Darkling (3 page)

“Sure thing.” Donald pushed open the door and held it for Annie. “You're gonna love it here,” he said as they left the house.

I glanced at Cora, and I wondered if I had ever seen her happier. She was deeply invested in Annie's tenure with the Hendersons. Despite the truth that all the years had handed Cora, she still believed in a happy ending.

“Mother, may I go and ride?” Erin stacked her empty saucer on top of the other. She was a fanatical equestrian. She rode every day and thought of little else. It was all I could do to keep her mind on her lessons, but I'd learned to associate countries, cultures, historical facts, and even math with horses. Anything horse-related held her attention.

“You may.”

“Thanks!” Erin bolted from her chair, gave Cora a squeeze, and sprinted from the room. She was slender but solid, and as she pounded up the stairs to her room to change into her riding clothes, I realized she likely weighed more than Annie. One thing for sure, Berta's cooking would put some meat on Annie's bones. When the children were gone, Berta sighed. “I don't know what to do, Cora. Margo is determined to dislike her.”

“Annie is invading her territory.” I understood it clearly. Bob and Berta were dream parents. Margo had no desire to share. “Margo is threatened by Annie. They're the same age, and now Margo has competition. It's a hard place for her.”

“That's unacceptable, Mimi. My children have everything and Annie has nothing. I don't want them to grow up to be selfish.” Berta picked up the stack of dishes. When Cora moved to help, Berta shooed her away. “You were headed out the door. I can manage this.”

“Your children are exceptional, Berta. That's why I wanted Annie to come here,” Cora said. “Give them time to adjust. Annie is almost grown, and so is Margo. This will be hardest on them. The younger ones will view Annie as a big sister. Mimi's right. Margo sees her as competition.”

“I won't tolerate selfishness.” Berta almost dropped a bowl of melting ice cream, but Bob caught it.

He took the dishes from her hands and put them on the table. “They're still kids. Children
learn
to be givers, they don't pop out that way.” He grabbed Berta's wrist and pulled her into his lap. He kissed her neck until she laughed. “They'll get used to Annie and before you know it, she'll be part of the family. Just like Mimi.”

“Bob's right,” I said, warmed by his words. I
had
become part of the family. I picked up the dishes before Berta could. “Annie's going to stick out like a sore thumb in this family, but everyone will adjust.” I, too, had a darker coloring and was aware of the stares that came my way whenever I was in town with the Henderson brood.

Berta kissed Bob on the forehead and pushed to her feet. “She's a beautiful girl, Cora. We'll help her as long as she wants to stay.”

Cora patted Berta's hand. “I knew I could count on you.” She found her keys in her purse and shook them with a sigh. “I think she'll be a rare blessing.”

3

After Cora left, I wandered to the front porch. The view never failed to move me, either to joy or melancholy. The front lawn of Belle Fleur slanted gently for a quarter mile down to the bay. Clusters of live oaks contrasted dark green against the bright green August grass. Bob had given me free rein to plant Oxonians and resurrection lilies around one of the oaks as part of a history lesson, and come next spring, my special garden would show life. My gaze wandered down to the edge of the beautifully maintained lawn, where marsh grass danced on the breeze all the way to the water.

The sky, a lighter shade of steel, pressed down on the bay. The storm still hovered out near the barrier islands, a wall of gray so dark it looked almost like night. It was only three o'clock. Far too early for darkness to fall.

At the edge of the water, Donald showed Annie how to cast a lure past the marsh grass. Their antics made me smile. While Berta and the girls still missed California, Donald had adapted to his new home. He loved the freedom to fish and roam. The Hendersons owned a section of land, six hundred and forty acres of pine timber, pastures, sloughs, marshes, natural springs, a creek, and the old dilapidated hotel, a place of legend in Coden. I stepped off the porch and walked down to join Annie and Donald. While Berta was the mother, I shared in the responsibility for the younger children.

Casting a glance over my shoulder, I noticed Margo in the second floor window of her room. She, too, studied Donald and Annie, but if her expression was any indication, her thoughts were far from pleasant.

