Raquel Byrnes (20 page)

“About the Hales, huh?” O’Shay’s one visible eyebrow arched. He stood, walked to the library door, looked up and down the hall, and closed the door before coming back to sit down.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to speak out of turn, but Phillip is not the best source of information about the Hales.”

“What do you mean? He’s related to them.” I stared at O’Shay wondering what he was getting at. I thought to correct him. To let him know that Phillip had only spoken about Tuttle. But then, I thought better of it. O’Shay looked ready to tell me something important, and I wasn’t going to stop him. “He’s a cousin by marriage, right?”

“Oh, he’s Mr. Hale’s nephew all right.” O’Shay took a drink from his own tumbler. “He joined up with Mr. Hale and Simon during the summers. Wherever they were, the jungle, the mountains, Phillip insisted on coming along whenever he could.”

“I don’t see how that is bad.”

“Just”—O’Shay gave me a frustrated look—“listen. Phillip loved to travel with Mr. Hale, loved the adventure, the sights.”

“Still not seeing a problem with it,” I interjected.

“He was fiercely competitive, Phillip was. Always fighting with Simon. Always wanting Mr. Hale’s praise.” O’Shay pointed and the glass in his hand sloshed liquid over the side. “Phillip’s own daddy took off when he was young. Left Mr. Hale’s sister to raise him alone.”

“I could see why he looked to Mr. Hale for a father figure.”

“Phillip and Simon one-upped each other every chance they got, and it burned Phillip to no end that Simon always seemed to be just a little bit faster, a little bit stronger. In his mind, he should’a ruled the roost. Phillip is older by two years.”

The memory of Phillip pointedly flirting with me in front of Simon flashed, and I remembered the look on Simon’s face. His irritation that seemed so out of place now made sense. What must he have thought seeing me leave a restaurant with Phillip? I bit my lip, worried that I’d stirred a hornet’s nest.

“The dinner with Phillip wouldn’t make Simon upset though. It was harmless.”

“Well, in and of itself, I’m sure,” O’Shay said and sipped his drink. “But as a culmination…that’s a whole other thing.”

“Mr. O’Shay, what are you saying? Because Phillip didn’t speak ill of Simon at all. On the contrary, he encouraged me to give him a chance despite rumors.”

“Rumors of what?” O’Shay’s eyes widened.

I hesitated, not sure if I should repeat what Nalla said. Was it gossip? Not sure, I took a breath and told him. “Nalla warned me that Simon was dangerous.”

“Gypsy hysterics,” O’Shay spat. He stood and stalked back to the bar, slammed his glass down and sent the ice flying out across the counter. When he spoke from the bar, his voice was low, edged with steel. “If Phillip did defend Simon, then it was for his own ends. That boy never did anything to help anyone but himself. He wanted what Simon had back then, and I don’t think he’s changed much at all.”

I watched him walk back to the chair and noticed a limp.

“Mr. O’Shay, why are you all banged up?”

“Never you mind.”

“No, I do mind. You want me to believe what you’re saying about Phillip, but you keep walking out of the woods like you’ve just been mugged. What is going on?”

“I said to never mind.” He got up and walked out of the library.

My mind churned with questions and fears as I replayed the scene on the observation deck over and over. I tried to imagine a broken branch in that corner. Tried to see it jerk in the wind instead of the hand. Rubbing my face, I let out a ragged sigh. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t convince myself that I’d panicked over a branch. I knew I’d seen a human form out there, even if it was only for a split second. It lunged at me. I knew it in my bones. Besides, moaning didn’t come out of broken branches. That, and O’Shay’s refusal to let me back into the study to see for myself made my skin prickle with worry.

Later that night, I stole back to the study to try for a second look and found a padlock mounted on the doorframe in a newly attached latch. Old and rusty, it looked like O’Shay had ripped it off some long forgotten cellar door. I jiggled it, putting my eye to the oversized keyhole, but it held fast. I really wasn’t wanted in that room.

24

In the morning, Davenport wasn’t in his room. I found him outside with Lavender eating breakfast and watching her chatter. They sat at the wicker table in the gazebo. He looked happy to be with her. He looked proud.

“Hello, Rosie,” Lavender called and offered me a spoonful of cereal.

“No thanks, sweets,” I said and ran my hand down her dark tresses. “I’m not hungry.”

“See if you can go and convince Tuttle to whip up some of that coffee for Ms. Ryan,” Davenport said to Lavender.

