by Emily Bow
“Behind,” the chef said.
Staff scrunched up against whatever surface they were working on so he could get by.
I waited in the doorway. It was 9:30 a.m., well before the breakfast cutoff. No one would be giving me any grief today. I would take my sack upstairs and get through two boxes today. Maybe three. I’d get through a record number of boxes and record their artifacts until my fingers burned against the keyboard.
“Spinning,” Chef said. He aimed his knife.
Staff leaned forward but kept working, used to his antics. I’d have to wait until he was done now before anyone could walk my ham and cheese croissant over to me.
Sarah the dark-haired kitchen head came around the pantry. She was holding a jam jar. Today’s breakfast had to include fresh scones. That would be nice.
The jar shattered on the floor, spraying dark-purple berry jam across the pale tiles. Berries scented the air along with the coppery scent of blood.
Chapter 32
No one in the kitchen moved.
The knife stuck in the wall-mounted cutting board. Blood dripped from the blade. And down Sarah’s white sleeve.
My pulse raced. The French chef threw his knives. He had from day one. It was what he did. Staff were trained not to move when he did it. Hadn’t Sarah heard him? Why was I blaming her for his macho posturing?
I sprang forward into the kitchen where I wasn’t allowed and pointed at one of the helpers. “Get me gloves and clean cloths.”
The kitchen helper ran to a drawer and returned with what I needed. I donned the yellow gloves and went over to Sarah who stood there with shocked brown eyes, pale and swaying. “Sarah. It’s me, Imogen. Take a seat now.”
Seeping red. Too much blood. But blood wasn’t spraying, so there was no need for emergency services.
Sarah was so ashen.
I pointed at one of the others. “Get me a bowl of warm water and soap, please.”
Sarah stared at her bleeding arm with wide eyes.
“Sarah. Look at me. I’m going to clean the cut.” I tore her shirt sleeve. The wound oozed blood, which was good. Who knew what had been on the knife? I cleaned the area with soap and water.
Sarah winced but didn’t stop me. When that was done, I applied pressure to her arm. I kept talking to her the whole time, but she stayed pale and silent, and the vein kept bleeding.
I evened my voice and pointed to the most capable of the kitchen hands so far. “Call 999, and then get me a throw blanket.” I raised her arm and braced it against me while the helper called the UK’s version of 911.
Sarah didn’t even wince, just looked blank-eyed ahead.
I nodded at the chef. “Pull up a chair and put her feet on it.”
We had the blanket around her, and I was still talking comforting reassurances when the paramedics arrived and took over. They got her talking and determined Sarah was in shock and needed stitches. One of the helpers went with her to the hospital.
Two others began cleanup. The smell of bleach hit the floor as they scrubbed, removing all evidence of the blood splatter. No one touched the knife.
The French chef muttered. “I said, ‘spinning.’”
No one answered or looked at him.
I tore off the gloves and put them in the trash, then washed my hands with soap and water. The adrenaline left and my own knees were weakening.
“As you all heard,” the French chef muttered again, “I said, ‘behind’ I said, ‘spinning.’”
I stiffened my posture and moved in front of him. I looked him directly in his worried brown eyes. “Yes. You did. We all heard you. This was an accident. That said, you are never doing that again here. In your own home, what you do is your business. But not ever again here at work. There’s nothing wrong with having an accident as long as you learn from it, and we all learned from that.”
“But.” He nodded. “Oui. Not again.”
I rubbed my arms. “And you may want to pick some flowers and take them to Sarah. I left the room. I wasn’t hungry anymore. I entered my bedroom, feeling like the doctor’s daughter I was. I was capable. But medicine didn’t thrill me.
I picked up my phone and called Mom, though the hour was too early in Texas to be calling. I told her what happened, thanked her for teaching me first aid, and how to keep my head during a crisis which basically meant staying calm and calling the experts to deal with the problem. She asked me the details and checked on how I was feeling.
