Pushed to the Limit (Quid Pro Quo 1) Page 3

“AND SO, with respect, we consign Kenneth Lord’s soul to God,” Reverend Jonas Taylor said, therewith ending the memorial service.

  Calmly, Sydney removed the wedding ring she’d worn for little more than two days. Hardly aware of the drizzle or the people surrounding her, she ran her fingertip around the thick band, its rough exterior simulating a gold nugget, its interior engraved, “Kenneth loves Sydney.” Silent tears mingled with the light rain to wash her cheeks as she kissed the symbol of a union that hadn’t been ordained.

  The bit of gold flung out to sea, its trajectory fierce and sure as it joined the man who’d given it to her.

  When the ocean roared its acceptance of the token of her love, Sydney closed her eyes. The moment lid touched lid, encasing her hot pain, she saw him. Her Kenneth. As alive as he’d been when she’d married him, not as he’d appeared before the justice of the peace, but standing over her bed in his house.

  A house and a bed they had never shared.

  Rather a premonition than a memory, she realized.

  And so real. Oh, so very real. Her head grew light and she swayed as a weak protest passed her lips. A protective arm settled around her shoulders and snapped her eyes open. Judge Jasper Raferty was at her side as he always had been whenever one of his children needed him.

  “Dad, h-he can’t be dead,” she whispered.

  Her blood pulsed in jagged throbs and filled her with a growing anxiety that was all too familiar. An anxiety that had threatened her reason during the past months. Brow furrowed, she met expressions of concern and pity.

  “Now, Sydney, just because the body wasn’t found, don’t–”

  ”Dad, please.” She would remain calm, but she had to make them understand. “I saw him.”

  “Where?”

  She sensed her father’s disbelief before he uttered the single word. But then, his doubt didn’t surprise her. He’d always been the voice of reason, had always dismissed what he had called her childhood daydreams. He’d never wanted to understand. She couldn’t ignore the light-headed feeling that continued to plague her. Nor the familiar chill. Like a somnambulist, she pulled free of his arms and approached the edge of the cliff.

  “Sydney.”

  Her sister’s worried voice. But Asia was as powerless to stop her as their father.

  Sydney dropped to her hands and knees and told herself to see Kenneth in the water. But, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make the image gel. Instead she saw the shadowy bedroom and Kenneth holding out his hand for her to join him. Double doors behind Kenneth were open. Wind ruffled his dark hair as it had on the cliff. And he was wearing a yellow shirt partially open, revealing his broad chest.

  She shivered.

  The vision was so real that she fought for a second when strong hands hooked under her arms and lifted. Kenneth’s image faded once more, leaving in his place the roiling waters that had left her a widow.

  Or had they?

  Bewildered, she looked up into her brother’s aquamarine eyes shadowed with compassion. Dakota’s thick lashes were spiked, wet from the rain that matted his dark ash blond hair and rolled down his worried-looking face.

  “Come on, Sydney, let’s go back to the house,” he urged.

  “What if Kenneth didn’t really drown, Dakota? What if he’s not dead?”

  “I know you want to believe that.”

  ”But you don’t.”

  Her brother’s eyes mirrored her own perplexity. Of her two siblings, he had always been the more sensitive to her. Of her entire family, he alone had believed in her ability to see things others couldn’t. But even he had been glad when she’d closed off that part of her life and had put it behind her. He’d never said so, but she’d sensed what others had called her “gift” had made Dakota nearly as uncomfortable as Asia or their parents.

  Maybe there was no gift, never had been.

  Maybe she was going crazy.

  “She’s just experiencing denial,” Asia whispered to their father who stood rigid and white-faced.

  “It’s natural under the circumstances,” Reverend Taylor added.

  Yes, natural, Sydney silently echoed. The last few months had been stressful enough to push anyone to the limit. Now this. She was seeing things because she was tired. All she needed was some rest undisturbed by dreams. Then she would be fine. She needed to forget about the premonition and get some sleep.

  Forget about Kenneth.

  Forget...

  Staring at the ocean, she told herself she had to make peace with the truth. She must believe her husband had been consigned to a watery grave, his body forever enveloped in cold unfeeling arms. Dead. Kenneth was dead. And so was the fantasy.

