-okay wave, but my heart was still beating fast as he drove away.

I was almost sure it was the same truck I’d seen slowing down in front of my house.

I called Corporal Cruikshank and explained about the truck, mentioning that I had seen it before, and that I’d found a footprint in my yard one morning and was getting some hang-ups. She took down the description of the truck, but I wasn’t positive about the make or model. She said I should try to get a license plate number next time, and be aware of my surroundings when I left my home. I had a shower and made the bed, all the while trying to convince myself that the truck had probably belonged to one of the college kids who lived at the end of the street. They often raced up and down, and I worried they would hit someone or an animal one of these days. The night I saw them outside, they’d probably just been texting or adjusting the stereo. But I was having a hard time believing it.

I wasn’t working that day, so I busied myself with chores. Though, I did take a drive by the Monkey House in case the drug addict had been lying, and Lisa was still there. I even checked inside again, but someone else was now staying in the room where I’d found her before. I also stopped by the hospital to grab a book from my office, wondering if I might run into Kevin. There was no sign of him.

Later that night I was cleaning up after dinner when the phone rang, showing a private caller. “Hello?” I repeated it several times, but was only greeted by silence. I said, “Lisa? Is that you?” Then I heard a click. I set the phone back down, a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. What if it had been Lisa? What if she was hurt, or sick, and couldn’t speak? Again I considered going to the commune and demanding to see her. I thought about Kevin’s words of caution. Damn it all. I had to know if she was okay.

I was in the process of getting my purse and keys together when the phone rang again. This time it was Steve Phillips.

“I was able to get hold of a friend with a cadaver dog. He was planning on doing some training exercises anyway, so he’s going to come up to Shawnigan tomorrow, and we’ll take a walk down by the old commune, see what we sniff out.” There was an edge of excitement to his voice. “Did you want to join us?”

“Please.” My blood surged with new hope. If they found something at the site, they might bring Aaron in sooner. If there was enough bad press, the retreats might even shut down. I explained to Steve what had transpired the day before.

He said, “It’s possible they targeted Lisa.” I sat down on my hall bench, fear taking my legs out from underneath me. “But she could’ve also got that drug addict to make up the story to throw you off. Either way, if she’s in there, she probably won’t like you showing up. I’ve got a grown son. He was hell on wheels in his twenties. He always did the opposite of what I wanted—just to piss me off.”

“Unfortunately, she’s the same.” I set my keys down beside me.

“My son, he came out of it all right. Maybe just give her some time.”

“Lisa’s had a couple of close calls.” I flashed to the image of her pale in bed after her overdose. How many more could she survive? What if something went wrong at the center? “What time should I come up in the morning?”

I had to do something.

That night, I woke abruptly with every nerve alert, sure that I’d heard a noise. I lay quiet in the dark, my heart thudding as I strained my ears. What was it? Something outside? The truck slowing down again? There was nothing but silence, then the feeling that I wasn’t alone. Someone was standing nearby.

I reached up and slapped the light switch beside my bed, grabbing for the phone and my mace at the same time. I rolled off the side of the bed, crouched in a defensive position as I faced my room, ready to attack. There was no one there, just the faintest whiff of lavender floating in the air, like a memory.