Phantom Lover

by Rebecca York

  She thought about going back to her own bed but she knew she would never sleep in that room, not now.

  So she pulled up the covers and burrowed down into the warmth created by her own body. She actually slept for a few hours, then rose, determined to take some positive action.

  It was still dark when she returned to her room, changed her clothing and left again, heading for the part of the house where Dinah’s room and the schoolroom were located, in search of new sleeping quarters.

  “So, Troy,” she murmured in a low voice as she walked quietly down the hall, “what do you think about my changing bedrooms? If you don’t approve, all you have to do is say so.”

  She didn’t expect an answer, and she didn’t get one, even though she couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew perfectly well what she was doing.

  One door down from the sunporch, she found a small but charmingly decorated bedroom. It had only a small closet, which she considered a definite plus, and she checked it carefully to make sure there was no secret entrance. Then, before the rest of the household was awake, she packed up her clothing and toilet articles and moved them to the new location.

  She was just putting her underwear in the dresser in the new room when the door burst open.

  She almost jumped out of her skin, until she found herself facing a distressed-looking Mrs. Martindale.

  The housekeeper’s eyes widened when she saw Bree. “Why, it’s you again! What are you doing in here?”

  “I’m changing rooms.”

  “Why on earth? Wasn’t the old one satisfactory?”

  “It was fine. But it was too far away from Dinah. I want to be close to her. So I took the liberty of moving my things. I hope that’s not an inconvenience.”

  “Oh, no. That’s fine. I just couldn’t imagine who was in here.”

  “Were you expecting a ghost?” Bree couldn’t stop herself from asking.

  The housekeeper laughed. “Of course not. You just gave me a start, but I guess it cuts both ways. You looked like you thought an ax murderer had come in.”

  Bree joined in the laughter. “Yes, well, this house can be kind of spooky.”

  Mrs. Martindale nodded, then said, “The bed in this room isn’t made up. I can do that for you after breakfast.”

  “I don’t want to put you to any extra trouble. I’ll do it. Just show me where to find the linens.”

  “I’ll bring them now.” She left and returned a few minutes later with towels, sheets and pillowcases.

  Bree kept herself busy making the bed and arranging the towels in the bathroom. Something kept nagging at her. Some fact she should match with some other fact. But whatever it was wouldn’t come to her.

  It was only a little past dawn when she finished making the bed, but she was too restless to sit still.

  After pulling on a jacket, she went down the back stairs and out the door. She had told herself she just needed a breath of fresh air, but as soon as she stepped outside, she knew where she was going. Quickly she crossed the garden area, then stepped out onto the headlands. This early in the morning, mist rolled in off the ocean, making it difficult to see the edge of the cliff.

  She knew that made for dangerous walking, but if she kept her gaze a few feet ahead of her, she could see the path she’d taken the day before.

  Her hands were cold and she thrust them into her pockets, hearing the roar of the waves breaking against the cliffs as she walked away from the house.

  She saw the grove of trees ahead and veered toward the left, plowing through the low-growing vegetation. Even in full daylight, the shadows under the canopy of branches had been spooky. With mist wafting around the moss-covered trunks, it was even spookier. For a moment she hesitated then she stepped out of the open area and under the trees, her breath coming hard and fast, as though she’d just run a race.

  She stood quietly, waiting for her breathing to settle. When she decided she could hear something besides the air rushing in and out of her lungs, she listened.

  She thought she picked up the deep, throbbing sound that she’d heard the first time she’d come running in here. But now it seemed far away and she couldn’t be sure she wasn’t making it up.

  With her heart pounding, she waited for the whirlwind of pine needles. But the air was still and heavy.

  “Troy, I know you’re there,” she said. “I can feel you watching me.”

  Only the chirping of an unseen bird answered her.

  “What are you, a coward?” she asked. “You take me to your bed and make love to me—if you want to call that making love—and then you can’t deal with the rest of a relationship?”

  She had deliberately challenged him, but he chose to ignore the goading words.

  “So all you want is for me to get out of here and take Dinah,” she said. “What am I supposed to do, steal Graves’s keys?”

  There was a small flicker in the air, a small whirlwind of pine needles and dust rising from the ground about twenty-five feet from her. She held her breath, waiting for more. Waiting to see Troy’s image, the way she had before.

  “And where would you suggest I look?”

  An image came to her then, an image of a small building hidden in the shrubbery on the far side of the driveway from the house. She’d seen it from one of the windows, but she hadn’t known that it had anything to do with Graves. Well, actually, it might not. She might simply have dredged up an answer when she expected something from Troy.

  But she couldn’t dispel the notion that it was he who had put the image in her mind.

  “Thanks,” she said, her gaze trained on the swirl of forest matter, her hand reaching out as though she could grab the eddying dust.

  The wind puffed once more, sending pine needles into a spiral that flew several feet into the air then settled quickly as though it had never been there.

  She tried to ignore her disappointment. The grove was dark and still.

  “All right. I’ll play it your way,” she said. For now, she silently added. Turning, she started back toward the house, angling so that she would reach the spot where she imagined the shed was standing.

