Trusting Again Page 13

  To say she was inhospitable was to underestimate her venomous tone by a considerable amount. “What the hell are you doing here? Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?” she asked.

  “I’m not trying to cause trouble, Liz. I’m trying to repair the damage from last night. Can I come in and talk to you? Please?” He tried to take a step into the gallery but Liz blocked his way.

  “What would I want to talk to you about?”

  “The obvious. Cynthia.”

  “I don’t think there’s a single thing I care to discuss with you in regard to that subject. Although there’s a whole hell of a lot you need to talk to her about. If she’ll talk to you. Which I doubt.”

  “Look, I know I need to straighten things out with her, but I don’t know how to find her. She’s not answering her phone or returning my … ”

  “After what you put her through at the Art Museum? Do you blame her?”

  “She wasn’t answering her phone before that. Is she staying with … ?”

  “And why the hell do you think I’ll tell you where she is? You have brass balls, Hernandez, if you think I’m going to help you hurt that poor woman any more than you’ve already done.”

  “I don’t want to hurt her; I want to talk to her. Hell, I never intended … ”

  “You never intended what? To humiliate her by flaunting your girlfriend in front of her and her friends? Didn’t you think dating other women when you’ve been practically living with her would hurt her?”

  “Bella’s a family friend. We weren’t on a date. Her father … ”

  “She was hanging on you like you were a Christmas tree and she was tinsel. That’s not how my family friends act.”

  “I’m not responsible for … ”

  “Of course not. You’re not responsible for being so overwhelmingly attractive that women hang all over you, are you?” Her expression was positively poisonous. “What arrogant male bullshit. I really thought you were better than that.”

  Marius was silent, even after she’d finished her rant.

  “Don’t you have anything else to say for yourself?” Liz asked.

  “When you decide to let me finish a sentence, I do. And I’d prefer to do it inside unless you want to continue being performance art for the neighborhood.”

  He saw her look at the passersby walking slowly, pretending to look in her gallery’s windows but actually enjoying the conversation they were eavesdropping on. “All right. You can come in. I’ll give you one minute to finish enough sentences to convince me I should help you.”

  He stepped into the gallery and Liz closed the door before pointedly looking at her watch. “One minute. Go.”

  “My father asked me to come to Portland to attend the funeral of an old and dear family friend — Bella’s father. I called Cynthia a dozen times to tell her about the change in plans, but she wasn’t picking up so I could only leave messages. After the funeral, Bella stayed in Portland to wind up her father’s affairs. One of which was the glass exhibit where some of Mr. Rodriguez’s collection was on display. She thought she needed to be there to represent the family, but didn’t want to go alone. I agreed to go with her as a favor to a woman who’d just lost her father.” He took a deep breath. “Is my time up?”

  “Keep going. You’ve got my attention.”

  “Bella has always been spoiled and indulged by her father. She’s young and scared and right now … ”

  “She’s looking for another man to spoil and indulge her?”

  He was surprised at how astute Liz’s observation was about a woman she’d seen for only a few minutes. “Possibly. I’ve never seen her behave that badly before. She knows I’m in love with Cynthia, but that didn’t seem to change the way she was acting. Then, after the conversation with all of you, she was embarrassed, accused me of deliberately humiliating her in front of everyone and yelled at me the whole way to her father’s house. So, in the course of one fun evening, a family friend who’d just lost her father, the woman I love, and three of her friends all ended up pissed at me.”

  “Is this the truth, Marius?”

  His mouth curved into a half smile. “Thank you. At least I’ve progressed from Hernandez to Marius. And, yes, it’s the truth.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us all this last night?” Liz moved further into the gallery, leading Marius toward her office.

  “I tried and got shut down.”

  “You didn’t try hard enough.”

  “I probably didn’t. I was jet-lagged, out with a badly behaving family friend and facing a wall of angry females surrounding Cynthia. It was escalating into a nasty scene and I couldn’t deal with it. I thought — I hoped — Cynthia would at least talk to me long enough to let me explain what was going on. I was wrong.” He wiped his hand over his face, feeling tired and out of gas.

  Liz seemed to see him clearly for the first time. “You look like hell. Like you could use a cup of coffee.”

  “I could use a gallon of coffee. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “In my office, I’ve got coffee and Amanda’s address and phone number. That’s where Cynthia stayed last night. I don’t imagine she slept any better than you did. Maybe you can catch her before she leaves to go back to Seattle.”

  • • •

  Half an hour later, he was in the Alameda neighborhood where Amanda lived, having decided he wouldn’t risk a phone call, fearing that would only make Cynthia run again, this time for who-knew-where. And he was too tired to go on a wild goose chase. If he was going to have to chase, he wanted to know where he had to go. He would either find her here or find a way to convince Amanda to tell him where Cynthia had gone.

  He sat in his car by the curb for a few minutes, finishing up the third cup of coffee Liz had given him and getting up his courage to tackle what was going to be another tough conversation. Finally, he walked up the driveway to the door. The first response to his knock was the bark of a dog; the second was a man with sandy brown hair and a wary look who opened the door. Somehow, Marius was sure the man had been watching him from the house.

