“I can’t stop loving him,” Samantha said slowly. “Or stop hoping that someday—”
“I’m sorry for you. Sorry for what you were born into. But the die was cast years before you drew your first breath. Your aunt don’t let go of what she wants, you hear? She’ll get her way come hell or high water. Oh, you and Jake, you might sidestep her somehow and think you’ve got her beat, but she’ll lie in wait for you. I’m not a crazy old woman. Hear me, child. Love Jake all you want, but don’t do anything about it. You’ll bring ruin to him and his whole family.”
Samantha looked away, her eyes shuttered with misery. Clara could see that the girl believed her but didn’t want to admit it. Clara looked at her with satisfaction and regret. “Your aunt’s evil,” Clara whispered. “Don’t you ever think otherwise. Don’t ever let your guard down.”
The girl’s tormented eyes shifted back to Clara’s. Slowly, her mouth set in a grim line, she nodded.
Chapter
Sixteen
Charlotte had been enrolled in Pandora High School for three weeks, and Sam was worried about her. Sam had gained weight—greasy sandwiches, french fries, and candy bars had suddenly developed an angry appeal, as if she wanted to prove that junk food would have kept Mom healthy. But Charlotte, who had always eaten like a starving piranha, and had the padding to show for it, barely ate at all. Her tearful spontaneity had become pale, dry-eyed lethargy, and at Highview she stayed in her bedroom at every opportunity, huddled under the covers with novels that she never seemed to finish reading.
Sam brooded about that, and about Mom, and Jake with obsessive simplicity, and moved through the hours at work in a daze.
“Did you hear me?” Patsy asked. “Hello in there. Anybody home?”
Sam turned from the shop’s window, a half-folded silk slip in her hands. Business was slow in the winter, Patsy said. Some afternoons hardly anyone came in. She stood at the window whenever it was like that, her gaze trained on passing cars and bundled-up pedestrians, and she realized she was always, always hoping that Jake would pass by. He didn’t.
She looked at Patsy dully. “I’m sorry. What?”
“The weather service says it isn’t going to snow,” Patsy repeated, frowning mildly at her, “but my grandfather says all the signs are right for a big snow. And he usually knows.”
“They have computers and satellites at the weather service,” Sam told her.
“But they don’t have grandfathers who talk to animals.”
Sam didn’t know what to say to that argument, and was distracted when Aunt Alex’s heavy silver sedan pulled into a parking spot by the shop’s brick sidewalk. Her secretary and Charlotte got out, Charlotte moving as if her quilted blue jacket and corduroy trousers were lined with lead.
“I picked her up from school a little early,” Barbara said as they entered the shop. “The nurse called.” Aunt Alex’s efficient secretary nodded in Charlotte’s direction. Charlotte leaned on the corner of a rack filled with robes and shrugged glumly at Sam. “She went to the infirmary after lunch,” Barbara added. “She has a terrible headache. Mrs. Lomax and the lieutenant-governor aren’t home from the capital yet, but I gave Mrs. Lomax a call. She gave permission for Charlotte to leave school early today.”
“It’s the snow weather,” Patsy interjected. “It gives people sinus trouble.”
Sam cupped her sister’s drawn, ashen face between her hands. “I’ve got some aspirin—”
“Mom never gave us aspirin. I want some herbal tea.” Sam looked away, biting her lip and feeling guilty.
“I’ve got to walk down to the jeweler’s and pick up something for Mrs. Lomax,” Barbara said, rolling her eyes. “If Charlotte wants herbal tea, she’ll have to pick it out herself.”
“Then we’ll go with you and stop at the health food store,” Sam said firmly, and glanced at Patsy. “Okay? It won’t take long.”
Patsy spread her hands. “I’m not exactly overrun with customers. Go ahead.”
Sam got her coat from the back, and they walked out. She tucked an arm through Charlotte’s and grasped her hand. It was cold and damp. They followed the perpetually fast-moving Barbara down a sidewalk lined with colorful awnings and leafless shrubs in ornate stoneware pots. The shrubs rattled in an icy wind. “Patsy’s grandfather says it’s going to snow,” Sam said, trying to get Charlotte to discuss something, anything.
But Barbara looked over her shoulder at her, snorted, and said, “He’s an Indian,” as if that summed up the value of the prediction.
