Chapter 16

© Copyright 2004 by Elizabeth Delayne



Amy stood at the edge of the ocean, the waves sliding over her feet, her toes curling in the wet sand. Back slid the waves, then rushed forward. The water felt smooth, like silk, the sound calming.

The sky blazed with color as the sun dipped into the ocean.

And her heart quivered still.

How she missed her mom—who saw life and goodness in everyone, everything. The moment her dad had told her, the moment she'd learned of her mom's death, it was like life rushed out of her, left her empty and cold.

She wasn't empty, she'd learned, nor was she cold.

It was just that sometimes she felt as if everything she touched turned to coal, instead of the coal into gold as the fables told.

She watched the clouds simmer over the dying sun and thought back over the last few months. First her own life, then Chloe's. She'd watched her father shatter, or close himself off all over again, after Maureen's death. Lorraine ... people wanted to blame the poor woman for the darkness that surrounded Amy.

And Andrea—she'd cost Andrea her sister a lifetime ago, and she'd taken to her, from her, in need of friendship. In the beginning their relationship had strained Andrea's relationship with virtually everyone, had strained her health.

There was someone else to care for Andrea now. Someone who loved her, who would seek to be her friend, to know her, to know what she needed.

Chloe was stronger—stronger that Amy had ever known her to be. She would be moving soon. She would have the mountains and Mitch, and someone to help her deal with her past.

Amy wrapped her arms around herself as the warmth slid away with the sun. Her probation would be over after January. She could leave then—find another place to be, another life to choose. The world would be wide open to her.

Maybe one day she would get her degree-a degree, some degree. Maybe one day she would settle down on the coast of some desert island and she could surf by morning ... and do whatever by evening.

She could run away ... she could leave it all behind. Touch no one, hurt no one. Whoever was after her would have to find her, would have to leave Basin Springs ... the town she could remember her mother, her brother. The town she'd been part of a family. The town her friends had made her part of a family.

She shivered as sun completely slid behind the ocean.

Andrea and Chloe ... they would be safe to start their own lives.

Why should she wait to pack her bags and go? Forget the last month of her sentence. Forget saying goodbye. She could just leave, move on, make a fresh start. Uncle Pete would give her a job, and if not that, a recommendation.

Her friends would be safe.

She tried not to look at the rolling waves, or breath in the smell of the ocean she had loved all her life. Neither would she be able to drive through the streets of Basin Springs with her eyes open. Nearly every building, every curb, had a memory.

Why do you think you must give it all up?

"Because I bring darkness."

"I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."

Amy closed her eyes and focused on the verse. Why should she give up the life, the friends she had? It was true the life had gone out of her when her mom died, but she'd been given new life, new heart, a new purpose, when she'd found Jesus—or when He'd found her.

So why should she walk away from it?

Because everything she touched turned to coal. Wasn't that the point of this whole wearying argument?

But it wasn't true. Even she knew that. Her life had once been, had once felt, as dark ask coal, her veins as cold as ice.

But not anymore. She knew there was gold inside of her now. She knew she wasn't empty. Not anymore.

Why should she deny herself the life before her because of the darkness that waited behind her?

She opened her eyes and turned her back on the ocean, on the pitch black of the world, and looked up at the station house. The light in Derek's office was on. He wasn't on duty. She knew because she knew his schedule so well by now. He was there—no doubt staying to watch over her.

And knowing so only made her feel ... more for the first time in a long time. It was as if the light had burst inside her heart.

Smiling, her heart pumping with life, she rushed for the wooden stairs.



Derek glanced up from the papers on his desk when her heard the feet running up to the deck leading to the deck. He was at the door when the glass doors opened, and Amy rushed in.

"Amy—"

"Every thing's fine," she told him, her eyes bright with intensity. "Just fine."

She reached him then, took his hands and twined her fingers between them, holding them up as if he was giving in. She looked up at him, her eyes dancing. His heart tripped over itself as he fought to catch up. Not minutes ago he'd been heading out the door to go home when he'd spotted her down at the beach, staring into the ocean, watching the sunset.

He'd given her time—this time—to assimilate whatever was going through her head. He'd hoped she'd come to him on her own for once.

But even in hoping, he hadn't expected this ... excitement, this glow.

