Page 35 of Beautiful Deceit
I nod, "Just one other time, but they didn't look like that."
His voice softens, "When baby?" The endearment helps to melt away both my fears and disgust.
"About a month ago, I guess."
"Nothing else, are you sure?"
"Yeah I'm sure. Just the flowers one time. Coincidence maybe?" I'm grasping at straws, but I don’t want to discuss it further. He knows what the carnations mean to me, having heard the story before.
"Alright Sweets, does anyone else know about them, someone from your past? Maybe someone trying to scare you?"
"No, Beau. You and Rita are the only ones I've told anything. Rita didn’t know about the flowers, and I don't really have anyone from the past." I walk inside, and he follows. Anna stares when we pass. I don't have the energy to deal with her right now, so I ignore her.
I tell Jess I'll be busy for a bit as Beau and I walk over to the lounge door.
When Beau enters, I close it.
I am hesitant, but still make the request, "Would you do me a favor and look for a card? I know they're gross, but I really don't want to mess with them." He strips off his hat while setting the bouquet and his coffee on the table. He takes the cup from my hand and places it next to the one he's already abandoned.
Then he does something that I don’t expect; it makes the lust I feel for him insignificant. He holds me. My heart swells with feeling. A feeling I'm not too eager to describe or name. When he holds me, I feel safe.
For the first time, I feel protected by a man, rather than threatened. I'm close to turning into a sobbing mess from how strongly this makes me feel. I release him, even though it's the last thing I want to do.
I’m sitting at the table, sipping the coffee Beau gave me. The aforementioned man is currently demanding someone to be here today from the alarm company. He wants cameras installed by the end of the day. How he’s the one placing the call instead of me is a mystery, but I am grateful for him taking care of it and me. I blush and duck my head to take another sip. It’s stupid how girlish I feel about him, especially at a time like this, but it’s been the first time in my life I’ve been able to feel this way about a man.
He bangsthe phone onto the receiver, signaling the end of the call for him. He grumbles something under his breath.
"They can't be here until Monday," he sounds disgusted. "Can you take off until then? It's only one day, tomorrow.”
"I guess," I shrug, dreading the fact that I'll have nothing to keep me busy at home.
"Let's get out of here then. I have a friend that might be able to help us. This kind of thing is just what he does." When he saysus,it doesn't escape my attention.
"Help with what?"
Beau looks at me very seriously and answers, "Finding out what this prick has been up to and where he is."
I frown deeply, not knowing if I want to face this head on, as Beau has decided. As much as I have enjoyed Beau’s care, I’m not certain I want him wrapped up in all of this. Our relationship is already so complex with his stuff hanging as a specter above us. Adding mine just might make it all too much for us.
I have little time to think as Beau pulls me along. He tosses the bouquet in the trash with our coffees and grabs my purse as he tugs me out of the store. I wave helplessly to Jess. She thinks I’m off to have some much-needed TLC and gives me a highly suggestive wink and a half-cocked grin.
As we enter my place,I give Beau the details I omitted in the past. I hand over my stepfather’s identity and his last known location, but I make him promise he won’t do anything with the information, especially as I recall him wanting to commit violence on the man.
After I give out the basics, he asks if I have any photos of him, "My mom was pretty young when she had me, twenty-one I think. Darryl was twenty-three or something when he started seeing my mom." I pull out the one picture I have left of us together. I unfold the image, so Darryl comes into view. It was taken at the lake house two months before she died. "My mom was beautiful, so I never wondered why a man so much younger than her was interested in her. Men always took notice of her whether it was her smile or infectious laugh; people loved her." I run my hand over her smiling face, "As I said previously, he started coming by after my mom called in a complaint about our barn being vandalized. Nothing serious, just kicked over hay bales and doors left open, but it was enough to let us know someone had been there. We lived a ways out from town, so she wanted the police to check it out.”
I sigh, “Darryl was just a cop to me. I didn't even speak to him the first couple times he stopped by. I think the barn was vandalized once more. He used that as an excuse to pop in and check on us, even if he wasn't working.”
I look up, not seeing the room around me but remembering the past, “I could tell it flattered my mother to have his attention. He was ten years younger, good looking, and seemed to hang on every word she said. It was like he loved her before he even knew her."
“Sounds like that would be easy to do,” Beau says, his eyes lingering on my face. “You look just like her.”
“You think?” I ask, hopeful. I crave the few connections we might have.
His hand reaches for mine. For the second time today, I am reminded that I’m not alone.
I look down, struggling to say, "Her death was ruled an accident. Late at night---winding road---you know. I never questioned it.” I feel tears well in my eyes, and I snuff them out quickly, taking a breath before I finish, “It wasn't until I was gone and had gotten a little older that I realized it didn’t make sense.”
Beau gives my hand a slight squeeze, urging me on. I say the words that I have never been able to say out loud.
