Raquel Byrnes

  My hand went to the bun at the nape of my neck. Where I was fair haired and light despite my tan, she was dark and exotic. She extended her hand.

  “I’m Nalla,” she said.

  “Rosetta,” I answered and shook her hand. Every finger had a ring on it, even her thumb. “I’m working up at Shadow Bay Hall. I’m the caregiver for Mr. Hale.”

  Compared to the relative anonymity of California culture, this felt like an invasion of privacy.

  “What ails you, Rosetta?” Nalla asked. “You look tired.”

  “I’m having trouble sleeping, actually. Do you have anything that might help me with that? Something stronger than chamomile?”

  “Yes, of course.” She came around the counter, and I heard a faint tinkling when she walked. A long skirt floated over her bare feet. A wreath of tiny bells encircled her ankle. “Follow me.”

  We made our way to the back of the shop past baskets on the floor filled with long-stemmed branches and loofahs. She stopped at a wooden counter set against the far wall. Glass jars with silver lids, pots corked with metal stoppers, and slender colored bottles sat on crocheted doilies. She reached up to a shelf on the wall and pulled down a small clear jar with a rubber gasket lid. She undid the metal fastener, breathed in slowly with her eyes closed, and then handed me the jar with a smile.

  “What is it?” I sniffed and smiled. “Goldenseal.”

  “You know your tea.” She raised a thin brow. “Are you a student of nature?”

  “A botanist,” I said. “So…sure.”

  She chuckled, a tinkling laugh that lightened the unsettled feeling that weighed down my stomach.

  “Goldenseal tea.” She reached under the counter, pulled out a small scoop and wiggled it in front of me. “I’ll put some in a sachet for you. Some of this at bedtime will help you sleep.”

  She pulled a brass scale over and set a small bowl on one end. Then she opened a wooden box, chose a small metal weight, and set it on the opposite side. I handed her the jar and watched her work.

  “Thank you for your help.”

  She nodded, scooped some tea onto the bowl, and squinted at the scale.

  “Why are you having trouble sleeping?” she asked. “Are you troubled?”

  I thought about lying but didn’t.

  “Yes,” I said. “I am troubled.”

  “Well, it’s no wonder, considering where you sleep.” She took the weight off, pulled the bowl off the scale, and tipped the tea leaves into an organza satchet.

  I blinked, surprised she knew so much about me. “Does Shadow Bay Hall creep out everybody in this town?” I looked at her over the scale. “Because you’re the third person to say something like that.”

  Nalla’s smile faded. She handed me the sachet and let her hand drop to the countertop. She bit her lip, glanced to the front of the shop, and then back at me.

  “Tragedy and death, Rosetta,” she murmured and her face fell with sorrow. “That is all that dwells there for long.”

  I looked at her, perplexed. “Are you talking about the accident a couple of years ago?”

  “Accident?” Nalla’s face contorted with sudden anger. “Minciună…lie!”

  Her voice sounded through the shop, and I stepped back, looking around. There was no one else in the shop to witness her outburst.

  “I’m sorry,” I said with surprise. “I don’t understand—”

  “Amanna didn’t die of an accident, Rosetta,” she hissed, her eyes slits of pain. “She was killed.”

  “OK, I’m sorry. I just heard it was an accident. All I know is that Simon’s wife—”

  “Don’t speak his name in this place,” Nalla said and banged her fist on the counter upsetting the bottles and jars. A few rolled off and burst on the floor, but Nalla didn’t notice. She heaved and glared at me. “Not here.”

  Fear surged through me, and I stepped backwards. How could someone go from friendly to furious so quickly? Why was everything and everyone on this island so strange?

  “I’m sorry,” I said, backing up further.

  “Take my words with you,” Nalla yelled after me. “Nothing but tragedy and death ever comes from that cursed place!”

  I turned and pushed through the door, my heart ramming into my throat. I hurried up the road, tripping on the cobblestones, nearly falling down.

  O’Shay wasn’t by the golf cart.

