ShadowsintheMist (11 page)

I excused myself and followed him. As I guessed, he was in
the library hunched over the bar with a bottle in front of him and a brimming
glass in his hand.

“It won’t help to get drunk,” I admonished.

He glared at me and defiantly swallowed the entire contents
of the glass, grimacing. “Don’t tell me you’re going to start nagging me
already!”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I suppose I have to start
somewhere.” Then more seriously, “I’m sorry if I didn’t speak to you first. I
was wrong to assume you’d already accepted the will.”

He tipped the bottle over his glass. “Want some?” I shook my
head.

“I should be used to being the odd man out around here,” he
said. “But no matter how we look at it, the blessed Dirkston blood will never
flow through my veins!”

Briefly, like the flicker of lightning beyond the windows, I
glimpsed a hurt, resentful child beneath the armored shell in which Grant
cloaked himself. I laid a hesitant hand on his arm. He tensed as though my
touch was somehow threatening.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll go along with whatever you say.”

His expression was dubious, waiting for me to add some
unsavory condition. When it was evident I’d say no more, he gave a tired,
lopsided smile and nodded.

“Okay, it’s a deal.” He held out his hand. “Shall we shake
on it?”

Our hands met in silent accord, lingering warmly before I
pulled mine away and went to the windows to hide a confusing, illogical rush of
emotions. The sky was black. Only the retreating blink of lightning outlined
the roiling clouds and slanting veil of rain. I watched, fascinated and counted
the seconds until the thunder rumbled in. Already the rain seemed to be
abating, pattering more sedately on the bricks outside. I could just make out
the pool. It too, was dark, though lights from the windows glinted off its
surface, displaying the radiating ripples generated by each raindrop.

Suddenly the sky lit up again as if in a final effort to
split the night. The lights in the house flickered and went out. The thunder
cracked.

I froze, rooted to the spot, fingers splayed against the
glass, mouth agape. I stared unblinking while the horror of what I saw
registered. In a burst of possessed energy, I sprinted across the hall to the
rear parlor, threw open the door to the patio and flung myself out into the
rain. I reached the gate to the pool and fumbled numbly for the latch, shaking
it in desperation. It opened and I burst through, my eyes wild, darting,
searching.

I’d seen him. I was certain. My father—floating face-down in
the rippling water! Without thinking, I plunged into the frigid pool, flailing
madly as I searched. I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t see through the darkness
and rain. My thrashing slowed. The weight of my clothes became unbearable, my
breath came in gasps, my limbs were numb. I think I was sobbing. In utter
exhaustion, I let the waters close over my head.

There in the total silence of the water’s depths, I heard it
distinctly, as if he were very near. His voice called to me, pleaded with me,
lured me down, until darkness and his voice were all that existed.

“Help me, Suzanna! Help me!”

But I couldn’t find him.

* * * * *

When I awoke, I was shivering uncontrollably and aware of
three things—the rain beating down on me, the rough bricks scratching my cheek
and a great weight pinning me flat. Someone was breathing heavily and I felt
myself being squeezed relentlessly. I coughed, vomited water and groaned. The
weight shifted and I was rolled over onto my back. I opened my eyes and Grant’s
face appeared in front of me. His deep blue eyes were dilated with shock and
confusion, his hair was plastered to his head like a sodden mitt. Water dripped
from his nose and chin in large, lazy drops.

I laughed—or at least tried to. I couldn’t call the sound
that issued from my mouth any more than a strangled choke but something must
have told him this was a laugh because he laughed too, with utter relief.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I nodded weakly. “What happened?”

He lifted me in his arms and carried me toward the house. “Christ,
Suzie, I don’t know what came over you!”

I puzzled over this response for a moment, then let my head
fall against his shoulder, feeling pleasantly lethargic and wonderfully secure.
“It’s Suzanna,” I murmured.

Giles was called at once and appeared within minutes, his
clothes and hair mussed but with his medical bag in hand. Martha was also
present and had taken me aside to remove my wet clothes and wrap me snugly in a
blanket. After, someone else curled my fingers around a cup of something warm.
The lights were back on and everyone seemed to be hovering over me at once. I
still shivered but not as violently. I was appalled Giles had been summoned from
his home so hastily to tend to me when I knew I’d be fine in a few minutes.

