“Mmm.” Paulie shifted slightly, her breath warm on my shoulder.
“She suggested we get married, and I reckoned that was a good idea. I’ve never been like Rupert—interested in a number of women—and Rose was, after all, more worldly than me. So we announced our engagement and set a date for the following year. Almost immediately after that, I realized I’d made a mistake. What I’d thought was a worldly woman was one who wanted absolute control over me, what I did, what I wore, who I saw. When I thought she was settled and centered, I didn’t realize she was simply set in her ways and unwilling to compromise. We started fighting, at first over silly things, but she would never let anything go. The arguments increased and became more serious. I actually suggested that we put off the wedding while we sought couple’s counselingto work out our issues—she refused, saying that we were two intelligent people, and if we couldn’t work things out by ourselves, then no one could help us. This went on for months. I was miserable. I think now she was just as unhappy as I was, but for some reason she clung tight to the wedding as a point of salvation.”
Paulie murmured something unintelligible.
I stroked her arm, feeling a sense of comfort from her nearness despite the bad memories. “Four months before the wedding, I decided to break things off. I knew it would be the best thing for both of us, but before I could do so, Rose was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Quite an aggressive cancer. Naturally, I couldn’t leave her then. She became a different woman—distant and cold and bitter. I could understand it; after all, she’d just been given a death sentence. I stayed with her to the end, but by that time she was telling me daily how much she hated me.”
The room fell silent. My heart ached at the memory of that dark time. “I know it was the cancer and harsh drugs talking, but it still hurt. Around others, she was fine—calm and collected, and saying she was ready to face her end. But when we were alone, she was simply... cruel.”
My throat closed up a little. I gave a cough to loosen it up.
“I didn’t tell anyone how she had changed. I didn’t want them thinking of her being so hateful. I didn’t want to remember her that way. We did have some good times, after all. And of course, all of this meant that everyone—my family, her family, my friends—all believed I was deeply grieving her loss. I couldn’t tell them the truth. But I can tell you, because I know that you will understand.”
I waited for her to say that she wholly and completely understood why I did what I did, and that she thought it was damned nice of me to keep Rose’s memory positivedespite what I’d gone through, and many other suitably nice things, but Paulie was silent.
Horribly, wrenchingly silent.
“You don’t... understand?” I asked at last, rising slightly on one elbow to peer into her face.
She was sound asleep, her mouth open slightly, a tiny little puddle of drool forming on my arm.
I’d sexed her into sleep. There was something satisfying about that, even if my soul baring had been so uncaptivating that it had put her to sleep. I closed her mouth, wiped up the drool with the pillowcase, and rolled her over onto her side, spooning behind her. She murmured something and wiggled backward into me.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” I said, allowing myself to sink downward into sleep. “I’ll explain it all then, and you will stop worrying that I’m pining for a woman I haven’t loved for a very long time.”
The following day (today), was hectic, to be sure... Ah. There is Paulie, at last. I will resume this at a later time.
Paulina Rostakova’s Adventures
JULY 27
4:42 a.m.
San Francisco, California, hotel room
I can’t sleep. Stupid body not being able to get rest when it needs it. Yesterday was... hoo, baby. I can’t remember a worse day in a long time. But I’m foreshadowing again. Let’s go back to the beginning of the “hoo, baby” bit, which was yesterday morning.
“Did you hear?” Melody asked when I rolled out of my room in Salt Lake City (which didn’t get used, thanks to Dixon being the Irresistible Mr. Sexy Pants), deposited my luggage with the crew, and with the great big wads of veil in hand toddled out to the Thomas Flyer. Melody paused and added, “That’s a very pretty dress.”
“Thank you.” I did a pirouette to make the sky blue skirt, which was heavily pleated, swirl out. A coat cut in what the wardrobe ladies described as military style hit me at midhip, while the blouse underneath was a pretty pale cream embroidered with matching blue flowers. They had tried to convince me to wear the stiff collar similar to the sort that the men wore, but I felt like I was being strangled in it, so I had been given a wide lacechoker to wear instead. I plunked the hat on my head and began to wind the veil around it. “Did I hear what?”
“Hmm?” Melody looked down at her plain navy blue walking skirt, white shirt with stiff collar and tie, and knee-length coat with black piping. “I don’t know why the wardrobe people thought I needed to dress in such a utilitarian style. I understand I’m supposed to be the bluestocking, but really, would it hurt my image to have a pretty embroidered blouse like you have?”
“You’re smaller than me, but if you like, I can lend it to you to wear another day. Maybe under a jacket it wouldn’t look too big on you,” I offered generously, feeling quite the stylish Edwardian lady as I climbed into the passenger seat.
“No, that’s all right.” She got behind the steering wheel and started up the car, nodding when a frazzled-looking crew member came over to tell her we were going third today. “I’ll stick with what they made up for me. After all, I don’t mind being the studious and serious member of the team... which is odd, considering that now it’s just you and me.”
“Yeah. It’s so quiet here.” I glanced at the dash cam and gave it a toothy grin. “What were you asking me about?”
“Oh!” She turned to face me, clearly excited. “We’ve lost more people!”
“Lostmore? You mean people left the show?”
“Yes! The Ravishing Romeos’ car wouldn’t start this morning, and when Graham went to look at it, he said the whole engine had been corroded by some sort of acid. There’s no way to repair it, and they can’t replace it easily since the engines were custom-made to fit in the old cars.”
“Holy crapballs! Someone sabotaged them? Is Graham sure it was sabotage and not just... I don’t know... some sort of engine meltdown?”
“It was sabotage.” Melody shifted us into gear when someone waved us forward. Ahead, just taking off, was the car with Dixon and the possibly nefarious Anton (I really needed to have a talk with him to find out once and for all if he was in my father’s employment). Following them were the German ladies, and behind us, just getting into their Daimler, were Melody’s parents. Bringing up the rear was the other English team.
