Shadow Dancer (The Shadow Series Book 1)

by Kline, Addison

  Exhausted, Catherine sunk into a dining room chair, allowing herself a moment of rest. She glared at the old man.

  “I really don’t see why you are here. It is Christmas Eve,” said Catherine coolly. The old man responded in a friendly voice.

  “Well I’ve come to check in on you and bring by this basket for the family to enjoy,” Lapidus said as he pointed to the hearty fruit basket that sat on the credenza next to Catherine’s perfectly polished silver punch bowl. Catherine rose to her swollen feet and rushed into the kitchen, brushing past the old man.

  “Dr. Lapidus, I appreciate the kind sentiment, but I am truly rather busy. Does your presence here have anything to do with a particular client of yours?”

  Dr. Lapidus looked embarrassed.

  “He did call me, and frankly, I am concerned.”

  Feeling heat rush to her face, Catherine diverted her attention to the dinner she was preparing. She rushed into the pantry and grabbed a purple apron that was secured by a nail in the wall. She struggled to tie it around her burgeoning waist, the seams on the apron begging for mercy. One by one, she removed the bowls and trays of piping hot food from the kitchen counter and carried them cautiously into the dining room. Fresh ham, roasted potatoes, string beans, fresh bread, steamed cauliflower, the selection was seemingly endless.

  As Catherine carried the feast into the dining room, the old doctor appealed to her once again.

  “Catherine, we really must talk.”

  Catherine shrugged him off. “Why, Walter? There is nothing to talk about. I have a restraining order. If he comes within fifty feet of me, my husband will shoot him. I’m not kidding.”

  Catherine briskly made her way to the far corner of the dining room. She selected a record from the bookcase and placed it on the record player with care. She placed the needle upon the record as a crooked smile escaped from her lips. Vivaldi graced the room with his melodic genius, as “Concerto in D Minor” played. Catherine closed her eyes for a moment as the music filled the room, making her briefly forget that there was a visitor in the room.

  * * *

  Jack stomped his boots against the porch floor, knocking snow loose from the soles. His calloused hand grabbed the brass knob on the old oak door and was met with resistance. Catherine had locked him out of the house again. Jack opened his tan coat and grabbed his keys from a lanyard that hung from his belt loop. He inserted a long handled key into the lock and twisted forcefully. Jack tried to turn the knob again, but the door simply wouldn’t budge. He shook the handle so hard that the wreath that adorned the door shook off the nail that secured it.

  “Damn deadbolt! I’ll remove it!” fumed Jack.

  In disgust, Jack slumped down on the porch step. He decided not to knock on the door just yet, because if he spoke to Catherine right now, he would be cross, an argument would ensue, and he couldn’t have that on Christmas Eve. He followed his mother’s number one rule: Never argue on Christmas. That is when he noticed Dr. Lapidus’ car parked on the lawn. Walter Lapidus was his father Angus’ oldest friend, but he also happened to be Bernard Kendricks’ psychiatrist as well.

  The doctor had made a special trip on Christmas Eve for the sole purpose to discuss Kendricks’ erratic behavior of late and to give the Morrow’s warning. As if Catherine wasn’t already enough on edge. He wondered how bad it would be this time. They had already gotten the restraining order after he showed up here last time. Thank God he had been home at the time, if she was alone, who knows what he would have done. He worried about her safety day and night.

  In the spring, Jack planned on putting a secure perimeter around the property so that no unwanted visitors could surprise them. He was simply ready for Catherine to return to some sense of normalcy. She could not continue on this path much longer; that he accepted with his whole heart.

  Jack peered out across the horizon. The sun was setting over Cavegat forest as the snow continued to fall to the ground, blanketing the valley with several inches already. The rumbling of tires transferring from gravel to dirt caught Jack’s attention. The rest of the family had arrived home safely. Angus’ black sports car struggled up the natural incline, going slowly in the still-falling snow. Roughly twenty yards behind the struggling car was a white pickup truck, waiting patiently for the car to climb over the hill. From the porch, Jack could faintly make out the faces of Frank and Bridgette in the cab of the truck clearly laughing as Angus held firmly to his pride as he forced his car up the hill. Moments later, the car had plowed through the snow, and thick layer of gravel underneath and made its way to the path in front of the Morrow house.