“What happened here?” Giles demanded.

Colin and Alicia stared helplessly and turned to Grant, who
in turn looked at me.

“I…I don’t know,” I stammered. My teeth were still chattering.

Giles handed me a tablet and gestured to the glass in my
other hand. “Take this now. It’ll settle your nerves.”

Obediently, I placed the tablet in my mouth and gulped some
water. My throat felt raw. After a few minutes, the shivering began to abate
and I was able to speak coherently.

“All I know is I saw something floating in the pool. It
looked—” I hesitated. “It looked like a body and…and I was sure it was Dad.” I
shook my head slowly, trying to remove the image from my mind. “I don’t
remember much more, just that I knew I had to get to him…to save him. I must’ve
jumped in the pool.”

Giles listened, frowning and I saw him glance at Grant, who
nodded confirmation. Alicia blanched and covered her mouth with her hand.
Martha’s face was frozen. Even Colin had paled considerably.

David appeared in the doorway and rushed to my side. He
hunkered down in front of me, his face a study of worried concern. “Are you all
right? What happened?”

“I’m all right,” I assured him brusquely. The inanity of
what I’d done was beginning to dawn and I felt ridiculous.

“I’d like to be alone with Suzanna,” Giles said quietly.

They all acquiesced with sympathetic murmuring but Grant
hesitated, sending me a questioning glance.

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “I’m all right.” It pleased
me that he cared, although I didn’t entirely understand why.

It didn’t take me long to convince Giles I’d merely suffered
some sort of nervous hallucination brought on by the pressures of the past
days. He gave me a bottle of sleeping tablets, adamant that I use them, then
ordered me to bed.

After he left, David returned but I sent him away, claiming
I was very tired and needed to get some rest. In truth, I wanted to be left
alone. The reality of my little drama was now very vivid and it frightened me.
I could still see with total clarity the body floating in the pool. I could
feel the overpowering presence that beckoned to me in the silence underwater.
With a wave of panic, I wondered if I might be losing my mind, remembering the
other episodes involving strange, fleeting figures.

Grant came in after Giles and David left and sat down
opposite me, fixing me with a penetrating stare that must have read my
confusion.

“We’ve been wrong, Suzie,” he said quietly. “We and
especially I, should’ve been more sensitive to your loss.”

I gazed at him. The sedative Giles had prompted me to
swallow was beginning to take effect and a comfortable languor was creeping
over me. I assessed Grant’s features lazily, admiring his chiseled jaw and his
wide mouth with the small scar at one corner. I smiled.

“You saved my life,” I said. “I guess that means I owe you.”

He cocked a distracted brow, then smiled too, softening his
face so it was warm and compellingly attractive.

“You do pick a helluva time for a swim,” he said and we both
burst out laughing until tears ran down my cheeks and I leaned back in my
cocoon of warmth, closed my eyes and sighed, truly exhausted.

“Up to bed with you,” he ordered and despite my feeble
protests, scooped me up easily and carried me upstairs.

I was asleep before we reached my room and, for once, I didn’t
dream.

I awoke early the next day still in a haze of lethargy I
refused to give in to. I was determined to pursue a new course of action I’d
hatched before the episode at the pool.

By seven, I was dressed and downstairs, careful not to
disturb the rest of the household. The heady aroma of perking coffee beckoned
me to the kitchen. I had over an hour before I needed to leave.

It was apparent Lottie Wilson had been busy for some time.
Two apple pies cooled on a rack in front of the window while a batch of
cinnamon buns was rising in their trays, nearly ready for the oven. She opened
her mouth in surprise at the sight of me and wiped her hands on her apron, her
face beaded with perspiration, a smudge of flour vivid against her ebony skin.
Her hair was pulled back and contained in a fine mesh net.

“Why, Suzanna! I didn’t ’spect you to be down so soon!
Shouldn’t you still be in bed?” Her warm brown eyes assessed me with concern.

“I’m fine, Lottie,” I grunted. It never failed to amaze me
how fast gossip spread through the house. I’d almost hoped to get away without
being reminded of last night’s performance. “Is that coffee ready? It smells
delicious.”

