III
She awoke that morning momentarily dismissing the previous night as a dream. But, water running in the shower and the fragrance of fresh soap and cologne confirmed that she was at Eric’s house, in his bed. She curled into a ball, hugging his sheets to her chest.
She was in his bed. The thought sparked a pleasurable sensation that cascaded up her arms and legs until it sank into her belly, where it quivered. Thinking about the night before—his hand sliding below her navel to hold her firmly against his aroused body, his breath hot on her skin, the tenderness of his kiss—flooded her with longing.
His masculine scent tantalized her nose as he entered the room. He knelt before her and leaned on the bed, brushing hair from her face as though he could see her despite the total lack of light.
“I have to go,” he whispered gently. “Molly’s here. She brought you breakfast and will take you home. She is at your disposal today. I’ll dismiss her when I come by this afternoon, okay? Sleep in as long as you’d like.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she mumbled.
After he left, she closed her eyes and sighed happily before throwing back the sheets. She located the light switch and pulled off the shirt he had given her to wear. Then she slipped into her gown, pausing to look down at herself and feeling silly dressing up for breakfast.
She left the master suite and stepped into the hall. With the lights on, the dark interior of Eric’s home surrounded her. The color of coffee covered the walls and near-black granite tiles governed the floor.
She made her way down the hall past several closed doors. The house was silent. There was no sign of Molly. When she reached the open kitchen and living area, she gazed around.
Muted rays beamed through a stained glass window over the sink, washing the ebony countertop and walnut cabinets in a bath of scarlet light. The minimalist kitchen lacked upper cabinets and shelving, and the stainless steel appliances were pristine and unused.
Across from the kitchen stood a large dining table made of walnut. The chunky legs flared as they reached the floor and matching benches with deep red cushions flanked the sides. Two pendant lamps, finished in brushed steel, hung suspended from the ceiling.
Squares of red canvas dotting the kitchen’s far wall matched larger abstract pieces hanging over the modern sectional sofa in the main area of the room. The large ivory piece dominated the space and wrapped around an appropriately sized ottoman. A matching shag rug softened the hard floor and a plasma television hung over a long, narrow table that stretched to end at a rustic wooden door.
Like the rest of the house, the room was empty. “Molly? Are you here?”
Several seconds passed before the rustic door opened and Molly emerged from what appeared to be an atrium brimming with plants.
“Good morning, Paresh! Sorry, I didn’t expect you up so soon or I wouldn’t have been hiding in there.” She smiled. “Mr. Ravenscroft sends his regrets for not being here. He had a meeting.” She removed her gardening gloves, wiped her hands on her khaki pants, and adjusted her glasses, which had slid down her nose.
“Good morning,” Paresh replied. “I know. He told me before he left. He’ll be back in the afternoon, right?”
“He should be. Are you hungry? I picked up some fresh fruit and a bagel for you.” Molly entered the kitchen and began preparing a plate.
“Thanks, that was thoughtful of you.” Paresh sat on a stool at the bar height counter and watched her, wondering how much she knew about him.
“I can take you home after breakfast. How are you feeling today?” Molly pulled a container of juice from the almost empty refrigerator.
“I feel good, actually. Much better than yesterday.”
“How was dinner? Mr. Ravenscroft disappeared into his study so fast this morning, I couldn’t ask.”
“It was delicious. I had a lovely time last night. Eric and I had a lengthy discussion when we came back here.” She watched Molly’s reaction as she slipped his name. The other woman paused briefly before grabbing a glass for the juice.
“I see. Did he tell you... everything, then?” Molly’s back was to Paresh. Her voice was cautious.
“Maybe not everything, but enough. There’s a lot to tell...” As Paresh’s voice faded, Molly turned and they eyed each other, trying to determine what the other knew. After a few seconds, they shared a nervous smile.
“So you know?” Molly raised her eyebrows.
“Yes,” Paresh replied with a firm nod, unsure of what to say next. Then she remembered his excuse for staying out of the kitchen. “His appliances are like new. I suppose they don’t get much use.”
