Chapter Four

"Would you change who you are if you could?"

The Graverobber knew he hadn't seen everything the world had to offer but he thought he'd seen about everything the city he lived in could throw his way. He was corrected when he walked in on Livvy wearing brown tweed trousers. That wasn't something he thought he'd ever see.

"Tweed?" he asked, eyes widened as he took in the sight of her standing in the middle of her room in trousers. It took him even longer to take in the chiffon, long bubble-sleeved shirt. She didn't look like herself. Aside from the boots and her hairstyle, there was nothing there to hint that this was Olivia Stewart. Then she scowled and he let out a relieved sigh. That was definitely Livvy.

"You could try knocking every now and again," she hinted. He just shrugged, strolled across the room and collapsed on her bed. He could practically hear her wince. "When was the last time you washed that jacket?" She was probably thinking about her clean sheets. Sticking her hands in a corpse never got to her but get dirt on her things and her left eye started to twitch. Maybe the right eye twitched, too. It wasn't as if he saw it very often.

"Weeks, months, who knows?" he said dismissively. "Why are you dressed like someone's grandmother? Got a date you're trying to impress?" Livvy began sputtering.

"A – a what? No! Shit, it's nothing like that at all. I'm just trying to look a little more legitimate than I usually do." She smoothed down her trousers although they were unwrinkled. The Graverobber propped himself up on his elbows.

"What are you getting into, Livvy?"

"Who says I'm getting into anything?" she muttered defensively. She moved away, sitting down at an old mirrored make-up dresser. The dark wood of the dresser was carefully oiled, the mirror polished to a high shine. That was when the Graverobber finally noticed what was going on. Livvy had cabin fever. The entire room was spotless. The hardwood floor had been recently cleaned and it looked like the headboard of her bed had been polished as well. The dark blue comforter was warm, as if it had just been pulled out of a dryer. It looked like she'd even alphabetized her bookcase. The single picture that hung on the dark cream walls had clearly been dusted, the wooden frame carefully tended to. The old fashioned picture of a woman and man that resembled Livvy probably would have been polished too, if that had been possible.

She'd been on a cleaning binge. She only did that when she was really anxious. Things clicked into place for the Graverobber. The call she'd gotten from some kid named Shilo three days ago, the way Livvy had been so distracted recently and now breaking out her mother's old clothes began to make sense. This was much bigger than a date.

"This is the first time you've ever tried to lie to me, Livvy. I hope it's for something important," he said flatly, pulling himself off the bed and striding toward the door. She swore quietly and he felt smug. They both knew he was using guilt to get answers. He didn't regret it at all.

"All right, all right, I'll tell you. Just hold on a second." Livvy shifted on the cushioned bench so she could meet the Graverobber's eyes properly. "There's this sixteen year old girl I'm trying to help out. Her name's Shilo and she's got a disease that makes it impossible for her to go outside. Her mother's dead and the only person around is her middle-aged father and I… Well, I sort of volunteered to be a female friend. She needs someone and it's not as if I don't have free time." The Graverobber just stared for a long time.

"You're kidding."

"No," Livvy said, frowning a little at his disbelieving tone. Then he started to laugh.

"Shit, Livvy, this is so like you I'm not sure why I'm surprised." He shook his head, fighting against the laughter. Of course, that just made it worse. "It's not as if your life isn't already complicated."

"I don't like talking about that," she said coldly. He knew that voice and his laughter abruptly died. He stared at the right side of her face, as if waiting for the curtain of hair to part. Livvy quickly shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I'm not… I'm fine. I just don't like thinking about it." He sighed. This was what came of having friends. Everything got complicated. Too bad he'd known Livvy since she was fifteen. He couldn't ditch her now. Besides, she was good for his business. There weren't many morgues that gave him access to bodies at such a low price.

"Yeah, I get it. But keep this in mind, Livvy. She's sixteen and curious. How long until she wants to see what you're hiding?" Livvy's face darkened and she turned away. "You're looking for pain. You're addicted to it."

"Leave. Please." He shrugged. It wasn't their first disagreement. She'd get over it eventually. He headed for the door.

"Be careful of Mercy, Olivia. Her qualities are a little more straining than anyone else knows."

"An entire city built on top of the dead."

