29. “River” - Joni Mitchell
“River” - Joni Mitchell
It’s been a day and a half since we took Tundra in, and I just got off the phone with the vet. They said he’s fighting like a champ, and as soon as they can figure out what’s wrong, they can get him the right medication. Until then, they’re doing everything they can.
I’ve never felt so frustrated before. My hands are tied—there’s literally nothing I can do, and it’s killing me.
Henry finds me on the terrace, facing the city. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”
I shrug. I didn’t even notice.
“God, Celia. You’re going to end up killing yourself before anyone else can.” He slips through the sliding doors again and comes back a few minutes later with an armload of blankets and a mug of tea. He hands me the cup, then wraps the blankets around me, tucking the ends under my legs.
“Thanks,” I murmur, taking a sip of the hot liquid.
He continues moving around the terrace. After a few minutes, I realize he’s starting a fire in the portable fire pit. He scoots it closer to the sofa I’m sitting on. The blaze is warm, and the heat seeps into my bones.
The terrace is huge and stretches the whole length of the penthouse, wrapping around the side of the master bedroom as well.
The farthest end has a pool and hot tub, but it’s been too cold during my stay to use either.
There are cozy groupings of outdoor furniture scattered across the rest of the space.
It’s the one spot in the entire flat where memories of Tundra can’t haunt me.
Henry sits down next to me on the white sofa. “We need to talk about what happened.”
“I’m not ready.”
“It’s important.”
“I said I don’t want to.” I pull my legs under me a little tighter.
“I got the lab results back on the chocolate.”
I swing my gaze to Henry for the first time. “What did they find?”
“As we suspected, he didn’t ingest enough chocolate to have that kind of effect on a dog Tundra’s size. Something was added to the truffles.”
“You think your father tried to poison me?”
Henry doesn’t say anything, just stares at the smooth cement floor, his arms resting on his knees. He hands me a sheaf of stapled papers, and my vision blurs as I stare at the words. I hand it back. “I don’t know what any of this means.”
“There were high amounts of thallium in those truffles.”
“Thallium,” I repeat.
“It’s a tasteless chemical that—”
“I know what it is.” I watch a pair of birds swoop across the bright sky like a set of dancers at the ballet. “And you think William was trying to kill me with truffles.” It sounds like the plot of one of those cozy mysteries Henry’s mum likes to read.
There’s a lengthy pause, long enough to answer my question. “There is no way that much thallium could have gotten in there accidentally,” Henry says.
“Why would William want me dead? He’s the one who gave Tundra to me.” Just saying his name out loud causes moisture to leak from the corners of my eyes. I miss him more than I thought possible.
“Trust me, it’ll be a reason only he understands. The man’s a psychopath.”
“So this means Maisie is innocent, right?” My voice is the size of a mouse.
“She’s already been released.”
I shake my head, and hair falls into my face. I don’t bother pushing it back. “So then why was I sick?”
“We’re still working on getting to the bottom of that. It would be good if we could run a blood panel. I know you were nauseous, but did you have any other symptoms that might have been from the thallium?”
I lean forward and rest my face in my palms while Henry strokes my back through my blanket cocoon. My eyelids are gummy and swollen. I used to pride myself on being a good judge of character, but my track record of late has been anything but stellar.
“Insomnia,” I say, trying to remember the past few weeks, but all I can see is Tundra lying on that table. “I remember my feet hurting some.”
William tried to kill me. He almost killed Tundra.
I try to let that sink in, but it just sits on the surface of my skin like oil.
He pretended to want my help reconciling with Henry, gave me a bloody dog, even talked his way into my safe house.
Henry was right all along—I shouldn’t have trusted him.
I trusted the wrong guy, and my dog nearly died because of it.
“We need to leave.” Henry’s voice is soft, as though he’s afraid of breaking my fragile shell.
“And go where?”
“Somewhere he can’t find you.”
I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my sweater. “I’m not going back to that cabin.”
He shakes his head. “I meant out of the country.”
“I’m not leaving Tundra.” Henry’s a fool if he thinks I’ll consider that for a single second.
“There’s nothing you can do for him here,” he says, his eyes on me. “The vet has the lab results, and now that they know it’s thallium in his system, they can administer the proper medications. He’s going to recover, C.”
I pick at the threads of the blanket in my lap. “I can’t leave him.”
Henry sighs. “If you don’t, you might not be alive to greet him when he gets out of the hospital.”
“You actually want me to leave the country? For how long?” My voice is following my panic higher and higher.
“Just until we can catch him.”
“How long will that take?”
He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, C. Hopefully not long.”
I watch the city below us through a haze of tears.
