by Lynn Cooper
“What happened to you calling me Tretan?”
“I thought you never wanted me to utter your first name ever again. I didn’t mean to say it in the emergency room or just now. I guess between the pain and the medication, it just slipped out.”
His fingers squeeze mine tighter. “I’ve changed my mind, Nora. Hearing it on your lips feels like a healing balm instead of a painful affliction.”
“What happened to you calling me, Täubchen?”
“I figured you’d prefer me using your birth name.”
“You figured wrong. I don’t mind being your little dove since you’ve said you’re going to set me free and let me fly away in eight weeks.”
“You have my word. If those broken wings have healed and you still want to go at that time, I will let you.”
“Thank you. Now can you please tell me what crime you committed? What did you do that was awful enough to warrant a lifetime of regret?”
“You’re not ready to hear it, and I’m not ready to say. Besides, the time for chatting is over. You need to eat in order to regain your strength. I have some work to do, so I’ll send Alice up with your breakfast.”
WITH HER HAIR PINNED in that signature messy bun, Alice carefully places a tray full of crispy bacon, softly scrambled eggs, steaming grits and a stack of raisin toast slathered with butter across my lap. Despite the covering of my gown and a sheet, the heat from the food seeps through, and it feels so good against my skin.
As Alice bustles about the room, opening the curtains to the double doors leading out onto the balcony and tidying up things that are already tidy, I boldly ask, “What terrible deed did Tretan do all those years ago?”
She’s bent at the waist, fluffing a pillow on the settee, but my question stiffens her body. A sudden, sharp intake of breath instantly snaps her spine ramrod straight. “I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about, Miss.”
“I get the distinct feeling you know everything pertaining to your boss, and please call me Nora.”
“Okay, Nora,” she says, giving me the evil eye. “For some reason, Mr. Voss is determined to keep you around. I think it’s a bad idea, and I don’t like it one bit. The master of this lighthouse is a fine man. The last thing he needs is some nosey bitch sniffing about, stirring up sins from the past.”
Not letting her rudeness deter me, I say, “If you won’t tell me, I’m sure I can find what I need on the internet. All crimes are recorded somewhere.”
I watch closely as Alice’s eyes nervously flit about the room before landing on the antique writing desk.
When I was working late at the library one night, the custodian recommended a book titled Emotions Revealed. In it Paul Ekman demonstrates how simple expressions like shifting of eyes, pressing of lips or furrowing of the brow can tell us far more than actual words. For in our expressions lies the truth. We can hide what we know behind silence, but our face openly reveals the secrets we try so hard to keep buried.
When she turns toward me, a mask of haughtiness is fixed firmly in place. “Good luck in your search, Miss. Without a computer or wi-fi connection, you’ll not likely be Googling anything or anyone. I’ll be back for the tray later,” she says, glaring at me like I’m enemy Number One.
I’m ravenous and a little weak, so I decide to eat the delicious breakfast she’s made me before I take a closer look at the writing desk. From what I’ve read, the subconscious mind directs our eyes to the very thing we don’t want others to see. I am positive there is something hidden in the narrow, center drawer. It’s the only one with a lock. Once fortified with food, I’m going to find out exactly what secrets lie within.
Chapter Twelve
Tretan Voss
THIS PAST WEEK HAS passed by in a pleasant routine of me sharing the suppertime meal each evening with Nora. Of us talking about books we’ve both read and watching classic movies in between her doctor-advised naps. Rest is still the best medicine for an ailing body.
Other than raging workaholics Vadik and Falke, who are breaking the bikers’ balls daily and would go stark-raving mad without an occupation, I have given the rest of my men the next seven weeks off. Since none of them have taken a single day in five years, they have more than earned the time.
With zero search-and-seizure missions scheduled, I have been free to watch over Nora. I’m satisfied she is healing perfectly, and all her blood tests for STDs came back negative. I felt a little guilty for ordering them but, given the kind of men she was sexually assaulted by, I knew it was in her best interest. This strong sense of protectiveness I feel toward her is powerful. Although she is receiving stellar care from Dr. Ramhart, I still can’t shake the feeling she could be in imminent danger.