She smiled and her broad face melted into gentle folds. “Why,
you just sit down, honey and I’ll get it for you. Seems ages since you’ve been
in here to visit me. I was beginning to wonder if you might’ve forgotten old
Lottie!”

She poured the dark, steaming liquid from the blue-speckled
pot on the stove and set the cup before me with a jug of milk and a bowl of
sugar. I smiled apologetically.

“I should’ve come in to see you sooner but things have been
so crazy around here…” I ignored the sugar but poured in a healthy dollop of
milk and took a sip. No one could make coffee like Lottie!

She sat down across from me, her ample frame bulging over
the sturdy, straight-backed chair. She studied me intently. “How’re you doing,
dear?”

“To tell you the truth, I really don’t know anymore. I
thought I was handling things pretty well…until last night.” I glanced up. “You
heard?”

She nodded, dropping her eyes. We were silent for a moment.

“It seemed so real,” I said at last. “I could swear I saw
something in the pool. And yesterday, there was a man standing in the road,
then again at the edge of the woods by the grave…”

“Wait a minute, honey. What man’s this?”

“I don’t know. It was all so sudden.” I described the two
events and Lottie listened with a frown, her huge hands laid flat on the
tabletop.

After I finished, she shook her head and clucked her tongue.
“You might think I’m loony, Suzanna but it sounds to me like someone’s tryin’
awful hard to scare you. Otherwise…” She clucked her tongue.

“Otherwise what?”

She twisted her lips, embarrassed. “Oh, it’s nothin’. There’s
no such thing…”

“No such thing as what?”

“Why, ghosts, dearie. Could be your daddy’s tryin’ to say a
proper goodbye to you.”

I nearly laughed out loud but collected myself in time,
taking a quick gulp of coffee to squelch the smile that threatened.

“Well, if Dad is trying to speak to me from the grave, why
doesn’t he just do it instead of all this nonsense?”

She stood up and moved to the oven, shoving the tray of buns
inside.

“Go on, now,” she grumbled. “Laugh if you like but there’s
plenty of folk who believe the spirits of the restless dead come back. And it’s
not for us to say how they do it neither!”

“I’m sorry, Lottie. I didn’t mean to make fun. I guess I’m
just not very superstitious.”

She nodded. “Never you mind, doll. It’s probably just what
Doctor Lancaster says—nerves. You know, there’s no tellin’ what a passel of
strung nerves can do. When my James got sick, well I nearly went ’round the
bend myself—all them doctors and hospitals. And all they could say was, ‘There’s
nothin’ we can do, Miz Wilson. You’ll jes’ have to try and make him
comfortable.’ Well, I did like they said but in the end it was merciful he didn’t
last much longer.”

She rambled on and I sipped from my cup, mumbling agreement
from time to time but letting my thoughts wander down different paths.

If someone was trying to frighten me, they were certainly
going to a lot of trouble. Who’d want to do such a thing? And why?

Could someone be that spiteful or did the person hope to
gain some perverse satisfaction from making me suffer? My mind lit on Alicia as
I remembered the conversation she’d had with Grant in the garden. Could
jealousy of some sort be the catalyst for these horrible tricks? Could she feel
so threatened by the marriage that she’d resort to revenge?

And what about Grant? Would he stand to gain by arranging
these shocking episodes? Perhaps if he drove me completely mad, he could
inherit the whole estate! No, it was a ridiculous thought. I’d been reading too
many mystery thrillers.

“My own mama claimed she saw my daddy workin’ in the garden
in the moonlight and Daddy’d been dead close to three years.”

I looked up. “What?”

Lottie threw a mound of dough onto the pastry board and sent
a cloud of flour billowing up. She began to knead it expertly. “I was just
sayin’ that I know quite a few folks who’ve been visited by their dead kin. You
wouldn’t be the first. And what with Mr. Dirkston comin’ by his end so sudden,
I expect he had plenty of unfinished business he’d be wantin’ to tidy up.”

I grimaced and downed the last of the coffee.

“I’ve got to be going, Lottie,” I said abruptly. “Thanks for
the chat. I’ll see you soon.”

“But Suzanna,” she called after me. “What about a bun? They’re
nearly cooked!”