And there it ended.
Saxon's breath caught in his throat. He felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. But understanding was far more important than air. His fingers clutched at the quilt while his eyes retraced the golden string's journey.
Life ain't really nothin' but a strang. You can yank on it, allus a-tryin' to find whar it leads. But you ain't never gwine know lessen you jist up and foller it. And I cain't tell you no more'n that on account o' yore gwine have to figger it outen all by yore lonesome. But Saxon, the day you quit a-tuggin' on it, that strang's gwine take you to whar you was allus meant to be.
"My life—this string," he mumbled to his sister, his eyes never leaving the quilt. "She told me this story... The string—it starts in Boston. But see where Keely ended its journey, Desdemona—in her Appalachia."
He stood and looked at his sister, but it was many moments before he could speak. "She gave me what she said was the only thing she could give me," he said quietly, understanding slowly coming to him. "Said she hoped it was going to come to me when I needed it the most."
He looked down at the quilt again, smiling so broadly that his grin took over his face. "She knew—Desdemona, she knows I love her! She knew it when she left, and she knows it now! I thought it was her pride that kept her from telling me she hated me! But it wasn't pride, Desdemona. It was love! She saw right through that act I put on for her. She left me this message—she wants me to follow her! Desdemona, don't you see? She knew I was lying to her! Somehow, probably those heart eyes of hers, she figured it all out after she left the bedroom that night! At this very moment, she's waiting—she knows I'm coming! With her, in the Appalachia! It's where I was always meant to be!"
He ran to his sister, picked her up, and whirled her in circles, his laughter bouncing off the walls.
"What a touching scene," Araminta's voice dripped from the doorway. "Simply touching."
Saxon looked at his grandmother and crossed to her, his expression, his stride, his very aura frightening her. She reached up, her scrawny hand shivering over her brooch.
Saxon stared at the pin and smiled. "Whatever power that thing had is lost, for I feel none of the fear it used to make me feel, Grandmother."
Araminta shrieked when he reached for the brooch and tore it from her gown. With horrified eyes, she watched him fling it at the window. It sailed right through the glass, flew into the courtyard, and finally landed in a small pond, where it floated for a second before if sank, leaving only ripples as evidence that it had ever existed.
"For years that thing scared me," Saxon admitted. "When I was a little boy, I was sure you'd stolen it from a Cyclops and the monster would come to this house for revenge. Even after I was a man, it made me nervous. Just as you did."
He stalked her. Araminta backed away until she met the wall behind her. "Get away from me! Thatcher!"
Saxon loomed above her, then bent his head closer to hers. His eyes were drawn to the area beneath her mouth. "Warts?" he asked, staring at the three growths on her chin. "They must be new. I've never seen them on you before. But how well they suit you, Grandmother. A witch is not a witch without warts!"
As his gaze stabbed into her, Araminta knew without a doubt that whatever mastery she'd hoped to retain over him had vanished. This was a new Saxon before her: one she'd seen slowly evolving as of late; one she'd done everything within her power to keep from surfacing. This was not Saxon, her grandson.
This was Grayson Blackwell's son.
She would stand up to him just as she had stood up to Grayson! "Unless you cease this disrespectful display immediately, I will be forced to destroy you, Saxon. I have shouldered as much as I am able, giving you chance after chance to redeem yourself and be the man deserving of the Blackwell fortune. But you insist on taunting me just as Grayson did. And not even marriage to Myrtle will save you this time. Unless you show the respect due me, I shall change my will for the final time and cast you out into the streets this very afternoon! Just as I did with your father, I will disinherit you, and this time there will be no hope for you!"
Saxon laughed. "No hope? My dear lady, where there is love, there is always hope. I was a fool not to believe that before now!"
"You... you—"
"Am a man in love. Not with money, not with society or my estimable station in life. I am in love with the mountain angel who saw a part of me that miraculously escaped your venom, and if I live to be a thousand years old, it won't be enough time to thank her for nurturing what little good there was about me. I love Keely, Grandmother. I leave this very afternoon to find her, and I'm taking Desdemona with me!"
Araminta reached for her brooch before she remembered it wasn't there. "Penniless! You'll go penniless!"