  She slowed her steps as she came near the building, seeing a light shining through the window. Feeling like a sneak thief, she was creeping closer to have a look in one of the windows when the door opened and the man himself came out.

  She waited for several minutes, torn between going inside and fearing that the handyman would reappear. But Graves didn’t come back, and she decided that perhaps he had gone to breakfast. Still she hesitated, thinking it would be unfortunate to get caught here. But her urgency was too great. “Watch my back,” she said to Troy as she stepped up to the door.

  It was unlocked. She hurried inside, then took a furtive look around. The room was neat; she’d say that much for the man. Hand tools were arranged on a Peg-Board wall or in drawers. Power tools were on shelves, two heavy-duty power cords were neatly coiled on hooks and the broad wooden worktable was uncluttered. Sitting in the middle of it was a purple boom box that looked entirely out of place.

  Drawn to it, she pressed the eject button and looked at the tape. “Rod Stewart’s Greatest Hits.”

  If Graves was working with Helen, he could have played it to be spooky. She shook her head, surprised at how far her thinking had changed. Of course, there was another equally plausible explanation. Graves had been scared by the music, then brought the tape down here to see what was on it.

  She pushed the cassette door closed again, turned down the volume and pressed the play button. The music was what she’d heard, all right.

  She listened to only a snatch, then turned it off, remembering that she had come here looking for car keys. They weren’t any place obvious, she decided as she inspected the various hooks on the Peg-Board wall, then began opening drawers.

  But Troy had as good as told her they were here. Unless she was making up the whole silent communication.

  She was just closing a drawer when she heard footsteps
hurrying along the path outside.

  Oh, God, Graves was coming back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bree had asked Troy to watch her back. Now she thought how useless that request had been. She was on her own and she had only seconds to decide what to do. Wildly she looked around, seeing that there was nowhere to hide in the small room except in the closet.

  She’d been caught snooping around too many times already. And the idea of standing here to confront whoever was outside gave her a sick feeling. Quickly she pulled the closet door open and found that it didn’t lead to a closet at all but to another entrance on the opposite side of the building.

  She had just made her escape when the door she’d first entered eased open.

  She didn’t know who had come in until she moved to one of the windows and peered cautiously over the sill. It wasn’t Graves. It was Abner Sterling, and he looked wild-eyed and frightened. Maybe Troy had tried to stop him from coming in, she thought as she watched Abner struggle to catch his breath.

  After a few moments he began a routine very similar to her own—opening drawers and poking around on shelves.

  With only a part of her face showing at the grimy glass, Bree stayed where she was, ready to duck if the man looked as though he was going to turn in her direction.

  He was searching for something and she was pretty sure he hadn’t found it. He straightened, standing with his hands on his hips in the middle of the room. His gaze flicked to the boom box and he strode toward it, pressing down on the play button without bothering to check the tape.

  When Rod Stewart blared out, he stared at the machine with narrowed eyes. So had he heard Rod Stewart up in Troy’s room, too?

  As she watched, he ejected the cassette, which he slipped into his pocket. Apparently he didn’t care whether or not Graves knew the cassette was missing.

  He spent several more minutes searching the workshop, being careful to put everything back where he’d found it.

  She had a bad moment when he looked toward the door where she’d exited, perhaps considering going out that way. But he turned and went back out the other door.

  Bree waited where she was, wondering what she was going to do. She hadn’t found any keys. But she wasn’t going back in there now. She’d made a lucky escape once and she didn’t want to risk meeting anyone else here.

  She sighed, thinking it was a long walk into town— too long for Dinah.

  Back at the house, she entered the dining room to find Nola looking impatiently toward the door.

  Dinah was at the table, hunched over her cereal bowl.

  “Where were you?” Nola snapped.

  “I went for a walk before breakfast.”

  “We didn’t know where you were,” Nola stated, clearly annoyed. “Mrs. Martindale says you changed bedrooms.”

  “Yes, I wanted to be closer to Dinah,” she said, smiling at the little girl who was watching the exchange from under lowered lashes. Then she turned her attention back to Nola. “Did you need me for something?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. Mr. Hirsch from the school board called. He wants to make sure that Dinah’s studies are conforming to the county curriculum. Are they?”

  “As far as I can ascertain,” Bree answered.

  “Well, he’ll be out here at two this afternoon to inspect the schoolroom, look at your lesson plans and interview you.”

  “Isn’t that rather short notice?”

  “That’s the point. You’re supposed to be prepared.”

  “Right,” Bree agreed, wondering if she really was in compliance. She hadn’t been here very long and all she had to go on was the material that the previous teacher had left.

  Lord, something else to worry about!

  “I’d better make sure everything’s ready,” she said, then turned to Dinah. “When you finish your breakfast, come up to the classroom.”

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” the child asked.

  “I’ll just grab something and take it up.”

  She fixed herself a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, then hurried upstairs.

  She should have looked at the local curriculum requirements, she thought as she began searching through the supply closet shelves, trying to locate thick, notebook-size manuals.

