Someone to Love

by Jude Deveraux

  There was silence after that and no one spoke for a while.

  “I think we’ve taken up enough of your time,” Jace said, standing up. “I cannot thank you enough for your help.”

  Carol and Nigh also stood up. “I only wish I hadn’t been so passive when we were girls,” Carol said.

  Nigh took the woman’s hand. “I don’t think any of this is your fault.”

  “And I don’t think that Stacy committed suicide,” Jace said.

  “But if she didn’t kill herself—” Carol’s eyes widened. “You think Tony killed her?”

  “If he didn’t, I think he may know who did. Thank you so much for this. I cannot begin to tell you how much you’ve helped me.”

  They exchanged more pleasantries, then they left Carol’s house and got into Jace’s car. For a moment he leaned back against the seat, his eyes closed. Nigh didn’t disturb him. She knew how he felt. It was a lot of information to take in. Secrets and lies. Carol had said that Stacy was full of them. Nigh would never say so to Jace, but she agreed. Stacy hadn’t told the man she was to marry about her year at an English boarding school or about a man that she was probably in love with. In normal circumstances, this would have been understandable, but Stacy seemed to have been still in love with this Tony Vine many years later. She loved him so much that she’d gone to a lot of trouble to get to see him just before her marriage. All he’d had to do was send her a picture of Priory House with a few words scrawled on the back, and Stacy had jeopardized her future with Jace to meet Tony.

  What had happened in that meeting? Nigh wondered. Had she told Tony that he’d always been the one? That she wanted to marry him and no one else? That she’d dump Jace if Tony would have her back?

  Did Tony say no? Did he say that he already had a wife and kids and didn’t want her? Is that why Stacy went to the pub and took a bottle of sleeping pills?

  Nigh glanced at Jace as he started the car and wondered what he was thinking. To Nigh’s reporter mind, it was becoming more and more clear that Stacy had killed herself.

  As far as Nigh could piece together, when Stacy was a girl she’d been worried about getting her father’s love. He was the only parent she had left, and he’d chosen his new, young wife over his daughter. From Carol’s polite description of Tony Vine, he seemed like a real sleazebag. Girls didn’t get the approval of their fathers by marrying men who wore shiny suits and dated schoolgirls.

  Nigh looked at Jace and wondered if Stacy had agreed to marry him because he was the kind of man a father would approve of. Jace was everything that a father dreamed his daughter would marry.

  “Comparing me to Tony Vine?” Jace asked.

  She didn’t want to lie. “Yes.”

  “You’re beginning to think that Stacy killed herself because her high school boyfriend told her he no longer wanted her, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Nigh said, dreading what he’d say to that.

  “Good,” Jace said, smiling. “If you think that, then you’ll be more curious to find out the truth.”

  When they reached Margate, Nigh said, “I guess I’d better go back to my house.”

  “But your things are at Priory House,” Jace said.

  “I can get them later. I have another toothbrush and nightgown, so I’ll be okay.”

  “If that’s what you want to do,” he said.

  “It’s not what I want to do, but—” Her temper got the better of her. “You and I have practically lived together since we first met. I’m sure that the entire village is talking about nothing else. And the worst part is that not a word of what they think is true. You and I are just friends and we’re working together. That’s all.”

  Jace stopped the car in the courtyard of Priory House and turned off the engine. “Friends? Is that what you think we are?”

  As he got out of the car, he was chuckling. Nigh sat in the passenger seat and frowned at him, but then she smiled and got out of the car and went into the house. She went in by the front door, not the kitchen door.

  They spent a quiet evening “at home,” as Nigh was beginning to think of it. Like two old married people—except that every time Jace got near her, her heart started beating wildly. She refused to let him see how she felt because he didn’t seem to feel the same way. Was he interested in her the same way she was interested in him? His pulse didn’t seem to quicken when his arm brushed hers. His breath didn’t seem to catch when her face came near to his.