She saw me staring up at her and pulled her curtains closed. Her window was like a dead eye. The rest of the house, a warm butter yellow with green shutters, was open and inviting. Shaking my head, I changed course and started down the path that led to where the old Desmarais family had planted the original gardens. Local legends said the family arrived from France in the first half of the nineteenth century with the dream of creating flower gardens to make perfume. The subtropical climate of South Alabama allowed a growing season unheard of in the French region where the family originated.

Though nearly two hundred years had passed since the Desmaraises settled in Coden, many of the plants had survived. Despite my bulb patch, birds, not plants, were my thing. While I couldn't name the exotic flora that bloomed unexpectedly on the Belle Fleur grounds, I could appreciate the beauty, especially those varieties hardy enough to survive the sweltering south Alabama summer. Shades of yellow and orange peeked out from the tangle of vines as I sauntered toward the old hotel.

Berta had taken an interest in the gardens, and I could see where she'd fought hard to clear some of the beds. If anyone could tame the vegetation, it would be her. She was iron-willed, a trait I appreciated. She demanded respect and obedience from her children, but she tempered her expectations with love. Berta made my job a pleasure, and I had come to believe I was a big help to her. I enjoyed our time in the kitchen, cooking and talking. She missed California, but she wasn't the kind of person to whine. She had begun to build a new life. I admired that.

The path wound through the dark green forest of trees, undergrowth, vines, and some valuable plants. Twenty minutes later, I came upon the ruins of the old hotel, a plantation-style building with granite columns of a five-foot circumference down the entire front. Above the wide porch were balconies along the second and third floor, though the stairs to the upper levels were gone. A natural hot spring had fed water to private baths and from what I gleaned from local tales, there had been croquet courses, tennis, water-skiing from a natural bayou that was deep enough for large sailboats to dock at the front lawn of the hotel, and then the darker activities of gambling, hard drinking, and sex—the romantic kind and the acts money could buy.

It took little effort to imagine the place in perfect condition and filled with Hollywood royalty. Cora said Lana Turner had been a regular when she was very young. The Andrews Sisters had sung there during the war. Paradise Inn had been a place to splash and play, and also for assignations. There was—and still is—only one road down to this part of the coastline, and no one today or in the past would choose to walk through the marshes in an attempt to gain unauthorized access. Alligators own that marshy land.

Bob had killed one in June when it came up onto the front lawn. The sheriff, Benny Delchamps, had issued the order to execute the reptile because it displayed aggression toward Margo. Or so the girl had said. In my experience, the gators did everything in their power to stay away from humans. Margo had insisted the six-footer had lunged at her as she walked along Shore Road. Bob had shot it with a degree of expertise that surprised me.

Thinking of the gator made me anxious about Donald, so close to the edge of the marsh. Annie wouldn't know to be alert for the reptiles. I threw a last look at the hotel and turned back. My sense of anxiety grew, though I knew it was unfounded. Still, I pushed from a brisk walk to a jog.

When I came out of the woods and onto the edge of the lawn, I thought my heart might choke me. Donald ran toward the house. His blue eyes were wide with terror, and he ran almost as if he were in a trance. He didn't see me at all.

“Donald!” I called out to him and ran to intercept him. “What's wrong?”

He seemed not to hear me.

“Donald!” I reached from him and caught hold of his shirt. “Donald!”

His eyes, blinded by some inner fear, turned toward me.

“Donald!” I shook him lightly.

He drew in a deep breath and for a split second I thought he might cry out, but he stopped himself. It took real effort, I could tell, but he swallowed the scream. Instead, he clung to me, holding me so tight I almost couldn't breathe.

“You're okay. Donald, what's wrong? Where's Annie?”

He turned to look back at the water. Annie stepped out from behind a tree, concern on her face.

“Donald!” she called out to him. “Are you okay?”

“What happened?” I tried to focus him on me, but he kept twisting to look at Annie. When she was abreast of us, he finally relaxed.

“I'm not afraid,” he said. He eased back from my arms, but he still clung to my hand.