I was fine. My hands weren’t even shaking. We said, “goodbye,” and I processed the events again.
I had the demeanor to go into medicine. The most noble career I could think of, but medicine wasn’t my calling. Fixing the crisis wasn’t exhilarating to me. Healing wasn’t my passion. It wasn’t me.
***
I went back to the Space Agency the next evening. Day Two of the spacewalk. Not for Oliver. Not for Dad. For me.
I apologized to the organizers in person and went into the amphitheater. I’d wait there rather than go to the reception with all the guests circulating. The crowd seemed as large tonight. Maybe larger.
When it was time, I took the stage, shook the hands of two other guests, and sat down and listened through the introductions.
“Tell us about being the daughter of an astronaut,” the host said.
I breathed in and out and clasped my hands over the light blue skirt of my dress. “I know what I’m supposed to say. I’m honored and proud. Those are true. But more truthfully, I’m terrified.”
The audience shifted in British fear of emotions.
I wiped at my brow. “I think it’s important to know that because Reese Arundel isn’t just a national hero. To me, he’s Dad. And in any heartbeat, a million things can go wrong.” My voice thickened, and I clenched my fingernails into my palms and looked at the screen behind us. An image of the space shuttle glowed out.
“More important than the fear is that I know he’s doing what he loves and believes in. We all should. I forgot that for a moment until I thought about what I wanted to tell you tonight. And I really needed to remember it.” My shoulders eased, and I looked beyond the bright lights to the audience. “None of us are assured even one more moment of breath, so we should spend each one doing what we love when we can.” I waved a hand. “Now, let me put all the emotional stuff aside and tell you all his astronaut secrets.”
The audience chuckled.
I was able to smile, too. “On each mission, his team has thought of a million different challenges and outcomes. Despite that, like life, there are always blindsides. Dad taught us to have a plan a, b, and c. That gets tiresome, when you’re picking a restaurant, but his methods work.” I opened my palms.
The host murmured something my mind was too busy to process, and then the first question from the audience came to me. “Best part of having an astronaut father?”
“I can’t separate the two. He’s just Dad. And he does the best thing any dad can do. He’s there for me. Even when training takes him away. Even with time and space between us. I know in my heart he’s there for me without any doubt or exception. That’s priceless.”
There were more questions, and they brought in aeronautical experts, but they had me stay, too, in case the crowd had more questions for me. They did. That’s when I knew the session went well.
I walked off stage at the end, feeling drained but proud.
Oliver was there. He thanked me personally for answering his request and speaking to the crowd. I chatted with him and his wife before leaving.
I was at the front of the building waiting for my car when I realized Thorn was in attendance. He stood there in a dark suit. My heart eased.
Thorn looked at me steadily. “May I drive you back?”
“Thanks. Yeah.” I cancelled my driver. “Were you here the whole time?”
“Yes.” He walked me to his small sports car and opened my door. “Well done.”
“I think it went okay.” I sank into the seat. “I hope it went
okay.”
“It went really well. You did exceptionally well.”
My tension eased. I told him my childhood tale. I told the story without pain now. Tonight had eased the humiliation of the childhood taunts.
Before we reached the castle, our talk turned to his dad. It had to. “I get why you were always digging through the boxes now. Are you looking for something specific?”
“My father’s agenda book. It’s black leather, and the size of a slim book. I should have found it by now.” Thorn clenched the wheel. “But that wasn’t why I was always in the workroom. But that doesn’t matter.”
It mattered to me.
“His agenda may not even be in the castle. But the book wasn’t at his office, or in his car. And he traveled with his planner. Always. So the agenda book has to be in the castle.” He sounded frustrated. “Searching the keep has been fruitless. I’d rather lock the castle away. I almost did, despite Mom’s wishes. When I met you, I grew more comfortable, I believed you’d hand anything personal over to me. But I also simply wanted this project over with.”
