“I blame the girl, not you!” Eric said tightly. He wondered why Robin seemed to shrink further back into the corner she’d chosen for protection. But he didn’t have time to dwell upon it. “And she was your mother, too! Don’t talk about her as if she’s some kind of stranger.”
“She might as well be,” David snapped.
“Has anyone ever once told you that you were responsible for anything that happened?” Eric demanded. “Me? Any of us?”
“Actions speak louder than words. Or have you never heard that?”
“That’s not true!” Allison defended them all. “We’ve never said anything, done anything…because it’s not the way we feel. You’ve seen things that weren’t there, Davey.”
“Stop calling me that!” he shouted angrily. “My name is David…David!”
Allison shook her head in disbelief, still focusing on what her brother had said previously. “Just not there!” she stressed.
“I remember things, Allison. I remember the anger…the tears.”
“Well of course! I’d just lost my mother! I loved her!”
“Not then, later. I’m not talking about when I was an infant.”
“We’d just lost Dad, then!”
“Later than that.”
Allison’s tough exterior cracked. Tears started to stream down her face. “All right! So I wasn’t perfect! I had problems, too, Davey. Maybe I…maybe I took some of it out on you over the years. But I wasn’t blaming you.”
“Not just you,” he answered quietly, his gaze moving to Samantha.
“Me?” Samantha squeaked. “What did I ever—”
Eric stepped into the fray. “Leave your sisters out of this. It’s really between the two of us. If you have an argument with the way I raised you, David, blame me, not them.”
David’s smile held a poisonous edge. “Don’t you know? I’m an equal opportunity blamer. I blame everyone.”
“Everyone but yourself.”
That reply wiped the smile from the boy’s face. He stared at Eric, then started to circle him. “I’m tired of feeling like a liability. Mom died because of me. Dad—I don’t know how—but it had to have been because of me. We moved here because of me. Everything wrong that’s happened to this family is because of me.”
Eric pivoted, slowly following his brother’s path. “All along, I only did what I thought was best for you.”
“It wasn’t enough!”
Eric’s jaw tightened. “What do you want to do, Davey? Hit me? Will that make you feel better? Come on.” He beckoned with the tips of his fingers. “I can take it.”
“No!” Samantha cried. She had heard enough. She threw herself in between her two brothers. “David…Eric…don’t do this! Please! Please! Fighting isn’t going to solve anything.” She grabbed David’s raised fist.
David reacted instinctively. He brushed her away with more force than he meant. She recoiled, lost her balance and crumpled onto the floor with a pain-filled cry.
Everyone reacted with shocked silence. Robin broke ranks first and ran to Samantha’s side. The girl whimpered but was uninjured. She raised her tearful gaze to David, a mute question in her eyes. Robin gazed at him, as well.
The boy looked horrified by what he’d done. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean—” he stammered hoarsely. Tears clogged his throat, then flooded his eyes.
Eric stared at him. Without saying a word, he stepped over to Samantha, lifted her into his arms and carried her along the hall and up the stairs to the family’s quarters.
Allison wiped angrily at her cheeks, trying to erase all evidence of tears. “That was inexcusable,” she said tightly. “You say we hurt you, but there’s been many a time that you’ve hurt us. We worry about you, Davey, because we love you!”
Fresh tears formed in her eyes, and she spun out of the room before they could fall. Her feet thumped heavily on the narrow steps as she ran up the rear stairs.
Robin and David were left alone in the room. Robin got slowly to her feet.
The boy seemed stunned. A single tear escaped his eye, then another and another. “I didn’t mean to do it,” he whispered.
Robin crossed over to him. She wrapped him in an embrace. The entire scene had been a horrible nightmare. To witness the angry actions, to hear the painful exchanges…she’d felt as if she were being torn apart. If she could have gotten a word past her frozen lips, she would have cried out that it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Not anyone in this family. That if they needed someone to attack, they should attack her. She was the person who had started it all, even though she had had no inkling when she’d been a young girl playing on the beach. Like a pebble dropped into a still pond, the ripples had reverberated through all the years. How much longer would they continue to rip at the fabric of this family? How much longer would the Marshalls and she have to pay the dreadful price?
The boy’s thin shoulders shook in remorse and in misery. She held him tightly, as a mother might an injured child, offering what comfort she could.
When he had collected himself enough to pull away, he breathed a broken “Thanks,” and with face averted hurried out the French doors. Robin watched him as he darted past the window in the direction of the street.
She felt limp, unnerved to the point where her nerves could feel no more. So when the fluttering began in the corner of the kitchen, near the stove, she didn’t jump or start or think to run away. She merely watched it, an unexplained disturbance of the air. A servant girl? The guilty conscience of Micha Talbot? Or… Robin caught her breath as an idea occurred to her. Could the ghost be the spirit of Martin Marshall, come to keep a watchful eye on his family?
