Season Of Strangers Part 9

"Might as well," Babs said, "you only live once."

"If you don't mind, Julie, I'd rather have white zin. I know where it is." Laura opened the refrigerator, knowing Julie always kept a bottle of the sweet blush wine just for her.

Babs just grinned. "Good idea, honey. Nothing worse than wasting good wine on a Boone's Farm drinker."

Laura laughed. "Come on, Babs, I'm not that bad."

"No you aren't. Besides, if you're smart, you'll never develop a taste for expensive wine. Once you do, it's impossible to go back to the cheap stuff."

Julie said a silent amen to that. She had learned to appreciate fine wine when she had been dating Jeffrey Muller. During their two-year affair, she and Jeff, head of the L.A. division of Panasonic, had made half a dozen trips to the Napa Valley to replenish his extensive wine cellar.

Like most of their trips, they usually ended up with Julie in tears.

She shook off the notion. She never thought of Jeffrey anymore. He had stolen the last of her innocent dreams, thoughts of a husband and family, but three years had pa.s.sed since then. She was successful in business and even if she didn't feel completely fulfilled, she was satisfied with the independent life she now lived.

She glanced at Laura, wishing her sister was as capable of coping with her problems as Julie had taught herself to be.

"All right," Babs said, "I know you're Miss Efficient, but there must be something we can do to help."

Babs was right, there wasn't much to do. Julie set them to work at a couple of minor last-minute tasks, but for the most part the meal was ready. Chicken dijon, wild rice, broccoli hollandaise, salad with an herb-balsamic dressing, fresh strawberries drizzled with Grand Marnier for dessert. Nothing fancy, just good healthy, relatively low-cal food.

"What time is Owen coming?" Laura asked, drawing Julie's gaze, which darkened with concern at the sight of her sister's drawn expression. In her simple blue silk dress, her hair pulled into a tight chignon, on the surface, Laura seemed calm enough. But Julie couldn't stop thinking of the tape Dr. Heraldson had played.

"Owen promised he'd be here by seven," Julie said. "He ought to be arriving any minute." She studied Laura more closely and as the minutes slipped past, began to notice a slight restlessness, a subtle tension about her. What was she thinking? Julie wondered. Why was she so afraid?

The doorbell rang a few minutes later. "That's probably Owen now."

It was. Silver-streaked light-brown hair, darkly tanned and athletically built, at forty-five Owen Mallory looked thirty. He was English, wealthier than Donald Trump, but the Earl of Finance, as the press often called him, wasn't nearly so flashy.

"Good evening, Julie. Felicitations on your birthday." He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"Owen, it's so good to see you."

"Bit of a jam on the freeway. Poor Arthur was in a t.i.ther." Arthur was Owen's chauffeur, an aging black man who lived in one of the cottages on his employer's huge estate.

"I'm just glad you could make it."

"Wouldn't have missed it, dear girl. As a matter of fact, I'm planning to spend a bit more time at Oceanside." The name he had given the palatial manor next door. "Perhaps we'll finally have a chance to see a bit more of each other."

Julie smiled. "That would be wonderful." She had always liked Owen Mallory. He'd been a pleasure to work with and even taught her a thing or two about investing. "At any rate, it's always good to see you."

"What about me?" Patrick asked from the doorway, poking his dark head inside. "Aren't you glad to see me, too?"

"Patrick..." A flush rose into her cheeks. "Yes...of course I am."

He handed her a bottle of Dom Perignon and a small bouquet of red roses. "Happy birthday." But instead of a kiss on the cheek, he bent forward and softly kissed her on the mouth.

Julie's stomach fluttered then dipped like a roller coaster. It was a short kiss, hardly immodest. Dear G.o.d, she couldn't believe it affected her the way it did.

"Y-you two know each other, of course."

"Of course," Owen said, glaring at Patrick. She wondered why he was frowning, then remembered the men had once had real estate dealings. From Owen's obvious dislike, it was apparent it hadn't worked out.

"Why don't you both come in?"

Owen walked past her into the living room, but Patrick lingered a moment. He was staring at her lips, his skin a little flushed as if he was slightly unsettled himself. Then he smiled. "What can I do to help?"

"Everything is pretty much under control. There's wine in the kitchen. Liquor in the bar if you prefer. I know you're usually a Chivas drinker."

"A gla.s.s of club soda would be fine."

She arched a brow. "You aren't drinking?"

"You weren't surprised the other night."

"That was different. We were eating j.a.panese. I just figured tea went better with sushi than scotch...although I guess you could have ordered sake."

"Club soda. That's what I'm drinking these days. It's not as good as Dom Perignon, but it's not all that bad either."

She smiled brightly. "That's terrific, Patrick. I'm really proud of you."