  Suddenly the heavy front door swung open slamming into Jack’s shoulder. Catherine had heard the children arrive and opened the door for them. Jack’s face contorted in pain, as his three eldest sons ran past, snow covering the shoulders of their jackets and the tops of their hats. They ripped off their winter gear and threw it on the floor for someone else to clean up. Jack called up to them as they raced up the stairs to the second floor.

  "Adam, Liam, Tommy, go straight upstairs, wash your faces and hands and come straight back down!!” Jack yelled up the steep stairway that led to the second floor.

  Quietly, Jack closed the door over again to keep the chill outside. He turned back around to face the doctor as the door slammed open again, this time hitting Jack square in the knee. Jack groaned and rubbed his now sore knee as two massive dogs burst into the foyer, a gray, scruffy Irish wolfhound and a massive black and tan Newfoundland. The two animals, covered in snow, playfully frolicked into the den where they jumped on the couch and rolled around to get the snow off them.

  "Get down! Scrounge! Grady! Down!" scolded Jack at his two oversized animals, as he groaned to himself, shaking his head at the mess that now lay on the couch and in the middle of his foyer, thanks to his children who discarded their coats, hats, and gloves right in the middle of the floor. As Jack returned to the foyer, Dr. Lapidus held the door open as gust of wind blew snow drifts onto his foyer rug. Crossing over the threshold of the house, Bridgette loudly stomped her boots on the rug, her clearly agitated husband Frank followed behind, his arms filled to the brim carrying their son and her many bags.

  "And that is why I do not want you driving up Cavegat Pass in a storm!" informed Frank, as he gave a knowing look at his young wife.

  "I would have been fine Francis!" assured Bridget.

  Frank continued to fuss at Bridgette as he carried the packages into the den. Jack smirked widely as he took in his little sister. Her hair's appearance similar to the nest of a magpie, her face dirty with grease smeared across her cheek, her clothes wet from the snow.

  "Car trouble, huh?" Jack asked his younger sister.

  Bridgette leaned in to kiss her favorite brother on the cheek and cheerfully replied, "The Gremlin croaked!"

  "You don't seem too bothered by that," remarked Jack, amused at his sister's nonchalant attitude.

  Bridget quipped, "I hated that piece of shit."

  Moira burst through the doorway, letting out squeals of joy to see her youngest son interrupting Bridgette's comment.

  “Jacob! I’ve missed you!”

  “Mother, it’s only been a week! I’ve missed you as well though.”

  Moira tugged on Jack’s shirt, stared at his worn boots, wiped dirt off of his blue jeans. Clearly she was taking inventory of what she would need to purchase at the mall. Jack hugged his excited mother as she fussed over the state of his clothing.

  “Honestly mother, I have nice clothes. This is what I am comfortable in,” explained Jack.

  From the doorway a deep rumbling noise could be heard. Angus had his arms loaded as well, and an alarming sound echoed from his throat.

  Was he growling?!

  Angus’ left hand gripped Moira’s luggage and his right arm carried the ever-pleasant Blake. The look on Angus’ face said it all. He needed a cigar, a sharp brandy and a nap. Angus glared at Jack as he spoke, each word staccato and over-pronounced, as if h
e was speaking to someone who didn't understand English very well, “Take the child.”

  Gently, Jack lifted Blake from Gus' arms as the child smiled sweetly at the sight of his father. Pulling his face close to his, he gave Jack a messy kiss, just happy to be home.

  “Hello to you too, Gus,” Jack remarked to his less than amiable father.

  Angus stormed past Jack pulling Moira’s luggage behind him. Angus didn’t even notice his long-time friend and colleague, Walter Lapidus standing in the doorway. The heavy luggage hit each step on the way up the stairs. Angus’ drenched penny loafers squished and stomped up the entire flight of stairs.

  * * *

  Excitedly, Catherine circled the large dining room table, greeting her family as they arrived at the table. Catherine traipsed to the left side of the table. Moira rose from her chair and hugged Catherine tightly, her strong grip leaving indentations on Catherine’s frail body. Moira backed away just slightly. She peered down over her glasses at Catherine with a calculating stare.

