Under Dust Painted Skies
Chapter OneZac pushed his thick hair back away from his sweaty face before he resumed moving bags from the grocery cart into the back of his car.
"If you think it's hot now, can you imagine what it's going to be like for the rest of the summer?" Kate asked, glancing at him over her shoulder as she helped him heft groceries into the trunk.
"I don't even want to think about it," Zac chuckled and then grimaced as he wiped his sweaty hands on the fabric of his shorts.
"Poor baby, you're all sweaty and gross," Kate teased, stretching up on her toes to peck him on the lips, "but I still love you."
Zac laughed and wrapped his arms around her thin waist. "You better," he grinned. "If I'm buying us a new house."
"Hey, you want to start a family just as much as I do! And we're going to need a place to put the little one," she retorted.
At her words, Zac placed his hand over her flat stomach. Though there was nothing growing there now, there would be soon if he had any say in the matter. "I say we go home and get started with the baby making."
"If you're anything like your brothers, I doubt it will take much effort," Kate laughed. "Besides, we have groceries to put away first."
Zac glanced back at the momentarily forgotten cart and groaned before releasing Kate from his hold. He moved the last of the bags to the trunk and Kate grabbed the cart to return it to its corral. He wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts again and dug his keys from his pocket.
He flipped through the metal keys until he found the right one. Then he glanced over to watch Kate walk back. "You could go ahead and start the car. Get that AC cranking," she called, teasingly.
"Yes, Princess." Zac rolled his eyes agonizingly.
"Don't roll your eyes at me, mister," she grinned as she met him at the back of the car. "I may not share my ice cream with you now."
Zac pouted his lips and wrapped an arm around her waist. Laughing, she stretched up to kiss his pouted lips. When she tried for another simple peck, Zac held her to him and deepened the kiss slightly. Knowing her aversion to public displays, he released her. She merely slapped him on the arm playfully.
"You may not have any ice cream left by the time we get home," Zac joked, wiping his face yet again.
"Then you best step on it," Kate grinned.
"Yes, ma'am," Zac saluted. He turned to go to the driver's side of the car, but stopped when he heard Kate gasp. Confused, he turned to look in her direction, but her back was to him. He looked beyond her and froze at the sight of the young woman.
There was nothing threatening about her at first glance. She seemed small and pixie-like; tiny enough that a strong wind might blow her over. Then his eyes went to her hand and he saw the gun. The gun that was pointed directly at Kate.
"What does she have that I don't?" the woman asked. The hysterical edge marred the usual soft lilt to her voice.
Stunned, Zac just stared at her, uncomprehending. Then his eyes zeroed in on the t-shirt she wore, which bore the symbol of he and his brothers' band. His mind had just enough time to realize she was, apparently, a fan, and he started to open his mouth to speak - though he had no idea what he planned to say - but it was too late. He heard the gunshots before his eyes could fully understand what was happening.
Kate fell backwards, seemingly in slow motion. Zac rushed forward to catch her, and as he reached her, he felt pain shoot through his body. He ignored it, shouting his wife's name as they both sunk to the hot asphalt of the parking lot.
Kate's eyes were wide with shock, and she managed to whisper his name weakly. "It's alright, Katie. You'll be alright," he said. His eyes assessed her and recoiled from the blood staining the thin cotton of her tank top. He searched for something to use to the stop the bleeding, but for some reason he felt suddenly weak.
He could hear shouting, though none of the words registered, and feel other people moving around him, but nothing seemed to make any sense. Despite her weakened state, Kate grabbed his hand, asking him to stay. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised as her eyes began to shut. "And neither are you. Stay with me, Kate. Stay with me."
"I love you," she whispered as her eyes drooped. Zac started to shout at her to stay awake, but he felt dizzy and everything seemed to darken around the edges and slowly began to fade . . .
Gasping, Zac Hanson shot straight up. His hands stretched out, as if to grab something, but even in his groggy state, he knew there was nothing there. As if mirroring his dream, his skin felt slick with sweat. However, this time the heat had nothing to do with it. His stomach churned, and his body ached from the memory of old injuries.
He ran a hand through his messy hair and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. "3 am," he muttered, shaking his head. He fell back against his pillows with a sigh. Though his mind and body were both heavy with exhaustion, he knew that sleep would not come now. It never did after the dreams.
He laid there for several minutes until his breathing was back under control. Only then did he sit up and drop his bare feet to the soft carpet. Stifling a yawn, he stood slowly, knowing that despite the early hour, he might as well start his day.