"Wallow in your gold. Grandmother! I want none of it! My pockets are empty, and I'll go from here with nothing but the clothes on my back, for doesn't everything I own really belong to you?"
"Most assuredly it does! Everything—"
"Except my heart. Except the one thing you never managed to get control of. But how you tried to make me love money. And I did, I suppose. But it never loved me back, Grandmother. I'm not leaving as the poverty-stricken man you believe me to be. I leave here with love, a treasure so boundless there is no way I can ever get my fill of it!"
Desperately, Araminta searched for another weapon. "Yes," she hissed when she remembered what that weapon was. "Desdemona... I still retain custody—"
"You'll never find her. With Keely's help, Desdemona and I will elude you and any detectives you send after us. And if you dare try to stop us before we leave, I will lock you in that trunk you used to lock me in!"
"Thatcher—"
"If Thatcher stands in my way, I will personally knock his sniffing beak right off his face! Nothing, no one, will keep Desdemona and me from leaving. Do your worst, Grandmother. But no matter what you do, you will never hold me within your power again!"
Araminta recoiled from the hatred she saw in his eyes.
"Desdemona," Saxon called to her, "when our father died, he bequeathed us everything he had. Until now, I believed he'd left us nothing. But his estate was the courage he had to follow his heart. His devotion to our mother allowed him to give up his fortune, and now I understand how much richer he was because of it. He had love, and there is no prize on earth more valuable."
Desdemona's eyes widened, her lips trembled, and for one brief moment Saxon thought his sister was trying to speak to him. But his hope shattered when she turned from him and fled the room.
Seeing Saxon's concern for his sister, Araminta began anew her litany about how Desdemona would suffer in the poverty she'd be forced to endure. He allowed her to rage on, and decided that instead of returning fire, he would laugh at her. The sound of her screeching and his laughter rang and echoed in his ears until a small, almost inaudible voice wafted through it.
"S-Saxon?"
He turned toward the unfamiliar voice, one he'd never heard in his life. And there, in the doorway, stood his sister. "Desdemona? Desdemonda?" He couldn't find any more words to say.
"Saxon?" she repeated. "I... this... I s-saved this." She drew up her arm, indicating a yellowed piece of paper pinched between her slender fingers.
Araminta gasped with horror as she recognized the document Desdemona held.
Chapter 25
She lunged toward her granddaughter. "Give me that!"
"S-Saxon!" Desdemona flew to her openmouthed brother.
Saxon had been struck dumb at the sound of Desdemona's voice, but her terrified plea for aid swiftly dispelled his shock. He flung her behind him, his body shielding her from Araminta's advance. "Touch her, and I'll show you the full meaning of the word wrath. Grandmother!"
His perilous gaze stopped her so quickly, she almost lost her balance. Saxon reached around and pulled Desdemona to face him. "You spoke," he whispered and hugged her fiercely. "Spoke. Dear God, Desdemona, you spoke!"
"She has what is mine, and I demand it be retu
rned to me!" Araminta again started toward Desdemona.
Totally perplexed, Saxon urged his sister behind him again. He'd never seen his grandmother so hysterical. He could barely believe this was the haughty, regal Araminta Blackwell.
And his astonishment at the sound of Desdemona's voice threatened to erupt in joyous shouting and laughter. But he realized he had to show some semblance of calmness, lest his sister become too agitated to continue. "I will not let Grandmother hurt you, Desdemona," he assured her softly. Only barely did he again succeed in tamping down the fierce need to shout out his elation over hearing her speak. "Now, what is it you've got there?"
From behind him, her hand shaking, Desdemona slid the yellowed paper through the crook of his elbow. As Saxon reached for it, so did Araminta, but Saxon grabbed it first and held it high over his head while he stared in bewilderment at the panic-stricken woman who was still grappling for it.
"Grandmother, step away!"
"The police! I'll have you arrested for keeping what is mine!" She attempted to jump up to Saxon's raised hand, but could not manage to hop more than a few inches off the floor.
"If indeed this paper is yours, I'll return it to you!"
"It is mine! I swear to you it's mine!"
"Then you've nothing to fear, do you?" With more gentleness than he really wished to use, he took hold of her bony shoulder, forcing her to keep still while he read the paper.
