The Longest Night Read online

  BY THE TIME Betty and I arrived at the dance, I was having second thoughts again. The afternoon had been so comfortable and cozy that by the time I had to get ready, I just wanted to stay home with a bowl of hot soup and an old movie.

  But Betty wasn’t hearing any of that. When I called to cancel, she threatened to come over and stuff me into the dress herself. So by the time she arrived I was ready, makeup on, dressed to the nines, hair braided into a beautiful chignon with a sprig of holly woven into it.

  “Oh my God, Marilee. You don’t know how beautiful you are.” She smiled. “Chris doesn’t stand a chance.”

  I laughed her off, but secretly, I hoped she was right.

  The community center where the dance was being held was jammed. Betty finally found a parking space close to the door and—slipping and sliding through the icy parking lot—we navigated our way into the cloakroom, then after leaving our wraps, into the hall.

  As we entered, we saw that the place was as packed as the parking lot. Both relieved and disappointed, I doubted that we’d run into Chris and his date. Part of me wanted to see what she looked like, but part of me really didn’t want to know if she was younger and prettier. Thanks to John’s behavior, I had learned to compare myself to every woman I saw, and always found myself lacking.

  Betty glanced around. “Do you see him anywhere?”

  “No, and I’m not looking. You wanted to come and dance, so let’s get something to eat and look around for somebody to dance with.” I wasn’t sure whether I was bluffing or not, but the music was catchy and I found myself tapping my foot in time to the beat.

  “Excuse me? Would you like to dance?”

  I turned to find myself staring up into the face of a very tall, very angular man. He had wavy hair, and although he was dressed in a nice pair of slacks and a suit jacket, I had the feeling this wasn’t his usual attire.

  “Excuse me again, I suppose I should introduce myself first. My name is Domingo Sanchez, and I live over on Westport Avenue. I would love to dance with you, beautiful lady, if you would say yes.” He gave a little flourish and bowed ever so slightly.

  I almost laughed, but realized he was absolutely serious. Betty gave me a little shove toward him. So I held out my hand and introduced myself as he led me onto the dance floor.

  “I’m Marilee. I’m new in town. I’ve never been to one of the dances here.” I wasn’t sure what to say.

  As he wrapped an arm around my waist and we segued into to an old-fashioned waltz, I was surprised by how smoothly he moved on the floor.

  “Were you…are you…a dancer? You dance very well.” I smiled, trying not to appear flirtatious.

  “In my younger days I did some professional dancing. Now, I only dance for fun. I’m a sculptor. I work with my hands rather than my feet now.”

  He might work with his hands, but his feet sure knew what to do. We whirled around the dance floor, and I realized that his skill was making me look good. I also realized that I was actually enjoying myself. I didn’t think Domingo and I had much in common, but he danced like a dream and I was enjoying the moment.

  “I’m a painter—” I started to say, but he hushed me and drew me closer. Right then, I realized that I was dancing with another version of John. I obligingly shut up, but right then, I knew that Domingo and I wouldn’t be making any other kind of music together.

  Betty was waiting for me at the refreshments table.

  “Well?” She nudged me with her elbow. “How was it?”

  I wrinkled my nose at her. “The dance was fine. But Domingo made it clear he prefers to do the talking.”

  Betty suddenly let out a little squeak as she stared over my shoulder. Frowning, I turned. There, two yards away, were Chris and his date. They were dancing, and I don’t think they had seen us yet. He looked handsome as ever, in dress casual. But she…she was a knockout.

  My heart sank. Tall, lanky and blonde, the girl couldn’t have been much over twenty-five years old. She was wearing a gold lamé dress with a split up the side so high you could almost see her hipbone. I let out a soft sigh. That was all I needed to know.

  “Well, I guess that’s it.” I glanced at Betty, shaking my head. “Nobody can compete against somebody who looks like that.”

  “Hold on. She’s pretty, yes, but do you really feel outclassed by her?”