Molly nodded and relaxed. “Well, he does entertain guests here. On those occasions, I stock the pantry and fridge, and he hires a chef to prepare the food. His clients understand that he dislikes an audience when he eats. They believe him to be very particular. He plays the gracious host and they enjoy a good meal, so they don’t mind.”
“He has such a good system in place, doesn’t he?” Paresh asked with an awestruck smile.
“He’s had many years to figure out the best way to address his needs, although with previous generations he wasn’t as prominent as he is now. He could easily hide behind a uniform or a hat and sunglasses because he was seen only as hired help.”
“He said the Colonel had to hide him for years following the Civil War so no one would see him. It’s got to be such a lonely existence.”
Molly shrugged. “I don’t think he sees it that way, and besides, things only really changed when he chose to risk exposure for your father. And even then, he spent as much time as possible working behind the scenes or watching over you and your mother at the cottage. He started wearing the glasses in 1991, I think. They do make him look a little older, but not old enough to have graduated from law school with your dad in 1982.”
She chuckled to herself. “For a few years there, he tried dyeing the hair above his ears light gray, but the color would only hold for about a month and he got tired of me fussing over him when it came time for a touch up.”
Paresh laughed, but Molly’s expression grew somber. “Of course, then you disappeared. Initially, he kept the firm going on his own, but it put him on display. He hired Kenshin as a public face for many of his cases, and no one who met with Eric then knows it today—Eric has a quite powerful hypnotic ability. He would have stopped practicing all together, but since he couldn’t help you, he helped the people here.”
Molly blew graying hairs out of her face before tucking them behind her ear. “I think it was about two years after you disappeared—that’s when he started limiting his public exposure and wore hats and dark glasses to keep his appearance as hidden as possible.”
“That’s so awful!” Paresh’s brow furrowed.
“Well, his reaction to your parents’ deaths and your disappearance, and his choice to build the restaurant... his actions set him up to be a prominent figure in a small community where most of the families are generational. They know he’s close to Walter and me, and see him when he slips in for services at the Sunset Grove Parish. He got away with hiding for a while, but he started coming out a bit more in the last year or so, and once the townsfolk found out he was actively practicing his own cases again... well, they’ve kept him busy.”
“But they have to wonder? I mean, he’s lived here his whole life. How can someone not recognize him?”
Molly smiled and placed the juice and plate of fresh berries, melon, and apple in front of Paresh. “I know they wonder. My grandfather had his own ‘wild’ theories about Eric, but the people who seek his help—which would be most of this town—get his help and that’s enough to make most of them forget any doubts. It’s not that they don’t see it, they just look the other way. He’s good to people, like your dad was, and that’s what they care about, so they’re good to him. The only ones he’s ever had trouble with are the Fausts, who own most of the farmland here that you don’t and contract to farm the land you do own. I’m not privy to
how he handles people like that, but the Fausts are a bunch of stuck up, no good—”
Molly sighed and pushed her glasses up. “Those people.” She shook her head. “All that really matters is that everything has fallen into place. I’ve been too scared to think of what would happen if he was exposed. I imagine he’d leave and have to hide somewhere.”
She tapped the counter and beamed a broad smile at Paresh. “But that hasn’t happened, so let’s not dwell on it. Would you like your bagel toasted?”
Paresh bit into a strawberry and shook her head. “So who all knows, then?”
Molly sliced the bagel, slathered it with blackberry jam, and placed it on Paresh’s plate. “Mostly just Walter, Sammy, Judge Bankman, Sarah Weaverly at The Greenery, Juliet O’Connor at the Orison Crossing Blood Bank, and Kenshin—of course, although he’s not entirely clear on the details. Sarah, Juliet, and Kenshin receive generous supplements to their incomes in exchange for their services, but money can only get him so far. Without trustworthy human connections, it wouldn’t work.”
“Are you worried about revealing too much to me, then? Maybe you know something he doesn’t want me to know.”
