Witchy Woman Page 4

  Again he nodded, appearing resigned. Then, unexpectedly, he grasped her hand. “There are a lot of antique stores in Boston. We could do this again.”

  She was so shocked that at first she couldn’t answer. It wasn’t the gesture that surprised her, or his invitation. It was the nonverbal communication that had knocked her speechless. From the moment of skin-to-skin contact, she had felt a rush of such friendly, unthreatening warmth and affection that for once in her life she didn’t immediately try to tug her hand from another’s grasp. She also felt the force of his desire, which commingled with her own.

  “Tess?”

  “Uh, yeah, I’m open,” she finally managed, somewhat ungracefully, she thought, but her intelligent mind had gone all mushy.

  She fairly floated home. This was the first time she had ever felt optimistic about her romantic prospects. If Nate Wagner could hold her hand and leave her feeling euphoric, maybe they could touch in other ways.

  She could hardly wait to tell Judy. Judy, of course, had guessed all along that there was a spark between Tess and Nate. That was why she had tactfully disappeared this afternoon, claiming she had “pressing business to attend to.” Now she would thoroughly enjoy telling Tess, “I told you so.” And Tess wouldn’t mind at all.

  The phone was ringing as she walked through the front door. When she answered, she was delighted to find Judy on the other end of the line. “And you don’t believe in karma,” Tess scolded. “I was just getting ready to call—”

  “Tess, hush and listen for a minute. I’m at Mass General.”

  Tess’s heart skipped a beat, then thudded like a base drum. “What are you doing at the hospital? Is someone sick?”

  “Yeah, me. Oh, God, Tess, I’m really sick and I’m scared out of my mind. Please, come stay with me until they find out what’s wrong.” Her voice, normally so brash and carefree, was choked with tears.

  “Sit tight, I’m coming,” was all Tess said before hanging up. Judy would understand that Tess would drop everything and get there as fast as she could.

  As she pulled a denim jacket out of the closet, an awful thought occurred to her. It couldn’t be the curse, could it? After all, Judy hadn’t even touched the Crimson Cat, although she had expressed an interest in it.

  No. Tess remembered clearly that a person actually had to hold the statue, to be in possession of it—even temporarily, as Nate had been—in order for the powerful magic to take effect.

  Anyway, this mysterious illness of Judy’s was probably something minor—a sudden, violent onset of the flu, maybe, and she was overreacting. Judy never got sick. She probably didn’t realize how miserable a simple case of the flu could feel.

  Yes, that had to be it, Tess told herself firmly as she locked the door behind her. But she knew the awful sense of foreboding wouldn’t leave her alone until she’d seen for herself that Judy was really all right.

  THREE

  Either Tess had disappeared, or she was deliberately avoiding him.

  Nate had tried to reach her for two days. At the software company where she worked, her assistant informed him that Tess was “out of the office” for an indefinite period. When he called her home number, which he obtained easily enough from the phone book, all he got was her answering machine.

  He had called that number several times for the pure pleasure of allowing her sweet, sexy answering-machine voice to wash over him, but he never left a message. It was a selfish thing, he supposed, but he didn’t like being the one to wait around for the phone to ring. In case it didn’t.

  She couldn’t be trying to avoid him, he decided. If she didn’t want to talk to him, all she had to do was tell him, and she seemed intelligent enough to figure that out. Then where was she?

  He wandered into the kitchen, popped the top on a beer, and considered what he might dig out of the freezer for dinner. He had at least a dozen rib-eye steaks in there, but he was sick of steak. Maybe he’d go out for seafood. He might as well live high while he could.

  On the average he made a healthy income from his freelance writing, but the money was far from predictable. With his budgeting skills, or lack thereof, it was feast or famine—champagne and caviar one month, macaroni and cheese the next. Because he’d just received payment for copyediting a medical-school textbook, he’d splurged on rib-eye steaks.

  Beer in hand, he returned to the living room and flopped onto his comfortably worn leather sofa, intending to make some notes on the fake-antiques story. Instead he gazed out the window on a dreary afternoon on Central Square. Then, in an almost automatic gesture, he picked up the cordless phone and dialed Tess’s number again—from memory, this time.