“Afraid of what?” I'd never seen him in such a state.

“Of anything.” He looked at Annie but then dropped his gaze in what seemed embarrassment. “I'm not a baby.”

“Of course you aren't,” she said, kneeling so that she was eye-level with him. “There's nothing to be afraid of. You aren't a pantywaist, are you, Donald?”

Her tone was off. It seemed to hold a warning, but of what I couldn't determine. “Did you see an alligator?” I asked.

“Maybe,” Annie said. “We saw something. Or maybe we just imagined it.” For the first time I noticed the dimple in her cheek. She was stunning when she smiled. “I think Donald and I got carried away with a story. It was just something I made up. I didn't mean to upset him so much.”

Donald took a deep breath and nodded. “I'm not upset. Annie is a great storyteller.” His smile was genuine.

“Let's go into the house,” Annie said. She stood and extended her hand. Donald took it without hesitation. As they ran toward the house, they giggled like happy schoolchildren.

I stood for a long moment, tempted to go down to the water and look for myself. Instead, I followed them into the house. Berta would be preparing dinner, and I liked to help her. It gave me a chance to discuss the children's school progress. It was also our time together, something I had come to value, for Annie was not the only one on the property who was an orphan and wanted to be part of a loving home.

4

The storm broke as we all sat at the table for dinner. The lights flickered, but the power remained on, much to the disappointment of the children. I'd taken care to use the fine china and linen napkins. I was curious about Annie's table manners. She couldn't remember a moment of her past, but she seemed at ease in the midst of a new family. She displayed none of the awkwardness of a normal teenager.

We joined hands around the table. Bob and Berta were not religious, but they gave thanks as a family for the blessings of good food and good health. Bob had installed central air and heat in the house, one of the first homes in Coden to have the luxury, but often, like tonight, Berta opened the windows to allow a crossdraft to swirl around us. Belle Fleur was blessed with excellent airflow, and even on the hottest days we opened the windows.

Because it was a celebratory dinner, the official welcome to Annie, I lit candles. Berta prepared a fresh salad, crisp and delicious, from her garden, along with slices of smoked turkey. The weather was too hot for heavy meals.

I watched with interest as Annie shook out her napkin and spread it on her lap. She helped herself to the salad and passed it on, acting without thought, a true indication of manners. Wherever she'd come from, she'd been taught table graces. Bob poured wine for Berta and me, a merlot that Berta loved. He said I had a “natural palate” for wine, and he enjoyed introducing me to new vineyards. He held up his glass and we joined him. “We welcome Annie. I hope your stay here is filled with love and joy. And I hope you remember something about your people, Annie. I know they're missing you.”

Margo put her iced tea on the table. “Has anyone checked to see if the cops are looking for her? Teenagers don't just drop out of the sky.”

Bob slowly pushed back his chair. “Please excuse Margo and me for a moment.” He went into the kitchen. When Margo followed, stomping every step of the way, he closed the door. Margo's voice rose in anger, but she stopped in mid-sentence. Bob's low voice, unclear but forceful, could be heard.

“Annie told me a story today. It was the best scary story.” Donald spoke too loud. He was a kind-hearted child and was attempting to smooth over Margo's rudeness.

“What kind of story?” Berta picked up the thread of conversation. In the kitchen, Bob continued to lay down the law to Margo. She'd just gotten her driver's license, and I had no doubt he would take her keys away.

“About the old hotel and a ghost. A lot of things happened at The Paradise Inn. Annie knows all about the old hotel. Lots of movie stars hung out there. Some of them even
died
there.”

“Do you know about the Paradise?” I asked Annie. How was it possible she knew my history but not her own?

Her smile was apologetic. “I could see it from the water, the big old columns and all of the vines. It must have been beautiful once.” She signaled me with a wink to let me know she was fibbing. “I told Donald a tale about the ghosts of people who once visited there.”

“A ghost story!” Erin was thrilled. “Tell us! Tell us!”

Donald paled slightly, but he joined in with the demand.

Berta was amused. “I'd like to hear the story, too.”