“It’s not your job to tidy up,” he said. “We have help for that.”
She nodded. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
He sighed at her prodding, looking more embarrassed than irked. “I don’t react well to the sight of blood.”
Moved by his humble admission, she smiled. “No, you don’t.”
To her relief, he smiled too. “I’ll send Florence up.”
He stepped from the room, leaving Gia alone with her poignant thoughts. The surprising discovery that this proud, virile man possessed such a frailty touched her deep down. The swell of warmth in her chest intensified, budging loose something burrowed inside her.
She cared for him now…
She had to warn him about her visions. She had to do something with what she knew. Landen wouldn’t end up in the creek as a result of some mishap. He wouldn’t fall or be tossed from a horse. The vision foretold what she’d suspected all along.
Someone was going to kill him.
Chapter 13
They had just finished luncheon when Florence announced that Landen had a visitor awaiting him in the parlor. Clara paused her prattling long enough for Landen to excuse himself before resuming her oration on every tiresome detail regarding the upcoming weekend and the highlight of the season, the Westcott Ball.
Gia was more interested in who Landen’s visitor might be. In the two weeks since she’d experienced the horrible vision of Landen being beaten, she’d resigned herself to the disheartening fact that everyone he knew was now a suspect.
While she’d met several people at the garden party, reception, and a handful of other small affairs in town, the Westcott Ball would provide her with introductions to everyone.
As though reading her thoughts, Clara said, “Everyone will be there. The hotels are nearing full capacity already. Several eligible young men will be in attendance as well.” She directed a nod at Alice, who rolled her eyes in return.
Gia shook her head at the poor girl’s unenviable position. Now that Landen was finally married, it seemed Clara had set her sights on finding a husband for Alice.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, missy,” Clara scolded. “It’s high time you cease this wallflower nonsense. You’re a lovely young woman and must act before losing your bloom.”
“My bloom?”
Clara waved off her niece’s derision. “You know what I mean. And you’d do well to follow my guidance. I listened to my mother’s advice and was engaged during my very first season.” She puffed her ample bosom. “I don’t need to remind you that your Uncle Howard was the most handsome, sought-after bachelor in Albany when we met.”
“So you’ve mentioned,” Alice muttered.
Before Clara had a chance to respond, Landen returned to the room. His somber expression conveyed something was wrong.
“What’s the matter?” Gia asked.
“Tom Bidwell had some distressing news,” he said. “The Toomey boy is missing.”
“Missing?”
“He went fishing alone yesterday morning and never returned home. His family searched all night. They found his bait can and pole on the shore. His line was snagged on a log in the water, and they fear he may have drowned trying to retrieve it.”
“Dear Lord,” Clara uttered.
Gia gulped. She clutched her skirts to combat a surge of panic as she recalled her brothers’ drownings and the memory of being trapped beneath the ice, the water flooding her lungs.
“I’m going up to the Toomey house as soon as I load the boat in the wagon. The current is strong at the lake’s outlet, and as many boats as possible are needed for the search.”
Gia summoned her voice. “I’ll go with you.”
Landen shook his head. “There’s no time—”
“I am coming.” She stood, turning to Alice. “May I borrow your wrap?”
“Of course.” Alice handed Gia the wrap on the back of her chair.
“Gia, no,” Landen said, stopping her in her tracks. “I am going alone.”
“Your wife should be with you,” Clara said with a pointed stare. “As a show of support for the Toomeys.”
Landen sighed, turning to Gia. “All right. You can stay with Edna Toomey while we search. Tom told me the woman is beside herself.”
“Understandably so,” Clara said in a pitying tone.
“You’ll be all right here with Alice?” Landen asked Clara.
“Yes, yes,” she said, waving them toward the door. “Go.”
With the boat soundly secured in the back of the wagon, Gia and Landen departed for the Toomey house on the other side of Misty Lake. The silence between them seemed to lengthen the miles, as did Gia’s fears for the missing boy.
“Sam and Edna are good people,” Landen said suddenly. “The boy is their only child.”
He stared straight ahead as he spoke, his profile tense. His concern for his friends ached through her veins. Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch his hand. To acknowledge his worry and the compassion that dwelled in his heart.
“They will find him.”
He turned to face her, looking incredulous. “Are you always so blindly optimistic?”
The question stemmed from her positive affirmations during Clara’s illness, so she took no offense. How could she? From his perspective, her certainty that Clara would recover had probably seemed naïve at the time. But Landen had a tendency to expect the worst, and Gia couldn’t resist the opportunity to remind him of this.
“Are you always so pessimistic?”
He frowned. “Optimism leads to disappointment. Eventually.”
“And pessimism leads elsewhere?” She shook her head. “Without hope there is nothing.” She lifted her chin against any rebuttal.
Tilting his head, he studied her closely. “Well then, I hope you are correct regarding the Toomey boy.”
Gia hoped so, too, and she uttered a prayer to this end as they journeyed along.
They ascended the steep hill through the pines, and the small cottage overlooking the lake finally came into view. A throng of people overflowed from the porch and into the small clearing that served as a yard.