  They talked about their futures in a roundabout way that made her happy and insane at the same time. She wanted to know if he truly meant to include her in his future. And she wanted to know what he planned to do after he found out about Stacy. Would he put Priory House up for sale and leave England forever? But then he’d said that he liked England. “In spite of all its faults” was how he’d generally put it.

  The more she thought, the less she could figure out.

  Mrs. Browne put dinner on the table, and Jace and Nigh ate, saying little, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

  After dinner they went to the drawing room and sat there in silence.

  “We haven’t found out why Ann and Danny have been appearing to us,” Nigh said.

  Jace was sitting in a chair staring at the fire. “I’m afraid we may never find out,” he said. “I think I’ll go to London tomorrow.”

  Nigh wanted to yell, “Without me?” but she said nothing. It was his decision. No doubt he was embarrassed at her having heard so much about his former fiancée.

  She gave a yawn. “I think I’ll go to bed,” she said. When Jace said nothing, she stood up and started for the door. As she passed his chair, he caught her by the wrist, then held the back of her hand to his cheek.

  “I’m sorry that I’m not very good company. I haven’t been myself since Stacy died. But I want you to know that you’re the first person who has managed to make me think that life may yet be worth living.” Still holding her hand, he looked up at her. “I promise that when I get this settled, I’ll make up for lost time.”

  She smiled down at him, then he released her hand and looked back at the fire. Feeling partly happy and partly frustrated, she left the room and went upstairs to the lady’s bedroom. A fire had been laid and it was warm and cozy in the room. But not as warm and cozy as it could be, she thought, looking at the empty bed.

  She took a bath, put on her nightgown, and went to bed. She didn’t turn off the light until she heard Jace come up the stairs and go to bed. There was a shadow under her door, and she held her breath.

  When the shadow moved, Nigh cursed, turned out the light, hit the pillow with her fist, and settled down to sleep. In spite of her annoyance at Jace Montgomery, she was asleep in minutes.

  20

  Nigh was awakened by music. It wasn’t loud, but she could hear it coming from far away. At first she was disoriented, not knowing quite where she was. As she awakened more fully, she listened. It didn’t seem to be coming from downstairs but from just outside her door. Was Jace awake and playing music? Big band–era music from the sound of it.

  She got out of bed and went to the door and opened it. Jace was just coming out of his bedroom. He had on jeans and a heavy wool sweater and a pair of leather boots. He put his finger to his lips for her to remain silent. The music was coming from the chintz room, Ann’s room. The haunted room.

  Nigh’s first instinct was to run back into her bedroom and crawl under the bed. Better yet, maybe now was the perfect time to get in her car and go home.

  But Jace’s next gesture made up her mind for her. He gestured for her to go back into her room, close the door, and get back in bed. No doubt he thought she was too cowardly to face whatever was going on in Ann’s room.

  His lack of belief in her gave her courage. She gestured for him to wait for her while she put on some clothes. It was bad enough to face ghosts, but she couldn’t do it in a nightgown. She ran back into the room and put on the same as he was wearing: jeans, a thick sweater, and boots. Four mi
nutes later, she was back in the hall and tiptoeing behind Jace toward Ann’s room.

  The door to the room was open and the lights in it were on. That wasn’t how they had left the room. Jace pushed Nigh behind him as he peered inside, looking all around, but no one was in there, no one either dead or alive.

  Nigh bucked up her courage enough that she stepped out from behind him and started into the room. Still, neither of them spoke.

  As soon as they were inside, they saw that the hidden door to the tunnel was open and the music was coming from inside it.

  Again, Jace pushed Nigh behind him as he looked into the dark recess of the stairwell. He pointed down, toward the tunnel. The music was not coming from the secret room upstairs, but from the tunnel itself.

  Nigh touched Jace’s arm and made a gesture to ask him who knew about the passage and who could be playing music inside it at two o’clock in the morning. Jace shrugged to let her know that he had no idea.