“Two big scoops of sugar?” she asked, hopping off the chair.

“That’s right,” I said. “How’d you get so smart?”

“I just am,” she said matter-of-factly and ran off.

“How are you doing, Mr. Hale?” I sat in Lavender’s chair and fussed with my dark blue sarong and long sleeved blouse. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Your room was empty last night when I went to check in on you.”

“That’s not all you were up to, Ms. Ryan.” Davenport smirked at me over his teacup. “I heard you were running about last night breaking things.”

“O’Shay told you about the telescope?” He didn’t seem angry, which was a relief. “I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Hale. I’ll pay to have it fixed if that’s possible.” I leaned forward, my hand going to his. “Did he tell you that I also saw something up there?”

“He told me you panicked when you saw a bush flapping at you from the corner.” Davenport chuckled. “What were you doing up there, anyway?”

“I didn’t panic, Mr. Hale.” I looked around for Lavender. “I know that I saw…something on that deck with me.”

“O’Shay said he went to look and it was empty.”

“I’m not making this up. I’m not crazy.” I was desperate for him to believe me. “If there’s someone lurking—”

“Stop, Ms. Ryan, you’ll whip yourself into another bout of hysterics.” His gaze fell on mine, and it held pity.

I leaned back, defeated. Had I really seen someone up there? How could O’Shay have not seen it? What could I really remember from just a millisecond of a lightning flash?

Lavender trotted back out followed by Tuttle, who carried a silver carafe in her hand and a mug.

“Oh, you didn’t have to bring this out, Mrs. Tuttle. If I had known it was already made, I would have come to get it myself.”

“Actually, Phillip asked for coffee to be ready when he arrives.” She rolled her eyes when she turned from Davenport. “Whenever that is.”

“Did he come back from the village last night?” I asked.

Lavender hopped onto my lap and proceeded to add sugar to my cup.

“No, he asked for it before he left for the village yesterday. He said he’d be in late.”

“Well, make sure he finds a space in the house,” Davenport said. “There’s no reason for him to be down in the village when he’s got a perfectly good place to stay up here.”

“Oh, no, sweets,” I said and took the sugar from Lavender’s hands. “Let me do that. You can stir, OK?”

“Fine,” she pouted, and I looked at her surprised. She’d been in a great mood five minutes ago.

Mrs. Tuttle continued. “I think it’s the entertainment they offer down there that he prefers, Mr. Hale. I hear he’s quite happy with the company he keeps in the village.”

“Nonsense,” Davenport grumped. “You tell him to come and find me when he gets in.”

“Speak of the—” Mrs. Tuttle began.

“Uncle,” Phillip called from the garden gate.

He waved, and Mrs. Tuttle muttered under her breath.

“Rosetta, you look lovely. Like a tropical island princess. Hard to believe this is the first day of September already. Seems like the summer was just starting.”

“Good morning, Phillip,” I called back. “Come and join us?”

Lavender shifted on my lap, squirming. She reached for the mug of coffee, spilling it all over herself and my lap. Though it wasn’t piping hot, I let out a yelp.

“Oh, Lala,” I exclaimed, standing and setting her on the ground. “Did you get burned?”

“I hate coffee,” she said, her blue eyes flashing with sudden anger. “You shouldn’t have it out here. You should be inside.” She grabbed the mug and smashed it on the slate stones under the table.

“Lavender!” Mrs. Tuttle gasped. “What is the matter with you?”

“You’re all wet,” she said to me and ran off into the house.

“Hey,” I started after her.

“Let her go, Ms. Ryan,” Davenport ordered. “She’s not your concern.”

“I’ll go,” Mrs. Tuttle said and left.

I bit my lip, looking after her with worry. “That was weird.” Sitting down, I dabbed at my skirt with the linen napkin. “She was so happy, and then this.”

“Well, it’s not really surprising considering what day it is.” Phillip knelt to pick up the broken pieces. “I’m right, aren’t I, Uncle?”

Davenport fussed, finally balling the napkin in his hands and throwing it on the table. “I’d forgotten.” He shook his head, obviously upset.

“What?” I looked from Phillip to Davenport, confused.

“The anniversary of Amanna’s death,” Phillip said. “I must have set her off announcing the date. We’ve been celebrating Lavender’s birthday a week later than the real date and I guess…I guess I was just focused on that.”

