by K S Logan
Morvin didn’t answer, just sat there, her head bent at an odd angle and her eyes bulging grossly out of her head. There was no noise from the ward beyond the door. Where was the constant beeping, the ever-present hum of activity from outside the door? Dead silence hung in the air between them.
“Morvin, what do you want?” Grace swallowed hard, her mouth dry as cotton. She pulled the thin hospital blanket up to her neck.
Morvin began to groan softly, as she reached out a skinny gray hand toward Grace. She reached out both arms, her bony fingers like claws ready to rip the flesh from Grace’s face.
Grace backed up in the bed, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Then Morvin came at her fast, a loud shriek escaping her mouth through jagged, bloody teeth. Grace shielded her face with her arm and screamed. Then...nothing. It was like Morvin had passed right through her.
The sounds from the ward slowly returned as Grace’s breath slowed to normal. She was freezing yet clammy with sweat. Was that a dream? Did she scream out loud? When no nurse came running, she assumed not. It must have been a nightmare.
She looked at the time on her phone: 5:23 a.m. She got out of bed and splashed water on her face. Grace paced anxiously and waited until seven o’clock, when she could call Cameron to pick her up early. She couldn’t wait to get out of that room and back to Cameron’s, where she could convalesce by the fire in his warm, inviting cottage. The sooner she put this cold, grim room behind her, the better.
Grace took another look around, taking care that she wasn’t leaving anything behind. They’d need to make a few trips to get all the flowers and chocolates down to the car. Not to mention the enormous teddy bear Cameron had brought her last night. As he struggled to get it through the door, you couldn’t even see him behind it; just a giant stuffed bear pushing its way into her room.
The doctor had kept Grace in an extra couple of days, and she was becoming depressed because of it. She felt fine, why the torture? Cameron had been trying to perk her up by sneaking in some of his spaghetti and a small bottle of red wine that he hid in the teddy bear’s pants. They sipped the wine from small paper cups, it went right to Grace’s head.
The two felt like a couple of teenagers having almost been caught getting carried away in her tiny hospital bed. Thankfully, the nurse had walked in backward while talking to someone, giving them time to fix themselves.
Grace wore a coquettish grin as she zipped up her bag, playing the moment back in her mind. Thoughts of him made her feel all wiggly inside, she was absolutely giddy with love for him.
She heard the familiar whoosh of the door opening and felt her heart skip as he walked in.
“Hello there, my beauty. Ready to come home?” He brushed up against her back and kissed the side of her neck.
She tingled inside and turned to him, kissed him firmly, and whispered, “Oh yes.”
Cameron loaded up the car and brought up a wheelchair.
“No, you can’t be serious. I can walk fine for heaven’s sake.”
“I know, but apparently it’s hospital policy,” said Cameron.
“Well, I’ll take it to the elevator, but after that, forget it.”
A middle-aged nurse approached them as they passed the nurses’ station. “Miss Calhoun, the doctor is discharging you on the condition that you’ll have help at home, dear,” She looked like she had just worked a twenty-hour shift; sweaty hair, tired eyes. “Is this the case?” She gave Cameron a full head to toe scan, over her reading glasses.
“Yes, I’ll be in good hands,” said Grace as she stood up out of the wheelchair.
Cameron winked and nodded his head enthusiastically, as the nurse looked back at her clipboard.
“And there are to be no strenuous activities for at least another couple of days,” she continued.
“Well, I’m afraid we canny guarantee that one,” Cameron said with a laugh. Grace swatted him in the arm.
“Mmm, hmm,” the tired nurse gave Cameron a dirty look, “Sign here, please.”
Grace signed the form and took a seat in the wheelchair. Cameron was still chuckling as he wheeled her to the elevator. He pushed the call button with his elbow. “Germs,” he said. But it came out as ‘jehrrrams’ with his accent.
“Excuse me, Miss Calhoun?”
Grace and Cameron turned around.
A doctor was approaching them. “I just need a word in private, miss.” His expression was dour.
