by K S Logan
Rain began falling hard, it stung Grace’s face, cold and cutting. “You killed them for money, didn’t you, Morvin? Because Keaton is in real trouble. I understand that. You’d do anything to protect your son.” Grace said, trying to reason with her, talk her down. “Anyone would do the same thing for their child.”
Morvin’s face turned sour, “Yes, I did it. I killed them all. Mother was being selfish with her money, and then Lena was a busybody about everything. Should’ve minded her own business, that one. And so should you!” She held the sharp knife against Grace’s cheek. Grace could feel a trickle of warm blood run down her face.
“Father was the first one, though,” Morvin continued with a straight, sober face, as though she was talking about a grocery list instead of a kill list. She heard Grace gasp. She liked it. “He had to go. He wanted to send me away. He wanted to tell everyone everything,” she looked at Grace then, her face narrowed. “He wanted to tell you everything.”
She pressed the knife harder. Grace tried to back up further and felt the railing behind her give way with a light snap. She began to fall backward as Morvin backed away, and flailed out for something to grab onto.
Grace managed to grab the bottom of the terrace floor with her left hand. Her feet scrambled to get a foothold on anything but found only air. She looked up at Morvin, who smiled down at her.
“Come on, Grace,” she reached out her hand. “All you have to do to save yourself is reach out with your right hand, and I’ll grab it.”
“Please, Morvin, help me,” pleaded Grace, her grip beginning to slip. “I can’t.” Memories of how she received her vicious back scars returned, she could actually feel the pain of that horrid day.
“Oh, that’s right...you can’t. Poor, gimpy Grace, such a sad waste of space. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
“Morvin, don’t do this. We’re sisters. I love you.”
“Sisters! We’re not sisters, you revolting little idiot. I’m your mother. Your real mother.” Morvin’s face was ticking, her head twitching. She looked unhinged.
Grace managed to get her tiptoes on a thin ridge below. It wasn’t deep, but it gave her arm some relief from the pull of gravity. “What? What are you talking about?” she asked.
Morvin looked miles away as she revealed the ugly truth. “Wilson was getting older, so his nephew came to work here. He was nice to me. I liked him. One afternoon we snuck away to the lake at the back of the property. It was exciting, I really thought he liked me.” Morvin’s eyes focused in on Grace’s and a mean sneer grew on her face. “He raped me that afternoon. Forced himself on me. Hurt me. I ended up pregnant...with you!”
Her lips were trembling. “You ruined my life. You ruined everything. I wanted an abortion, but they all said it was too late, that I waited too long to tell them.” Tears were streaming down Morvin’s face now. “I was stuck with it, while it continued to grow inside me like a vile, alien monster.” Morvin had a grimace of disgust on her face as she looked down at Grace. “I should’ve pulled you out with a coat hanger.”
“What?” Grace heard Keaton’s voice from behind Morvin. Morvin whirled around. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked her.
“Keaton! I...I...I meant to tell you,” Morvin stammered.
“You lying old bitch!” Grace heard a slap, and then Keaton’s face appeared over the edge. He began prying Grace’s fingers off the railing. “Die, you meddling cunt!” he yelled at Grace.
He smashed Grace’s fingers repeatedly with his fist, she let go and started to fall. Panic filled her body, there was nothing to grab. She was going to fall to her death.
Something flickered then in her peripheral vision, and, for a second, time slowed. She saw the flickering of tiny wings as a white butterfly lit on a thick black electric wire that ran across the building. Grace watched as the wings on the insect beat back and forth in slow motion. She felt the thick wire brush against the back knuckles of her right hand just in front of her stomach. Even though Grace’s right arm had very little strength, she somehow found the power to use it. She latched her fingers around the wire, which gave her a chance to find footing on a trellis a few feet below.
The moment passed, and time resumed its natural pace, like the play button being pushed on the remote control.
Keaton bent over the rail and watched Grace struggle with a satisfied grin. With a final crack, the rest of the railing gave way, and Keaton fell headfirst. Grace watched in horror as he landed on the garden gate below, his body impaled on the iron finials.
