Chapter 3 #2
Ricky was still holding my hand, and at some point in the last several minutes his head had sunk onto my shoulder, so I figured it was up to me to take the lead in responding.
I only wished I knew what to say. “I’m sorry, too,” I tried, feeling sure I was getting the tone and emphasis all wrong. “About your brother, I mean.”
She nodded solemnly, but didn’t say anything more for a moment, leaving me to wonder whether I’d gotten it right after all, or even more wrong than I’d thought.
I decided a little clarification might help.
“We had a shock, but you’ve had a loss. What we’ve gone through doesn’t compare to what your family is going through. ”
“That’s very kind of you to say,” she said, finally setting my mind at ease. “But I don’t think we should minimize your shock, either. You both look exhausted.”
Mary Alice rejoined us at our table. “Perfect timing,” said Lis to her cousin. “How can I help with getting everyone situated, especially these two? You’re down two rooms, right?”
“That’s right,” Mary Alice said. “I’m afraid the sheriff has asked that you move out of your room,” she told us, “not that you’d probably want to stay there anyway.” I nodded my agreement, though I wondered if another room would look any different.
“Okay,” said Lis. “Well, Mother is with me, so that frees up her room for Mr. Warner and Mr. Popp. Richard and Rachel had a second room, didn’t they, for the girls? Could Rachel move in there?”
“Yes, I think that would work,” agreed Mary Alice.
She pulled a phone out of her pocket. “I’m asking Erik to give Aunt Cecilia’s room a quick once-over,” she said as she finished tapping out a message, raising her eyes to me.
“We’ll get you into your new room in about ten minutes, and then you can both get some sleep, okay? ”
When Erik led us to our new room a few minutes later, I was too tired to notice whether he still found me fascinating. The only thing fascinating to me was the idea of crawling into bed.
The room was largely the same as our old one, but as long as I avoided looking in the direction of our balcony, I found that it didn’t bother me. Almost reflexively I flopped onto the bed, kicking my shoes off and deciding that that was as much as I needed to change before going to sleep.
Ricky gave me a dull-eyed stare. “I guess I’ll take the couch.”
“Don’t be silly,” I murmured, my eyes closing and my brain going into that weird near-sleep state where nothing really gets to me the way it usually does and I say whatever I want without having to think about it, the way I assume everyone else’s brains always work.
“We can share. I don’t care. Neither of us should have to sleep on a couch. ”
“Thank you, Oliver,” Ricky said quietly, and I felt him sit down on the bed somewhere behind me, then felt the shift of his weight as he lay down beside me.
I reached an arm behind me in his general direction with a vague idea to give him a welcoming pat on the arm or back, but ended up thumping him a little harder than I expected to in the middle of the chest. I still didn’t care. Sleep-me was pure id.
“G’night, Ricky,” I drawled into my pillow, and I heard him emit a soft chuckle in response.
At some point in the night, something in the position of my body jolted me awake. I discovered that my unconscious maneuvering had brought me right up to Ricky’s back, our legs curved together and one of my arms draped over him. I was, I realized with more than a little surprise, spooning him.
It felt nice, but in my sudden clarity, something terrible occurred to me.
Ricky had asked me on a date once before, back when we were in Washington, mere minutes before a body crossed our path for the first time.
He had asked me again this afternoon, and again a dead person had crashed our evening.
Were we cursed? What disaster was I courting with this fresh new act of apparently deadly intimacy?
Figuring I should beat a retreat, I gingerly began to extract my arm, but with a happy little moan, Ricky’s sleeping hand intercepted my wrist and pulled me back into him.
I felt a tiny pang of guilt, but as sleep descended once more and my impulsive side took back over, I decided that this felt good enough to risk it and hope that we didn’t wake up to more news of death and mayhem.
By morning, we had drifted apart once more. I wondered if either of us was going to say anything about our somnolent activities; Ricky didn’t, so I didn’t either.
As I was waiting for Ricky to finish getting showered and dressed in the bathroom, I braved a look toward the French door to the balcony.
All looked peaceful, so I crept closer to the door for a better look.
After confirming that there was nothing out there that shouldn’t be, I was able to relax enough to take in the sweeping view of the ocean, sparkling blue where the rising sun hit it as it left the little inlet directly before the inn and stretched out to the west. Somewhere more directly below was the little beach, but seeing that would require actually going out onto the balcony, a step I wasn’t quite ready for.
Ricky came out of the bathroom and joined me in front of the door looking out at the view. He put an arm around me, pulling me into a sort of side hug. “Thanks for stepping up last night,” he said.
“Of course,” I said, reaching around to give him a little squeeze back. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Are you feeling any better?”
“Much.”
“And looking out at the balcony isn’t too … much?” I turned to study his reaction.
He remained placid. “No, it’s okay.”
I pulled away from him and went to the sofa. “I’ll be honest, it was a little unsettling for me at first this morning.” Ricky turned, leaning his back against the glass door to look at me. “And something else,” I continued, then paused. “No, it’s silly. It’s a coincidence, that’s all.”
He raised a curious eyebrow and gave me a small smile. “What is?”
“Well …” I could feel myself starting to blush. “It’s just that … you’ve asked me out twice now. …”
His smile broadened. “I have, haven’t I. And I don’t really recall you saying yes either time. That should bother you—it bothers me.”
“No, that’s not it,” I said, starting to feel even more flustered and embarrassed than I already had, which I had thought was quite a bit. “I didn’t say yes? Well, I didn’t say no, did I? Anyway, no, what I mean is, both times you—I didn’t say no, did I?—but, both times somebody … um, died.”
Ricky’s brow knit, and he came to sit next to me on the sofa. “That’s a heavy thought,” he said slowly. “But, Oliver,” he said, taking my hand, “you know it is a coincidence, right? There is zero connection between one thing and the other—you know that, right?”
I looked down at my shoes, not seeing them because I was blinded by embarrassment and shame. “Intellectually, yes, I know that,” I said in a small voice. “But I’m having a hard time not feeling weird about it.”
We sat there a moment, still hand in hand though I couldn’t bring myself to look at Ricky. Finally he said, “I mean, I’d be willing to leave a trail of dead bodies in our wake if that’s what it took—”
“Ricky!” I was looking at him now, trying to convey horror at his bad taste but mostly trying not to laugh. He was unperturbed either way.
“—But if you feel weird about it, we can drop the subject for now.” He started to get up, reaching for the camera bag he had flung on a nearby chair the night before.
“Don’t we have a hike to do this morning or something?
Let’s get out of here. Change the subject.
Change the vibes. Get away from this talk about death. ”
I followed him toward the door, but as he reached it he stopped and turned back, putting a finger to his chin, pretending to have an idea. “You know, there might be a way to break this little curse you’re so worried about.”
I rolled my eyes and smiled. “What’s that?”
“Next time I ask … say yes.”