  "Are you taking care of yourself? You have dark circles under your eyes. Are you sleeping at all?" asked Moira, concern rampant in her query.

  "Not really. I am quite restless and uncomfortable," Catherine replied.

  “You seem very frail. You must eat.”

  Catherine acknowledged her mother-in-law’s demand with a nod.

  Catherine walked around the room greeting her family as they gathered around the dining room table. Catherine smothered each of her sons with kisses and hugs. Catherine had missed them terribly while they were visiting Philadelphia with Angus and Moira.

  From the foyer, an obnoxious metallic screech could be heard. Upon hearing the noise, Catherine rushed into the foyer to see what was happening, her swollen legs shuffling along the carpeted floor. When she found Jack at the front door with his power tools, she huffed in dismay.

  “What if someone breaks in? What if he shows up?!” she asked.

  Jack continued taking the deadbolts off the front door. He answered her with an astonished look on his face, “Let him! He’ll be dead the second he crosses my doorway. And who the hell is going to want to break in?! If they drive all the way up the mountain just to steal from us, I will personally load up their car with the Morrow ancestral china! Steal from us! We’re an hour away from the main road! Not to mention everybody is afraid of this place!”

  Catherine stormed out of the room with great irritation, as Jack followed behind her, deadbolt in hand. The truth of the matter was, though Kendricks had shown up here before, Jack didn’t believe that he would have the guts to cross his threshold. In time, Bernard Kendricks would prove him wrong.

  * * *

  Stubbornly, Jack and Angus insisted upon taking the head and foot of the table for themselves. On the left side of the table, in between Angus and Jack, sat Catherine, Blake, Bridgette, Shane, and Moira. On the right side of the table sat Frank, Adam, Liam, Thomas and Dr. Lapidus.

  With a mischievous look on his face, Jack began to speak to his father on the opposite end of the table.

  “So,” Jack begins, “I hear you had a pleasant trip up from Philly.” Angus, still chewing a mouthful of ham, shot his son a nasty glare, as Jack smiled broadly. Catherine, Bridgette and Moira all glared at Jack with eyes full of contempt. Moira's thoughts exploded. Why does he have to get him riled up already?!

  "Horrendous! Absolutely horrendous," Angus began, a look of sheer disgust on his face, "Your sister decided to stop in no less than seven, yes, seven stores on the way. Your mother insisted upon feeding your hooligan brood of boys breakfast and lunch. Your brother-in-law didn't have the pass salted for our trip up the godforsaken mountain. You didn't shovel a path to the front door so my penny loafers are now soaked! Do I have to do everything myself?! Oh! And I wasn't going to mention this but I may as well now: your children did nothing but argue and complain the entire way!"

  All at once several people at the table starting arguing back at Angus. Bridgette threw her napkin on the table and raised a finger indicating for him to hold on a minute. Moira rolled her eyes profusely behind her broad rimmed glasses, as she shook her head in disgust. Adam, Liam and Thomas squirmed anxiously in their chairs, hoping they could avoid their father's wrath. Catherine's eyes were opened wide, and she tapped her leg nervously under the table. Oh please don't let them argue throughout dinner. Frank and Jack snickered to themselves at Angus' appearance. Usually very well put together, Angus' graying hair stood on end, the bottoms of his pants were still wet, his penny loafers nowhere to be found.

  "I'm sorry… How do I respond to a full-blown outburst like that?" Jack wondered out loud.

  Frank inserted, "I think you should go in order."

  "Gentlemen! Can we not argue?" Catherine pleaded. Clearly ignoring Catherine, Jack began to address his father’s complaint.

  “Fantastic suggestion, Francis. In my sister’s defense... living up here in 'No Man’s Land,' there aren’t many stores, so Bridgette was being proactive and getting what she needed before coming back up here... What was his next problem?”

  “I don't have a problem!” claimed Angus, giving a volatile stare at his youngest son.

  “I think it was because Mrs. Morrow…” Frank started, but was interrupted by Moira, “It’s Moira, Francis.”

  “Right. Moira, wanted to feed 'your hooligan brood of boys' two of the necessary meals of the day.” That jogged Jack's memory.