But as his eyes scanned it, his grip tightened, his fingers dug more deeply into her skin until finally she screamed at the pressure.
Ignoring her shriek, Saxon turned to Desdemona in disbelief. "Desdemona, our grandfather's name was Courtland Blackwell. This is his will. He took a ragged breath. "Where did you get it?"
Desdemona gulped convulsively. "She... Grandmother p-put it in her d-desk drawer."
"She lies!" Araminta yelled. "Though she has spoken today, she is feebleminded, Saxon! Surely you will not believe what she says!"
Saxon snatched off his neckcloth. "Another word out of you and I'll gag you!" He turned back to his sister, his eyes touching every part of her face as he recalled all the moments of pure wonder Chickadee had shown to her. "Desdemona, remember how many hours Keely spent trying to get you to say something to her? Think of her courage, little sister, and tell me what you know about this document."
Desdemona's eyes brightened at the memory of her loving sister-in-law. She nodded vigorously. "T-talk!"
"Yes." He was afraid to say more for fear she'd believe his seething temper was directed at her instead of Araminta.
"Was only s-six, but I c-could read easy words. I... A m-maid... t-tried to t-teach me to read when Gra-Grandmother wasn't look-looking. When I stole that p-paper, I read s-some of the words on it. I c-could read the word will."
"Go on," Saxon said as gently as he could in light of his impatience to know the story behind the document in his hand. "You've no need to be afraid, Desdemona. I won't let Grandmother hurt you."
"It was n-night, and I was th-th-thirsty. I c-ame downstairs, and just as I r-reached the foyer, I heard v-voices coming from Gra-Grandmother's sitting room. I... was scared, b-but I wanted to s-see who was in there w-with her." Desdemona swallowed and bit at her lip. "I went and p-peeked in the d-door crack. There were three m-men in there."
Her delicate fingers shivered inside Saxon's strong ones. "I... I heard everyth-thing they said, but I was t-too afraid to t-tell anyone. I thought the p-police would come and t-take Grandmother away if I t-told! And... and if she went t-to jail, you and I w-would have b-been... separated! We w-would have gone to d-different orphanages! Sh-she always t-told us she would s-send us t-to different orphanages! R-remember, Sax-Saxon?"
"Yes, yes, I remember that, Desdemona. Yes, I remember, sweetheart." He felt like he was smothering, but he couldn't take another breath. "But why did you think the police would have come for Grandmother?"
Araminta hissed. "Don't listen to her! She's a liar! She's making all this up because she hates me!"
"I doubt she needs to make anything up," Saxon speculated harshly. "If she hates you, her hatred undoubtedly stems from true things about you!"
"Gra-Grandmother had someone k-killed for that p-paper. I heard it all. There was a m-man. His name was Geoffrey B-Babcock. Grandmother p-paid the three men to k-kill him!"
"Lies!" Araminta cried, her face as white as her hair.
"Silence!" Saxon thundered as he looked at his grandfather's will again. Phillip Babcock, Attorney at Law was embossed at the top of the page. "Geoffrey Babcock," he muttered. Father and son? Brothers?
Desdemona saw his look of puzzlement and struggled to erase it. "The.... the men t-told Grandmother Geoffrey Babcock was d-dead and... and they gave her that p-paper. I saw her g-give them a lot of m-money before they left through the b-back door. Grandmother st-started to leave the room too, but a s-servant girl arrived and asked if... if there was anything wr-wrong. Grandmother was very st-startled, and she sh-shoved the p-paper into her desk d-drawer. Sh-she was anxious to g-get rid of the girl. She took the m-maid out into the hall and t-told her to br-bring some t-tea. When... when they were out of the r-room, I ran to the d-desk and st-stole that paper. I t-took it to my room and hid it inside the fr-frame of my small p-painting of M-Mother and Father. I only t-took it b-because I wanted to up-upset her... I hated her!"