“We’re digging around.” I kept my voice soft. “We’re going to uncover stuff. Someone will. You should talk to your mom. Secrets have a way of outing themselves.”
He pulled onto the castle drive and kept going up to the front door. “Absolutely not.”
“Thorn.”
He paused there to let me out. “No.”
***
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I yawned and went over to my door. I’d already taken off my house slippers and the bedroom floor was freezing against my bare feet. The only person who dropped by my room was Lily. But she hadn’t been by to chat with any regularity since gaining access to her computer.
I turned the knob and peeked out.
Thorn stood in my doorway frowning.
Chapter 33
I stood there in my coffee cup covered pajamas with my hair on top of my head in a knot, and Thorn at my doorway. My surprise could have turned in several directions had tonight been a different night, but his expression… “Whoa. What are you doing above your floor?”
“Tell me you didn’t do this. I mean, I know you were mad, but…then you weren’t.” He had no conviction or anger in his voice. He sounded lost.
So, despite his accusing words, I wasn’t put on the defensive. I was curious and upset for him. “What’s going on?”
He came into my room and sank down onto the side of my twin bed, uninvited, but almost as if he couldn’t stand. His shoulders sagged. He wasn’t himself at all. “One of my family’s news contacts reached out. They know my father’s mistress was in the wreck with him.”
Oh. I covered my mouth. Journalists were important, but sometimes they sucked. I sat down beside him. I placed my hand on his back.
“I’m not dim. You’re mad at me. You must still be. I would be. And you’re the only person who knows beside me. You know. Now the press knows. You’ve seen the evidence. You said I should tell Mum. You’re forcing my hand. You’re…” There was no heat in his words.
I lay my head against his arm. “You know it wasn’t me.”
He covered his eyes. “I know. And there’s no stopping the scandal.”
I put my arm around him, and he turned and he clutched me to his chest. I think that’s what he really came for. Comfort. I think it was easier for him to pretend he was coming up here to challenge me. But instead, he’d come up here to talk to a friend.
I lay on my side, pulling him down with me. I tucked my cold feet under the comforter and rubbed his arm, keep up the soothing contact.
He ran his hand over his dark hair. “I hate my father for putting us in this position.”
I murmured nonsense, letting him talk.
“I can’t buy this off. I tried.”
I rubbed his back but didn’t lecture him on what a terrible idea that would have been.
“The news will blow up. Ruin my father’s reputation. He can’t defend himself. Mother. You’ve heard her. She’s turned him into a saint. Now. Now.” He groaned.
“You’ll get through this.”
We lay there, and he shifted to his back and gathered me to him. I lay my head on his shoulder.
***
When I awoke, Thorn was gone. I went down to the workroom wearing a navy sweater and jeans.
Thorn was there. He stood looking out the window at the early morning light. He wore gray slacks with a white shirt, and his hands were clasped together. “I’ve asked Billy to come over, as the news concerns him, too. Will you join us downstairs? I believe he is bringing Regina.” His words were measured and they held no emotion.
I nodded. Evidently, he knew Billy and Regina were dating. But the main question in my mind was why I was invited to meet with them? I touched his sleeve, and Thorn turned to me with an arched dark eyebrow.
I closed my eyes briefly, and then opened them. “I had this thought, and it’s awkward. But I have to ask before the press does. Is Billy a part of this because his mother was in the wreck or is it…worse? Is he…a possible relative? Possibly your dad’s son, too?”
“Possibly.” Thorn’s voice was cold. He’d considered the possibility.
I couldn’t imagine how he felt, but I had to ask him the big question. Better the speculation come from me and prepare him. “I don’t know if he’s younger or older than you. If he’s older, does that make him the duke?”