“And you’re black,” Sam said evenly. “But I wouldn’t dismiss your beliefs just because of that.”
“I don’t need any lessons in racial tolerance, young lady.” Barbara looked embarrassed and muttered, “I’m the only black woman in these mountains who owns a BMW and a condo at the country club. Don’t you lecture me about open-mindedness.”
With that convoluted rationale firmly in place, she pushed open the door of a small shop with BECK’S FINE JEWELRY on the glass in gold script. They stepped inside, and Charlotte’s hand clenched Sam’s tightly. Sam stared at her anxiously. “Your aunt left some things to be cleaned,” Barbara said. “Wait here. I’ll pick them up and then we can go buy your tea.”
She marched to a counter and began talking to a short, balding man who greeted her warmly and scurried into a back room while an equally short and balding clerk made small talk about the high quality of Mrs. Lomax’s jewelry.
Sam, bewildered and alarmed, stared at the blue vein that had appeared in the chalky skin at the corner of Charlotte’s mouth. Charlotte’s hand trembled inside hers. “Let’s get some fresh air,” Sam told her, and Charlotte nodded weakly. But the jeweler returned with a felt bag that had an invoice pinned to it, and Charlotte froze. “It’s such a joy to clean and polish these fine pieces for Mrs. Lomax,” he told Barbara, spreading rings and bracelets on the counter under the soft, bright light of a jeweler’s lamp. “And this, of course”—he held up the thick gold chain and its pendant, letting the pendant swing gracefully and catch the light—“this is a masterpiece. So heavy, and yet delicate.”
Charlotte’s grip on Sam’s hand relaxed suddenly, her eyes fluttered, and she slumped. Sam caught her under the shoulders the instant before her head reached the floor.
“Go get Dr. Raincrow!” the jeweler yelled to his clerk.
“No, no, no,” Barbara retorted, dropping down beside them.
“But his office is just down the street.”
“I don’t care. He’s not what Mrs. Lomax would—”
“Get him,” Sam said, cradling Charlotte’s head and staring fiercely at everyone.
The clerk hurried out.
Jake’s father was the kind of doctor Sam thought existed only on television: calm, infinitely gentle, and handsome in a solemn, nonchalant sort of way. Stretched out on the jeweler’s floor with her head in Sam’s lap, Charlotte gazed up at him wistfully as he knelt beside her with his honey-colored fingertips pressed to the underside of her wrist. He studied his pocket watch, which had a scratched face and a tarnished winding stem. “Still ticking,” he announced in a low, kind tone, and smiled at Charlotte.
“Me, or the watch?” she asked. Her voice was a shaky croak.
“Both. But you’re ticking considerably faster than the watch. Take a deep breath. Now let it out. Good girl.” He looked at Sam with warm brown eyes under shaggy brows beginning to turn gray. Sam had not felt like crying until she gazed into his face. Jake had his cheekbones and full, generous mouth. This was a man who had no reason to be kind to Alexandra Lomax’s nieces, but there wasn’t any hint of dislike in his eyes.
“Are you sure she’s all right?” Sam asked gruffly.
“Considering what you two have gone through in the past six weeks, I’d say she fainted from stress and exhaustion.” He tucked a blood pressure cuff into the pocket of his overcoat.
Sam kept thinking of the necklace. There was something else going on here, but she wasn’t going to ask
Charlotte about it in front of Aunt Alex’s spy. Barbara was hunched over them, watching Dr. Raincrow unhappily. “Thank you,” she interjected coolly. “You may send a bill for your services to Mrs. Lomax.”
“There’s no charge.” For the first time, his voice was less than pleasant. But he looked at Charlotte, patted her shoulder, and his face softened. “Lie here a few more minutes and think about something that makes you feel good.”
Charlotte sighed. Tears filled her eyes. “A perfect soufflé,” she said.
He smiled. Sam choked up and looked away. Dr. Raincrow folded Charlotte’s coat and eased it under her head. “Sam, step outside and let’s have a talk. You look like you need some breathing room too.”
Barbara glared at him. “There’s no need for—”
“He’s a doctor,” Sam said grimly. “I’m going to talk to him.” She stroked Charlotte’s hair. “I’ll be right back. Keep breathing.”
