Legend of the Jade Dragon Page 5

  I looked around, searching for Harlow. As usual, she was perpetually early. She’d edged her wheelchair up to the table and had already ordered lemonade for us. I gave her a quick hug and slid into the opposite seat. “You are so gorgeous,” I said. And she was: rounded and healthy, with no sign of the anorexia that plagued her for so long. Her long, crimped golden hair had been woven into cornrows—much easier for her to take care of. “You look like a pregnant Bo Derek in her younger days. Only your hair is shinier.”

  She chuckled. “Thanks, chickie.” Her eyes flickered over my skirt and top. “Speaking of looks, that’s certainly a different style for you. Trying something new?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve been feeling all topsy-turvy lately. Thought maybe this would give my spirits a lift, but I’m not so sure. I think I just look goofy.”

  She ran her eyes over me, appraising my outfit. If I looked silly, I could count on her to be brutally honest. “Actually, you look ravishing. The ivory sets off the highlights in your hair; it makes the chocolate deeper and the silver sparkle. And the skirt is gorgeous.” I beamed. Harlow always knew what to say. She lifted her glass and toasted me. “To the new Emerald. I’d love to see you look like this more often. I bet Andrew loves it.”

  I reluctantly lifted my glass and took a sip. “Andrew…” I sighed. “Now there’s a touchy subject.” If I smoked, I’d be toying with a cigarette by now, but my vice was a little less dangerous; I tore open a packet of sugar and poured it on my tongue.

  Harlow winced as she leaned back in her seat and shook her head. “Stop that. It’s not good for you.”

  “Yeah it is. Sugar gives you energy, so why not go one hundred percent pure?”

  She clucked and reached across the table to grab the packet out of my hand. “You still haven’t told me what’s wrong, and don’t lie and say ‘Nothing,’ because I know perfectly well that you’re upset.”

  “I know you think I’m making a mistake; that I should just forget about Joe and dive into the relationship with Andrew.”

  “So why don’t you?” Her voice was soft. She’d been responsible for my meeting Andrew, and he was her husband’s best friend. I could understand why she felt torn.

  I tried to explain. “I adore him, but let’s face it, no way is he mature enough to handle two kids and a wife who talks to ghosts. In fact, last week we were talking about our hopes for the future—not for us as a couple, mind you, just individual goals. He came out and told me he doesn’t believe in marriage. I can’t see myself in a long-term relationship without marriage, Harl. And when the sparks aren’t flying, we don’t have a lot in common. We talk a little, and then we argue.”

  The waitress interrupted to take our order. “My name’s Alicia, ladies, and I’ll be your waitress tonight. My, don’t y’all look pretty.” She gave Harl a wink and me a smile and jotted down my request for fish and chips and Harlow’s order for soup, then stuck her pencil behind her ear and took off toward the kitchen.

  “Can we talk about something else?” I pleaded. “How’s it going for James?”

  “He’s in the Shewa area. Local rebels have shut down the one runway they call an airport, and he and the crew are stuck until the plane can get through to them. Ethiopia’s a powder keg, with all the deaths from famine and the problems with the government.” She leaned toward me, and I could see the fear in her eyes. “James heard shots outside the compound; he thinks that there may have been executions. I’m hoping to hell he’s okay. It doesn’t take much to spark off a war over there.”

  I decided she didn’t need me reinforcing her worries over something she couldn’t control, so I brought the conversation back around to me. Harl loved gossip, and I gave her the full treatment. I told her everything about Daniel’s visit and subsequent death, about Miranda’s telescope, and Kip losing his best friend. “The last thing I need is a string of bad luck. But it’ll pass. Nanna taught me that everything comes in cycles, and life’s been so good lately that I’m not surprised the universe is throwing a few curves my way. I just hope the curves don’t explode into crises.” I shifted in my seat, vaguely aware of a growing sensation that I was being watched. I leaned forward and whispered. “Is there somebody staring at me?”

  Harlow glanced over my shoulder, then gave me a gentle nod. “Yep, big guy. Uh-oh, red alert, he’s coming your way, and either he’s drunk or has an ear infection that’s throwing him off balance, because he’s bouncing off the walls.” She busied herself, poking in her handbag for her compact.

