“Sorry, Da.”
Da leaned in and sniffed. “You stink to high heavens. What were ya doing, rollin’ in onions?”
Helena laughed. “I was just in the kitchens. They showed me about.”
“Well, gra, Graham and I’ve been talkin’. He’s agreed to keep an eye on you while you’re here working. But you gotta promise that your mam ain’t to find out that you’re working on your own. Are we square?”
“Aye, Da.” She turned to him and her body grew rigid. “Thank you for the job, Graham.”
“You’re welcome. You’ll like Mary.” An image of Herb flashed through his mind. Hopefully with another hand in the kitchen, Mary could find more time to visit the infirmary. “Besides, she could really use the help. You know… with the cooking and all.”
Every time she was around him, he couldn’t seem to get his words right—and he needed to focus. The manor needed him. His family needed him. He couldn’t be worried about a woman—even if she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“So what kinda job is this that ya already found yourself?” Seamus asked as they walked toward the car park and their waiting lorry.
“It’s just kitchen work, Da. Today Mary had me choppin’ veg, but you should see the space they have, Da. And the stuff they got. They got everything you’d ever need to make whatever you want.” She talked faster and faster, and her eyes grew wide with excitement. “Plus, Mrs. Mary Margaret said I did a good job. She invited me to come back.”
Graham nodded his approval. “Mary’s a hard one to impress. You must have done a damn fine job.”
Helena’s smile widened, and her teeth sparkled in the afternoon light. He’d thought her beautiful from the moment he’d first seen her picture, but now, standing beside her in the hazy afternoon, beautiful didn’t seem to fit. She was beyond beautiful, the way her black hair contrasted with the rich olive color of her skin, and the way her eyes seemed to change from a rich walnut color to that of warm honey. She radiated magnificence like it was a color in her rainbow aura.
“Ummm…” Graham forced his mind back to the task at hand, but he couldn’t stop staring at Helena and the soft tendril of hair that had broken free and haloed her face. “Before you go… Mr. Shane likes to meet all new employees. Do you think you’re up for meeting him?”
“I must smell, like Da said, but…” Helena glanced over at her father.
Seamus nodded. “That’d be fine. I’d like ta know the man who’ll be signin’ my… I mean our… checks.”
They followed behind Graham as he turned and led them back into the manor.
“Good job, lass,” Seamus whispered. “Maybe Mr. Kelly was right about lettin’ ya work here. I think ya’ll do me proud.”
“Of course, Da…”
Hopefully Graham’s stepfather would be just as proud of him for getting them to stay—most importantly, for getting Helena to stay. Everything hinged on her ability. Hopefully she would be as pliable when he told her the truth… Hopefully she would forgive him for deceiving her. But if he told her the truth now, she would think him crazy and undoubtedly run from this place. He couldn’t risk losing her.
The receptionist didn’t look up from her computer as they passed by. She didn’t notice too much around her—which was likely why Mr. Shane had put her there.
Graham led them past the red-hued drawing room. The scent of oolong and honey cakes wafted out of the room, where several couples sat chatting. At the table nearest the window with a view of the River Maigue, a woman wore a purple fascinator that looked like a bird had perched on the side of her head. The bird-shaped hat bobbed as she swirled her tea, careful not to clink the spoon against the gold-encrusted china. Each week it was a different woman and a different fascinator, but it was always the same: wealthy tourists coming and going.
“This is the formal dining room and restaurant,” Graham whispered, trying not to draw their patrons’ attention.
Helena was wide-eyed as she took in the room of people. It wasn’t too busy this time of year; next weekend, and the festival, marked the beginning of the tourist season. Then she would see busy.
Graham continued down the hallway toward the stairs.
“I’ve never seen anything like this in all my life.” She hurried after him.
“You should see the formal dinners—ladies and gentlemen dressed in gowns and tuxes. Now that’s a sight.” Graham led them up the immense double-winder staircase. He paused for a heartbeat as his eyes caught the mysterious carving in the top stair’s kickboard. The carving was like the trinity, with three interlocking loops, but at its center was a small thistle. The artist had done a fine job blending it into the wood, but Graham never missed the special marking.
