Girl at the Grave

by Teri Bailey Black

  When I turned around, I found Rowan standing near the table, staring at the pieced-together painting.

  “Where did you get this?” he asked.

  “I saw your grandmother cutting it into pieces after Mr. Oliver died. I’d thought he’d painted it, so I saved it. I don’t know why.” I shrugged. “To remember him, I suppose.”

  “He didn’t paint it.”

  “I know that now.”

  “You can burn it in honor of my grandmother.” Rowan turned from the painting, reaching for my hand. He drew me to him, and it felt good to go there, to lean against his chest and feel his arms around me. To hear the low rumble of his voice. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you these last few weeks. I know it’s been hard. But I’ve never seen my grandmother in such a fury. I kept arguing with her, then realized I was only making it worse. So, I pretended to go along with it. I stayed away to protect you, Valentine. She watched me like a hawk, and I had to play my part.”

  I remembered the way Rowan had looked sitting next to Philly at that dinner party, surrounded by shimmering wealth. If he ran away with me, he would lose all of that. Harvard. His architectural apprenticeship. Ownership in Blackshaw Bank. Even his friends. His entire life, gone because of me.

  “You’re quiet,” he said, his hands moving to my shoulders.

  “You have a promising future, Rowan.”

  “With you, I hope.” He dipped his head to look at me. “I know this seems sudden, but it isn’t sudden for me. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Valentine.”

  “But … is that enough?”

  His expression turned wary.

  And I knew that I should reassure him. That I should kiss him and lose myself in romantic madness and everything would be all right.

  But suddenly, my head throbbed louder than my heart. I gently removed myself from his arms. “I need to think,” I admitted, stepping back.

  Rowan watched me, his eyes flickering with orange firelight. “It’s a big decision. I want you to be as sure as I am.”

  “I just can’t help wondering—”

  In the window, I saw movement. I lifted my eyes—and gasped.

  Sam was walking past the window … and glanced inside.

  28

  The door banged open and Sam strode in, as large and alive as I’d ever seen him, his expression livid. “So this is what you do when I’m away?”

  Two truths immediately sharpened inside me.

  First, the affection I felt for Sam was nothing in comparison to the intensity and complexity of emotions I felt for Rowan.

  Second, if Sam guessed what had just happened in this room, he would attack Rowan with violent fury.

  I had to lie.

  “You’re back!” I cried with false brightness, going to him, moving past Rowan—feeling Rowan’s eyes on my back. I nearly embraced Sam out of habit, but his posture was so rigid, his temper so close, I settled for taking hold of his arms, which were damp. “Is it raining again?”

  Sam’s gaze shifted from me to Rowan, trying to understand what he’d interrupted. He must have seen Rowan’s disheveled shirt and hair. My flushed cheeks. The heat in Rowan’s eyes. He must have felt the nervous guilt pouring off me.

  But he couldn’t be sure. “Why is he here?”

  “We were just—” My mind raced. “We’re the valedictorians. We have to give speeches at commencement. Sit on the stand. We wanted to make sure our speeches weren’t too similar. We both have to speak.” I was babbling, my face burning.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Sam’s head tilted, his eyes narrowing. “What does that mean—valedictorians?”

  “I had the highest scores for the girls, added up over four years.”

  He lifted his chin toward Rowan. “And that privileged pup had the highest for the boys?”

  Rowan sniffed with disdain. “At least I know the meaning of the word valedictorian.”

  Sam surged forward, but I grabbed his arm with all my strength, holding him back. I could feel the hatred snapping between them.

  “Don’t fight—please!” I looked to Rowan, tight annoyance crawling up my spine. Couldn’t he see that I was trying to save him from a bloody face four days before graduation? “Rowan was just leaving—weren’t you, Rowan?”

  Rowan’s eyes narrowed on me, and it was hard to believe he was the same person who’d stared at me with such tenderness a moment ago. He looked more like Mrs. Blackshaw’s grandson than the person I loved. “I suppose I was … if that’s what you want.”

