The Spring at Moss Hill

by Carla Neggers

  “Olivia should be back soon with Buster. He’s a great dog, but I always keep in mind this is Buster’s turf.”

  “I’ll take a walk down the road and then head up to the barn.”

  “Great.” Maggie gave Russ a cheerful frown. “Why do I have the feeling we weren’t just having a friendly chat?”

  “We were.”

  “But you’re an investigator. You know how to get people to talk.”

  He winked at her. “I look forward to the soup and bread.”

  He headed outside, noticing dozens of daffodils blooming on the border on the Quabbin side of the yard. He could hear birds twittering in the trees, but he had no idea what kind of birds. Little ones. Best he could do.

  He stood on the front walk and looked up the road, toward the new house and barn the McCaffreys were building, now almost finished. Then he looked down the road, where Olivia McCaffrey was walking the infamous Buster and, presumably, pretty, secretive Kylie Shaw, aka Morwenna Mills, was on her bike.

  Russ went that way.

  * * *

  Bike tire tracks and the prints of a large dog in the dirt on the side of the old, narrow road compelled Russ to continue around a curve. The pavement looked as if it had taken a beating over the winter, but many of the potholes, ruts and cracks probably weren’t new. On either side of the road were trees and more trees, and a stream, no doubt working its way into the reservoir.

  He’d walked about two hundred yards without seeing a soul.

  What a place, he thought.

  Two steps later, he heard a cough and paused.

  Nope.

  Not a cough. Someone was vomiting. The sounds were distinct and unmistakable.

  He picked up his pace, rounding the curve in time to see Kylie holding the waist of another woman as she pitched her cookies into sprouting ferns on the side of the road.

  “Do you need an ambulance?” Kylie asked.

  The woman—she had to be Olivia Frost McCaffrey—waved a hand no.

  Then she went down onto her knees, hurling the rest of her guts out.

  Russ eased in next to Kylie. “Anything I can do?”

  She fixed her light blue eyes on him. “This is Olivia McCaffrey. I came upon her a few minutes ago. We were talking, and all of a sudden she got sick to her stomach.”

  “Buster,” Olivia said between wretches. “He got loose. He still has his leash on...”

  “Buster is her dog,” Kylie said.

  Russ nodded. “We’ll find him, Olivia, but let’s see about you first.”

  She sank onto her butt in the dirt on the side of the road. “Oh, man. That was bad. I might never eat Maggie’s blueberry muffins again.” She smiled wanly up at Kylie. “Thank you.”

  “I can get Dylan,” Kylie said.

  “No, it’s okay. I’m fine. It’s just...” Olivia wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “I guess all first-timers hope they don’t get morning sickness. I was hoping to be one of those women who sails right past that phase, but obviously I’m not.”

  “Morning— Oh!” Kylie clapped her hands together. “You’re expecting. That’s wonderful, Olivia. Congratulations.”

  Russ was half wishing he’d gone the other direction and was now talking construction with Dylan and the Sloans. He had zero experience with morning sickness. Puking for a whole host of other reasons, yes. Viruses, food poisoning and hangovers he could handle without skipping a beat.

  “I just need a minute,” Olivia said, looking as if she needed more than that.

  Kylie crouched next to her. “I’ll stay with you and walk with you back to the house.”

  “Thanks.” Olivia peered up at Russ. Kylie quickly introduced him. Olivia smiled, still green and pale. “Julius’s colleague. Sorry about this, Russ.”

  “No problem. Take your time.”

  She shifted back to Kylie. “I’m sorry we haven’t had you over yet. You’re all alone in Knights Bridge.”

  “The beauty and curse of being a freelance illustrator,” Kylie said, obviously awkward at the shift in subject to herself. “I have friends and family not too far. I never lack for company. Now, did you see which way Buster took off?”

  Olivia pointed down the road, toward the Quabbin gate. “That way. I’m afraid his leash will get caught on something and cause a ruckus. He’s big, and he thinks he owns the road, but he won’t bite your arm off or anything like that.”

