Home>>read Midnight Valentine free online

Midnight Valentine(66)

By:J.T. Geissinger


“By chance, I had breakfast at Cal’s Diner that day. My friend Jean McCorkle told me she met a nice young woman two nights prior who bought the Buttercup Inn. Happened to mention Theo was in at the same time. Happened to mention he left in a state.”

Coop’s voice drops even lower. “Happened to mention she almost ran Theo over the night before on the road in front of Sunday Anderson’s house. Came to a screeching stop just inches from his legs, she said. Appeared out of nowhere and scared her half to death. He never even looked up. Then I find out later from Sunday that you were at a party at her house…the same night Jean McCorkle almost ran Theo over on the street outside.”

My heart races so fast, I can’t catch my breath. I remember the look on Theo’s face as he gazed out at me from the shadows of Sunday’s back porch.

All that hostility in his eyes. All that strange, unsettling longing.

Coop runs a hand over his head, adjusts his tie, and exhales a long breath. “Couple weeks pass, Theo’s a bull to handle the whole time. Just a bull. He’s antsy, sleepin’ less than usual—which isn’t much to begin with—drinkin’ too much. Somethin’s wrong, and it’s big. Haven’t seen him that fucked up since right after the accident. So I sit him down and tell him I’m worried. You know what his response was?”

Afraid of what Coop’s going to tell me, I shake my head.

“‘How can you remember someone you’ve never met?’”

That startles me to the point of speechlessness. My mind forms the word What? but nothing comes out of my mouth. My tongue is frozen, like the ice water slicing through my veins.

Coop’s still talking. He hasn’t noticed my sudden stillness or the way all the blood has drained from my face.

“So I told him you can’t. It’s not possible. They just remind you of someone you already know. He agreed, but I got the feelin’ he was only placatin’ me because I looked so worried. I hoped that would be the end of it, that maybe he was just goin’ through a rough patch…”

Coop focuses on me. He says quietly, “But then he told me I had to go visit a new client. Said he couldn’t do it himself, though he wouldn’t say why. But he made sure I knew that this wasn’t any client. Told me to make sure Hillrise got the job no matter what. Even if we had to do it for free. I almost laughed, that was so dumb, but he was dead serious. So the next mornin’, I find myself knockin’ on the front door of the Buttercup Inn…and there you were. And now Theo’s gone.”

Coop pauses. His gaze is piercing. “You comin’ to town and him fallin’ apart and leavin’ so soon after isn’t a coincidence.”

Coincidence.

There’s that word again. The word I’ve been telling myself over and over again is the explanation for everything where Theo is concerned.

“I know you’re loyal to him, Coop,” I say, my voice tremulous. “I don’t expect you to answer this. But did he say anything before he left? Anything about me?”

Coop stares at me long and hard. I get the sense he’s trying to decide something. Then he reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a folded piece of paper, and hands it to me.

“He left this for you. I have no idea what it’s supposed to mean, but he said you will.”

I take the note. The paper is almost blindingly white in the bright morning sunlight. Hands shaking, I unfold it and read.

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened.





The world tilts dangerously sideways.

Coop was right: I know what it means. It’s chapter seven, verse seven from the gospel of Matthew, but that’s not what makes it so extraordinary.

I have that particular verse memorized because Cass had it tattooed on his back.

I hear myself ask, “Coop, how long ago was Theo’s accident?”

He looks at me strangely. “Five years. Why do you ask?”

Scalding heat flashes over my skin. I begin to hyperventilate. “By any…” I have to stop to force breath into my lungs. “By any chance, do you remember the date?”

“Yeah. May seventeenth.”

Everything starts to spin.

Theo’s accident was exactly five years ago to the day that Cass died.





20





“Hello, Megan. It’s Dr. Singer.”

“Oh, thank God! Thank you for calling me back so fast!”

“I was in a meeting, or I would’ve called sooner. You sounded upset in your message. What’s going on?”

I’m in the ladies’ room at the church, where I fled without saying a word of farewell to poor Coop, who must think I’m a lunatic. I chew my thumbnail as I pace back and forth in front of the row of sinks. I avoid looking at myself in the mirror because I’m frightened of what I might find lurking behind my eyes.