  “It is,” I said tersely, still gripping Sam’s arm. “I think we’ve said all that needs saying tonight. We can talk more tomorrow.”

  “If there’s anything left to say,” Rowan said coolly. He grabbed his jacket off the rocking chair and strode toward the door.

  I’d left his side the moment Sam walked in the door—after voicing hesitation about running away. That’s all Rowan knew.

  “Next time you have something to discuss with my fiancée, you’d best do it when I’m around!” Sam called after him. “It ain’t proper, you visiting alone!”

  My heart dropped.

  Rowan’s hand froze on the door latch. “So,” he said carefully, keeping his back to us. “The two of you are engaged?”

  “That’s right.”

  “No, not … officially,” I protested.

  “She said yes, and I just bought a ring.”

  Sam had just blurted in anger what should have been a romantic surprise. And for some inexplicable reason, that made me furious at Rowan. Who was he to judge what I’d promised Sam in the last week? He’d made promises of his own.

  “Just go,” I ordered, biting back my temper. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “No need. I think we’re finished.” Rowan opened the door, and I saw the slash of silver rain before he stepped through. The door slammed shut.

  “Arrogant ass,” Sam seethed.

  “I hate it when you act like that,” I snapped, stepping away. “Like you’re one of your wretched brothers and can’t go five minutes without punching someone. You don’t have to break into a jealous rage every time you see me talking to someone—”

  “Only him! You said the two of you were finished. I don’t ever want to see him in our house again.”

  “Our house?” I whirled on Sam, my emotions unleashed. “This isn’t our house—it’s my house—and I’ll entertain whomever I like!”

  “Is that right? Is that what you do when I’m gone? Entertain Rowan Blackshaw?”

  “Sometimes!” I admitted. I turned to face the fire so Sam couldn’t see my flaming face. He had good reason to be jealous—more than he knew. I shuddered to think what he would have seen if he’d arrived a few minutes earlier.

  My chest rose and fell. I had to tell Sam the truth—that I didn’t love him and couldn’t marry him. But not tonight. Not with his temper so hot and Rowan only a few steps away and my head churning with confusion.

  I pressed my hands against my warm cheeks. I loved Rowan, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend the rest of my life in foreign countries, using a different name, always afraid someone would recognize me. I would never meet my real father. Or Alvina Lunt. And Rowan would lose even more.

  Running away would end so many possibilities for both of us.

  How had everything suddenly become so bitter and complicated?

  “I bought you a ring,” Sam said gruffly.

  My heart sank. I shook my head, keeping my back to him. “I don’t want it tonight. Not like this.”

  “Does that mean we’re not engaged anymore? Because of one fight?”

  I turned and found him holding a small, black box—and my chest hollowed out with regret. He’d been giddy since that first kiss. “Oh, Sam. We never were engaged. I told you that. I told you I needed more time.”

  “That’s what you said, but that’s not how you acted.” His jaw tightened and released. Outside, thunder rumbled. “So, that’s how it is, then?
I ride for hours in the rain just to see you, and you don’t want my ring? Fine, then. I’ll keep it for someone else.” He stuffed the box into his pocket.

  “Sam…” But there was nothing I could say to fix this.

  He gave a bitter laugh. “I’ve been a right fool.”

  “No—”

  “My pa was right about you. He’s had plenty to say since those bodies were found. Won’t stop hounding me.”

  “Oh?” Annoyance prickled. I’d never told Sam about his father stealing lumber and finding the bodies first. “What has your father had to say?”

  “That you’re just like your ma.”

  “Your father didn’t even know my mother!”

  “He knows more than you think—more than you know. He used to see her in the woods with Nigel Blackshaw—a married woman!”

  His cockiness infuriated me. “Your father is a thief! He ripped apart my stable in front of my poor father and Birdy, with no qualms or consideration! He offered to bury them for me, so no one would know!”

  “Your ma tempted Nigel Blackshaw and then killed him! You can’t deny that!”

