Chapter 8
CHAPTER
Elsa stole down the corridor and followed the mangy mutt right out the back door, which apparently hadn’t been latched shut. Taking only an instant to secure the door behind her, she dashed after Barney into the courtyard, wondering what kind of game this was.
Could it be fetch? When Luke had thrown a ball, Barney had brought it right back to him. But the dog gave no indication that’s what he had in mind today.
The sky lowered and rumbled. Clouds churned as they sailed east, and Elsa wondered if the storm would pass them by. Barney stopped and turned to face her, ears pricked straight up, tail wagging. Bright blue tail feathers speared from one side of his mouth.
Elsa halted, afraid that if she took a step, he’d run again.
Why, oh why, hadn’t she secured the bird so this wouldn’t happen?
It was likely the crown jewel of the entire Hudson Collection, and here it was at the mercy of a dog.
“Good boy, Barney. Come here.” If she lost the bird, or if it were destroyed under her watch, she’d never forgive herself, and neither would the museum.
His tail wagged harder, but he didn’t come.
“Fine, then. Stay there. Stay.” She held out her hands, palms out.
The dog dropped to his elbows in front, his rump still high in the air. He was taunting her.
The nerve.
With her next step, he charged off as though his tail were on fire.
Gritting her teeth, she followed suit, running as long as she could before slowing to a fast walk.
Barney circled around again and again, remaining out of reach, but leading her on, past an orchard that smelled faintly of ripe apples.
Wind whipped her skirt sideways, and rain fell at last in great, fat drops. She rested her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. If she had any left to work with, she’d scold the dog. But the ache in her leg had spread fire straight up to her hip, and it jumped into her lungs.
Elsa stumbled toward a tree and leaned against it with one hand, the rough bark cutting into her palm. Putting her weight on her good leg and the tree, she pressed at the place in her chest that burned. She pulled air in, pushed it out. But the space inside her only screwed tighter, tighter.
She had to recover the macaw.
But the edges of her vision darkened, either from the storm or the lack of oxygen to her brain. Barney had disappeared, and so had all the trees except the one holding her up. All she saw was the water streaming from the ends of her hair.
Minutes passed, or maybe just seconds. Time warped to the rhythm of her respirations.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Ignore the pain and breathe.
“Elsa!” As though out of nowhere, Luke was there. The scars on his cheek and jaw shone darker against his pale face. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head.
His brow furrowed as he looked her over. “Injured?”
Another shake of her head would have to do, as she didn’t have the air to explain it to him.
Resolve sparked in his steel grey eyes. “Put this on.” He pulled off the yellow slicker he wore and helped her thread her arms into it.
She had only fastened two of the toggle buttons when, without so much as a by your leave, he scooped her up with one arm supporting her back and another beneath her knees.
“There’s a pool building beyond the trees. It’ll do for shelter.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he carried her. Barney trotted at Luke’s heels, looking worried, but with no bird in his mouth.
“The macaw,” she breathed.
Luke’s quiet laugh reverberated into her body. “The bird is fine. Barney brought it to me. It’s safe and secure, waiting for you back at the house. I knew right away you would have run after it. Next time—if there is a next time—come to me, okay? I’ll get it back for you.”
“You were with Tom,” she whispered between breaths. “That was more important.”
He looked at her, his nose nearly touching hers. Then he jerked his gaze straight ahead again and climbed the stairs to what appeared to be a Roman bathhouse. He carried her between two pillars and through the glass door.
A glass roof over a pool allowed in natural light—what little there was of it, at any rate. With a few panes missing overhead, it also allowed in the elements. Showers sprayed into the drained pool, which still held a few inches of collected rain from previous storms. The place smelled of mold.
With care, Luke lowered her into a lounge chair beside the pool.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
Barney loped to her and laid his head on her lap and looked up at her.
“He says he’s sorry,” Luke told her.
“I know.” Unable to resist the animal’s human-like expression of guilt, she scratched behind his wet ears. “I speak dog.”
He grinned. “I’ll be right back.”
When he returned from his jaunt into the men’s dressing room, it was with a bundle of towels in his arms. “Here. Dry off the best you can. I won’t have you catching a cold on my watch.”