  “You don’t understand. She looks so much like the women my ex cheated on me and left me for. John had a thing for tall, thin blondes. They’re the target trophy, don’t you know?”

  I knew I sounded bitter, but I was horribly disappointed. If she had looked more like me, or been less magazine-pretty…maybe I would have felt different. I turned away, wanting to move before he saw me. I didn’t think I could take being introduced to her.

  “Marilee! Marilee, wait!” Chris’s voice echoed behind me as I turned to leave.

  I froze, cursing my luck. I couldn’t very well walk away now. He knew I had seen him, and I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t. Forcing a smile to my face, I nodded as he drew near.

  “Why didn’t you say hello?” His smile was so infectious it hit me like a brick.

  I truly didn’t know what to say. I saw your girlfriend and felt so intimidated that I decided to ignore you? Or maybe, Since you obviously prefer that kind of woman, I’ll just get out of the way now. But I forced myself to continue smiling, though my cheeks hurt from the effort.

  “I’m sorry, I must not have noticed you. It’s awfully crowded in here.”

  “Well, come here, I want you to meet Celia.” He sounded so excited that my stomach lurched. Couldn’t he tell I just wanted to run and hide? But I let him drag me along, not wanting to make a scene in public. Old habits die hard.

  “I don’t want to interrupt you on your date. Please, I need to go. I hope you have a wonderful time tonight.” I was trying to be gracious, damn it. Why wouldn’t he let me go?

  Just then, Celia the golden girl strolled over, two cups of punch in her hands. She handed one to Chris, then turned to me, a wide smile on her face.

  “Celia, I want you to meet Marilee. Marilee’s new in town. Marilee, meet Celia—my cousin. She’s visiting me.”

  Cousin?

  The word reverberated through my system, setting off explosions of both relief and annoyance. Why hadn’t he told me that before? But then I realized I hadn’t given him the chance. I had gotten off the phone as quickly as I could.

  “Marilee? So you’re the famous Marilee? I’m glad to meet you. Chris has been talking about you a lot—don’t worry, all good.” Her voice was warm and rich, and as I stared up at her she smiled warmly.

  I struggled to regain my composure. Finally, I let out a slow breath, smiled—genuinely—and took her hand. “That’s funny, because he didn’t tell me you were his cousin.” I glanced at Chris.

  “That’s because you didn’t give me the opportunity. You hung up so suddenly during our phone call, I didn’t have the chance.” But he didn’t look annoyed, just amused.

  “I…I was busy. I had a lot of snow to shovel.”

  After that, the evening perked up. Celia moved on to dance with other men, as Chris took me in his arms. We were dancing a slow dance, and he pulled me tight against him.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about you,” he whispered. “I enjoyed our first two dates so much. I was hoping you’d show up tonight. I knew what you were thinking, and I wanted a chance to correct our misunderstanding. I was going to call, but I thought you might be mad at me.”

  I suddenly wanted to be alone with him. “Do you really need to stay here? I mean, will Celia be okay without you?”

  He glanced over to where Celia was entertaining a group of men, Domingo included. “You know, I think she can probably find her own way back to her hotel. She met me here, so she has her car. Why don’t you let me ask her, and if she’s okay with it, we’ll get out of here.”

  I found Betty and told her what happened. She just g
ave me a thumbs-up and promised to make sure Celia got back to her hotel. I waited anxiously in the cloakroom until Chris showed up, and we gathered our coats and headed out.

  Chapter 6

  WE REACHED THE parking lot and walked toward his truck. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but I knew I needed to talk to him. Once we were inside, Chris turned to me.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “I don’t know. I just…I just want to talk.” I didn’t feel comfortable asking him back to my house, because I didn’t want to give him the impression that I only wanted to sleep with him, although the thought had crossed my mind. But I didn’t know my way around town enough to pick a destination.

  “I know where to go, if you’ll trust me. There’s a place I like to go when I need to be alone to think. I’d like to show it to you.” He gave me a long look, the crystal-blue of his eyes boring into me like twin frozen lakes.

