Eve - Iris Johansen [116]
“And I do.” He smiled faintly. “Did I really appear to be listening to voices? Who did you suppose was whispering in my ear? An angel or the devil? No, I’ve never heard either entity singing to me in this forest.”
“Nor anywhere else?”
His eyes narrowed on her face. “Why are you being so persistent?”
Say it. Don’t back down. “I was wondering if … Bonnie.”
“You thought that I was imagining I heard Bonnie’s voice? A voice from the dead?” He shook his head. “I’m not that crazy, Eve.”
“Crazy? I know someone who would argue that with you.” She tried to smile. “My friend, Megan, hears voices from the dead, and she’s one of the sanest people I know.”
“You believe her?”
“Sometimes it’s difficult not to believe her. Though I was more skeptical than you in the beginning.” She picked up her coffee cup. “But now I believe that there are many things out there that defy understanding or reality itself. You experienced one in that prison when Bonnie came to you.”
“What are you getting at?”
“You told me that you’d dreamed of Bonnie even after she was killed. How many times?”
He stiffened. “Not often.”
“Did the dreams come when you were in the depths of despair? When you desperately needed someone, something?”
He was silent, then slowly nodded. “Yes.”
“And what kind of dreams, John? Was she so real that you felt as if you could reach out and touch her? After they were over, did you feel a sense of peace?”
“God, yes,” he said hoarsely. “Bonnie was— Why are you asking me these questions?”
“Why do you think?” She met his gaze. “How do you think I survived after she died?”
“You dreamed of Bonnie?”
“I dreamed, I hallucinated, I had fantasies. I told myself I was doing all of those things in the beginning. I didn’t care. I had my daughter again. Then, gradually, I began to believe her when she told me that she was not a dream.” She smiled as she lifted her cup to her lips. “So if that’s crazy, then you’re not alone in your moments of madness, John.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “This wasn’t easy for you. It leaves you a little vulnerable. Why did you tell me?”
“The same reason that I told you all about Bonnie from the day of her birth. I felt perhaps I owed it to you.” She shook her head. “And to let you know that if you begin to think that visits from Bonnie are a sign of craziness, then at least you’re not alone in that particular madness. We share it.”
“And another experience that draws us together. As I said, if you’re trying to distance yourself from me, then it’s going to be more difficult.”
“I’ll worry about that later.” She gave him a level glance. “I’m very confused about how I feel about you, John. There are times when I’m suspicious as hell and wonder if you’re the best con man on the planet. There are other times when I believe you’re as crazy as Joe and Catherine told me and could be a Mr. Hyde waiting to strike. But I have to rely on my instincts where Bonnie is concerned. I believe you loved her.”
He inclined his head. “And so you’re willing to take a chance on me.”
“Yes, because I believe she must love you, too.”
His head jerked back as if she’d struck him. “I wasn’t expecting that. I don’t deserve her to feel anything for me. I wasn’t there for her.”
“Maybe it doesn’t matter to her.”
“It has to matter.” His voice was suddenly rough. “It matters to me.” He pushed back his chair and strode over to the front door and threw it open. He stood framed in the doorway, his legs parted, the moonlight glinting on his dark hair, gazing out into the darkness. “I’ve had enough talk about Bonnie, and voices, and things that go bump in the night. All I want to think about is getting Paul Black and killing the son of a bitch. Why doesn’t he call?”
Eve could see the barely contained violence in every muscle of his body. Yes, it did matter, and the guilt and blame he felt must be a constant thorn. She stood up and started to stack the dishes. “You can’t want it any more than I do. But I guess I’m more accustomed to things that go bump in the