by Rebecca York
“Not if you make certain they don’t come bobbing up to the surface again.”
Bree held back a strangled exclamation. The woman had seemed so nice, but now she was showing her true personality. She must be some piece of work.
Bree heard the sound of water running, then footsteps rapidly leaving the kitchen.
Graves was going up to check on the entrance to the passageway!
Quickly she tiptoed back up the stairs, stepped into the hall and closed the panel. She was just starting toward Dinah’s room when Graves walked around the corner of the hall. She made a startled sound.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, giving her a long look.
“No, of course not,” she murmured, keeping her voice low and controlled.
“Just came up here to check something,” he said.
“Well, I’m on my way to the classroom. I just had to stop and, uh, make a quick trip to my room,” she answered, surprised that she could make her voice sound normal when she talked to him.
He stood in the hallway, waiting for her to leave, and she knew he was going to check the panel the minute she was out of sight. Thank the Lord she’d gotten out of the passage before he discovered her there.
Turning, she walked away, hurrying toward the schoolroom, where she found Dinah curled on the couch. She sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“I had another dream about Daddy. I haven’t seen him in a long time, but in the dream he came here and hugged me.”
Bree crossed to her and knelt beside the couch. “That’s good,” she said then asked, “What did he say in the dream?”
Dinah’s expression closed up. “He said he has to go away. But he said you’d take care of me.”
“I will,” she murmured, knowing she had to reassure the child.
Tears glistened in the little girl’s eyes. “I don’t want him to go away.”
“Neither do I,” Bree answered, fighting her own tears.
“He told me to stay in here until you come back for me. He told me there’s going to be a bad storm but I shouldn’t be afraid, because nothing is going to happen to me.” The child swallowed. “He says he needs to talk to you. He says to meet him out in the grove.”
“When?”
“Now, I think.”
For a moment Bree thought about taking the girl with her. But Troy had been very explicit in his instructions. She gave Dinah a quick hug, then slipped out of the room and headed for the back stairs, keeping an eye out for Graves or Mrs. Martindale.
Outside, she hurried through the gardens, then strode onto the headlands. Dark clouds were gathering in the sky and the wind from the ocean whipped back her hair as she hurried along the path, wondering where Graves had caught up with Nola and then Abner.
Angling toward the grove, she crossed the last open stretch and stepped among the trees.
Immediately she felt the familiar deep vibration and she saw the whirlwind pick up, gathering more and more leaves and other debris as it swirled between the tree trunks.
She held her breath, waiting, then sighed a mixture of relief and anxiety as Troy stepped out of the debris.
She ran to him, clung to him, reassured by the solid feel of his body even as she began to speak in a strangled voice. “I heard Mrs. Martindale and Graves talking about murder. They say he killed Nola and Abner this morning.
They say it was part of a plan Helen concocted to sell the estate. They say—” She stopped, struggling to get the words out. “They say they killed you!”
His hands soothed over her back. He bent his head so that his lips could brush her cheek. “It’s so wonderful to hold you,” he murmured. “It was wonderful to make love with you.”
She tipped her head back, her gaze fierce as she met his eyes. “Troy, stop it! Tell me the truth this time!”
She felt his deep sigh.
“I’m sorry. If I could go back and change things, I would.”
“Troy, what happened to you?”
He began to speak, gathering force as he went. “At first I didn’t really remember. Then I didn’t want to remember. But it’s all there now. All the nasty details. I had a fight with Helen about the property. She bought that damn Enteck stock after I told her to stay away from it. She didn’t need the money. But I know why she bought it. She wanted to have more than I did. Everything was always a contest with her. Sibling rivalry like you can’t imagine.”
She gripped his shoulders, needing to hang on to him as she waited to hear the rest of it.
“Then she lost everything and she came to me, wanting to sell this property, the only big estate left on the coast up here. I’d sunk the past seven years of my life into this place and I wasn’t going to just walk away from it. When I said no, I knew she was angry. I didn’t realize how far she’d go to get back at me.
“After that Edith Martindale came back looking for a job. I hired her to take care of Dinah, but I didn’t know that Helen had sent her here. Foster Graves was already working on the estate. Apparently, it wasn’t difficult to play on his sense of disenfranchisement. He felt like he took care of Ravencrest, but I got all the benefits. Well, I worked here, too! I worked damn hard to supply the money Grace needed to make this house into the show-place she wanted for a home.”
“But what happened to you?” Bree interrupted.
“That scene I showed you. I know now it wasn’t the Sterlings. It was Martindale and Graves. I started thinking they were up to something so I set a trap for them. At dinner I was talking to Dinah about Aunt Helen, about how she used to leave valuable papers in the bedroom where you slept because that was a room she liked to use when she was here. But I said I kept forgetting to look for them, so I wanted Dinah to remind me after lunch the next day. Then I went out sailing. Only I doubled back and took the passageway to the room.
“I found Graves there. I didn’t know Martindale was with him. She hit me over the head with a vase. While I lay there unconscious, I heard them talking. They had planned to kill me all along, but not so soon. Not until after Helen got back to the States. So I messed up their timeline. They couldn’t have me dead yet, so they pretended I was still alive.”
