Nana examined an exhibit of stuffed animals indigenous to the area. “Not since the children were young. It’s changed so much in that time. This has a modern look to it, and yet you can feel the history contained in the four walls.”
“The building was donated by the ancestor of the man I want you to meet.” They walked across the marble floor, past bones and fragments of clay pots once used by the local people. George stopped at a door that warned visitors that this was a private part of the museum.
George tapped in a security code and pushed the door open. A long corridor opened in front of them. “After you.”
Nana slipped inside and turned to thank George. However, as she looked over his shoulder, another face came into view. Vito Jerrell was here, in the museum. The bastard had followed her. But before she had a chance to confront him, George stepped through the open door and closed it behind them, shutting Vito out of her life.
If only it was that easy.
Chapter Eight – George
As the door swung shut behind them, sealing them in the corridor together, a change came over Nana. Well, perhaps more of a reversion. The cool exterior she’d shown him last night returned. Gone was the warmth and humor of this morning. It was as if he’d imagined the brief time she’d been welcoming and warm.
“Everything all right?” George asked. Perhaps she didn’t like confined places. Not that the corridor was too confined, unless she experienced intense claustrophobia. “We can go back out if you want. However, Thorn is waiting for us in the basement and I have something special I’d like you to see.”
Nana glanced at the closed door before turning her attention on George. “I’d like to meet Thorn.” The tension in her voice was palpable, but she tried to cover it. “Thorn is the descendant of the person who donated the building?”
At least she’d been listening to him. Although, that did not make him feel much better. As they walked along the corridor, she appeared distracted and flustered, her face flushed pink, and her breathing heavy. He was not ready to believe he had the power to affect her this way.
“Yes, he is. The same man who donated this building used to own Chance Heights.” George pulled open the door leading down to the basement.
“He owned the house before Lee Chance?” Nana asked.
“He did.” George followed Nana down the stairs.
“Do you know any more about Lee Chance?” she asked. Preoccupied by talk of Lee Chance, Nana seemed less distracted and tense.
“Chance Heights was a hunting lodge belonging to the estate owned by Peregrine Manning.” George wasn’t sure where this conversation might lead. He couldn’t reveal the truth about Chin Shan, without risking exposing dragon shifters.
“How did Lee Chance fund the purchase? I could find no information on him before he came to live there.” Nana continued as they reached the bottom of the stairway. “I wanted to trace the family tree for the children. To give them a sense of belonging after their parents died. But I hit a brick wall.”
“You must be Nana.” Before George had time to answer Nana’s question, Thorn stepped out of the shadows and thrust out his hand. He gave George a quick glance as if to make him aware their conversation had been overheard.
“You must be Thorn.” Nana shook hands with Thorn, a smile playing across her lips. “I’ve seen your photo in the local newspaper, haven’t I? Something about adventure and treasure.”
Thorn’s eyes flickered to George, who kept his expression neutral. “I don’t know about treasure. But I do like adventure.”
“The diamond. The one you found in the mountains. I expect the town will be filled with treasure seekers once word spreads further.” Nana glanced from George to Thorn and back again. “What treasure did you think I meant?”
“The old relics I find. You know, goblets, stone tablets. That kind of thing,” Thorn quickly covered himself and then went on. “But the diamond is my greatest find, I didn’t know it was in the newspaper already.”
“Yes, hot off the press this morning. I only caught a glimpse of the headlines though.” Nana smiled and then gasped. “Is that why you brought me here, George?”
George nodded. “A private viewing.”
Thorn turned away and walked to the safe, where he input the code and then turned the key to open the safe. Reaching in, he withdrew the sword, the large diamond glittering in the artificial light. “This is the sword of Calder Harrahand.”
“I read about him, too, when I researched the family tree. He was the first Protector of Bear Creek.” Nana reached out and stroked the flat edge of the sword. “Can I touch the diamond?”
“Yes, as long as you don’t tell the curator. Mr. Duffield is very protective of his prized exhibit.” Thorn offered her the sword to hold and she held it with great care and reverence, and then nearly dropped it on the floor.
“I didn’t expect it to be so heavy.” Nana grasped the sword with both hands, her grip strong.
“We can only guess what the real sword weighed, but the swordsmith who made it ensured the blade was perfectly balanced.” George watched his mate. Her concerns were gone, she was consumed with the history of the diamond and the story of Calder and Elia.
“And the diamond is real?” Nana touched her finger to the large gem embedded in the pommel of the sword.
“The diamond, the story, we believe it’s all real.” Thorn reached out for the sword and she relinquished it with some relief.
“How do you know?” Nana asked.
Thorn placed the sword in the safe and took out the jeweled brooch. “We also found this. It belonged to Elia, she was Calder’s mate.”
“It’s beautiful.” Nana gazed at the ruby-encrusted brooch fashioned into the shape of a bear.
“This painting depicts Calder and Elia.” George removed the dust cover from the painting and stood back to let Nana look.
“Wow. The sword and the brooch. And this is authentic?” Nana leaned forward. “Calder is older than I imagined.”
