Sometime Yesterday Read online

  She searched her heart and yes, incredibly, she had fallen for Natalie. If she was honest with herself, and she usually was, she had known Natalie was different that first night on the beach. Love at first sight she reasoned, and Van was lucky enough to have experienced it twice in her lifetime. She turned Natalie onto her side and curled to spoon behind her. Tomorrow held promises she hadn’t dared to hope for in years.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Natalie was surprised when she woke up refreshed. No dreams or flashbacks during the night to haunt her. She carefully unwound herself from Van’s embrace and pulled a T-shirt over her head while she padded into the kitchen to make coffee.

  When she pulled a stool up to the counter, she spotted Van’s bullet list she’d made the other night when they laid out the events that had occurred in her house. Natalie had refused to talk about any of it last night. She put her energy instead to pleasing Van. She felt herself blush when she recalled how many ways she’d found and loved.

  Natalie sighed happily. The coffee smelled wonderful.

  “Hey.” Van stood in the doorway wearing boxers and a thin ribbed tank. Natalie felt her nerve endings wake up and tingle pleasantly.

  “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

  “No, the bed got cold without you. What are you doing up so early?”

  “I’m adding another revelation to our connections. I didn’t tell you about my last experience or even touch on what Sarah wrote in the diary I found in that case.”

  “Another one? What happened?” Van kissed the top of Natalie’s head then filled two coffee cups and brought them over. “A diary?”

  “I’ll be right back.” Natalie ran back to the bedroom to get Sarah’s book out of her purse. When she returned, she paraphrased the contents for Van then flipped to the last entry. “Richard kept Sarah prisoner in the root cellar. Do you think—”

  “Here’s how I see it,” Van interrupted. “I’ve taken the day off. We can beat our heads against the wall trying to solve your mystery, or we can forget this for a while, be normal, and spend the day together doing whatever feels good—without any dead relatives from the past and without poltergeist behavior going on over our heads. What do you think?”

  Without waiting for Natalie to answer, Van tossed the book onto the counter then slipped her arm under Natalie’s legs and headed to the back of the house.

  Natalie laughed and tried to pull her shirt back over her naked thighs. “Stop it; I’m not wearing any panties.”

  Van chuckled. “Even better.”

  *

  Van came out of the bathroom and felt a wave of tenderness at the sight of Natalie lying sprawled across the top of the bed mumbling into the sheets. “What’s that, sweetheart? I didn’t hear you.” She leaned closer and Natalie sprang, catching her by surprise, and pinned her to the bed.

  “Water,” Natalie said. “Need water.” She fell back on her side.

  Van went to the kitchen to get her some and when she returned she found Natalie fast asleep. She drew the sheet over her and decided to make them something to eat.

  At the doorway she turned for one more look. Natalie took her breath away. Stole it, just like that. Van teetered on the razor edge of panic. What if she lost her? Logic told her it was an old fear, but her heart still cried in the shadows of her grief over those she had loved in the past and lost.

  She pulled the bacon from the refrigerator and glanced at the clock. Well, not breakfast time, so she’d make a late brunch. While the bacon was frying she thumbed through Sarah’s diary. Van couldn’t imagine living in those times. She couldn’t understand it at all.

  Something kept nagging at her conscious, but every time she tried to focus on the thought and figure out what it was trying to tell her, it slipped away again.

  “Smells good in here.”

  Van hadn’t heard her get up. Natalie crossed the room to her looking very young with her hair pulled into a high ponytail and wearing Van’s T-shirt again. Natalie’s nipples showed through the thin material and Van reached for her.

  Natalie laughed and danced away. “Uh, huh, you have to feed me before ravishing the body again.”

  Van smiled. “Ravishing?”

  “Don’t you read romance novels? Never mind. How come all women aren’t lesbians?”

  Van nearly choked on her coffee and raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean, I know I’ve asked before, but is making love always like this? I feel kinda ripped off for all the years I’ve wasted. I think at one point this morning, I forgot how to breathe.”

  Van thought of the empty sex she’d been accustomed to. “I think that when it’s just physical, it doesn’t touch your soul. It’s like our spirits recognized each other, and making love is our soul’s way of rejoicing.” Van shut her mouth. Where the hell had that come from? She’d never spoken so esoterically in her life.

  Natalie put her fork on her plate. “That is, without a doubt, the most wonderful thing that anyone has ever said to me.”

  The phone rang, making them both jump.

  “Don’t answer it.” Natalie stared at the ringing phone like it was a coiled rattlesnake.

  “It might be my dad.” Van reached for the receiver. “Hello?”

  Nothing.

  “Hello?” Van strained to hear who was on the other end. She wasn’t sure, but it sounded like someone was screaming in the background far, far away. Her heart began to accelerate. “Freak.”

  A male voice broke through the static, low and guttural. “Bitch.”

  “What did you just say?” She was ready to disconnect when the voice on the other end bellowed so loud she had to hold the receiver from her ear.

  “Stop fucking my wife.”

  “Who is this?” Van felt as if someone had just thrown ice water in her face.

  Silence.

