Part 1


© Copyright 2004
by Elizabeth Delayne
For the second installment
of Fault Line click here

The earthquake rippled through in the middle of the breakfast rush. Even hours later, Watchley looked shattered, more than buildings in ruins form the earthquake. Though Dave Perry had gleaned all he could from the news and what his employees tried to put together for him, nothing had prepared him for the humanity of the problem.

Homes, businesses were damaged, destroyed. People milled around on the street, still looking a little dazed and confused. Weary rescue workers still worked piles of rubble from old buildings that had not been able to stand. Sirens sounded in all directions.

He'd visited on a handful of extended stays years ago, before he'd risen to VP. Even in the destruction, Dave could tell it had blossomed around the cooperate business that staked itself in the area. The small buildings that had once housed hometown businesses had been converted into the new homes for national chains. Taller buildings surrounded the smaller downtown.

The offices of the Watchley branch were barely a mile ahead, but it had taken him nearly thirty minutes to navigate the last five. He pulled his rental car to a stop, half watching the cop that was directing traffic in a busy intersection. The traffic signal that should have been hanging over head lay dormant on the sidewalk where it had been moved. He frowned over it's size—much larger on the ground then it would have seemed in the air.

More rescue workers dug through the remains of a building down the street on his left. An ambulance waited, its lights flickering in a steady beat. The electric company had it's cherry picker machines out along the road repairing lines straight ahead and to the right.

Dave ran his hands over his face wearily. When his assistant had called him that morning he'd only just climbed in his car and turned on the news again. Had he heard about the earthquake yet?

No—but since that moment the earth seemed to be spinning at lighting speed. Before breakfast then, nearly dinnertime now. Their top executive in Watchley had been hospitalized. The main building in the area had received a good bit of structural damage. Phone lines, electricity was down. Communicating by sell, was at best, tricky. Direct lines to direct numbers, busy signals and out of service messages were more prevalent then actually getting a voice.

Still, business would have to continue—orders would have to be filled, contracts would still need to be negotiated.

Despite the fact that he knew the branch was in capable hands, and he knew them well, he was here now to help out.

It took him nearly ten minutes to drive down the next block where the officer stopped him.

"You can't go back there," he was told when he rolled down his window.

"I'm with the Glass-Fienstien Corporation. I was told my people were working at the building."

The officer took his credentials then passed them back. "They may be, but you can't drive down. Parking will be hard to find around here—but you can try."

Dave turned down the street and struggled for another fifteen minutes through the slow moving traffic before he found a spot, then he began the long walk in. Several officers stopped him, but let him through when he showed his credentials. He waded through a small crowd of people, started to ask for help, and then spotted Courtney.

She looked tired. Her brownish-blond hair was pulled back from her face, her face set as she spoke on her cell phone. Like him, she wore jeans and a t-shirt, though he wasn't sure he'd ever seen her so casual.

She lowered the phone and flipped it closed, her lips set in a firm line. "Courtney?"

Then she stopped, suddenly alerted to his presence. "Dave?"

"Been a long time," he stepped forward and ran a hand over her cheek, surprised when she turned into it. Only a year, he reminded himself. "I got here as soon as I could."

"Why?"

"I thought you could use some help."

She nodded, slid her cell phone into her pocket and turned to the woman at her side. "Val, this is Dave Anderson. He's VP," she tapped her pocket that held her cell phone. "Lewis is still critical. He was here this morning when it happened. They got everyone out. A security guard and handful a of employees. Besides Lewis only one other needed extended medical attention."

Dave reached up and instinctively slid his hand under her hair to massage the tense muscles on her neck. Lewis Davidson was her boss—number one man at the Watchley branch.

She was number two.

If … even he couldn't think that far.

She shifted away from him. "I can't think. Val—show Dave what we've been working on."

He watched her as she walked away. She was still slim, trim and appealing. Despite the fact that he'd always seen her as a professional, still respected her mind, she drew something from within him that made him smile.

"I can't believe that—" Val started. "I just can't take it in. He's a good man. His wife, she's … and Courtney—they are tight. You know?"

"She inspires loyalty."

"From the best of them. You're the guy."

He looked back at Val. "What?"

"The one from cooperate she doesn't want to talk about."

"Probably."

"She's pretty sore—physically. Maybe you could get her take a few minutes to rest." She looked around. "All of this is going to be here in the morning."

"Catch me up on what's being done here. I'll give her some time to let her think I'm actually here for the business."

Val smiled. "You do know here well."



Courtney had started to walk into the main building before she remembered it had been closed off. She sighed and leaned against the wall. She needed a chance to take it all in, to absorb all the tremors she'd felt during the day—not just those caused by the moving plates in the earth.