  Curious faces turned and I struggled to catch my breath. I kept walking past the golf cart to the road. Shaken, I struggled to quell the tears. I didn’t want to cry again. I was tired of crying.

  “Just ignore it,” I said to myself. “Ignore all of them.”

  Taking the way we’d come on the golf cart, I stuck to the shoulder. A mile back to Shadow Bay Hall the sun that struggled to poke through the morning haze had given way to clouds of angry slate. Frigid drops hit my face and I stopped short, worried about getting caught in the rain. I eyed a faint path that veered from the edge of the road into the woods.

  Wind laced with shards of rain tossed hair across my face, and I pulled the shawl tighter around my shoulders, debating. The canopy of trees would afford protection from the light drizzle, yet the thought of traipsing along the dark floor of the forest didn’t seem inviting.

  “Wander in the dark woods or get wet.” I blew out a breath, scowled at the sky, and stepped onto the path. “This is just a walk through the woods, Rose.”

  I picked my way along the pine needles and fallen twigs littering the path, careful to protect my practically bare feet. Flip-flops weren’t hiking equipment, and here I was so proud for taking care of the whole, “dress warmer” situation. I let out a wry chuckle. A week ago, I was on the warm beach just outside my house.

  “Leaping without looking,” I muttered. “How many times have I been accused of that?”

  Too many to count. And yet, given what had happened, I’d had no other option than to flee.

  Voices, low and male, wafted across my path, and I squinted through the trees. A hundred yards away, I saw Simon speaking with another man. Worry replaced the momentary ripple of pleasure at seeing him when I saw his angry gestures and heard the timbre of his voice. Something was wrong.

  The other man, familiar somehow, put his hands out, palms down, in a calming gesture which only seemed to set Simon off again.

  I stood frozen on the path not sure whether I should keep going as if I didn’t see them or call out.

  Taking a step back, I disturbed a nest of ring-necked quail. They flew out of the brush tittering and fluttering angrily. I flailed at them, half falling into the bushes. My hair and shawl caught in the low branches.

  Simon’s gaze snapped to me, startled at first, and then irritation spread across his face.

  I stopped struggling, my hair still caught over my head in the branch, shawl pulled akimbo. I shrugged, helplessly embarrassed. I was ensnared and couldn’t keep the tears from spilling down my enflamed cheeks. I stood under the tree, surrounded by the flying feathers and angry squawks. The confusion and stress of Nalla’s weird outburst, the disturbing tone of the warning from Yasmine and the others, all rode up on me, and I let the ragged sobs of frustration and worry bubble out.

  Simon said something to his companion and strode over.

  The other man left in the opposite direction, the tears blurring my view of him over Simon’s shoulder. When he got to me, his face looked more worried than angry. A good sign, I hoped.

  “What are you…are you OK?” He reached up, freeing my hair. “How did you get so tangled up in this branch?”

  “I just…” I wiped my face with my hands. “The dumb birds freaked out and…”

  “Be still.” Simon’s voice sounded gruff, and I glanced up. He looked tired, a slight purple hue under his blue eyes from lack of sleep. Pale scruff from his chin brushed against my forehead as he worked.

  “I didn’t mean to mess up your…meeting.” I sniffled.

  His arms reached to the branch caught with my shawl, and he looke
d down at me, his face unreadable. “I wasn’t in a meeting.”

  “I just meant—”

  “What are you doing out here anyway, Rosetta?” he cut in. “It’s supposed to rain any second.”

  Simon undid the snag, and my shawl dropped back down.

  I adjusted it, my breath still hitching from crying. “I just want to go home,” I whispered. “I wish I could just go home.”

  “Well, yes,” Simon said and rubbed his face with both hands, tired. “We should get back.”

  Dabbing my eyes with the shawl, I shook my head and struggled to control the emotion bubbling in my chest. A desperate prayer rose to my trembling lips, and I silenced it with a sigh.

  What am I doing here? Why did You lead me here to be frightened and alone?

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Where I’d hoped to find a friendly face, I only saw distance in Simon’s eyes.