  Russ saw it was up to him to fetch Buster. “You okay here?” he asked Kylie.

  She nodded. Olivia tucked her knees up. “I just need another minute. Then we’ll head back to the house.”

  That settled, Russ continued down the quiet road, alternately calling for Buster and listening for a bark, whine, sniffle, cough—anything that would clue him into the dog’s location and whether he was in trouble. The best-case scenario, Buster had found his way back to the house and was now asleep under the kitchen table.

  Russ paused at the yellow metal Quabbin gate, off the turnaround at the end of the road. He heard something panting in the woods on the right-hand side of the road, opposite the gate. Whatever it was, it was bigger than a squirrel. He ducked past an evergreen, discovering a big dog—what looked to be a mix of black Lab and German shepherd—lapping from the stream. He’d managed to catch his leash both on undergrowth and between two rocks.

  Russ stepped on the leash, then picked it up. “Hello, Buster,” he said.

  Buster looked up at him, licked his chops and tried to bolt.

  Tightening up on the leash, Russ reassured the big dog while at the same time letting him know who was in charge. “I’m the alpha dog here, pal.”

  Buster seemed good with that.

  They returned to the road. Buster was muddy but otherwise didn’t appear any worse for the wear for his jaunt. When he spotted Olivia, he tried to race to her, but Russ didn’t think she needed a big, slobbering dog jumping on her.

  She smiled when she saw Buster, though, and greeted him cheerfully, her color marginally better. She looked up at Russ. “Thank you,” she said, giving him a wan smile.

  “No problem. You’re doing okay? It’s a good walk to your house.” He liked to get moving after barfing, but he knew nothing about morning sickness and what Olivia would want to do. “I can get my car.”

  She shook her head. “I can manage. It’ll feel good to walk.” She let Kylie help her to her feet. “You can finish your bike ride, Kylie. I’m fine now. Really.”

  “I’ll walk to the house with you and then come back for my bike,” Kylie said. “I don’t mind. It’s a beautiful day to be outside.”

  “If I won’t be keeping you from anything...”

  “You won’t.”

  Olivia didn’t argue further. Russ kept charge of a reasonably compliant Buster as they all walked up the road to Olivia’s antique center-chimney house. She wasn’t too wobbly, and when they reached her front walk, she invited Russ and Kylie inside. Before they could respond, Maggie rushed outside, clearly needing no explanation when she saw her friend. “I know that green look. Come on, Olivia. I’ll make you some tea and let you get your feet under you.”

  “I’ll clean up Buster,” Russ said. “Is there a preferred spot to do it?”

  Maggie nodded. “There’s a mudroom. You can take him in through the back door, although he’s plowed through the kitchen with muddy paws enough times.”

  Back door it was. He tugged on Buster’s leash and started across the front yard but stopped when Olivia turned to him. “Thank you for your help,” she said.

  “No problem.”

  “I’m sure dog catching isn’t in your job description.” She shifted to Kylie. “I can’t thank you enough. I went from faintly queasy to all-out nausea so suddenly...”

  “All’s well that ends
well,” Kylie said with a smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  The two Knights Bridge women disappeared into the house. Buster plopped down onto Russ’s foot as Kylie gestured with one hand toward the dead-end road. “I’ll get my bike and head home. Good you came along when you did.” She started down the stone walk. “See you at Moss Hill.”

  Russ watched her, trying to guess if she knew he’d seen Sherlock Badger. Maybe, maybe not. She was accustomed to hiding her true feelings, wasn’t she? But keeping Morwenna Mills to herself also must have honed her skills at detecting trouble, avoiding risky situations and staying on alert. She had to know, at the least, that he wasn’t satisfied with her story about herself and her reasons for being at Carriage Hill—or, for that matter, in Knights Bridge.

  But not satisfied wasn’t the same as suspicious, and he didn’t want to screw up this place for her. It might have started out as a refuge, an artist’s retreat, but he had a feeling it had turned into home.

