If Only She'd Loved Him

Chapter 43

Saturday 12:35 pm

Megan kissed Erik back, savoring the bubbles of champagne and the tart taste of orange juice on her tongue. He kissed her back, his hand wandering down her neck, pulling her close to him,  but she slid out of his arms. Pausing, she reached for her glass of champagne. Her fingers played with the rim, making it hum. Again, he reached for her, but she shifted her hips away. Time to put her plan in action.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, Erik, it's not you. It's me."

He stiffened. He'd heard that speech before. "What do you mean?" he asked, putting down his glass of champagne. He'd been so happy. Now he felt like a sharp needle in the form of her tongue was about to burst his joy.

"Erik," she didn't have to make her voice quiver as she spoke, considering the circumstances, it did it naturally, "I'm worried."

"Oh, sweetheart, you've got nothing to fear as long I'm here." He leaned down and began to stroke her hair. "I'll keep you safe, always."

"Ummm, I know that, but what about everyone else? What about Jean? She's going to worry when she hasn't heard from me in so long. She might call the police." Just barely, Megan held back her smile.

"So," he shrugged. "No one has a clue where you are, and in a few days it won't matter if they do. We'll be leaving here soon. We'll be able to start a new life together, just the two of us." Megan hardened then brushed her fingers across his thighs in case he had noticed.

"Leaving here? Why? When it's so quiet, so peaceful?"

Erik covered her hand with his, pressing it into his leg. "We can't stay here forever. This is my uncle's cabin. He'll be coming up for deer season. We'll have to leave next week."

"But," Megan protested, "what if I hadn't been ready? What would you have done then?"

His fingers squeezed into her leg. "Don't think about that. It didn't happen."

She wouldn't, couldn't let it go. "But what if it had?"

"I'd have flipped a coin," he replied matter-of-factly. "Heads, you'd have come with me anyway. Tails, you wouldn't."

"You would have let me go?" she breathed.

Erik shifted in his chair, he smiled too brightly, spoke too quickly. "How about another glass of champagne?" Reaching for the bottle, he began to pour her a glass, but she put her hand on his wrist, stopping him. Her voice was firm as she held onto his wrist; it forced a reply.

"What would you have done?"

He didn't meet her look. His head darted around until he saw the deer head hanging above the wall. Its sightless eyes demanded no answers. Focused only on those two pieces of yellow glass, his voice drifted. "You know most hunters can't kill a deer if they look into its eyes," he said quietly. "That's the first thing they tell you. Don't look into its eyes, just kill it and get it over with, no sense prolonging the suffering," he paused.

"I would have done what I had to."

Megan got cold, very, very cold. Ice slipped and slivered through her body, racing through her veins. Her skin felt heavy on her bones. She shivered, wanting to blank out his words, take back the truth behind them. Could she be more cold?

Erik watched her reaction with growing alarm. "Sweetheart, sweetheart, relax. It didn't happen. Everything worked out perfectly." He wrapped his arms around her body, trying to hug away the goose bumps that had suddenly appeared on her arms. Though he held her as close as he could, she continued to shiver, to shake against his body with little tremors. Stroking his hands through her hair, he tried to reassure her with the love in his touch. "We were doing so well. How can I make it up to you?" he pleaded with her.

The cold working its way through her body did a strange thing. It stopped spreading and started to focus. It snuck around her heart, smothering it, protecting it. There was no warmth when she smiled.

"Let me call Jean or text her."

"Using my cell, no way."

"A letter then," she responded. "Just a short note to let her know I'm okay."

He'd been so worried about her, and all she cared about was leaving him. Erik's concern for her died hot and swift. "Out of the question," he snapped.

"Think about it," she wheedled, playing her fingers up and down his arm.  "A letter could give us extra time. If Jean has called the police then they'll stop looking because they'll know I'm okay. Please, let me tell her I'm all right."

"You and your puzzle magazines," he sneered, "your love of secret maps and codes, I don't trust you that much, babe."

Megan kneeled on the sofa, leaning against him. Her breath tickled his hair. "Then you write it. I'll copy it over. We could send it out today. Please, it would make me feel so much better."

Erik fired his next blow. "What about your grandparents? Don't tell me you aren't concerned about them?"

Megan's face softened sadly as she thought about the two people she loved most in the world. She'd tried to repress thinking about them, concentrating only on escape, but now Erik's question hit her hard. Would she ever see them again? "I don't want to worry them," she said quietly. She thought of the confusion that had taken over her grandmother's eyes, the damage to her sanity if she found out what was happening to her granddaughter. "It's better if they think I'm safe at school."

But Erik wasn't done with her yet. "And that rugby schmuck?" he snarled. "Do you want to write a love letter to him too?"

"No! I don't care about Paul!" she cried out. "I just want Jean to know I'm all right. You showed me what Paul was like. You made me see what a mistake he was."

Erik stared down at Megan. She clung to his arm like a barnacle, but she wasn't lying. He could see that in her eyes. She really didn't care for that two-timing jock anymore. He smiled. She had a point. They would call off any search if they thought she was all right. It was a good idea, and since he got to write the letter, he couldn't see any harm. He brushed his lips across her forehead. "All right, sweetheart, you got your letter."

"Thank you, Erik, thank you," she whispered gratefully.

"You can thank me better than that."

Megan closed her eyes and kissed him. Her lips had gotten accomplished at lying, but as her body burned at the touch of his mouth, she wondered just whom her lips were lying to.