She heard Morvin’s anguished, painful cry from above. Grace looked up and saw her looking down at her son in terror. She watched as Morvin’s face turned instantly from one of extreme distress to extreme calm. Without emotion, she turned away from the edge of the terrace.
Grace carefully maneuvered her way down the trellis to the third-floor balcony. Her mind reeled as she tried to make sense of everything Morvin had said. Morvin is her mother? She killed their father? She was raised on nothing but lies. It was unbelievable.
She entered the house, thankful that the formal dining hall balcony was unlocked, and made her way to the kitchen to call the police. Just as Grace picked up the handset, she heard an ear-splitting scream from behind. She turned and saw Morvin running fast toward her, wildly slashing a knife. Morvin plunged the knife deep into Grace’s abdomen.
Her strength seemed tenfold, her face twisted by insane rage. Grace managed to get hold of Morvin’s wrist momentarily, but she quickly broke free. The knife came swinging down for another stab when a sudden flash of silver crashed down on Morvin’s skull.
Morvin’s black pupils rolled up inside her head as she fell hard to the floor. There, standing behind her, was Cameron, holding a bloody shovel. He dropped it at his side and ran to Grace.
“Oh my God, Grace. You’re hurt!” he said, brushing her damp hair off her face.
Grace looked down at the blood on her shirt. The stain was spreading rapidly. “Is...is she dead?”
“I don’t know,” he went to Morvin’s side and checked for a pulse. “No, she’s alive.”
Cameron grabbed a dish towel and pressed it to Grace’s wound. “Hold that firmly while I call the police.”
“You’re bleeding too,” she said when he returned to her side. “What happened?”
“Long story, just try to relax,” he replied. They kept their eyes on Morvin while they waited for the police and ambulances to arrive. Morvin lay motionless. She didn’t regain consciousness until the paramedics lifted her onto a gurney.
“She killed my boy! She killed my son! Arrest her! Arrest that stupid bitch!” Morvin thrashed around on the stretcher, yelling and screaming. They could still hear her as the ambulance sped away.
A second ambulance took Grace and Cameron to the hospital while the police swarmed through the house.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Her heavy eyes flickered open, and when they finally focused, she saw him sitting there, sleeping, still in the same spot. She smiled.
“You’re still here? Have you gone home at all?” Grace asked softly. Cameron had barely left her side since she was rushed to the hospital three days ago. She thought he was the sweetest man she’d ever known.
He woke easily, probably just resting his eyes. “Aye, I went home and fed Piper, played wi’ him for a bit. He says he misses you, and he bought you a present.” Cameron held out another box of chocolates, the third box in so many days.
“If you keep that up, they’ll have to wheel me out of here on a truck.” She adjusted herself to sit up and winced. “I think I’m getting out on Friday, thank goodness. This place is so dismal.”
The care in the hospital was good, but the building itself was in dire need of repair. The walls were chipped and scuffed, the floor faded and cracked. Grace cringed every time she looked around her room at the thought of all the germs that must be crawling on every surface.
“So soon? Do you think you’re ready?”
“I feel
better every day, just tender around the stitches.” Thankfully, Morvin’s knife had not damaged any internal organs and had only slightly penetrated the muscle in Grace’s abdomen. “How about you? How are you feeling?”
Cameron had sustained many cuts and bruises from his ordeal in the old stable building. A few were quite deep and needed stitches but, all in all, he fared quite well.
“Ach, dinna worry about me, love. I’m fine. But I’ll tell you what, you’ll be staying wi’ me until you’re ready to—” he stopped and moved to her bedside, “Are you going back home? Back to England?”
“Wow, you look so serious,” she replied, but she was glad he was concerned about her plans. “I guess I’ll have to eventually. I haven’t decided what to do with the house. I don’t know how it’s going to feel to walk back through those doors.” She patted the edge of the bed, wanting him closer. “When are you going home?”
