Endless Fear

by Adrianne Lee

  August blinked, clearly taken aback. “Then why didn’t you follow up on it, son?”

  Crimson charged up Karl’s neck. “Don’t call me ‘son’. My pa is dead,” he growled defensively as though being fatherless explained being derelict.

  Instead of August laughing it off as he expected, Spencer saw a flicker of guilt steal through the wizened navy blue eyes. Did August feel somehow responsible for the defective jack that had caused Lily’s sports car to crush Jesse Winston’s chest?

  But, of course. That would explain why August had financed Karl’s two failed attempts at college, why he’d give him this job, and why he tolerated his negligence. Lord, could he empathize with feeling responsible for another’s death, but until this moment, he hadn’t considered the trauma August must have endured; first with Jesse, then Lily, then April.

  How dare Karl play on it now in order to save his own butt! Without a thought to the man’s superior strength, Spencer grabbed Karl by the collar and pulled him close, intending to smash his perfect nose unless he apologized.

  “Don’t touch me!” Karl smacked Spencer’s hand away, and stepped out of his reach. For five whole seconds, he glared at both men, breathing hard, then wheeling around, he stormed to the workshop door. “All this family’s ever given mine is grief!” he hollered and slammed out.

  Caught in the wake of his own anger, Spencer mumbled, “Of all the ungrateful, insolent…”

  “I shouldn’t have called him a liar.” August’s expression wavered between flustered and embarrassed.

  Spencer couldn’t believe it. August was apologizing for Karl. “That guy’s always been a spoiled brat. And he’s gotten worse since Jesse died.”

  “Well, you can’t blame Helga for indulging him overmuch these past twelve years. Hell, I’ve been guilty of it, too. Perhaps, we’ve made him a bit lazy, but Karl’s young. He’ll grow up.”

  Spencer considered reminding August that Karl was twenty-eight and should have outgrown such immature conduct by now. But why waste his breath? “We inspected the ferry railings before we came up here to tell you about them. Actually, they’re in better condition than it first appeared. April had the unfortunate luck to crash against one of the few weak points.”

  “I thank God she wasn’t hurt.” August wiped his brow on the sleeve of his blue flannel shirt. “But I’m worried about the rest of Calendar House. Now that I think about it, Karl was right. I seem to remember Johansen giving me a list, but I was in the midst of redoing the speed launch. One project at a time keeps the mind clear.”

  August threw his hands in the air. “God only knows where I put the list, or how many dozens of things need repairing. What in the hell am I going to do?” His voice dwindled to a whisper, and the sudden slackness in his face said the undertaking was more than he thought he could execute.

  A tight band squeezed Spencer’s heart. Frowning, he contemplated the mortality of this man who’d been the only father figure he’d ever known. Granted, August exuded a fitness and health few men his age did, but he was nearly seventy, and just as susceptible to the strength-zapping effects of time and nature as the next person.

  Spencer had already had to juggle his schedule to be here for the engagement party; somehow, he’d find a few more days. He pressed his palms to the worn surface of August’s work table.

  “Look, I’ll help Karl compile a new list and take care of getting estimates on the jobs he can’t handle.”

  August’s’ expression brightened, but he shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, Spence. However, I won’t ask you to take more time away from your campaign.”

  “You didn’t ask. I offered. And I won’t take no for an answer. Besides, we could probably do most of it in a couple of days.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Now that’s settled.” He glanced at his watch. “We’d better get up to the house. Helga told me dinner was ready fifteen minutes ago.”

  By the time Spencer and August arrived at the house, large raindrops were falling. In the kitchen, they found the counter spread with a mini-smorgasbord of cold cuts, condiments, and salads. The attractively arranged platters showed signs of violation and, indeed, only four unused plates remained.

  Helga sat alone at the table, eating. Her greeting was polite, but strained. Spencer concluded Karl had run directly to his mother after the blow up in the workshop. Although she would never voice the irritation, it was as plain as August’s freckles that she resented his treatment of her son.

