by Deborah Camp
Lily placed a queen upon a king. “Yes.” She weighed her impulse to tell Orrie that Griffon hadn’t been the only one sensing things and found it a burden she wanted to share. “Orrie … remember how we loved to play hide-and-seek?”
“Sure I do. You always found us. Me and Cecille couldn’t hold a candle to you. I swear you were better at finding us than any bird dog would’ve been.”
“That’s right. I could usually find missing objects. Sometimes I could even know things about people. Remember how I knew what was in the boxes before I opened the presents on Christmas morning?”
Orrie closed the book and set it on the table. “Lily Jane Meeker, what’s come over you?”
For a moment, Lily thought Orrie meant she’d noticed a change brought on by the afternoon of lovemaking, but her heart settled into a normal beat when she realized Orrie was talking about her knowing things before others.
“I used to ask you about this way you had … how you could guess right most of the time and how you mostly knew what was under the Christmas tree before lifting the lids off the boxes. I used to think you snooped and found those presents before they’d been wrapped, but then I suspected you just knew.” Orrie clasped her hands in her lap and angled closer to Lily. “When I tried to get you to talk about it, why it was like trying to talk to a hoot owl. You’d just blink those big eyes at me like I was plumb nuts.”
Lily caught her lip between her teeth in a moment of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Orrie. Was I a rascal?”
“A loving one, so it’s okay.”
Holding out one hand, Lily grasped Orrie’s and squeezed. “You’ve been my mainstay, Orrie, and far better to me than I deserved.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” Keeping Lily’s hand in her own, Orrie moved from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed. “You want to tell me how you always found me and Cecille when we played hide-and-seek?”
Lily examined Orrie’s age-spotted hand, thinking how many times that hand had comforted her. “I’m not sure I can. I just knew. When I wandered near you, I felt it. Like today when I felt that grave before I saw it, and then I knew who was buried there before I saw the name scratched in the wooden cross.” She laughed self-consciously. “Griffon thinks I’m like him. He says I have tactile memory.”
“What in tarnation is that?”
“From what Griffon says, it means I can touch things and sense things about them. For instance, I can hold this card”—she held up an ace of hearts—“and sense that Balthazar’s held it recently.”
Orrie released a squeak worthy of a mouse and plastered her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were big and startled above her hand. Lily dropped the card to rest her hand on Orrie’s shoulder.
“Dear me! Don’t get so upset.” Lily pulled Orrie’s hand away from her mouth. “You’ve known for years that I was overly sensitive. You’re right, I hid it because it scares me. Evidently, it scares you, too.”
“I’m not scared … exactly.” Orrie sucked in a breath. “You shook me up, that’s all.” She screwed up one eye. “How’d you know that Balthazar was in here today showing me a few card tricks? Did that nosy hotel clerk flap his lips?”
“No, I haven’t spoken to the clerk. I knew because I touched this card, and when I did I saw Balthazar in my mind.” She tipped her head, listening to herself. “I certainly sound addlepated.”
“Oh, honeypot, I don’t mean to make you feel that way. I just never figured you could know so much or how you knew it. I always felt you were a sensitive child, but I hadn’t thought of you as a psychic.”
“I’m not.”
“But I thought that’s what you’ve been trying to tell me.”
“I’m not … psychic. I’m …” She paused, searching for a word that didn’t rankle her. “Observant.”
Orrie clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Now, Lily, you know good and well it’s more than that. I’ve seen your spells. Whatever you’ve got, it’s getting stronger. That’s why you’re finally talking about it to me. Isn’t that right?”
Lily gathered up the cards. “It’s his fault, I think.” She glanced at Orrie and clarified. “Griffon. He poked a hole in this dam inside of me, and that hole is getting bigger and bigger, letting more and more out.”
“You don’t like that?”
“No, I don’t. A person should be in command of her faculties. If you can’t control yourself, then you end up in a hospital for the insane.”
