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  Chapter Two

  “Bit on the ass. Unbelievable. You’ll probably catch rabies someday from one of the snot-nosed beasts in that kennel you call a classroom.” Scarlett perched oversized sunglasses on top of her head like a tiara.

  Darcy stepped through the door, and onto the front porch, the joy of seeing her sister already warring against feelings of inadequacy. “Good morning, sis. Nice to see you, too. By the way, those kids mean the world to me. I told you on the phone, it was an accident.”

  “Forgive me, Dar, you know I’m positively tactless. It’s a birth defect.” Scarlett ignored Darcy’s outstretched arms, taking her instead by the shoulders and kissing her cheeks. “Tell me, while we’re here in the sunlight, is my Botox diminishing? Do you see a wrinkle?” She ran a garnet-tipped finger down her forehead.

  Darcy wondered what would possess her sister, at twenty-nine, to undergo so many cosmetic alterations. Then again, Scarlett was a fighter, and age was an enemy. She wasn’t about to let it get the upper hand. Darcy squinted at Scarlett’s brow, stepping closer.

  “Never mind. I’m sure it’s holding up fine.” She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her designer bag and shook one out, then rummaged for her lighter. “There you are,” she said, flicking the black disposable. She lit the cigarette and dragged deep, tipping her head back to exhale.

  Darcy coughed, the smoke Scarlett blew above her head somehow finding its way to her lungs.

  “Nasty cough. Did the biter have a cold?” Scarlett backed up her stilettos, teetering on the very edge of the porch.

  “It’s the smoke.” Darcy fanned her face.

  “Oh, good. I thought you might be contagious.” Scarlett turned her platinum-streaked head toward the lake. “I need coffee.” She crushed the filter beneath her pointed toe before kicking it into Darcy’s begonia blossoms, then brushed past her sister, clicking through the house to the kitchen. “It’s quite...sunny, isn’t it?” she asked, sweeping the yellow walls with her gaze.

  “That’s why I like it.” Darcy shrugged, handing her a mug of coffee. “Still take it black?”

  “Black and kicking.” Scarlett opened and closed Darcy’s cabinets, searching. “Should’ve guessed. Bone dry.” She sifted through her bag on the countertop and pulled out a small silver flask. “Ah, no worries.” She spun the lid with her thumb and emptied the amber liquid into her mug. After a few cooling blows, she took a sip. “Mmmm...heaven.”

  Darcy poured herself a cup, whitened it with cream, and stirred. “It’s only seven-thirty in the morning, maybe you should pace yourself.”

  Scarlett tossed her head and laughed. “God, you sound just like me.”

  Darcy frowned, raising an eyebrow.

  Scarlett perched on a blue barstool. “I mean your voice. Sounds like you’ve been smoking.”

  Darcy’s frown deepened. “Secondhand.” She cleared her throat.

  “You should go with it. Throaty little schoolteachers are sexy.” Scarlett leaned onto her fist and arched her brows.

  Darcy’s cheeks warmed. “Anyway... I’ve only seen you once since Dad and Mom moved to Florida.” She scooted a stool from the bar and cautiously sat. “What have you been up to for the past…three years?”

  “Don’t be absurd. You know it’s not like that. We’ve texted and chatted on the computer plenty of times. I even sent you a link to my blog.” She took a long sip of coffee.

  “True, but that’s hardly the same as seeing you in person. I tried once to visit you at Renewals, but they wouldn’t let me in. I ended up flying back home.”

  Scarlett held up a hand. “Don’t mention that dreadful place.”

  “I’m sorry. It really is good to see you, sis.”

  Scarlett raised her chin. “It’s damn good to see you too, Dar.” Her breath, laden with booze, coffee and cigarettes, transcended the gap between them. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” Her heels clicked on the tile, and she steadied herself against the countertop. “I’m going to the Benz to get my things.”

  ****

  Liz stepped into Darcy’s classroom. “Glad to see you and your booty are back with us.”

  “You and me both.” Darcy rolled her chair from the desk and stood.

  “How’s it going with your evil twin—um, I mean twin, in town?”

  Darcy’s blood heated. “Liz, enough. I told you, she’s had a rough life. Give her a chance.”