Padding across the room to the door, he walked the path that was familiar even in the dark to the staircase. "Coffee, coffee, coffee," he chanted under his breath. At one point in his life, the idea of drinking coffee made everyone who knew him cringe because of how jittery and hyper it tended to make him. Now, it was next to impossible to function without the constant caffeine. "Should invest in Folgers," he muttered as he made his way down the stairs.
The cool wood beneath his soles sent a shiver up his spine, but he shook it off as he made his way down the hall to the kitchen. He went through the motions of preparing a fresh pot of coffee. This was something he could do in his sleep now. Of course, that would mean actually sleeping, which was something he had done very little of for nearly three years.
As he waited for the pot to brew, he rubbed his tired eyes and pushed his hair out of his face. Glancing through the window behind the sink, he was surprised to see a light on in the house across the street. He was sure he would be the only person on the block up at this hour, aside from Mac and Brian and their new baby, Lily, but even their house seemed to be quiet from the outside.
He didn't know much about the man across the street, only that he'd moved in a few months ago. His mother would probably admonish him and call him unneighborly for not welcoming the new guy, but then he hadn't welcomed anyone to the neighborhood unless they showed up at his doorstep. He hadn't left the house in over two years for several reasons, so even when said neighbors did appear at his door, he was sometimes reluctant to answer it unless his assistant, Remy, was around to help smooth over the awkwardness of just opening the front too.
Pushing away thoughts of his self-induced seclusion from the outdoors, Zac prepared himself a cup of coffee, adding sugar and creamer until the rich, bitterness was sweet and sugary. He took a sip, savoring the flavors and hoping the caffeine would clear his mind.
The light across the street seemed like a beacon in the darkness. He found himself staring at it for several minutes before he shook himself out of his stupor. He had work to do, and since he was up, he didn't see much point in putting it off. He topped off his coffee and made his way downstairs to the basement.
The house was large, and for anyone else living alone, it might have seemed too big for one person. However, despite never leaving the house, Zac liked the illusion of freedom the space gave him. He missed the warmth of the sun on his skin or the cool breeze through his hair, but he felt safe inside. He could move about his self-induced prison without feeling like a prisoner. Each room held a purpose, and he made use of each one.
In the basement, he set to work on preparing his paints and canvas. He'd always enjoyed painting, but if anyone had ever asked him if he'd want to do it for a living, he would have said no. Music had been his passion for so long. That is, until the source of his greatest joy turned into the cause of his greatest loss.
He hated thinking about it, but it was hard to push from his mind any time he dreamed of that last day with Kate. They had been so happy, and everything was just so normal. Until it wasn't. He'd been on the cusp of getting everything he'd ever wanted until Brielle Jensen entered his life and took it all away.
What little he knew about her had come from statements made after the police apprehended her. She'd been a fan the band made up for three brothers by the last name of Hanson since she was eleven-years-old. Even now she probably still counted herself as one, despite her permanent placement in a mental facility.
People ranging from lawyers and doctors to her family and friends had tried to explain her actions that day, saying Brielle lost touch with reality or was severely ill. Zac didn't care. The reasons didn't matter. All he knew and cared about was the fact that Brielle Jensen had shot both him and Kate that day.
Zac's injuries may have been an accident, but Kate's were not. Those shots were aimed to kill. And she succeeded.
While Zac spent several days in the ICU, Kate had been declared dead at the scene, but for all intents and purposes, the Zac everyone knew died right along with his wife that day.
He hadn't secluded himself to the house right away. At first he tried to function in the real world after he recovered in the hospital, but the panic he felt whenever he was out in the open was impossible to shake. He found himself staying home more and more until he found himself unable to step outside the house.
That had been two years ago.
Now, he worked within the walls of his home. The music of Hanson had been abandoned after the attack. Zac was sure his brothers thought it was only temporary, but he felt no desire whatsoever to ever play or write music ever again. He found his new vocation both soothing and completely by accident.
A painting he made for a charity auction had caught the eye of a woman by the name Nanette Baker. She was an agent, specializing in art, and after the way Zac's painting sold at the auction, she made her interest known. At the time Zac had been confided to the house for nearly a year. They first spoke via the phone, and, later after his initial disinterest, she showed up on his doorstep.
While confused by his desire to sink into the shadows of existence, she somehow persuaded him that he should give her a chance to sell his art. For the most part, it was all very relaxed. Zac painted, sent her pictures of his work and she sold them. He'd mail them to her and she would get them to their new owners. Zac had no contact whatsoever with the customers, and that was just the way he liked it.
He'd been working on a new series for several weeks now. The sun was the common thread, and he had no doubt that this was brought on by his nightmares. The sun was always so hot in them, and often times he wondered if that day was really as hot as it seemed to be in his nightmares or if it was just an exaggeration of his imagination.
