The Amber Stone (32 page)

After being released on bail, and sharing her suspicions about Pernelle with her lawyer and the police, Teresa had tried to contact him, both by phone and in person, but his family wouldn’t let her. Soon Michelle—seeing how unhappy her efforts were making her—convinced Teresa to stop trying.

“But I have so many questions,” Teresa had told her one day while they were in the kitchen, unable to share her desperation to see him or hear his voice. “And now that—”

Michelle remained adamant. “Until this whole issue has died down and he’s well again, I think it’s better this way.”

“I need to see if he’s okay.”

“We know he’s out of the hospital. That’s enough.”

But it wasn’t enough. And now as she looked at Sean, she wished she hadn’t listened to her sister. She wished she’d fought harder to see him.

“He still shouldn’t be this weak,” Teresa whispered to Patrick once they’d gotten Sean settled in her bed. Mist curled down beside him.

Patrick nodded, for a moment looking younger than he actually was. “That’s what has us worried.”

“Is it some lingering effect of the poison?”

Patrick shook his head. “No, it’s the pneumonia.”

“Where are you going?” Michelle demanded when Teresa abruptly turned and left the room.

Teresa held up her hands. “Just leave me alone.” She headed down the stairs.

Michelle instructed Patrick to stay with his brother, then followed Teresa. “You’re acting weird. You haven’t touched him once since he got here.”

Teresa shook her head. “I’m not getting near him, not yet. I’m not going to touch him, I’m not going to feed him, I’m not doing anything. Tomorrow morning we’re sending him home or to the hospital.”

“Why?”

“He has pneumonia.”

“So what?”

Teresa stopped walking and stared at her in astonishment. “How can you say that?”

Michelle blinked, not understanding Teresa’s expression then rolled her eyes when she did. “You can’t still be blaming yourself for Mum and Dad. It wasn’t your fault. Everybody knows that.”

“It was just the beginning of things going wrong. People thought I hurt Bess, I know you heard the whispers…” She let her voice trail away and bit her lip. Bertha had been wrong. Surrendering hadn’t made her feel free, she still felt imprisoned. She still remembered the cold feel of the handcuffs on her wrists, the smell of the cell where she’d been held. The suspicion felt right to her guilt-ridden mind and although she’d given enough evidence for a strong defense, she didn’t trust herself to help him. Sean was here, they were together, that was enough.

“The whispers came from people who don’t matter,” Michelle said. “From people who don’t know you as much as we do. Bess had a heart attack. Our parents were older and had underlying conditions. I saw you, I know how you cared for them and made their last days special.”

Teresa headed to the living room and turned on the lights. “Well, I don’t want to make Sean’s last days special.”

“Don’t twist my words around. He’s overexerted himself. He’s probably dehydrated and needs nourishment, but he’s
not
going to die.”

Teresa sat on the couch. “How do you know that?”

“He’s young and—”

“Pneumonia doesn’t care how old you are.”

Michelle took a deep breath and sat down beside her. “Teresa—and I really hate to say this but I will—
you’re
what he needs.”

“No, I can’t. I destroy everything I touch.”

“That’s not true.”

“I tried to help Louisa and look at how that turned out. And my store—”

Michelle sat back and stared at her for a long moment. “When did you become so arrogant?”

“What?”

“When did you think you were supposed to know everything, succeed at everything, hold life and death in the palm of your hand? You don’t know everything, that’s not what life’s about. You do your best and you love your hardest and that’s it. That’s all you can control. What happened to Louisa was tragic, but it wasn’t your fault and making it your fault is making you think you’re more important than you are.”

“So I’m not important?”

“No, not on the level you want to be. To the rest of the world you’re a nobody. Forget about gaining their acceptance and applause, you’ll never get it. That’s why in the blink of an eye your shop can be littered with foul words and people can turn their backs on you. That’s why his family was so quick to jump to conclusions and believe the worst about you, the same with the police. All because you’re not important—to them.

“But to the people who love you, you mean the world. You were one of the most popular piano teachers around with students who adored you, The Garden Society loved your oils and creams, and friends like Bertha don’t come by very often.” Michelle paused. “And I don’t like Sean, but he took a risk coming all this way to see you, the least you can do is take care of him.”

Teresa looked away. Tears welled in her eyes. “I wanted to prove that I was better than Helene at The Wright Herb Store. That the Valley Ray supplements didn’t do what they claimed, but I didn’t. The last thing I did for Sean was pour him a drink that nearly killed him. I can’t stop replaying that moment over and over in my mind.”

Michelle grabbed Teresa’s chin, forcing her to look at her. “Then don’t let that be your last memory with him. You have the power to change that. Put the kettle on and make him something that will soothe him, nourish him, and heal him. And once you pour him that drink, you can focus on the
real
reason he came to see you.”

Teresa frowned. “What’s that?”

“To have you by his side.”

***

Teresa returned to her bedroom and saw Patrick fast asleep at her desk, his glasses set off to the side. She tried to nudge him awake so she could lead him to the guest bedroom, but he just turned his head and continued to sleep. So she put a blanket over him.