As much as I hate to admit it, my suspicions stem from Alice’s disturbing and uncharacteristic behavior of late. Her growing discontentment and hostile attitude toward my houseguest is practically tangible. Not wanting to alarm Nora with my concerns, I decide to speak with Fernando first. Although his IQ isn’t much bigger than my shoe size, he has always had a particularly keen insight into the human condition.
“So what do you think, buddy? Am I being paranoid?”
“No, Boss. You got a lot to worry about. Alice will probably poison your pet’s food or push her off the bedroom balcony or—”
“I get the picture. You believe Alice wants Nora gone,” I say, watching Sally bob her neon-green head, fluff her feathers and weave back and forth on her perch. “What’s wrong with that bird?”
“She’s feeling left out of the conversation,” Fernando says, blowing her a kiss.
“Seriously?”
“Sure. Sally has an opinion, too.”
“And what would that be?” I ask, cutting my eyes again toward the pesky parrot.
“Raawk! Alice took a trip down the rabbit hole. Raawk!”
“Is Sally trying to say my cook has gone crazy?”
“She didn’t try, Boss. She said it outright. Believe it or not, jealousy can make sane people go completely loco.”
“Oh, I believe it. I just don’t understand it. Nora isn’t any threat to Alice. She’ll always have a place here to live and work. ”
Fernando feeds Sally a sunflower seed. “She isn’t afraid of losing her room or her job. She’s afraid of losing you.”
Sally spits a hull at me and squawks, “Raawk! Alice is in love with you, numbnuts. Raawk!”
“I’m going to break that shiny, new beak if you don’t shut that shit up!” I snap, rubbing my hand over my face. If I’ve resorted to arguing with a bird, I’m likely losing my own mind.
“He didn’t mean it, Sally,” Fernando croons while I show myself out of the boathouse.
Walking across the asphalt drive to the pier, I can’t wrap my head around this revelation. I don’t want to believe a sweet simpleton and a sassy-mouthed parrot could be right. Why didn’t I see this for myself? I’ll tell you why. Because Alice is fifteen years older than me—forty-seven to my thirty-two.
Because when I discovered her crying on a park bench sixty miles east of here, she was an emotional mess—overwrought and destitute with grief over the death of her husband. I took her in, thinking by doing so I would be giving both of us what we needed most. She was all alone without any means of financial support. Offering her a job as my cook and housekeeper gave her money and purpose.
Given her age and warm, kind disposition, she became the mother-figure I was sorely lacking. I believed our arrangement was mutually beneficial for both of us. I had no idea she would fall in love with me. If she truly has romantic feelings for me, then my suspicions are valid. Jealousy has been a strong motive for murder for as long as humans have been in existence. I’m going to have a long talk with Alice. If I can’t reason with her, I’ll have to fire her. She can’t stay under my roof if she poses even the slightest threat to Nora. My beautiful, precious dove has endured too much pain already. I won’t have her subjected to anymore from anyone, including Alice.
WHEN I
WALK INTO the kitchen, I find Alice violently butchering vegetables on the chopping block. “Hey, what did that carrot ever do to you?” I ask, smiling.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there, Mr. Voss.”
Resting my hand on her forearm to still her, I say, “Can we sit at the table and talk for a minute?”
She shrugs out of my grasp and wipes her hands on a dishtowel. I pull out a chair and motion for her to join me.
“Is there something I can do for you, sir?”
“Yes. You can be honest with me about something.”
“What?” She looks at me as if I’ve asked her to kill the Pope.
“Do you dislike Nora?”
“Yes. She is too nosey for her own good. She will only bring trouble to you. And I won’t allow it.”
Leaning back from the table, I cross my legs at the ankles in an effort to appear relaxed and open when all I really feel is angry and anxious about Alice’s admission.
“Why do you think Nora will cause me problems?”
“She asked me to tell her things about you. About your past. About the crime you committed so long ago. She said if I wouldn’t say, she would find out some other way.”
