Maggie Shayne - Return of the Light

“Kind of formal, don’t you think? Given our history?”

She shrugged. “It’s been a long time.”

“So long you can’t even call me Jason anymore?”

She met his eyes, and he saw something flicker. Regret, maybe. Interest, perhaps, he hoped. Her tone softened, as did her face. He thought a little of the stiffness left her body.

“What can I do for you, Jason?”

“A cup of coffee would do for starters. If it’s fresh.”

“I stopped serving people at five, but you’re welcome to help yourself.”

“I’ll take it.” He tugged off his boots and then sock-footed his way across the kitchen, draping his coat over the back of a chair on the way. Then he took two mugs from the little wooden tree and filled them. He set them on the table, grabbed the cream from the fridge and sat down.

She sat down, as well. He poured cream into his cup, then passed it to her.

“Nope. I drink it black.”

“You didn’t used to.”

She frowned.

“Two sugars and a good long stream of half-and-half. But only if no real cream was at hand. I remember.”

She studied him for a long moment, her green eyes wide and searching. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I remember everything, Dori.” He shrugged and sipped his coffee.

It seemed to take her a moment to stop staring at him and find something to say again. He took that as a positive sign and told himself that was because he was a pathetic sap.

“What are you doing here, Jason?”

“It’s an official visit. You didn’t think I was here to ask you out again, did you?”

She shrugged. “It crossed my mind.”

“I’m not into masochism, Dori. You made it clear the first time that you didn’t have any interest in starting anything up with me.”

“With anyone,” she corrected.

“Right. Because you would only be here long enough to decide which big-city offer to accept, and then you’d be out of here so fast we’d see nothing but a copper-red streak.”

“Is that what I said?” She averted her eyes and drank her coffee instead of looking at him. He’d hit a nerve, he thought.

“That’s what you said. ’Course, that was damn close to a year ago.”

She sighed. “I get where you’re going with this. I’m still here, right? So did you come to rub it in? Gloat a little that the snotty city snob got knocked down a peg?”

He swore softly, and that drew her eyes back to his again. He said, “Hey, it’s me. Jason. Do you remember anything at all about me?”

She frowned for a moment, then nodded twice. “You’re right. You’d never gloat over my failed life. You’re not that kind. Never were.”

“Well, thank goodness you remember at least that much. I’ll tell you, Dori, city living made you cynical. Gave you a hard edge you didn’t used to have.”

“That’s probably true.”

He hadn’t come here to insult her, but he thought he just had. “I was only asking about your still being here because it makes me wonder if maybe your plans have changed.” He hoped to God she would say they had, but the misery in her eyes told him different even before she did.

Dori lowered her head. “My plans haven’t changed. But what I plan to do and what I can do are turning out to be further apart than I imagined.”

He held her gaze for a long moment. “So you still plan to take some big-time job and hightail it back to the city at the first opportunity?”

“I sent out a dozen more résumés last week.”

He sighed. “Are you sure you don’t belong out here, Dori? Hell, nobody tells those Champ stories the way you do.”

She tilted her head to one side, averted her eyes. “You said you were here on official business?”

Jason sighed. If she was determined to freeze him out, there wasn’t much he could do about it. “Yeah. Wanted to ask if you could help me out on a case.”

She looked up at him fast. “Jesus, how do you know about that? No one out here knows about that!”

He was taken by surprise. “About what?”

“Look, Jason, I don’t do that kind of work anymore, okay?”

He had no idea what she was talking about, but suddenly he wanted to. So he narrowed his eyes and watched her as carefully as he would watch an ex-con in town for the weekend, and he took a shot in the dark. “Why not? You did it in New York, didn’t you?”

She lowered her head. “It’s different in New York,” she said. “A psychic or even a Witch helping the police find a missing person is so common there it doesn’t even make the news every time anymore. Out here it would be the biggest headline to hit town in a decade.”

He blinked three times. A Witch. She did say Witch, didn’t she?

“You, uh, helped the police find some missing people.”

“Helped. Past tense. Like I said, I don’t do it anymore.”

“And you used…uh…Witchcraft to do it?”

She shrugged. “I used whatever I could. The cards, the runes. My instincts.”

“You’re…psychic?”

“Everyone’s psychic.” She sipped her coffee. “Some people learn how to hone it, how to use it. I’m one of them.”

“So you were successful?”

She nodded, but she was looking at him oddly now. “You didn’t know any of this, did you?”

“I didn’t have a clue. So you went off to the big city and came back a Witch, huh?”

She closed her eyes, irritated it seemed. “If you weren’t aware of my history, then why were you asking for my help with a case?”

“I just need an extra pair of eyes. Some kids have been borrowing boats and taking them out on the lake to party. It’s not safe—especially this time of year. I was hoping you’d keep a lookout and give me a call if you see anything suspicious.”

She closed her eyes. “Oh.”

“So tell me more about this…Witch thing.”

She drew a deep breath, then shook her head. “No.”

“No? Come on, Dori, you can’t just leave me hanging like that.”

“Yes, I can. It’s not something I want to become public knowledge. Not out here—people wouldn’t understand.”

“What, you think I’m completely ignorant? I know what Wicca is. That is what we’re talking about here, right?”

She nodded slowly.

“And as for not letting it get around, you know me better than that, don’t you?”

“Do I?”

“You did once. You knew me well enough to make love to me, Dori. Or did you forget that, too?”

“Jason…”

“Knew me well enough to let me believe we had something special, then left me in the dust, wondering what truck had just run me down.”

She lowered her eyes.

“You trusted me then, didn’t you, Dori?”

“People change.”

“You sure as hell proved that.” He sighed. “But I’m the same guy I was back then. A little older. A little wiser, maybe. But you can still trust me.”

She sighed. “I haven’t changed as much as you think I have,” she said softly. “I couldn’t be who I was. Not here. Not in this town.”

“It wasn’t the town holding you back, Dori. That was all you.”

She sighed. “Maybe. Maybe I was just afraid.”

“Maybe you still are.”

She was quiet a moment, seeming to think things over. “I was thinking about reserving a table at the Holiday Craft Fair. Doing tarot readings for people.”

He lifted his brows. “Yeah?”

“I wasn’t sure what the reaction would be, though.”

He shrugged. “As a rule, the word psychic doesn’t stir up the same feelings as the word Witch.”

“I could really use the extra money.”

“So do it. Give folks a little credit, Dori. Just ’cause this isn’t a major metropolitan city doesn’t mean we’re all ignorant here. This is Vermont, for goodness’ sake. Most open-minded state in the union.”