by HR Mason
“No. Nothing at all,” Runa lied, continuing to stare at the mug.
“Do you want me to unpack the shipment in the back?” Emily offered.
“That would be great,” she replied distractedly. “Hey, Em, do you think you could handle things here for a bit? I need to step out.”
“Sure I can,” Emily answered. “Is everything okay?”
Worry creased the young girl’s forehead as she gazed suspiciously at her boss.
“Everything is fine. I just have an errand to run. I’ll be back in a bit. Call if you need anything.”
Glaring at the coffee mug one last time, Runa grabbed her purse and jacket and practically ran out the front door. Stepping outside, she breathed in the fresh air, trying to still her racing thoughts. Walking quickly down the sidewalk, she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t losing her mind.
“You just boiled a cup of coffee with your mind, Runa,” she whispered to herself. “You are way past crazy.”
She wanted nothing more than to talk to her mother, but all Asta would do was worry or try to read her aura, neither of which she wanted. Instead, she decided to do the next best thing. Turning the corner, she stepped into Talisman.
“Hey there, sweetie,” Tawney said with a smile as Runa approached the counter.
“Hi, Tawney,” Runa replied with a grimace.
Frowning, Tawney stepped around the counter and pulled Runa into a tight hug, seeming to know that was exactly what she needed.
“Now that’s from your mama, because it’s just what she’d do if she were here,” Tawney whispered into Runa’s ear.
“You’re right. She would,” Runa mumbled as she allowed herself to be held.
Pulling away, Tawney scrutinized Runa’s face for a moment. “You’re wearing the black tourmaline?”
Runa reached beneath her blouse and pulled out the crystal necklace. “I promised my mom I would.”
“Good. You need protection. I’m not sure why, but something tells me you do,” Tawney answered. “Come, sit with me. I’ve brewed some herbal tea.”
Obediently, Runa followed Tawney through the beaded curtain into the back room, where a large crystal sat in the center of a table. Tawney led Runa to two comfortable time-worn armchairs across the room. A small table between the chairs held two steaming mugs of herbal tea, ready and waiting. Tawney had expected her all along.
“So, what do you want to ask me?” Tawney began unceremoniously as she sank into the chair.
“How do you know I want to ask you something?” Runa hedged.
“Are you saying you didn’t come here to ask me questions?”
Shaking her head slowly, Runa admitted, “You’re right. I am looking for answers.”
“I know,” Tawney replied.
“All right, here goes. What do you know about the Everwines? I need to know everything.”
“I’ll reveal what I’m able to, but some of this story is not mine to tell.”
“You’re talking about the secrets my mother is keeping?”
“Your mother is my dearest friend, and I won’t betray her confidence.”
“I’ll take what I can get, I suppose,” Runa agreed.
Tawney closed her eyes for several moments, appearing to gather her thoughts before she began her tale.
“We all went to school together—your mother, Easton, Garrett, and me. Asta and I didn’t really run with their crowd except for a brief time in high school.”
“Who’s Garrett?” Runa questioned, her heart beating rapidly.
Tawney swallowed hard as she avoided Runa’s eyes. “Garrett Brewster. He was Easton’s best friend.”
“What else was he, Tawney? What aren’t you saying?” She knew he was the key to unlocking the secrets of her mother’s past.
Tawney sighed heavily. “Your mother and Garrett were in love.”
“He’s my father, isn’t he?” Runa knew the answer to the question even before she asked it. Somehow she’d always known.
“Your mother should be the one to tell you this, Runa. Why don’t you ask her?”
“I have asked her, Tawney. She can’t talk about it. The sadness is so heavy she can’t lift it. I need you to tell me.”
“Very well.” Tawney nodded. “Garrett Brewster is your father.”
“Tell me everything you know about him,” Runa pleaded.
“Garrett and Easton were best friends. When Garrett and your mother fell in love, it put a strain on his friendship with Easton.”
“Why did it affect their friendship?”