  I steeled myself as a shadow fell across the table. Slowly, I raised my eyes. He was big, all right. Actually, this dude had it all over Paul Bunyan. Dark, flashing eyes, long beard, graying ponytail, black leather chaps and jacket. Oh yeah, we were talking Mr. Bad Biker in the flesh.

  “Yes?” Leaving all traces of warmth out of my voice, I forced myself to stare him down. Never show fear in the presence of wild beasts, children, or lumberjacks.

  He leaned over, trying to look down my shirt. “Guy at the end of the bar bet me five bucks that I wouldn’t have the guts to come over and ask you to dance.”

  Oh, joy. Besides the fact that the jukebox was belting out some country schlock about “my man done did me wrong” that was about as danceable as quicksand, there was no dance floor in this joint. I wondered if he’d figured that out yet. “Uh, no. Thank you for asking.”

  “C’mon, shake a leg with ol’ Jimbo. I don’t bite.” He leered at me, and I leaned back to avoid the alcohol that exuded from his breath. I could have lit a match and watched the whole place go up in flames. “Leastways, not unless you want me to.” He flicked the ribbons on my top and made a move toward the bow.

  That did it. I slapped his hand. “Go away. Now.”

  Harlow stifled a snort. “I’ve got your back, babe,” was all she said.

  At that moment, good ol’ Jimbo made an error in judgment. He reached out and clapped his meaty paw on my wrist. Big mistake.

  “Take your hand off me while it’s still attached to your arm,” I said, my voice a low growl.

  Jimbo yanked my chair around so I was facing him. “C’mon, woman. I want to dance.”

  The waitress was running in our direction with the manager in tow, but I was quicker. Jimbo hauled me out of the chair, and I let myself go limp. When he struggled for a better grip, I snapped my arm out of his grasp and belted him in the nose, then leaned over and head-butted him right in the gut. Like tall timber being felled, he teetered for a moment, then crashed into a tray rack, sending the rack and its contents every which way. I blinked, realizing what I’d just done. Wow! I’d never been in a bar brawl before.

  Jimbo rubbed his head, struggling to right himself through the patchwork of trays and napkins that covered the floor like a crazy quilt. “You bitch!”

  “What the hell are you doing, Jimbo?” the manager bellowed. “Get your butt out of here. I told you before, leave the ladies alone.” He yanked the big man to his feet while the waitress asked me if I was okay.

  Jimbo managed to escape the man’s grasp. His words slurred out of the side of his mouth. “Don’t think you can get away with this! Throw me out, will you? You better watch yourself, Roberts. I know where you live!” He tripped over one of the chairs at the next table and fell again. After he righted himself, he turned to me. “This is all your fault, you witch!”

  Incredulous, still in shock from what had just transpired, I started to hiccup and the next moment found myself howling like a moon-crazed wolf. I managed to get hold of myself and gave him a wide grin. “Kind of stupid to make a witch mad, now, isn’t it? Maybe I should turn you into a toad? Oh wait, you already are one!”

  “Don’t laugh at me! I mean it! I’ll show you who’s stupid—”

  The manager and his waiters managed to toss Jimbo out the door as we watched from our table. Harl shook her head. “Too bad, what a waste. All that gorgeous black leather, too.”

  I stared at her. “You’ve got to
be kidding. You talking about Jimbo?”

  “Don’t knock it,” she said, grinning. “A lot of women go for the dangerous type, and he is kind of cute in a mean teddy bear way, but he’s got the manners of a pig.”

  “Well, I’ll agree with you there,” I said as the manager returned. He practically groveled at my feet, begging me to believe that his diner was really a safe place to bring the family. I reassured him I wasn’t going to sue. He promised that not only would our dinner be on the house, dessert included, but that I’d get a coupon for a free family dinner whenever I wanted to bring my kids in.

  After he left, Alicia brought our order, along with an extra plate of breadsticks and complimentary refills of lemonade. She lowered her voice. “You be careful. That Jimbo’s a strange one. Some of the waitresses have had trouble with him before; once he gets an idea in his brain, he can’t seem to shake it loose.”