  “Why didn’t you warn me about this?” she muttered, speaking to Troy as she scrambled through stacks of materials. “You could at least show me where the stuff is.”

  The room remained silent and she stood for a moment, listening with her ears and her other senses. Since Troy had abandoned her in his bed last night, she couldn’t shake the notion that he was keeping tabs on her. And apparently she couldn’t stop addressing him as if he were in the room.

  “Don’t you want to get involved?” she challenged.

  She got an immediate answer, but not from the unseen man she was addressing.

  “Who are you talking to?” a small voice asked. It was Dinah who had chosen that moment to walk into the room.

  Bree felt her cheeks heat. After waiting a beat she turned. “Probably it sounds silly, but I’ve gotten into the habit of talking to your dad. Even when I’m not sure he’s really around.”

  “It doesn’t sound silly. Sometimes I do it,” the girl said. “It makes me feel better. But I only started after he came in the night and talked to me.”

  “Just now I was asking him where to find the curriculum, but he didn’t answer me. Do you happen to know where it is?” Bree asked.

  “On the bottom shelf. Right over there,” the child pointed. “I remember when Miss Carpenter put it away.”

  As Bree took a quick look at the material, she felt a surge of relief. Then she looked back at Dinah.

  “Thank you. This is just what I need. Now I’d better go over this stuff before I have to see Mr. Hirsch.”

  After setting Dinah up with some exercises from her reading workbook, she paged through the curriculum, comparing it to the work that had been assigned and to upcoming lessons. To her relief, it looked as if they were in compliance.

  She gathered up some of Dinah’s previous exercises and had just put them in a folder with upcoming lesson plans when Mrs. Martindale appeared in the doorway, looking flustered.

  “He’s here early.”

  Bree took in the housekeeper’s anxious visage. Obviously she was worried about passing inspection.

  “Is he pretty strict about following the rules?” she asked.

  Mrs. Martindale lowered her voice. “He had some complaints when I was supervising Dinah’s education.”

  “It’s not exactly your field,” Bree assured her.

  “But he wants to make sure everything’s back on the right track.”

  “Well, let’s go down and reassure him,” Bree answered with all the confidence she could muster, considering that she wasn’t sure how the interview was going to come off. For a moment she hesitated, then she turned to Dinah. “Do you want to come with us?”

  The child considered the question. “I guess I’d like to stay up here.”

  “That’s fine.” Bree looked at the sheets of paper on the desk. “Probably you should keep working on your lessons, in case he wants to see what you’re doing during school hours today.”

  Dinah nodded, then bent to her work again.

  Bree followed Mrs. Martindale to the sitting room, thinking that she might have been handed an opportunity to get out a message.

  But when she reached the meeting place, her hopes dimmed. She found Nola waiting with a small, gray-haired man who was sipping from a cup of tea. On the plate in front of him was a selection of cookies that the housekeeper had apparently assembled in his honor.

  He looked up, and she saw a round face and piercing blue eyes that stopped her in her tracks.

  “Mr. Hirsch, this is Miss Brennan, the new teacher who’s been engaged for Dinah.”

  Having decided that she should seem confident, even if her insides were quivering, Bree crossed the room and shook his hand. “I’ve brought y
ou some of Dinah’s recent work,” she said, “and lesson plans for the next few months.”

  After handing over the folder, she took a chair across the coffee table from Hirsch and sat with her hands folded in her lap, a strategy that kept her audience from seeing them tremble. She noticed that Nola didn’t offer her tea, although there was an extra cup on the tray.

  Hirsch picked up a cookie, chomping appreciatively as he began to page through the materials she’d given him.

  Bree held her breath, waiting for his verdict and wondering what she was going to do if he didn’t approve of the current situation.

  “Very good,” he finally said. “Yes, this is what I was looking for.”

  The pronouncement seemed to do wonders for Nola’s tension level. Even Mrs. Martindale, who had been hovering in the doorway, departed.

  “Of course, I’ll have to review this material in my office before I write you an official letter,” he said. “But I think I won’t need to make another home visit for several months.”

  “That’s good,” Nola answered.

  Feeling as if she’d gotten an outstanding grade on her college board exams, Bree let out a small sigh. “Do you want to see the schoolroom?” she asked, thinking that might be a way to get him alone.

  He shook his head. “I’ve seen it. I assume there haven’t been any major changes.”

  “No,” Nola answered.

  Mr. Hirsch sipped his tea and ate several more cookies before standing. “It was nice meeting you,” he said to Bree.

  “Yes. Thank you for stopping by. I should get back to Dinah,” she added, leaving the room, still hoping she could get a few moments alone with the man. She didn’t know him, but he seemed to be conscientious about his job, and perhaps he could help her and Dinah get away.

  Instead of heading upstairs, she went to the back door and slipped outside. It was still cool and she shivered in her thin shirt as she walked quickly around the house toward the front driveway, where she saw a small black car parked.

  Hirsch came out and she started to hurry toward him. Then movement at the side of the driveway caught her eye and she spotted Graves pruning bushes.