Thorn had a distant look in his dark blue eyes. “Whatever my father’s failings, I don’t think polygamy was among them. I am the duke,” he said in the way men had probably said for hundreds of years. “Billy is the son of the woman who was killed in the wreck at the same time as my father. Neither deserved it. Billy has my sympathy for his loss. That is what I will relay to him.” He sounded cold and distant as if talking of strangers. He moved to the door, but slowly so I could keep pace with him. “I can control this.”
We met Billy and Regina in the portrait gallery. The symbolism of that made me stiffen. Billy was fair like the portraits on the wall. For everyone’s sake, I hoped he wasn’t Robert’s son. I hoped Robert and his mom Barbara had been having a recent fling, not a lifelong affair.
Billy came in dressed for work, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. “What’s up that we had to beat the rooster?” He looked at Regina first. Regina wore a slim-fitting peach dress with spiked heels. He grinned, but when Regina didn’t respond, his smile dropped. He turned to me, his eyes blue and wary.
I tightened my lips, and my mouth scrunched in a sympathetic wince. His face stilled and became emotionless.
The expression creeped me out, because he did resemble Thorn then, and I’d never seen a resemblance before. I blinked and shook the thought off. No. Billy simply wore a common cultural facial expression. That was all. It was proof of nothing.
“Let’s sit down,” Regina said. She moved toward a bench and chair pairing at the end of the gallery.
Billy sat beside Regina. I took the seat opposite them. Thorn stood behind an empty chair and clutched the top with both hands. He laid the whole story all out there.
Billy stood back up. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sounded rougher than he normally did.
Regina rose too. “I’m sorry about all this. Truly. But I’m afraid I need to go.” Regina looked at the door. “I promised to spend part of my gap year on the continent. And have been reminded of that recently. So, I need to follow through with my plans. I cannot be here for this.”
Billy looked at her as if her words broke him out of the thoughts racing through his mind and dumped him in the present. “You’re leaving?”
Regina didn’t meet his gaze. “Actually, yes.” She nodded. “That would be best.”
She was running away from the scandal.
Billy looked at her like she was abandoning him, and then tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “You knew?”
“Of course not,” Regina said.
“What he said.” Billy jerked a th
umb toward Thorn. “It’s not true.”
Regina gave him a pitying look, but her hazel eyes weren’t without compassion. “It’s not all bad. You’re not thick, Billy. Look around you.”
Billy turned his head fast left and right as if expecting someone to walk in.
Regina strode over to a gilt-framed picture of an ancestor in a white wig. She opened her palm in front just below his chin. At first glance, I had no clue what she was seeing, but when I looked again, the ancestor’s resemblance to Billy was uncanny. “You look like Thorn’s ancestors more than he does. This branch anyway. Must be some local genes in the mix. You do see the advantages, don’t you? Once the scandal wears off, mind you. You are a member of the aristocracy. A by-blow for sure. But one of us, nonetheless.”
Billy backed away. “We don’t know that. There are tests. My Da—”
Thorn held up his hands. His face pale. “The press will be here today. Their assumptions will be worse if we don’t to deflate the drama.” He nodded. “We’ll say we always knew. It was ages ago, and we all remained friendly.”
Billy rose, looking hunted, as if we were trying to trap him inside one of the picture frames. “We know nothing.”
My heart hurt for him.
Thorn said, “The press has wind of the story. They will come here. They will have cameras. We have to control the story.” He blew out a breath. “Regina has the right idea. She should go.”
Billy frowned and shook his head.
“Thank you.” Regina nodded and put her hand on Billy’s shoulder. “I know you understand. When this blows over, I’ll be back.” She moved to the door.
Billy’s face was pale and abandoned. He was too proud to call her back. I wasn’t. I ran to the door and caught her in the hall. I kept my voice low. “Don’t leave. Billy needs you here. Friends stick together.”
Regina’s eyes sharped. “You don’t understand anything about scandal. Muck sticks forever. Every time the society pages print a picture of you, every time your family has an achievement, the scandal will always be a footnote, even when the news is no longer a headline.”