  “Which brain? The one in his head or the one in his pants?” I asked. Harl snorted a spoonful of broth through her nose, but Alicia shook her head.

  “It might seem funny now,” she said, “but I am telling you, the man is dangerous. He hasn’t been right since… oh, since his teen years. I’ll have one of the waiters walk you to your car when you’re ready to go.”

  “But it’s still light out—”

  “No matter. Better safe than sorry.”

  Great. Had I managed to make an enemy rather than just adventure into the land of surreal? “Who is he?”

  She began arranging the trays on the rack again. “Some good ol’ boy, lives in the woods out near Miner’s Lake. I’m not sure who he works for, but he’s not with any logging company that I know of. I think he does a bit of trapping and keeps bees; I seen him selling honey at the farmers’ market. Things like that. Rumor has it that he hangs out with a group of bikers over in the Klickavail Valley.”

  Klickavail Valley. Nestled against the foothills of the Cascades, the forested valley was reported to be the home base for a group of bikers, modern mountain men that had set up shanties on a wide expanse of land that one of their relatives owned. Every now and then, the paper noted some skirmish going on over there, but it was never major enough for the cops to go in and force everybody out.

  Alicia finished picking up the napkins and tossed them in the garbage. “Anyway, Jimbo makes a lot of my girls here nervous. He’s in all hours. We’re a twenty-four-hour joint, ya know; the truckers need to eat all times of the day or night. Jimbo’ll come in late, two or three in the morning, to hustle pool in the back room.” She made sure we had everything we needed and then left.

  Harlow and I ate a subdued dinner and left early. We were both tired.

  ANDREW WAS WAITING for me, an exuberant look lighting up his face. His eyes shone as I wearily pushed my way through the front door. I gave him a halfhearted kiss and sank into the recliner, leaning back as I lifted my feet onto the footrest. Ah, luxury.

  “I’ve got some great news, honey.”

  That’s right; his agent was supposed to have called. “What’s up? Did you get the phone call you were waiting for?” I was too tired to show much enthusiasm at this point, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I forced myself to perk up.

  “I’m off to Hollywood tomorrow afternoon! They want me to go down to discuss the screenplay. My agent says he thinks they’ll go for my ideas on how to adapt it, and if so, I’m home free.” He leapt up and gave me his best impression of Gene Kelly, singin’ in the rain.

  I scrambled out of the recliner and gave him a big hug. “How thrilling! I’m so proud of you.”

  He stopped suddenly, grabbed me by the shoulders, and said, “Come with me! We could have so much fun. It will only be for a week.”

  “Go with you?” The thought of a trip to Hollywood made my skin crawl. I didn’t like big cities, and the last thing I wanted to do was to go romping along Rodeo Drive on a Value Village budget. Besides, more practical matters intruded. “Andrew, I can’t leave the shop and the kids on such short notice. I simply can’t dump all of my responsibilities and go.”

  His face fell. “You don’t want to come with me?”

  “I can’t go with you.” Couldn’t he understand that being a mother meant I couldn’t just take off every time I wanted to? We’d already been through this a couple of times since December.

  Andrew petulantly dropped to the sofa, glaring at me. “Can’t, can’t, can’t,” he said, a sneer forming on his face. “Every time I’ve suggested we go somewhere, you can’t leave the kids, you can’t leave the shop. They make convenient excuses whenever you don’t want to do something. Well, I’ve got news, Em. Your children aren’t babies anymore, and you have plenty of help in your store.” His voice turned bitter. “I thought you wanted us to be more of a couple—”

  The kids were upstairs, and I was pretty sure they could hear what was going on. “Lower your voice or leave.” I inhaled slowly and let my breath out in a thin stream. “Andrew, last week you made it clear that you don’t believe in marriage. I’m not asking you to propose to me, so don’t start in on that again, but I warned you that I can’t let myself get deeply involved with a man who won’t even consider the possibility of a long-term commitment. Kip and Miranda are already too attached to you. Are you going to stick it out when things get rough? Being a father figure is a lot different than playing uncle the way you do.”