"Tell me what you see when you look at me."

He cleared his throat for it was suddenly dry. How could he when what he was looking at, the woman he was looking at, was so bright, so vivid ... so out of character—at least around him. This was the woman who competed, who hung out with her friends. Her hands were trembling with his.

"Now? What I think of you at this moment?"

"No—no, not now. I know what you see now. A woman on the brink of lunacy. A woman who finally wants to go after what she wants. A woman who was about to throw it all into the ocean and run away—but she couldn't because it finally, finally occurred to her that there was something she really wanted."

"And you want to go after me?" he asked, and stepped back. Her fingers stayed twined within his, though, palm to palm. He held out his arms to hold her back.

He'd seen this side of Amy around others, when she was busy breathing, living, going, but not around him. He'd never seen, so fully, her in full swing. For him.

Suddenly.

His knees were suddenly weak. He wondered if he was going to have to sit down.

She laughed then, but it was a little giddy. Full of power, delight. "You're afraid of me."

"No—" he murmured, and tried to mentally catch up with her, "not afraid. Just ... behind. Terribly behind."

"Then catch up. I stood out there on the sand and realized I was holding back from you. I didn't think I was ready, but I am. I really am. Why should I hold that back? I'm in love with you, Derek. I think we should get married. You can protect me full time then. It's that simple."

"Simple," he muttered, and stared at her. She loved him. And she wanted to marry him. Marriage. Even he hadn't gotten that far. "And you want me to catch up?"

When she stepped forward, he stepped back. And he watched the first shutter fall. He hated that he had to put it back into place.

She tugged her hands from his and took a step back. He let her, for he needed the space.

"I'm sorry." She walked toward the windows and looked out on the dark ocean and then down at the sand. The place where she had been standing was already washed away by the waves. She seemed to shiver. He grabbed his jacket off a hook on the other side of his office and brought it to her, draping it over her shoulders. "I should go."

"Why don't you stay, so we can talk this out?"

"Run or stay. Funny—I just thought I made this choice." She ran her finger over the glass in front of her. "I just thought ... that you were waiting, for me ... to ..."

"Maybe I thought I was. I just wasn't prepared for it to be this sudden."

She glanced back at him. "Then you ..."

He held up a hand. "Let's not say the words again ... yet. Why don't we start with why this comes up now?"

"We've been spending a lot of time together recently. I thought that you—" she started, knowing it wasn't completely the truth. So she told him about running from Anna's, about Lorraine and what she knew her mom would have wanted.

And that she'd blindly come looking for Ham, only to remember he wasn't there.

"I'm not Ham—I can't be Ham for you."

"I'm not asking you to be. I didn't come to you when I realized Ham wasn't here. I went out to the beach, to see the ocean, the waves. Considered just diving in, going for ... nothing. Or packing it all up, running away. A little like Ham, but more like myself. My friends would be safe then. They could move on with their lives."

"Then I realized that I didn't want that—I need them. The darkness that's around me, that tries to press into me, it's not what's intended for me. I've got a light inside me that needs to shine." She held her hand to her heart. "If I run from here, from the problems, I also run from that. Not completely, but from part of it. From the person I am now. You told me I wasn't that person anymore."

"Yes I did."

"Can I ask you now what you see in me? Really see? As a man waiting for me?"

Derek moved to lean against the window and reached up to cup her face between both of his hands. For a moment he just looked at her, took the time to look at her. Her hair fell around her face, framing the uncertainty in her brown eyes. The florescent lights subdued the natural blond highlights. Her skin was a little peachy from the excitement, paling under the uncertainty.

"I see a woman that her mother would be proud of, a beautiful, loving woman." He let the words linger, let them sink in. "I see the bravest person I know. And I've known cops in the tough beats, known mother's who've gone to the line for their children."

"Derek..." she searched his eyes and he wondered what secrets she'd found, for now she was the one stepping back, slightly shaken.

He dropped his hands and slid them into his pockets. So she loved him, or said she did—knowing that the thought had crossed her mind was just enough, for now, to hold back.

"Second thoughts?" Derek asked.

"Maybe a little sanity." She closed her eyes and lifted her own hands to cover her face. "I feel like such a fool. I can't believe I just rushed up here and thought ... I didn't think. I wasn't thinking."