  He started into the stairwell, meaning to go ahead of her, but she caught his arm and shook her head no vigorously. She didn’t like whatever was going on. It could be that Hatch, who she was sure knew about the tunnel, had left a radio on, but she didn’t think so. Her true thought was, What the hell is Danny Longstreet up to now?

  When Jace shook his head, letting Nigh know he was going into the tunnel no matter what she said, she held up a finger to him: Wait a minute.

  She went to the fireplace and got two candles off the mantel and some matches, part of the authenticity of Ann’s room. Jace smiled at her, and mouthed “good girl.” If she could have talked, Nigh would have asked if he was also going to throw her a bone.

  Jace struck the match and lit both candles, handed her one, then he started down the old passage, Nigh about three inches behind him. She was trying to act brave, although she felt anything but.

  The music was very loud. Whoever had started it had used an old-fashioned boom box. It was Woody Herman playing now, a jazzy tune that made her think of swing dancing, the boys throwing the girls up in the air, then pulling them down to slide them across the floor between their legs.

  She smiled at the image, then remembered where she was and what they were doing. She clamped her hand onto the back of Jace’s sweater and followed him as he cautiously made his way forward.

  They were in the middle and on the floor was a big boom box. Bending, Jace turned off the music. The silence it left behind was almost deafening.

  Jace turned to her and motioned for her to stay there.

  Did he mean that she was to stay without him? She knew her fear was silliness. She had spent a lot of her childhood in this ancient place and it was as familiar to her as her own bedroom. But back then part of her security had been that she was sure no one knew she was there. How could a bad man get her if he didn’t know where she was?

  But what they’d seen and heard tonight—music blaring, bright lights, the secret door open—frightened her. She knew without a doubt that it was Danny Longstreet’s doing. He had probably greatly enjoyed his little joke of sitting by her on the bench and chatting in broad daylight. And she knew he was in Margate because she’d seen him.

  Again, Jace told her to stay where she was, and again, she shook her head no. She knew that he wanted to check the rest of the tunnel, check the outside entrance, but she didn’t want to stay there alone. Someone had been in the tunnel and it had been recently. When they’d gone to bed the lights hadn’t been on in Ann’s room and there was no music playing.

  Jace smiled at her in a way that she was sure was meant to make her relax, but it didn’t. He nodded his head. Yes, she could go with him.

  He clasped her hand in his, then took a step away from the huge, battery-powered stereo that was at their feet.

  But that one step was all he took because in the next second they heard a rumbling that Nigh had heard twice before in her life. Bombs!

  “Get down!” she screamed. “Down!”

  The rumbling was coming from both ends of the tunnel, so they couldn’t run in either direction.

  Jace understood. He grabbed Nigh and pulled her under him, then he bent his body over hers and hit the cold, hard earthen floor.

  Under him, Nigh put her hands over her ears and Jace did the same. She had no hope that they were going to live another minute. The old tunnel would collapse under bombs put at each end of the passage. If the falling beams didn’t get them, the caving walls would.

  She held onto Jace as the sound drove out all thoughts. Dust, debris, timbers, dirt that had been packed solid for hundreds of years all hit the floor and threatened to crush them.

  The two explosions happened quickly, but they seemed to go on forever. Jace held Nigh under him so that not much dust hit her. They stayed that way for long, fearful minutes, expecting at any second that the roof over their heads would come down on them. But it didn’t.

  When the noise stopped, and even the echoes had quietened, Jace moved off of her. “Are you okay?”

  Nigh could only nod. Her ears were ringing.

  The candles had gone out and they were in absolute darkness. She felt Jace fumble about, feeling the floor, looking for them. When he found one, he pulled the box of matches out of his pocket and lit it.

  Nigh sat on the floor by the stereo and watched Jace move about what was left of the tunnel. Both ends had collapsed. What was left was about ten feet of space to their right and another fifteen or so to their left. That meant that there were yards of packed dirt between them and the world.

