Crystal Rose Read online

  I’d had everything painted before renting the place. Who else would have liked an orange and purple room? I couldn’t see Luke sleeping in there. In fact, I couldn’t imagine much of anyone getting rest in a room with such gaudy, clashing colors.

  Nothing seemed to have changed other than fresh coats of paint here and there and new kitchen appliances to replace the ones Grandma Charlotte had kept from the fifties. The furniture had been cleaned, the landscapes on the walls dusted. The stainless steel in the kitchen was anachronous to the rest of the décor, but it livened up the dark interior a bit. New, lighter tapestries were tied back around the windows to let in more natural light than Grandma Charlotte had liked.

  I stood just inside the front door as the two men explored the cabin, going from one room to the next. Everett seemed disinterested, but Luke was obviously the curious sort, and his expression was appreciative, growing brighter with each space he admired. “I love it here,” he said in a reverent tone.

  So did I. “That’s great.” I smiled at him and got down to business, ignoring the voice of the little girl in my head. “The address to mail the rent to is in the contract, and it’s written down on the notepad on the desk in the study. You can also find my number in both places, in case there are any problems. I have a maintenance company on call to come out and deal with any repairs or replacements, though I think the whole place has been inspected and updated.”

  “Thank you,” Everett said, the first time he’d addressed me at all, and it was a coarse dismissal.

  But as I turned to leave, I sensed someone close behind me, and a moment later, a hand fell on my arm. I looked over my shoulder at Luke, whose fingers singed my skin, and he ducked his head shyly. “We really do appreciate this, Crystal. I grew up in upstate New York, but we’ve been away for a long time. You’ve given me a chance to come back to my roots, and I can’t thank you enough.”

  I understood. A part of me wished I could come back here, but I’d been ripped out of the country and plunked into the orphanage downtown so violently that I couldn’t even consider the possibility of living anywhere like this again. I’d grown too accustomed to the grit and overpopulation of the inner city and all its glory. Sadly, I felt more secure there.

  “You’re welcome,” I told him sincerely. “I hope you enjoy it.” Maybe, someday, if they really loved it the way Grandma Charlotte and I had, I could consider selling them the place without being guilt ridden.

  “Hey, let me show a little gratitude,” he said, as if on a whim. I narrowed my eyes at him, not quite sure what he was getting at. “I’m a pretty good cook, and it can get lonely with just me and my dad. I’d really like it if you joined us for dinner Friday night.”

  No, definitely not! My instincts screamed that I shouldn’t come out here alone, with two men I didn’t know. Even if I didn’t get any creepy vibes from them, I didn’t know them at all, and there certainly wasn’t any love lost between Everett and me. At the same time, I had a feeling I’d really enjoy Luke’s company. And if I knew anything about people, this seemed to be his version of asking me out, gently.

  There was such a plea in those startling, intoxicating blue eyes that I had to smile, despite my misgivings. Relenting, I shrugged. “I suppose I could come out. I haven’t been out here in a long time, and I sort of miss the country.”

  “Great! I promise, you’ll have a good time, and even if you don’t, you’ll leave with a full stomach.” He held out his hand. I took it for a handshake, but he brought it to his lips and kissed the back of my knuckles. It sealed the deal for me. Whatever else was true of Luke Wesley and his father, I was a bit infatuated with this man, who had some very old school charm about him. “Dinner will be served at seven, but you’re welcome to come over as early as you like.”

  I considered that, wondering if it would be awkward. Finally, I settled on a compromise. “I have class till three, and I have to go home first to get the car. NYU doesn’t offer any good parking. But I’ll be here around six,” I told him. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  He winked, and I realized he was still holding my hand. “The pleasure is all mine.” I blushed as he finally released me, and I practically skipped back to my car. I was suddenly ecstatic, and I couldn’t wait to get back to civilization so I could text my friend, Cricket, and tell her about the hunk of man who was renting my grandmother’s cabin and had expressed interest in me. I almost giggled, knowing that was exactly how I would present the situation to her.