"You don't have to take the words back," he murmured and watched her peek through her fingers to look at him. He mentally slid them into a compartment and shut the door. One day, he would pull them out, guide her to say them again.

But for now ...

He reached out, took her hands from her face, and looked at her. "How about we take a few steps back from where we tried to go when you came through the door?"

"To where?"

"To a place we've never gone before." When she frowned, he squeezed her hands. "A date."

"A date?" she seemed to consider the possibilities. "Haven't we been out before?"

"On a boat, out with friends ... but if you tell me now that you considered those dates then, we'll, we both know you didn't think of them as dates."

She chucked. "All right ... date. Where do you think we should go?"

"I've found a little crab shack down past the pier. Bob's Hut On the Pier."

She smiled and linked her fingers with his. They were steadier now, he thought. Maybe because his own hand was steady now.

"I've been there, but I know a better one." For a moment, her eyes found his—thanking him. "It was a favorite of my mom's."



"You'll send me pictures as soon as possible, right?" Andrea asked her mother over the phone as she set her suitcase down by the door before flipping the lock to open it. She'd seen Eric's convertible pull up from her bedroom window, so she knew who it was.

Her brother was a father now—of a bouncing baby boy, eight pounds, 3 and a half ounces.

And he didn't know how to send a photo over the Internet if people's lives counted on it. Well, he did, but he hadn't. Crazy, crazy boy—didn't he know people were waiting? Her mom and dad were on their way to join her brother for Christmas, but she was heading off with Amy, and eventually, Eric would join them.

"Come in—grab something," she said to Eric, motioning toward a stack of luggage and boxes.

"Has Eric gotten there already?" Her mother asked.

"Sorry. He just got here. It's past seven. We're leaving at seven thirty."

"You girls must be growing up. I remember when I couldn't get you out of the door before noon."

Andrea rolled her eyes. "Chloe wants to have lunch with Mitch. I want to have lunch with the mountain view instead of that old diner that sits in between."

Her mother chuckled and Andrea headed back into her room to grab her laptop. Her mother would e-mail her the photos, but she wouldn't be there.

"I wish I could come with you guys."

"And you wish you could stay. Is it Amy you're staying for or Eric, I wonder?"

Andrea rolled her eyes again and sat down on her bed with a plop. "Mom—does it matter?"

"I don't know. Does it?"

Andrea groaned. "I don't need this right now. I like how things are."

"You liked how things were six months ago and look where you are today."

"On my way with my friends to spend Christmas in the mountains."

Quite possibly for the last time.

"I got to go mom."

"Be safe."

"You, too."

She hung up the phone and sighed, looking around the room that was her own. She had her canopy bed she'd picked out herself when she'd moved in. It made her feel like a princess. It was decorated in cool blues and soft fabrics. The walls were decorated with photos of her friends on several French Memo boards. It was how she wanted it.

And on her night stand was a photo of Eric with her that Amy had taken out at the beach three weeks ago. How many nights had she lay entranced by the photo, thinking that she could see them there, together, on the beach, for the rest of their lives? Just the two of them.

And maybe more.

The idea of making a family with him made her feel both warm and cold. A family ... was she strong enough? Healthy enough?

What if she wasn't? Could he handle that?

She opened the drawer to her night stand and pulled out a frame that held another photo, taken years ago. In the silence, she studied the two. In both photos she was happy—or looked happy. The looked impeccable together, suave, even. The first had been taken in formal clothes befitting an event, the second, the causal clothes of an evening out on the beach.

But in the new photo, one might think she was more relaxed, that Eric was more relaxed ... maybe even, that they were relaxed with each other. Not because of their clothes ... but because there was something different, something more, between them.

Shaking herself, set the framed photo on her night stand and shut the drawer. Maybe it was time to stop hiding from herself. She opened the side pocket of her laptop case and slid the newer photo inside. If she would miss him now, then it would be her little secret. She wasn't sure she was ready for him to know.

The apartment was empty, so she shut off the lights and locked the door behind her. Her suitcase, her bags of wrapped gifts, and the boxes of Christmas decorations had already been taken.

She was outside before she caught up with Chloe and Eric.