His current painting portrayed a swirl of melted color seeping across the dark asphalt as the sun beat down on it. The trio of pink, brown and white twisted and blended together as it melted out the side of a tipped over carton of ice cream. This, too, was obviously a throw back to his memory, for Neapolitan had been Kate's favorite.
The dreams had been more frequent lately, and he had no doubt it was in part because of the upcoming anniversary. It seemed impossible nearly three years had passed. The pain had decreased only slightly in that time, but for the most part it felt like it had happened only yesterday. Of course, revisiting it each night in his sleep couldn't help matters.
He forced his mind away from the source of his inspiration and instead focused on the work. It didn't matter where it came from. Whoever bought the painting would have no clue what inspired it. They only cared about how it looked in the end.
After working diligently for about an hour, Zac made his way back upstairs for a fresh cup of coffee. Though working kept his mind away from sleep, it couldn't completely keep the exhaustion at bay.
He prepared a new cup, adding sugar and creamer, and took a big drink, forgetting how hot it would be after drinking tepid coffee, and spit it out into the sink. His tongue burned and he grimaced at his own stupidity. He went to grab the milk from the refrigerator to sooth his scalded tongue only to find no more than a few drips left.
"Great," he muttered. He'd have to remember to add milk to his list of things to have Remy pick up for him tomorrow. With milk no longer an option, he grabbed a bottle of water instead and took a big swig, sighing as it soothed his scorched tongue.
After gulping down half the bottle of water, Zac screwed the cap back on and shoved it back into the refrigerator. He turned back to glare at the mug of coffee on the counter, as if it could feel the depths of his distain. "I'm going insane," he muttered, rolling his eyes at himself. "Talking to myself. Glaring at mugs. I'll be hearing voices next."
With a sigh, he moved to collect the offensive cup of coffee, but as he did so, his eyes slid the window once again. It was still dark. Sunrise was still a couple of hours away, but that wasn't what caught his eye. The light was off in the house across the street, but all was not still. If not for the faint glimmer of the light, he probably wouldn't have noticed it, but amidst the darkness the faint light called out to him. It took Zac several seconds for his eyes to adjust well enough to understand what he was seeing.
The faint glow came from the open trunk of his neighbor's car. He wondered with alarm if someone had broken into the vehicle because surely he would have noticed the light earlier. Of course, he had been more focused on the light coming from the house, and if his neighbor had been up, surely he would have heard someone breaking into his car. Zac dithered for a moment, wondering if he should call someone. He wasn't even certain of the neighbor's name, though, and calling the police seemed like a rash decision. Adding in the fact that he never left his home, he figured that'd likely pass him off as some reclusive crazy man.
As he considered his options, his eyes remained on the point of light across the street, so when a figure appeared suddenly, he jumped back slightly, bumping into the table and knocking over several items in the process. The clatter seemed loud and ominous in the darkness. Trying to be stealthy, Zac tiptoed back to the window and crouched down to see if the figure was still there. He squinted, but didn't see anything at the trunk of the car, though it was still open, so he let his eyes scan the street. Everything else seemed as it should be, but then as his eyes moved back toward the house across the street, he noticed someone at the side door of the neighbor's garage.
He was about to reach out for the phone until the figure seemed to take shape. Zac let out the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding in a whoosh as he recognized the figure of the neighbor. He knew the man by sight but not by name. Aside from the fact that his neighbor appeared to be a nocturnal being as well, it appeared nothing was amiss.
Relieved, Zac moved to stand to pick up the items that had fallen from the table, but he stopped short as he watched his neighbor approach the trunk of his car. It was only then that he noticed that the man was carrying something in his hand. The shape of the object was lost in the darkness. It seemed odd that his neighbor would be moving items to the trunk of his car at this hour, but then Zac shook his head, wondering why he was so concerned with his neighbor's activities. For all he knew the man could be going on a trip.
Rolling his eyes, Zac backed away from the window. He bent and picked up the items that had fallen from the table, which didn't amount to much more than a few pens. For all the noise they'd made, he'd expected silverware and maybe some broken dishes.
"Paranoid," he muttered, shaking his head. Somehow everything seemed so much louder and more nefarious in the dark. If he were smart, he would turn on the lights as he roamed the house, but then he didn't want his neighbors spying on him as he moved about in the early morning hours. "Hypocrite too," he added to his list of faults.