Lewis was … she stopped herself, unable to think about that, about him. The building seemed secure, but the wiring had started a small fire and a few cracks in the foundation needed some attention. It was possible that they would have to rebuild. She had a team at corporate looking into it.

She pressed a hand to her forehead. She needed an aspirin.

Seeing Dave didn't help. She couldn't take him on right now. She'd been avoiding him the last hour. He would help; he was good at his job, but she just couldn't absorb his presence. It always seemed to knock her off balance even when she had her feet planted firmly on stable ground.

Of course, the last year that they had been together, she'd been anything but stable. Her mother's problems had worsened. She'd felt daily much as she'd felt today, with her foundation shifting beneath her feet.

She reached in her pocket and took out the prescription. She stared at the label, at the bright red and yellow cautionary stickers. Val had picked them up from the pharmacy hours ago, but she hadn't let herself take one.

The image of her mother stumbling from the bedroom, meanness in her eyes, haunted her.

Courtney closed her eyes and prayed. She needed something.

"Courtney?"

Turning the bottle of pills—not so much to shield them as their purpose—she sighed and pushed herself away from the wall to face him. She told herself to relax, but couldn't soften her facial muscles.

Dave would see everything anyway.

She didn't fool him. He reached out, lifted her hand, and took the bottle. He glanced at the label and the date then looked up at her. Major pain pills—for major pain. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I—"

He lifted her hair, leaned over, and tugged the collar of her shirt. When he stiffened, she turned her head carefully to look at him.

"No wonder you pulled away when I touched you earlier."

"It's not as bad as it looks."

"No? What happened, Courtney?"

"Dave—"

"Are you going to tell me, or am I going to take you back to the hospital so they can tell me?"

"You wouldn't—"

"Try me," his features were hard as she'd ever seen them. "You're not in the shape to fight me this time. I have precedence here. Your health, at the moment, is vital to the company."

She felt it—the stab of regret, the ache. No, he wouldn't be worried about her because he loved her. Not anymore. Just as effectively as her mother had killed off her relationship with everyone around her, Courtney had done the same thing—with the one person, that at one time, had been the most important.

She sighed. "I felt something this morning—right before the earthquake. Something like the world getting silent. It was odd. I opened the door and stepped out onto the stoop just as … as it happened. Ruppie got out—I reached to grab him. I just ... went forward."

He stared at her, assessing her injuries, as well as considering the bottle of pills in her hand. The image he had in his head, the knowledge of the architecture of the buildings further down the street, haunted him. "You have front steps?"

"What else is there to know?" she asked with a small shrug. She wasn't going to describe how she'd been caught of balance, flung forward. By the time she'd been able to move, someone was putting her in a stretcher, taking her to the hospital. "They needed the beds. So I checked out."

"Did they tell you that you needed to stay?"

She frowned and stepped passed him. "Relatively speaking, it didn't matter. They needed the beds, I needed to be here."

"Did they give you a neck brace or something?"

She shook her head, then winced at the pain. "Nothing's broken. Just bruised. The doctor said it was a miracle."

"You've put in a full day, your staff is packing up. Let me take you home." He reached out, ran the tips of his fingers down her arm.

"You can't."

"Courtney—"

"No, it's that I haven't thought where to go. They closed off the street," she said wearily and ran a hand through her hair. "They closed off the street. Val went in a got some things for me before ... I forgot to get a place to stay. She offered her place, but she's got a houseful already. Several people on our staff reside in this neighborhood."

"Then I can get you to a hotel, find you something to eat."

She wanted to argue still, told herself to do so, but when she opened her mouth all she felt was a sad sigh. "I need to go by and see Lewis—I just need to see him."

He reached out, ran a gentle hand down her arm as he measured her with his eyes. "I'll take you."



She was surprised, when she looked at the clock two hours later, that Dave had smoothly navigated her through the rest of her evening. She'd visited Lewis and his wife for a few minutes, leaving them for some quiet time together as he was still in ICU.

Dave took her to get something to eat, found a place for her at a hotel closer to Sacramento while she stirred her soup she really didn't want to eat. Together they worked through a few plans, details and transitions-as if he knew that would help her feel better. She watched him handle a few more details, key them into his palm pilot, and then disconnect.

"You're doing an excellent job," she said at last, "balancing things. It's late for you."

He reached across the table and took her hand that rested on her own palm pilot. "We make a good team."

"That was never our problem." She watched as his fingers kneaded her fingers. "Why are you here, Dave—not for the business. Why are you here with me, right now?"

He ran his thumb over her own. "You're still part of my priorities, Courtney, even if you don't want to be."