  “Lead the way. I trust you.”

  He eased out of the parking lot. I was grateful to see that he was a careful driver. The roads were treacherous and the last thing I wanted was to find ourselves on the wrong side of an accident.

  We wound toward the edge of town, away from the freeway, and then, taking the access road, we headed deeper into the mountains. The fog and mist were swirling, and even though it wasn’t snowing, it felt almost as though the sky had come down to touch the earth. The clouds were low, with a silver tinge to them. More snow was on the way.

  In Seattle, we seldom got snow—oh, every once in a while we got a good hit, but it wasn’t a regular occurrence. But Starwood was high in the mountains, and the Cascades got hit by massive snowstorms. Every now and then they had to close Snoqualmie Pass for avalanche control, and the sides of the road were piled high with snow and ice plowed off of the freeway.

  “Where are we going?”

  “There’s a cabin not far from town that my uncle owns. He gave me a key and I keep the place tidy when he’s not here. He mostly comes up in the summer, and during hunting season. I thought we could go there. It’s quiet and cozy and not far from the main road, so we should be okay.”

  “My ex and I had a vacation home, but he preferred Mexico over the mountains. I’m not much of a sun bunny, and I burn easily. I do love the ocean, though.”

  “Summer or winter, as long as I’ve got access to the outdoors, I love all the seasons. But if you pressed me, I’d have to say my favorite season is spring, when everything’s coming up fresh and new. I love to garden.” He shot a sideways glance at me. “It seems—and forgive me if I’m making an assumption—that your ex made most of the decisions.”

  “At first, no. But yeah, he grew more imperious. And after a while, the arguing gets old and it just seems easier to acquiesce. If it was something terribly important I stood my ground…” I paused, realizing that wasn’t entirely true. “No. To be honest, I gave in on everything that was ever important to me. I can’t do that again, not for anybody.”

  “You shouldn’t have to. If it’s a good relationship, both partners can be who they need to be. If one person has to change drastically for the relationship to work, then the couple shouldn’t be together. I had a couple ex-girlfriends who were very good at trying to make me over in their own image. It really didn’t go over well with me.”

  We were about fifteen minutes out of town now, and he turned right onto a small dirt road. As we wound through a narrow channel lined with trees on both sides, my stomach fluttered. I still didn’t know him that well. But a small voice inside whispered, Be calm. He is who he says he is. Trust your instincts.

  A few minutes later, we turned at a bend in the road and a gorgeous snow-covered cabin came into view. Floodlights illuminated the yard, which was absolutely engulfed in a blanket of white. But the driveway had recently been plowed—it had to have been after last night’s storm, I thought—and the cabin exuded a feeling of warmth and safety. I relaxed as we came to a stop in the drive near the door.

  “I’d love to see this place during the day.” I could only imagine the swath of trees covered in snow. “Is anybody here? I noticed the lights.”

  “Motion-sensored. Must have been some animal passing by. If you really like it, I think we can arrange a day-time trip.” Chris jumped out of the cab, shutting his door and coming around to my side. He opened my door and helped me down. But before I could take a step, he put his hand on my arm. “Hold on. I just noticed what shoes you’re wearing. Those are beautiful, but you’re not walking in the snow with those. Here, raise your arms.”

  Before I could say a word he swept me up in his arms. I worried that I’d be too heavy, but he didn’t seem to have any trouble carrying me along the path up to the porch. He let me down so that I was standing on the top step, away from the ice and snow.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” I said with a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve had anybody be so chivalrous in all my life.”

  “Well, maybe you should get used to it.” A smile flickered across his lips.

  He escorted me to the front door, unlocked it, and then stood back. I entered. He reached in to flip on the light switch, then moved in behind me.