She then turned to Sean, whose large frame made her queen-size bed look like a twin. Mist lay curled up at his side. She placed several candles around the room and lit them to center herself and give her the courage to perform the task at hand. She bit her lip then stood at the side of her bed. It had been less than two weeks since she had last touched him, but it felt like years. And who would she be touching? Ryan Hamilton? Sean Casey? A mixture of both or someone completely different? Could she give him what he needed? Bertha had once asked her if she were strong enough to carry all his sorrows and she’d arrogantly said yes. Would she be able to prove it now? She reached out a trembling hand, then gripped it into a fist and withdrew it.

“Are you afraid to touch me?” Sean said in a deep tone.

Teresa looked at him, startled. The glow of candlelight cast soft shadows on his face, highlighting his eyes. And in them she saw the man she’d met at the bay, the man who Camille had taunted at the Crabapple, the man who had held her after Louisa’s death—the man she’d married. In his gaze, she saw their children and the future they would share. She knew then that he’d never be a stranger to her. He’d always be the man she loved. She sat down beside him. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“I can’t sleep,” he said, then rested his hand on her arm. His hand was cold, but she didn’t recoil from his touch. “There’s something you need to know—”

“You can tell me later,” she said, caressing his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. Take off your shirt.”

Sean flashed a grin, then looked over at his brother. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked, handing her his shirt.

She sent him a mock look of censure. “We’re not doing that.”

He sighed with feigned dejection. “Okay.”

She bit back a laugh. “I can’t believe you’re thinking about that right now.”

“I’m sorry about your store. We can—”

Teresa shook her head, stopping him. “That’s okay. I don’t need to own a store anymore. Seeing you well again is all that’s important to me right now.”

His eyes darkened with emotion. “I’ve missed you more than I can say.”

“Me too. And I won’t leave your side again. No matter what.” She reached and grabbed a small bottle of oil and spread it on her hands. “Now lie back and just close your eyes.”

“First, I have to tell you—”

“First you have to let me take care of you, then you can take care of me.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Relax, unless you don’t trust me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s a low blow.”

She grinned, knowing he’d feel guilty about his family’s treatment of her. “Whatever works.”

Sean lay back. Teresa massaged the oil over his chest, sensing his anxiety and fear. The anxiety she could expect, but the fear surprised her. She knew that was what was draining him of his energy more than the virus. With each stroke and touch she let her heart speak, determined to rid him of the toxins caused by stress, worry, anger and fear. Soon she felt his body relax and surrender and he drifted off into a welcome sleep.

“Wow!” Patrick whispered.

She glanced up and saw him staring at her in amazement. She grabbed a towel and cleaned her hands. “You should be asleep.”

“I had to see this,” he said looking at the candles around the room before letting his gaze return to his brother. “He was right. He needed you. He hasn’t slept this peacefully in days.”

She started towards the door. “Now let me show you where you can sleep.”

Patrick shook his head. “Nah,” he said pulling up the blanket around him. “I like being here.” He rested his head on his makeshift pillow and closed his eyes.

Teresa shook her head, then picked up Mist, who briefly protested, and set him on the ground. She blew out the candles then got into bed next to her husband.

And that night she dreamed. She saw her parents in the distance across a field and called out their names, but they didn’t turn. She ran towards them, but they remained out of reach. She felt her legs turn to jelly, but arms caught her before she fell. She looked up and saw Sean. “What are you doing?” he asked.

She shifted her gaze towards the horizon. “My parents still won’t forgive me.”

He gave her a strange look. “What do you mean? They’ve been behind you the entire time.”

Teresa spun around and saw her parents smiling at her. She stared at them frozen in shock.

“We’ve been saying your name,” her father said. “But you could never hear us or feel our touch. We could never get past the wall you put up.”

Teresa felt a fresh breeze touch her skin as if the walls of an invisible box had shattered around her. She took Sean’s hand in hers and faced her parents without fear or regret, finally feeling truly free.

Thomas cracked the shell of his hard-boiled egg with the edge of his spoon, feeling a sense of satisfaction. The last couple of days had been great. Helene had been in high spirits since Teresa’s store had been forced to close. He knew Teresa’s arrest wasn’t the only thing that had done damage to her store’s reputation, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his wife hadn’t helped in getting some tongues wagging. He glanced across the circular table at her as she read the morning paper and finished her orange juice, the light from the breakfast nook windows bouncing on the cutlery and her glass.

“They found her,” she said.

“Who?”

Helene looked up at him then tossed him the paper. “The one who looks like
your
type.”

A sliver of unease swept through him as he looked at the beautiful image on the front page. She certainly was his type and he’d had a taste of her, but he knew his wife didn’t need to know that. He remembered the fear that had gripped him when he’d first learned Pernelle was a ‘person of interest’ in the Casey poisoning. He’d hoped she’d disappear before anyone could reach her, because if she talked she could take him down with her.

“What’s wrong?” Helene said in a sharp tone.

He swallowed and pushed the paper away, desperate to hide his worry. “Nothing.”

But Helene knew him better than that and she kept her gaze on him. “What did you do?”