The Secret He Keeps Page 22

  “Why couldn’t you have feelings for me now?”

  “I’ve already married Scott.”

  “But he’s gone, Rachel.”

  “I know that. You don’t think I don’t know that?” She stood, pulling down the zipper on her coat. She needed oxygen to her chest. “But it would be like cheating now.”

  “How?”

  She smoothed back her hair, like a mental patient would do. “It just would. I’d feel like I was betraying him. You were his best friend. Wouldn’t you feel the same way? Like he had to leave this giant party of life and we get to stay, and then ignore the fact that he’s gone and start kissing each other, and stuff like that.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, fine. Well, let’s go. I’m getting hot, and this is getting nowhere.” She sprinted to the front door. Alcohol and fast.

  Dane pulled the door shut behind them and they walked the three houses down to Edie and Shawn’s.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Complicating Things

  Penny Cabot opened the door and gasped when she saw Rachel. “Shit, girl, get in here.”

  She pulled her by the arm as though she had discovered a lost person. Rachel gave her a quick hug and threw her coat on top of all the others on the floor beside the closet door. She lost track that Dane was behind her when Penny dragged her to the living room. It was packed. People she hadn’t seen in years. Mostly from the medical arena. Shawn was a pharmaceutical drug buyer. He flunked out during medical school, confessing it was his father’s dream and not his. But the money in medicine lured him back to the business side of it. And by the looks of his glamorous house, there was a lot of sick people in the world.

  “Look who’s here, Maria.” Penny showed her off like a trophy, hand gestures and all.

  Maria was the wench who liked Scott. She made sure to let Rachel and Scott know it. Always wearing low-cut blouses on boat rides and bar meet-ups. She was the type who forgot she, herself, was wearing a wedding ring. In her defense, Melvin, her husband, was gross. He never closed his mouth when he ate, and he scratched himself while he was carrying on a conversation with you. Maria only married him because he was a plastic surgeon. She got her boobs for free. Probably never intending to use them on her husband.

  “Oh, hi, Rachel. It’s nice you’re coming out in public again.”

  Rachel was certain Maria rolled her eyes when she found out she survived the car wreck. “It’s good to see you, too, Maria. Is that a new nose you’re sporting there?”

  Penny pulled her to the kitchen and whispered in her ear. “Play nice, Rachel.”

  Rachel stopped to say hi to a few more people. She kept looking for Dane. So much for him being a wingman on her first exhibition. Maybe he was in a back bedroom getting lucky. That would make it so much easier for her.

  “So how is it I never see you at the stores or anywhere?” Kristy asked her.

  Kristy was the first one of the crowd who got her medical license, got married the next week and stayed home ever since, rearing children. She probably did it for her father, too. Rachel was glad she certainly didn’t do any of it for anyone but herself. She knew she wanted to go into medicine since she watched a reality show on television about the day and life in the ER. Instead of hiding her eyes when the scalpel pressed to the skin, her eyes bulged to see all she could.

  “I guess I shop for groceries at night, Kristy.” Mostly at gas stations in the beginning, she thought.

  “Well, Penny, I’m going to find Edie to say good-bye. I told the kids I’d be home early to tuck them in.”

  “Okay, Kristy.”

  Penny poured Rachel something from a large glass pitcher. She stuck a mint leaf on top of it before she handed it to her. “Enjoy this. It’s Edie’s secret recipe, but don’t drink it too fast. It’s lethal.”

  Rachel took hold of it like a junkie, smelling the rim before consuming half the tall glass. She hadn’t had a sip of alcohol since Collette returned home. “Man, that’s the stuff, right there. What is it?”

  “She calls it Edie’s happy juice. Damn if I know. She has a couple more pitchers in the fridge. Luckily most everyone else is drinking beer.”

  Penny took her over to the couch. Most everyone had moved to the basement, where she understood there was a billiard competition. It was probably where Dane disappeared to.

  “So, I heard you lost some of your memory. Is it true?”

  No bush-beating there. “I did.”