  “Hello?” came a breathless voice.

  Nate was so surprised to have Tess in the flesh on the other end of the line that for a moment he said nothing.

  “Listen, if you’re the breather who’s been calling, I’ve had just about enough of—”

  “Whoa, wait a minute, I’m no breather. It’s Nate Wagner. What’s wrong? Is someone hassling you?” he asked sharply.

  “Oh, hi, Nate.” She sounded pleased to hear from him, but there was an unmistakable note of strain in her voice that put him on the alert. “And no, no one’s hassling me, but I’ve had a bunch of hang-ups on my answering machine.”

  Nate gulped back an apology, unwilling to admit that at least some of those calls had been his. “How annoying,” he said instead, silently promising the powers-that-be that next time he reached Tess’s machine he would leave a message. “Where have you been, anyway?”

  “How did you know I’ve been gone?” Suspicion tainted her words.

  “Your assistant,” he responded after he hoped wasn’t a telltale pause. “When I couldn’t get you at work, I tried your home number. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No, I don’t mind. What can I do for you?”

  Her tone was smoothly professional, but again he noted the strain in her voice. He got the impression that she wanted to talk to him, but she had some urgent matter pressing on her mind. “Tess, what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

  She expelled an elaborate sigh. “It’s Judy,” she said, and then the story came tumbling out. “She’s in the hospital. She got very weak on Saturday and went to the emergency room at Mass General. They think she has something called … God, I can’t even remember. GBS, or something like that.”

  “Guillain-Barré syndrome?” Nate supplied as his stomach sank.

  “Yes, that’s it. You’re familiar with it, then?”

  “A little. I wrote a story about it a couple of years ago. Is it … I mean, do they know if she’ll be okay?” He didn’t remember a lot about the disease, only that it produced paralysis in varying degrees. Some victims recovered fully. Many were left permanently disabled. Some died.

  “The doctors don’t know yet. She’s still on a downhill slide, though. She’s getting weaker by the hour. I’ve been spending a lot of time with her. Her parents are retired in Texas, and she doesn’t want to worry them unless it’s absolutely necessary. She’s afraid they’ll fly up here in a panic. But her doctor told her today she should notify her family—” Tess’s voice broke.

  Her distress stabbed at his heart. “I’m sorry, Tess. Is there anything I can do?” He made the offer sincerely, though he couldn’t imagine being of any use in such a situation. So he was surprised when she took him up on his offer.

  “Actually, there is something,” she said slowly, as if thinking out the solution to a taxing puzzle. “Judy’s doctor said the best thing for her right now is to keep her spirits up and get her mind off her illness. Maybe you could interview her—you know, ask her questions about buying antiques. She does have some funny stories to tell.”

  “I’d be happy to, but do you really think that would help?”

  “Sure,” Tess said, gaining enthusiasm. “You made quite an impression on Judy. She thinks you’re interesting. She would be very flattered by your attention, and I know it would make her feel better.�
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  Do you think I’m interesting? he wanted to ask. Selfish, selfish. “Okay. When should I go?”

  “As soon as possible. Now, if you can. Frankly, I don’t know how much longer she’ll be able to talk. I can meet you at the hospital in an hour. Room three-thirty-two.”

  “Yeah, okay. It’s that bad?”

  “It’s that bad,” she confirmed. Now he could hear the tears that clogged her throat. Damn.

  He was relieved Tess would be meeting him. The hospital wasn’t his favorite place, not since he’d spent more than his share of time in one waiting room after another, and he didn’t relish the idea of walking into Judy’s room alone. Besides, Tess sounded as if she could use a shoulder to cry on.

  Come off it, Wagner. His motives went beyond altruism, and far beyond professional interest. He was downright anxious to see her again, and to find out whether the spark of awareness that had flashed between them was real, or a figment of his hopeful imagination.

  When Nate walked off the elevator on the third floor at Mass General, he immediately spotted Tess, looking rumpled but no less appealing in a belted sweater, a cotton print skirt, and gray ankle boots. She was watching for him, and she offered him a weary welcoming smile as she ran a nervous hand through her short hair.

