The Splendour Falls (19 page)

My fork paused on its way to my mouth. ‘Seriously? I didn't think there were any Europeans in North America until the sixteen hundreds. Well, Leif Eriksson, but that was up in Canada, not way down here.'

The professor smiled in approval. I guess I had managed to learn something besides pirouettes. ‘The Spanish landed in Mobile Bay in the fifteenth century, so why not a longboat a few hundred years earlier?'

I considered this as I grabbed a piece of toast. ‘Then wouldn't this be – I don't know – Bendy Gaid Fran Land?'

Rhys shot me a glare, but his dad, who was enjoying telling his tale to fresh ears, just smiled tolerantly. ‘The colony was a doomed enterprise, obviously. The settlers may have all died, or they may have been absorbed into the local people. French and Spanish explorers, when they finally did get to the region, told tales of
fair-haired natives, and isolated tribes that – reportedly – spoke Welsh.'

‘Seriously?' I chewed my toast and swallowed, fascinated by the story, curious about what parts might be real, and what was just legend. ‘That's so wild.'

‘Yes, but there's no solid proof,' said Rhys in a wetblanket tone, ‘so at the moment, it's just a story.'

‘True,' his father agreed equably. Then to me he said, ‘The most tangible link is the bluestone monolith in the middle of your garden.'

‘The rock covered with vines?' I felt a spark of excitement, as if one small puzzle piece had just fitted into another, even though I had no idea what the big picture was. ‘Paula said it was what gave the house its name. Bluestone is the type of rock?'

‘Yes.' The professor's eyes lit with answering enthusiasm.

Rhys sighed, and corrected in a staid academic tone that didn't hide his exasperation with his father, ‘British bluestone is correctly called Preseli dolerite, if you wish to be specific. Which you should, Dad.'

Professor Griffith waved that off, as if he had heard it often, which I bet he had. ‘The point is, that particular type is found only in the Preseli Hills. And Stonehenge, of course.'

I sat forward, my breakfast forgotten. ‘I remember this. Dad told me how whoever built Stonehenge had to get the bluestone all the way from a mountain range in Wales.'

‘That's it,' said the professor. ‘One of my goals is to find records that indicate whether your rock was
here before the house was built, or if your ancestor brought it.'

‘Paula doesn't know?' The William S. Davis book hadn't said. Or at least I hadn't run across any mention of the stone before my eyes had crossed with boredom.

Professor Griffith shook his head. ‘She only knows it's been a curious feature of the gardens since anyone can remember. It's why I'm starting my research here. That, and it's just up the Alabama River from Mobile. Imagine how lucky I felt when a friend told me that Ms Davis was opening this place as an inn.'

I worked out the timing in my head. ‘So you'd heard of Bluestone Hill before you knew of it as a place to stay.'

‘Of course. It would be too coincidental otherwise, wouldn't it?' The professor smiled. ‘Rhys read about it. Ran across mention of the house and the stone on the Internet while studying. Wasn't that it, Rhys?'

Rhys got up and took his plate to the sink as he replied. ‘I don't remember, Dad.'

The vague answer felt evasive. So did the move to the sink, which put his back to us both. He definitely seemed to be hiding something.

But before I could question him, I heard a pickup pull up in front of the garage. And whether it was logic or something else, I knew exactly who it would be. Clara confirmed my instinct when she looked at the clock in surprise. ‘Shawn's early. He must be eager for his last day of school.'

‘Or something,' murmured Rhys, under the sound of running water. Did he mean me? I caught
Professor Griffith sort of smiling into his mug of tea, which hinted at yes.

How did Rhys know Shawn had been paying me attention? I didn't think he'd seen us together. Had he been listening to Teen Town Council gossip?

Shawn came in noisily, bounding up the porch steps, letting the screen door slam behind him. I braced myself instinctively, the way you brace yourself before a wave at the beach – determined not to let it bowl you over, yet with some enjoyment for the sensation of the water washing over you. But when he flashed me a smile, I was helpless not to smile back, just a little bit.

Even that made me feel fickle, at best. I glanced at Rhys, who was giving his studied attention to drying his dish.

‘Morning, all,' Shawn said, very much the bon vivant, then greeted the elders by name, like a well? mannered Southern boy. ‘Prof, Miss Clara.'