“Because Easton was also in love with your mother, Runa. But it was more than that, really. Easton was obsessed with Asta. He followed her around like a lost puppy.”
“He wasn’t with Camille back then?”
“Oh, Camille wanted him. Being with Easton was a status symbol for a girl like Camille. But Easton only had eyes for Asta. Camille was green with envy,” Tawney explained.
“That’s why she hates my mother. And me,” Runa deduced.
“That’s certainly part of it.”
“What happened then?”
“After we graduated, Easton and Garrett went into business together. Easton inherited his share of the lumber business, and he and Garrett decided to partner up on some new distribution idea they had. About that time, your mother found out she was pregnant,” Tawney explained.
“What did Garrett do?”
“He wanted to marry Asta, and she felt the same way about him.”
“Why didn’t they get married?”
“Garrett’s family was quite wealthy. His parents believed your mother wasn’t good enough for their son. They threatened to disinherit him if he married Asta.”
“And he listened to them?” Runa asked indignantly.
“Money causes people to do many things they wouldn’t do otherwise.” Tawney drummed her fingers on the arms of the chair.
“Is that why my mother left Departure Cove?”
“Easton found out that Asta was pregnant. Like I said, he was in love with her. He told Asta he would marry her and raise her child as his own. She refused, and Easton went crazy with rage.” Tawney shuddered as a vivid memory replayed in her mind.
“Did he hurt her?” Runa asked nervously.
“I wasn’t there, but whatever he said or did spooked Asta enough to make her run. Your mother packed up and left the next day. I didn’t see her again until you both showed up here.”
“So Easton married Camille. And what happened to my father?”
“Garrett was killed in an accident a few days after your mother left. No one really knew what happened. Easton found him on a jobsite. He was dead. I believe his death was eventually ruled a suicide, which might be plausible. Garrett was devastated when Asta left.”
“But you don’t believe it was a suicide, do you, Tawney?” Runa’s heart pounded as she waited for the answer.
Tawney shook her head, her eyes on Runa. “No I don’t. I’ve never believed Garrett killed himself.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I wasn’t there, so I can’t be certain,” Tawney hedged.
“But you must have a theory,” Runa encouraged.
“Here’s what I think. Easton Everwine is no one to trifle with. He was angry about your mother and jealous of his best friend. He was the one who found Garrett dead. I’ve always had my suspicions.”
“Do you think Easton is capable of something like murder?”
As Runa posed the question, she had a flashback of the insanity behind Easton’s eyes when he attacked her in the rose garden. She knew without a doubt it was entirely possible.
“I think the Everwines take what they want when they want it. They feel entitled.”
Runa’s stomach clenched, and she took a deep breath before asking the question she could barely bring herself to voice. “What about Chase? Do you think he’s like his father, Tawney? Because I don’t.”
“I don’t know. But I’m begging you to
be careful, Runa.”
Rising slowly, Runa nodded. She bent to hug Tawney before turning to leave.
She’d wanted to ask Tawney’s opinion on her strange experiences, like blue light shooting from her fingertips, or the fact that she’d boiled liquid with her mind. But at that moment, all she could think about was Easton pursuing her, his hungry eyes raking over her body, and the fact that Chase hadn’t believed a word of it.
Fingering the black tourmaline necklace, Runa waved goodbye to Tawney and headed back to the boutique.
Thirty
After closing up the shop and driving home to Everwine Manor, Runa paced back and forth across the floor of her bedroom. Confusion and desperation warred within. She felt caged, imprisoned in a cell of her own making. She loved Chase with all her heart, didn’t she? Wasn’t that what she felt for him? Of course, she didn’t have a lot of experience with healthy relationships. Was it possible that she’d mistaken infatuation for love? Things had moved quickly, but she had always felt sure of her love for Chase. She couldn’t bring herself to believe he was dangerous.
But was she wrong? Did she truly love him? Did he love her? Or was she simply blinded by her intense feelings for him?
