Bram was appalled. “Are you telling me that my father and Aunt Addy—”
”No, of course not. There was nothing physical between them. Your father did sleep with other women before me. Adrienne took great pleasure in telling me all about them on our wedding day. She informed me that no matter what kind of physical bond he and I had, it would never be as strong as the spiritual bond they shared. She said he was only marrying me to beget an heir. I didn’t believe her, of course, but she was correct. I was young. Foolish. Madly, wildly in love. I thought Donahue felt the same.”
“Father did love you.” At least Bram thought he had.
“As best he could, perhaps. He loved Adrienne better. He deferred to her in all things. They were in truth life partners. To her, I was nothing. To him, I was the beautiful young mother of his child. I needed more.”
“So why didn’t you tell him?”
“I did. I tried to take him away from this place.” Her laugh was bitter. “He wouldn’t go to Chicago. He wouldn’t even get another house somewhere down the lakefront. Foolishly, I thought that if I got him and you away from Adrienne, even a mile away, we three might have a future together. He wouldn’t consider it, told me that I needed to grow up.” She shook her head. “I needed to grow up. Adrienne cheated me of the one thing I wanted more than anything in the world. My own family.”
Cheated. Bram’s suspicions were not yet allayed. “Is that when you started cheating on him?”
His mother gave him an appalled expression, but her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “There were no other men for me while your father was alive, Bram. You may believe it or not. That’s your choice.”
I know her as well as I know myself, a voice whispered in his head.
So you know everything about her, eh? Even that she’s my mistress?
Liar! She wouldn’t do that, not take up with someone like you!
“Bram?” his mother said, her tone disturbed. “Are you all right? You don’t look well.”
Wasn’t it the same female voice saying, We’re in love. We have been for a long time?
“Bram!” His mother finally broke through his concentration. “Please, tell me you don’t hate me.”
She looked as if she really cared. In all the years of his life, he’d never seen such naked fear written on her face.
“I don’t hate you, Mother.”
He wasn’t certain if he loved her, either, and if all that she had told him was fact, she truly had been cheated. And so had he. His mother had been so afraid of his hate, that she’d held him at arm’s length even after they’d left Dunescape Cottage for good. And all his life, he’d been deprived of the thing he’d wanted most. A close-knit family. People who cared for each other like Echo and her sister’s family did. A sense of community.
He needed time to sort things out. To remember what his child’s mind had chosen to forget. How much more time, he didn’t know. But the memories were coming more often now.
Surely the past would be his and soon.
He rose. “I have some things to take care of.”
“Don’t leave now, with this unsettled between us.”
“We’ll settle things, Mother, and very soon.”
Her wounded stare followed him out of the room, as did her claims, which rang in his head. He felt as if he were in an alien environment. Among strangers. Mother. Aunt Addy. Did he really know either of them?
What to do?
Work would take his mind off this newest twist in the puzzle. For a while. Though he’d been up for nearly two hours, a good part of which he’d spent hiking home from Echo’s place, he wasn’t hungry. His stomach knotted at the thought of food. But he could definitely use a cup of coffee.
Hot, bracing, strong.
Stepping into the kitchen, he came face-to-face with Uriah Hawkes, who obviously had the same idea. The groundskeeper was filling a mug for himself.
Thoughts of legal procedures faded as Bram remembered the cement trail and quickly formulated a plan.
“Just the man I wanted to see,” Bram told Uriah. “I have some errands I’d like you to run for me. In town.”
Far enough away to give him time to search the man’s quarters.
“I’m at your disposal, Mr. Bram.”
Was there a snide tone in the agreement or was he imagining things? Bram wondered. He didn’t know what to think anymore, or how to tell fact from fiction.
“I want you to pick up some supplies from the hardware store.” He found a pad of paper and pencil and began scribbling a fabricated list. He looked up and watched the groundskeeper’s face carefully as he added, “And then stop at the library. Ask Mrs. Ahern to make hard copies of some newspaper articles that are on microfilm. Tell her I need everything she can get me about the robbery and my father’s death.”
He noted the flicker deep in Uriah’s eyes. Surprise? Or shock?
“Yes, sir, Mr. Bram,” was all he said before setting the mug down on the sink and taking the bogus list. “I’ll get on that right away.”
If Uriah had nothing to hide, why wouldn’t he ask about the articles? Anyone would, just out of natural curiosity for so unusual a request, right?
Bram got his own coffee and stood at the kitchen window until the other man got into his car and drove off the grounds. After grabbing the master keys from the pantry, he was out the door, crossing to the coach house, glancing around to make certain no one was watching him. He thought he spotted a fleeting movement at the library window, but on second glance decided it had been an illusion.
The interior of the spacious single-room coach house was a mess. If Lena was allowed inside to clean more than a few times a year, Bram would be surprised. Every horizontal surface was covered with dusty magazines and junk mail and odds and ends that had probably come from Uriah’s pockets only to be forgotten once so discarded. Clothes lay strewn on the couch and chairs, shoes and boots in the middle of the floor. The bed was unmade, the wildly twisted covers and sheets spilling off the end.
