The Ties That Bind (8 page)

Sage cleared her throat. I looked at her. She was struggling not to laugh.

"What? It's a legitimate question." I pretended offense.

She put her fork down and reached over to take my hand. "Honey, you have got to stop taking what Kara says so personally."

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth.

"Kara always teases you about...what?"

I grimaced. "My anal research streak."

"And you talked to her yesterday. This question never comes up unless someone teases you about it."

I shook my head. "Am I that predictable? Damn."

She squeezed my hand and released it. "No. Just about certain things. This is one of them." She reached for her water glass.

I finished another delectable bite. "I love your cooking." I waggled my eyebrows at her. "I'm the luckiest woman on the planet."

Sage smiled and served herself another enchilada from the pan. "I'd argue that
I
am."

I watched her for a moment, seeing a shadow in her expression that disappeared as quickly as it had come. I put my fork down. "This thing with your dad--what would help you come to some kind of resolution with it?"

She looked up at me and for the first time in the two years I had known her, I saw wisps of uncertainty in her eyes. I reached for her hand. She interlaced her fingers with mine.

"This is going to sound weird," she started.

"I doubt it." I squeezed her hand. Life with Sage was sometimes like living with a mystic. Something about the wind-and time-carved Wyoming landscapes of her childhood opened other senses for her. Sage grew into one of those people who carried an inner wisdom that many of us didn't have or that we chose to ignore. Our own connections to bigger things seemed so unimportant in the mundanities of our lives. But if you stop to think about it, everything is about connection to bigger things. Sage was always aware of that. Most of us weren't.

"Something's brewing." She studied our joined hands, resting on the table. "You know how you can tell a storm's coming even if there're no clouds? Like during monsoon season." She looked up at me. "That's what it feels like. And it's put me out of sorts."

I waited, stroking the back of her hand with my thumb.

"It's not good energy, whatever it is. There's sadness and anger." She lowered her gaze back to our hands. "And fear." She sighed.

"Your dad's in this mix?"

She nodded, a distant, troubled expression in her eyes.

"What do you need me to do?" I asked, feeling a little prickle of anxiety on the back of my neck. I almost turned around to see if somebody was watching from the front porch.

Sage pulled her hand out of mine and cupped my cheek. "You're already doing it."

I leaned into her palm. "So we're just...waiting."

She nodded. "Something's out of balance. But I expect we'll know more soon." She studied my face.

I clenched my teeth. I suck at waiting. My impatient, rational self seeks answers. Needs them. I turned my head and kissed her palm.

"I know," she whispered. "But waiting, too, is a form of action."

I offered a wry smile. "If I'm not doing or saying what you'd like or want, you'll tell me?"

Sage leaned in and kissed me. "Yes." She pulled back, studying my eyes in a way that undressed my soul. She stood. "I'm going to call River." She started to pick up our plates.

"I'll get this." I took the plates from her and her fingers brushed mine, sending a strange, hot jolt up my arm. Surprised, I remained standing in front of her, plates in both hands. "Did you--" I started, but the look on her face stopped me. Intense but relieved. For the first time in over two days, she visibly relaxed. "Tell you what," I said, pleasantly rattled. "I'll finish up with this while you call River. Then how about I open K.C.'s awesome massage clinic?"

She giggled. "Do I need to make an appointment?"

"Hell, no. It's Sage-specific. Open all day, every day for you."

"What are your rates?"

"For you, we work somethin' out, eh?" I answered in an imitation of my paternal grandfather, whose gruff Italian accent ran right up to the edge of stereotype.

Sage laughed. "An offer I can't refuse. I'll try to hurry." She grinned and headed to the office. I watched her, still holding the damn plates, wishing I could will her shorts right off her hips. Dishes first. I took the plates into the kitchen.

I JERKED AWAKE. Disoriented, I glanced around the bedroom, trying to figure out what woke me up. I remained lying on my side, spooning Sage, and listened, trying to sort through the usual night noises. A lone car driving past. A dog barking two blocks over. And a soft knocking and rattling at the front security door. I slowly pulled my arm off Sage and sat up, automatically glancing at the clock on my bedside table. 2:47 in the morning. Sage sat up as well.