  Liz shrugged. “I just don’t want you getting hurt by her. I don’t trust her.”

  “You don’t know her.”

  Liz let her gaze rest on Darcy. “Neither do you.”

  “Is that why you stopped by? To warn me about my own sister?”

  “Not entirely. I have a favor to ask.”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve maiming or murdering Scarlett, the answer is likely yes.” Darcy grinned.

  “Well, I kind of invited someone to the lake, and sort of told him we could use your boat dock this coming Saturday.” Liz cringed. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.” Darcy cocked her head. “Who is he?”

  “Great!” Liz released a long breath. “His name is Richard Bradshaw. He’s a physician’s assistant, and he has a doctor-friend with a boat. The friend offered to drive Richard and the boat to the lake, then pick them both up later.”

  “Generous friend.”

  “I know, right? Richard said the guy works most of the time, and doesn’t utilize the boat much. Apparently he moved to Verden in April to take over his father’s practice. He fills in at the Clinic in Chickasha sometimes, that’s how Richard met him.”

  Darcy’s stomach quivered like an elevator between floors. “Sure, it’s completely fine for you and Richard to use the boat dock. I’ll bring the shed key so you can get to the barbeque grill and other supplies.” She struggled to appear only minimally interested.

  Liz knit her brows. “What’s that look for?” Her face fell. “Oh-no, you know something about Richard, don’t you? Oh, please don’t tell me he’s married.”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know.” She paused. “I don’t know Richard. But I think I know his friend.”

  “The doctor? I didn’t even tell you his name.”

  The first bell rang. Excited stomps and yells filled the hallway.

  “I’ll bring the key tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. See you at lunch.” Liz weaved through Darcy’s arriving students on her way out.

  ****

  “Yoo-hoo!” Scarlett waved to Darcy from the neighboring porch.

  Darcy waved back through her open car door before sliding out.

  Scarlett swept an arm through the air. “It’s official. We’re neighbors.”

  Darcy walked up the front steps of Bessie Roberts’s A-frame cottage. “You’re moving in here? You do remember me telling you Bessie died here a few days ago, right?”

  Scarlett shrugged. “So, that makes it available.”

  Darcy’s mouth tightened at her sister’s callousness. “How can you say such a thing? Show some respect.”

  Scarlett’s features softened. “You’re right. Bad word choice.” Her eyes glistened. “I remember Bessie from when we were kids. I truly am sorry she passed, but I do need a place to stay…and her family wanted the house occupied. So here I am, just trying to make the best of a sad situation.”

  Darcy nodded, relieved to see her sister had some compassion. “I’m glad you’re moving in.”

  “Me too. And maybe being neighbors will satisfy that absurd, twinly urge I have to be near you.” Scarlett lit a cigarette. “Grab a load of stuff and come inside.” She motioned to the high-end shopping bags lining the porch.

  Darcy threaded bags onto her fingers and stepped into the entryway. “I’ve always thought it was lovely.”

  “It’ll do. Of course, redecoration is a given. I’ll need to call Charles right away for referrals in this area.” Scarlett flicked her ashes onto the wood flooring. “And I’m in dire need of a good cleaning woman. The place i
s filthy.”

  “Not filthy, just…lived in.” Darcy stepped around the ashes, through the dining room, and into the kitchen she’d always admired, with its natural wood cabinets and mosaic tile countertops. “The kitchen is charming.” She smiled sadly, remembering long chats with Bessie across her oak table, eating homemade snicker doodle cookies and drinking tea.

  Scarlett rolled her eyes. “So, my sweet sister, the rest of my belongings will arrive by truck tomorrow. Thankfully, I will be out of your hair and your spare bedroom.”

  “You can stay as long as you need to. It’ll take a while to get your things situated.”

  “Thank you, but tonight will be our last slumber-party.”

  Darcy pulled her vibrating phone from the front pocket of her jeans and opened a text from Liz.

  “Richard’s friend is Dr. Cabin Creighton.”

  Although she’d already known, her heart fluttered, and she fumbled the phone, dropping it onto the kitchen tile.

  Scarlett swooped it smoothly from the floor and read the text. “My-oh-my. ‘Dr. Cabin Creighton’ certainly has turned your fingers to butter,” she cooed.