Since when was she on his watch at all? She sent him a quizzical look, and he took a knee before her.
“The way I see it, this is my responsibility,” he said.
“It was my dog that made off with your bird, wasn’t it?
And if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have run after him, wouldn’t have reached right past your limits and gotten stuck in the rain.
Now, you said you’ve had polio. What I know for sure is that weak lungs and chest muscles make it harder to cough, which means fluid and mucus can build up in your lungs, so pneumonia could set in. I won’t have that.”
He was exactly right, though how he knew remained a mystery she’d have to leave untouched for now, given that she still fought for breath.
Gratefully, she accepted the linens, removed the slicker, and did her best to towel-dry her clothes.
When she offered his raincoat back to him, he insisted she wear it again, which she did.
With one more towel, she squeezed rain from her hair, then dried her spectacles and replaced them.
Torrents drummed the roof and splashed inside. “I need a minute.” Elsa leaned back in the lounge chair, willing her body to reset to normal—or at least, what was normal for her.
“We aren’t going anywhere till the rain stops,” he said. “Take your time. Take it easy. Just breathe. Easy for me to say, right?”
She smiled at him, then squinted beyond his shoulder. On a ledge near the roof, several swallows perched, waiting out the storm with them.
Luke scrubbed his hair with a towel, then combed through it with his fingers. He pulled a piece down to cover a scar.
“You don’t have to do that,” she told him.
“Habit. I don’t like to make people uncomfortable. This is the only one I can hide. I tried growing a beard, but the hair doesn’t grow through scar tissue, so that only made these scars stand out more.” He looked away, and the marked side of his profile disappeared.
“You don’t make me uncomfortable. And please don’t hide your face. I like it.” How awkward could she get? She felt a blush heat her cheeks, and she was grateful for the shadows that muted what must be a bright pink color.
Luke met her gaze again, then dropped it to Barney and stroked his fur. “That’s nice of you to say. I confess that being around you feels a little like Beauty and the beast.”
That didn’t make sense. Few people who knew her limitations had ever called her beautiful.
Part of her wanted to crack wise and pretend he’d called her the beast, implying that he was the beauty—which he was.
Handsome. The scars did nothing to diminish that.
But all she could say was “applesauce,” then commenced blushing again.
“Did you meet Wesley and Jane?” she asked.
“Yesterday,” he answered. “Briefly. There wasn’t much to say.”
She nodded her understanding. Several long moments passed in quiet, aside from the rain pounding the roof and into the pool.
Dried leaves floated in the water collected in the deep end.
She rested her hand on Barney’s back and understood the comfort Tom drew from the dog’s presence.
He smelled, he was wet and muddy, and he was a rascal—but underneath it all, Barney made a loyal companion.
“I think it’s wonderful that you and Tom are so close, given your family backgrounds,” she said, eager to change the subject. “My family had servants, too, and I didn’t befriend any of their children. I wish I had. I was too much a coward to try.”
“How do you mean?” The side of Luke’s hand brushed hers as he petted the old dog, too.
“I overhead something that was never meant for my ears.” She took a deep breath, resolving to make the story a short one, no matter the size it took in her memory.
“I was almost seven years old and had been playing hide-and-seek with my cousin Lauren. She had just turned fourteen and had come to Manhattan for Christmas break. I went to the kitchen and folded myself into a cabinet. Then the cook and her daughter, Hannah, who was my age, came in.”
When Elsa paused in the telling, Luke urged her to take it slow. “I’m in no hurry.”
“I felt sorry that Hannah was working and wondered if her mother would let her play with me and Lauren for a while instead. I hoped Hannah would play with me even after Lauren returned to Chicago. I was lonely and thought Hannah might be, too.”
She drew in the air she needed. “But the longer I stayed in that cabinet listening to them, the more I realized that Hannah was happy already. She and her mother sang songs while they worked and told stories. They laughed together, deep from the belly, in a way I’d always been forbidden to do.”
Luke frowned. “You weren’t allowed to laugh?”
“Not more than a feminine titter behind my hand. Anything else wasn’t ladylike, you see.”
Luke shook his head. “I’d like to hear you laugh deep from the belly sometime. But go on. What happened next?”