After the items were picked up, Zac grabbed his mug of coffee; sure it was plenty cool by now and headed back to the basement. Tired though he was, he decided he could probably handle at least another hour of painting. Then he could rest. Resting, of course, rarely consisted of any sleep. Usually, resting amounted to a couple of hours on the sofa watching TV. Firefly was his current distraction. He was sure Serenity would soon follow. If nothing else, Remy would be happy. They had both been given as gifts for Valentine's Day. Remy claimed Luca, her daughter, had insisted they buy him something, but the five-year-old was not the one who had sighed dreamily at the mention of the show or its male lead.
--
As expected, Zac found himself back upstairs after another hour of painting. When the colors all started to bleed together in his head, that was a big hint that either he'd been staring at the piece for far too long or his lack of sleep was finally catching up with him.
He told himself that he needed another cup of coffee, but truly his curiosity had gotten the best of him. As he prepared another cup of steaming java, his attention had been focused on the driveway across the street. After painting by dim light in the basement it took several seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they finally did, he was able to ascertain that his neighbor's car was no longer in the drive.
"Must have left on a business trip or vacation," he said to himself, reiterating his earlier thoughts.
Thoughts of a vacation filled his mind. The last time he'd been on vacation had been his and Kate's honeymoon. While he'd visited nearly every state and several other countries, most of those excursions could not be counted as vacations in Zac's mind. They had all revolved around the band. At the time he never would have considered it to truly be work, but the fact that during most of those trips he'd seen little beyond the confines of a tour bus or hotel room, only further proved his belief that they could not be counted as any sort of vacation.
Once his mug was filled for the third time and prepared to his taste, Zac made his way to the living room and slid into his usual spot in the corner of the sofa. He grabbed the remote and turned on the flat screen and moved on the next episode of Firefly.
After a couple of episodes, Zac noted that the sun had begun to rise, which meant he could expect Remy before long. He paused the DVD and stood, running a hand through his messy bed head. He was sure he was sporting what Remy referred to - out of Luca's earshot, of course - as sex hair. The sentiment had always embarrassed him, and he was sure that was why Remy still commented on it from time to time.
He stood and made his way back upstairs to the master bath. A hot shower always helped to awake his muddled senses, but, more importantly, it served to tame his crazy hair. After he'd washed his face, hair and body, Zac stood under the hot spray, letting it wash over him. It seemed to loosen his muscles, but with his eyes closed his mind wondered and another part of his body began to harden rather than loosen.
Absently, he stroked himself, hissing slightly. This was not part of his usual routine, but occasionally his mind would wonder - especially after seeing a particularly good-looking woman on television or in a magazine. Today, he thought of the one woman from Firefly - the companion. His fantasies always seemed to be in the abstract.
In the past he'd be right there in the thick of the fantasy, but these days he found himself slightly removed. It was weird, and he worried there might be something wrong with him. However, it wasn't typical conversation, and even if it were, he had no desire to talk to anyone about his masturbatory habits.
Once he'd finished his shower, he dried off and grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from his dresser. After pulling on his jeans, he paused to look at himself in the mirror. His eyes always seemed to go straight to the scars that marred his bicep and shoulder. The flesh was slightly raised and just a shade lighter than the rest. For the longest time, they had stood out in a stark pink tone, but time had faded them. To anyone else they may not have been noticeable, but as Zac's fingers traced lightly over the skin, he knew they would always remain at the forefront of his mind.
Zac pulled his eyes from his reflection when a child's voice called, "Zaccy!"
He smiled slightly and quickly pulled on his t-shirt. "Coming, Lulu," he answered as he left his room and made his way to the staircase. When he got there, he wasn't at all surprised to see Luca Evanston-Nolan waiting for him.
She gave him a toothy grin as he descended the stairs. "How's my favorite girl?" Zac asked.
"Sleepy," the five-year-old replied.
Zac patted her blonde curls as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Right there with you, kid," he admitted. "Where's your mom?"
"Kitchen," Luca chirped. Knowing Zac would likely head that way himself, Luca skipped ahead of him, leading the way. "Can we watch cartoons after school today?" she asked him.
"Sure," Zac shrugged as they entered the kitchen. There he found Remy Evanston looking through his refrigerator. "I hope you're not looking for something to eat," Zac commented.
Remy raised her head to look at him. The expression on face clearly stated that she wasn't stupid or desperate enough to eat anything from his refrigerator this week.
"I'm just checking to see what you left off your list," she replied sardonically. "You're out of milk."
"I know," Zac answered. "I just hadn't had a chance to update that list."
"Right," Remy said. It was obvious by her tone she didn't believe him. Zac rolled his eyes. He was long used to her antics. She didn't dote on him - not the way his mother did, but she did take good care of him and go above and beyond to fulfill her duties as his personal assistant.