  Not that he knew what home meant, or felt like. He’d lived most of his life on the move.

  All his life. Even before he’d moved to Hollywood, his apartment in San Diego had been temporary, an arrangement he’d made with a couple of navy buddies at sea.

  He tugged the leash, half expecting Buster to try to drag him back down the road, but the big dog had obviously had his fill of adventures for the time being. They walked around to the back of the house, through a garden of raised beds filled with herbs popping up now that it was spring. It bordered a field marked by an old stone wall, probably constructed by farmers clearing the land long before Quabbin Reservoir.

  Russ took Buster onto a stone terrace and into the mudroom.

  First, see to Buster’s muddy paws.

  Then figure out what Kylie had been up to on her bike ride out here.

  Thirteen

  Russ definitely knew about Morwenna. No question in Kylie’s mind. It hadn’t been any one thing—a particular look or comment—but she’d detected a change in him. Even the surprise of finding her with a pregnant, vomiting Olivia McCaffrey didn’t explain his subtle but unmistakable change in attitude.

  Kylie tried to focus on riding her bike up the road from the spot where she’d come upon Olivia, but her head was spinning with a hundred thoughts, sensations and worries. Before setting out that morning, she’d talked herself into thinking Russ hadn’t spotted Sherlock Badger after all and didn’t know about Morwenna, but such was not the case.

  “Oh, yes,” she said aloud as she dodged a pothole. “He knows.”

  Russ’s car was still parked in front of the 1803 house, but she didn’t see anyone outside and continued on up the road. She’d ventured out this way first thing that morning, drawn by the bright, clear spring day and the need to burn off her restless energy. She’d relished jumping on her bike. She’d had a rough night, given her worries about Morwenna and her reaction to Russ’s quick, unexpected kiss and all it promised.

  At least she’d arrived at the right time to help Olivia, who could easily have stumbled or passed out, as violently ill as she’d been.

  Kylie reminded herself she had nothing to hide, really. It wasn’t as if working under a pseudonym and keeping it to herself were a crime. She wasn’t deceiving anyone so much as just not talking about her work as an illustrator and now also an author of children’s books.

  Should she beg Russ for his silence? Let him blab to whomever he wanted? Daphne. His colleagues in Beverly Hills. The O’Dunn twins. Mark Flanagan. The Sloans. The McCaffreys.

  One had to work at it to keep a secret around here, Kylie thought, trying to smile. But she felt awkward and unsettled, if not guilty.

  When she came to the McCaffreys’ new house and barn, Russ was standing at the end of the driveway, as if he were waiting for her. She debated pedaling past him with a quick, friendly wave, but instead she stopped, easing off her bike. “Olivia’s doing better?” she asked.

  “She’s resting,” he said. “Buster’s cleaned up and asleep in the mudroom.”

  “A little drama for the morning.”

  His gaze was steady on her. “Did it blow your plans?”

  “Not at all.”

  “What were you doing out here?”

  “Olivia’s house is inspiration for the grandmother’s house in my rendition of Little Red Riding Hood. The Quabbin woods are fodder, too.” She resisted going into more detail since she was working on her series of fairy tales as Morwenna. “Buster is helping me reimagine the wolf.”

  “He’s all bark and no bite. Little Red Riding Hood’s wolf eats her grandmother.”

  “Yes, well, there’s that. There are more innocuous versions of the story. Anyway, that’s what I was up to.”

  “You’re out here doing research,” Russ said.

  “You could call it that.” She didn’t explain further, never mind the trace of skepticism she heard in his voice. “I should get going. I have a few things I need to do. I didn’t expect the situation with Olivia, obviously.”

  “Friends and wives of friends of mine have had morning sickness. Doesn’t look fun.”

  “No.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me? You mean have I—” Kylie stopped herself and took a breath before she continued. “Friends and wives of friends of mine, you mean. It’s come up in conversation. No direct experience until this morning.”

  “No one’s ever thrown up on your shoes?”