  We stared at one another. Was this it? Was this the end? Then, without another word, Andrew pulled me to him, his tongue lightly playing over my lips, his arms holding me like they would never let go. It was so incredibly sweet I wanted to cry, but I gently broke away.

  He stared at me, his dark eyes flashing, whether with anger or passion, I didn’t know. “No, I don’t believe in marriage, at least not for myself. And I don’t think I ever want to have any children of my own. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon you and the kids. Can’t we just take things one day at a time?”

  Torn, wanting him so bad my stomach ached, I ground my teeth together and pushed out of his arms, hugging myself as I paced back and forth. “I’m not twenty years old anymore. I have children. I can’t take things one day at a time. They need stability, and so I have to plan ahead. They come first, Andrew, and they will always come first until they walk out that door to start their own adult lives.”

  He let out a big sigh. “What do you want, then? A written guarantee that I won’t leave you? I wouldn’t be able to give you that even if we did get married.”

  Defeated, I held out my hands. “No, and it would be ridiculous to even think of asking you for something like that. If I thought there was a good chance you might want to be with us for the long haul, I’d risk it because you’re a wonderful man. But I just can’t live in the moment without giving any thought to the future. I can’t hope to change you any more than you can hope to change me.” I gave him a pleading look. It would be so much easier if we weren’t so attracted to each other, but the passion between us couldn’t be denied.

  After a pause, he sat on the sofa and pulled me down beside him, taking my hand in his. “I’m not going to lie; marriage scares the hell out of me. I’ve seen a lot of relationships sour when they hit the altar, but I don’t want to lose you. And you know that I think the kids are great.” He glanced at the clock. “I’ve got to go. I still have to pack. Tomorrow, I drive down to SeaTac to catch the plane. Don’t do anything rash while I’m gone. Please?” He gave me another kiss and then grabbed his coat.

  I stared at the door as it closed behind him. Did I really want Andrew to give me a ring? It was early in our relationship to be talking marriage, but I wanted some sense that I mattered to him, that I was more than just a girlfriend. If he really cared, he’d say no instead of sheepishly breaking our dinner dates when his buddies called him over for the big game. He’d take me out to enjoy the evening, not just to cajole me into his bed since I wouldn’t let him sleep over here. Maybe the subject of marriage was just the tip of the iceb
erg.

  I stared out the bay window into the night. Like a lot of my friends who didn’t have children, Andrew owned his own life. He didn’t have to answer to anybody but himself, and that was absolutely fine. But I had Kip and Miranda; they came first, and what would it say to them if I let Andrew come and go as he pleased while trampling my feelings?

  No, if Andrew really loved me, then he’d understand why I couldn’t run off and leave the kids. He’d have said, “I love you. Do what you have to for your family.” No, marriage itself wasn’t the issue. I just wasn’t sure I was ready to face the real problem.

  Chapter 4

  MY DREAMS WERE scattered by the time I woke up, and I couldn’t remember what they’d been. A vague, unsettled feeling hovered over me like a shadow. I peeked out my window. Overcast, with a hint of rain. I loved that wonderful tang that happened right before a rainstorm; it was as if the cedars and moss spritzed the air with their fragrance to warn us to remember our umbrellas. It was barely mid-April, yet I was ready for autumn again, for the red and gold leaves, crisp underfoot, and the mist that rose off the ground to shroud the town in a ghostly fog. Yep, autumn was my season, and I was born on All Hallows Eve, just as my Nanna had been.

  After showering, I slipped on a flowing mint-green skirt and coral V-necked tee, then slid a blazer over the top. I buckled my new strappy sandals I’d got at Value-Shooz and stretched out my foot to admire the brilliant heels that color-coordinated so well with my shirt. Summer colors, I thought. Mood brighteners. Feminine and yet professional. I brushed my hair and was parting it for a French braid when the kids’ alarm clocks went off. Within a few minutes, the inevitable squabble erupted at the bathroom door. Not in the mood for temper tantrums, I yanked open my door. “This is not the wide, wide world of wrestling! Miranda, use the shower up here. Kip, use the downstairs shower. Both of you hurry up. Breakfast will be on the table in twenty minutes, and you will both be there, clean, dressed, and with hair brushed.”