“Lavender’s birthday is the same week as her mother’s death?”

“The day before, unfortunately. Her birthday is today, but we thought it best to celebrate it later,” Davenport said.

“Oh no.” I looked at the house. Why would that make her angry at me?

“Where’s our golden boy?” Phillip asked. He sat next to me and poured himself some coffee. Leaning back, he smiled. “Simon make it home last night?”

“Was he at the village?” Davenport asked, his brows still furrowed. “I haven’t seen him.”

“How about you, Rosie? Have you been with Simon?”

“What?” I looked at Phillip, confused. “No. I just got up.”

“Well, see if you can go and find him, would you?” Davenport asked. “I need to have his professional opinion on the telescope.”

“The telescope? What happened to it?” Phillip gazed up at the house. “Did the wind finally take that brass behemoth down?”

“I did, actually,” I said, smoothing my skirt. “I ran into it. I was wandering around last night and knocked it over.”

“And where would you be going at night, Rosetta?” Phillip winked at Davenport, who rolled his eyes.

“I’ll go find Simon,” I said and left with my cheeks burning.

Not wanting to endure more eye rolling and references to my hysteria, I hurried out of earshot. I went through the south garden gate and took the gravel path leading to Simon’s workshop. Halfway there, a flurry of bubbles floated past me. I stopped, listening. Lavender’s plaintive voice mingled with Simon’s low reassurances. They should be alone. I turned for the house.

“Rosie,” Lavender shouted out the door. She ran to greet me on the path. Throwing her arms around me, she hugged me.

“Hey there,” I said, stroking her locks. “Are you feeling better?”

“Come look.” She took my hand, pulling me to the door where Simon appeared, a bottle of bubbles in hand. “Daddy has bubbles!”

Simon blew another jumble of bubbles, and Lavender chased them. Running in circles on the grass, she clapped them between her hands and laughed. He chuckled as he watched her, and I couldn’t imagine how Nalla hated him so.

“I have some bad news,” I said.

His gaze went to mine, concerned. “I knocked over the telescope on the observation deck. I think I’ve ruined it.”

“What, last night?” Simon raised an eyebrow. “That thing is a lightning rod out on that deck, Rosetta. You could’ve been seriously hurt.” He blew another volley of bubbles and Lavender ran off, chasing the baby ones. “Are you all right?”

“I thought I saw something out there.” I waited for the eye roll, but he looked more concerned than amused.

“Like the other night?”

“No…” I wondered if he thought I saw ghosts in every dark corner. “This was different. I saw a form in the shadows. I don’t know.” I twisted my hair in a knot, frustrated. “Anyway, it was nothing, but your father asked me to see if you’d take a look.”

“Is the telescope still up there?” He put the bubbles down, reached out, and covered my fidgeting hand. “Hey…You don’t look like you think it was nothing, Rosetta. You look afraid.”

I tried to force a smile, tried to hide my inner turmoil, but in the end, the ragged breath I took gave me away.

Simon pulled me close, and I buried my face in his chest, trying not to cry. So strong. So warm. Simon’s heart beat against my cheek, and I wanted to be here in his arms so much it scared me.

“Shh,” he murmured and ran his hand down my back, smoothing my hair and rocking side to side. “Tell me.”

“That’s just it, Simon,” I said and stepped back wiping my eyes. “It was for a second in the lightning, and then O’Shay checked it out and said it was a branch.”

“But you don’t think it was?” He ran his thumb under my eye, dabbing a tear.

“I don’t know what I think. How can I mistake a man, or whatever it was, for some leaves?” I glanced out at Lavender who was spinning in the middle of the grass, her face up to the sun. “I feel like this place is making me nuts. I don’t know what is going on. You said the sounds I heard at night were O’Shay, but your father says he never is in the house at night. Then I see this…this thing in the woods, but no one else does. I’m beginning to think I’m losing my mind.”

It occurred to me that O’Shay
had
been in the house at night. I’d knocked him down as I ran from the room. What had he been doing wandering around in the dark?

“Well, I’ve seen O’Shay wandering the house when I take breaks from my work here and go to check on Lavender.”

“And you didn’t hear anything strange, ever?”

He shook his head.

I wandered deeper into the workshop, trying to calm down. It was in total disarray. Crate stuffing littered the floor and counters. Open boxes and equipment were strewn every which way on the work table. The workshop smelled of his tea, pungent, and I wrinkled my nose.