“He was a silverback bear, just like George,” Thorn said, patting his friend on the back. “There is a lot to be said for experience over youth. The stories tell that Calder could take on men half his age and beat them to their knees without breaking a sweat.”
George laughed. “Never underestimate the older generation.” He guided Nana over to the waxwork models. “To give the sword a semblance of authenticity, we had these models created.”
“Is that you, Thorn?” Nana chuckled as she looked closely at the features of the model. “Incredible. And who is this?”
“This is Emilia, Thorn’s mate.”
“Although the real Emilia has blue eyes and blonde hair.” Thorn folded his arms and leaned back, admiring the models.
“Is she a bear shifter, too? Like Elia?” Nana asked.
“She is a shifter, yes,” Thorn replied, non-committedly, which earned him a sharp glance from Nana, but she made no comment.
“What do you think of the models and the painting?” George asked, steering the conversation away from Emilia.
“I think they’ll make a wonderful display that will capture the imagination of the people of Bear Creek and beyond. The families who have lived here for generations will feel more grounded. As if they are part of something bigger.” Nana stepped back from the models. “Was I the guinea pig?”
“I wouldn’t say guinea pig exactly. But we did want the opinion of someone who wasn't directly involved with the project.” George recovered the painting and walked Nana toward the stairs, while Thorn secured the vault. “Sometimes you can get too close to a project.”
“Yes. That’s true,” Nana said absently, casting a glance up the stairs.
“Do you want to grab a coffee? Or I could show you around the museum.” Did she want to escape him? Her offer of meeting him at the museum might mean she wasn't sure about him. But when they met on the front steps she appeared calm and friendly. What changed?
“Coffee would be lovely.” Her brow
creased. “Not that I don’t want to see the museum.”
“Still a little jet lagged?” George gave her an excuse and she took it.
“Yes. I thought I was over it.” Nana’s thankful smile lit up her face. “And thank you. For showing me the exhibits. I think people, especially of Bear Creek, will fall under the spell of Calder and Elia.”
“It’s a good story, history, action, and romance all wound around an impressive diamond. What’s not to like?” He grinned nervously. Was he describing himself?
His bear chuckled. Do not compare yourself to Calder Harrahand.
I wasn't going to, George assured him. But he longed to break through the barrier Nana kept between them. All he had to do was find a chink and it would all come crashing down.
“Is there a back way out of here?” Nana asked casually when they reached the top of the stairs and stood in the corridor once more.
George became instantly alert, as did his bear. The change in Nana occurred when they entered the private area. What had she seen in the main museum that disturbed her? They needed to find out.
“No.” He pointed to the way they’d come in. “That way leads back to the museum. The other direction leads to the curator’s office and a temperature-controlled storeroom.”
She nodded, took a deep breath and turned toward the door leading to the museum. Like a prisoner walking toward his executioner, she took one step and then another, her heels clacking resolutely on the tiled floor.
George followed, tense with anticipation. His bear might tease him over any comparisons between him and Calder, but they both knew they would protect their mate. With their own life if necessary.
George opened the door, but this time, instead of waiting for Nana to go first, he stepped out into the busy museum and immediately scanned the room.
Volunteering at the museum had given George something to occupy his time. He left teaching, well before retirement age to travel the world. He wasn’t too ashamed to admit the reason for this decision.
A mate.
After living in Bear Creek for much of his life, he decided that he should go and track her down. His parents had met while watching the sunset on the summit of Kilimanjaro, and George convinced himself that if he explored all the wonderful places in the world, his own mate would appear.
She never did.
He’d been looking for the part of him that was missing in all the wrong places. She’d been a stone’s throw from his life in Bear Creek all this time. If only he’d met Nana sooner, at a football game, or a recital, graduation. So many times, their paths must have crossed but not intersected.
“George?” Nana stood at his shoulder, her body close. He could feel the heat emanating from her, and her scent tickled his taste buds. No, he didn’t want to eat her, but he did want to kiss her. Every inch of her delicious body, which smelled like orange blossoms and coffee. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes.” A quick scan of the ground floor of the museum told him nothing. No one looked as if they didn’t belong. Young children with their parents, older members of the public, mainly retired, and a few couples made up the usual daytime visitors.
George stepped back, and Nana left the sanctuary of the corridor, already on alert. He was right, someone, or something, in this room bothered her. “Why don’t we head over to the diner for coffee? Unless you would rather stay here.” He watched her carefully.
After casting a look around the room, she turned her head to him and said, “The diner would be great.”
Then she took off in the direction of the exit as if the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels. George lengthened his stride and caught up with her, giving her a sidelong glance. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?” She was a bad liar. Fear or something similar settled on her features as if it were an old friend.
“Unless you are desperate for caffeine, why are we practically running out of the museum?”
Her step faltered. “I was hot.” She fanned herself as they reached the doorway and slipped outside. A cool breeze lifted her hair from her face. Her cheeks were flushed, but George didn’t believe it had anything to do with the heat of the museum since the building was often cooler than the air outside due to the marble floors and air conditioning they installed last year.