Eric leaned against the side of Amy's truck, watching Amy and Chloe. She'd barely looked at him moments ago. He was dressed in a suit, ready for a day in court. He looked, she thought with a twinge of longing, so ... perfect. How could one man, especially with his long red hair and a hint of a goatee, look so perfect? If she hadn't met him at Harvard, if they hadn't been in that atmosphere, would she have fallen for him?

"Why can't we take Andrea's car?"

"Uncle Pete's resort isn't located on the main roads. It's been snowing up there."

Chloe sighed as she handed Amy her small suitcase. "Yeah, but it's at least a four hour drive."

"Now that you and Andrea have been living together, you would think you wouldn't worry."

"It's not Andrea I'm worried about. It's my legs. I always have to sit in the middle all scrunched up."

Amy chuckled. "Mitch will appreciate them just as much. Besides, if you have any trouble walking, you can just hold tighter to him."

"What about me?"

Amy looked over her shoulder at Andrea and took the bag Eric handed her. "There will be plenty of men for you to hold on to."

"Maybe you should take my car." Eric offered.

"I second that," Andrea and Chloe said together.

Amy rolled her eyes as she went around to the other side to tuck the tarp in over their belongings. "We'll call you then when your pretty little convertible ends up at the bottom of the mountain."

Eric couldn't contain the grimace.

"Besides, it's all in the aesthetics. You can't go driving up to Uncle Pete's place in a Mercedes."

"Says you."

"Of course. He's my uncle. Ready?"

"If we have to," Chloe muttered without heat and slid her legs around and to the middle where she always sat.

"In a minute," Eric said and drew Andrea away. For a moment he just held onto both of her hands and studied her face.

"What?"

"Miss me a little."

Andrea struggled to hold back her smile. She liked having him look at her. She liked the way he looked at her. And it no longer upset her that she was becoming used to it.

"Why?"

"I'm going to miss you. More than a little. I've gotten used to you being around. Admit it. You're starting to want me to stay around."

"You'll see me in a week. Less than a week." She said, avoiding his point. They had spent nearly every evening together, cooking dinner for themselves and Chloe, walking the beach, eating out ... They talked over books, sermons, music, went to concerts, the theater ... dealing with each other, discovering each other.

She swallowed, wondering how long she would last before she picked up her cell phone and called him. "I'll be busy, you know. I've got to play chaperone to the two misfits."

They both looked over at the truck and laughed as Amy pushed at Chloe's hand as it went back to the radio.

"You just want to make it hard on me."

"We'll see," Andrea muttered, and stood on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

She settled back on her heals with a plop and sighed. "I guess you won. I've already started to miss you a little."

He grinned. "You don't sound as sad about it as you used to. You just might be getting a little resigned to it."

"You're imaging things. Don't forget to come on up. I know how your lawyer types are. I've had a lifetime dealing with them."

"Eric," Amy called out, "we've got to get on the road, please."

He chuckled and drew Andrea close. "Put some effort into it this time."



Unable to concentrate on the paperwork in front of him, Derek leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. The night before they'd walked down the pier and watched the sunset over the ocean. She'd rested her head on his shoulder. They hadn't talked, but enjoyed the silence.

Then she'd walked him down to an ocean side ice cream parlor and laughed and joked around.

It was a side of her he wanted to see again.

Kids were out for vacation, trying out the waves in the early mornings. For the first time in ages, he could have used Amy's expertise in the proverbial trenches.

And he would have had to keep her inside, safe.

He could only pray that she was safe now.

He stood, suddenly antsy. He was used to Amy being around. He was used to looking after her, looking at her. It wasn't just her safety he desired, but more. Something more. Something they were on the edge of discovering.

He reached for the phone. Mitch was aware of things. He just needed to call, make sure, one more time.

"I've got some news."

Anna stood in the doorway, tapping a manila folder against her leg.

"Lorraine Thompson handed over her medication without question. Her husband has already taken her to the doctor because of erratic behavior."

Derek nodded, absorbing the information even as he reprimanded himself for overreacting. Amy wasn't his responsibility, not alone.

He couldn't loose focus on what was his charge. "How long?"

"He says it has only started in the last month, since her doctor prescribed a change in her medication."