The professor nodded, intent on sneaking Gigi a crust of bread, and Clara smiled at him on her way to the fridge. Rhys didn't respond at all, unless you counted the stiff set of his shoulders and the fact that he didn't even turn round.

‘Have a seat, Shawn,' said Clara. ‘Addie's not down yet.'

‘That's fine.' He took the seat nearest me at the table, the one Rhys had vacated. ‘I'll sit here and see how our visitor is enjoying Alabama.'

‘Hi, Shawn.' He had the charisma turned up to full this morning. But the cynical observation didn't stop
the slow flush of warmth as he grinned at me. ‘Last day of school?'

‘Yep.' He leaned his elbows on the table. ‘I've got the afternoon free, if you want to take me up on that tour guide offer.'

Returning to his co-opted spot, Rhys reached past Shawn and picked up his half-full mug. ‘Excuse me,' he said, pointedly polite. ‘I'll just get this out of your way.'

‘Oh, I'm sorry, man.' Shawn sat back in the chair, obviously not sorry at all. ‘Was that your cup of tea?'

His tone turned ‘cup of tea' into something dainty. Rhys responded with an understated ‘Yes,' and left
Your point?
unspoken. On the surface, they could have been two guys giving each other a hard time. But there were oceans of subtext in the exchange. The only thing I could see for certain was their clear and established dislike for each other.

Clara set a glass of OJ in front of Shawn, dispelling the testosterone moment, and frowned at my plate. ‘Those eggs aren't going to do you any good if you don't eat them.' I obediently pushed the remains around with my fork. ‘Help yourself to some toast, Shawn,' she said. ‘I'll go hurry up Addie.'

Rhys downed the rest of his tea and put the mug in the sink. ‘I'm off. Dad, I'll see you later. Don't talk Sylvie to death.'

‘Yes, General.' The professor had an absentminded academic thing going on and seemed content to let his son manage him.

‘More treasure hunting?' I ribbed him without
thinking, noting he was wearing his hiking boots and sturdy clothes again. After all, he'd started the morning with that comment about his father's existence proved. But Rhys stiffened, and glared at me in a quickly checked warning.

What had I said? Was it because Shawn was here? My joke had definitely upped the tension another notch, which was the exact opposite of my intention.

Shawn raised his brows, and turned in his chair to look at Rhys. ‘Are you searching for buried treasure, Griffith? Funny, you don't look like a pirate.'

The muscle in Rhys's jaw clenched and released. ‘I'm off to Old Cahawba. I'm helping with the archaeological excavation there. They need to get it done before some land developer runs roughshod over the place.'

He spoke to me, but that last part was aimed at Shawn. The girls last night had said Cahawba was a sore spot with the Maddoxes and their new development.

Shawn smiled, but I noticed a little tightening around his eyes. ‘Good thing that state land is protected from
evil
folks who want to build stuff that will bring more business to the area. Including more traffic to the park.'

Before Rhys could reply, Addie came banging in the back door, nearly running him down. ‘Sorry,' she murmured, then flung herself into a seat and pointed to Shawn's orange juice. ‘Are you going to drink that?'

‘Help yourself,' he said.

I glanced towards the door, but Rhys had departed. I wrestled with mixed feelings of disappointment and
frustration, and turned to Shawn for answers instead. ‘I take it you're the evil land developer?'

‘My dad is.' He grabbed a piece of toast and the butter dish, seeming completely at ease now that Rhys had gone. ‘Maddox Point is going to bring more people to the area. It'll be great for the town, which will be great for everyone. And the park, too, if they wouldn't freak out about it.'

‘Where is it going to be?' I asked.

‘Upriver from here.' He flashed that engaging smile, his blue eyes bright. ‘I'll show you around if you want. As I may have mentioned, I'm free this afternoon.'

‘Not today.' It came out more curt than I intended. I was curious about Old Cahawba. It kept cropping up, first in the Davis book, then again at dinner. But it struck me as wrong to accept Shawn's invitation right after he'd argued – well, exchanged veiled barbs – with Rhys. It seemed like I would be choosing sides somehow.

All the same, I softened my refusal. ‘I'm sure you have better things to do on your first afternoon of freedom. Don't you want to celebrate with your friends?'