Foreboding filled her as she looked up at Cameron. “Okay,” she said. “But anything you say can be said in front of my...uh, my friend.”
The doctor motioned for them to follow and led them to a quiet seating area at the end of the long hall. “I’m afraid I’ve got some terrible news for you,” he said. He seemed dressed beyond his years in brown slacks and a drab tie. The fact that he was balding only added to his aging appearance, but his skin was smooth and unwrinkled. He was either old looking for his age or aging really well. It was hard to tell.
“Okay. What is it?” Grace steeled herself.
“It concerns Morvin Knowles. She is your sister, correct?”
“Yes, well...yes, she’s my sister.” Grace decided not to get into particulars at present.
“I’m afraid she was found dead early this morning. It seems she used her own hospital gown to hang herself. A nurse discovered her early this morning, but she had been there for at least a couple of hours. It was too late for any hope of saving her, I’m afraid.”
Grace was speechless.
“Okay, thank you, doctor,” said Cameron. “Is there someone we need to call?”
The doctor scratched a number on a card and handed it to Cameron. “So sorry about the news. Take care of yourselves.”
“C’mon, hen, let’s get you home.”
They drove without a word for quite a while. Cameron wanted to talk about it but wasn’t sure how to start. Then Grace broke the silence.
“I guess this means it’s actually all mine then. The money,” Grace looked at Cameron. “It’s so weird. I didn’t want any of it. My whole life, I vowed never to ask for a dime, now the whole damn thing is in my lap. It’s surreal, you know?” She turned her head and looked out her window.
“It is definitely one for the books,” he said. “I’ll give you that. Are you okay, about the news...about Morvin?”
“Strangely, Cameron, I am,” she kept her gaze on the fleeting scenery. “I have to be.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“Hello, Crossfield Morgue, I mean Books.”
“Hi, Wesley,” Grace said into her new cell phone.
“Whoops, sorry ‘bout that, boss-lady, been a little slow today,” he said.
“Glad we’re up and running again, though,” she said.
“That’s for sure. How’s it going, Grace? Have you heard anything from my brother yet?” Wesley stopped what he was doing and took a seat at the register.
“No, you guys haven’t heard from him either? That’s strange. I hope he’s okay.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time he’s gone missing in action without a word. I wouldn’t worry too much yet, Grace. He probably came across a traveling bikini convention and we won’t hear from him for months.” He chuckled. “When are you coming home?”
“I’m actually on my way now. I should be there in a few hours.” Grace was looking so forward to seeing her friends and, of course, her cat Ernie.
“Awesome. I’ll let Devi know. She’s coming round the shop with samosas in a bit,” Wesley said.
“That’s perfect. Oh my gosh, I’ve missed Devita’s cooking. I can’t wait to see you guys.” Grace looked out her window at the scenery flying by. The country was so beautiful, but she loved the city as well, and she loved her business and especially her best friends.
Grace had made some huge decisions and hoped they were the right ones. In the end, she went with her heart and made her choice final. Life is about choices when you come across forks in the road. At some point we all have to take risks. It�
�s not living if we don’t.
“Yeah, we’ve kind of missed you too,” Wesley said sarcastically. He crooked the phone in his ear while he took a sip of his Pepsi.
“How’s Ernest?” she asked.
“He’s good. Misses you, though. He gets this look of disappointment when I walk through the door. The nasty cat’s starting to hurt my feelings.”
Grace could hear him slurping the last of his fizzy drink. “Still chugging down the liquid sugar, I hear.”
“Oh yeah, sorry,” he put the pop down. “What time will you be here?”
Grace looked at the clock on her dash. “Should be there about six-thirty, if the traffic cooperates.”
“Sounds good. Umm, Grace?” he said, suddenly a bit quieter.
“Yes?”
“I’m happy you’re coming home,” he cleared his throat.
She imagined his face getting flushed, and she smiled. She’d missed him so much, missed her home. “Me too, Wes,” she replied. “See you soon.”