  “Do you mind?” Darcy opened her palm to Scarlett. “Personal medical business.” Her words came out breathy and weak, just like when she faced off with Scarlett as a child. She stared at the phone, her ears and cheeks warming.

  “Nonsense.” Scarlett tossed the phone, causing Darcy to fumble it a second time. “My eyes also turn garishly green when I’m hot and bothered. Or so I’ve been told.”

  Darcy stuffed the phone into her pocket. “I’m going home to start dinner,” she growled, her stomps echoing through the unfurnished house. She slammed the door, then walked through Scarlett’s yard to her own. She clomped up the steps and banged through the front door, feeling like both a teased child and an excited teenager. She scolded herself for becoming a humiliated eight-year-old around her sister, and for turning into a jelly filled sixteen-year-old at the mention of the doctor’s name.

  Scarlett still possessed the unnerving ability, and desire, to expose her weakness. She rummaged through the refrigerator and cabinets, recklessly tossing ingredients onto the countertop as she fumed.

  When they were little girls, her sister had been relentless. At times, downright wicked. Darcy found Scarlett’s calm, unflappable approach to evildoing more dangerous than the evil deeds themselves. It seemed as if curiosity, not anger, compelled her to sin.

  Once, as a young girl, Scarlett whispered Darcy’s name through the keyhole of her bedroom door. Darcy knocked and twisted the knob. Finding it locked, she’d dropped to her knees, peering through the keyhole into the shadowy room. Puzzled, she’d raised her head—just as a straightened coat hanger plunged through the opening, nicking her cheek.

  She now pictured what childhood horrors might have befallen her, had Scarlett hit her mark. Images of trudging uphill through adolescence, not only as the homely twin, but as the homely, one-eyed twin, filled her head.

  “…There were these cute blonde twins, one in a bikini, and one with an eye patch…” Cabin Creighton’s voice invaded her mind. Her lips twitched at the absurdity of the thought.

  Of course, Scarlett’s depravity wasn’t reserved for Darcy alone. As a teenager, Darcy had frantically jumped into the lake and rescued a drowning three-year-old boy while Scarlett, a trained lifeguard, watched with curious eyes from the perch of her elevated chair.

  Darcy bowed her head as she recalled the little boy’s pale face and panicked eyes. She should have told. By not telling, she deprived her sister of help she desperately needed. Tears stung her eyes as she crushed crackers into ground beef and pummeled the mixture with her fist, then plopped it into a loaf pan.

  A woman’s scream rent the air, sending Darcy flying from the kitchen, her fingers dripping a trail of tomato sauce. Scarlett. Heart sinking into her stomach, Darcy headed next door in a dead run.

  The front door stood open, and Darcy plunged inside, wiping her hands on her jeans as she ran. Frantically, she flew through the dining room and into the kitchen, where she found Scarlett huddled on the floor next to the open back door.

  Dropping to her knees next to her sister, Darcy tugged Scarlett’s hands away from her face. “What is it? What happened?”

  Scarlett stared up at her, luminous green eyes reflecting stark terror. “He was here,” she choked out. “Oh, God. He’s found me.”

  “Who was here? Who found you?”

  Tugging her hands away from Darcy’s, Scarlett rose shakily to her feet and pushed the door closed. Her hair was a jumbled mess, make-up streaked, face blotchy from tears. Never in her life had Darcy seen her sister looking anything less than perfect.

  “Malcolm.” A visible shudder ran over her slender frame. “My ex-boyfriend. He’s crazy—an absolute psycho. I thought I could escape him, but I guess I never will.”

  “What did he do to you?” A protective sensation puffed Darcy’s chest. “We need to call the police.”

  Scarlett shook her head. “He grabbed my hair and made his usual threats, but didn’t actually hurt me. When I screamed, he took off. The police won’t do anything.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I should have known he was around, although how he knew I was moving in here, I have no idea.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She opened her clenched fist, displaying a silver skull earring in the center of her hand. “This is his. I found it when I was cleaning up in here. I told myself I was mistaken, that it had to be some kind of coincidence. But when he showed up, I knew.”