"You heard that too?" she whispered.

"Yeah." I pushed the sheet aside and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness. I put my glasses on, then retrieved my T-shirt from the floor and pulled it over my head. Another soft knock, like on a window. "What the fuck?" I whispered even as I heard Sage rummaging in her dresser and knew she was in the process of removing her handgun. I hated that she had it, especially since my run-in with neo-Nazis two years ago. But she'd grown up with guns and she practiced regularly, so at least she knew how to use it. I heard her snap the magazine into place but I kept my mouth shut and retrieved my own weapon--a Louisville Slugger--from under the bed. Thus armed, we both left the bedroom and crept into the living room. Light from the streetlamp out front filtered through the curtains over the front windows, creating dim pools of light near the heavy oak door.

I licked my lips, thinking I heard something moving around on the front porch. But I wasn't sure. Sage glided to the front window to the left of the door, gun in her right hand. Are we that jumpy about her dad that it's come to this? A showdown at the OK Corral? She started to push the curtain aside and then she stopped and motioned me to go to the window on the other side of the door. She put her finger to her lips and we stood, half-naked statues, listening. This time, I did hear something on the wooden porch floor. A series of clicks, like someone typing on a keyboard. I turned to look at Sage and her eyes seemed like dark stones in her head.

She reached with her left hand toward the light switch and I tightened my grip on my bat. She turned the porch light on and something skittered across the porch floor. I flung the curtains open and scanned outside. "Fucking dog," I muttered, catching a movement across the street that melted into shadow.

"A dog?" came Sage's voice, low and urgent.

I let go of the curtain and it fell back into place. "I
think
that's what it was." Had to be an animal, since it moved way too fast to be human.

Sage slowly opened the curtains over her window then, and I waited, holding onto my bat like I was choking the life out of it. She gazed outside for a couple of minutes. Satisfied, she let go of the fabric and it settled back into place. She removed the magazine from her gun and stood tapping the cartridge against her bare thigh. "We forgot to turn the porch light on."

"Clearly," I answered, though how that would deter a stray dog I didn't know.

"Did you lock the back?"

"Yeah. I think I turned the light on, too."

We both turned toward the arched kitchen doorway behind us. I relaxed, recognizing the reflection on the linoleum floor as the glow of the back porch light. "I'll check the door again." I padded past the couches and the table into the kitchen. One door separated us from the mud room, a less-solid wooden door with a window about two-thirds of the way up. I opened it and crossed in three steps to the second wooden door--a match to the one I'd just opened. I tested it. Locked. Swallowing hard, I leaned my bat against a wall and unlocked it and opened it in order to check the metal barred and steel mesh security door beyond. I exhaled with relief. Locked. Out of habit, I glanced to the right, toward Jeff's place. His front porch light was on, as well. But he was pretty good about that. I closed the inner door and locked it again.

"Okay?" Sage asked from the doorway into the front room as I closed the door that separated the kitchen from the mud room.

"Yep. Everything was locked." I picked up my bat and followed her into the bedroom. She turned her bedside lamp on and returned her gun and magazine to its place in her dresser. I didn't put my bat under the bed this time. Instead, I leaned it against my bedside table. Sage climbed into bed and waited while I settled in before she turned the light off. She pressed her back against my front and I pulled her hard against me with my right arm, hand on her abdomen. She covered my hand with hers and I imagined a warm current moved back and forth between us.

"You all right?" I asked.

"Yeah. Just a little shaken up." She burrowed against me and I tried to get closer but I was already plastered to her back like a second skin. She fit so well here with me, the curves of her body complementing mine, the length of her legs tucked in close. A sense of connection settled over me, the warmth of a high desert morning after a long winter's night.

"Pretty freaky," I acknowledged.

"Very."

We remained like that for a while until I felt Sage's body relax and her hold on my hand slipped.