  “Hello?” The phone went dead. “Asshole,” Van said and clicked the off button. She looked up and saw the look of absolute horror on Natalie’s face. “Nat? It’s okay, honey. I’m right here.”

  “Did he say what I thought he said? Did he say ‘stop effing’ my wife? Did I hear that right? Tell me he didn’t say that.”

  Van didn’t answer. She had absolutely no idea what she could say to make it better. This situation was so beyond her scope of reality, she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. She was so high on this new relationship she hadn’t really dissected what had happened in Natalie’s house, let alone the fact that the dark man was calling her, and at her home instead of Natalie’s. She tried to be reasonable. “Nat? Do you think that could have been Jason?”

  “Who?” A quizzical look crossed her face. “My ex-husband? Oh yeah, him. No, that wouldn’t have been Jason. There is nothing confrontational about him whatsoever. Besides, how would he have gotten your phone number? He’s married to someone else now, remember? This is so…so…I don’t have any words to explain it other than unbelievably unreal. I don’t know how much more of this that I can handle, Van. I really, really don’t.”

  Natalie disappeared into the hallway. Van followed her to the bedroom and heard the water turn on in the shower. She looked helplessly around the room and at the door closed between them. Screw that. She opened the bathroom door and looked in. Natalie was curled in a ball on the tiles in the shower, sobbing quietly, her shoulders shaking and her arms wrapped tight around her stomach. The sight of it broke Van’s heart and she climbed in to hold her, clothes and all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I have to go home, Van,” Natalie said. “I have work too.”

  “Can’t you paint here?”

  Natalie saw the concern in Van’s expression, and who could blame her after the way she’d fallen apart yesterday. She was still a little embarrassed. Natalie didn’t want to think of herself as emotionally needy, though she had appreciated the comfort.

  “Van,” she said gently. “I’ll be fine. The crew is going to be there, right?”

  “But—”

  Natalie kissed her. “H
ave a good day. Say hello to your father for me.” She left quickly before Van could continue the argument that started half an hour ago.

  She waved to Rick and smiled at the continued progress they were making. After a quick house inspection and finding nothing out of place, Natalie felt her shoulders relax a little. She went into her office to e-mail her mother since Richard appeared to be blocking their phone communication. Natalie gave her a quick rundown of the activity and told her of the bombshell Beth had dropped on her. The screen flickered.

  Oh no, you don’t, Natalie thought and hit send. She felt a burst of triumph over the small victory and brought her optimism with her to the second floor throwing her bedroom windows open to the spring air.

  And because that felt so good, she did the same thing in the guest rooms.

  No more darkness, she thought, automatically repeating the chant that usually accompanied the sage ritual. Only light and love were welcome here.

  “This is my house, Richard. I will love who I choose.” She paused and held her breath, almost waiting for a reaction. When there was none, her mood continued to rise.

  She changed and went to her studio. Damn, she’d forgotten her easel was broken. She ignored the hair rising on her neck and crossed to the closet, pulling the long chain that turned on the bare light bulb. She stepped in to get her old easel when she tripped over something and landed painfully on her knees. Natalie sat and swore while she rubbed them then noticed the loose floorboard.

  It was probably stupid to look under it, she told herself. Curiosity killed the cat. The old wives’ tale popped into her head and she remembered the next line. But satisfaction brought it back. This was Beth’s old studio when she was alive; maybe she had a diary hidden in here.

  Natalie pried the first board out then recalled Van’s father and his story about Richard locking himself up here. She felt cold chills run along her back and hesitated.

  She’d never know if she didn’t look. Natalie lifted the second board cautiously, leaning away from the hole in the floor, just in case. She laughed nervously. In case of what? In case Richard jumps out? The possibility sounded ridiculous, even to her.

  A glint of gold in the corner caught her eye and she reached in to pull it out. It was an old locket. She ran her finger over the delicate roses etched into the front of it. After a quick study, she found the tiny latch, opened it, and gasped when she found the human hair. Red and dark brown locks braided together in a strand small enough to fit inside the locket. Her fingers tingled and grew warm. It had to be Beth and Sarah’s hair. She carefully tucked it back inside.

  It was such a tragic love story, yet in spite of their circumstances, they had loved each other deeply. The locket was a symbol of that.

  Natalie returned the board and got her easel out. She still had that third painting to finish. She decided that the third would be the sketch she’d done of them on the chaise. It didn’t fit into her series, and it was different from her trademark solo women. But her life was different now and she wanted to give Sarah and Beth to each other, in today’s world, where they might have been able to love each other in peace.

  Tears threatened to blur her vision, but Natalie wiped her eyes and started to paint.

  *

  It was late afternoon before Van was able to break away from her father and the nursery. When she got to Natalie’s, the front door was unlocked and she went in. “Natalie?” She received no answer at all on the first floor. After searching the second floor, her anxiety increased until she reached the door to the turret studio. A small note card was taped to the outside. Do not disturb.

  How cute was that? Van thought before quietly climbing the stairs. Natalie stood at her easel, paint smeared on her face, and her eyes looked almost wild with her intense focus. Her hair was escaping the ponytail she wore and curled around her neck. Van could hear the whisper of the paintbrush as it flew from the tray to the canvas then back again. She noticed the open windows and the afternoon breeze had turned the room chilly. “Natalie?”