“The insane?” Orrie laughed lovingly and smoothed a hand over Lily’s hair. “Dear girl, your imagination is running away with you. Why, you’re not insane or anywhere close to it.”
“But if my emotions run away with me, that’s what will happen, don’t you see? It’s better if I keep these … these quirks under wraps. They shouldn’t be encouraged, and that’s what Griffon does every chance he gets.” She tapped the cards in her palm. “He’s exciting and interesting and intelligent. But he doesn’t understand my world. He sees no complications in encouraging such odd behavior. His own family turned their backs on him, but I suppose he doesn’t think that will happen to me.”
“It won’t.”
“It already has … once.”
Orrie took the deck of cards from her hands and placed them on the bedside table. Holding Lily’s hands, she waited until Lily looked at her before she spoke again.
“You mean your father, honeypot?”
Lily nodded.
“You think he left you with your aunt and uncle because of how you acted?”
“I know he did.”
“Oh, now you don’t know any such thing. You’re only guessing. I told you that your father thought you’d be happier in Fort Smith than growing up around a boring old college.”
“Yes, I know that’s what you told me, but I always knew better. I knew in my heart that Father didn’t trust me.”
“Trust you?” Orrie laughed softly. “What are you talking about, dearie?”
Lily faced her squarely. “You know what I’m talking about, Orrie. Father is a no-nonsense man. He doesn’t believe in magic or wizardry or psychics. Why, he told Uncle Howard about Griffon in jest! I’m sure he never expected Uncle Howard to actually hire Griffon. Don’t you see? I warned Mother away from the snakes, and Father couldn’t rationalize that. The only answer he could come up with was that I must have seen the snakes there and didn’t tell him or Mother about them. I know that for a while he thought I told Mother to walk in that area and then got upset when the snakes bit her.”
Orrie shook her head emphatically. “Don’t say that, Lily. Your father would never think such evil of you.”
“He did think it, Orrie. He no longer believes that of me, but he’s uneasy around me. The day Mother died he stopped loving me.” She slid off the bed and crossed to look out the window. “That’s why I can’t let these feelings I have run amok. I couldn’t bear it if I lost your love or Aunt Nan’s or Uncle Howard’s.”
“Now listen here,” Orrie said, bustling to her and grasping her shoulders from behind. She laid her cheek between Lily’s shoulder blades. “Nothing you could do would make me stop loving you. You’re my sweet honey-pot. Always will be.”
Lily drew back one panel of the sheer draperies and sighed. “I never would have thought I could lose Father’s love, but it happened.” She recalled the vision she’d had of that day long ago when her father had been so young and her mother so achingly beautiful. She had felt her father’s unconditional love in that memory, and the beauty of it was now bittersweet in her heart. “Griffon seems to think I might be able to find Cecille more easily than him.”
“That makes sense. You and Cecille have always been so close. Lily, maybe you should listen to what Mr. Griffon says. He knows about these things and he—”
“No, Orrie.” Determination firmed her voice. “And don’t talk about this to anyone else, especially Aunt Nan and Uncle Howard. I couldn’t bear it if they spurned me as Father did.”
“Honey, they won’t.
They love you.”
“So did Father,” Lily whispered, losing her voice to emotion. She managed a tremulous smile. “Someday he might again. I hope so.”
“I’m thinking of going back to Fort Smith tomorrow.”
Griffon lowered the newspaper slowly and looked across the breakfast table at Lily. She didn’t seem to be joking, but he found it difficult to believe she was serious. After yesterday, after their day of making love, how in the world could she be thinking of leaving him when all he could think about was how to get her alone? He shifted his gaze to Orrie and saw that the announcement had surprised her as well.
“When did that thought spring into your head?” Orrie asked. “You didn’t say anything last night about wanting to head back.”
Lily bobbed a shoulder. “I came along because I wanted to keep an eye on Griffon and Balthazar. I didn’t trust them, but I do now. There’s no reason to stay.” She smiled stiffly at each man. “I’m sure you two can carry on quite well without my interference.”