“I’ve still got at least another few weeks of final editing to do, so I’ll be at the cottage for a while yet.”
“Are the police still at Craigrook?” she asked.
So far, the investigators had discovered several vials of toxic poisons in the shed behind Morvin’s garden. They had also confirmed that both Lena and Grace’s mother (Grace still referred to her this way and probably always would) had died of intentional poisoning. Apparently, Morvin had been slowly poisoning her mother for weeks.
Cameron obeyed gladly and joined her, perching on the edge of the hospital bed. “Grace, police have discovered skeletal remains in the back field, behind Keaton’s outbuilding. Most were the bones of animals, but some were human.” She shivered at the thought of it. He continued, “They also found this in Morvin’s garden shed.”
He handed her an antique tin box, faded and rusty on the edges. Cameron helped her open the warped lid. Tears welled up in Grace’s eyes as she took out a delicate gold chain with a beautiful pendant in the shape of a butterfly. There was also a card at the bottom of the box. She read it out loud.
“Happy fourteenth birthday, Gracey. Always remember that you are my special girl, and you can do anything you set your mind to. I have so much to tell you, so much needs to be said. Everything will be better soon, and you’ll understand. For now, know that I love you, my little flutterby. Love, Dad.”
Cameron put the chain around her neck, and she looked down at the pendant. Grace wrapped the fingers of her right hand around the shiny butterfly.
Cameron took her hand in his. “Would you stay with me, Grace? I mean until you’re healed and you figure out what to do.”
Grace couldn’t imagine leaving him. She’d have fallen apart entirely if it wasn’t for his support these last few days. He’d encouraged her to talk through the harsh realities she was facing. He’d helped her realize that although her past was a lie, it didn’t have to damage the strong, capable woman she had become. She was falling fast for him and those caring, warm, honest blue eyes.
“Thank you, Cameron. I can’t leave anyway until the will is settled, and the investigation is over. And I honestly can’t imagine staying in that huge house by myself right now, especially after all that’s happened. I can’t stop seeing Keaton falling to his death right in front of me. The doctor says Morvin hasn’t said a word since they brought her in. She saw him fall too. She must be completely devastated.” Grace looked up into his handsome face. He made her feel safe, protected, and loved. “I don’t know whether to sell the house or what to do with it. Do you think I should sell it?”
“I think there’s no hurry, darlin’,” he said with that sexy rolling ‘r’ of his.
“Come here,” she said. She wanted to hold him close and never let go.
Cameron bent down to her, and she grabbed him by his strong shoulders and squeezed.
“Ouch,” she said, feeling a pull in her stitches. “Damn. I just want to be with you, here, right now.” She was a little shocked by her own directness.
“You are feeling better,” he teased. “Must be all that chocolate I’ve been feeding you.”
She smiled at him, “You really do need to stop that,” she slapped him jokingly and felt another pull of the stitches. “Ow.”
“Take it easy, lass, or you’ll hurt yourself and end up having to stay in here longer. And I want you home wi’ me.” He gave her a cheeky smile that was enough to do her in. “I’ll go and let you rest awhile. I’ll come back tonight. Anything I can bring you, besides more sweeties?”
“Just you. Wearing nothing but a big red bow.”
Cameron laughed. “Be careful what you wish for, my dear.” He bent down again and softly kissed her. He smelled fantastic, as usual. She watched him leave the room and knew, without any doubt, this was it. She was his. Totally. Forever.
Grace tried to nap after Cameron left, but couldn’t calm her mind. She kept thinking about Keaton’s death and what that must have done to Morvin. She didn’t forgive Morvin for all the things she had done, but in some way, finally understood the deep, bitter hatred she’d had for Grace all these years.
First raped and then pregnant at only twelve years old and then being forced to have the child and look at her face every day of your life, it must have been terribly painful. Obviously, it took its toll on her mental health.