  Trying to keep his own voice level, Spencer asked, “Where is everyone?”

  The housekeeper glanced up from her position at the end of the table, chewed faster on her sandwich, then washed it down with a swallow of milk. “July’s already eaten. Your mother’s seeing to her bath. Thane and Vanessa took their plates upstairs.”

  “And April?” August queried. He seemed totally oblivious to the housekeeper’s mood as he reached for a plate and began layering it with ham and cheese slices.

  “Don’t know. Maybe in her room.” Helga took another sip of milk then filled her fork with potato salad. “I figured she’d come eat when she got hungry.”

  August nodded, but disquiet chattered in the recesses of Spencer’s brain. He could no more define the feeling than its source, except to say it had its root in the discovery that the electricity had been turned off on purpose. He tried to shove the worry aside. Probably, she was just taking a nap—she had looked beat earlier—and would not appreciate being disturbed.

  He reached for a plate, but suddenly realized he was no longer hungry. To hell with it. Let her get mad. He’d rather be chastised than sorry. “I’ll go check on her.”

  Three knocks on her door brought no response from April. The prospect of being caught snooping in her room again had Spencer grimacing as he turned the knob and silently slid the door inward. The room was empty, the bedspread smooth. He shut the door then trekked down the hall away from the back stairs.

  The bathroom door stood wide open. Bright light and the boisterous whirr of a hair dryer spilled into the hallway. He stopped in the doorframe, and wedged his shoulder into the jamb.

  Dressed in flannel Minnie Mouse pajamas, July stood with her neck bent forward as their mother kneaded her wet tresses with one hand and plied the drier with the other. Cynthia’s red skirt had damp patches as though his young sister had shaken her dripping hair across it. She smiled at him. “Hello darlin’. What’re you up to?”

  July peeked from beneath the damp tangle of fiery hair. “Hi Spencer!”

  “Hi twerp. Have either of you seen April?” He had to shout to be heard about the noise dryer.

  Cynthia cut the motor. “Not since July and she returned from Friday Harbor. Is it somethin’ important?” There was more than curiosity in his mother’s eyes. He sensed she suspected his true feeling for April, but he wasn’t sure she approved.

  “Not really.”

  “Well, if you happen upon my gold cross let me know. I seem to have misplaced the thing.”

  “Sure.” He threw July a kiss, and continued toward the front stairs. Thane’s door was ajar. The murmur of a low, intense-sounding discussion drifted to him. He hesitated; his arm raised to knock, then decided not to bother them. Maybe April was in the living room or her fathers den.

  * * * *

  Sprawled on the earthen floor with her cheek pressed to the dank ground, April drew a constricted breath and tried again to buck the weight off her back. Something sharp dug into her shoulder. She winced with the pain and abandoned the effort to free herself.

  God, how long had she been here, trapped beneath the heavy wine rack? Long enough for the stench of wine to gag her, long enough for her voice to grow hoarse from hollering from help. Another attempt produced only a dry croak.

  Surely someone would be wondering where she was by now. She closed her eyes and strained to hear possible footsteps coming down the stairs, or a voice calling her name. Instead, she heard the squeak of a rat. Terror shot throu
gh her. She twisted her neck, peering in the direction of the unwelcome noise. From amid the rubble of broken glass and shattered wood came the flash of four beady eyes.

  * * * *

  Within five minutes Spencer had searched the main level, and was standing in the otherwise unoccupied den. Frustration deepened his worry. Where was she?

  Wind rattled the French windows, startling him. He stared at the flickering lace curtains, contemplating the bizarre notion that some greater force might be trying to tell him she’d gone outside. What the hell? At this point he’d accept help from any source. He threw open the glass doors and was immediately sorry. Rain slashed against him in sheets, wetting his clothes, his face, his hair.

  He yanked the panels back together and wiped his face across his damp sweater sleeve. Even if she’d started for a walk before the rain began, she’d have been back by now.

  He returned to the kitchen. Karl and Helga sat at the table, talking over steaming mugs. There was no sign of August.