Easton seemed capable of anything. She’d experienced that firsthand. She’d also been on the receiving end of Camille’s evilness. Even though they were Chase’s parents, that didn’t mean he was like them. Chase was good. He was a philanthropist, a solid citizen. He would never hurt her.
Deep down, she believed that. Chase wasn’t like his parents. She’d married him, not them. She hadn’t made a mistake.
When she’d finally managed to calm her nerves, Runa decided she needed a distraction. Chase wasn’t due home from work for a couple of hours, and Easton and Camille were still out of the country. Maisie had errands to run in town, and the rest of the staff was otherwise occupied. It was the perfect time to continue her exploration of Everwine Manor.
Closing the bedroom door behind her, she walked quickly down the hall, around the corner, down the next corridor, and into the west wing. She’d been planning her return since the day Maisie chased her away.
Opening the doorway to the sitting room, she ducked inside quickly, flipping on the light. She glanced around the room, her pulse quickening as she surveyed the opulence on full display.
The walls were lined with priceless oil paintings, several of landscapes and flowers as well as a few portraits. She scrutinized the portraits, looking into the lifelike paintings of people she didn’t know. She assumed they were members of the Everwine family.
Frowning, she gazed into the eyes of a man whose face so closely resembled Chase’s that it took her by surprise. Perhaps it was his grandfather. Although he was quite handsome, his countenance was cold. Runa traced her fingertip across the man’s chiseled features, noticing his face would have been perfect if not for a giant red gash on his cheek. She wondered what accident may have befallen him. Whatever it was must have been bad.
Moving across the room, Runa saw an ornate easel covered with a large cloth. Curious, she lifted the cloth, a gasp escaping her lips as the portrait beneath was revealed. Inching closer, she could hardly believe her eyes.
Beneath the cover was a perfectly rendered painting of the woman from her dreams, wearing the same wedding dress Runa had worn. The woman was blonde, her flaxen hair the exact same shade as Runa’s. Her identical blue eyes seemed to look directly into Runa’s soul.
Glancing at the bottom corner, Runa noticed the portrait was dated 1900. Pulling her sweater closer to her body to fight off a sudden chill, she grabbed her phone and snapped a photo of the portrait. She needed concrete proof of what was in front of her eyes, because it was impossible to wrap her brain around it. The woman was the spitting image of Runa.
She felt connected to the woman in a way she couldn’t explain.
As she stared at the portrait, something happened. Before her eyes, its subject came to life. The woman’s eyes began to blink, and tears coursed down her cheeks. Her full red lips began to move, and strange words filled the room. The phrase began as a whisper but grew in intensity. Soon the portrait woman was screaming, “Du er i fare,” the words echoing throughout the room.
Trembling, Runa collapsed into a nearby desk chair. Burying her face in her trembling hands, she told herself none of it was real. She took ten deep breaths, certain that when she opened her eyes, everything would be back to normal. But it wasn’t. When she looked at the portrait, the woman was still crying, the odd words continuing to fall from her mouth.
Not knowing what else to do, Runa faced her fear head-on. Speaking directly to the woman in the portrait, she managed to find her voice.
“What do the words mean? I’ve heard them before, but I don’t understand.”
“Du er i fare,” the portrait repeated.
“I don’t know what that means,” Runa protested.
Sudden movement on the desk before her caught her attention. Runa blinked twice as a feathered quill pen dipped itself into the inkwell and began to scrawl out a message on the paper in front of her. Aghast, Runa watched as the pen wrote the mysterious words over and over again across the page: “Du er i fare.”
As quickly as it began, everything stopped. The portrait grew still, and the quill pen clattered onto the desk.
Glancing back and forth between the painting and the pen, Runa waited. Nothing else happened. The room was eerily quiet, the portrait silent.
For a moment, she was sure she’d imagined it all. But the paper filled with scribblings of the strange phrase remained. She couldn’t deny the words were real.