  Darcy shuddered. “He was staking out the house before you moved in? Already? But, how…”

  Scarlett shrugged. “He has ways.”

  “Maybe you should stay with me instead of living here alone. No telling what he’ll do.”

  “No.” Scarlett’s voice sounded like someone who’d been handed a life sentence. “Doesn’t matter. Nothing will help. I’ll never be free of him.”

  Chapter Three

  “Come to Chickasha Lake with me Saturday,” Richard said, returning a clipboard to its slot.

  “That’s kind of a given, since I’m driving you—and my boat—with my truck.” Cabin removed his lab coat and folded it neatly over his arm.

  “No, I mean, stay at the lake with Liz and I. Spend the whole day.”

  Cabin studied Richard’s face. “You want me to spend the day with you and your ‘hot lake-date.’” He raised an eyebrow. “What’s your angle?”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll fess up. It’s just...I know how much you hate matchmaking.”

  “Oh-no. I know where this is headed. Last time you fixed me up I had to change my cell number.” He stopped walking. “I have plans Saturday. You’re on your own. Or...maybe not. Looks like you might end up with two dates

  “Sorry, man, it’s just that Liz is borrowing a boat dock from her teacher-friend, the one you mentioned...Darla...Darlene?” He shook his head. “Anyway, we just thought it would be fun, if—”

  “Darcy?” Cabin’s gut clenched. He hadn’t been able to get her name, or face, out of his mind since her office visit last week.

  “Darcy! Yeah, that’s it.” Richard held the door for Cabin as they stepped into the afternoon sunshine.

  “I’ll come.” He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant as bells clanged in his head like a winning slot machine.

  “Cool.” Richard grinned, walking backward through the parking lot, facing Cabin. “See you Saturday. Bright and early.”

  “Later.” Cabin disarmed his red extended-cab and climbed in. He backed from the yellow lines, a grin emerging. His pulse quickened. Sliding a hand down his face, he wiped off the grin, sobering his mind. With his thirty-fourth birthday six months behind him, behaving as if he were eighteen was just plain sad.

  Across the street from the nursing home, a couple laughed and ran in the park, trying to sail a kite on the breeze. He coasted into a parking space at Redbud Living Center and watched them a while, his smile returning.
<
br />   “Good evening, Dr. Creighton.” The receptionist slid the sign-in sheet over the countertop. “Estelle is in good spirits today.”

  Cabin signed and dated the form. “That’s nice to hear, Geraldine. I’ll try not to spoil her good mood.” He winked and crossed the lobby, greeting residents and orderlies.

  “Knock-knock,” he called, tapping on Estelle’s open door.

  “Come in, Cabin.” She smiled thinly.

  He closed the door, then kissed her forehead. “How are you, Estelle?” He searched her black eyes... Samantha’s eyes.

  “Can’t complain.” She shrugged her gaunt shoulders. “I didn’t cry today.”

  Cabin gave a slow nod, his throat catching as he lowered into the bedside chair. “That’s wonderful. I’m so glad to hear it.” He took her hand gently in his. She appeared to have grown frailer over the past few days. “Samantha would be proud of you.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Would she?” Her chin trembled. “Maybe she would be saddened... Maybe she would think I’d forgotten them.” A tear wet her papery cheek.

  “Never.” He pulled a tissue from the box at her bedside. “She knew how much you loved her.”

  “Do you still cry for her?” she asked.

  He lowered his eyes to her knuckles. “I have good days and bad days.” With a pang of guilt, he noted how the time between his cries was lengthening. Thoughts of Samantha crossed his mind every day, but it had been weeks since he’d shed a tear for her.

  “More good than bad?” she demanded, her lips stiffening as she raised her chin.

  Cabin took a deep breath, held it, released it slowly. “I loved your daughter very much. It almost killed me when she...passed.” He gingerly massaged the old woman’s hand. “Estelle. It’s been five years.”

  She glared. “Can I wrap the passage of time around my heart like a bandage?” She pulled her hand from his.

  “No, I didn’t mean—”

  Her nostrils flared. “I wasn’t aware there was a prescribed time of mourning for a child and grandchild. What about you, Cabin? Is five years ample time to grieve your dead wife, your dead child? Is there another woman? Have you replaced my Samantha?”