  “Karl, have you seen April this evening?”

  Having ignored his entrance into the room, Karl now slowly raised his head. Contempt glinted from his ice blue eyes. “Maybe I have and maybe I haven’t. What’s it to you?”

  Spencer’s boiling point lowered two degrees. Barely managing to keep a lid on, he flexed his fists at his sides. “She missed dinner, and I can’t find her anywhere in the house.”

  “You ain’t eaten yet neither,” Helga said in a voice slightly higher than normal. “I can’t keep this food sitting out much longer.”

  “Go ahead and put it away. I’ll help myself to something from the refrigerator later.” He eyed Karl pointedly, still waiting for an answer to his question about April.

  Karl ignored the look. He took a lazy pull on his mug and returned Spencer’s stare with scoffing indifference.

  Fed up with this game, Spencer headed for the stairs.

  Karl scraped back his chair and caught up with him. “You act like April’s your personal property. Is she?”

  Spencer could see Helga was listening to the exchange, otherwise he would have lied. “No.” The small word and its big meaning left his heart feeling bruised.

  “Good. Then she’s fair game.”

  Itching to smack the delighted look off Karl’s handsome face, but not wanting to deal with the aftermath, he wheeled around and charged up the steps two at a time.

  After assuring himself April wasn’t in her room, he started down the hall to Thane’s. The door was still ajar. He rapped and shoved it open without waiting for an invitation. Thane and Vanessa sat on the floor, using the bed as a backrest. Half full dinner plates balanced on their laps.

  At the intrusion, Thane’s head snapped up. The fork he’d been tugging through his salads stilled. A scowl creased his brow. “Do you mind? This is a private conversation.”

  “Sorry…. I’m looking for April.”

  “Well, as you can see, she’s not in here.” Thane motioned with his head for his twin to leave, indicating with overt eye movements that haste would be appreciated.

  “Have either of you seen her since she returned from Friday Harbor?”

  Vanessa shook her head, and it struck Spencer she wasn’t her usual exuberant self. In fact, she seemed almost somber. Thane, on the other hand, exhibited signs of being downright exasperated.

  With dawning realization, he knew exactly what he’d interrupted. Dear God, Thane must have been telling Vanessa about the past, about Lily and April.

  He apologized and turned to leave.

  Thane said, “I talked to April in the kitchen a couple of hours ago.”

  Spencer halted and rounded on his twin. At last, a starting point. “Did she say where she was going?”

  “As a matter of fact, she insisted on fetching the wine August and Mother wanted for the party.”

  Insisted on going to the wine cellar? Alone? The memory of April whimpering in the basement the night before flashed through Spencer’s brain and sped the chattering inside his head. What was the little fool trying to prove? Lord, let the conclusions he was jumping to be wrong. “You said that was two hours ago?”

  “Yeah, about that.”

  “And you haven’t seen her since?”

  “No, but I haven’t looked for her either. Maybe she went for a walk.”

  “I thought of that, but I can’t imagine she’d take on this storm.”

  Apparently unaware of the rain until this moment, Thane tossed a puzzled glance toward the window. He dropped his plate to the floor and scrambled to his feet. “Why are you assuming something’s happened to her? She didn’t go down there in the dark, and the electricity is still operating.”

  “I’m not assuming anything.” For some reason he couldn’t bring himself to confide in Thane about this. Even feeling that a rift was developing between them, perhaps one of his own making, didn’t compel him to open up. “I’ll just feel better when I know for certain she’s all right.”

  Thane followed him to the door. “Well, it’s easy enough to check. There were twelve wines on the list I gave her. If they’re all in the kitchen, then she probably went out for a walk and got stuck in the storm.” He clamped his twin on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go see.”

  “Thanks, but I can manage alone.” Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted his brother’s assistance, and the alien emotion stunned him. “Besides it appears I’ve interrupted an important discussion.”

  “You did, but I’ve told Van all there is to tell.” Thane glanced over his shoulder and studied his fiancée.