  The cabin was absolutely beautiful. The walls were a warm oak, the floors a slightly darker shade of hardwood. The wood was polished to a high sheen, and the soft light from the crystal chandelier gave the entire space an inviting warmth. We entered the living room—home to a small, cozy seating area. A braided rug covered the floor, and a microsuede sofa and recliner faced a big-screen TV hanging on the wall over the fireplace.

  To the right, the living room opened into an eat-in kitchen with quartz countertops and cupboards the same color as the walls. A table with four chairs sat next to a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the side yard. Long velvet drapes hung to either side. What looked like a powder room was off to the left, beneath a staircase. Against the back of the kitchen wall were two doors.

  “Oh, this is beautiful. How often does your uncle come up here?” I would be perfectly happy to live in a cabin like this.

  “He usually makes it up for about a month during the summer. The rest of the time, I take care of it, and when I need to get away from my apartment, I come here for a few hours. The cabin backs onto the forest, and there are a number of trails back there. One of them meets up with the Snow Lake trail. I like to go hiking.”

  I smiled. “I used to go hiking when I was younger. After a while, John lost interest in it and it wasn’t any fun to go by myself. He lost interest in so many of the things we once had in common.” I wandered over to the kitchen and pulled out one of the barstools at the counter, sliding onto it and resting my feet on the rung. “So, last time we talked, you hinted that you’re Pagan too?”

  “Yes. I don’t know if I think of it in those terms, but the truth is, I am. My spirituality feels contradictory in some ways. I’ve always felt rooted in the natural world, but I’m also a techno-pagan. I love the magic of electricity and thought, and there is magic there. I do celebrate the Wheel of the Year, though. All of the eight major Sabbats. My mother—in fact, my whole family—is descended from a Fam-Trad of witches.”

  I nodded. Fam-Trads were families with strong magical lineages. While my own mother was psychic, and had taught me from the time I was little, I didn’t know a great deal about the rest of my heritage. My father had abandoned my mother and me when I was four, and my grandparents on my mother’s side still lived in Scotland. I had met them once or twice, but we had never had the money to go visit. John had never been interested in meeting them. Well, that wasn’t quite true. He had been interested up until he got his real estate license and began his new life.

  “I’ve always been psychically gifted, but when I was fifteen a friend brought me into the Craft and taught me to celebrate the holidays,” I said. “It felt so natural for me. I was terrified when I told my mother what I was doing, but she actually had no problem with it. In fact, she started studying too. I wish she could come out and vi
sit.”

  “Where does she live?” Chris leaned against the counter next to me.

  “She lives in Salem, Massachusetts. She runs a little fortune-telling shop there. I came out west for college. That’s when I met my ex. I go back occasionally, but the past few years have been so convoluted that I haven’t had a chance to visit. I should send her an airplane ticket to come out here for the holidays. There’s still time to bring her out for Winter Solstice—for Yule.” I was suddenly nostalgic, desperately wanting to see my mother. I had taken to calling her once a week now that I was free from John.

  “Why don’t you do that? It sounds like you miss her.” He reached out and took my hand in his. “I have a question for you. I want you to think about your answer seriously.”

  I frowned but nodded.

  “Do you believe that certain people are fated to meet? Or do you think it’s all coincidence?”

  I started to speak, then stopped. He really wanted me to think about my answer. I dropped his hand and walked over to the window, staring out at the snow piled against the side of the house. It had reached the top of the wraparound porch and spilled over. I realized that the floor-to-ceiling window was actually a pair of French doors, and I opened them, stepping out into the chill evening air. I swept snow off the railing and leaned against it as the flurries swirled around me. Chris joined me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

  Did I believe in fate? Did I believe in anything beyond coincidence? Twenty years ago, I would have said yes. But now, did I truly still believe that destiny played a part in our lives?

  “There were times with John when I felt like I was the butt of a universal joke. Now? I’m not so sure. I used to believe in destiny and fate, but somewhere along the line, after all his lying and cheating and disparaging… My belief was tested to the core.”

  My breath froze in little puffs as I mulled over the topic.