  His first instinct was to pull her into a protective hug, but something stopped him. He met her gaze, and in her eyes he saw so many emotions, he couldn’t sort them out—longing, desperation, and fear. Definitely fear.

  He still remembered that brief flash of panic he’d seen in her eyes when he had simply grasped her hand.

  The need to feel her body next to his, if only briefly, almost overrode his common sense. He reached out to her. But instead of meeting him halfway, she grasped his hand in a clumsy greeting.

  Nate’s disappointment was almost tangible. He’d never had so much trouble reading a woman’s signals before.

  He squeezed her hand in return. “How’s she doing?”

  Tess shook her head. “Not good. I waited for you out here so I could warn you—she looks awful, with all those machines hooked up to her. But I told her you were coming, and she’s looking forward to seeing you.”

  He nodded. “Let’s do it, then.” He reached into his jacket pocket for a notebook and pen, then followed Tess into the room.

  Despite Tess’s warning, Nate was shocked by Judy’s appearance. She was hardly the same, vibrant woman who had argued with Tess over a cracked Chinese vase. Without her makeup and colorful clothes, she was a shadow of herself, gaunt and pale against the white sheets.

  “Look who I found roaming the halls,” Tess said brightly.

  Before Judy could even respond with a greeting, Nate launched into his cheer-up-the-patient routine. It was one he knew well enough. “Hey, what’s all this?” he asked, making a dramatic sweep with his arm, taking in the various medical paraphernalia that stood like grim sentinels around Judy’s bed. “Are you sick, or are you trying to make it into the Guinness Book of Records for ‘Most Life-Support Equipment Attached to One Human Being’?”

  Apparently it was exactly the right thing to say. Judy grinned up at him. “Maybe both. Will you promise to enter me posthumously if I croak?”

  “You bet,” he said as he pulled a chair up to the bed. “But only if you leave me something in your will.” He noticed that Tess cringed slightly at the gallows humor. He couldn’t blame her. But frank talk was sometimes a coping mechanism. “Now,” he continued, “I understand you’ve had some interesting experiences buying antiques. But before we start, I want one thing understood. If you get tired of me, say the word and I’m outta here. Deal?”

  Judy worked her arm out from under the covers and took his hand in a weak grasp. “Deal. Oh, Tess, honey, you must be sick of this room by now. I know I am. Why don’t you take a break and go get yourself something to eat? Read a few pages of that romance novel hidden in your purse and relax for a few minutes. Nate and I will have a nice chat.”

  So, Tess read romance novels. Interesting. She appeared slightly reluctant to leave, but he urged her on out with a nod. Aside from the fact that Judy might need a break from her friend’s well-meaning hovering, he wanted this chance to speak with her alone. If an opportunity presented itself, he might ask her about Moonbeam Majick.

  Tess wandered down to the cafeteria, but the only thing she thought she could keep on her beleaguered stomach was a vanilla milkshake. She bought one, then returned to the third floor and paced in front of the nurses’ station, wondering what Nate and Judy were talking about. She hoped Judy didn’t have it in her head to play matchmaker.

  These last three days had taken their toll on Tess. She had stayed by Judy’s bedside day and night, unable to bear the thought of her friend lying in that sterile room, alone and afraid. But there was only so much Tess could take. By asking Nate to visit, she had been looking after her own concerns as well as her friend’s. She needed a break. And she’d needed to see Nate Wagner again.

  Tess had seen the silent understanding that passed between Nate and Judy, the grasp of hands. A warm, reassuring touch was one thing Tess couldn’t provide. She was doubly glad now that she’d asked him to come, for Judy’s sake as well as her own.

  Nate spent what seemed like a long time in Judy’s room, but when Tess checked her watch for the tenth time, only twenty minutes had passed.

  “Did everything go okay?” she asked anxiously the moment he emerged into the corridor.

  He nodded as he tucked his reporter’s notebook into the inside pocket of his tweed jacket. “She gave me some great material and some good leads too. But I could tell she was getting tired. She wants to talk to you before she falls asleep.”

  “Okay. Nate, I can’t thank you enough. You were great. Everyone else tiptoes and whispers around her, but you knew just what to say.”