“Not at all. You’re the Hawthorne. You are privileged to know much more than I do.” She tidied up the kitchen and began to wash the few dirtied dishes.
To keep from blurting out anything he may have told her privately, Paresh took a bite of her bagel. She glanced around the room. “Miss Lydia’s house was kind of like this, although not as dark. But, I suppose he likes it that way.”
“It absorbs light and reduces glare. He can tolerate small amounts of illumination and sunlight, but he’s most comfortable in complete darkness.”
Paresh nodded and sipped her juice. Except for the brief moment when he had revealed himself to her, they had sat in the dark all night. In fact, not a sliver of light had escaped into the bedroom when he showered that morning.
Molly seemed to enjoy the chance to talk freely with someone who knew the secret she had harbored over the years, but Paresh worried about saying too much. She focused on the squares of canvas on the wall and tried to change the subject again. “I like how the red pops out.”
Molly lowered her gaze. “He surrounds himself with it. It’s... the color of blood. He never forgets that he is not like us, but he doesn’t regret the decision he made all those years ago. He has embraced what he is.” She glanced up with a curious expression on her face.
“Yet you... I’ve never seen him look at any woman with the eyes he has for you.” She paused and tilted her head back in reflection. “There was a time when I had hoped to see him look at me that way, but—oh, well—just suffice it to say that I fell in love with him long ago.”
Paresh stopped midbite and stared at Molly with wide eyes. “What happened?”
The older woman sighed. “He explained that he cared for me but couldn’t care that way. So, I decided that just being near him was enough to make me happy. Sure, it wasn’t easy at first, especially since no one else can really compare to him.” She smiled and patted Paresh’s arm. “None of that matters, though. I haven’t seen that spark in his eyes for a long time.”
“Do you still love him?” Paresh asked quietly.
“Yes, but it’s not like that. Heavens! I’m in my fifties! Could you imagine someone my age pining after a man who looks so young?” She laughed. “I’m happy just having him in my life. Perhaps that sounds sad. I don’t know—it’s what gives me peace. He talks a lot about having purpose in life and he is my purpose. I take care of him. And I love taking care of him.” She paused for a moment and gazed at Paresh.
After another pat to the girl’s arm, Molly finished, “I do love him, but it’s not the same as it was before. I’ve gotten older and have grown to think about him as family. I’ve watched him go through so much, and I’ve seen how much pain and loneliness he’s hidden since Andrew’s death. Now—now it’s beyond time he found someone to share his life with, someone to bring him joy. It’s a nice change to see him happy. You bring out the man in him.”
Remembering the warmth in her palm when Eric had held it against his body, Paresh smiled. “The heart of a man beats within his chest.”
Later that morning, Molly drove Paresh home. Upon unlocking the door, she barred entry with her arm and turned a stern gaze upon Paresh.
“You promise you’ll stay inside with the door locked?”
Nodding, Paresh laid a gentle hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “I promise I’ll be fine. You won’t be gone long.”
Molly hesitantly turned to leave. “I’ll pick up storage boxes and lunch, and will come right back.”
“I’ll be here, waiting to pack,” Paresh said with a smile.
With little to do until Molly returned, Paresh lingered under the hot spray of the shower until it ran cold. She shut off the water with a sigh.
Not yet brave enough to venture into the bedrooms, she’d left her suitcases on the sofa and living room floor. Towel drying her hair, she picked through her meager belongings and selected jeans, a black camisole, and a lightweight summer cardigan. Then she grabbed her brush and headed back toward the bathroom.
As she rounded the Victorian sofa, light sneaking through the door at the end of the hall caught her eye. It was the door to her parents’ room, left ajar from the day before. Freezing in slow motion, she caught her breath, expecting temptation to pull her in. Instead, she felt a sudden urge to explore a special place from her childhood.
After hurriedly dressing and pulling her hair into a sloppy ponytail, she taped an apologetic note for Molly to the door and stepped outside. She smiled up at the sun like it was a welcome banner. She was alone in the clearing—no birds, no rabbits, no deer—not even a cricket.