I nod. “She’ll find out from me. I plan to tell her once I’ve gained her trust. She and I have spent a good bit of time together since Fernando brought her here, and I think I’ve made a lot of headway with her.”
“Yes, I know,” she snarls.
“You know what?”
“That you have slept in the chair beside your bed every night so you don’t disturb the precious princess.”
I don’t like the venomous tone of Alice’s voice. “Nora just had surgery. I’ve stayed close by in case she needed anything.”
“Liar! It’s not about what she needs. It’s what you need. If she hadn’t gotten appendicitis, you would have been in that bed with her, fucking her. I wish her stupid appendix had ruptured. I wish she had died!”
I straighten up, reach across the table and roughly clamp my hands around Alice’s wrists. “Why? What has my dove ever done to you?”
“That right there. She became your dove. Your love. It was supposed to be me. You were supposed to fall for me. I’ve cooked and cleaned for you for ten years. I’ve been your biggest cheerleader and confidante. How could you pick her over me?” she asks, hanging her head and crying.
I loosen my grip. “If Nora had never been brought here, I still wouldn’t have reciprocated your feelings, Alice. From day one, I’ve characterized our relationship as a platonic one, like mother and son. I had no idea you felt this way until Fernando and Sally said so.”
She pulls her hands away, rests them in her lap atop her flour-dusted apron and shakes her head. “Of course they noticed. Even a dumb clod and a prissy parrot could see my heart beating on my sleeve. But not you! No, sir! You have been far too busy wallowing in your own woes. At first, I found the tortured-soul song-and-dance to be endearing, sexy even. But now I realize you’re simply a self-absorbed prick without an ounce of depth,” she says, sniffling. “If you had any awareness outside of your own misery, you might have seen how brightly my love has shone for you this past decade.”
I’m stunned into silence. Before I can find my voice again, Alice jumps up from the table and angrily stomps over to the chopping block. When she turns back toward me, she is holding a razor-sharp knife to her throat.
I kick the chair across the room in my mad dash to get to her. “No!” I scream, seeing the first trickle of blood run down her throat.
She freezes and says, “You have to choose between me and her right now, Tretan.”
The sound of my first name on her bitter, toxic lips makes me feel sick. “You’re crazy.”
“Like a fox. You see, this is the knife you used this morning to slice a piece of raisin toast before I took Nora’s breakfast tray to her. If I slit my throat with it, the authorities will nail you to the wall for my murder.”
I shake my head in disbelief and take a step closer to her. She presses the blade harder against her jugular vein, making me stop in my tracks. If I could get close enough, I could overpower her.
“Why are you doing this to me, Alice? I took you in when you had no money and nowhere to go. You had been sleeping on that park bench for a month when I found you. Is this how you show your gratitude? By setting me up to take the fall for your self-imposed death?”
“I’m not doing this to you. I’m doing it to Nora.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t.”
Appearing in the doorway across from the spiral staircase, Nora says, “No, but I do. You see, Tretan, since this sick witch can’t have you herself, she wants to make sure you go to jail so that I can’t have you either.”
Alice nods menacingly.
Keeping my eyes riveted to the knife should Alice decide to use it on my little dove, I say, “You aren’t supposed to be walking up and down stairs for another day or two, Täubchen,” I say, trying to ease some of the tension in the room.
Following my lead, she says, “Yeah, well, you aren’t supposed to be playing the knife version of Russian roulette with this lunatic right now. You and I had plans to watch a movie. Remember?”
Before I can answer, Alice scoffs, “It’s so typical of you to make everything about yourself, Nora.”
“You’ve got it wrong. All of my life I have put everyone and everything above my own wants and needs. But I won’t do it this time.”
“What the fuck does that mean, fatso?”
“It means, I’m not going to let you ruin my or Tretan’s life, psycho.”
Knowing the escalation of emotions is only going to lead to violence, I calmly say, “Nora, please go to the boathouse and stay with Fernando while I finish talking to Alice.”
