Just One Taste Part 35

No rest for the wicked, No friends.h.i.+p, no love.

A life bare and barren As the full moon above

The future awaits, A scant week of grace, Succ.u.mb to temptation In this holy place.'"

Daniel put the paper down. "It's not Tennyson."

Alice surprised him once more.

"'Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light; The year is dying in the night...'"

Alice stopped and took a little bow. "I could go on. I had to memorize it for a Christmas pageant when I was in the eighth grade."

The words had always resonated with Daniel, particularly the line 'Ring out false pride in place and blood.' That had been his father's affliction. And his own.

"It's one of my favorites. I've had a lot of time to read."

"Then you must be the one who knows everything."

"Not hardly. Gosford's curse, for example. I do know the king he refers to is my father, "King" Merrill. Ephraim Merrill doesn't want me to succeed in destroying his work. He actually told me so."

Alice looked uncomfortable as she s.h.i.+fted in her chair. He knew he'd tested her boundaries. Gone far beyond them. Only yesterday she'd never thought that psychic ability was anything more than a ratings grab on a TV special. That time-travel involved magic portals and faeries somewhere in Scotland. That the Devil wore a blue dress. Now he was invoking Casper the Unfriendly Ghost.

She picked at the sleeve of her ribbed sweater, not meeting his eyes. "You've seen his ghost?"

"Just once, and that was enough. He and Gosford were so busy arguing, I couldn't make much sense of what they were saying. It was a long time ago."

"They were actually together?"

"In death as they were not in life. More of the Devil's perverse sense of humor. I gather unless I'm successful, they'll be yoked together forever. It's almost worth it to continue the 'fruitless seeking' every forty years."

"Forty's a pretty popular number in the Bible," Alice reflected.

"Believe me, I've researched it. It stands for a period of 'probation, trial and chastis.e.m.e.nt.' Forty years was considered to be one generation. I've lived through five."

"It also stands for a time of preparation. To receive grace from G.o.d. I took a comparative religion course in college."

She looked embarra.s.sed. Modern people were very hesitant to discuss religion, Daniel had observed.

It didn't stop them from killing each other over it, though.

"Well, I don't even get a full week of grace according to the poem. Just six days. At least that's how it's always been."

"The last stanza. Where do you think the 'holy place' is?"

"I can tell you where it isn't. I've hit the two Protestant churches in town, and the graveyard, too. The Catholic Church wasn't built when the poem was written, but I've tried there anyway."

"What did you use for the temptation part?"

"Gosford was a leader of the Temperance movement in town. I thought he might mean liquor. I tried all the bars in 1935. When I was here in the seventies, I broke into the Baptist church and drank some Jack Daniels in the sanctuary. And smoked a little dope."

"Daniel!" she sputtered, sounding shocked. He lightened when she grinned and waggled a finger at him.

"The thing is, Gosford had a co-author of the curse."

Her brows knit. "The Devil, I presume. Well then, how will we know what's holy to the Devil? Oh my G.o.d! Maybe he meant one of your father's brothels?"

"Tried that too. Tried 'em all. 1895. Of course my father was dead by then. Someone else owned them. They're all closed now, of course. Merrills Mills doesn't have a wh.o.r.ehouse I don't know about does it?"

"There's just my hairdresser Janine, but she gives it away for free." She pushed a loose curl behind her ear in frustration. "This could mean anything, couldn't it?"

"Yup."

"It's like some sort of a riddle. A trick. I'm so sorry, but I can't think of anything that might help you."

Daniel nodded. He hadn't really expected anything different.

"You wouldn't...I mean, you're not going to ask me to have s.e.x in the cemetery, are you?"

Daniel roared with laughter. "As tempting as that would be, even I have my standards. And before you ask, church pews are too hard. You'd get splinters in your pretty little a.s.s."

"It's not so little."

"Let me see," he said. "Just to make sure."

"Daniel! Not in the library!"

But he overruled her. Before she could protest further, he hauled her over his knee and flipped up her skirt.

"I thought," he said when he could find his voice again, "that you were going to put your panties on."

"I changed my mind," she replied, her voice m.u.f.fled.

He felt his manhood rise dangerously. But she was right. This was neither the time nor the place. Her a.s.sistant could come downstairs any minute. Daniel knew that Jamie was absolutely dying of curiosity upstairs, and possessed of a very strong matchmaking gene. Alice would have a tough time explaining how she let him slip away. Reluctantly, he righted her and settled her in his lap. She fit too perfectly.

They were quiet for a few minutes, content. Her hand was over his heart. If she were psychic, she'd know it was hers, maybe for eternity.

"What happens to you when you're not here?" Alice asked suddenly.

He shrugged and kissed her forehead. "I move around a lot. Travel some for my job. I can't really stay anywhere too long. I never age. After a while, it becomes rather awkward. Like there's The Picture of Dorian Gray hidden somewhere in my closet. Right now I live in Boston, but I've been there quite a while."

"Maybe I could visit you. It's not that far."

Daniel shook his head wearily. "'No friends.h.i.+p, no love. A life bare as barren as the full moon above.' You'd never find me. They won't let you." He let his arms drop to his sides.

Alice stood up, almost knocking them both over. "I hate them! How could they do this to you?" She glared at the empty wall as though Daniel's two ghosts were still there.