  “What?” Natalie shot her gaze to Van. The hard, impatient look in her eyes made Van take a step back.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I was worried when I didn’t hear from you today.”

  “Working here.” Natalie tilted her head to the side and stared back at the canvas.

  “I can see that.” Van smiled. “Can I look?”

  “No.”

  Really? Van thought, just like that? The finality of that one word stopped her in her tracks. Natalie continued to paint as if she weren’t in the room. Yet another slice to add to Natalie’s personality.

  “Van? Don’t take this personally, but I need for you to leave now. I’ll call you later.”

  Now, that one stung. Van had certainly never expected this scene on the way over. Well, Van knew a brush-off when she heard one. Don’t call me, I’ll call you. She’d said the same words to others plenty of times. “Fine. I’m leaving.”

  By the time she hit the front door she was seething. Van had only run over here to check on her and her fucked up house. This feeling of rejection wasn’t setting very well for her. As a matter of fact, Van was the one who did the backing off. Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?

  The anxiety she’d carried all day had completely transposed to anger on the drive home. See what happened when you stepped outside the boundaries and got too close to someone?

  She was in her driveway when Annette called.

  “Hey, stranger, where you been?”

  Naked Natalie smiled in her mind. “Around.”

  “Come out and play, Easton. The girls are wondering if someone snatched your fine ass up.”

  Van snorted. Snatched and tossed, she thought. “Miss Apples?”

  “Yep. We’ll be waiting.” Annette hung up.

  A beer and a friend sounded good right now. Just the things to get her mind off of Natalie and the emotional roller coaster Van had been on in the last few weeks. She knew there were plenty of women who would love her company. Caring about someone took too much energy.

  *

  Natalie’s eyes burned and her arm ached when she finally dropped her brush into the jar of turpentine. It was nearly two in the morning. A dull throb in her temples and the gnawing in her belly sent a reminder she hadn’t eaten since the previous night.

  She resisted the urge to inspect her work. She’d learned over the years that if she didn’t walk away from a painting at some point, she would never finish it. Instead, she went to her room and dropped into her bed fully dressed.

  *

  “I’ll take her home,” Candy offered.

  Van closed one eye and tried to focus. It didn’t do much good; there were still two of her. “S’okay,” she slurred. “I’m good.”

  Annette smiled at her and took her keys. “I got her,” she said and helped Van to her feet. “It’s been a long time since I had to pour you into bed, my friend.”

  Van gave her a sloppy kiss. “My buddy.”

  “Say good night. We’re out of here.” Annette steered her to the door of the tavern and nearly tumbled when Van spun around to wave at the stragglers behind her.

  “I can fasten the seat belt by myself.” Van batted her hands away and rolled down the window to let the cool breeze in. “God, I’m drunk.”

  “I knew that when you started line dancing.”

  “Now you’re lying to me. I don’t dance.”

  “Actually,” Annette said, “you were kind of cute out there shaking your booty.”

  Van groaned. “Shoot me.” She winced because now she could recall a spin that had her crashing into a table. She was pretty sure there would be bruises the next day. She asked herself if it was worth it. Her head was spinning and the whole purpose of going out and getting blitzed hadn’t worked. “Want to see Natalie. Take me up there.”

  “I don’t think she’d appreciate your charm right now, pal.” Annette patted her shoulder. “Sleep it off and call her tomorrow.”

&nbs
p; “Love her,” Van said. “But she threw me out.” Annette helped her into the bathroom and into bed. Van kept one foot on the floor.

  “Hurts.” Van rubbed her chest.

  “Your head is going to hurt like hell in the morning,” Annette said. “Do you remember the sculptress I used to date?”

  Van grunted.

  “Well, when she was working—creating as she called it. There could be an earthquake and it wouldn’t shake her focus. She threw a cutting tool at me one time.”

  “Want me to kick her ass?” Van started to rise.

  Annette laughed. “Old history, Van. My point is that artists can be temperamental and moody to us mere peasants.”

  “Natalie told me that once.” Van tried to open her eyes. “Here, in my bed.”

  Annette pulled the sheet over her. “See? As long as she doesn’t start throwing sharp objects, you’re good. I’m leaving now. Good night, buddy.”

  “G’night.” Van passed out.

  *

  Natalie was freezing. She’d forgotten to close the windows before she went to bed. Was it really noon? She tried to rub her eyes and found her hair stuck to her face in the paint she’d splattered. Her head was foggy when she stumbled into the shower and she stood under the massaging stream of water to loosen her sore muscles.

  She closed her eyes, and in her mind’s eye she could see the painting she created. Beth and Sarah on the chaise, full lips an inch apart, sharing that intimate breath the second before the kiss that would come. Their eyes were half lidded but full of passion that seemed to fly off the canvas. Beth’s hand cupped Sarah’s breast while Sarah’s lay on the curve of Beth’s hip. Their legs intertwined under white silk. Natalie had even painted the small gold locket nestled in the hollow of Beth’s throat. Now that she had immortalized their love, could they find peace?