The tiny hairs on her arms and the back of her neck lifted, while the air continued to quiver and shift.
“Mr. Marshall?” she questioned softly, in a voice reminiscent of herself as a little girl.
The air continued to dance, then abruptly stopped.
Robin caught her bottom lip between her teeth and looked away. If it had been Martin Marshall, paying a watchful visit to his family, he must not have enjoyed what he’d seen.
Did he want her to do something to make amends? Is that why she was the only person outside of Bridget ever to see the phenomenon? But she had tried. She’d done everything she possibly could. There was nothing left for her to do except get away before she hurt them even more.
Besides, as Eric continued to maintain, there wasn’t any such thing as ghosts. She was being fanciful, escaping from a difficult reality into the realm of imagination.
Once again, she thought she saw a slight fluttering in the air beside the stove, but it was gone in a second. She drew an unsteady breath, turned her back and walked away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ROBIN TAPPED LIGHTLY on the door. She’d already looked in on Samantha and found her asleep. In the hour that had gone by since the argument, Allison had gathered the children and taken them for a car ride and had not yet returned. David was nowhere to be seen, and Eric had holed up in his room. It was outside his door that she waited.
The door opened partway. He stood very straight and tall on the other side.
“I’d like to speak with you, please,” she requested.
“What about?” he asked tautly. “Could it wait until morning?”
Robin shook her head. “No.”
His lips tightened, but he opened the door wider. “If we talk, we do it in here. I’ve had enough of family conferences.” He laughed shortly. “I suppose you have, too, and we’re not even your family.”
Robin moved inside the room. This was the first time she had been in a space that was solely his, that reflected his tastes, his interests. Comfortably masculine was the tone she supposed the room achieved. It was filled with a double bed, a massive oak wardrobe, a desk and chair, a computer, stacks of account books and papers, an old-fashioned reading lamp and a painting of Dunnigan Bay that must have been fashioned by Donal Caldwell. It had his signature touches of color and style.
&
nbsp; Eric watched her silently as she glanced from one object to another. She’d been hesitant to come here—she hadn’t wanted him to get the wrong idea. But from the stiff way he’d reacted, she needn’t have worried.
She turned to face him. “I’ve come to talk about David,” she announced without preamble.
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
She motioned to the desk chair. “May I sit down?”
“Of course.”
She perched on the edge of the chair seat. “You, too?” she asked, glancing at the dark striped comforter on his bed. When he declined, she drew a deep breath.
But before she could begin, he said, “Did he ask you to speak with me?”
“No, I’m here on my own. What happened was an accident, Eric. He didn’t mean for Samantha to fall. It just…happened.”
“I’m aware of that.”
Robin frowned. “You are?”
His smile was tight. “I think I know my brother a little better than you do.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Samantha knows it, too. She doesn’t blame him. She mostly feels sorry that it got to that point.”
“We all feel that way,” Robin replied.
“Why should it make a difference to you?” he asked starkly.
Robin blinked. “Because I was there! And because…I care.”
“About David?”
“Well, yes.”
“About Samantha?”
“Yes.”
“About me?”
Robin shot to her feet. “I didn’t come here to talk about us.”
“Maybe that’s what I want to talk about.”
She walked quickly to the door, but he was there ahead of her. He used his body to block her from reaching the doorknob.
She warned him, “If you let this night end without talking to David, he may not be here in the morning.”
“I’m aware of that, as well.”
“Then…are you going to talk to him?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, let me open the door. That’s all I have to say.”
“I’d like an answer to my earlier question.”
“Which earlier question? You’ve asked several.”
“What are you hiding from, Robin? Who are you hiding from?”
“I’m not hiding from anyone!”
“Then why are you being so secretive? Or are you secretive only with me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You talk freely to David, you talk freely to Benjamin. But with me, you barely say a word.”
She turned away, presenting her back. He pulled her against him, burrowing his face into her neck. “It’s driving me crazy, Robin. I see you with the others and—”
“I’m no different with the others than I am with you.”
“You’d better be!”
She shook her head, denying the misunderstanding. “Not that way. I didn’t mean—”
He moved against her, filling her senses. “I want you, Robin,” he breathed huskily. “I want you to be my wife. We can keep the inn, we can sell it. It doesn’t matter to me, just as long as we’re together.”
“No!” she cried brokenly.
He twirled her around to face him. “Why not?” he demanded. “If you say you don’t love me, I could deal with that. Say it, if that’s what it is. Say it.”
All she could do was look at him.
He closed his eyes and drew a ragged breath. “You’re not making this very easy, Robin.”
She came as close to the truth as she dared. “Sometimes things from the past…get in the way of what might be between two people.”
“Another man,” he said quickly. “I don’t care about another man. As long as you don’t still love him.”