  What was it about everyone in this place?

  Noble Island only seemed to grow darker and darker.

  9

  A jagged fissure lit up the sky. I flinched. The clouds, dark and roiling, rumbled with thunder a second later. Slivers of rain sliced through the trees and spiked at my flesh like tiny icicles. I shivered, my heart falling.

  “Great.”

  “Follow me,” Simon said, looking up. “We’re not going to make it in time.”

  “What are we doing?” I struggled to catch up to him. “We’re almost two miles from the house.”

  “There’s a greenhouse.” He looked back at me, raised a brow, and then took my hand. “Quickly, Rosetta.”

  We dashed along the path, my heart ramming as we ran. More lighting snapped across my vision, and I smelled the ozone, hairs spiking across my neck.

  “Simon, where are we going?”

  “My mother kept a greenhouse out here.” He tugged me along, his large hand encompassing mine. “Just over there.”

  Rain needled down, pricking on my forehead and nose with cold, as we hopped over a small creek bed. The rain loosened the dirt, and I slipped and slid in my flip-flops.

  Simon’s grasp steadied me.

  All around us, the sound of rain filled the air.

  “It’s coming down hard.” My breath came in a vapor, and I realized the temperature had dipped, also.

  “Almost there.”

  Ahead, the angled roof of a metal and glass structure came into view. The greenhouse looked old. Rusted white iron and wavy glass enclosed a space as large as my living room.

  We ran to the door, and Simon wrenched it open. A loud screech of metal sounded as we pushed through. He shut the door.

  We stood panting and listening to the rain tapping on the glass panels.

  My pulse thrummed in my head.

  “There’s a leak,” Simon said and pointed to a cracked section of glass just over the door and another in the corner. “But most of the panels are OK.”

  “Better than being out there,” I said and wondered if lightning was likely to hit us in this metal cage. “Thanks.”

  Simon nodded, his gaze gliding away.

  I wondered what was bothering him and whom he’d been yelling at in the woods.

  I scanned the shelves and wood work table, puzzled. If it weren’t for the cobwebs and dust, I would assume the gardener would be right back. A trowel lay beside a glazed pot half-filled with soil. Gloves, one on top of the other, as if recently taken off, sat beside the pot. A small metal spray bottle, its delicate nozzle gone rusty, hung on an ornate hook protruding from the wall.

  “Did your mother fall ill suddenly?” I asked.

  Simon whirled, a look of shock on his face.

  “She did.” He cleared his throat and brought a wood stool over. “A sudden fever overtook her. Tuttle found her on the ground just outside the door there.”

  “I’m sorry.” My stomach sank at the look on his face. Why did I have to bring that up? “I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s OK, you just took me by surprise.” Simon patted the seat. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you again.”

  “I hadn’t thought of her in a while.” He winced. “She’s been gone only seven years and already…” He hopped onto the wooden table, and sat facing me, his flaxen hair falling over one eye. “I used to come here and spend time with her as a child. She and I would plant species we collected from our visits around the world and try to grow them in this greenhouse. Sort of a way of remembering our adventures together.”

  “She sounds like a wonderful mother.”

  He looked exhausted.

  “Are you warm enough?”

  “Yes.” I held up the corner of my shawl and smiled. “I’m in official Noble Island wear today.”

  “I see that.” He chuckled. His white button oxford and khaki slacks bore the wet slashes of the sudden downpour. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure, Simon,” I said and raised a brow. “You, on the other hand, look worn. Is the appraisal not going well?”

  “I’m fine.” His smile faded.

  “I don’t want to pry—”

  “No, it’s OK.” Simon whipped hair from his eyes with his hand. “I’m not sleeping well, truth be told.”

  “I can’t sleep, either,” I confessed. “All the wind and rain keep me up. Too much noise at night for you, too?”

  “I’m used to that.” Simon shook his head, his gaze in the middle distance, as if he was trying to remember what he’d been saying. A shadow of something crossed his features…worry? “It’s not the noise.”