“Soufflés,” Charlotte mumbled, and shut her eyes.
Sam rose with Dr. Raincrow. He held the shop’s door for her, and after they were outside he took her by one elbow and guided her to a wrought iron bench. Sam sat down beside him, her hands knotted in her lap. “She doesn’t eat enough, and I don’t think she sleeps very well either. She has nightmares. I hear her crying in her sleep, and I wake her up. But she won’t tell me what her dreams are about.” Sam shivered. “I know she’s dreaming about our mother, because I do.” Sam looked at him firmly. “She’s not pregnant, if that’s what you wanted to ask me. She’s shy around boys. Besides, we were raised to discuss sex openly. And she trusts me. I’d know if she’d done anything. She hasn’t.”
Dr. Raincrow cleared his throat and looked at her with fatherly appreciation. “My son is right. You’re very honest.”
Sam hunched her shoulders and stared at her hands. “No, I’m not. When I can’t say what I want, I just don’t say anything at all. That’s not a wonderful brand of honesty.”
“He’s down in Georgia.” Dr. Raincrow didn’t have to say who he was. They both knew. “The park service asked him to find some hikers who never showed up at their checkpoint on the Appalachian Trail.”
“There’s a bad snowstorm coming,” Sam said carefully. She knew she was walking a careful line. Discussing Jake might reveal how badly she wanted to see him.
“Hmmm. That’s what the old-timers are saying. That’s what he thinks too.”
“He must be a very respected tracker, from what I’ve heard.”
“He is. His sister has the same talent, but she applies it differently. Now, Ellie”—Dr. Raincrow waved a hand proudly—“she’d take Charlotte’s hands for a second, and she’d say, without anyone giving her Charlotte’s background, she’d say, ‘You’re not sleeping or eating enough.’ ”
“That’s kind of eerie.” Sam shifted. “That kind of intuition.”
“Well, I think it’s a matter of having a keen gift for observation. Logic.”
“Logic.” Sam nodded. “There aren’t many mysteries in the world.” Except for Charlotte’s reaction to that necklace.
“I agree.” He paused, and she thought he was going to get up and leave. “If I believed in meddling in situations I can’t completely analyze,” Dr. Raincrow said slowly, “if I did, I’d tell you that Jake hasn’t been fit company for other human beings since the day you and your sister came here to live, and that his mother and I have discussed every way we can think of to change this situation. You and Charlotte would have been welcome in our home.”
Sam looked at him with surprise and gratitude she couldn’t hide. “Tell him I don’t expect him to wait for me any longer. Tell him I don’t want him to be unhappy.” She struggled with the next words. “Give him this, please.” She pulled the thin necklace from inside her blouse, closed her hand around the rough stone one more time, then lifted it over her head and held it out. “Tell him I said good-bye.”
Dr. Raincrow frowned and studied the dull, purplish ruby in bewilderment. “He gave this to you?”
“When we were kids. Back when we thought there was nothing we couldn’t overcome.”
Barbara popped out of the jewelry shop. Sam quickly jammed the ruby into Dr. Raincrow’s coat pocket. “Sam, you can discuss Charlotte’s condition with Mrs. Lomax’s private physician,” Barbara said, staring nervously at them. “Let’s go.”
Sam stood immediately, all business. Dr. Raincrow rose too, and she glanced at his face, then away quickly, because he knew she had no choice, and she saw the anger and something that might be pity in his face. “Thank you,” she told him, and held out a hand. “For taking the time to see to Charlotte.”
He shook her hand gallantly. “Take care.”
Sam hurried back inside, her head up and her shoulders squared, one hand clenched wretchedly over the empty space where she’d always kept Jake’s promise.
Charlotte screamed. Sam was beside her within a few seconds, groping for the switch on a lamp by Charlotte’s bed, pulling her sister into her arms. Charlotte’s hair and nightshirt were soaked with sweat; sobbing, Charlotte wound her hands into Sam’s flannel gown and shivered violently. “It’s all right, it’s all right,” Sam told her, rocking her.
“Where am I?” Charlotte moaned, looking around wildly at the pastel prints and lacy trimmings of a room that like Sam’s was alien in its very luxury. “Your bed,” Sam crooned. “It’s safe. Shhh.” Sam glanced at a delicate little ceramic clock on the dresser. “It’s almost five. I’ll stay with you. Try to get some sleep.”