Stopping at a pair of hand-carved teak doors, Graham knocked. “Mr. Shane? I’ve brought the new employees for you to meet.”
From the other side came the sound of a sliding desk drawer and the jingle of keys. “Please, come in.”
The door swung open, revealing Mr. Shane’s large office and the back of his black leather chair.
• • •
Helena stifled a gasp as she walked into the immense office. Red, brown, and green books lined the outside walls in testament to the owner’s intelligence. The walls that weren’t covered in bookshelves were skirted with wainscoting and decorated with one-of-a-kind oil paintings of picnics and meandering creeks. A large, arched window looked out onto the gardens and the gurgling river.
At the center of the room stood a glass-covered desk with a laptop computer and a trio of gold-plated pens. The chair behind the desk slowly turned.
The man, whom Graham had addressed as Mr. Shane, sat with his fingers tented in front of his face. He looked to be about sixty—old by Traveller standards—but still strikingly handsome. A well-trimmed mustache curled around his lips and ended right at the corners of his mouth.
“Hello, I’m John Shane.” His American accent was like something straight off the telly. He stood up and extended his hand.
Helena was happy to wait for Da to make the first move. When he stepped forward and shook their new boss’s hand, Mr. Shane continued, “And you are?”
“This is—” Graham started, but Da cut him off.
“I’m Seamus O’Driscoll. This here’s me daughter Helena.”
Mr. Shane extended his hand to her. Da tilted his head, encouraging her to do as the man wished. Obliging, she stepped forward. The man stared at her as he shook her hand. His lingered a moment too long, and she pulled back.
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Shane said. “You look like someone I once knew. Strange world.”
“Aye, strange.” She pushed her hand behind her back, away from his reach.
Mr. Shane sat down and motioned for them to sit in three large chairs that faced his desk. “So how has Graham been treating you? Fairly, I presume?”
“Aye, yes. He’s been mighty grand.” Da teetered on the edge of the seat, as if he didn’t want to dirty the white cloth with his clothes. “’Twas real great of ya to give us these jobs. We were needin’ ’em.”
“Is that right? And why is that exactly?” Mr. Shane asked.
They were done. No American businessman was going to allow a convicted Traveller and his underdressed daughter to work at such a fine place.
“Well, to tell ya the God’s honest truth, I was in the clink for protectin’ me daughter’s honor.”
Helena’s cheeks flamed as Mr. Shane looked over at her.
“Do you have a wee daughter, Mr. Shane?” Da asked.
Mr. Shane laughed, the sound deep and rich. “No, I’m afraid not, but I can understand the need to protect one. It wasn’t Helena you were protecting, was it?”
“Nah, ’twas another. Only have one boy. ’Tis a cryin’ shame; the boy’s gettin’ to be more spoiled than a little prince. Causes gra a mo gris here a fair bit o’ trouble. Then again, he always keeps her on her toes.”
Helena silently prayed for the meeting to end, for Mr. Sha
ne to let her leave with the little dignity she had left.
Graham reached over to pat her arm, almost as if he could see how mortified she felt. His touch was soft, but the heat that radiated from his fingertips felt like flames that nibbled at her skin and raced toward her heart. She closed her eyes.
Her thoughts grew muddled, and bright lights flashed until images started to float through her mind.
A young boy ran alongside the red salvia gardens in front of the manor. The boy stopped at the edge of the river and teetered on the bank. In the distance, a woman stepped out of the side door and yelled something Helena couldn’t understand.
Graham let go of her arm. The images stopped, and reality swirled back into place.
She gripped the chair’s armrests so hard her fingers ached, and her nails threatened to tear away. She had to be going crazy. That was twice… twice in one day that she had seen… something. What was happening?
“Are you okay, Helena?” Mr. Shane asked. “You look a bit pale.” Mr. Shane motioned for Graham to get her a drink from a pitcher of water on the bar in the far corner of the room.