The five of them talked for a while, sipped wine and ate hors d'oeuvres, then went into the dining room and sat down at the long, gla.s.s-topped, bleached pine table. Owen poured the Dom Perignon, filling everyone's gla.s.s but Patrick's. Patrick filled his with soda and lifted it in a toast along with everyone else.

"Happy birthday, my dear," Owen said. "May you have many, many more."

Soft notes of Brubeck jazz floated in from the CD player in the living room. As they began to eat, darkness settled in. Tall white candles in cut-crystal holders flickered in the breeze blowing in through the windows, bathing the room in soft yellow tones. Outside the ocean rolled onto the beach.

They finished the meal in warm conversation, then Babs helped Julie clear away the plates and they returned to the table to linger over dessert. All but Patrick sipped a cup of dark French roast coffee, Laura's heavily laced with cream. Outside the window, the rhythmic pounding of waves against sand set up a soothing lull that contributed to the pleasant atmosphere.

Pleasant, it seemed, for all of them but Laura.

So far only Julie had noticed her sister's furtive glances toward the thickening darkness outside, the way she had begun to shift uneasily in her chair. Laura let her coffee grow cold and started drinking more wine, filling her gla.s.s to the rim with the last of a bottle of chardonnay that sat open in the middle of the table.

Seated in a chair beside her, Julie reached over and clasped the hand Laura unconsciously fisted in her lap. It felt cold and clammy, damp with perspiration.

"Laura, honey, are you all right?"

Patrick had noticed Laura, too. He was watching with an odd intensity and more than a little concern.

"I'm fine, Julie. I guess I'm a little stressed out is all."

"Hard day at work?"

"Yeah...I guess so." She glanced toward the windows and nervously bit her lip. "I've decided to go home after supper. I've got some things to do in the morning. You understand, don't you? You aren't upset?"

"You brought an overnight bag. I thought you were going to stay."

Laura glanced toward the doors leading out onto the deck. "I've got to go."

Julie forced herself to smile. "It's all right. You don't have to stay if you don't want to, and of course I'm not upset." She squeezed Laura's hand, let go and rejoined the table conversation, not wanting to draw any more undue attention to her sister. But from the corner of her eye, she watched the way Laura crimped her napkin, picked at a loose thread in the hem. Every few seconds her eyes darted to the blackness outside.

Someone laughed, but Laura's face went rigid. "What's that?" she said, breaking into Owen's tale of a chaotic week he had just spent in London. "Wh-what's that funny sound?"

Everyone paused to listen. "I don't hear anything," Babs said. "Wait a minute...now I do."

It was a thick, dull humming, a sound in the distance that seemed to be moving toward them. As it neared, it grew louder, making a buzzing sound above them, compressing the air and reminding Julie of something...something...but she couldn't quite think what it was.

"It's them! They're coming!" Laura jumped up from the table, jerking backward so fast she knocked over her chair. It landed with a clatter against the wooden floors.

Julie stood up, too. "It's all right, Laura. There's nothing to be afraid of. We'll just go out and see what it is."

Laura just stood frozen, her face drained of color as the heavy dull buzzing drew nearer. Then a bright white light filled the room, illuminating everyone at the table, throwing their features into shadowy contrasts of light and dark.

"Nooo!" A high-pitched scream tore from Laura's throat. "I won't let them take me! Oh, G.o.d I won't let them hurt me again!" She started to run, but tripped on the chair and went sprawling, came up on her knees and began to slide across the floor till she hit the wall and backed into a corner.

Babs reached her first. "It's all right, honey, no one's going to hurt you. It's only a helicopter." The whop, whop, whop of the blades now sounded directly overhead.

"Laura, it's okay," Julie soothed as the searchlight moved on and the chopper roared off down the beach, taking the dull hum with it. "It's one of those sheriff's helicopters." Kneeling at Laura's side, Julie pulled her sister's shaking body into the circle of her arms, trembling nearly as badly as she was. "They fly over every once in a while, remember? That's probably what happened the last time you were here."

Laura gulped back tears. "How-how did you know about that? Do you remember what happened? I remember, Julie. I remember everything. I didn't for a while but now I do."

"What's she talking about?" Babs asked.

"Something she told Dr. Heraldson. Something she believed happened to her the last time she came here."

Laura looked up at her with big dark, tear-filled eyes. "Did I tell Dr. Heraldson what happened? Is that why he wanted you to listen to the tape?"

"Yes. He said you were frightened by something that happened to you at the hospital. You told him you'd been taken there the day we spent out on the beach. Since we both knew that hadn't really happened, he thought maybe I could think of something else that could have frightened you that day."

"I know what frightened me. Just now...when I heard that noise, I remembered everything...everything that happened. Every terrible, agonizing moment."