“I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Nora’s refusal to obey my request pulls my attention away from Alice for the few seconds she needs to lower the knife and plunge it into my side. Cursing my colossal fuck-up, I clutch my bloody wound, doubling over and hitting my knees in paralyzing pain.
Alice’s screams sound like an Indian war cry in the midst of battle as she grabs a skewer from the counter. With her arm raised and the sharp, glinting point poised to puncture, she charges my little dove. Before the murderous cook can make fatal contact, Fernando flings open the front door to the kitchen. In a flurry of high-pitched squawks and flying feathers, Sally attacks Alice’s messy bun, pecking at her head and face, causing the cook to drop her culinary weapon in an effort to defend herself.
Reaching into my pants pocket for my phone, I call Vadik. Luckily, he is nearby. Upon his arrival, he swiftly removes Alice from the kitchen to drive her to a destination I have commanded.
Fernando helps me to my feet, and I make my way to Nora’s side. Pulling her into my arms, I groan, “God, Täubchen, I would have died if anything had happened to you.”
She leans her head against my chest and places her hand over mine. The blood is still seeping through my fingers and onto hers as she says, “Looks like Dr. Ramhart is going to have two patients in his care now.”
Fernando holds out his arm for Sally to land on. “I’ll go get the doc now and bring him back here.”
I nod. “Thanks, buddy. You’re a life saver.”
The parrot ruffles her feathers. “Raawk! The hell you say! Sally saved the day. Raawk!”
Chapter Thirteen
Nora Adams
IT’S BEEN THREE WEEKS since my appendectomy and two weeks since Tretan was stabbed. Both of us have had our stitches removed, been released by Dr. Ramhart and are finally feeling completely healthy again.
Right now we are all cuddled up in his big, British Colonial bed, eating takeout pizza and drinking cold Pepsi. He hasn’t had the time to hire a new cook and, although I have offered to prepare our meals, he insisted I save my energy for other things, especially for the surprise he has in store for me today.
Flipping back the creamy, pl
ush comforter, he asks, “Did you get full?”
“As I tick,” I say, grinning. “I can’t wait to see my surprise. Where is it?”
He extends his hand like a proper gentlemen. “Come with me, Täubchen.”
During these weeks of convalescing, he has shown me his sweet and nurturing side, effectively melting my heart. Although his sexual desire for me burns in his eyes and is evident in the strain of his muscles and the power of his almost constant erection, he has shown great restraint by curtailing his caresses and keeping his kisses from me.
After Alice stabbed him, he could no longer sleep in the chair he had been occupying since my surgery. He needed to lie back flat on the mattress. Even though I knew he was injured and would most likely stay on his side of the bed, the old fears of being used like a filthy fuck doll kept me on edge. The bikers really did a number on my head.
Sensing my unease, Tretan had said, “You have to learn to trust me, little dove. I won’t attempt to make love to you until you want me to. Until you can come to me in the undeniable knowledge that no one is more important to me than you are.”
With his sincere words, valiant actions and gallant behavior these past few weeks, he has done what I never thought possible. He has made me his for the trusting.
Now the feel of his fingers laced with mine sends a welcome warmth spreading through my entire body. As we walk out of the bedroom and down a narrow hallway, Tretan is pressed to my side from hip to shoulder. His close proximity assails all of my senses, filling my mind with fantasies of him touching me. Him naked on top of me. Him buried balls-deep inside me.
A smile lifts the corners of my mouth while the heat of sexual energy flushes my face. When I first arrived at the lighthouse, I never believed I would ever feel normal, healthy, adult wants and needs again. But here I am, longing to be this man’s lover.
When we come to a stop in front of a heavy, black, medieval-looking door, our gazes clash. It’s only a second, a single heartbeat in time. But in that moment, he has me entangled in a web of intense emotions I can’t ignore. It’s then I realize I truly no longer want to escape. I now wish to be Tretan’s companion and life partner. I’ve yet to learn what his business is, but whatever it is, I want to help him with it. To stay at this dreamy, romantic lighthouse by the ocean. To live here forever with this man who has drawn me like no other.