Whisper Falls (27 page)

Holy shit. He burned her. It didn't matter about the book. “I'll buy you another copy. A thousand copies. Whatever you want.” I kissed her on the forehead.

“I loved that one.”

My mother's sneakers rustled in the grass. She set down a large tray full of medical stuff and then knelt before Susanna. After making sure the patient had downed a couple of ibuprofen, Mom opened the first aid kit, snapped on a pair of gloves, picked up scissors, and cut Susanna's sleeve up to the elbow.

“I know this is against your religion, dear,” my mother said as she worked, “but you ought to see a doctor. It's a second-degree burn.”

“Mom.”

“Okay. Just saying.” She bent over the wound, her movements gentle.

At first, the pain must've been bad. Susanna kept shuddering. But the agonized hisses faded and the little wiggles stopped. As her comfort level improved, she laid her head on my chest as we both watched my mother dress the wound.

Mom was amazing. I'd never seen her in action. It was intense.

When the cleaning and bandaging were finally done, my mother leaned back on her heels and sighed. She scrutinized her patient from head to toe, her gaze sharpening when they reached Susanna's calves with their criss-crossing scars and scabs.

Susanna carefully adjusted her skirt so only her feet showed, and met Mom's gaze calmly.

My mother nodded curtly at the implied
don'task
message, dropped her nursing stuff onto the tray, and ripped off the gloves. “All right, I think that's it.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lewis.”

“You're welcome.” Mom picked up a bottle of Propel and held it out. “Let's get some fluids in you.”

Susanna took the bottle and looked at me uncertainly. “What is this?”

I unscrewed the top. It would save me the embarrassment of having to explain that our patient hadn't dealt with squeeze-tops before. “It'll taste a little like lemonade. You probably won't like it, but do what my mom says. Think of it as medicine.”

She took a sip, snorted, coughed, and smiled. “It's quite tart. How much must I drink?”

“The whole thing,” Mom and I said together.

We all laughed, although I wasn't sure why. It wasn't funny.

Susanna drank the rest of it, wincing the entire time. When she was done, she set the empty bottle on the tray. “You have been kind, Mrs. Lewis, but now I must go.”

“I was glad to help.” Mom frowned. “Are you sure it's okay for you to return to your…to wherever you live? You may stay here, if you want.”

They exchanged glances. Susanna's was full of pain; my mother's, full of concern. Susanna shook her head. “Thank you. I shall be fine. Truly. But I am grateful for the offer.”

I rose and pulled Susanna up with me. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

“No. It would be best to return alone.” Susanna looked at me with her gorgeous brown eyes, bright with gratitude and shimmering with something more—something that caused a fierce protectiveness to roar through my veins. She was more than a friend. More than a girlfriend. She had become part of who I was. I loved her.

It all made sense now. The changed training schedule. The chick books and dorky costume. The journeys into the unknown. All because I loved Susanna.

I loved her in ways I understood, full of physical aches and the need to be near her whenever I could. But I also loved her in ways that were unfamiliar, with an intensity that made me willing to attempt the impossible.

“Hey,” I said with a smile. My doubts about Phoebe were gone. We were going to save her, and Susanna would be next. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“I shall look forward to it.” Susanna pulled her gaze away from mine reluctantly. She turned toward my mother and bobbed a quick curtsy. “Good-bye, ma'am.”

Seconds later, she was running down the far side of the greenway.

Mom sent me a puzzled frown. “Why is she barefoot?”

“They only wear shoes in the winter.” I watched until Susanna was out of sight.

“I don't think that burn was an accident.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Damn,” she muttered under her breath. “She's been hurt before. Why did you let her go back?”

“She has a sister to protect. She won't let us do anything for her until Phoebe is safe.” I opened the gate and waited for her to pass through. “Really, Mom, I can't say anything else about Susanna right now, but I will someday.”

“Can't the law do something to her commune?”

“The law's on their side at the moment.” Mom and I had bonded over Susanna. It felt good. “I'm doing everything I can.”