  “Ah, yes! Tell me, Doctors Morrow and Lapidus, Nurse Kilpatrick, how many meals a day does one need to maintain a healthy diet? Ow! Catherine what was that for?!” said Jack, nursing his left leg. Catherine’s swollen foot rammed into Jack’s leg hard. She ignored his complaint, focusing on her dinner plate.

  "That's not the point!" argued Angus. "We’re having a big dinner, we do not need to waste time or money getting lunch. Walt, don't you entertain his foolish inquiry."

  "How many meals do you eat on a daily basis, Walt?" Jack asked to Dr. Lapidus.

  "That's not the point," insisted Angus.

  "I'd like a second opinion please, Dr. Lapidus, Nurse Kilpatrick. Someone speak some logic into this man," requested Jack, the smile on his face getting broader with each passing moment.

  Bridgette smiled widely at her brother, “Gladly! They are growing boys. They should eat when they are hungry, and eat at least three meals a day.” Jack was quite pleased with her answer, at this he turned to Walt again.

  “Why, thank you, Nurse Kilpatrick. Dr. Lapidus, do you concur?” Walt had a furrowed brow and gave his oldest friend Gus an apologetic look.

  “Jack, why must you drag me into this?” asked Dr. Lapidus with a sheepish look on his face.

  Angus, beginning to get truly agitated, inserted, “Walt doesn’t have time for this, Jack!”

  “I simply wanted to know how many meals a day Dr. Lapidus generally eats,” said Jack innocently. Jack's reply changed the expression on Dr. Lapidus' face, no longer a look of confusion, but to mild amusement.

  “Oh, I suppose I can answer that then…”

  Angus glared at good friend in disgust. “Walter!” Angus scolded Walt.

  Ignoring Angus, he answered Jack’s inquiry. “I actually eat five small meals; however, today I had a large breakfast and a small lunch, and now I am eating a hearty plateful of heavenly food. My compliments, Catherine!” Dr. Lapidus smiled warmly at Catherine as he raised his mug of hot coffee, clearly trying to change the subject. He failed miserably.

  Jack looked pleased with the turn of the conversation, “Very good. Moving on.” Catherine's face was now on fire, “Jack honestly... Can you drop it?! You’re giving me heartburn!”

  Again ignoring Catherine's plea, Jack continued, “What was next?"

  Bridgette perked up giving her husband a sly smirk, "Frank didn't plow the mountain." Frank gave his wife a grouchy look; a non-verbal reply as if to say, Gee, thanks.

  "I think I can handle this one," Frank offered. "My crew was on an over extended lunch break and-"
>
  "No, no, no... Don’t explain to him!" Jack interrupted. "He thinks being a Morrow is equal to being royalty! Being a Morrow is just the same as being a Smith, an Anderson, or even, heaven forbid, a Trafford!" Jack said feigning shock and horror as he spoke.

  Angus scrunched his face up as if he had smelled something utterly offensive. "The Traffords are on welfare, and I'm fairly certain that their eldest son does not bathe!” This got a chuckle from the crowd.

  Jack quickly replied, "You do not know that! And even if they are, why does that make you better than them?"

  Gus stood up straight, puffed out his chest, and held his head high as he replied, "Our family has upheld the integrity of our ancestor's land for over 150 years!"

  "Which means that other people probably have better plumbing than us!" Jack retorted, unable to hold back his laughter any longer. The rest of the family followed suit, that is, everyone but Angus who had a nonplussed look upon his face.

  "What's wrong with the plumbing?"

  "Other than the fact that I have to run the shower for thirty minutes before the hot water arrives, I'd say nothing. Best plumbing that 1904 could offer!" Jack quipped. Catherine rolled her eyes. Did people even have indoor plumbing in 1904? Angus sat there looking at his son, not understanding what his major complaint was.

  "Someone remind me, what was his next gripe?" Jack continued. The group sat thinking, then Bridgette got an excited look over her face, and her right hand rose in the air.

  "You didn't shovel a path to the door to spare his beloved penny loafers!"

  Angus looked thoroughly offended. "Hey! Your mother bought me those!"