“Better?”
Nana scanned the immediate area, trying not to look obvious, then gave him a smile, and said, “Yes, much better.”
George wished she trusted him enough to open up and tell him what the hell was wrong. Did she have a stalker? Perhaps she’d met someone while on vacation and he’d followed her back to Bear Creek.
Or perhaps she has a secret boyfriend no one else knows about, his bear suggested. And she isn’t sure who to pick.
Not helpful, George told his other side. But there had to be a reason, and he intended to get to the truth. Just like any other mystery, there had to be clues, he simply had to find them, wherever they were hidden.
Chapter Nine – Nana
He wasn’t here. Vito wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Did she imagine him in the museum? Had she panicked for nothing?
Her heart raced as she crossed the street with George and entered the diner, where Betsy, as nosy as usual, descended on the couple with questioning looks. She got no answers as George and Nana placed their order.
“Two coffees coming up. And a slice of apple pie and ice cream for George and a maple syrup muffin for Nana.” She scribbled on her pad, while simultaneously assessing the body language between them.
“Thanks, Betsy.” George fixed her with a dismissive look and Betsy sighed and wandered back to the counter to fetch the coffees.
Nana, feeling more like her normal self, smiled and said, “She means well.”
“I don’t doubt it.” George took a deep breath. “But I don’t know if you want Betsy to know about us.”
Nana swung her head around to fix George with a confused expression. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“If Betsy knows, then the whole of Bear Creek knows.” George kept his voice low and one eye on Betsy who was heading back with the coffee. “That smells good.”
“Best coffee in town.” Betsy poured the coffee and then winked. “Best everything in town.”
“I’m not arguing with you, Betsy,” George replied.
“Thanks, Betsy,” Nana said before she switched her attention back to George. “Do you want to keep us a secret?”
“No.” George put his hand out as if to stop her train of thought right there. “I wondered if…”
“If what?” Nana’s tone sharpened, and her eyes narrowed. He’d seen her reaction at the museum, of course he had, the man wasn’t a fool. She cursed inwardly. Perhaps now was the time to come clean and tell him everything.
“You were acting a little strange at the museum and I wondered if you were worried we might be seen together and that might upset someone.” George’s words spilled out.
“Upset someone like who?” Nana asked.
George fiddled with the sugar shaker but didn’t add any to his coffee. “I wondered if you were already seeing someone.”
Nana let her lungs deflate in a puff of air. “No.” She shook her head, as if trying to reinforce her words. “Can I be honest, George?”
“Always.”
“I haven’t been in any kind of a relationship since I came to Chance Heights.” Wow, she sounded like a nun. “It’s not that I haven’t been…”
George reached for her hand, his touch reassuring. “I understand. I think maybe we are more similar than you think.”
“I doubt that,” she answered with a short laugh. “So…in answer to your question, there is no jealous boyfriend.” It was the truth, Vito had never been a boyfriend. He’d never even been a friend. He was a lowlife scumbag who pretended to give her affection when she needed it, only to throw it back in her face.
“Then what was it all about, in the museum? You looked as if you’d seen a ghost.” G
eorge’s gentle voice coaxed her toward revealing part of herself she’d rather keep hidden away. But with Vito on the scene, it was better for George to hear the truth from Nana. Vito’s account of events was sure to be a hundred times worse than reality.
He’d made it clear there would be repercussions if she didn’t do as he demanded. Would he destroy her? Or her family? Or the business she’d helped build at Chance Heights?
Perhaps she should have told George there was a maniacal boyfriend waiting in the shadows and they should keep their relationship under wraps. It would keep George safe.
“I did see someone. From my past.” She shook her head and gave a short laugh. “At least I thought I did. Now I’m not sure if I conjured him up like a child conjures up the boogeyman.”
“Is he the boogeyman?” George pushed her slowly but surely toward admitting the truth.
“To me. Yes.” She rubbed her eyes with her hand, not wanting to give in to the emotions welling up inside. If she cried here in the diner, Betsy would see, and the rumors would spread. “I need a moment.”
Nana left the table and went to the bathroom at the back of the diner. There was a door leading out onto an outdoor seating area and the temptation to shove the door open and burst out of here and run was almost too much.
She rested her hand on the door, willing herself to stay, to not run out on George. At last, she found the strength to stay, the strength to compose herself and go back out there and tell him all about her sordid past. Instead of running, she opened the bathroom door and went inside. The bathroom was like the rest of the diner, clean and functional. Nana went to the sink and splashed water on her face, before looking at herself in the mirror.
The face looking back at her was older and wiser, but still as naïve as the day she first ran into Vito. The day he offered her a place to stay and a shoulder to cry on. The day she stupidly believed a stranger could ever care about her.
Did she really believe George would accept her past? Right now, he looked at her as if she were as valuable as the diamond on the pommel of Calder Harrahand’s sword. But if she told him the truth, he would no longer see the light in her, he’d only see the dark.
Silverback History Bear Page 6