She tossed the manila file folder she held on the desk. "You know I'm not officially working this case. I'm just keeping up with the work Loraine's court appointed officers are doing. There is still a weak link between Loraine's last medication malfunction and Maureen Child's murder—"

"But you think it's a weak link."

"If I thought I had a strong link, she would be behind bars," Anna said. "We ran it as a standard check to talk with her husband. Amy was right--there's no reason to jump to conclusions on a woman that has followed the rules until now. Still, I made a few phone calls and rushed Loraine's medication through the lab. The pills aren't what was prescribed--aren't what the bottle proclaimed them to be. Blood pressure pills."

"That explains Loraine's behavior in the last month."

"And gives her a strong ally for the past."

"But she was told to change her medication."

"Not because she was having mental problems, according to her husband. The doctor felt that because of her age the new medication would fit her better—as she has been a little sporadic in the last year. Laurie Corrilla, the officer that did the standard check, left me a message this afternoon. According to her, that advice was questioned by the tech at the lab."

"So what did the doctor say?"

"I haven't had a chance to talk with Laurie yet, but according to her message, the doctor is on vacation for the next week. I could call in a favor, get the name, talk to the doctor myself, but as Amy's gone for the next week, and it is Christmas.... In cases like Loraine's the doctors pretty much volunteer their time anyway."

"Amy's out of town for a few days. We've got some time to deal with these questions."



Sporadically singing along with the songs on the radio, Amy watched the narrow road ahead and smiled at the piles of snow that had been pushed to the side with a snow plow. She could already feel the change in the feel of the air. Only a few more miles.

Beside her Chloe slept, leaning on Andrea's shoulder. Andrea looked out the window, her thoughts far away.

With Eric, Amy mused, and thought of Derek. She understood now that she had been trying to control the situation, to control him, but it had taken a long sleepless night to admit to the need. She'd wanted to make the first move and grasp onto something that would hold onto her. She'd wanted control of something—desperate for something steady.

When she'd admitted as much to Derek—apologized for it—he'd drawn her close and promised her that he was holding onto her anyway.

He hadn't questioned her words, nor had he given her his own.

And for now, that felt just right.

No more trying to run to or from. She could just be still and enjoy the warmth that she felt—warmth, that in a way, had been missing for ten long years.

He wasn't her mother ... but he appreciated her mother, and that said a great deal to her.

As she pulled into town, slowed down to the creeping speed, she smiled. It felt familiar, right, as well. Cars lined the parking spaces in front of the local shops. She lifted a hand and waved to a group of local women that would recognize both her and her truck.

She turned off just outside of town, heading down the mountain slightly from the resort. The family cabin was on the other side of a grouping of trees from the resort, it's entrance private.

Mitch's jeep, accessorized with police lights, was parked in front of the cabin. Christmas lights twinkled from the cabin's outline, a gift from her uncle. Smoke lifted from the chimney, a tell-tell sign that Mitch was getting the place ready for them.

Chloe awoke quickly when Amy nudged her. By the time Amy had stepped from the cab to allow Chloe to get out, Mitch had slipped from the cabin. Chloe ran to him, his arms enfolded her, lifted her off her feet as he spun her around. Chloe laughed.

"I suppose your practical side says we have to unpack before we go to lunch?"

Amy looked over her shoulder as Andrea came around the hood of the truck. "If we do, then we get help," she said and nodded toward Mitch.

"Then let's get started. I can just taste you're Uncle's potato soup."

Amy rolled her eyes and turned to loosen the tarp.

She felt the hair on her neck prickle and reached back automatically. It was as if someone spoke her name. She turned around slowly and looked around.

And saw nothing but the picture of a forest in winter; bushes, and limbs iced with snow. The sky was turning grey above them. More snow was on the way. It was quiet. She wasn't used to the quiet, was all she could think. The relaxing roll of the ocean, the calming cry of seagulls, both were different from this ... stillness.

"Amy? You okay?"

She blinked, looked back at Andrea. "Yeah—just hungry, I think."

Andrea rolled her eyes and pulled the first bag from under the tarp. "Then lets move a little faster, please."

"Chop-chop."

HEY! and don't forget to e-mail me if you have a comment!







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