She only half heard what he was saying. Instead she gave him her own version of the story. “Yes, they hit you over the head and you had a concussion. You lost your memory. You were wandering around the estate— coming in through the tunnel and scaring Martindale and Graves.”
He sighed. “I don’t think that’s true. I think they killed me and took the evidence out here.”
He looked over his shoulder toward the grave, and as she followed his gaze, her whole body began to tremble. Her knees buckled, but he gathered her to him, lending her his strength.
She pressed her hands to his back, feeling his strong muscles and solid form under her hands.
Desperately she clasped him to her. “No! That can’t be right. Not now.” She rushed on, all logic fleeing her brain as she hurried to tell him what she was feeling. “Troy, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. When you were married, I knew it was wrong and I tried to tell myself it wasn’t true. But now there’s nothing bad about those feelings. Please, you can’t leave me now.”
“Bree,” he choked. “I love you, too. I fell in love with you that summer, and then I tried to put you out of my mind because I had a duty to Grace. But you were always there.”
“Oh, Troy.” She had longed to hear him say that. Tightening her hold, she cleaved to him with all her strength.
For a moment he held her just as tightly. Then he eased away so that his eyes could meet hers.
“I don’t just use the tunnels,” he said, his words clear but almost toneless. “I appear and disappear around the estate. I step out of that whirlwind of leaves. I call up storms.”
She dug her fingers into his forearms as she struggled to give them both another explanation. “When you were hit on the head, you developed special powers. Don’t tell me you’re not alive. Don’t tell me you’re not real. I
can feel your warm skin. Your solid body. Your mouth on mine.”
As she spoke she clasped the back of his head and brought his mouth down to hers for a fierce, desperate kiss, pouring all her hopes and fears into it, trying with every cell of her body to deny his devastating words.
He kissed her with the same desperation, yet when he pulled back, his eyes were sad.
He stroked his hand gently along the line of her jaw. “I think Helen sent you here because she wanted to punish you.”
“How could that be?” she objected.
“She saw us getting close that summer, and she resented it. She wanted you all to herself. She didn’t want to share you with me. I think she asked you to come here now because she knew I loved you. Maybe in some twisted way she was thinking we’d be together.”
“She…” Bree’s voice trailed off. She’d been going to defend Helen. But she realized she’d never really known the woman. Helen had paid for her mother’s operation, and she’d been so grateful. Now she could see the gesture differently. Maybe Helen had wanted to tie her to a sick woman so she wouldn’t have a life of her own. It was awful to think of her friend’s generosity that way, but once the idea took hold, it was difficult to shake it loose.
Troy was speaking again. “Helen didn’t know what would happen when I started touching you, holding you, kissing you. Loving you. All those things made me as real and solid as I’m ever going to be. I wanted that. I wanted to be with you. Wanted to make love with you. But now I think we have to say goodbye.”
“Troy, no. If you love me, you have to stay.” Even as she pleaded with him, she couldn’t deny the faulty logic of her words. Her love was strong. But he didn’t have to stay, not simply because she loved him.
He was speaking again, low and urgently. “Will you take care of Dinah for me? My will made Helen Dinah’s guardian. But I don’t want Helen to get her hands on Dinah, especially since as my daughter she’s my heir.”
“You don’t think Helen would harm Dinah.”
“Yeah, I do. But I’ve written a codicil, dated six weeks ago, and put it in the strongbox with my other papers. You’ll find it there. It names you as Dinah’s guardian.”
She stared at him, trying to take it in. But he rushed on.
“There’s enough evidence in Mrs. Martindale’s private papers for the police to arrest Helen before she sets foot on the grounds. After the storm you’ll find those papers in her dresser drawer.”
It sounded as though he was giving her final instructions, and the enormity of what he was saying made her numb.
“But most important, take care of Dinah for me.”
Tears blurred her vision. “I will. Of course I will. But you’ll be there, too.”
He held her for a few moments longer. “Bree, before you came to Ravencrest, I was only a shadow, hardly there at all. My memories were dim. I didn’t even know who I was. But you called to me. You brought me back to myself. Each kiss, each touch, made me more real, more solid. You couldn’t even see me at first. But you changed that. You changed me. That first time I made love to you, that was the only way I could do it. But then you wanted more—and that’s why I was able to give you more. You brought me back for a little while.”
“No!” she choked. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. He had always been here. Just as he was now. Except for his memory.
HE TOOK HER BY THE SHOULDERS, set her a little away from him. “Don’t make this harder for me. I need you to help me out.”
“Anything!”
“Even with what you call my powers, I can’t be two places at once. I need you to go into the pantry off the kitchen. The main switch for the electricity is there. Flip it off. Then go to the schoolroom. Hold Dinah for me. Make sure she’s not afraid. Do that for me, my love.”
“Yes.”
He pulled her back into his arms, clung with all the physical strength that had gathered within him since she’d arrived at Ravencrest. She was life, love, everything he had dreamed of over the long years of separation when he’d thrown himself into his work because he couldn’t stand his marriage. Then she’d come back to him, but only for a little time.