  But then, I heard a strange whisper, with words I couldn’t quite understand. I looked around as I closed the car door, but there was nothing, no one. I shuddered as the woods came into view, and the whisper seemed to crawl through my brain again, this time sounding like someone called to me. Crystal. I remembered the sound, and I recognized the thrill that settled into my gut in response.

  I didn’t waste any time turning over the engine and pulling away, needing to put space between me and the crazed belief that the woods could come alive, snatch me out of this world and into another. I almost regretted now agreeing to return on Friday, but as I looked out the rearview mirror one last time, I caught sight of Luke, still standing in the doorway and watching me go. God, he looked good. It gave me the determination I needed, and I was not going to let an opportunity like this go just because of a little trauma from my childhood.

  Chapter 3

  “Think with the head on your shoulders.” The gruff chastising tone in his father’s voice broke the spell Luke had fallen into, and he swiveled in the doorway to face the older man. Everett Wesley’s sickly white pallor still disturbed Luke, but at the moment, he wanted to strangle the old man.

  He looked back out the door, but Crystal had already disappeared around the corner in her Passat. With a sigh, he shut the door and scowled at his father. “Am I ever going to get a seal of approval from you to live life like a normal guy?”

  Luke’s father scoffed and waved him off, coughing and plunking down on the couch that looked more comfortable than the bed Luke had slept on for the past two years. “Go ahead. Let your libido call the shots. It’s a great way to live, if you don’t mind losing sight of your goals. But I’ll tell you, women give you tunnel vision, and you can’t see shit but tits and ass when you get all riled up by one of them.”

  Rolling his eyes, Luke bit his tongue. I’m not you! he wanted to scream. But he hadn’t disrespected his father since his health had started to fail, and he wasn’t going to waste years of self control to yell at his old man now. Especially when his father had just received a second chance at life, a possible cure. Maybe Everett wouldn’t mope and groan so much if he recovered.

  For Luke, he wondered if he’d benefit the way he’d hoped by this move.

  It was her, though. The girl. He hadn’t recognized Crystal at first, not with the perfect curves in all the right places and the black hair. It wasn’t naturally that color, he knew. He still had the photo from the paper, and she had beautiful red hair naturally. Everything else, though…that was all natural. And he wanted her now more than ever before.

  “Obsession is dangerous,” his father said under his breath, though Luke knew his father meant for him to hear it. There was literally no other reason to say it out loud.

  Something had come over Luke, though, and he decided to play devil’s advocate. “That’s funny coming from you, Dad. I mean, you’ve been obsessed over coming back to New York for, what, five years now?” He shook his head. “Besides, I’m not obsessed with anything.”

  Everett scrunched up his face in defiance. “You’ve been obsessed since you picked up that newspaper. It’s in your nature, boy. You take after your mother that way. And coming back here was a necessity, not an obsession. Now, hand me the TV remote and leave me alone.”

  The abrupt dismissal no longer bothered Luke. He’d grown used to it by now. Since his father had fallen ill, he’d hardened and stopped caring about closeness and nurture. Instead, he pulled away from any conversation that didn’t
involve admonishing Luke or making demands on his son.

  That was fine. Luke missed how close they’d once been, before they’d lost his mother, before Everett had taken a turn for the worse, but he didn’t press his luck. He just kept hoping that a cure of some kind would appear, and when it did, the new lease on life would make his father remember how beautiful life was. And how much he and Luke loved each other.

  In the meantime, Luke craved the company of someone who could hold a real conversation without grumbling about something irrelevant. Normal people talked about the weather, told pleasant stories about childhood, agreed and disagreed about movies and television shows they liked, and found joy in being together. Everett had lost all of that somewhere along the line, and Luke feared he had given up the fight for life. His physical appearance certainly manifested that lack of persistence.

