When Darkness Falls(10)

Haley followed and sat on the overstuffed arm of her favorite chair. “You’d still come, wouldn’t you?” she said, as the jingle for Wheel of Fortune played.

Doris shrugged again. “Of course. He’s nothing to me.”

? ? ?

“Devon, darling, are you there? I haven’t heard from you since you got on the plane, and we had such a good time. What would you think about Christmas under palm trees? Call me. Bye.”

Lydia drummed her fingers on her kitchen counter. The faint light from the over-the-sink fluorescent glinted off her fingernails. The nails matched her lips, which she’d deepened with ruby lipstick and brown sugar gloss.

A few minutes later, she tried Devon’s phone again. Still nothing, so she called the voicemail number. They had the same carrier, and she’d gotten the same plan as his. She punched in his cell number and password. She’d guessed that easily enough long ago—his brother’s birthday—and once a month or so she called to hear his messages. It helped her feel she and Devon hadn’t drifted too far apart.

One message was from Al, Devon’s partner at The Underground. Something about bookings for February. The second was a woman’s voice, a stranger’s, sweet and light.

“Hi, it’s me. Hope your show went well. We’re set for tomorrow night. I told my mom you had a job, so we couldn’t stay long, but she wants us to at least stay for dinner.” Digital silence for an instant, then the voice went on. “I love you.”

Lydia disconnected and threw her phone into the living room. It landed with a thunk on the carpet. Devon scoffed at things like dinner with the family and houses in Prison Suburbia. Next he’d have one surrounded by the proverbial picket fence to keep Miss Cotton Candy in.

The phone lay on its back. Lydia retrieved it. No sense leaving it where she might step on it later. This couldn’t be. Must not be. Especially after Devon’s visit. She paced from her refrigerator to the back door, to the table, to the refrigerator again. It should be hitting him how much he needed her. Wanted her. At best, this girl was a distraction. At worst….

Lydia stopped at the door and rested her hand against the screen. The night air cooled her face. The girl might love Devon, but Devon did not love the girl. Still, it was time to move. Cautiously, so as not to scare him. Quickly, to keep things simple. Not doing anything Devon might hold against her later.

Unless it became necessary.

? ? ?

Devon leapt out of bed, his latest nightmare forgotten. Haley was answering him today. It had to be yes. If it were no, if she were leaning that way, sometime over the last month she would have prepared him, hinted, something. And she wouldn’t have agreed to tell him now, two days before New Year’s Eve, and ruin the holiday. So he let himself imagine, something he’d learned never to do for fear of disappointment. He pictured Haley’s cosmetics in his bathroom, her dresses hanging in the closet, her guitar against the wall next to his. Eating dinner together in the tiny dining area he used now as extra workspace. He would have a home, a family, for the first time since his brother had died. Would have the kind of life he’d wished for when he was a kid, when there was nothing he could do about it.

On the way to the bathroom, he nearly tripped when his feet got tangled in his blue jeans. They lay on the floor at the foot of the bed. He tossed them onto the chair by his chest of drawers, where he usually left them after getting undressed, without swearing. In the shower, he saw his shampoo had fallen over during the night. Half a bottle of Nexus had literally gone down the drain. This time he did swear, but after a second he forgot. He was taking Haley out to dinner tonight, as soon as he got through recording the last vocal track on his new video.

That effort took longer than he’d thought it would, but he still managed to be at Haley’s by six-thirty. She looked stunning in a dark green velvet dress that stopped mid-thigh, showing off her legs. He especially liked the curve of her calf muscles. She wouldn’t dress like that if she were planning to turn him down.

They drove back into the city to a French restaurant on Clark Street that served dinner and dessert crepes and wrote the menu on a chalkboard. Al had recommended it. Some nights, a violinist wandered from table to table, and Devon had called ahead to make sure this was one of them. They got a table at the window. Giant snowflakes fell outside as Vivaldi played in the background. Devon took the waiter aside when Haley was in the restroom and told him he’d be proposing. For dessert, the waiter brought a dark chocolate crepe with a candle on it and a bottle of red wine. Hands shaking, Devon knelt on one knee and presented the ring.

“It’s beautiful,” Haley said.

“Nowhere near as beautiful as you.” It was the kind of thing Devon never would have said in the past and certainly wouldn’t have meant. Had he heard anyone else say it, he would have gagged. But he didn’t care what the other diners thought. His heart raced. “Will you marry me?”

“Of course. Of course I will.”

Closing his eyes, Devon savored his luck for a moment, then slid the ring, white gold with a quarter carat diamond, onto her finger. He felt sorry he couldn’t afford something more, though Haley claimed she preferred simple jewelry. Her fingers were slim, her hands and arms slender. The small jewel glowed in the candlelight.

Haley smiled. “I think you can get up now. Your knees must be killing you.”

“I have great knees,” he said. “It’s one of the many good traits I can offer as a husband.” He shifted back into his chair, losing himself in her eyes as she laughed. “When you didn’t answer for so long, I thought you might say no.”