Maybe going for a walk would help occupy her mind and tire her out, Grace thought. The nurses had been encouraging her to get moving anyway and had provided her with a walker for support. She tried to lean forward and pull herself up with her arm, but the pain in her abdomen was intense. She tried leaning to one side first, made it a little farther, almost upright, but again had to back off from the burning, pulling agony. She begrudgingly pushed the call button, and a few minutes later, a perky, smiling young nurse came to help.
Grace shuffled to the elevator and took it to the main floor. She browsed a small gift shop and giggled at a collection of newborn onesies with cute sayings. One she liked, in particular, had a Star Wars logo and read, ‘Stormpooper.’
She began feeling quite sore and decided to rest by a window. A young girl and her mum were seated across from her. The girl was eating ice cream, and her IV tube kept pulling painfully every time she scooped another spoonful. The mother didn’t notice, she was too busy on her phone. Grace got up and headed back to the elevator. As she passed the child, she unhooked her stuck IV tube from the top of the pole so that it no longer pulled. The girl looked warily at Grace but gave her a slight smile, her mother still oblivious. Grace smiled back.
In the elevator, Grace glanced at a map of the hospital. She saw that the psychiatric ward was located on the second floor, one floor down from hers. As the doors were closing, Grace shook her head and hastily pushed number two.
Grace pushed her walker up to the desk and said, “Is it possible to see Morvin Knowles?”
A large nurse with a thick neck replied, “Who wants to see her? It’s family only, at the moment.” The nurse raised her eyebrows at Grace in question. She was wearing Snoopy scrubs.
“I’m her sister...er,” Grace stammered, “yes, her sister.”
“Sign in here,” she said and handed Grace a form attached to a clipboard.
As Grace signed the form, she asked the austere nurse, “How has she been?”
“Never a problem. In fact, Ms. Knowles hasn’t said a word since she got here. We’re keeping her calm with sedation but keep things nice and mellow when you see her, all right?”
“Of course,” said Grace.
She led Grace to an antiseptic, impersonal television lounge that a few other patients were occupying. The walls were painted putty-pink, adding to the room’s cold, unwelcome atmosphere. A bake-off program aired unwatched in a far corner on an old television. The host’s plastic voice echoed off the blank walls.
One woman, maybe in her twenties, sat in a wheelchair, off by herself in front of a barred window. She was pulling out thick clumps of her hair, seemingly oblivious to the pain it must have caused. She would then open her hand, let it go, and watch i
t fall to the ground. Another woman sat in a wooden rocking chair, weeping non-stop. Someone else down the hall screamed at the top of their lungs like they were being tortured.
How can anyone get well in this place? Grace wondered.
They wheeled Morvin into the room, and her appearance astounded Grace. She must have aged twenty years in the past week. She held her head in her hands, not once looking up at Grace.
“Morvin? Hi, Morvin, how are you feeling?” Grace asked in a low voice. No response. She tried again.
“Morvin? It’s me, Grace.”
Then everything went haywire. In an instant, Grace found herself gasping for air, staring into Morvin’s wild, bloodshot eyes. Spit flew through her clenched teeth as she tried with all her strength to squeeze the life out of Grace.
She kept growling, “Die, you bitch, die, you bitch.”
It took three nurses and one orderly to get Morvin off of her. As they carried her away she just kept yelling, “Die, die, die!”
Grace’s neck was scratched, bleeding, and badly bruised. Tears streamed down her cheeks as a nurse saw to her fresh wounds. She couldn’t wait to get out of there but was asked to stay and file a report on Morvin. When she was finished, an orderly pushed her back up to her room in a wheelchair. She was glad for that, her legs felt like rubber. Grace knew now she had to face the fact that there was simply no hope for Morvin. Maybe there never was.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Grace was putting her belongings into the bag Cameron had brought her the night before. She was finally being discharged this morning.
She’d barely slept a wink last night, tossing and turning for hours. She sat up to puff her flat, pathetic excuse for a pillow when she felt she was being watched. Grace looked nervously at the chair at the end of her bed and saw Morvin sitting there quietly, looking at her.
Grace called out to her, “Morvin? What are you doing here?”