  “Well, why do you suppose that happened?”

  Suddenly Rachel felt as if she were lying in a petri dish, being looked at through a scope. “Oh, right. I forgot you went into psychology, Penny. Where is your office?”

  “I went into clinical psychology. I work with law enforcement. You know, officers dealing with issues after they shoot someone. Or when their partner dies. That sort of thing.”

  Rachel took another healthy slurp. It was bringing a smile to her face—making this line of questions tolerable. “Do you like it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, do you have any theories about me? Why I lost my memory?”

  Penny hiked her leg up on the sofa and moved closer to Rachel, as if trying to read the capillaries in her eyeball. “Well, I don’t think you ‘lost’ it. I think there’s something you’re not wanting to remember. Memories are never truly lost—they’re there.”

  “I’ve thought about that. I think I’m leaning toward that theory. You see, my dad was an alcoholic, and from what I hear, Scott was drinking pretty heavy the year I can’t remember. Does that seem plausible to you? Did you know he was drinking a lot?”

  “I was so busy in my job, I kind of stopped coming to things. But that’s probably a good guess for your memory. Typically, it takes something more traumatic to stop someone from remembering something, though.”

  “Traumatic? Like the accident?”

  “It could be, but I was thinking it might be like something before the accident. It’s usually got something to do with murder, sex, or betrayal.”

  “Girl, I don’t think I killed anyone.” Rachel finished the last drop in her glass. Her head started to spin. “It sounds like a premise to a Stephen King book, or something. I hope I don’t find any buried bodies in my backyard this summer when I plant flowers.”

  ***

  Dane watched Rachel from across the room, stuck with Shawn. He was trying to sell him on the benefits of Dyactril, a new drug on the market for Alzheimer’s. He had taken him in the corner since the second they got into the party. Darren joined them, arguing shit like how the FDA was killing their business by not releasing medicines faster into the public.

  He watched as she finished her drink and seemed as if she needed saving from Penny Cabot. Penny was always trying to psychoanalyze everyone who would let her. He needed to go pull the cougar off the kitten.

  “Hey, guys. I’m going to go get another beer. I’ll catch up to you later.”

  He speed-walked to the sofa with intentions of taking Rachel away from Penny’s couch session. He waited until there was a break in the conversation.

  “All I’m saying is to come over to my house and I’ll put you under. We’ll see what it was that repressed your memory. I’d be happy to do it.”

  “What the hell are you saying to Rachel, Penny?” Dane stood behind the couch where they were sitting.

  Rachel turned and looked up at him.

  “Rachel’s not repressing anything.” He pulled back Rachel’s bangs. “You see this? This is a scar where the windshield broke off in her head. This is her memory loss.”

  “Dane! Penny’s only trying to help me. I thought it was very nice of her.” Rachel went to stand and held onto the sofa back. “I thought you said it was good for me to remember things.”

  “Fine, but I’ll help you.” Dane took her arm.

  “Penny, I’m going for another one of these. Don’t go anywhere. I’m coming back.” Rachel stood up.

  Dane walked her to
the kitchen, whispering in her ear. “Don’t listen to anything Penny says. She dressed dead people like celebrities, for God’s sake, Rachel.”

  Rachel shot him a look of disbelief. “Did she?”

  “Remember? Her uncle owns the funeral home out on Route 5? She does the makeup for the indigents, making them into superstars.”

  “Well, Dane, she works for the police department.” Rachel poured another tall glass of the happy juice.

  “I can’t help that. What are you drinking?”

  “Edie’s happy juice. This stuff is the bomb. You should try it.”

  “I’ll stick to my beer.” He threw his away and took another one out of the cooler on the floor. “What’s in it, anyway? It smells horrible.” He turned his nose up after taking a whiff of her cup.

  “Lots of happy.” She kissed the side of her wet glass.

  Dane wanted so bad to kiss her at that moment. The look of pure relaxation she had on her face. The vulnerability that came with alcohol. He bet if he asked her now whether she had a crush, she would have a different answer than she had before.