Charlotte shivered harder. “I can’t sleep. I don’t want to see Aunt Alex’s doctor this morning. I don’t need a doctor.”
Sam bowed her head against Charlotte’s. “You can’t go on this way. Aunt Alex says he’ll just prescribe something to help you relax.”
“I can’t relax. Not in this house. Not—” Charlotte inhaled sharply, wiped a hand across her damp face, then burrowed her head into the crook of Sam’s shoulder and was quiet.
Sam’s growing confusion and dread had reached a breaking point. She took Charlotte by the shoulders and held her away. One look at her sister’s fear-glazed eyes pushed her over the edge. Between gritted teeth she said, “You have to talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. You know I’ll help. You know I’ll understand.”
Charlotte moaned. “You can’t help this time, Sammie. I’m okay. I swear. I just have to get used to the way things are here. I won’t let you down, Sammie.”
“What the—”
“If we don’t like living here, we can’t just leave. At least I can’t. And no matter how much you’d want to take me with you, Aunt Alex wouldn’t let you. I know what she could do. I’ve heard people talk about cases like this on Donahue. If I ran away, she could have me arrested.”
“Charlotte, talk to me, please.” Charlotte clamped her mouth shut and shook her head. Sam leaned toward her, holding her tortured gaze with a determined one. “If we can’t depend on each other, then we’ve lost everything. Listen to me. The only way you can let me down is by keeping a secret.”
Charlotte’s resolve evaporated, and she covered her face. And then, in a halting, shame-soaked voice, she told Sam the truth.
Alexandra was half awake, feeling cold and restless in bed, alone. Orrin was at the house in Raleigh, preparing to host a group of foreign investors for the state business commission. She had planned to go with him, until Charlotte’s strange affliction intervened. Damn Hugh Raincrow for meddling. Word might spread that her niece had fainted mysteriously, and people would gossip. What if, allowed to run wild by Frannie’s idea of child-rearing, the girl had gotten herself pregnant? In a few hours Alexandra would haul her to Asheville and have her examined from head to toe, including a pregnancy test.
And if, God forbid, that was the case, it would be taken care of immediately. Alexandra rolled over and punched a pillow. She dimly heard movements in the hall outside her suite, and as she jerked upright, one of the doors flew open. Light from a hall sconce silhouetted Sam an
d Charlotte. Sam flicked a light switch. Her face was full of rage. She had Charlotte by one hand, and Charlotte appeared to be terrified.
“A couple of weeks ago, when he was visiting here, Tim mauled my sister,” Sam announced. “He cornered her in your dressing room and groped her, and told her not to tell. I want you to call him at school, right now, and tell him to come home. Because I want to hear him admit it before I cut his testicles off with a pair of pinking sheers.”
“You have to believe me,” Charlotte said again. Several hours had passed to that horrified refrain, backed up by Sam’s fury each time their aunt countered it with another skeptical question. Alexandra paced the living room floor, a creamy robe fluttering around her bare ankles, her face a mask of rigid doubt.
Charlotte was frozen in a chair at the center of the room as if this were an inquisition. Sam stood behind her, both hands on Charlotte’s shoulders. This was Sam’s worst nightmare come true—to be caught between Aunt Alex and her sister, defending Charlotte against their aunt’s unremitting insistence that Charlotte was exaggerating Tim’s actions or worse, lying about them. “I’m going to ask you one more time,” Aunt Alex said, halting and staring down hard into Charlotte’s eyes. “Did you make this story up simply to get attention?”
Charlotte moaned, “No,” and hugged herself. Sam stepped in front of her and said with barely contained sarcasm, “Is this what you think my mother expected when she left Charlotte in your care? That you’d call Charlotte a liar to save your own pride?”
“Loyalty works both ways. How do you expect me to respond to a lurid accusation about my son—yours and Charlotte’s cousin? Tim has a temper, I grant you that. It’s possible he said something that wounded Charlotte’s oversensitive feelings, but that’s no excuse for her to concoct an outrageous story in revenge.” Aunt Alex slammed one hand onto a table. “I will not have my son’s reputation smeared on the basis of allegations by a troubled girl who cannot prove a word she says is true.”
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