Page 46 of Jealous of the Clouds
Where’s Camille?
I glanced back and could see Karl, still standing beneath the tree, the picture of both misery and, I guess, curiosity. I wanted to wave, give a thumbs up, but I didn’t dare. I didn’t want Josh—if it was indeed Josh—any indication that I wasn’t alone.
But I was alone. And that terrified me. I had to fight the urge to turn and run.
I moved into the darkness.
The figure at the other end didn’t move.
When I got about halfway there, the figure shook, as though shaking rain from the long coat.
“Josh?” I called out.
And when I did, the figure turned and started to move away—not running, but simply walking slowly, with purpose.
I took this as a sign to follow. Perhaps Camille was just out of sight at the other end?
I quickened my pace, the thrum of traffic above me loud and, in my worried and frightened state, like the growl of a monster.
When I reached the other end of the tunnel, though, there was not a soul in sight. All I could see was an expanse of damp grass and mud which led to the beach which abutted churning and angry Lake Michigan, its color dark gray, tipped with silver waves that rose and flung themselves mercilessly at the shore.
On a normal day, even a cold one, there might be runners out, or a biker or two, someone walking at the water’s edge. But today, with the chill and mixture of rain and snow, there was no one. The waterfront was as deserted as if it was three o’clock in the morning.
I let out a whimper of disappointment and frustration, casting my gaze from side to side. Where had the figure gone? Had it even been Josh, or was it simply a bizarre coincidence?
Footsteps sounded behind. Breathlessly, I turned.
I was glad to see Karl, standing cautiously behind me, his face mirroring the disappointment blackening my soul.
He shook his head and held out his arms.
I went to him, but couldn’t stop the burning pain of the questions repeating endlessly in my head.
Where was Camille? Was she all right? Had I done this to her?
Chapter 20
Karl
Ted slept in my bed.
No, we hadn’t crossedthatline yet. He was simply exhausted by what I perceived as Josh’s power play—Camille’s abduction. He compounded the cruelty by setting up the fake meet we’d just been to a couple hours ago. We’d returned to my place drenched to our bones, shivering and miserable. I ran a hot shower for Ted and nudged him toward the bathroom. He was practically asleep on his feet. When he emerged fifteen minutes later, a towel around his waist and hair tousled and damp, I was so overcome with both love and lust that I almost went against my own instincts of propriety and caring and made a move on him. It would have been so easy to draw him toward me—with a flick of a finger or two, I could cause that towel to drop to the floor. And then, I’d lead him to my bedroom…
But no. The man was traumatized, aching, at a loss, guilty for what he believed was the part he’d played in Camille going missing. What kind of monster would I be if I tried to manipulate him? Attempted to capitalize on his vulnerability? I am not that guy.
My arousal at him being close and almost naked was natural. Taking advantage of him at this point would be unnatural—and cruel. I hold myself to a more ethical standard. If we survived this, there would be plenty of time for more joyous encounters.
I did lead him to the bedroom, though. I tucked him in, glad I’d made up the bed only yesterday with flannel sheets and a soft and worn quilt my grandmother had made some fifty years ago. It was tattered and faded, but felt like love to me.
I paused at the door, my hand on the light switch, to look back at him. “Sleep now. You’re all emptied out and I’m sorry to say that, in the state you’re in, you’re no help to anyone, Rest. And when you wake, I’ll make you a plate of my soft scrambled eggs and a cup of tea.”
He smiled and I was glad to see his eyelids already fluttering.
I moved to my home office, a converted sun room off the living room. It was chilly, but the cold invigorated me. Outside the windows all around, the sky had gone dark, black, starless. The only illumination was the slight orange-ish color near the horizon, from noise pollution. I pressed my forehead against the glass, thinkinghewas out there somewhere—the man who murdered my brother, the man who had Ted’s best friend held captive, the man who might remove the man I was falling in love with from this world before I’d even had a chance to let him know how I felt about him.
Should I change that? Was the notion selfish? Should I wait? None of us knows what the future holds. Josh could take him away tonight or tomorrow. And Ted would never know your true feelings.
I moved toward the bedroom, realizing we’re all living on borrowed time.