  But coming here, to this cabin, could be his salvation, and Luke’s, too. For fourteen years, he’d hoped to somehow run into Crystal Rose, and he’d almost been disappointed at the appearance of a woman he didn’t know as their landlord, even if she was drop-dead gorgeous and had a familiarity about her he couldn’t explain. Then, she’d spoken her name, and a thrill went through Luke’s body. It all made sense. She was here, in the flesh, and she’d agreed to come over for dinner.

  He handed the remote to his father and told him, “You can grouch and complain all you want, but Crystal is coming for dinner Friday, and you’re not going to make her feel unwelcome or embarrass either of us. Do you understand?”

  His father laughed derisively. “And how are you going to stop me?”

  Luke crossed his arms over his chest, a heated look of warning on his face. His father glared at him, but he stood his ground. “I’ll just take away the remote and hide it somewhere you’ll never find it. And then I’ll pretend you don’t care for coffee in the morning, so if you want any, you’ll have to make it yourself.” It was a weak threat, but those two pleasures were what Everett’s life revolved around, and Luke couldn’t think of anything else to keep his father in line.

  Everett made an angry noise and turned away, his eyes fixed on the television. Luke had won the argument, but he’d pay for it later. Now, though, he realized he’d forgotten one thing when he’d invited Crystal to dinner. He didn’t know if she preferred a certain diet. He’d run into issues with vegans and vegetarians in the past and didn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot.

  He hurried to the desk she’d indicated and instantly memorized her number. Then, he sent her a text, asking if she had any food allergies or any preferences.

  He waited anxiously for her reply and finally got it over an hour later. She apparently drove safely and didn’t mess with her phone while she sat behind the wheel. He sighed and smiled at her response. I’m not picky, but please, no steak. She obviously didn’t care for red meat. That was a shame, but he could deal with that. He took note and decided that maybe fish was the best choice. Seafood never seemed to get old, and he had a feeling Crystal would appreciate his efforts to please.

  He checked on his father with a final glance, finding the old man enthralled in some news program, and he stepped outside. He wanted to explore the property, breathe the fresh air out here. And he wanted to check out the woods. Most of all, he wanted to think about Crystal without his father’s constant reminder of disapproval.

  Stepping off the porch, he started walking aimlessly, knowing he could find his way back in time to heat up some of the food they’d brought with them for dinner. Maybe his pops would appreciate that effort, at least.

  Chapter 4

  “You should have taken a picture,” Cricket told me, pouting slightly as we sat at Wendy’s and I picked at my chicken sandwich. “You know I’m all about the approval process.”

  I rolled my eyes and popped a fry in my mouth, chasing it down my dry throat with a sip of Sprite. “It wasn’t like I could have just taken out my camera and been like, do you mind if I take a snapshot. He would have gotten all cocky, thinking he was going in my spank bank. Or gotten weird, assuming I was some sort of stalker chick.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Cricket agreed reluctantly, the wind going out of her. Grumbling, she added, “You could have taken a sneaky shot with your phone, at least. Shared the wealth.” She slumped in her chair, looking forlorn, and I had to laugh at her melodramatic reaction.

  We’d sat next to each other in my first 100-level class when I’d gotten to NYU, and we’d clicked instantly, best friends ever since. She knew where I came from, and she didn’t refer to it unless she joked with me in private. I wasn’t a pity case to her, and that was enough to sell me on her sincerity and realism. But she also didn’t criticize my choice of studies, as most people did.

  I packed up my food in the paper bag, unable to eat anything more at the moment. Nerves had taken over, especially when I’d gotten the text from Luke about what he should or shouldn’t make for dinner. I hated referencing steak as something abhorrent to me because anyone who had seen the newspapers thought of all sorts of nasty jokes. But I figured I should handle it now rather than sitting down at the dinner table and losing my stomach on a carefully prepared meal.

  His reply had been No problem, so I hoped there wouldn’t be any awkward conversation or references to my past. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say for certain, considering Mr. Wesley’s attitude toward me. He’d glared at me as if he’d licked me, and my skin left a bad taste in his mouth. It was creepy and unwelcoming, and I could just imagine his attempts to drive me away from his son.