  “Really, Thane. You can lose the hang-dog expression.” Vanessa had gathered both dinner plates and was standing right behind them. “I won’t hold your past against you, if you don’t hold mine against me.”

  The two men pivoted toward her.

  She looked from one to the other. “My concern is for the damage the gossip mills could do to your career, to our future, if this story leaked. No, neither of you needs to worry that I’d ever tell anyone.”

  Thane beamed. “I love you, babe.”

  “Yeah? Well, I love you, too, big guy. Now be a gentleman and carry these plates for me.”

  * * * *

  “Shoo!” April’s voice cracked.

  The rats advanced, pausing only to take occasional laps of the cloying wine. They were so thin their rib cages protruded through their matted fur.

  Bile rose in her throat. “Scat!” She tried to squirm backward, but the jagged pain in her shoulder ended the attempt. Something wet and sticky trickled down her neck to her collar bone. Probably blood, she worried.

  Glass tinkled nearby. Her eyes widened in horror. “Leave me alone,” she begged.

  The two rodents halted, cowered on their haunches with their gnarled ears perked high as though awaiting further instructions, and for one insane moment, she thought the whispered plea had actually gotten through to them. Then she caught the sound. The rodents split apart, darting into separate recesses as several pairs of footsteps thudded her way.

  Thane and Vanessa collided as Spencer froze in the doorway.

  “Dear God!” Spencer cried, appalled at the sight before them. Two of the wine racks had toppled, the first cantilevered against the second. Broken bottles and chips of glass littered the floor. Wine was splattered everywhere. The acrid stench burned his nostrils. “April, where are you? Answer me!”

  “Here.” Her reply was feeble, but it sent a whirlwind of relief through him.

  Glass crunched beneath his feet and sticky, disgorged wine that had run together into rose-hued puddles sucked at his shoes. Despite this, he was beside her in seconds, squatting, asking, “Are you hurt?”

  Even from her awkward position, she could see the fear in his eyes. It took three tries before her voice rallied and sounded stronger than a squeak. “Something’s stabbing my shoulder, otherwise, I don’t know. I’m too numb too tell.”

  Alarm spread a layer of ice across his heart. Had she damaged her spine? Please God, do
n’t let that be the case. He eyed the trickle of blood oozing from somewhere on her shoulder. Fighting back panic, he told himself it could be worse. The blood could be pumping out. Anxiously, he grabbed the wine rack that held her pinned.

  “Careful, Spence,” Thane grasped his arm, staying his attempt to hoist the damned thing off her. “If you dislodge that rack the other will crash down on her, too. Vanessa’s gone to get August and Karl.”

  Stifling his impatience, Spencer surveyed the situation more fully. Thane was right. The two racks had locked tight and lifting one without supporting the other could cause April further harm. He hunkered down again and took her hand. “Hang in there, Sweetheart. It’ll just be a few more minutes.”

  She nodded and closed her eyes. In the comfort of his concern, it seemed like no time before she heard her father and Karl arrive, along with Cynthia, Vanessa, and Helga.

  Between shouts of dismay and exclamations of worry, the wine racks were righted. Spencer immediately knelt beside April. “Stay still another minute. There’s a sliver of glass stuck in your shoulder.”

  Actually the wedge of glass was the size of his thumb. He wrapped his handkerchief around the blunted end. “Mother, squeeze her hand. Real hard. This will only hurt for a minute, April.”

  Wincing, he jerked. The glass came smoothly out, spewing forth a fresh stream of blood.

  Cynthia took the hankie from Spencer and pressed it against the inch wide gash. “Can you sit up, sugah?”

  April tested her limbs and found them in perfect working order. Gingerly, she rose to a sitting position, feeling her circulation sting with the movement, and noticing for the first time that her face, her hands and her clothes were tacky with partially dried wine.

  Directly, she was aware of the pale faces and widened eyes watching her. Was one of them disappointed she hadn’t been crushed by the heavy wine rack? Suspiciously, she gazed from one to the other. “I’m fine. Look, I can stand. And walk.”