Balthazar stroked his pointy beard. “It might be best. If we’re to tangle with those Jefferses again, it could get nasty.” He winked at Orrie. “Of course, we’ll miss your lovely faces and gracious company.”
Griffon folded the newspaper and cleared his throat. “Zar, Orrie, would you be so kind as to allow me some privacy with Lily?”
“There’s no need to dismiss them,” Lily protested. “Say what you have to say.” She laughed, but the sound carried little humor. “After all, we have no secrets to keep.”
He knew she was trying to cover, needlessly, their more intimate relationship. “Nevertheless, I’d like to talk privately with you.”
Balthazar stood and cocked an eyebrow at Orrie. “Shall we?” He extended his hand and she took it. “Might I suggest a morning stroll?”
Orrie patted Lily’s shoulder before she left. “Whatever you decide is fine with me.”
Griffon moved to the chair Orrie had vacated, which put him beside Lily. “Now what’s all this business about you leaving tomorrow? And be careful, you might hurt my feelings.”
Lily dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “I should think you’d be pleased with my decision. After all, it proves that I’ve grown to trust you and Zar. It’s time I returned home and let you and your assistant concentrate solely on finding my cousin.”
The graceful motion of her hand attracted him, and he captured it and smoothed his thumb over the top. Her skin felt delicate, soft as a petal. “I rather enjoy being distracted by you.”
“But you were sent here to find Cecille, not court me.” She gently but firmly, disengaged her hand from his. “Please, Griffon.” Glancing around the crowded hotel restaurant, she gathered her mouth into a bud of censure. “You promised not to treat me differently in public.”
“So I did.” He inched away from her with effort. “So, why this sudden decision to run?” He grinned when his arrow found its mark and made her eyes blaze. “That is what you’re doing, Lily. Tie all the pretty bows and tails you want to it, but you’re still a kite flying far, far away. Was yesterday so traumatic?”
“This hasn’t anything to do with yesterday.”
He bit back an epithet. Absently, he fingered the scar at the corner of his eye. “I want to make love to you again, Lily. How can I do that if you’re in Fort Smith and I’m stuck here in Van Buren?”
“This proves my point. You should be devoting yourself to finding Cecille. I daresay that if I weren’t here you’d be riding to Devil’s Den this very moment to scout that area. Instead, you’re keeping me company.” She placed the napkin in her plate. “Once Cecille is located, then you and I can commence with our lives.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, and pink color tinted her cheeks again. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I was remembering how lovely your skin is—all over. Cream-colored, but with a bit of peach across your breasts and stomach.”
“Griffon!” She glanced nervously from side to side, and her voice sounded like the hiss of a cat with its back up. “You swore you wouldn’t treat me this way! Excuse me. I must pack.”
“No.” He caught her wrist, and the pressure of his fingers stayed her. “You’re not going anywhere until we talk to each other—honestly. Now tell me the reason why you’ve decided to scamper back to Fort Smith. If it’s not what happened between us, then it must be your psychic energies spooking you.”
“You don’t need me here.”
“I want you here.” He linked his fingers with hers. “Honestly, I believe you can help. You have a special connection to Cecille that I lack. You might be the key we need to locate her.”
“You’re just saying that to keep me here.”
“Lily, look at me.” He waited for her to comply. “I won’t lie to you—ever. I ask nothing of you but the truth. Are you running from me or from yourself?”
She turned her face aside. “Both.”
Sighing with regret, he released her hand and sat away from her. “And I thought yesterday was a breakthrough.”
“It was, but perhaps not the one you thought. I accept that I have certain—well, for lack of a better word, powers. That, for me, is a breakthrough because I never admitted it before. But admitting it to myself is all I want. I’m not going to tell the world or explore these powers any further.”
“Why not?”
“Because it won’t accomplish anything. It will only cause more pain.”
“More pain? Who’s been hurt?”
“My mother.”
He made a face. “You don’t believe that. Your mother died of snakebites.”
“My father suffered great pain. We’ll never be close again.”