“I’m… I’m fine… I think I’m just a bit wiped. Been a long day.”
Graham handed her a glass.
“Thank you.” She took a sip, letting the ice-cold water slip down her throat. The exhaustion she’d felt in the kitchens returned, and her body ached for sleep.
She wrapped her hand around the sweating glass, and the cold nipped at her skin, forcing her to stay awake.
“Welcome.” Graham walked to the window behind Mr. Shane and cracked it open. A flood of fresh air wafted against her sweat-dampened skin, further chilling her.
Did she look so bad that he was worried for her? She set the glass on a coaster on Mr. Shane’s desk and ran the back of her hand over her forehead. Her skin felt hot; perhaps she was running a fever. Maybe that was what was causing these… these hallucinations.
“This all must be overwhelming for you,” Mr. Shane said, his lips trembling as he attempted to console her with a rusty smile.
Da patted her hand. “It’ll be okay, lass. Won’t it?”
“Yes… You’re right. I’ll be fine. ’Tis nothin’.” She felt like an invalid what with everyone hovering over her as if a simple breeze would bring her to her knees. The vision had been nothing, maybe something she had seen on the telly or a glitch in her overworked mind. She was stronger than they were treating her. She sat up straighter. “So, about the job?”
“Yes.” Mr. Shane flipped open a ledger that sat on his desk, grabbed a pair of reading glasses from his pocket, and put them on. “Graham has told me you will be working in the kitchens. Did Mary Margaret give you a uniform?” He looked up at her over the edges of his glasses.
“Not yet.”
“Well, remind her that you will need one. She should know these things by now.” Mr. Shane wrote something down on his ledger. “I will cover the price of your uniform this time, but should you need another, it will come out of your paycheck.”
“How much will she be making?” Da put his hands on the edge of the desk as if readying himself for negotiation.
“Well, she’ll be on salary. Forty hours a week and extra as needed during the main season. How does twenty thousand sound?”
Helena tried to cover her shock. She had never earned so much as a euro in her entire life. Da had given her a few notes here and there for clothes and such, but twenty thousand… That would be plenty. Plenty to build herself a life.
Da whistled through his teeth and dropped his hands from the desk. “Away with ya… Ya gotta be kidding.”
“Okay. Twenty-five.” Mr. Shane smiled, as if fully aware that he had overpaid at twenty. “You drive a hard bargain. Deal?”
Da stuck out his hand. “I think ya got yourself a deal.”
Mr. Shane chuckled as he shook Da’s hand.
Graham looked over at her and gave her a smile that seemed to erase all of the things she’d been holding against him. Maybe he had been telling the truth; maybe he wasn’t out to use her and throw her away.
“Congratulations.” He reached over and touched her skin.
A woman’s scream echoed up from the courtyard and through the open window. “Get away from there!” she yelled.
“What’s going on?” Mr. Shane stood and stepped to the window. “Graham—”
“Charlie! No!”
Graham’s hand fell to hers and the energy buzzed between them. He stood up and pulled her to the window, where she peered around his shoulder out into the gardens.
The vision that had played out in her mind only moments before was unfolding in slow-motion on the estate grounds below.
The young boy with the blond hair, the boy she had seen in her mind, teetered on the edge of the riverbank. The boy’s footing gave out, and he pitched backward into the water. For a split second, Helena could have sworn she saw a green hand coming out of the river to grab the boy’s ankle.
She must have been going mad.
The woman who had screamed, the boy’s mother, weaved through the maze of bushes, her long blond hair fanning out in the wind as she sprinted toward her drowning son.
Helena let go of Graham’s hand and rushed out of Mr. Shane’s office, through the corridors, and outside. Breathless, she reached the bank as the mother began flailing around in the water, trying to lift the boy, who was no bigger than Gavin, onto shore.
The boy’s hair was stuck to his skin and his clothes pasted against his tiny frame, giving him the look of an angelic doll that a child had carelessly thrown into the river.