She turned the speaker on her cell phone off and almost missed the entrance to the freeway. She veered the car quickly to the right, swearing at herself under her breath, and drove over the dirt shoulder just in time. As she righted herself and began to gain speed to merge with the freeway traffic, she failed to notice the black SUV following her a few car lengths behind.
She used her key and entered the bookstore from the back. Grace could smell smoke slightly, but Devi was right, the damage was minimal.
She could hear Wesley and Devi chatting upfront, Wesley talking through a mouthful of samosas. Grace never thought she’d miss their bantering as much as she did. It was great to hear their voices again. She felt like she’d been gone for months instead of a few weeks.
Grace snuck quietly up to the front of the shop, keeping close to the walls. Once she was close enough to hopefully scare the pants off them, she yelled, “Hi!”
Both their heads swung round in surprise and shock.
“You bugger,” said Devi.
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Wesley.
“I’m sorry, guys. I couldn’t resist.” Grace laughed as she hurried over to hug them.
Devi squeezed her back, hard. “I called you a couple of times, Gracey. I left messages. Why didn’t you get back? I was worried.” Her eyebrows were pulled down, furrowed, an expression she often wore, even though she was the kindest woman on the planet. Grace had seen Devi’s mother with the same sour face many times.
“I know Devi, I’m sorry. I lost my cell phone, and I was dealing with so much. It was a nightmare. I’ll explain everything later, I promise. But first, I want to welcome you to...my new bookstore!” Grace swept her arms through the air like a game show model.
“What?” the two friends said in unison.
“Yeah. I bought the place from Armin. Offered him a price he couldn’t resist. We’ll be able to fix it up, Wes.” He was gobsmacked, staring at her, not saying anything. “We can get the fireplace working again and put in those wingbacks you talked about.”
“How?” asked Devi. “How can you afford this?”
“Yeah,” added Wes.
“As I said, I’ll go into full detail later. Suffice it to say, money isn’t an issue for me right now, and, if I’m smart about it, it won’t ever be.” Grace handed a set of new keys to Wesley. “These are yours, Wesley, if you’ll have them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I need you to run the place, as the manager, I mean. With a manager’s wage, of course.” She looked at Devi, “I’ve decided to stay in Scotland, live there, and restore my family estate. And also...I’ve met someone.”
“Okay,” said Devi, crossing her arms, a cheeky grin on her face. “Let’s have it.”
“All in due time, girlfriend,” she looked back at Wesley. “So, what do you say? I’ll come back often and check on things, do the books, that sort of thing, but you’ll be in full charge.” She raised her eyebrows at him, awaiting his answer.
He looked dazed as he glanced around the treasured little store. Then he turned to Grace and, with a huge grin, said, “How about freakin’ yes!”
“Yay!” Grace was bouncing up and down, her hands interlaced under her chin. She hugged him again. “Come outside. I’ve got something else to show you.”
They followed her out to the sidewalk in front of the store. Grace grabbed a rope that was attached to a cover over the hanging store sign. She made a drumroll noise as she pulled the cord, revealing newly installed signage.
“The Dusty Shelf!” said Wesley. “I can’t believe it! It’s so awesome. Wait, when did you do this?”
“Glad you like it. It’s a great name. I’m so glad I thought of it,” Grace teased.
“Hey!” he punched Grace in the arm. “Cheeky woman. Aren’t you going to miss the place though, Grace? I mean, you love this store.”
“I do, Wesley, you’re right, but after I get the estate fixed up, I’m hoping to open another, in Scotland, if I can find the right building and, of course, if we can make this one work.
“Another Dusty Shelf. Hey, there’s your name for it,” Wesley said, beaming. “You’re welcome.”
Grace laughed as she grabbed her purse and locked the door. “Let’s go eat. I’m starved. I know this great little Indian joint around the corner.” She winked at Devi and put her arms around them both as they walked down the sidewalk to Devi’s café.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Grace eased herself into the hot, steaming water. She inhaled deeply and then exhaled long and slow, letting go of any and all tension in her body.