  “My only concern is his father,” I told Cricket as we stood to leave. “I get the impression his dad is overprotective and tries to keep him sheltered.”

  “You’re right. He could be a total weirdo, and you should take a weapon out there with you,” Cricket replied, looking a bit nervous now.

  “I would never go to the cabin without one,” I said quietly. Bang! The sound of Grandma Charlotte’s shotgun rang through my head, and I forced the images that usually followed to remain at bay. “Look, he seems a little sick or something, so I don’t think he could hurt me. I know enough self defense to not be too worried.”

  “What if him and the hot guy are working together?” Cricket proposed. “That’s a possibility. Good cop, bad cop, that sort of thing. I don’t want to see you tied up and flayed on some Dateline special in a couple of months.”

  I laughed. We were going down a path we needed to avoid, the path that led to paranoid delusions. “I’m going to go, okay? But I’ll be safe, and the minute anything gets weird or unsafe, I’ll haul ass back to the city. I promise.”

  “Do you want a bail out call?” Cricket knew me well. I’d gone on several dates that ended up poor choices for company, and we’d started arranging for her to call or text and feign an emergency if I used a code word. Otherwise, I just told her I was busy and would call her back when I was free. It had worked well for both of us.

  I nodded. “Schedule it for seven on the dot. I can bail on dinner if I need to.” Shaking my head, I mused, “What an example of feminism we turned out to be. We’ll face possible predators with weapons and a bail out call instead of turning tail and running.”

  “We live in New York,” she pointed out. “It’s the only way to survive here.”

  I hugged her goodbye, and she headed to the dorm while I went to my apartment on the third floor of the brownstone I’d scored only nine blocks from the university.

  Inside, I leaned back against the door and looked around the small but cozy space that was all mine. I’d decorated more than once already, never quite finding a style that spoke to me long term. But something that never changed was the Wall.

  I called it the Wall with a capital w because it held the only pictures I had of my family that I cared to look at. My mother and father with me as a baby, fresh out of the hospital. My mother in a candid shot by the beach, laughing. That had been our summer vacation just before I lost them.

  My father had run a m
arathon once, when I was still small, three or four, and the picture of him showed his celebration as he crossed the finish line. It was something like 25 miles, quite an accomplishment.

  And then there was Grandma Charlotte. I had three pictures of her. The first was from the early sixties, when she was very young, barely eighteen, and she wore a white cotton dress that was fluttering in the wind around a thin, curvy body. Her smile radiated out of the picture and across time, infectious even now. The second was of her with her sister, Trinity, just before my great-aunt had died from cancer. You could see the love between them, and the hope they both held for the future. Trinity had died five months later, just before I was born.

  The last portrait of Grandma Charlotte was much later, and I’d taken it myself with her old Polaroid camera. It had turned out so well we’d blown it up and matted it in the frame. It showed her on the shooting range, a rifle resting back on her shoulder after she’d fired two shots right into the bullseye, and her pride was written all over her face and in the way she stood, shoulders squared and chest out.

  Looking at the pictures, I thought about how long it had been since I’d seen any of them, and that made me sad. I knew I was reminiscing because of the trip to the cabin, but who wouldn’t? Every life in those photos had ended in tragedy, suddenly, except mine, and I sometimes wondered why I had lived on. More than once, I’d explored the idea that I carried a curse, and no one close to me would ever be safe. But I didn’t dredge myself in misery, so my sour mood never lasted long.

  I walked past the Wall, blowing a kiss, and I headed to the kitchen to put my leftovers away. My thoughts turned to Luke and his father. Was Everett terminally ill? Had that been the reason they wanted to come back to what Luke referred to as his ‘roots’ in upstate New York? He certainly looked like something serious might be wrong, and I felt sorry for Luke. Having my family ripped away suddenly had stung, but I could only imagine the heartache of watching them fade away.