He gave an exaggerated frown, rubbing his square jaw. ‘Let's see. Hang out with a bunch of guys I've known my whole life, or spend time with the cute girl from out of town. Not really a contest.'

There was a cheeky self-awareness in his quick smile, and that, more than the heavy-handed compliment, made me blush. Or maybe it wasn't a blush but
the warmth of his attention. I only vaguely heard Professor Griffith chuckle behind his newspaper, barely noticed the roll of Addie's eyes and Clara's poorly hidden smile as she set a plate of bacon and hastily scrambled eggs in front of her daughter.

I was shaken to discover how hard it was to tell him no. In a way, that strengthened my resolve. ‘I've got some things I want to do today. Some other time.'

‘Suit yourself.' He didn't seem offended, just stuffed the rest of his toast in his mouth and asked conversationally, ‘So, have you seen any more ghosts?'

I blinked, hoping my rush of panic didn't show in my face. ‘Any
more
ghosts?' Crap. What had I given away yesterday? ‘I haven't seen any at all.'

Addie pointed out between bites, ‘You said you heard a cat, when it couldn't be a cat.'

It figured she would pick this point to stop ignoring me. ‘But I never said I thought it was a ghost.' I cast back through my memory, which was possibly as flawed as my perception. But I was certain I'd been careful what I'd said. Paranoia will do that.

‘What are y'all talking about?' asked Clara as she came to the table and picked up on the atmosphere.

‘About how there's no such thing as ghosts,' I said firmly.

‘Actually' – Professor Griffith had been reading the paper, Gigi still in his lap, but he lowered it as the conversation got interesting, and reached for tea, as casually as if we were talking about the weather – ' it
is
interesting how the idea of lingering spirits is something that crosses so many cultural divisions.'

‘Professor, don't
you
start,' chided Clara.

Round the corner, I heard the door to Paula's bedroom open and close. Clara looked a warning at me. ‘Sylvie …'

‘I know, I know. Paula doesn't like superstitious talk.'

‘No. Get the dog out of here.' She dried her hands on a dish towel, then flung it over her shoulder. ‘And Addie, you eat up. You and Shawn have to scoot off to school.'

The professor handed me the dog and we exchanged guilty – though not really – smiles. Shawn stood up as well, while Addie wolfed down her eggs. ‘I'll walk you out,' he said, and gestured me ahead of him onto the porch.

Once there, I gave Gigi some breakfast, so she was happy to hang out in her crate for a while. As accustomed as I was to an audience, I was still very aware of Shawn watching me fill the dog's water bowl. ‘So, Sylvie,' he asked amiably, leaning a shoulder against one of the posts supporting the porch roof. ‘Is the English guy the reason you have other things to do this afternoon?'

I shot a tart look up at him from my crouch by Gigi's crate. I might have been more tolerant of his feeling out the competition, except for the animosity I'd seen between him and Rhys. It made my answer a little prickly. ‘No. Incredible as it sounds, I actually have other things to do.'

Shawn laughed, taking the pushy out of his persistence. ‘You don't sugarcoat things, do you?'

I arched a brow. ‘Not the second time I have to say them.'

Raising his hands in surrender, he said, ‘I get it. But let me pick you up this way, at least.' With a disarming smile, he took both my hands and pulled me effortlessly to my feet. His fingers tightened as I swayed, finding my balance, and the warmth of his skin spread to mine, up my arms, over my shoulders, soothing any irritation at his presumption.

To my surprise, I found myself rethinking my plans for the afternoon. Then Addie came banging out of the kitchen door. ‘Come on, Shawn. You can flirt with Sylvie later.'

As she stalked off to his truck, Shawn's smile softened with sheepish regret, and his thumbs trailed the backs of my hands as he let me go. ‘Duty calls. See you later, maybe.'

I made a noncommittal sound, but he was already hurrying away. Probably a good thing.

Crap. Was I really this fickle?

The energy I felt with Shawn was completely different than with Rhys. Shawn's charisma was like a highwattage lightbulb. It pulled at me like a splash of sunshine on the carpet pulls a cat on a cold day. I wanted to bask in that warmth.

Rhys's effect on me was like a magnetic field. Invisible, inconspicuous, indisputable. The thing about magnets was they could draw or repulse, depending on which end you got. And I never knew which it was going to be.