“That’s his loss. If he’s too narrow-minded to see that you’re a walking, talking miracle, then he doesn’t deserve to be around you.”
She gave a short sigh. “You are making this very difficult. When I came downstairs this morning I was sure of what I was doing and what I was going to say to you, but then …”
He smiled. “Then what?”
Her gaze slipped to his. “Then I saw you and all my good intentions went up in smoke.”
“What brought this crazy idea into your head, Lily? Why did you decide to put distance between us? Yesterday was beautiful, but you make me wonder if perhaps you’re disappointed.”
“No, it’s nothing to do with that.” She glanced around again and lowered her voice to a bare whisper. “I shall treasure that memory forevermore. The thing is, I came along to make sure you and Zar were what you professed to be. I’m satisfied that you’re working with my family’s best interests in mind. I didn’t come along to—to fall into stupors and scare up old ghosts. I know you want to explore my—my quirks, but I don’t want that. I like myself and my life, and I have no desire to change either.”
He couldn’t say he entirely believed her, but he thought better of voicing his doubts. Before he could fashion a response, a rotund woman dressed in a plain dress with a white pinafore over it approached their table.
“Begging your pardon, but are you Miss Lily Meeker?” she inquired.
“Yes, I am.” Lily turned in her chair to face the woman.
“I work for the Victor Fishbine family. Mr. Fishbine is the bank president here.”
“Yes, I believe the Fishbines dined in my uncle’s home last year.”
“That’s right, miss.” The woman curtsied. “Mr. and Mrs. Fishbine asked that I give this to you, miss. It’s a dinner invitation. Should I wait for a response or come back later?”
“Wait just a moment, please.” Lily opened the envelope and withdrew a single sheet of scented stationery that bore Mrs. Harriet Fishbine’s signature. “Oh, the dinner is tonight?”
“Yes, miss. In your honor, miss.”
“Oh, dear. I was planning on leaving soon. Today, tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“Should I tell them you can’t attend, miss? They’ll be so disappointed. They would have plann
ed the dinner sooner, but they learned you were in town only last night. A wire arrived from your uncle.”
“I see.” Lily looked to Griffon. “Just like Uncle Howard to alert any friends or acquaintances so that they, too, could keep an eye on me.” Then she turned back to the woman. “Please accept on my behalf and thank the Fishbines for their thoughtfulness.”
“And tell them she’s bringing a guest,” Griffon cut in. He grinned at Lily’s wide-eyed surprise. “Any objections?”
“None.” She nodded at the maid. “Mr. Griffon Goforth will accompany me.”
“Fine, miss. I’ll tell them.” After another curtsy, she left them.
“Changed your mind again, I take it,” Griffon said. “You’ll be staying another day or two.”
“Yes. I couldn’t be rude and refuse the invitation. Not after Uncle Howard went to the trouble of letting the Fishbines know I’m in town.” She shifted to face him again. “And what are you going to do about finding Cecille today?”
“I’m going to talk to the sheriff again and let him know I’m going out to the Jeffers place again tomorrow. The sheriff and I are going to talk with a few saloon girls who have serviced the Jeffers boys. Maybe one of them indulged in pillow talk. Women of ill repute usually are the most informed. Maybe they even saw Cecille if she was ever in town.”
“You’re going to Devil’s Den tomorrow?”
“That’s right. Bright and early. But that won’t keep me from escorting you to the dinner tonight. You won’t be ashamed to be seen with this vagabond Gypsy, will you?”
“Don’t be silly.” She laid one hand alongside his face. “I never felt that way about you. And don’t look at me that way—calling me a liar with those damning eyes of yours. Maybe I had one or two unkind thoughts about you, but I never felt those things in my heart. You must believe me, Griffon. I objected to your way of making a living, but not to your heritage.” She snatched her hand away as if suddenly realizing that she was in a public place.
“Do you still object to the way I make my living?” he asked, sensing her answer before she gave it.
“Yes … but not as strenuously. I know now that much of what you do helps other people.”