  He shrugged. “My younger sister died of bone cancer a few years ago. She taught me how important humor is to someone who’s sick.”

  “I’ll try to remember that. Thanks again.” She sensed that he wanted to give her a reassuring touch. Part of her longed for it. To feel his strong arms around her was something she’d dreamed of in unguarded moments. But her habitual caution held her back. She honestly didn’t know what would happen if she let down her guard, and she wasn’t prepared to deal with any surprises just now. She wanted to hang on to her fantasies about Nate a little longer, just a little.

  She knew that eventually she’d have to let them go, but not now. She clutched her milkshake with both hands and stayed a safe distance from him. “Would you … would you wait here for a few minutes?” she asked, feeling shy. But she didn’t want him to leave.

  “I was planning to.” He flashed a devilish smile, causing her heart to flutter at an alarming rate.

  Before she could say or do anything silly, she nodded and ducked into Judy’s room.

  Judy was still smiling, though weakly. “Hey, that Nate is priceless. You better grab onto him fast.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Tess said demurely, pushing aside the disturbing imagery produced by the thought of grabbing on. “But I doubt he’s interested.”

  “Oh, he’s interested, all right.”

  “Why? What did he say? What did you say?”

  Judy’s expression became enigmatic. “Nothing important. Listen, I really did want to ask you a favor before I conk out again. Can you look in on Whiskers?”

  Tess tried not to let her distaste show on her face. Cats, whether live or carved from marble, weren’t her favorite animals, especially not Judy’s cat. The overfed Whiskers wrapped his fat, furry, black body around Tess’s ankles at every opportunity. Her mother used to tell her that witches inhabited the bodies of black cats. Tess suppressed a shiver.

  “Sure, I can stop by your place and check on him,” she forced herself to say, smiling all the while. “But I thought your neighbor Mrs. Glick was taking care of him.”

  “She is, but she called earlier and said Whiskers isn’t eatin
g. I want you to make sure he’s okay. And, Tess, if anything happens to me—”

  “Don’t say that!” Tess cut in fiercely. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “If anything happens to me,” Judy persisted, “will you find a good home for Whiskers?”

  “But nothing’s going to—”

  “Promise.”

  “Okay, I promise. But only if you stop talking nonsense.”

  “It’s not nonsense. I might be dying, Tess, and you better get used to the idea. Now go away. I want to sleep for a while.” With that, she closed her eyes, indicating the subject wasn’t open for discussion.

  Rather than have Judy hear her snuffling, Tess left the room. She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand, embarrassed to have Nate see her crying. But as fast as she could wipe them away, new ones formed. Wonderful. Why did she have to pick now to cry?

  “Judy asked me to go with you to feed the cat,” he announced matter-of-factly. “She doesn’t like to think of you riding the subway alone in the evening.”

  “I was planning to … go get … my car.” Shaky sobs punctuated the sentence.

  “I’ll take you to Judy’s,” he said, brooking no argument. “And don’t worry, I drove my car, not the Harley.” As they passed the nurses’ station on the way to the elevator, he grabbed a couple of tissues from a box on the desk and handed them to her wordlessly.

  She was so grateful that he wasn’t making a big deal of her tears that she would have agreed to anything he suggested.

  The weather had taken a nasty turn, both cold and damp. Tess had accidentally left her jacket in Judy’s room and didn’t want to return for it, in case her friend was asleep. Nate, overcome with a ridiculous urge to be chivalrous, gave her his tweed blazer. She accepted it with a silent nod of gratitude, although it swallowed her whole. The hem hit her halfway to her knees, and the sleeves extended beyond her fingertips.

  The oversized jacket, combined with her tears, should have made her look childlike. But Nate had no trouble remembering that Tess DeWitt was a hundred-percent full-grown woman. He could have offered her more warmth and comfort than a threadbare jacket, but he didn’t intend to tread where he wasn’t yet welcome. He settled for frequent covert glances at her as he drove toward Back Bay, drinking in the sight of her angel’s face in profile, her damp, tear-shiny eyes, the rise and fall of her breasts, and she did nothing more provocative than breathe.