  He didn’t explain and sat in silence while he looked out the window lost in thought.

  I watched him, concern clouding my mind.

  He was more than distracted. He was confused somehow.

  The wind whipped a flurry of leaves against the glass and sputtered rain water through the cracks.

  “What did you get in town?” He cleared his throat, speaking as if he just realized I was there. “Anything good?”

  “Uh…” I lifted my bag. Should I tell him about the weird warnings and Nalla’s tirade about his wife? One glance at his weary expression and I decided to hold off. “I got some goldenseal tea. Actually, it’s good for sleeping if you want some.”

  “I already drink enough tea.” He hopped off the table and did a turn around the greenhouse, restless.

  “Oh, yeah. The strong one you gave me the other day. What kind of tea is that?”

  Because it tasted like window cleaner.

  “It’s, um…” He fiddled with the trowel handle, distracted. He really needed to sleep. “Amanna used to make it. She said it would keep my immune system going. It’s some kind of herb or flower.”

  I didn’t know what to say about that, so I nodded. I wondered about his wife and how she died. Davenport said accident, but Nalla was vehemently sure it wasn’t. And then there was Lavender. Her nightmares of her mother falling broke my heart.

  “Why were you walking home?” Simon looked at me, his eyes clear. “Tuttle said you went with O’Shay.”

  “Oh.” I shook my head. “It was something that happened at the village.”

  “What?” Simon’s brow furrowed.

  I was warned that Shadow Bay Hall was evil.

  “Nothing, I just…got a bit flustered,” I said instead. “I should have waited for O’Shay.”

  Simon circled the work table and leaned against it. His gaze wandered my face, from my eyes to my lips and back. His gaze was so magnetic I had to stop myself from leaning in towards him.

  “I read about the trial,” he said.

  I sucked in my breath. The familiar tightness in my chest crept forward at the mention of the trial.

  “Oh.”

  “You did the right thing, testifying for that accountant. He was innocent.”

  I stood abruptly. I didn’t want to talk about how I imploded my own family. I didn’t want to remember. Meaning to leave, I stopped when he reached out and touched my wrist.

  “Where are you
going?” he intoned. “You don’t have to talk about it, Rosetta.”

  His hand on me, my gaze caught up in his, and how close he was all collided with the intensity of sorrow over my family’s destruction.

  “No, it’s just still so fresh…”

  Simon watched me, his light brows furrowed. He let go.

  “I’m sorry I upset you. It’s not my business.”

  The heat of his hand was still on my skin and I rubbed my wrist. How could I tell this beautiful man that I wrecked people’s lives…that I caused pain to people who loved me? Still, I reached out and rubbed the scar on his jaw with my fingertips, not wanting him to step from me.

  “You look like you’ve been working non-stop. Maybe—”

  He placed his hand over mine, holding me against his skin, and I burned with the feel of him, unable to finish my sentence. We stood there in silence, our gazes locked, the sound of the rain pounding overhead. And then, just as suddenly, he moved away, clearing his throat. He shoved hands in his pockets, and blew his breath out slowly as he walked a few paces to look out the windows.

  “What is it about you, Rosetta…” Simon’s voice trailed off.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, the breathless quality to my voice embarrassing. Did he know the effect he had on me?

  “Ever since you showed up, I can’t think straight.”

  Not sure if that was a compliment, I watched his jaw work as he kept his gaze on the storm outside. Simon made me feel like I was on a merry-go-round going faster and faster and out of control. With music and lights and the heady feeling of being made weightless by an unseen force, and yet there was an underlying worry—a fear that all was not right.

  He turned, a strange look on his face. “In your botanical studies, have you ever come across something that messes with—”

  “You trying to kill me?” O’Shay’s voice made me jump.

  Simon and I turned to face the drenched Irishman, his face red with exertion as he glared at us through the windows. “I been looking all over for ya. What happened to meeting me?”

  “I—I didn’t—”

  He leveled an irritated scowl in my direction, and a rush of guilt fell over me.