  “Can I help you?” the man asked. He was holding the collar of a large, black, curly coated dog.

  “My name is Marius Hernandez,” he began.

  The man’s expression turned from wary to curious. “You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that. I’m Sam Richardson, Amanda’s husband.”

  Marius asked, “Is Cynthia here?”

  “She was. She left early this morning for home.”

  “Damn. I hoped … ”

  “Who is it, Sam?” Amanda appeared behind her husband, a baby in her arms. She clutched the baby tighter when her eyes caught sight of Marius. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “That seems to be the universal greeting for me this morning. Liz said the same thing.”

  “Is that how you found me? You tortured Liz?”

  “I explained to Liz that I needed to talk to Cynthia. And once I explained why, she gave me your address, yes.”

  “Remind me not to speak to her again,” Amanda said. “She’s a traitor.”

  “If you’ll let me explain … ”

  “Explain what? That you’re a bastard? I don’t need to hear an explanation for that. I already know it.”

  Sam stepped back from the door. “Maybe you should come in and talk to my wife in the living room.” He waved Marius in. “And I’ll take Kat, pretty lady. You’re holding her so tight, she might not be getting enough oxygen.” He took the baby from his wife’s reluctant arms. “I’ll leave you two to figure this out between yourselves. And good luck, Hernandez, you’re gonna need it.” He headed for the steps with his daughter, calling for the dog to follow him.

  Amanda glared at him. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Can we sit down?”

  “I’m fine standing up and you won’t be here long enough to get tired of being on your feet. Say what you have to say and leave.”

  He gave Amanda the same sh
ort version of what he’d been doing in Portland he’d given Liz. When he was finished, she dropped abruptly into the chair she’d said she didn’t want to sit on.

  “Oh.”

  “I tried to tell you all at the museum without making too much of a scene, but I couldn’t get past your wall. I understood why you were doing it but it didn’t make it easy for me to explain what was going on.”

  “So you’ve talked to everyone now?”

  “I went to see Liz this morning. She was reasonably gracious … ”

  “That’s saying a lot for Liz.” He thought she was close to smiling.

  “Reasonably gracious after she gave me hell. But she told me Cynthia was staying here, gave me your address and phone number. I’d been trying to call Cynthia for two days but she wasn’t picking up.”

  “She wasn’t answering the phone before she left Seattle and she didn’t bring her cell with her.”

  “I wanted to see her, not just talk to her, that’s why I hoped she was still here. She didn’t say she wasn’t.”

  “Didn’t say she wasn’t? Then you talked to her?”

  “Yeah, isn’t that what I just said? I talked to her this morning. She gave me hell but once I explained it all, she was okay. She forgave me. That’s how I got here.”

  “She forgave you. Then you know why she was upset.”

  “Of course I know why she was upset. I’m the one who upset everyone.”

  “No, I mean beyond what happened last night. She told you about the baby.”

  “The baby? What baby?”

  Chapter 16

  “Cynthia didn’t tell you she was pregnant?”

  “How could she tell me anything when she won’t talk to me?” He wasn’t sure if he was more surprised, worried or anxious. “Pregnant? Mother of God. She was all alone when she found out, wasn’t she? She must be terrified. That’s why she was in Portland. To see you, not go to the glass exhibit.”

  “Won’t talk to you? You said you talked to her. That she forgave you.”

  “Liz … Liz forgave me. Why would I be here if I’d already talked to Cynthia? I’m here because I hoped she’d be with you.” He started toward the door. “I have to get to Seattle.”

  “This is awful. I had no business telling you. I have to call her, explain.”

  “NO!” He whirled around and reached for Amanda as she picked up the phone.

  Sam walked back into the room just as Marius grabbed Amanda’s arm. He took two quick steps toward his wife.

  “Let her go, Hernandez. Now.” His hands were in fists as he spoke. He put his arm around his wife, pulled her against him, turning sideways to shield her with his body.

  Marius may not have recognized Sam’s cop face but he heard the ring of authority in the low, hard tone of his voice. He dropped Amanda’s arm and put both hands in the air. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Amanda patted her husband’s arm. “I’m fine, Sam. After what I just did, Marius has every reason to be angry at me but he’s not going to hurt me.”

  Marius dropped his hands but hoped the pleading tone in his voice would be enough to convince Amanda. “Please don’t call her. I don’t want her running again. Let me talk to her first. I have to make sure she’s all right.”

  Amanda squirmed out of Sam’s protective embrace and went to Marius. “I’m so, so sorry. I should never have said anything. Please forgive me?”

  “I’m not angry. And there’s nothing to forgive. I’m glad I know. I just want to talk to her before she gets it in her head to run again, to Bellingham or Pullman. I’d never be able to convince her parents or her sister to let me talk to her.” He closed his eyes for a moment and wiped his hand over his face. “She needs to know she doesn’t have to deal with this alone. That it’s okay. We’ll make this work. Together.”

