The vision rose in my mind of a midnight tryst in a barn, my body suffused with heat as I remembered the sensation of Kristoff's mouth caressing the flesh of my neck and breasts. But with that memory came another one: that of Kristoff silently withdrawing his mind from mine.
I didn't doubt that despite my physical flaws he desired me sexually... but a Beloved was supposed to be so much more than that.
How could I be anything to a man who didn't want me?
"Pia, you still there?"
"Yes," I said, clearing my throat and trying not to sound as if I were on the verge of tears.
Instantly, her voice was filled with sympathy. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have brought up the subject of Kristoff."
"No, it's OK. It's just that I had this strange dream this morning. That's what I was calling about. You remember the messenger I told you the vampires were going to send me? I dreamed he came, and somehow you were here, and so were Kristoff and his brother, and it seemed so real until I woke up."
"That's how dreams are."
"I know, but this was... well, different. Oh, hell, someone's at my door. I really don't want to see anyone." I snatched up a box of Kleenex and dabbed at my eyes as I moved through to the living room. I hesitated for a moment at the door, then scooted to the side to peek out of the window at the front porch.
"I'll go, then."
"No, it's OK. It's just a couple of religious people," I said, watching as a woman and a man slid a small pamphlet into the screen door before leaving.
"Bah. I usually tell them I'm a cannibal and they leave me alone."
"I tried that once. I told them I was an anarchist, and they just visited me every week to try to save me," I said, opening the door just enough to snatch up the religious newsletter, closing it quickly before slumping down on the couch next to the window. "So exactly how long will you and Ray be able to stay? The whole week that we planned, or will you guys want to go off on your own and make smoochy faces at each other?"
I didn't want to admit how much I'd been looking forward to Magda's visit. Although my job at a no-kill animal shelter specializing in elderly pets was satisfying, ever since I'd returned from my adventures in Iceland, life seemed to be... empty. It was as if a part of me were missing; something that I used to have was now gone, leaving me a shell of a person. I didn't expect Magda would change that, but she had become a very good friend, and I was cheered no end by the thought of her visit.
"No! That's the good part. Because Ray is taking a whole month off, I managed to talk my manager into giving me an extra week, so I'll have two weeks with you, and then one with my sister before we have to come back to San Francisco. That is, if you can stand us that long. Ray, hand me the basil, would you? No, the fresh stuff. Could you chop that onion for me? Sorry, Pia. We're making spaghetti."
"Sounds yummy. And stand you?" I laughed somewhat grimly. "I may never let you guys go home!"
"Oh, yes, we'll just see how long that opinion remains once Kristoff shows up and apologizes for being such a butthead." Her voice dropped suddenly. "Speaking of that... do you want me to tell Ray? About you being a Zorya and Kristoff and the you-know-whats and all the rest?"
I rubbed my forehead. Lately I seemed to always have a nagging, low-grade headache. "I don't think that's necessary. I'm not a Zorya anymore, and given this morning, I think I just need to face the fact that Kristoff isn't ever going to-Crap. Someone's at the door again."
"Use the cannibal line this time. I guarantee you it'll work."
"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested," I was saying even before I had the door all the way open. My excuse dried up at the sight of the man standing on the steps. "Gark."
"What?" Magda asked. "What about a park?"
The man raised an eyebrow at me. "You are Pia Thomason?"
"Ack!" I said, and slammed the door shut in his face. "Oh, my God, Magda, it's him!"
"Him? Him who?"
A shivery d¨¦j¨¤ vu sensation washed over me as I leaped over to the couch, shoving aside the curtain on the window just enough to peek out at the man. He knocked at the door again.
"Him the messenger. Good Lord, we've already done this!"
"We've done what?" Magda sounded confused.
"This, we've done this! This was the dream I had this morning."
Muttered conversation was audible on the phone for a moment before Magda uncovered the mouthpiece and said, "Honey, would you go down to the basement and get me that bottle of olive oil? The Italian one. Pia's having a crisis, and this may take a few minutes."
I heard Ray say something as he moved off to do Magda's bidding.