She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. If this was goodbye… It was readily apparent now how badly she was hurting him and would continue to hurt him if she allowed things to continue as they were. He would be angry, he wouldn’t understand. But she had no other option.
The kiss continued for longer than Robin intended. She came alive to the hard, demanding pressure of his lips, the sweet fire of his touch, the feel of his taut body straining to meet hers.
The kiss finally broke, but not the embrace. He took a step toward the bed.
“No!” She resisted. “No, I can’t!”
The seriousness of her resolution penetrated his consciousness. “This isn’t some kind of game, you know,” he said, halting.
“I know.” She tried to keep her voice from trembling.
“I love you, Robin. I want to marry you.”
“I know that, too.”
“But?” His features hardened. “Do you have some kind of communicable disease? Is that it?”
“No!” she cried.
He dragged a hand through his hair.
Robin wanted to cry. She shouldn’t have let things get so far out of hand. She couldn’t blame him for being angry. If their positions were reversed, she’d be angry, too.
She put some space between them. “I—I think I should go,” she murmured shakily.
He slipped back into his sardonic mood, which was, if anything, darker than before. “Sure. Why not?” He shrugged. “Since you have nothing more to accomplish here.”
Robin didn’t want to leave him like that. But then, maybe it was best this way. When the time came in the next few days for her to leave Heron’s Inn for good, he wouldn’t be wondering about the cause. His conclusion would be incorrect, but at least he wouldn’t condemn himself.
Her gaze moved over him. This was one of the ways she would remember him best. Strong in body and in mind. Angry, yet not acting on that anger. Wanting her, yet holding back, because it was what she had told him she wanted.
She turned away and quietly let herself out the door.
AFTER THE DOOR CLOSED behind her, Eric wanted to yell in frustration. She loved him. He knew she loved him. Yet he couldn’t get her to say it. What would it take? What else could he do?
He smashed a fist on the desk, making the reading lamp jiggle. He had to find a way. How could they go on as they were, in such a tortured limbo? From this point onward, it was either full speed ahead or full stop. And he couldn’t imagine pulling back.
Seconds passed as he remained very still. Then he drew a deep, steadying breath and released it. Problems seldom came in single doses. If he’d learned nothing else raising his siblings, he’d learned that. The most immediate concern tonight was the need to deal with David. After doing that, he would, if necessary, spend the rest of the night reviewing his options with regard to Robin.
THE HALL WAS DESERTED when Eric stepped outside his door. No one moved about the house. In the half light thrown by the lamp still on in the family room, his shadow loomed large as he made his way to David’s bedroom. The boy wasn’t there. Eric looked inside when there was no answer to his knock, and all that greeted him were walls plastered with rock posters, a heap of discarded clothing, and CD cases spread all over the floor.
He was just pulling the door shut when David turned into the hall and saw him. A mixture of emotions passed over the boy’s face, mostly guilt and indignation. His thin body stiffened.
“Aren’t I allowed any privacy?” he demanded, stepping past Eric to belatedly block the doorway.
“We need to talk,” Eric said quietly.
“We’ve already talked.” David’s words were clipped.
“In private,” Eric insisted. “May I come in?”
“You’ve already been in.”
“Looked in. There’s a difference.”
“I don’t see what we have left to talk about,” David grumbled contentiously. “Please.”
The simple request, after everything that had come earlier, seemed to startle the boy. Without uttering another word, he opened the door.
Eric stepped inside. David kicked some clothes out of the way, removed a stack of books from a chair and offered him a seat.
>
David didn’t take a seat himself, preferring instead to remain mobile. “So?” he asked after an uneasy moment had passed. “What’s left to say?”
“Just that you’ve got a few things wrong about Mom’s death. The doctor said the aneurysm was probably there, hidden, for a number of years. It could have given way at any time during or after any one of her pregnancies. If they’d known, she would have been advised not to have children. Then none of us would be here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I never knew you were curious.”
“I’d call it more than curious!”
Eric didn’t rise to the challenge. “Still,” he said steadily, “I never knew.”
David’s frown was intense as he mulled over what his brother had just told him.
“As for Dad,” Eric continued, “how could you have been responsible? You were only two. A two-year-old child isn’t capable of causing anyone’s death.”
“You blame the girl.”
“She was older. She put herself at risk.”
“Do you think she wanted to die? Do you think Dad wanted to die?”
Eric stood up. “I didn’t come here to talk about what I think.”
“Well, maybe we should. Maybe we just should! You’re not always so right about everything, Eric, even though you seem to think you are!”
“I never claim to be right all the time.”
“Think about it. If one of us has an idea and you have a different one, whose idea do we follow? If one of us wants to do this or that and you don’t think we should, do we ever get to do it?”
“It makes a difference how old you are. You’re still a kid, David. I did the same thing with the others when they were your age.”
“I’m eighteen! I’m old enough to be out on my own. To be free of you and all the others.”
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