Sobbing, Desdemona threw herself into Saxon's arms, her torrent of tears drenching his shirt. "I... f-forgot about it, S-Saxon! Please don't b-be mad at me! I never r-remembered it was there until... until today w-when you and Grandmother b-began to argue about the w-will! Will! I r-remembered reading that w-word on the p-paper! When I heard you and Grandmother arguing about it, that n-night so... so long ago... so long, Saxon... came rushing b-back to me! Saxon, I'm s-so sorry! It's all my... f-fault!"
Saxon realized there was no way she could have understood the enormity of Araminta's actions that long ago night. Though she'd recognized the word will on the paper, she'd had no idea how important a document it was. At six, she'd already slipped away from reality, and the only thing she'd truly understood that night was that it would grieve Araminta sorely to lose a paper she'd had someone killed to possess. Her grandmother's dismay had been all that had mattered to her. And what with Araminta's constant threat of the orphanages... As time had passed, Desdemona had withdrawn even further into her distant world, and until this day the will had been totally forgotten.
Her self-recrimination tore at him. "Desdemona, you are in no way responsible for any of this." His arms tightened around her as his mind struggled to make sense of the story she'd told him. "Grandmother, if what Desdemona says is the truth—and I believe it is—you are going to spend the rest of your life in jail. You—"
Her demented howl cut him short. "Courtland had no right to do what he did! He had left everything to me, Saxon! And then... then he changed his will and left everything to Grayson! How dare he do that to me—his loving wife!"
Wisely, Saxon remained quiet.
"I didn't know he had changed his will until the day after he died," Araminta raged, spittle frothing at the corners of her pinched mouth." His attorney, Phillip Babcock, came to me and showed me the new will. I... I was stunned! But Phillip had an idea. He said if I would reward him for his efforts, he would destroy the new will and give the old will to the courts—the one that left everything to me!"
Her eyes took on a crazed sheen. "I paid him great sums of money every month for his cooperation. I never dreamed he hadn't destroyed the new will. Oh, may his black soul roast in hell for what he did! I was only trying to correct the great wrong done to me! Phillip had no right to abuse my trust in him, the devil take him!"
Saxon frowned at what she began to do then. Her arms held out before her, as if embracing an invisible partner, she was swaying and bobbing her head in time to the silent muic she was hearing. "Courtland never took me dancing," she squeaked. "How I love music."
She'd gone insane, he realized suddenly. Gone for
ever was the indomitable Mrs. Blackwell, and in her place was a withered hag who had no more wits about her than a cat had feathers. Quickly, he placed Desdemona in a chair across the room and returned to where Araminta stood humming. "Grandmother," he murmured, "how did you find out Phillip Babcock never destroyed Grandfather's new will?"
Araminta stopped her musical fantasy and shrieked gleefully, her crazed laughter leaving no doubt in Saxon's mind she was truly mad. "His son," she spat. "Geoffrey Babcock. I was already here with you and Desdemona when Phillip died. His son, Geoffrey, was also an attorney and took over the practice. When he discovered copies of both Courtland's new will and his old one and then found a ledger containing the record of my monthly payments to Phillip, he traveled to Boston to correct his father's crime."
"And he came directly here and told you what he planned to do," he guessed.
"He had to die", Araminta announced imperiously. "There was no other way. You were too much like your father, Saxon. I could not let you leave me as he did! Only with money—and the fact that without it you would lose Desdemona—could I hold on to you. Grayson never cared a whit for wealth. Somehow, I had to make sure you would not be as foolish as he. So you see, Geoffrey Babcock had to die, my boy. There was no other way."
She started to hum a tune Saxon vaguely remembered his father once singing.
Grayson Blackwell. He had left everything he had to his two children. He'd died believing all he'd bequeathed them was the old, rickety furniture they'd used in their humble home.
But what he'd really left them was the magnificent Blackwell fortune. The tremendous wealth had never been Araminta's at all. It had always belonged to Saxon and Desdemona. The will Desdemona had kept hidden for so many years was the proof.
At that realization, Saxon felt a myriad of raw emotions explode through him. That his grandmother had ruled his life, played him in her hands as if he'd been a mindless puppet, twisting, demanding, blackmailing him into doing her bidding... And poor Desdemona! She'd lived in constant terror and had eventually withdrawn into a world so remote, it was a miracle she'd found her way back from it. It was too much to bear. It was unforgivable. Araminta had to be punished!
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