"You walked away from me."

He nodded, his brown eyes intense as they focused on her. They'd dated nearly a year before he gave up on her. When he'd picked up a new girlfriend months later after he was promoted to VP, she'd felt her world shifting, falling a part. She requested a transfer and he'd signed it.

"You want to be here for me. I still don't know how to let you be. That was our problem."

Dave didn't bother to deny it, but he was relieved some to hear her admit it. He lifted his hand from her own and pressed a finger gently against her lips.

"Let me have the last word for one day. Turn yourself over into my hands. I know it's not easy for you, just as I know why you didn't take those pills today when you needed one. Just as I know why you're afraid to trust me."

"Dave—"

"Shh," he murmured. She reached up and took the hand from her lips and held it with her own. "Just give me a chance to take care of you. That's all I ever wanted to do."

For a minute she just studied him and wondered why his words were so easy to accept now then they would have been a year ago. Possibly because she was tired, already feeling the effects of the medication. Any other reason she couldn't deal with.

Releasing his hand, she picked up her cell phone. After keying in a few digits, she met his eyes and changed her voice mail.

"This is Courtney Retubani. Because of recent events, Dave Perry, Vice President at Glass-Fienstien is in town to handle certain matters. He will be happy to take your calls until I am available once again." After she left his number, she met his eyes. "That was just the number for the office. I won't expect you to handle my personal calls."

His eyes narrowed. "What kind of personal calls?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

*

Nothing he needed to worry about.

Right.

Dave pulled his rental car up just outside the area the police had sectioned off. It was dark, moving toward midnight. The streets were filled with workers helped by bright lights and police standing in as security from potential looters.

The central force of the earthquake had happened right under Courtney's world. The offices, her home.

She hadn't been able to search for her dog. If there was anything he understood about her it was that the more she was upset about something, the less she talked about it, the more she held within, and the less she let someone help.

She hadn't mentioned Rupert all day, except to explain how she fell down the steps in front of her duplex, as she lay there helpless ….

Dave closed his hands into fists and stepped up to the blockade. A policeman, club in hand, stepped up. "No one's allowed back here without identification. I curfew has been imposed for this area of the city, haven't you heard?"

"I haven't had a chance to catch the news," Dave said and pulled out his office credentials.

The officer glanced at them, then looked at Dave. "Late for you to be out, isn't it? They won't let you back onto the site. Vice President or not."

"I don't need to come in—I just wanted to see if anyone had seen a dog. Half Boston terrier, half dachshund. He got away this morning from one of my top employees. She lives around the block. Brown back, black head. He used to wear a jeweled collar. Fake collar, but pricy."

The officer smirked. "If someone's seen it, they wouldn't have forgotten that."

It took time, but several people had seen Ruppie—as Courtney called him. A few phone calls and several blocks of walking later, someone found the right person. Ruppie had been tucked away into a temporary shelter in a small gated area.

The poor, funny looking dog had curled up into a protective ball in the back corner. When Dave called his name, he lifted his head wearily. Maybe the little dog remembered, maybe he didn't, but he responded quickly and ran over on his short stubby legs—delighted to be rescued.

It brought back a dozen buried memories and feelings Dave had suppressed.

With Ruppie shivering from hunger and fear in the seat next to him, Dave headed to the closest all night diner for the eggs and bacon he knew Courtney treated him with.

"You miss Courtney, don't you?" Dave muttered, watching the road ahead of him.

He'd missed her as well. Before she'd asked for a transfer, when she was gone. Breaking things off with her had left a larger hole in his life then the one he'd accused her of creating when they were together. She was the kind of woman that carried around with her a large supply of spunk and energy, the kind that took over your life, your senses, your sense of equilibrium. She had a brain that calculated and spared with wit. She knew her strengths, and even though she sometimes hid from her weaknesses, she knew those as well.

She was kind. She had a big heart. She never forgot her need to grow and improve herself.

He couldn't remember the first time he had noticed her. They'd been in different departments. Every once in awhile their paths would cross. She was a brilliant business woman, a team player, a caring friend. He hadn't hesitated when he'd finally asked her out, and he'd never regretted doing so.

She had her problems. He hadn't realized until it was too late-hadn't noticed, possibly what he should have. Maybe pressing her would have made a difference. He'd been busy himself.

She hadn't known how to let him help, but he wasn't sure now that he'd made helping her a priority. He could look back now over a long line of regrets. He should have, he could have ... not so much that she could have or she should have—as he had done before. He'd accused and blamed her for a lot of things.

It was time to find out if he wanted her enough to do what needed to be done.

For the second installment
of Fault Line click here

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