From the moment she stepped from Molly’s car, the forest had been as quiet as death, and now Sunset Grove beckoned her to uncover the mystery. She found the old trail south of the cottage and was surprised to find it beaten and worn.
“He remembered,” she whispered.
The canopy’s shadow was chilly, the forest silent, the sun powerless to warm her through dense treetops of ash, oak, and maple.
It was otherworldly. Much like her life, which now included a creature born from the nightmares of people thousands of years past, people who may have feared her fairytale prince as a monster.
Twisting her fingers around a wispy branch, she surmised that meant she was a princess, and that made her smile sheepishly. Remembering Eric’s arms pulling her to his chest, the beat of his heart, the warmth of his skin, the scent of his cologne, the gentleness of his kiss... she hugged herself and twirled in a circle. A delighted laugh skimmed her lips and she skipped, lost in Eric and in thought, toward Sunset Grove’s only other grassy meadow, the cottage clearing’s twin.
The canopy opened to blue sky about a mile down the southern path. Only grass grew here, with exception for the giant silver maple at the very center. The highest branches towered more than a hundred feet above a base too wide to even reach half of halfway around. As a child, she had played in its shadow often. Eric had named it “Grandfather Wisdom.”
She followed the trail into its shadow, astounded by the monstrous base that split into four trunks above her head. Each reached far into the sky with graceful limbs. Eric once told her that when he planted a budding silver maple here, he hadn’t expected it to survive, but it had thrived and grown into the beast of furrowed gray bark that ruled over Sunset Grove.
A familiar feeling of serenity fell over her. She closed her eyes in welcome and tilted her head back. A gentle breeze stirred and carried summer’s warmth into Grandfather Wisdom’s dense shadow.
She opened her eyes, watching the brilliant blue sky appear and disappear as the sea of green danced in the wind aloft and allowed the sun to dole out shiny kisses upon the leaves.
She was home.
Her child’s mind hadn’t thought about the passage of time. But now, she imagined Eric planting the grand tree
as a seedling more than a century ago and reached toward its bark, coarse and grooved with age, and thought about his smooth skin, unchanged despite years gone by.
As she brushed the ragged exterior, an eerie sensation gnawed at her fingertips. It bit into her skin and took hold, swiftly consuming her arm and racing up her neck, curving and twisting its way into her mind.
Night had fallen. She was running through the forest, fleeing a menacing figure in a crimson cloak. He closed the gap and clamped down on her wrist, his grip tight, painful. He jerked her toward him, revealing a silver and obsidian ring on his finger. She struggled to free herself and tried to rip back his hood, but he caught her arm and wrenched it down, securing it to hold both of her wrists with one hand. He produced a silver dagger from somewhere within his cloak’s folds. The sharpened edge gleamed as he raised it high above his head and brought it down, plunging it straight into her heart.
Her own scream, echoing throughout the empty forest, ripped her free of the nightmare. Gasping for air, she stumbled away from Grandfather Wisdom and fell to the ground, rubbing her wrist and clutching her chest. She lifted her eyes to the tree, not knowing what to expect. Perhaps a demon peering through the branches would make sense of the vision, but she saw only the same proud mammoth of furrowed bark and sun-kissed leaves that she had loved all her life.
IV
An ominous chill swept the forest. She pursued escape down the path, the cold nipping her heels all the way to the cottage. She slammed the door and threw herself against it. Gasping for breath, whole body shaking, she slid to the floor and buried her face in her hands. She desperately wished someone else, anyone else, were there.
The hall clock ticked the seconds and minutes it took to stop heaving. She folded in on herself, hugging her knees close, tears gushing.
The eerie stillness was an isolating companion. No one was there. No animals chattering. No birds singing. No crickets chirping. No cicadas droning. Just memory of a cloaked man with a blade in his hand.
The Arrival (Children of the Morning Star Book 1) Page 11