  She watched Jace examine their surroundings. He looked at the wall of dirt, pulled some of it away, then stopped when the ancient beams over their heads began to creak. He lifted the candle to look at the barricades, and Nigh followed the light. The old beams were finally giving way. They were bowed, and about ten feet from where she was sitting she could see a fresh crack in one.

  “So who knows about this tunnel?” Jace asked, sounding as though it weren’t of vital importance.

  “More people than I knew,” she said. “Whoever put this stereo in here knew about it.”

  Jace looked down at her. “I’m sure half the village heard this explosion and they’re probably getting…what do you call them? Digging machines out.”

  “JCBs.”

  “Right. Backhoes. They’re getting the JCB backhoes out right now. Think Hatch will let them cut into his lawn? I can hear his saying that owners come and go, but lawns are forever.”

  She didn’t smile at his joke. She’d been in situations like this and she’d seen worse. They weren’t going to get out alive. In all likelihood, it would take a week before anyone realized they’d disappeared. The villagers knew that Jace and Nigh were often running off someplace and staying for days.

  “I don’t think we should lie to each other, do you?” Nigh said softly. “They won’t miss us and if they did, they wouldn’t have any idea where to look.”

  For a moment Jace didn’t look at her, then he turned slowly. “This is my fault,” he said, his voice heavy. “I knew there was danger. Stacy was killed and her murderer has done this. I meant to protect you. I meant to…”

  She looked up at him and there were tears in his eyes. She opened her arms to him and he went to her and she held him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said over and over. “I’m sorry. I so wanted to share with you that I lost my caution. I should have protected you.”

  She stroked his hair and soothed him, holding him tightly to her. “Whatever happens, I’m glad you told me about…about yourself,” she said. “But why…?”

  “Because I love you,” he said, as though that was a fact known to the world.

  “You what?” She pulled back from him to look at his face. “You what?”

  Jace sat up and leaned back against the cold dirt wall beside her and wiped his eyes. “Sorry about that. I’ve tried to keep my emotions reined in, but sometimes—”

  “I’m British, so don’t try to talk to me about emotions that are kept in. I want
to hear about the love part.”

  He looked at her as though she were daft. “I fell in love with you that first time I met you. I thought you knew that.”

  “Excuse my stupidity, but, no, I didn’t know that.”

  “Hmph!” he said in amazement. “I went to your house—uh, my house—ready to sue you, but I ended up inviting you to live with me.” He waved his hand. “More or less.”

  Nigh wanted to hear what he had to say. She wanted to argue with him, to do anything in the world rather than think about where they were and how they were never going to get out. Would lack of oxygen be the first thing that killed them?

  “All right,” she said, calming herself. No reason to go sooner than was necessary. Conserve air. “So why haven’t you touched me?”

  Jace was looking about the walls. He picked up the candle and went down the long passage. “Do you hear something?”

  “No,” she said. “I want an answer to my question.”

  “You’ll laugh at me,” he said.

  “I don’t think that anything in the world could make me laugh right now.”

  “For a year after Stacy died, I was afraid to so much as speak to a woman who wasn’t a relative. I was afraid I’d say something that would make her so despondent that…”

  “That she’d kill herself?”

  “No, I was never that bad. But I was sure that Stacy had secrets and I was afraid that there was something wrong with me because she hadn’t confided in me.” He was inspecting every surface of the tunnel.

  “We all have secrets,” Nigh said. “And Stacy had a lot of awful things in her past. She had survived the death of her mother and her abandonment by her father all in the same year. She was one strong lady.”

  Jace looked back at her. “I’m beginning to think she was.”

  “So what about the touching? You and me touching, that is.”

  Jace bent to look at the pile of dirt at the end of the tunnel that led to the outside. “By the second year after Stacy’s death and I hadn’t touched a woman, I sort of made a vow to Stacy’s spirit that I wouldn’t until I found out the truth about her death. Good or bad, I was going to find out about it.”