  She whispered, “Dakota, take me away from here.”

  He tightened his hold and turned her away from the scene of the nightmarish accident toward the house that would be hers at least until Kenneth’s estate was settled. Kenneth’s parents were long dead and no one had been able to contact his sister Martha in Portland. She couldn’t just pack her bags and leave.

  “My deepest sympathies, Mrs. Lord,” Reverend Taylor said.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

  “God rarely gives advance warning when he calls his children.”

  She’d had warning of a sort, Sydney thought guiltily as Dakota urged her forward past the few mourners, but she hadn’t known how to interpret the dreams.

  How sad that Kenneth’s memorial service had only been attended by her own family, the local minister and a couple of town residents. Officer Mick Brickman had responded to her call about Kenneth. Parnell Anderson must have been one of Kenneth’s friends. Passing the two men who stood shoulder-to-shoulder as if they had been sharing secrets, Sydney glanced at Anderson’s rough features, which were set in a bland expression, hardly indicative of grief.

  She must be imagining things again. Why else would the auburn-haired man be present if not to mourn? Kenneth had told her Parnell Anderson and his family owned half of Stone Beach. Perhaps he felt obliged to express the town’s condolences.

  “You have my sincere regrets,” he murmured as if he’d been privy to her thoughts.

  Sydney fastened onto his flat blue-eyed gaze, yet refused to explore too deeply. Still, getting the distinct feeling he wasn’t being up-front with her, she took a step back toward her brother. Dakota tightened one arm around her.

  “Sorry we couldn’t find the body to put your mind at rest,” Brickman added.

  Startled speechless by his insincere tone – as if he were saying what was expected of him – she merely stared. Water splashed into her eyes and she realized the drizzle had turned into a steady rain.

  Dakota squeezed her shoulders and urged, “Come on, Syd.”

  “Thank you both for coming to the service,” she murmured, trying not to let her speculations about the men bother her. She wouldn’t be able to think clearly until she got some rest.

  The walk with its painful memories only forty-eight hours old exhausted her. She remembered every rock or tree she had passed in her flight to the house... her last desperate attempt to save Kenneth even knowing it was too late. A front window was boarded up. She’d broken the glass to let herself in and call for help, but the searchers hadn’t found Kenneth’s body.

  If only they had, she wouldn’t have imagined he might still be alive.

  EVERY TIME Sydney closed her eyes the dreams began. Trapped. Surrounded by fire. Falling. Danger everywhere.

  She was exhausted and feeling more fragile than she wanted to admit when the family convened in the living room the following evening. The past three days had been a living nightmare, one from which she wanted to run. But nightmares had the power to follow. So she would stay, make her peace with herself and settle Kenneth’s estate before moving on.

  Feeling as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders, she curled up on the couch where she sipped at a brandy Dakota pushed on her. He parked himself in front of a windowed wall
and stared out at the gray skies that reflected her own mood.

  “You’ll feel better once you get to Seattle,” Jasper Raferty suddenly announced from the chair across from the couch.

  Sydney realized he meant her. “I’m not going to Seattle. This will be my home for the immediate future.”

  “She can’t stay here alone,” Jasper said, looking from his younger daughter who sat on the floor, back to the couch, to his son. “Tell her, Dakota. She listens to you.”

  “If she wants to stay, that’s up to her.”

  Sydney gave him a grateful half-smile. “I want to stay.”

  “I’ll stay with you,” Asia volunteered.

  Sydney knew her younger sister did so out of love. She patted Asia’s long ash blond hair, almost silver compared to her own streaked ash brown. “You’ve got a shop to run and this is high tourist season.”

  Asia leaned her head back to the cushion and looked at Sydney from the upside-down position. “Port Townsend can survive without me for a few days. And Jeanne can run the shop.”

  “You’ve already been gone for several days,” Sydney reminded her. “All of you have lives to get back to, work to do, while I have...”

  She didn’t want to say nothing. She had memories, as few as they were. And she had to get her life in order.

  “I’d like to stay,” Asia insisted.