Gia gazed around as she waited for Landen to unload the boat. The crowd consisted of several familiar faces, many of whom Gia recognized from the garden party and wedding reception. But there were no cheerful greetings today, no smiles or sounds of laughter in the air.
“Go on into the house and see what you can do for Edna,” Landen told Gia. “I may be a while.” With a nod, he urged her toward the house, then joined with the men preparing for the search.
Gia made her way across the yard, past a large collection of lanterns and rakes. Her stomach turned as she imagined the little boy’s lifeless body being buoyed to the water’s surface on the end of one of those rakes.
Swallowing hard, she stepped onto the porch and through the open door. She shimmied through the crowd in the hall to the parlor. Edna Toomey sat on the sofa, barely visible inside the circle of woman attempting to console her.
Gia inched toward Edna, whom she’d met only once, then knelt in front of her. “Mrs. Toomey?”
“Oh, Mrs. Elmsworth.” Tears welled in her swollen eyes. “He’s only seven years old. Where on earth can he be?”
“They’ll find him.” Blinking back tears of her own, Gia patted Edna’s hand, hoping they’d find him alive.
“They think he drowned,” Edna said, as if reading Gia’s mind. “But my Georgie knew better than to go into the water alone.” She dabbed her tears with a handkerchief. “He’s a good boy.”
Gia’s heart wrenched at the woman’s inconsolable anguish. Gia staved back tears as the memory of her mother’s grief over the loss of Gia’s brothers pervaded her mind. Her head filled with the echo of the tormented sobs, the pointed silence—the unspoken accusations that plagued Gia the most.
“Such a good boy.” Edna sniffed.
“Let me get you some w
ater,” Gia said, as if more water might help.
The woman nodded, and Gia left on her invented errand. On the way to the kitchen, she scanned the empty corridor that led to the rear of the house.
No one would notice if Gia disappeared for a few minutes. She summoned her nerve, then backed from the crush of bodies in the hall. Inching down the narrow corridor, she gazed into the first room, then the next until she found the boy’s bedroom.
She slipped inside the small room, closing the door quietly behind her. Stepping onto the worn rug, she meandered past the open toy chest, sidestepping a wooden horse and toy train. She sat on Georgie’s small bed, caressing the pillow upon which he rested his head each night.
When the pillow produced no results, she set it back in its place, then grabbed the stuffed bear next to it. Hugging the raggedy thing to her chest, she took a deep breath. The din at the front of the house began to fade.
Her ability had never felt more under her control, as though it were just below the surface, awaiting release. Closing her eyes, she emptied her mind, unleashing whatever might come.
Her ears buzzed as a vision materialized in the distance. The temperature dropped. Gooseflesh formed on her skin. She followed the sound through the darkness, steeling herself against the fear of what she might see. The musty smell of dirt clogged her throat. The sound of frightened whimpers filled the darkness around the small form huddled in the dirt.
Gia gasped. The boy hadn’t drowned. He was trapped.
She opened her eyes, heart pounding. The urge to race from the room to relay her news gave way to exhaustion. She tossed the bear aside but was too drained of strength to do anything more.
After breathing deeply for several moments, her pulse finally began to slow to an even tempo. Unable to rein her excitement, she shot to her feet, then hurried back to the parlor. Shoving her way into the room, she addressed anyone who might listen.
“Is there a cave nearby? Or a mine shaft, perhaps? Someplace where Georgie might be trapped?”
The women stared, surprised by her outburst.
“Is there?” Gia asked of the startled faces.
“He could be trapped,” Edna uttered. She considered the prospect, her weary eyes brightening with life. Hope.
…Optimism leads to disappointment… She brushed off Landen’s grim words. The boy was alive.
“Is there a mine shaft? Does anyone know?” Gia pressed.
The ladies looked to one another for answers, shaking their heads.
“I think there’s an old well on the White property,” Edna said as she stood.
Gia nodded, encouraged. “We must find out.”
She hurried outside, Edna and the other women on her heels, to where Landen and the last group of men were just embarking on their search.
“Landen!” she called, fairly breathless with excitement.
He strode toward her, brows raised at the clutch of chattering women behind her. “What is it?”
“It just occurred to us that the boy may be trapped somewhere. In a cave or deep hole.” She paused briefly for breath. “Edna says there’s an old well on the White property.”
“They searched the White property last night,” he said. “They’ve searched every inch of the area. They didn’t find or hear anything.”
“But the boy may have been sleeping or unable to call out for help,” Gia said.
Landen frowned, glancing over her shoulder. Taking her arm, he led her a few steps away. “The boy was at the lake. His fishing gear—”
“Edna said Georgie was not allowed to go into the water by himself.”
“Children don’t always do as they’re told.” He lowered his voice, leaning closely. “Gia, please. This is difficult enough for Edna without you making it worse.”
“I’m not trying to make it worse. You don’t know for certain he drowned.”
“And you don’t know that he hasn’t.”
But she did know. She lifted her chin. “I—”
“We’re searching the lake,” he said sternly.
“But—”
“And you are doing the woman no good by giving her false hope.”
“There is no harm in hoping.”
“And when the boy’s pulled from the lake?”