  “Hey guys, we’re playing spin the shot. Come see Travis and Tommy getting shitfaced.”

  Tommy Kesner was new to the crowd and the youngest. An up-and-rising new recruit of Travis Becker’s. Travis found Tommy in a bar, scoring women with his blue eyes and blond hair, and knew they’d be best friends until Tommy’s looks no longer worked as a lure to get him a date. Travis wasn’t as gifted in the looks department. Everyone who didn’t know Travis thought he was ten years old. He was actually thirty-two and still waiting for the hair to grow and connect with the other patches on his cheeks.

  “Let’s go.” Rachel pulled Dane’s arm.

  The people surrounding the table were yelling Travis’s name. He could barely keep his head up as he spun the dial on the shot glass. There must have been a weight pulling it toward his seat. On the ninth shot, his head hit the table and someone pulled him away to sleep it off.

  “I’ll try,” Rachel shouted from the back.

  “Rachel, are you crazy?” Dane held the glass she handed to him.

  She sat down in Travis’s seat and looked at her opponents with a little girl smile.

  She was so innocent and so tipsy. She didn’t know what she was doing. He knew she’d hate him in the morning on the way to the airport. He’d make sure to pack extra aspirin.

  On the fourth time, she struck out; her eyes went shut and the shot glass fell from her hands.

  “Okay, guys, someone else sit in for Rachel.”

  He set down both the beer and glass he was holding and helped her out of the seat she was sitting in. The other guys all booed him as he walked her to one of the back rooms in the house. Her smile didn’t leave her face, as she looked him in the eye and paid no attention to the walk back to the room.

  “Why did you take me away? I was beating those SOBs. They thought because I was a girl, I couldn’t hold my liquor.” She leaned toward the wall.

  “Rachel, you can’t hold your liquor. I’ll take you home after you get your sea legs back.”

  He found a nice room toward the back of the house. It had a couple of couches and low lighting. A television sat between two large bookcases, filled with vases and hard-backed books. It was quiet from all the other noise in the house. He shut the door and sat her down on one of the chairs.

  “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

  “I should’ve done this last year. Let me see.” She put her finger up to her lips. Her eyes seemed half closed. “What was I doing last year, this time? Oh, I know! I was counting sleeping pills. God, I don’t miss those days.”

  She stood up and walked to the iPod that was stationed on the Bose speaker. She squinted to see the playlist. Maroon 5 began to play “Just a Feeling.”

  “Come and dance with me.” She held out her arm.

  “Are you sure you can dance? You could barely walk back here.”

  “Shut up and get over here.” She took his hand and began to sway. “I’m not intoxicated, Dane.”

  He backed up to look her in the face. “Rachel, you’re the biggest lightweight I know. Do you remember the beach party when we all started that bonfire?”

  Her head fell back and she almost lost her footing. “Hell, yeah. That was a good time we had there. I think I recall you bringing that short girl with the pigtails.”

  “Those weren’t pigtails; they were…” He didn’t know what they were, but pigtails made her sound eight years old.

  “They were pigtails, Dane. She even asked if we had straws for her beer.”

  “Well, there’s nothing wrong with your memory there. Anyway, my point was you got shitfaced after three beers. I found you down the beach, lying on your stomach in the sand without a blanket or anything.”

  “That was you? I thought it was Scott.”

  It was a memory he revisited a lot in his mind. Dane broke away from the group when he hadn’t seen Rachel in a while. Scott was off smoking cigars with the other guys and hadn’t seemed to be concerned Rachel was missing. Dane left his date by the fire and walked down the beach.

  When he first saw her, he thought she was hurt. He rushed over to her and turned her over to her back. Her eyes were glazed over and she had that same smile she had tonight on her face. Pure relaxation. He brushed away the hair from her face and held her, looking at her lips. How he wanted to kiss them. How he knew he shouldn’t go to any more parties where she was at, because he always left pissed off for the next week, knowing he couldn’t have her.