Wondering why any man chose to live in such a pig sty, Bram took as deep a look as he could get. The problem was, he didn’t know what he was looking for.
Uriah Hawkes seemed to be a man with no personal taste. And yet many of the magazines and pieces of junk mail weren’t what Bram would consider typical fare for a groundskeeper. From the look of it, Uriah had a thing for travel, hot cars and even hotter women. He guessed every man had the right to dream.
Quickly scanning the bathroom and the closet, he came up with nothing more substantial.
About to leave, he spotted the telephone on the bedside table and glanced at his watch. Echo should be at her shop by now. Maybe he ought to call and check on her. Let her know her wagon was running.
Pulling out his cell phone, he parked himself on the edge of the mattress and, tapping out the number, leaned back on one arm. Something hard and sharp bit into his elbow. Wondering what the messy groundskeeper might have brought into bed with him, he lifted his elbow.
“Echoes,” came the response.
The tiny object slid along the sheet toward Bram’s knee. Eyes widening, h cursed aloud.
At the other end, Echo caught her breath and said, “If this is an obscene call— ”
”It’s me,” Bram interrupted, his pulse speeding up. “You’ll never believe what I just found.”
Picking up the object between two fingers, he stared at what had once been part of the missing fancy-dress button.
A tiny cut emerald.
“SMART THAT you didn’t let Vanmatre cut me out altogether,” Travis told Echo as they dug into their lunch at the casual restaurant across from her shop. “He’ll be on his way back to Chicago any day now.”
A pang shot through Echo. Undoubtedly, he was correct. No reason she ought to think Bram had any desire to stay in Water’s Edge, but she didn’t want him to leave. He’d said he cared about her, and yet she could almost feel the loss of separation.
The way Bram had worked with th
e kids, his taking care of her the night before, and his seeing to the insurance for the youth group... well, she never met a man who deserved her trust more.
Thinking Bram would be none too happy if he knew she’d agreed to spend time with his aunt’s neighbor, she said, “You make me sound like some prize in a competition.”
“That’s not what I meant. Vanmatre and me, we don’t see eye to eye on much of anything. I thought maybe he said some things that might not be flattering.”
“I always make up my own mind about people,” she hedged, taking another spoonful of the spicy chili.
Travis grinned, the expression well-practiced. Though Bram thought finding the button proved Uriah was a thief— and once a thief, always a thief, therefore pinning him down as the one who’d stolen Priscilla Courtland’s jewels— Echo figured there was more to the puzzle. For all she knew, Travis might be one of the pieces. The button had belonged to his father. Besides, if Uriah had the jewels, why was he still playing caretaker?
“That’s good,” he was saying. “‘Cause you and me, now, we could have something special going.”
Not if she could help it. But Echo smiled encouragingly. “As in?”
“Whatever your little heart desires. Under the right circumstances.” Dropping his spoon into his half-empty bowl, he stretched back and eyed her intently. “Vanmatre tell you about the last do held at Dunescape?”
“I’ve heard about the ball, yes.”
“Then you know about the jewels.”
Aha, now they were getting somewhere. “The Courtland jewels were stolen at midnight, never to appear again. What about them?”
“My guess is they never left the mansion. And you have run of the place,” he said pointedly.
Echo remembered their brief encounter in her shop when he was so interested in the hidden rooms. “Until the fundraiser is over.”
“Maybe long enough. Think of it,” he said, his voice lowering into a seductive murmur. “A fortune in jewels just sitting around waiting to be found.”
And he thought that if she could hand him the house’s secrets, he would be able to find the jewels, Echo realized. Did that mean he knew something the rest of them didn’t? She decided to play along.
“So what exactly do you want of me?”
“If you hear or see anything that could help me find them, I’d make sure it would be worth your while to let me know.”
His tone intimated the reward would be personal as well as monetary. Her stomach turned, and having lost her appetite, Echo set down her own spoon.
“Even though the jewels belong to Priscilla Courtland?” she asked.
“Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “Her old man collected the insurance. As far as I’m concerned, that made things square with her.”
“You do have a point.” Though she was certain that both Priscilla and the insurance company would see things differently.
“Then we have a deal?”
“I’ll tell you just as much as you would tell me if you learned something,” she agreed, knowing that would be exactly zero.
Travis obviously didn’t get her drift. This smile wasn’t practiced. It was the expression of a man who was certain he’d pulled the wool over a gullible woman’s eyes.
GULLIBLE, THAT’S WHAT she’d been. And she would be tormented for it for the rest of her life.
Tormented now, Addy paced before her brother. As usual, he refused to speak to her.
He punished her with his silence.
“I’m afraid, Donahue, and I don’t know what to do.”
Lightning crackled and lit the windows, casting the room with a bluish glow. Her gaze settled on her beloved twin, who sat in his favorite chair in his favorite room staring into the dancing flames. More than forty years before, she’d bought the identical leather chairs for the two of them, so that each evening they could sit by the fire and share their thoughts as they shared their lives. At the moment, a building anxiety kept her from taking her rightful place in hers.
“Disaster,” she intoned, as thunder continued to rumble low and ominous in the distance. “Sibyl saw it in the cards. And I feel it in my heart.”