"Livvy Stewart here for scheduled Shilo time." Olivia leaned against the buzzer, talking into the speaker just outside the gate of the Wallace household. What the Graverobber had said stuck uncomfortably in her mind. Maybe she was addicted to pain. This scenario could only end painfully, after all. Either Olivia would screw up somehow and be forcibly ejected from Shilo's life or Shilo would see her face and decide she didn't want her anymore. It wasn't just her face, though. There were shadows, secrets. Olivia shook her head as the gate creaked open. Better not to think about it.

Olivia had tried to present the image of a woman who was average and harmless. She thought perhaps the tweed and ivory chiffon could accomplish that. Her boots clicked against the stone walkway leading up to the front door, large carpetbag thumping against her hip as she walked. The bag was old and a little tattered but the only other large bag she had harbored instruments she had no intention of introducing Shilo to at any time. Before she'd left the morgue, she'd glanced briefly into a mirror. For a hopeful moment she'd looked like her mother, then she deliberately lifted the hair away from the right side of her face. Olivia's mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. Addicted to pain. Indeed.

Nathan Wallace opened the door and Olivia's smile became genuine. Nothing like a disapproving father figure to make her feel more like herself. "Good afternoon, Mr. Wallace. You look almost surprised to see me." At least, that's what she thought the emotion on his face might have been. He was not at all easy to read.

"Disappointed," he corrected. She smirked.

"I don't mind if you don't like me - "

"That's fortunate." Olivia pressed the heel of her hand to her heart.

"Ouch. Talk about an arrow to the heart," she said, although her tone was far from injured. If anything she was amused. So the man in the Stone Age Oxford shirt and tweed vest didn't like her. As if it mattered. The fact that she was wearing tweed as well conveniently slipped her mind. "I was going to say I don't mind because people generally don't like me."

"Except teenagers," he reminded her. 'And drug dealers' very nearly slipped out of her mouth. Olivia cleared her throat.

"Yeah. Except teenagers." Nathan's eyes narrowed suspiciously as if he could tell she was holding something back. She tried not to react. "Do I get to come inside now?" His eyes scanned her and immediately fixed on her bag.

"What did you bring?"

"Porn and alcohol." Olivia mentally slapped herself for letting that one slip. Damn sarcasm. Nathan definitely wasn't amused. She decided it was his own fault. If he hadn't been such an easy target she wouldn't be tempted.

"I'd like to think that was a bad joke but with you I can't be sure," he said tiredly. Olivia noticed the shadows under his eyes and felt a twinge of sympathy. Clearly this decision was tough for him, even if it was right. She decided to cut him some slack.

"Sorry. Look, everything I brought I cleaned. I washed the fabric squares this morning and my needles are always clean no matter what." Only one word registered with Nathan.

"Needles?" Olivia's mouth thinned as she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, Mr. Wallace, I'm teaching her about sharp objects. Today it's needles but if she does well we can move up to razor blades." She opened her bag and grabbed a few fabric squares to show him. "Quilting, you neurotic control freak. It's something my mother and I did together and I thought Shilo might like to try." Nathan winced.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean… Wait, neurotic?" He frowned at her and Olivia bit back a grin.

"I won't apologize for that one. You had it coming." His frown deepened. She sighed, moving her weight from one foot to another. "Okay, so we've exchanged insults. Do you think you could let me in now?" The frown didn't go away but Nathan did move back a little to allow her entrance. She brushed past him, noticing his scent as she did so. Antibacterial soap hit her first and then something familiar, something that reminded her of the morgue. Olivia frowned slightly. What was that?

"Shilo's been talking about you since you left." She turned back to look at him. He was still standing in the doorway, a distinctly lost expression on his face. "You left her a book last time. She loved it. Whenever I went to her room, she was reading it."

"I'm glad," Olivia murmured, not sure what other response she should give. He looked so sad but she didn't know what had upset him. She began to wonder if he was bipolar as well as neurotic.

"How did you know that would appeal to her? You barely knew Shilo." She cleared her throat. Olivia wasn't sure but she thought maybe Nathan was upset because she could so easily connect to Shilo. It would make sense. He raised her, loved her and yet a stranger seemed to understand her better. It probably hurt.