  “Not human.”

  “Now there’s a provocative answer.”

  “I grew up around animals,” she said.

  “Your father’s a veterinarian and your mother is a dog groomer and trainer.” Russ shifted his stance, his eyes never leaving her. “I read that on your Kylie Shaw website.”

  As opposed to her Morwenna Mills website? Kylie pushed that thought out of her mind. “Good upbringing for an illustrator. I’ll leave you to enjoy your day.”

  “Dylan McCaffrey is giving me the grand tour of this place. I told him we could reschedule, but when he stopped in to check on Olivia, she and Maggie were having tea and toast and talking morning sickness.” Russ smiled. “Tour’s back on. You’re invited.”

  Kylie hesitated. She could confront him about what he knew about Morwenna, or tell him herself, pretending she had no idea he’d figured it out, but she didn’t want to. It wasn’t the time or the place for such a revelation, but she was being stubborn, too. He was being intrusive—and he knew it. Morwenna was irrelevant to any concerns he had about Moss Hill or Knights Bridge ahead of Saturday.

  Maybe they both were playing games, but so be it.

  She noticed she had mud on her right hip but, with his gaze lingering on her, decided not to brush it off. “You must be bored,” she said. “A little town like Knights Bridge doesn’t offer the excitement of Los Angeles. You can see the night sky here. That’s one thing. With Quabbin so close, there isn’t much ambient light. People come out here to see the stars—a different kind of star from what you’re used to.”

  Russ shrugged. “I’ll go along with that.”

  Kylie held tight on to her bike. “You’re not used to small-town life.”

  “You don’t know what I’m used to, do you?”

  “Not for a fact, no. You’ve got me there.” She kept her tone light, ignoring a rush of heat at his quiet, deep voice, his steady blue eyes. “But I’m not wrong, am I?”

  “I’ve discovered that most people don’t fit in tidy boxes.”

  She tried not to read into his words. “What about your clients?”

  “All kinds.”

  “I’ve seen the effects of success and the need for success on people in my profession. The pressures of a Hollywood career must be intense. Daphne Stewart works behind the scenes, but it’s still Hollywood.”

 
“She’s grounded in her own Daphne way,” Russ said, no let up in his intensity. “How do you stay grounded?”

  “I finish the project I’m working on, and then I start the next one.”

  “That easy, is it?”

  “Most days.”

  Kylie eased her grip on her bike. Russ would notice how tense she was. He was a man who noticed everything. He was self-confident, knowing, sexy—and well aware of his impact on her, never mind their dance around the subject of her work and success. He was clearly suspicious of her reasons for being out here. It wasn’t as if he was subtle about his suspicion, either. Had to be a hard way to live, she thought, always wondering if people had ulterior motives for what they did. But it was his job, too. He wasn’t here on vacation. He was working.

  “Dylan wants to meet you and thank you himself for helping Olivia,” Russ said. “Come on. Why don’t you join me on the tour of the place?”

  “I did what anyone would do. Dylan doesn’t have to thank me.”

  “Sometimes it feels good for people to express their gratitude. First pregnancy. He’s not used to this any more than Olivia is.”

  Kylie was tempted. Just from the outside, never mind the inside, the new barn and house were gorgeous, designed to blend into the landscape. She knew some of the background of the property. Dylan had inherited it, unknowingly, from his father, a businessman-turned-treasure-hunter. Dylan, with Olivia’s help, had put the pieces together. His father had discovered that the young woman who’d placed him in adoption as an infant was Grace Webster, a former Knights Bridge English and Latin teacher now in her nineties. She’d moved into assisted living and had put her house up for sale. She’d moved into the house with her father and grandmother after they’d been evicted from one of the lost Quabbin towns. Duncan had met his birth mother and bought her old house, but he died in a fall in Portugal before he could explain his interest in Knights Bridge to his only son.

  Kylie had yet to meet Grace Webster and had only met Dylan a few times, casually, in town and while out riding her bike.