“Go,” he ordered, while he had the strength to send her away. “And make sure Martindale and Graves don’t see you.”
“Yes. All right.”
She was magnificent, he thought. Doing what he asked without hesitation.
Her coming here had made the difference for him. She’d pulled him out of his long lethargy, made him feel real and alive. And now she was making it possible for him to set the balance of things right.
He watched her run back toward the house. When she had disappeared from sight, he focused his attention elsewhere, calling up the wind and the storm clouds in preparation for his part of the drama that was going to be enacted here very soon.
BREE STUMBLED toward the house, tears choking her throat and blinding her vision. Desperately, she tried to outrun Troy’s words.
They weren’t true. They couldn’t be true.
Not now. Not when the two of them had finally found each other again.
But deep in the secret, hidden part of herself, she couldn’t deny his logic.
As she ran through the garden, the dark clouds grew more ominous in the sky.
It was going to storm, she thought with one part of her mind. Yes, a bad storm was brewing. Just as Troy had told Dinah.
As she reached the back door, she stopped and wiped her eyes, then pulled a tissue from her pocket. Troy had asked her to cut off the electricity. He had asked her to do it without Graves or Mrs. Martindale seeing her. Cautiously she approached the back door, then peeped in the window, looking for the housekeeper.
The kitchen was empty, so she opened the door and stepped inside, then took a moment to get her bearings. She’d never been in the pantry, but maybe it was on the other side of the room, behind the closed door.
She had almost reached the door when she heard footsteps behind her. Every muscle in her body froze. Then slowly, deliberately, she turned and found herself facing the housekeeper, who was looking at her with a dangerous expression on her wrinkled face.
“I went up to the schoolroom, but you weren’t there. Now what are you up to?” Mrs. Martindale asked, her voice sharper than Bree had ever heard it.
For a moment her mind went blank. She felt like a kid who’d been caught hooking school. Only this was a lot more serious. If the housekeeper knew she was up to something, Graves might be called on to take care of the problem, the way he’d taken care of two other problems this morning.
As she stood there, struggling not to let her fear show, words popped into her mouth. Widening her eyes, she said, “I, uh, didn’t get any breakfast, and I was hungry. I was coming down here to look for some of those hot cross buns you mentioned. Isn’t this the pantry?” She gestured toward the door. “I thought maybe I’d find them there.”
The housekeeper’s tense expression eased. “Yes, that’s the pantry. But the buns are in the bread box.” She crossed the kitchen, opened a metal box on the counter, and took out a plate with the buns.
“Could I have two?” Bree asked. “You made them sound so good.”
“Yes. Of course.” Mrs. Martindale put two buns on a plate.
“And, uh, would it be too much trouble to get a cup of coffee?”
“No.” The housekeeper filled a mug from the coffeepot on the counter. “Milk and sugar?”
“Just milk, thanks,” Bree said politely, as though she had nothing more on her mind than her missed breakfast.
She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, taking a bite of her bun, then a sip of coffee. Looking out the window, she watched the clouds darkening.
“It looks like a storm’s coming up,” she murmured as she sipped her coffee, keeping her head bent so that the anxiety she knew was on her face didn’t show.
“Yes.” She felt the housekeeper’s gaze drilling into her and wondered how long she was going to stand there watching.
/> When the buzzer on the stove rang, they both jumped.
“Something in the oven?” Bree asked, although she didn’t smell anything cooking.
“No. I need to put the wash in the dryer.”
“Can I do it for you?”
“I told you once before you don’t have to do my job.” Without further conversation, the housekeeper turned and marched out of the room. Bree could hear her clomping down the stairs.
She stayed at the table for several moments, her tension gathering like the clouds. If the woman came back into the kitchen to check on her, she’d better be eating her bun and drinking her coffee. On the other hand, this might be her last chance to get to the electrical cutoff.
Swiftly she rose and hurried toward the pantry. Then she checked herself and turned to the cabinet where the housekeeper had stored the flashlight.
It was still there, and she snatched it up, her hand clamping around the hard plastic shaft as she pulled open the pantry door. It took only moments to locate the circuit box. The main switch was next to it.
Three things happened as she cut the power.
The room was plunged into gloom, a boom of thunder sounded above the house and from the floor below she heard Mrs. Martindale cry out, “The lights! The lights are out.”
Bree was about to switch on the flashlight when the sound of heavy, running footsteps stopped her.
“Edith,” Graves shouted. “Edith, are you all right?”
He pounded across the kitchen and Bree ducked back behind a set of shelves, just as he flung the door open.
“Edith? Where are you?”
Praying the darkness hid her, Bree pressed her back against the wall.
“Foster? I’m in the cellar. Help me. It’s dark as pitch down here.”
Graves turned and bolted toward the basement. Bree waited until she heard him clattering down the stairs before slipping out of the pantry. There was just enough light coming in the windows for her to find her way across the kitchen.
Below her she heard Mrs. Martindale crash into something then curse in a most unladylike fashion.