"I gave her a book with a character she could relate to. A sixteen-year-old girl looking for herself." Olivia glanced over her shoulder at the stairs, wishing she could leave this dark entry room and the man whose moods she couldn't track. She especially wanted to get out from under the eyes of yet another portrait of the former Mrs. Wallace. She stared accusingly at Olivia from above the fireplace, almost as if forbidding her to leave while Nathan was vulnerable. Olivia sighed, turning to look at him. "Teenagers are tricky, Mr. Wallace. The only reason I'm having such an easy time is because I'm new to her life. I could probably give her a plunger right now and she'd treasure it." A sound emerged from Nathan that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

"You are a very strange woman," he said. Olivia smiled.

"And not half as disreputable as you think. Probably. I guess it depends on how imaginative you are." Nathan let out that half-chuckle, half-groan sound again.

"You're about as comforting as organ failure," he informed her. Nathan closed the front door and walked toward the stairs. "I'd better get you to Shilo before I let that change my mind." Olivia made a sound in the affirmative, deciding not to test her luck anymore by opening her mouth.

Shilo's greeting was the opposite of Nathan's. The minute Olivia stepped through the door she found her arms filled with sixteen-year-old girl. Her arms wrapped around Shilo automatically, although it had been a very long time since she'd been hugged. Luckily she still knew how. She stared down at the kid's dark head, remembering how good it felt.

"Well, Shilo, if you didn't want to see me all you had to do was say so," Olivia joked. Sarcasm was the best defense. Shilo giggled and released her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to invade your space." She glanced around Olivia, a less than patient look on her face. "Need something, dad?" Olivia winced. Being rejected by one's daughter? Yeah, that was guaranteed to hurt.

"My number," she blurted out. Nathan and Shilo stared at her.

"What?"

"Er, I was going to give your father my number just in case. The spontaneous hugging made me forget. Sorry," she told Nathan, trying to will the confused look off his face. Eventually he got the hint.

"Oh, yes. Well, ready when you are." She gave him her number, all the while wondering why she'd tried to swoop in and save him. It wasn't as if he needed protecting. "Thank you for that." She blinked. He was looking at her with what she could only describe as warmth. It almost spooked her more than when he'd slammed her against the bedpost.

"No problem," she said dismissively, looking quickly away from him. Nathan quickly departed and Olivia was left with a very curious teenager.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Nothing," Olivia said quickly. "Anyway, I brought you something. You might hate this but I figured it was something you wouldn't learn from your dad." Shilo perked up at the prospect of learning something new.

"Awesome," she said, trying to get a peak into the carpetbag to see what the surprise was. Olivia didn't notice when she started staring at her and not the bag. "Livvy, what are you wearing?"

"What? Oh, this," she said, glancing down at her clothes. "It's not really my style, is it? It's just for your dad's benefit." Shilo's eyes widened.

"His benefit? You mean… you like him?" Olivia glanced over, perplexed by the kid's expression. She looked a little shocked and yet a little pleased. What…? Then Olivia choked on air.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no. I mean, yes but no. I mean - " Olivia stopped talking and pinched the bridge of her nose. Hard. "I find him to be an acceptable person but I'm not attracted to him. I dressed like this so he wouldn't decide I was a bad influence for you."

"Oh." Shilo looked away and Olivia got the impression that she was disappointed. She fought back a groan. They had to get off this topic fast before Shilo started thinking about how Olivia's name would sound if it ended with Wallace.

"Anyway, how do you feel about quilts?"

"I never thought about it," Shilo said. The teenager watched quietly as Olivia got out fabric squares, needle and thread. The older woman settled on the floor.

"It's something I got into with my mother. I liked to skip school a lot when I was a kid so she'd have me make quilts with her. It was what she did for a living, make quilts. She thought I'd hate it and go to school more often. I hated school more than quilting, though."

"Why would you hate school?" she asked curiously, sitting beside Olivia on the floor.

"Most people do," she replied lightly. "Now, we're not going to start with anything complex. I'm just going to teach you how to stitch before we actually try making a quilt. It's painstaking but you've got the time to practice." Olivia continued to explain the basics of quilting while Shilo listened.

Of course, that didn't mean Shilo would forget about how her father had stared at Olivia or how Olivia had stared back. It would take a lot more than quilts to make that happen. A hell of a lot more.