"I love you," I whispered as her breathing deepened. She mumbled something sleepily back.
And I won't let anything happen to you.
I kissed her cheek and arranged myself into a more comfortable position. I was more tired than I expected as I crashed from the earlier adrenaline blast. I sighed and closed my eyes. My last coherent thought was that dogs can't rap on windows.

KARA CALLED AT 8:30 the next morning to let me know she was on her way. I hung up with her just as Sage emerged from the bathroom toweling her hair.

"How's Kara?"

"Good," I managed, staring at her.

Sage looked up at me while finger-combing her hair. "And?" She was teasing me.

"Okay, that's just not fair. I can't think when you walk around the house like that."

"Like what?" She offered me a certain devilish smile.

"Like some butt-ass naked wanton hussy." I moved toward her and pulled her against me. She rested her head against my shoulder, her arms around my waist. I inhaled, loving the way she smelled.

"I'm sorry," she said after a while.

"For what?"

"Last night. I know you don't like guns, especially after what happened with Megan. And that was really stupid of me. I don't know why I freaked and reacted that way."

"You've got stuff on your mind," I said, stroking her back. "But is it okay if I ask you not to go all John Wayne like that at every little noise?"

Sage giggled. "Please do."

"I know. We'll have a safe word."

She started laughing and pushed away.

"No, really," I continued, following her into the bedroom. She threw the towel at me and I caught it. "No, wait...A safe
phrase.
'Hey, there pardner,'" I said in a bad John Wayne drawl. "Or how about 'back off, pardner'."

Sage picked her T-shirt off the bed and threw that at me, too.

"Now, now. Back off, pardner," I repeated, tossing her shirt aside as I advanced toward her. She pulled me into a kiss and nothing else came to mind.

"Thank you," she said against my lips after what might have been minutes or hours. In my fogged state, I didn't know. "You always make me feel better." She ran her fingertips over my mouth and along my cheek. "I'm sorry for being so weird," she added.

"We're all weird, honey. It's just that I happen to like your weirdnesses. I think they look good with mine." I kissed her forehead. "I'm going to call Chris. See if they can come over tomorrow for dinner. We haven't had a pizza party in a while. What do you think?"

"I think...you're the best girlfriend in the fucking world. That sounds great." She pecked my cheek and I released her. She moved to her dresser.

"Maybe you should swing by
Abuelita
's this week," I suggested. "She might have some clarity for you."

"I might." She pulled on a pair of black panties and put on a matching bra. "I love that Chris shares her grandmother."

"And speaking of Chris's relatives, call John, too. Maybe he can do some cooking with you this weekend."

Sage turned to look at me, a wry smile on her lips. "Too bad he plays for our team. He might have been a good match for Kara."

"You think?"

She pulled a pair of black linen shorts on. "He's very grounded, like Chris. Even since he came out to the family."

"Give it time." I flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. "It's only been a couple of months. Their mom'll drive him crazy soon enough. She's checking with all her friends to see if their daughters are available."

Sage giggled. "He'll be fine. He's focused but easygoing. Someone like that would be good for Kara."

I sat up and watched as Sage slipped a light blue v-neck tee on. "I don't even know if she's seeing anybody right now."

Sage opened a hand-carved cedar box on her dresser and selected a pair of earrings. "She didn't say?"

"No. But then, I didn't ask. She gets weird if any of us ask her."

She put her earrings in, a pair of small silver hoops. "I'll ask her. I'm interested to see where she is with things."

I smiled to myself. Sage sounded more like herself today and I fervently hoped this creepy shit with her dad passed quickly, though Tamara Kee's words echoed through my thoughts.
"Watch your next steps on your path."

"Sweetie, I have to go," she said, turning to regard me.

"I know. You want a bagel for the road?"

"I'd
love
a bagel for the road."

I bounced off the bed and went to prepare the requested item. Ten minutes later I stood on the front porch with her. "Bye. Have a good day. Say hi to all those senior citizens. Especially the old men who stare longingly at you. The ones who take this workshop every time you offer it."