"I did it to myself, Alice. I didn't consider my wife's wishes. She wanted to end our marriage. Go home to her father. And I wouldn't let her." He got up too and shoved the papers into his pocket. Alice put her arms around him, as if she knew he needed her soft warmth, and not only because it was so cold in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

He sighed in frustration, but made no effort to get away. She seemed to melt into him, a caramel morsel from the wild russet curls on her head to her brown high-heeled boots. Even with the extra height, he towered over her. For the first time in years, he felt protective over another human being.

And knowing her, touching her, loving her had caused hurt for both of them.

Alice finally broke away. "I'd better get back to work. I brought the book down here. I thought maybe if you were entirely alone with it, you might have better luck. No distractions."

"It's worth a try. I don't suppose..."

"What?"

"I stole it before. In 1935. My first day back. I took it to the town dump and put it in the burn pile."

Alice looked at him. "They've closed the dump, Daniel."

"I know that. There's a transfer station now. But in the bad old days, I put the book in the fire myself, Alice. I watched it burn."

Alice narrowed her eyes. "This book?"

"This very one. When I went back to the library the next day, it was back on the shelf."

"How can that be? Are you sure it's the same book?"

Daniel picked it up and turned to the frontispiece. There, in faded black ink in a spiky copperplate script, was his father's inscription: Presented to the good citizens of Merrill's Mills by Ephraim Daniel Merrill. Wisdom outweighs any wealth. ~Sophocles "My father was a self-taught man. Nothing meant any more to him than education. Except money, of course, the hypocrite. The books, the library, they were designed to give him more consequence. Like a PR campaign. But he died before they could redeem his reputation. I think the folks in town were too smart to be suckered by a pile of stones and a bunch of books anyway."

"Do you want to steal the book again?" Alice asked, worrying her lip like she did when something upset her. He longed to kiss that plump lower lip to make her forget the trouble he'd brought to her orderly life.

Daniel shook his head. "I don't think it would do any good. I stole it every day for a week. Threw it in the river. Set it on the railroad tracks. Tore it up with my pocket knife. You've seen Groundhog Day, right? Just like that."

"That's just not possible."

"Sweetheart, you're forgetting who you're talking to. None of this is possible, yet here I am."

She stood on her toes and kissed him. He felt all her heart fill with misplaced hope and desire. "I'm glad you're here," she said softly. "And if you can't change the words today, I'll help you get rid of the book tomorrow."

Chapter 8.

Alice had offered to keep the library open late for him, but all Daniel wanted to do was take her to bed. And eat. But mostly take her to bed. He supposed it wasn't very resourceful of him not to take advantage of his relations.h.i.+p with the librarian this time around, especially if it meant it might mean his last time around.

But he was sick of sitting in the Reading Room. And now half-frozen and sick of sitting in the Meeting Room. He hadn't gotten anywhere with the book, as it sat like a malevolent toad on the table. Daniel had returned it to its spot on the shelf before they left.

Tomorrow would be tricky. The library closed at two on Sat.u.r.day, and there was a kids' Halloween party planned around noontime. Alice had promised he could "liberate" the book afterward, or stay in the library as long as he wanted. Right now he was partial to theft and spending his last day in Merrills Mills with Alice, preferably in her bed.

They stopped at the grocery store on the way to Alice's apartment, since neither one of them was interested in a peanut b.u.t.ter sandwich on stale bread. He was reminded how different the Merrills Mills Market was from the general store of his youth. Not only were the shelves stocked with everything imaginable, but the market offered hot entrees, sandwiches and decent pizza. He could vouch for the latter, even when reheated in the microwave.

After a mini-debate, they settled on containers of corn chowder, crusty French bread, cheddar cheese, salad from the salad bar, and a bakery blueberry pie. Two bottles of cheap champagne, too, the best on offer, although what they were celebrating was not exactly clear to either of them. Alice picked up bagels and juice for breakfast, and steaks and asparagus for Sat.u.r.day night.

As they waited in line, Daniel was under the distinct impression that everyone from the bagboy to the store manager to the baby in an infant seat with its finger up its nose at the next check-out was giving him the once-over. Some things never changed in a small town.

When Alice took out her debit card while Daniel was distracted by the inevitable pop tartlet headline on the cover of People, the temperature dropped inside the store. Daniel knew he'd somehow failed a test.

"Here, let me."

Alice looked alarmed. "No, I've got it."

"Really. I want to."

"You don't have any money," Alice gritted through her teeth.

He looked at her in surprise. "Who says?"

"There was no money in your wallet. No credit cards."

"I don't carry my money in my wallet. I lose it all the time." He pulled out a thick wad of bills, held together by an antique silver money clip. Leaning over he whispered, "Sorry I was slow to step up." He pointed in the direction of the magazine rack that had captured his attention. "There are other people besides you who don't wear underwear."

Alice looked stunned as he peeled off two hundred dollar bills from what seemed to be many more.

"I never know what might come up," Daniel shrugged. "I might meet a pretty girl, for example, and want to have dinner with her." He winked.

"That's too much, sir," the cas.h.i.+er said, handing him back one of the bills and the change from the other.

"I hope you don't get mugged in the parking lot," Alice said as they rolled the cart to the car.