  “I do deny it! My mother never killed anyone!”

  “Guess that means you’re delusional too.” Sam turned and strode toward the door. “I count myself lucky to escape while I can—still breathing!” He left, and the door slammed shut for the second time that night.

  I quickly barricaded the door with the worktable. Then I slid to the floor, pulled up my knees, and sobbed.

  * * *

  The storm attacked with ferocity as I put myself to bed—wind screaming, rain battering, lightning flashing. Branches clawed at my bedroom window. I lay on my back, staring up at the dark ceiling, listening to the demons howling outside.

  I touched my lips.

  Rowan loved me. He wanted to run away with me.

  It was a foolhardy plan for a hundred reasons, but living without Rowan—knowing he would marry Philly—was impossible.

  So, I would do it. I would run to Europe with Rowan. My heart fluttered with both the thrill and terror of it. He’d left angry, but I would find him at school tomorrow and assure him that I loved him.

  And Sam must be told the opposite.

  Oh, Sam. He would know at once that Rowan was the cause. If he mentioned it to a friend at Hale Glass, word might get back to the company’s owner, Mrs. Blackshaw, and she would know that Rowan wasn’t keeping his end of the bargain. Her lying witness would go to Sheriff Crane, and I would be arrested before I had a chance to flee.

  Which meant I couldn’t tell Sam anything. I would have to disappear without saying goodbye, leaving my heart in a letter, giving Sam no chance to reply.

  My thoughts sank deeper. After I’d run away, everyone would think I was guilty. That I’d killed three people I loved. Sheriff Crane would look no further, and the real killer would never face justice.

  The real killer.

  It had to be Mrs. Blackshaw. That’s why she hated me so much: she knew I killed her son. She’d kept my secret so no one would know that she’d blackmailed Judge Stoker into hanging an innocent woman. But she’d confided in Mr. Oliver, and when Father scolded her, she’d killed him. And then Birdy, a witness. She’d even arranged a lying witness against me, hoping Rowan wouldn’t keep his end of the bargain so she could finally see her son’s killer punished.

  Everything fit.

  But right now, I didn’t want to think about Mrs. Blackshaw. I touched my warm lips.

  Rowan loved me.

  Outside, lightning flashed and demons howled. But I closed my eyes and refused to listen.

  29

  The next day at school passed like a strange dream.

  With only a few days left at Drake Academy, my senior classmates bounced with restless energy. Even the teachers were in celebratory moods, done with serious studies, chatting with the students about their own summer plans as they cleaned out desks and cupboards.

  Word spread that I was the valedictorian, but with everyone’s moods so bright, no one seemed to mind. The board of trustees had chosen me, and that seemed good enough for them. Jane Stiles leaned toward me in Latin class. “I told everyone you didn’t kill them. And now they know I was right.” As if the board of trustees had been my judge and jury and found me innocent—my case argued by Mrs. Blackshaw as part of her bargain with Rowan.

  I needed to talk to Rowan and assure him that I loved him and wasn’t engaged to Sam. I lingered in the main hall after lunch as the boys descended for their own lunch hour. My heart swelled when I saw Rowan on the staircase. He saw me, and I took a step forward, but he quickly looked away, his expression tightening as he disappeared into the dining hall.

  Because of his grandmother, I reminded myself.

  But I’d seen a harder emotion simmering at the back of his eyes and knew he was thinking of Sam and doubting how I felt about him.

  In sewing class, Miss Dibble approached me with her whispery voice. “Oh, Valentine! Congratulations on being valedictorian. I’m so glad to know that all that nasty business is behind you.” Like everyone else, she couldn’t imagine that a valedictorian could have killed anyone.

  “Thank you, Miss Dibble.”

  “You must allow me to help you dress. I used to do all my friends’ hair when I was your age. In fact…” She glanced over her shoulder, then leaned closer. “I used to do your mother’s hair, which was just like yours. You must come to my apartment one hour before commencement, above my brother’s tailoring shop.”