Grabbing the paper, Runa folded it several times and shoved it into her pocket before she practically ran from the room, turning off the light and exiting as quickly as possible. The walls were closing in, making it impossible to breathe.
She was about to head back to the east wing when she heard a loud thump on the floor above. The sound came from the third-floor entryway. As she eased the creaking door open, her heart pounded. Someone or something was up there. She was as certain as she’d ever been.
Runa remained stock-still, listening intently for several moments, but she heard nothing. Shoving her trembling hand into her pocket to finger the paper, she ran back to her room.
She didn’t know what the words meant, but she was going to find out.
Thirty-One
Runa tossed and turned on her side of the bed, restlessly searching for a comfortable position to allow her tormented mind a moment’s peace. Chase’s warm body lay beside her, still and calm, breathing in the even pattern indicating deep sleep. She envied his ability to turn off his thoughts and sleep like a stone. For her, sleep had become elusive, always just beyond her grasp.
She hadn’t told Chase about her encounter with the weeping portrait or the phantom quill pen, but she had brought up the sounds she’d heard on the third floor. He’d brushed off her words, reminding her that Everwine Manor was a centuries-old mansion where it was perfectly normal to hear creaking doors and groaning floorboards. Runa insisted the sounds she heard were different, more than just the house settling. She hadn’t been prepared for her husband’s reaction.
Chase’s words still echoed in her mind: “You’ve been acting very strangely, Runa. I don’t think you’re adjusting well to your new life here. Perhaps you should talk to a professional about the issues you’re having.”
She hadn’t spoken another word to him the rest of the night, and they’d both fallen silently into bed. Runa was hurt that Chase had accused her of being unstable and needing to talk to a therapist. It wasn’t that she had anything against therapy; in fact, she’d been down that road before and found it beneficial. What bothered her was that her husband refused to take her seriously.
Runa flopped from her back to her side. Finally giving up on sleep, she rolled out of bed, padded softly to the window, and gazed outside at the swell of the ocean in the distance. The moonlight glittered on the water, causing
the surface to glow like a crystal. The ocean spoke to her, singing, beckoning like a siren’s call. Grabbing her jacket, she slipped it over her pajamas, slid her feet into her boots, and quietly headed outside.
She felt herself being pulled like a magnet toward the rose garden. She hadn’t been back since that terrible night with Easton, but since he was away, it felt safe to return.
As she rambled through the maze of flowers, she began to relax. Under the cover of darkness, while the ocean serenaded her in the background, she let her mind spin in circles, giving herself permission to entertain the disconcerting thoughts she tried to suppress in the light of day.
Runa considered the cryptic phrase, “Du er i fare.” Now that she knew the spelling, she was too afraid to google it. Somehow, she understood that the answer would change everything, and she wasn’t ready for that. She replayed the image of the weeping portrait and the quill pen. She thought of the footsteps she’d heard traversing the creaky steps leading to the third floor and Maisie’s admonitions about it being unsafe. She remembered the woman in the portrait, her doppelgänger, wearing the same wedding gown Runa had worn to marry Chase, the one found at Everwine Manor when her own had gone missing.
She revisited the story Tawney had told about her father, his mysterious death, and the fact that Easton had loved her mother. Had he loved her enough to kill his best friend in a fit of jealous rage?
It was all too much. She didn’t know what to do with any of it, and the load felt inordinately heavy for her to bear alone.
Wiping the tears that rolled freely down her cheeks, Runa reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a tissue.
After drying her face, she checked her cell phone. There was a notification of a missed call and voice mail from her mother. She must have missed it while she was talking to Chase.
She pressed Play and smiled as she heard Asta’s warm voice, wrapping around her like a bear hug.
“Sweetie, I’m worried about you. I don’t want to alarm you, but I’ve been having visions. I can’t shake the fact that my premonitions are telling me you’re in danger. Please call me tomorrow, Runa. I love you.”