“Okay. I'll just have to trust you.”

I wrapped her in a quick hug. “You were great today. Thanks.”

* * *

I hadn't found anyone to stay with while my parents were gone. Clearly, Carlton was no longer an option. He wouldn't want me around, and I didn't want to be there.

It would've been so much easier to solve if Marissa were here, but she wasn't. So, time for the backup plan—my grandparents.

I called.

A gruff voice answered. “What?”

“Hey, Granddad.” What should I do? Dive right in, or suck up first? “How are things?”

“No need to suck up. What do you want?”

A man of action. I could respect that. “While Mom and Dad are in Michigan—”

“You want to stay with us.”

I needed to take control of this conversation. “Actually, I was hoping one of you could sleep over here.”

“Not going to happen. We like our own beds.”

Okay, the alternative to Plan B. On race morning, I'd have to wake up an extra hour early, but what other choice did I have?

“May I stay with you while Mom and Dad are gone?”

“Sure thing. It'll cost you, though.”

Why hadn't Gran picked up? “How much?”

“A month of mowing, and I want the deck power-washed.”

Wow. My mother must've inherited the Unreasonable Gene from her father. But at least this option didn't involve negative cash flow. “Fine.”

“A fast answer. You must be desperate there, Mark. Must have put it off too long, waiting for a better gig.” His laugh slid into a dry cough. “I hear you want to buy a leaf vacuum.”

“Yes.” I wanted to turn all of my mowing customers into leaf-collection customers. It would keep the revenue up during the winter months.

“Good. I have a proposition for you.”

Did my grandfather sense blood in the water and was circling in for the attack? “What proposition is that, Granddad?”

“Promise to vacuum the leaves on my yard in November, and I won't check the guest bedroom at night to see if you're there.”

Wow.

My grandparents went to bed by nine PM. I could be back in Raleigh by ten. This conversation was totally working in my favor. Almost too good to be true.

“What's the catch?”

“Your grandmother is never to know about our little bargain. So she has to see you at supper each night. And I get a text each morning by eight letting me know you're all right.”

Oh, man. Did he really expect me to refuse? “Deal.”

“Nice doing business with you.”

Click.

Oh, yeah.

Less than an hour later, the front door banged. I tore down the stairs, taking them two at a time. My dad sprawled on the living room couch, laptop case at his feet, suit jacket tossed over a chair.

“Dad, I solved the problem.”

He didn't open his eyes. “How?”

“I'm staying at the lake house.”

“You sound too happy about that. Do I want to know?”

“You do not.”

“Have you explained your plans to your mother yet?”

“No. But she'll be fine with everything.” I smiled.

“How can you be so sure?” He rose to a sitting position and looked at me curiously.

“She met Susanna today. I think we're good.”

I was slow serving breakfast on Tuesday morning. I couldn't balance a tray on my bad arm, so I had to carry the dishes in multiple trips.

Mrs. Pratt and the children waited at their places. On my second trip, Dorcas hopped to her feet. “Mama, may I help Susanna?”

“You may.”

“Delilah, come with us.”

Once we reached the kitchen, Dorcas pointed at the little bit of bandage that peeked out from beneath my sleeve. “I've never seen a bandage look like that.”

“I only had one hand free to secure it.” The more I lied, the easier it became.

“It looks better than a two-handed bandage.”

Both sisters bent over my arm for a closer inspection. Delilah lost interest first. I assigned her the task of carrying spoons. She was delighted.

Dorcas placed bowls on the tray, lifted it, and followed me from the kitchen. She quickened her steps to draw even with me. “How did you hurt your arm?”

“I burned it in the hearth.”

Her silence was heavy. She looked up at me, her eyes sad and wise.

When we entered the dining room, my master had not come to the table yet. I set a bowl at his place and looked inquiringly at my mistress.

She smiled primly. “Mr. Pratt won't dine with us today. Jedidiah, the blessing, please.”