  It was a kind offer, and I agreed.

  School finally ended, and all the students made their way to the dining hall. Twice a year, Mr. Bonet and his fiddler visited Drake to teach ballroom etiquette and the newest dances from Europe. The girls lined up along one side of the room, and a larger group of boys lined up on the other. Mr. Bonet clapped his hands and ordered everyone to find a partner, and the more assertive boys surged forward to avoid dancing by themselves.

  My eyes followed Rowan as he approached Philly.

  “Valentine,” Simon Greene said, extending his hand. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” I replied as we’d been taught. I placed my hand on Simon’s arm, and he led me to one of the squares forming for the quadrille. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Rowan and Philly joining another square.

  I usually enjoyed dancing, but today, Simon had to prompt me with subtle touches and tugs on my hand. Every time I turned, I saw Rowan and Philly moving in graceful unison. Their bodies turning. Their hands touching and releasing. Philly’s eyes never left Rowan’s face, and I knew she and her mother would dissect every moment when she got home—every word Rowan had spoken, every place he’d touched her, every hint he may have offered. Philly stumbled, and Rowan saved her with an arm around her waist. She looked up at him with a breathless smile.

  My heart tugged.

  They made a beautiful couple. Philly was a sweet person when she wasn’t with Lucy, and she would have made a good wife for Rowan. A proper wife for fancy dinner parties.

  But Rowan loved me.

  And would lose everything because of me.

  I fought against the dark mood settling over me.

  We needed to speak, but I wasn’t sure how to arrange it. After dancing, I lingered near the school stable and finally saw Rowan striding toward the building. I made sure he’d seen me, then entered the woods.

  I waited near the boulders, pacing, unsure if he would come. He finally appeared on the trail, but I could see that his mood was as dark and churning as my own. Before reaching me, he tilted his head toward the trees and walked into them, and, after a moment’s surprise, I followed. I wound my way around dense underbrush and gnarled trunks, stepping over fallen logs.

  “So … you’re engaged to Sam,” Rowan said over his shoulder. “You might have mentioned that. But I guess your mouth was busy.”

  Annoyance rose up my spine, but I pushed it down. I’d yearned to talk to
him all day and wouldn’t waste it on pettiness. I glanced back and saw that the trail had disappeared and we were buried in lush privacy. I stopped walking. “Rowan.”

  He turned to face me, but remained two strides away, his posture rigid.

  “I’m not engaged to Sam. He asked me, but I told him I needed more time.”

  Doubt flickered in his eyes.

  “I don’t love Sam. I only went to him last night to protect you so he wouldn’t know we’d been…” Kissing sounded too small a word for all that had passed between us. “Surely you know that? He would have beaten you senseless.”

  “You don’t think I can handle myself against Sam Frye?”

  “No. Not when he’s in a jealous rage. And he had reason to be jealous; you know he did.”

  Rowan’s lips twisted and released. “I spent all night wondering if after I left … if the two of you…”

  My face warmed, because I had shared passionate kisses with Sam in nearly that same spot. “I refused to take his ring, if you must know. Which he didn’t take very well. He left soon after you, furious.”

  “So…” Rowan drew a deep breath. “You’re not engaged?”

  “I’m not engaged.” I moved closer, trying to smile. “There were days when I thought I would marry Sam. But last night…”

  Rowan waited, his body taut.

  “I love you, Rowan.”

  He released a groan and drew me into his arms, kissing me before I could catch my breath. A desperate kiss. A starving kiss, but so different from last night—Rowan’s body too tight, my own too wary. Both of us fighting the doubts.

  Our lips soon parted, but I kept my arms around his shoulders, holding him close, waiting for his body to relax and his breathing to slow. “I love you,” I insisted, needing him to believe it. My lips brushed his cheek. “I love you.” I kissed his lips like a feather, and when I pulled back, his mouth followed, desperate to believe.

  I closed my eyes and believed with him for a while.

  “You don’t know the dark thoughts I’ve had,” he whispered.