A few days ago, she had received a call from the police, asking her to come in and identify a male body found on the shore of Blackmore River. She couldn’t be one hundred percent positive that it was Marc because his face was disfigured and severely bloated from the water. She did recognize his jet black hair and one gold-cross earring. Dental records, however, had confirmed that it was Marc Foster. The cause of death was apparently a massive blow to the head.
Would this nightmare ever end?
Apparently, Marc had been at a neighborhood pub well into the evening. He’d had a lot to drink and decided to walk back to his hotel when he was struck by a speeding car. Some young man confessed his and Keaton’s involvement after his mother noticed blood on the hood of her car.
Poor Wesley. Grace felt responsible, because Marc had only come to Scotland to see if she was all right. She hired Marc’s architectural firm to do the restoration on Craigrook, a kind of homage to honor his memory.
Grace sank into the hot water, trying to ease her sore muscles. The contractors wanted to begin insulating as soon as next week, so Grace had tackled packing the large storage room on the top floor. There was so much junk in there: LP records, film reels, old clothing, even eight-track tapes. Why did her mother hang on to that stuff?
In one corner, there was a white sheet draped over something wide and low to the ground. Grace hesitated to uncover it. These walls held so much pain and betrayal that it felt like an actual presence existed. Grace hoped, with renovations, and a good purge and cleaning, that ominous feeling would fade.
She finally pulled the sheet off, releasing years of dust in the process. Grace coughed and waved it away, then smiled with surprise at her old dollhouse. She bent down in front of it and opened the front swinging façade, remembering how she played with it for hours on end. It was still in great shape.
The mommy doll, Grace could tell by the blue apron with lace trim it wore, was lying on the floor of the small kitchen. When she picked it up, the head fell off. Sad, thought Grace, how did that happen? She picked up the daddy doll that was lying in the miniature study and found the same thing, his head was broken as well.
One of the girl dolls was in the first-floor sitting room, seated in a floral armchair. This one was fully intact. Grace searched through the little replica house for her favorite doll, the one she always thought of as herself. There it was, in the bedroom that matched
her own. It looked intact as well on the first inspection, but Grace dropped it promptly after picking it up. Sharp pieces of wood and wire were stabbed all over the little body, and it was drawn all over with red ink. Even the face was ‘bleeding.’
Wow, Morvin really was one sick woman. Revolted, Grace covered the dollhouse again, saddened by the thought that she’d have to get rid of it now. She couldn’t pass it down one day to her own children with that type of malevolence having occurred within its little walls.
Grace shivered in the claw foot tub as she replayed the image of the doll over in her mind. “Let it go,” she said quietly and closed her eyes. She sank deeper into the water and let it envelop her entirely, savoring the warmth in her bones. The old house never seemed to get warm enough. That would improve, though, with the restoration plans started, which included updates to the central heating and insulation.
She couldn’t wait to show the initial plans for Craigrook to Cameron. He was in Glasgow for a couple of days, meeting with his agent and taking care of a few things at home. He was supposed to be back at Craigrook tomorrow morning, and Grace couldn’t wait. She’d never had let him leave her in the house alone if it wasn’t for Piper, her faithful bodyguard.
Grace and Cameron had been practically inseparable since she returned from England, and she missed him desperately.
She lay there and listened to the natural noises in the room, in the house. A relic like this was always making settling noises, like old bones shifting and creaking after another long day’s work. She could also hear the rain and wind outside, made louder by the raindrops pelting off the first-floor roof that was just below the bathroom window. All the noises amplified in the spacious, clinically white bathroom.
Grace wrung out a facecloth and placed it on her forehead. The faucet was steadily plinking droplets of water into the bath.
She opened her eyes as she heard another sound, a different one. Maybe it’s the wind, thought Grace. Yeah, it’s just the wind. The way it swirled around the many edges and corners of the building made it whistle and howl in different pitches and decibels.