  He carried her back to the place where everyone sat, circled around the heat. He put his jacket underneath her head and covered her legs with a blanket she left on her chair.

  “Maybe it was Scott.” He held her tight and fought his urge to come clean about how long he’d loved her.

  The song changed and Rachel backed away from him. “I think I’m ready to go. I’m beginning to feel my face again, and if I don’t get to bed, I won’t wake up tomorrow morning.”

  ***

  “Let me go to the bathroom first.” She ducked in the large room with the glass shower enclosure and twin vanities. She grabbed hold of the faucet and rinsed her face with cold water. She should have never played the game, or possibly never played the game and lost three times in a row. Her head was swirling bluebirds and skulls. She waited until they slowed down and she wasn’t seeing double in the mirror.

  When she opened the door, she found Dane waiting for her. She felt a little better. She was regaining brain cells as the clock ticked forward. Speaking of clocks, she heard someone shouting from the living room. Ten, nine, eight...

  Some lunatic ran down the hall, weaving left to right, pushing Dane against Rachel, knocking her to the wall. She wasn’t certain at first, but possibly the poor drunk guy was streaking past them. The entire party of people was doing a mock countdown from the living room and kitchen. They would probably do it again tomorrow night, at someone else’s house.

  Dane’s hand touched her cheek and pushed back her hair. His head slowly came toward her, tilting to the side before he made contact with her lips. Slowly, he teased her mouth with his, gently easing her lips apart. She accepted the invitation and began to crumble when he was deep inside. Without ceasing kissing her, he backed into the room they were standing in front of. It was dark inside. She didn’t know where they were. She could only feel Dane against her, his lips moving to her earlobes, and then to her neck. She was speechless as the hair began to stand on her arms. He felt so good against her.

  There was a moan. It was actually coming from her. She rubbed over his shoulders, bringing him closer to her. He moved lower to her chest, pulling at her V-neck sweater to taste areas he hadn’t before. Her senses were beginning to come to her. This was Dane Stone. She couldn’t.

  “Dane, stop.”

  His tongue licked her skin. He wasn’t listening.

  “Dane, we can’t.” She pushed him away.

  He stood, staring at
her—a sex-crazed look on his face. His coloring was flushed and there was sweat on his brow.

  “I have to go.”

  She rushed past him, out of the room. She looked at all the coats on the floor beside the door. There was no time to find hers. She needed to just get home. Under her blankets and wait until she could think of what to do. To resolve the fact that all she wanted to do was be with this man. The one she thought she could never be with.

  Dane rushed toward her. She pulled the door open and ran out into the night. She got halfway to her car and he came out of the house, yelling her name. She turned and her ankle twisted on a sidewalk crack, rendering her to the ground. Her knee instantly began to burn. He hurried to her, crouching down and holding both their coats.

  “You’re hurt. Let me help you.”

  “Don’t. Just give me my coat. I’m going home.” She felt as if her head was all right enough to get down the street, out of sight. She’d pull over and wait until she felt normal before driving the rest of the way. She just had to get out of there. Before she did something she couldn’t take back.

  “Rachel, you can’t drive anywhere like this. Let me help you to my house. I can take a look at your ankle.”

  She got to her feet and took a deep breath. She could do this. She had to. But her bag was still in his house. She left it there so she wouldn’t have to take it to Edie and Shawn’s. What a stupid idea.

  He opened the door for her, as she walked past him, trying to retrieve her bag from the sofa. “My ankle’s fine, Dane.”

  Her knee stung like a bee, but her ankle was fine. She tried not to wince when she walked.

  “Rachel, don’t be silly. Your jeans have blood on them. At least have a look before you go. You can use the bathroom. Glass might have cut you. You might need a stitch.”

  She looked down. Blood had pooled on the surface of her pants. And the way it felt, glass wouldn’t be hard to argue. It felt like a ten-inch shard was buried in the tissue of her ball and socket.

  “Okay, but don’t try to help. I’ll go and look for myself.”