Disaster involving Bram, though she couldn’t put that horrible thought to words.
Donahue looked worried, too. He’d been brooding again. His expression was darker than she’d ever seen it. Darker than the storm clouds gathering over Dunescape Cottage.
Addy stopped directly in front of him. “You’re not still angry with me, are you? I never meant to hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”
But, no matter how many times she’d told him, she wasn’t certain that he did. She threw herself at his feet, tried to grasp his hand, but Donahue pulled it away before she could touch him. Turning his eyes to her at last, his judgmental gaze burned her very soul.
“I’ve devoted my life to you to make up for what happened,” she said with a sob. “Isn’t that enough?”
How could it be enough? Nothing would bring him back, not really. As it was, he rarely allowed her his company.
“I’ll think of something, you’ll see. Tomorrow. All Hallow’s Eve. The anniversary of your death. How appropriate. Yes. Somehow, I’ll prevent the disaster and prove my devotion to you.”
Lightning and thunder punctuated her heartfelt declaration. Donahue seemed unmoved. Sometimes Addy was afraid he would never forgive her, no matter what she did.
Deep in her heart where the responsibility weighed heaviest, she knew he was right not to.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RESPONSIBILITY PRESSED DOWN on Echo as she realized that the fundraiser could be a wash if the storm kept up through the next day. The skies opened even before the dozens of people who’d come to put the finishing touches on the Haunted Mansion were able to head their vehicles into town. She walked her sister to the front door.
“You’re sure you don’t want us to follow you home?” Izzy asked, as cars began moving through the rain.
“No, but tell Roger thanks. I’ve got some things to finish up here.”
Izzy gave her an exasperated expression. “Everything looks great. And the worst of this is supposed to blow over by morning. Get some rest, would you?”
“Yeah, Auntie E, you can use Drac’s coffin,” Jason suggested as he jogged the length of the roofed veranda.
“Oh, gross!” Gussy yelled, following on his heels.
A horn blared from the vehicle waiting at the bottom of the front steps, and Izzy gave Echo’s cheek a swift kiss. “Stop worrying.” To the kids she said, “C’mon, you two, let’s get going before Dad gets impatient. He’s hungry.”
“Uh-oh,” Echo said, laughing as they all braved the rain.
Roger Medlock was a sweetheart . . . unless his stomach was empty. She waved to him as Izzy and the kids climbed into the sedan. Then she headed for the ballroom where Bram would be waiting for her.
Making her way back through the dimly lit house, the only sounds those of the rain and wind, she did a last minute check. Izzy was right. Everything did look great. And she was feeling pretty good herself, most of her kinks and soreness worked out. Only her left shoulder still hurt where she’d banged it while shooting down the drainpipe -- something she’d kept from her sister. The fact bothered her a bit, but Izzy would go nuts if she thought someone was after her.
Echo was passing the conservatory and almost to the ballroom entrance and the stairs that led to the second floor guest quarters when a faint scraping sound came from behind her.
But when she turned, she saw nothing. No one hidden among the plants. No one in the hall or the entrance to the kitchen. As the rain beat down harder on the conservatory glass panes, the sensation persisted, making her wonder if the walls themselves didn’t have eyes.
How many secrets did the house hold?
Shaking away the creepy awareness that threatened her calm, she assured herself she hadn’t imagined it. She didn’t want to think about the invisible presence that she’d felt several times now.
She didn’t want to think she could turn out like Mama.
Hurrying to meet Bram, she stopped in the ballroom doorway. Dozens of carved pumpkins had been left by the terrace doors. And he was taking care of what was to have been a last-minute task, carefully arranging a couple of the would-be Jack-o-lanterns on one of several refreshment tables.
“Trying for the best effect?” she teased, entering.
“Trying to make good use of my time.”
“Uh-huh. I thought you wanted to supervise.”
One of his dark brows lifted. “Start hauling pumpkins, and I’ll stand back and watch.”
“We can work together.” Thinking they’d been doing that and quite well whether working on the decorations or on the mystery, she picked up two of the smallest carved pumpkins and carried them to another table. “I did a little sleuthing on my own over lunch.”
“Mrs. Ahern?”
“Travis Ferguson.”
“I thought I warned you about him.” Bram’s intense reaction sounded hollow in the cavernous, high-ceilinged room.
She was pleased that he cared enough to be concerned. “Don’t you want to know what he was after?”
“You.”
The way he said it made her flush with a pleasant warmth. The single word had the tiniest ring of jealousy. She couldn’t help but smile.
“The keys to Dunescape,” she said, crossing to the terrace doors to fetch a pumpkin. “Rather its secrets. He believes the jewels never left the manor, and he means to find them.”
Following, Bram glowered. “So that explains the lights. One of our other neighbors told me Father was ‘walking’ again. He saw mysterious lights around the house through the fog. Probably Travis and old Norbert scurrying around, looking for the entrance to a tunnel.”
“You have a tunnel, too?”
“Every good rum-running mansion needs at least one,” he said wryly. “We have two.” He set his pumpkin next to hers. “You’re not going to see him again.”
DANGEROUS, Collection #1 Page 35