Patrick stepped into the circle just then. "It's obvious Laura's upset. The evening's over. We've all had a lovely time. Why don't we give Julie a chance to talk to her sister in private?"

"Julie?" Babs questioned with a pointed glance at Patrick. "Are you sure that's what you want? Maybe I should stay." Babs had had a brief affair with Patrick years ago, but had wisely been one of the few who had ever dumped him, which was probably the reason they had been able to stay friends.

Julie looked at Laura, whose face was still so ashen the blue veins in her temple showed through. Her limbs were quaking, her hands balled into fists.

"I think Patrick's right." Unconsciously Julie rubbed the back of her neck, feeling a dull throb of pain. d.a.m.n, a headache was the last thing she needed. "I'd appreciate it if you all went home. I think my sister could use a little time alone."

Owen reached over and gently squeezed her shoulder. "I'm only just next door. Not a bit of trouble for me to come back if you need me."

"Thank you, Owen. I'm sure we'll be okay."

Patrick saw them all to the door, surprisingly considerate for Patrick. He waved a brief goodbye and then they were gone.

Julie breathed a sigh of relief. "Now..." Pasting a smile on her face, she turned and helped Laura to her feet. "Why don't we go into the living room? I'll fix you a cup of hot milk and you can tell me what this is all about."

Laura nodded dully. Julie led her into the living room then returned as promised with a cup of steaming milk. Laura accepted the cup, wrapping her hands around the mug as if to relieve a chill, but didn't take a drink.

"Feel like talking about it?" Julie said gently, sitting down beside her on the sofa.

Laura's dark gaze turned in her direction. "I thought you said you heard the tape."

"I also said it didn't make much sense. You said you were in a hospital, but you weren't, at least not on the two occasions you described."

"Not a hospital, Julie." Laura stared off into the distance. Julie had never seen such desolation. "A s.p.a.ceship. The day we went to the beach, I was taken aboard a s.p.a.ceship."

Julie took the news like a blow to the stomach. In Laura's twenty-four years she'd said a lot of crazy things, but this was the wildest yet. The throbbing in her head continued to build, escalating to an ache than ran down her neck and stabbed into her shoulders. "I'm afraid I don't know what to say."

"Just say you believe me, Julie. No one else is going to. If you don't, I don't know what I'm going to do." Laura started crying then, hugging her arms around her stomach, bending over as if she were in pain.

Julie smoothed back silvery strands of her long blond hair. "Maybe it would be better if I didn't believe you. Then we could investigate this whole thing together, find out what really happened."

"I know what happened," Laura sobbed. "It's happened two times-both when I was here. I wasn't dreaming, Julie. It was nothing like a dream. It was a nightmare but it was real."

Just then the doorbell rang, and both of them jumped.

"I'll go see who it is," Julie said, trying to slow the battering of her heart. Before she could get up from the couch, the door swung open and Patrick leaned through the doorway.

"Can I come in?" He still wore his dark suit, but the tie was gone and his shirt had been unb.u.t.toned, showing a triangle of smooth dark skin.

"I thought we agreed it would be best for Laura if everyone went home."

"What I meant was everyone but me." Patrick strode purposely toward them. Oddly enough, she was glad to see him. "Besides, I had a feeling you were getting one of your headaches."

"I am."

"I helped before. Maybe I can again."

Julie just nodded, starting back toward the living room, Patrick following closely in her wake.

"Feeling any better?" he asked Laura, pulling a big orange-and-red striped ottoman over in front of the sofa.

"I may never feel better again."

"Want to tell me about it? Believe it or not, I can be a very good listener."

Her chin went up, a gesture she and Julie had inherited from their mother. "Go ahead, Julie. Tell him what I said. I'm sure he'll get a laugh out of it."

Concerned blue eyes swung in Julie's direction. It was a look she hadn't expected, a look that promised understanding.

Julie sighed. "Laura believes she's been taken aboard a s.p.a.ceship."

For a moment he said nothing. "Is that all? I thought it was something important."

Laura smiled faintly, and Julie plunged ahead. "She's convinced it's the truth. She believes it totally and completely." She took a deep breath and rushed on, suddenly defensive of her sister. "She isn't the first person to claim such a thing, you know. I've read articles about it in the newspaper. I don't remember exactly what they said, but I know it's called alien abduction. It isn't absolutely impossible. Just because it can't be verified doesn't necessarily mean it's not the truth."

A corner of his mouth curved up. "No, I don't suppose it does." He studied her a moment, then returned his attention to Laura. "On the other hand, wouldn't it be more comforting to believe that perhaps it was some sort of trick, some illusion of the mind? Then you could work through the problem and come to some solution. You wouldn't have to constantly be afraid."