  Amanda looked at Marius, her big hazel eyes wide. “Oh, my God, you love her, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. I spent most of my free time for the past month trying to think of ways to persuade her to marry me.”

  “And you’re not freaked about her being pregnant?”

  “Surprised, yes. Freaked, no. This may be just what I need to convince her I’m right about us being together. About marrying me. I expected an argument from her.”

  Amanda threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. “Go. Get to Seattle. Tell her what you’ve told me. And have her call me when she stops crying.”

  • • •

  He finally caught a break or two. No cop was lurking on I-84 as he roared out to the airport at speeds that would have gotten him one hell of a ticket if he’d been caught. It took less time than usual to turn in the rental car and there was a seat available on a plane to Seattle that left a half-hour after he bought the ticket. He even had enough time to get more coffee into his tired body before he boarded the plane.

  In flying time, it’s only an hour from Portland to Seattle. Before Marius boarded the plane, he was sure it would seem longer than his flight from Panama to Portland, he was that anxious to get home. But once he was on the way, he wondered if an hour was enough time to prepare for the most important conversation of his life, at least his personal life.

  If she wouldn’t listen to him, if she turned him away, he didn’t think he’d ever find with another woman what he’d found with her. He had spent the two years before she’d come into his life assuming he’d eventually return to Miami. Now all he could think about was what kind of life they’d have in Seattle, the two of them.

  And their kid. Their kids. Kid. Whatever. He’d come from a big family; he’d always thought that once he found the right woman he’d have a big family, too. But if she wanted this baby to be an only child, he’d happily go along with it. Anything to make her happy. To keep her his.

  He took a small box from his jacket pocket. Held it for a moment, then opened it. Inside was a gold ring, the setting a delicate design of swirls and loops with a diamond set in the center and two sapphires flanking it. The design was one he’d traced from memory, based on a piece of her jewelry he’d seen her wear. The sapphires were exactly the color of her eyes.

  He’d had it made for her by a goldsmith in Honduras, a family friend. Now, all he had to do was get her to accept it. That was what he’d been struggling with before he got to Portland — coming up with a way to accomplish that. But he had no idea how to get it done. You’d think by now he would stop trying to make plans about anything with this woman. This would have to be purely seat-of-the-pants. He hoped like hell whatever he came up with when he saw her was successful.

  “You need to fasten your seatbelt, sir. We’re about to land in Seattle,” the flight attendant said. She looked at the ring in his hand. “That’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  “Thank you. It’s for a unique woman so it had to be very special.”

  “She’s lucky. Are congratulations in order?”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  The flight attendant winked at him. “I think she’ll say yes. I would.”

  • • •

  Cynthia had left Portland right after breakfast, if a cup of tea and a piece of toast qualified as breakfast. The smell of coffee had made her slightly nauseated that morning. She blamed the pregnancy but maybe it was something else, like betrayal by a handsome coffee broker. She hoped not. She really liked coffee.

  Apparently for this trip on the interstate, there was a bulletin out that she was desperate to be home and all the traffic stayed out of her way. By eleven, she was in her studio, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds — the hiss of the propane torch, the translucent colors of the glass rods, the sight of them bending to her will as she shaped her beads in the flame. She hoped that having to pay close attention to the molten glass and high temperature flame might keep her from thinking about anything else for a while.

  It worked. Hours slipped by. She wrapped finished beads in wire, wove silver strands into elaborate designs and soldered metal
together for neckpieces and cuff bracelets. On the torch, she warmed up, then melted, glass from long rods onto a coated mandrill, shaping round, oval and square beads.

  Once finished, the beads went into her small kilns for a controlled cool-down to prevent them from breaking. Pleased with her new designs, she was intent on beginning to create the beads she wanted to incorporate into the cuff bracelet she’d been working on. She missed the sound of her studio door opening, apparently, because when she heard a very familiar male voice say, “When were you planning to tell me?” she was startled.

  Even through the tinted lenses of her protective glasses and the glare of the propane flame, she could see that Marius, who was standing just inside the door of her studio, looked tired and unusually serious. Either that or he was mad as hell at her. Surprised either by his expression or by his being there, her hand jerked and the glass rod she was holding, which hadn’t been warmed up yet, hit the flame and shattered into bits when the cold glass came in contact with the heat.

  “Damn it,” she said, standing up quickly enough that the stool she was sitting on fell over, clattering loudly as it did. However, she wasn’t fast enough to get away from the pieces of broken glass that spattered on the front of her shirt, melting into the fabric.

  She didn’t see him move but suddenly Marius was in front of her, brushing off her shirt, asking, “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, no thanks to you.” She pushed his hand away and took off her glasses. “What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with your ‘friend’ or whatever you’re calling her now?” She shook her head and turned off the torch before she was tempted to use it on his carefully pressed shirt and trousers. Even tired and terribly serious, he was beautiful to look at. Damn him.

  “Oh, good. A perfect three,” he said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”