Helena grabbed the boy under the arms and heaved him up onto the grass.
His eyes were closed and his body motionless. His lips had turned a faint blue. Helena pressed her hands onto his chest over and over, trying to do CPR, but the boy didn’t respond.
The mother waded out of the water and dropped to the ground beside the boy. As she looked down upon her child, a choked cry escaped her.
Helena lifted the boy’s chin and pressed her lips to his. A faint charge, like static electricity, snapped between them. Energy moved between them as she breathed into his body. His lips warmed beneath hers, and a muscle in his cheek twitched with life.
She sat back. Some of his color had returned, but his chest remained still. “Come on, Charlie… Take a breath, gra.”
She bent down again. A surge of energy, stronger this time, moved through her and spread into the small boy. In her mind, it was almost as if she could feel the energy seeping into the boy’s cooling body, spreading to his lungs and capturing the water within them. Pain rose in her own lungs, as if she were fighting for her own life instead of the young boy’s. She pulled back.
One, two, three, four, five times she compressed his chest. She leaned in and pinched his nose. Another breath. The pain in her lungs lessened as her energy grew stronger.
Please Lord, save this boy.
One, two, three, four…
An overwhelming sense of fear surged up from the boy and spread through her fingers. She dropped her tingling hands from his chest, and the sensation stopped.
The boy spewed water from his mouth. Helena drew back and shook out her hands. Nothing made sense, but it didn’t matter—she had saved the boy.
Water trickled down from his lips as he started to cough.
His mother lifted him into her lap and rested his head against her chest. “Charlie, oh my god, Charlie. I love you.” Tears slipped down her cheeks as she rocked back and forth with her baby.
A hand touched Helena’s shoulder. She looked up, into Graham’s eyes. He helped her to stand. Her knees were weak, and she choked back tears. She had no power to resist as he pulled her into his arms.
The little boy could have been Gavin, playing too close to a dangerous river… In another second he would have been gone, slipping into the greedy hands of death.
She pressed her face into Graham’s warm chest.
The boy had come so close to dy
ing—and she had seen it all play out before it happened. Was she causing these awful things to occur? Or was there something more? Something she didn’t dare whisper?
Chapter Seven
The feeling of Graham’s arms around her was something Helena would never forget. He had held her so tightly that she heard the beat of his heart. After a moment, her own heartbeat matched his, as if they had become one—if only for a single moment.
A piece of her had fallen away when she forced her body to step out of his arms, whose hold had seemed made for her alone.
Why did she have to feel this… desire? He was out of bounds, off-limits on every front. The attraction could be nothing more than a fleeting thought, just like the moment she’d spent in his muscular arms.
Helena stirred the lamb stew that simmered on the cooker as she glanced out the window of the trailer. Mam hadn’t moved from her seat by the campfire all evening. Da sat next to her. Mam’s face was contorted with rage as she spoke to him.
The door to the trailer slammed open, and Gavin ran inside, followed by the more sluggish Rionna. Her fingers tapped away on her mobile as she looked up. “What’s for dinner?”
“Stew and soda bread. Sound good?” Helena sliced a carrot and slid it into the pot.
Rionna shrugged and flopped down on the couch.
Gavin latched onto Helena’s leg. “I missed you! Did Da like his new job? What’s it like? Did they have puppies?”
“It’s grand. Lots of flowers and a garden. There’s even a pretty river, but I didn’t see a pup.”
He let go of her leg. “A river? I wanna go swimmin’.”
“Nah, not in that river…” Helena’s thoughts drifted to Charlie as she went back to stirring the stew. His mother had rushed him to the hospital, but no one had heard anything else.
Da stepped into the trailer. “Gavin and Rionna, run along. I need to talk to your sister.”
Gavin scampered past Da and headed straight for the woods, but Rionna sighed as she stood up and stuffed her mobile into her pocket, as if Da had interfered with her ever-important social schedule. She slammed the door as she stomped out.
Once a Gypsy Page 6