I can’t see them, but I can imagine everyone bustling in and out of the shops, buying last minute Christmas gifts and bottles of wine for their holiday parties.
I can almost hear the music jingling from the speakers and smell the gingerbread wafting from the bakeries.
There’s probably a Santa Claus on every street corner wishing everyone a happy holiday.
“I can’t leave,” I say. “Not now.”
“C, he knows where you are. He’s already breached the security once.”
Henry doesn’t mention that I also let him inside.
“My image is in shambles, Henry. If I leave Wesbourne now, I will lose all credibility as queen.”
He pulls my hand between both his own, allowing his warmth to slowly leak into it. “I know. But at least you wouldn’t be losing your life.”
I feel the magnetic pull of his gaze. “And you can promise that?”
His fingers tighten around mine, and he’s silent for a minute. Finally, he says, “I promise that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”
My heart lurches at the look in his eyes. “I’ll think about it,” I say quietly.
I expect him to tell me I don’t have a choice, that my security is in his hands, not my own, but he doesn’t. He simply stands, gives me a sad smile, and says, “Don’t stay out long. You’ll get too cold.” He goes back into the penthouse, closing the glass doors behind him.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be warm again.
Bea joins me an hour later, wearing a long down-filled coat and a pom-pom beanie. She nestles in beside me on the sofa, stealing some of my blankets to cover her legs.
“Did Henry send you?” I say.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re outside, and it’s not bathing suit weather.”
She came to the penthouse after hearing about Tundra, although I’ve done my best to avoid her, and everyone else, since.
Sniffing, she takes a drink from the cup in her hands. My own tea is long gone. “Fine. He may have mentioned that you were still out here and that he was concerned.”
“Figures.”
“He’s trying to protect you, you know.”
Behind her, the Christmas tree is lit up in the window, the sky already darkening around us. I imagine throwing it over the edge of the terrace railing. I study Bea for a few seconds before returning my gaze to the fire.
“I heard him playing the piano last night at 2 a.m.,” she says.
“What’s your point, Bea?”
“Just that you might find comfort in finally trusting someone else.”
A dangerous fantasy to allow myself. “I’m fine.”
“Your lips are blue.”
“I deserve to suffer, and to do it alone.”
She rests a mitten-clad hand on my leg. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”
“Why not?” I say. “It’s my fault.”
“Of course it’s not. You couldn’t have known the duke would do something like that.”
I hold my feet up to catch more heat from the blaze. “Except that Henry warned me to stay far away from his father, and instead of listening to him, I let the man inside.” If Tundra doesn’t make it, I’ll never forgive myself.
Bea sighs and holds her hands out over the flames. “And you’re planning to punish yourself by staying where he can get to you.”
I open my mouth to speak but close it again. I twist the blanket through my fingers, knotting and bunching it up.
“You’d seriously do that to us?” she says.
I look at her. Her mouth is set in a firm line.
“I know you don’t want to believe this right now,” she continues, “but there are a lot of people who care about you. This country needs you. The people miss you, but they also want you to be safe.” She brushes a few loose curls out of her face.
“Besides, if you die, I’d become queen—and trust me, that’s a disaster no one is prepared for. ”
I finally find my voice again, even though it’s hardly more than a whisper. “Tundra nearly died because I didn’t want to risk trusting Henry.” It’s one thing to gamble with my own life. But now I’ll always have to live with the reminder that what happened was my fault.
“Better late than never,” Bea says.
“I don’t deserve to have him watching out for me.”
Her laugh tinkles through the air like bells. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but that hasn’t stopped him yet.”
“What if he hurts me again?” I study my blanket-covered lap, wishing the answers lay somewhere in the folds.
From the corner of my eye, I see her nod. “He probably will, because that’s what people do. But will it hurt any less to push him away?”
I consider her words. If I walk away from Henry now, something tells me it will be for the last time. I’m being handed my third chance, and if I refuse it, it’s over for us. “Maybe you’re right,” I say.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Bea smiles. “I’m always right.”
Henry is pacing outside the kitchen when Bea and I get inside. The air is so warm I nearly choke on it. He looks up, apprehension evident in every feature.
“Finally,” he says as we walk through the great room.
Bea tugs the hat from her head and tosses her blonde curls. “Mission accomplished.” She throws him a wink, then heads for her bedroom.
Henry looks at me, his eyes searching my face for answers. “Is she right?”
I dump my load of blankets onto the sofa and step closer to him. My hands are trembling. I don’t know if it’s from the sudden change in temperature or from the adrenaline pumping through my bloodstream.
Stopping right in front of him, I look up to meet his gaze and place both hands on his chest. His heart is beating as hard as mine is. I lick my lips. “I’m ready.”