After Remy finished perusing his refrigerator, adding more items to the list Zac had started, she stood up straight and tucked the list in her pocket. She glanced around the room, likely looking for anything else he might need, before her eyes zeroed in on the kitchen table. "What's with the mess?" she asked.
Zac glanced at the table. It didn't look all that messy to him. The salt and pepper shakers were turned on their sides and the pens he'd knocked off during the early morning hours were scattered about, but it was nothing too atrocious.
Zac told her as much, but the look she gave him, quickly put his arguments to a stop. "I bumped into the table this morning and knocked some stuff over," he finally admitted, shrugging his shoulders and toeing one of the legs of the table. He felt a bit like a child, but Remy had that look that all mothers possessed down to a tee. All she had to do was shoot him that look and he'd cave and tell her anything she wanted to know. Luckily, she'd never had the inclination to pry too far into his personal life, or rather his past personal life. Most of his days were now spent watching cartoons with a five-year-old.
"I take it you didn't sleep again last night," Remy commented, eyeing his face. He was sure he had tired bags under his eyes.
"I did, but it was more like a nap," Zac shrugged, as he watched Luca play with the magnets on the front of the refrigerator.
"Another nightmare?" Remy wondered softly.
Zac had been able to keep his nightmares a secret from Remy when they first met. She'd started as a friendly and helpful neighbor who had eventually morphed into his assistant after he'd given in to Nanette's insistent calls about painting. Remy had been between jobs, and it only seemed natural to offer her the position. She'd been running errands for him from time to time anyway. With no other job lined up and Zac's need for someone to help with both the work side of things as well as the personal stuff - like restocking his kitchen and closet, it had only seemed natural to offer her the position.
She'd been reluctant to take the job at first, and Zac knew it was only due to her pride. Eventually she caved to the idea, persuaded by the fact that she'd get to spend more time with Luca. That had been a year ago, and in that time Zac found it hard to keep his nocturnal tendencies from Remy's keen eyes.
"Yeah," Zac muttered. Remy didn't press the issue any further, but then she never did. She only knew that bad dreams kept him up most nights. She could only guess at the content of those dreams, but Zac was sure she had a pretty good idea. Zac didn't talk about Kate, but Remy had heard plenty of arguments between Zac and his brothers, who were not shy about mentioning her. Remy was smart enough to stay out of Zac's way on those days.
"I've got a painting downstairs that's ready to be shipped to Nanette," Zac said after a moment. "I'll go get it."
Remy nodded as Zac fled the room. He didn't make it but a couple of feet outside the kitchen before Luca was hot on his heels. She skipped up beside him, grabbing hold of his left hand with her tiny right. Zac glanced down at her and smiled.
She led the way down the stairs to his studio in the basement. Luca loved exploring this space. Sometimes Remy would leave Luca with him while she ran errands for him, and Luca would either bring some of her toys down to play with or would color, paint or draw herself while Zac worked on his own paintings.
As easy as it was to be around Luca, it always felt a little bittersweet. She was just another reminder of what he'd lost when Kate died. They had both been so ready to start a family. Zac had watched his brothers start their own families, and he'd wanted the same for himself. Now he couldn't even bring himself to step outside. It was really no wonder he'd been unable to save Kate that day. He was too weak.
Zac shook away these thoughts as he collected the painting he'd boxed up the previous evening. He glanced around and found Luca staring at his latest painting.
"Why's the ice cream all melted?" she wondered.
"The sun was too hot," Zac answered.
"Why didn't someone bring it inside?" she asked.
"It was too late," Zac replied, and though he knew Luca's questions were completely innocent, he couldn't help but find a double meaning there that brought him right back to his previous thoughts.
"Zac? Luca? You guys about done?" Remy called. "We have to get going."
"Yeah, we're coming," Zac called back. Then he lowered his voice. "Come on, Lulu. You don't want to be late for school."
Luca wrinkled her nose but didn't fuss with him. Instead, she headed back up the stairs while Zac followed close behind with the packaged painting tucked under his arm.
He'd never admit it, but these visits from Luca and Remy were easily the best part of his days. Unless one of his many family members called or decided to stop by, he was often all alone with nothing but his DVD collection and paintings.
He hated to see them go, and there was a part of him that always feared they might not come back, but he pushed those thoughts away. He couldn't let his mind go there. After all, it was the fear of what may happen should he step outside that had led him to his life of fear and isolation. He didn't want that for them. No one should live this way.
Except maybe Brielle Jensen, but that was assuming she deserved to live at all.
In Zac's opinion, she did not. He hoped there was a special place in Hell for murders and he found some sick pleasure in the idea of the girl who took away his whole life suffering there for eternity.