“If he has drowned, she can mourn then. Until that time, she can hope.”
“Elmsworth!” Tom called. “Let’s go!”
“Take Edna back to the house, and let us conduct the search of the water before it gets dark.”
Gia tossed a glance at the group of impatient men watching their exchange. “Fine.” She straightened her spine. “We women will conduct our own search.”
“You will do no such thing,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “That woman has been up all night. She’s in no state to go traipsing through the fields after vain hopes you’ve sowed in her head. Now take her back to the house and wait for us there.”
While he might be right about Edna, Gia refused to submit to his commands. She’d vowed to never again allow anyone to control her—to stop her from doing what her visions led her to do. Had she not succumbed to her parents’ browbeating, Prudence would still be alive.
“The other women can stay with her. I will go on my own.” She started away.
He grabbed her arm. “Listen to me—”
“No.” She yanked free.
He stared, stunned by her defiance.
Disapproval circulated among the men who watched on. Ignoring their grumblings, Gia said, “We are wasting time. If Georgie is in the water, we’re already too late to save him. But if he’s trapped somewhere…” She’d felt the boy’s fear during her vision, felt his pain. He was hurt. She swallowed a sob, tears welling in her eyes. She had to trust her ability, no matter the cost. “Please, Landen.” She clutched his arm. “Please.”
* * * *
Despite his vexation at his wife’s obstinate behavior, Landen felt himself caving beneath Gia’s desperate plea for his help. Tears shimmered on her lashes, and it took all the strength he possessed not to pull her into his arms to calm her hysterics.
Staring into her dark eyes, he felt his throat tighten. He’d never seen her like this. He’d brought her here hoping she might help comfort Edna. She’d been such a comfort to Alice during Clara’s illness. Truth be told, she’d been a comfort to him, too, although it pained him to admit it.
He took a deep breath. “All right,” he said. “Wait here.”
Embarrassed and frustrated by his certainty they were wasting time, he strode toward the waiting men to explain the situation. With each step, he rued succumbing to Gia’s appeal, but she’d left him little choice. Edna and the other women seemed convinced Georgie had fallen into a hole, and Landen had no doubt Gia was responsible. Edna’s fragile state had her teetering on the edge of reason, and there’d be no way around investigating their unlikely theory now.
For Edna’s sake, Landen persuaded Henry Whalen and Tom to join him on a quick search of the White property before heading out on the lake.
“Tom confirmed there’s an old well on the White property,” Landen murmured to Gia. “Henry and Tom will go with me there before we head out on the water.”
Exhaling in relief, Gia nodded, looking grateful for their assistance. At least she had the good sense to realize the men were better equipped to rescue Georgie than she was.
Despite Landen’s directive, Edna refused to remain at the house. Flanked by her friends, she clung to their arms as tightly as she clung to the hope they’d find her son, safe and sound, as they crossed the field to the abandoned White property.
Tall weeds ensconced the crumbled stone foundation on the hill that once supported a house. A crow squawked from its perch atop the dilapidated fireplace.
Henry pointed. “The well is somewhere over there by that stone wall.”
“Georgie!” With renewed strength, Edna ran toward the wall. “Georgie!”
Landen ran after her, and the others followed. He grabbed Edna’s arm, until Tom took hold of her.
“Wait here,” Landen told her, reaching for the lantern Henry had lit.
Landen waded through the weeds, searching as he walked. He spied the ring of stones marking the well in the distance. Narrowing his eyes at the sight a few feet away, he quickened his pace. His breath caught in his throat. A hole gaped through the wide plank that served as the well’s cover. His heart lurched, and he sprinted to action. He tore off what remained of the splintered wood, heart pounding.
Dangling the lantern before him, he gazed down into the dark depths below. The anxious chatter of the crowd behind him fell deathly silent. Focusing his eyes, Landen searched for signs of movement as he followed the beam of light over pieces of splintered wood to the boulder on floor of the well. His shoulders slumped with disappointment. Swallowing hard, he turned to face the crowd. “He’s not down here.”
Edna sank to her knees, sobbing.
“Are you sure?” Gia asked.
Landen stood, wiping his sleeves. “He’s not here.”
The sound of Edna’s grief howled through the grim silence. Landen’s chest tightened at the thought the worst was yet to come. The woman had some dark days ahead, and he bit back a curse at the extra pain this wild goose chase had caused her.
He strode toward Gia, teeth clenched. “Satisfied?”
She shook her head, lips quivering. “He could still be trapped somewhere else. He—”
“Enough!” She was tenacious as hell, but he was her husband. He’d be damned before he let her forget this. He pointed his finger. “Do not speak one more word.”
She flinched, clamping her lips.
He took a deep breath, glancing to Edna. She cried into her hands at Tom’s feet, her endurance clearly at its end.
He turned away from the pitiful sight, furious. He must have been out of his mind to have listened to Gia and her improbable notion. She’d weakened his resolve when he’d needed it most, and he was as much to blame as she was for this ugly debacle. “Let’s head back to the lake,” he called to Henry and Tom as he started away.
The Lady Who Saw Too Much Page 10