  “And I need to be alone.”

  The ensuing silence lasted mere seconds. Her father coughed and said, “Being alone at a time like this isn’t healthy.”

  “Perhaps it wasn’t for you when Mom died.” Because even though she was nothing like her pragmatic father, Sydney knew he loved her, she tried to soften the statement. “I need to have quiet time. Time to think.”

  “So you can conjure up a dead man?”

  His skepticism, ready at the fore, hurt her even though she was trying to convince herself that she really had imagined things this time, that she’d been reacting to the stress of the situation. But her father had always been didactic with her. Judge Jasper Raferty had never allowed his highly imaginative child to develop what some people considered her gifts.

  And after years of feeling different – alienated – she had put what she eventually saw as a curse behind her. She’d started over, made a new life for herself amongst offbeat, creative people who probably wouldn’t view her as a sideshow freak even if they knew about the dreams and premonitions. But now she was either in the midst of a nervous breakdown or her past was catching up to her. She needed to decide which and to deal with the situation before she could find happiness again.

  Not that she would ever find another Kenneth, she thought, choking back a sob.

  Asia’s hand slipped into hers. “Hey, want to go for a walk or something?”

  Dry-eyed despite the emotions that welled within her, Sydney scrambled off the couch. “No. I, uh, just need some rest. And I think you should all leave.” Hearing her father’s sharp intake of breath, she said, “I love you and I thank you for being here, but it’s time for you to go. I’ll call you in a few days.”

  Before she could receive more well-intended advice, Sydney headed for the guest room she was using. Though she didn’t feel comfortable surrounded by an abundance of opulence that bordered on bad taste – the furnishings belonged in a mansion rather than a simple seaside home – she hadn’t been able to face the master bedroom that she and Kenneth would have shared. The person who had decorated the guest room had an inflated sense of self-worth. Disturbed ego. Something Sydney had grown to dislike in her dealings with such people through her work.

  She wasn’t aware that Dakota followed her upstairs until she was about to close the door.

  “Can I come in?”

  In silent agreement, she turned from the doorway. “Think I need to be tucked in, do you?”

  “Among other things. As I remember, you used to like my bedtime stories.”

  Sydney pulled a face. “When I was ten, maybe. In case your memory is failing, I just hit thirty-two.”

  “I’m still your big brother. And I still love you.”

  “But...?”

  “No buts.” He turned back the satin quilt. “Get in.”

  Following orders, Sydney slipped into the ostentatious four-poster. She allowed herself the luxury of a closeness she hadn’t felt in a long time... until she’d met Kenneth. Dakota sat next to her and leaned back against a garishly carved post.

  “Once upon a time,” he began while stroking her forehead, “there lived a young woman who always felt slightly out of step with the world around her.”

  “Hey, this isn’t really necessary,” Sydney told him, immediately discomfited. “Besides, as I remember, you used to tell me horror stories, not fairy tales.”

  He put a finger over her lips. “Shush. Let me finish. Despite the fact that she was different, this young woman had everything going for her. She was bright, creative, enthusiastic. And most important, she had a heart of gold. Unfortunately, when she finally found someone to share that heart with, she lost him and thought everything was lost.”

  Unbidden tears sprang to her eyes. “Maybe she was right.”

  “She was wrong. All she needed was time to heal.”

  ”And then everything would be great and she’d live happily ever after. How can you be so sure about the future, Dakota?”

  “Because I know you. You’re not just a survivor,” he said, continuing to stroke her forehead, to relax her in spite of her tightly wound feelings. “You’re a winner.”

  “Of awards, maybe.” She’d always been good at creating images as the head of an advertising creative team. “Awards don’t count for much in the long run.”

  “You’re a winner at life, Syd. You’ve got to believe that. We learn something from loss. We find strength in it and go on.”

  Dakota knew something of loss himself, Sydney remembered. He’d been madly in love only to be betrayed by the woman. Maureen hadn’t died, but a piece of her brother’s heart had.

  As had a piece of hers.

  Dakota’s gentle massage vanquished such unwelcome thoughts from her mind. The stress and sleepless hours of the past days caught up with her and Sydney let herself go...