Questions hovered on my tongue, but I held them in. Dorcas was as curious as I. Surely I needed only be patient.

Once the porridge was served and the cider poured, I sat in the corner with John and Dinah. She stacked blocks, he knocked them over, and then they both looked to me for praise. Naturally, they received it profusely.

The family ate without speaking, although not in the usual absolute silence.

After a few moments passed, Dorcas sighed loudly, squirmed, and sighed again.

I smiled.

“Is there something you would like to say, Dorcas?” her mother asked.

“I would like to know where my papa is.”

“He's visiting his brother George.”

“Merciful heavens.” Dorcas glanced over at me before turning back to her mother. “Do they like each other?”

Deborah kicked her.

“Ouch.” Dorcas scowled. “I don't care what you do to me. I want to know.”

“They are brothers. Of course they like each other.” Mrs. Pratt preened, face glowing with satisfaction. “I expect Uncle George to send many gifts and treats. Your father will bring them when he returns later this week.”

I tweaked Baby John's cheeks. Days without my master? I had never experienced such a thing in eight years. Joy filled me, as if his absence allowed a sweet breeze to blow through the household.

Even better, I could set my plans in motion without his watchful eye.

Mark would not fail me. My master would not be here to stop me. We would succeed.

It was a lovely day. Without the specter of Mr. Pratt's disapproval, everyone laughed more, talked more, and smiled more. Even supper and washing seemed easier, somehow. With no requirement to trail me on my walk, Jedidiah settled happily to his lessons.

I awaited Mark impatiently at twilight. He arrived soon after me, hopped among the boulders with the ease of frequent practice, and jumped through the falls. He waved a sheath of documents.

“I found another housemaid job.”

Even had I not been in good spirits, his enthusiasm would have been infectious. “Tell me quickly.”

“Here's the advertisement from the Hillsborough paper.” He read from the top sheet, unable to suppress a glow of pride. “‘The household of Jonathan Palmer has an opening to apprentice a young woman, fourteen to eighteen, of strong constitution and pleasing manner, to accept such duties as might be given in the house.'”

His words doused me like a cold shower. Did he not know my sister's age? “Phoebe is twelve.”

“Does she have a strong constitution and a pleasing manner?”

“Indeed.” Enthusiasm lurched to disappointment. The leading families of the state could choose the best staff. They wouldn't settle for a girl when they specifically asked for someone older.

“So, she has two out of three. We'll change their minds about her age.”

I ached for it to be true. My sister would be safe in the home of a fine statesman. But why take her where she wasn't wanted? “It will be difficult.”

“I'm still giving it a shot. We're running out of time.” He folded the paper and stuffed it into a back pocket. “How about Friday?”

Three days away. I would travel to my mother's farm on the day before, thereby giving her less opportunity to share the secret with Mr. Shaw.

“They will be ready by mid-morning.”

* * *

Thursday proved to be light for chores. After dinner, I left the Pratts's property and followed the main road toward Raleigh.

It was a miserable day to walk. The air was moist and thick. Brittle weeds lined the sides of the road, their razor-sharp leaves slicing my heels. I moved to the forest's edge, where it was cooler and fragrant with pine, but it slowed my pace. Twenty minutes later, I turned onto a beaten-down track leading to my mother's farm.

When I reached the track's end, I paused in the shade and surveyed the property with a critical eye. The house brooded on a yard of hard-baked red clay. A scraggly garden lay blistering in the sun. Behind the house, a horse nibbled grass at the edge of the field, its dark tail flicking lazily.

Mr. Shaw had quite a job ahead of him.

Phoebe erupted from the cornfield, holding a pail. “Susie?” She rushed over and caught me about the waist. “I'm glad to see you.”

“I'm glad to see you, as well.” I hugged her close to me, memorizing the feel of her thin body. Phoebe was so slight. Would it not be obvious to all how young she was? Indeed, she seemed even younger than her age. Doubts chipped away at my confidence.