Chapter 20 #2
I close the door behind me, which draws his attention. I’m vaguely aware that he’s brought order to the cottage—ancient dishes are neatly stacked, the floor is swept, and surfaces are clean.
“There you are, my lady.” He straightens and gives a mock bow. “Dishes are scarce, but I’ve found a few that’ll do.” He sets out mismatched plates heaping with boiled potatoes and fish. They might have once been part of a respectable set. “How’d you fare? Any memories yet?”
I stare at the back of his head as he turns another fish over the flames. “A few. But I find they’re clouding my vision of what’s plainly before me in the present.”
I once spoke to Cecil about not trusting Sabine. It was he who warned me to keep clear of her, though she’d seemed so amiable at first. “So how do you determine who’s to be trusted and who isn’t?” I asked the boy.
He didn’t look down on me for asking such a thing—he never did—only took it as a matter of course that, even though I was grown, he knew things I did not and we were meant to help each other.
He shrugged. “Those who’re honest, they say what they mean.
Even if it hurts. Those who aren’t…their answers don’t say anything.
Grandmama asked Aunt Sabine once if she knew where Papa was when he disappeared—you know, that day. ”
The day she’d had him sent to the asylum. Yes, I knew that day. “And what did she say?”
“Nothing. Just smiled real pretty at Grandmama and kissed her cheek and asked if she’d seen my exams yet.”
I stare hard at AJ’s back, and similar words from Henry Gould surface, mingling with Cecil’s. Ask questions. Be direct. And watch for people who evade answering. But I cannot test it, can I? AJ’s mind is a squirrel—here, there, everywhere. He seldom gives direct answers.
Which…is suddenly quite bothersome.
I force a smile, though AJ still faces away. “So, where’ve you been today? Chasing some business venture?”
He turns, breaking into a wide grin as if I’ve said the most humorous thing.
“If you call skinning fish big business. Then, yes. The biggest. Let me tell you, this place is dripping with fish, and did I mention I saw one the length of my leg?” He drops the extra fish onto another plate and sits across from me, beaming at…
life, I suppose. “You’d have fallen over in a dead faint!
Either from shock or the ghastly smell of the place. ”
I feel his charm tugging at me, its undertow to my soul, and I resist it by barreling into indecent territory. “What’ll we do for money after this trip? You don’t by chance paint, do you?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Never held a brush. I haven’t that sort of skill.”
“Haven’t you any business ventures, Ansel? Investments?” The memory of his angry words in the telephone booth echoes, clanging in the quiet of my mind.
“Not a one, luv. Humble beginnings, only changed by yourself, of course. The gem of true worth.” He kisses my fingertips. “Besides, we won’t need any troublesome ventures.”
I chew my lip. “I haven’t secured the inheritance yet.”
“You will.” He sobers. “I’ll personally see to it. You will.”
I set down the fish I haven’t touched. I cannot eat it.
I’m numb as I watch the sun cresting the water the next morning on the quiet Porthmeor Beach, the glow bathing my chilled skin.
It was a long, restless night beside AJ—me in the lumpy bed, him on the rug cocooned in wool blankets.
When I woke, I slipped into the white gown I’d been wearing during the accident, the only item that truly belonged to me, and made a dash for the cove. I had to decide something, and fast.
It’s a sanctuary, this beach cupped in the palm of rocks. Fishermen have left already, and the rest of the village sleeps.
When I’m certain the publican will be in his place behind the Sloop’s bar, I scramble up the rocks toward the whitewashed old village. Even its charming streets rise and fall like the waves, giving the cobblestones a sense of movement.
The inn is eerily quiet, low and dark and well insulated, the telephone booth unoccupied. The publican once again connects the line, marks my card, and steps away, leaving me alone to face whatever truth has been unearthed about my husband.
A buzz, then click, click, click. I close my eyes and see AJ swinging upside down from a tree branch in the park, just to astound the well-dressed ladies.
AJ spinning and clicking his heels and then holding out a hand to me, inviting me to dance.
AJ, charming me into his atmosphere of warm spring breezes and birdsong, where the sun always shone, even when it didn’t.
I had a terrible day once—the fateful day they declared Lady St. Laurent’s anemia to be pernicious anemia, which meant it was terminal.
I’d only known AJ a brief time, but he’d come to take tea as previously scheduled.
Lady St. Laurent had been reserved but polite, which fooled everyone but AJ.
He never pushed, but he had walked into the room with a tiny lampshade on his head, fringe swishing about his forehead as he’d seated himself on the lounge and propped one foot over his knee.
I had burst into laughter and so had she.
Loudly and naturally, from the belly. He’d been a pressure valve for life, releasing at just the right time.
We never spoke of heavy things, AJ and I, but he never left them on my shoulders, either.
I couldn’t have survived the loss of my dear, enigmatic employer—my second mother—without him.
Life wouldn’t be half so grand without him in it.
He cannot be a liar. Cannot.
A voice comes over the line. “Hello? Hello?” Crackle, fizz.
“Yes. Mr. Gould? It’s Merryn again. Merryn Winthrop.”
“I don’t know any other Merryns.”
I take a breath. “What have you found, Mr. Gould?”
“You first. Are you married to someone else or not? I’m afraid it’s important.”
I breathe deeply of the salty air, and I see him easily now—the other man. A gentle smile of welcome. A hand outstretched. Wind ruffling his thick hair. Brown tweed coat flapping open. “I…I don’t know. Please, just tell me. What of AJ? What did you find?”
Static. “Are you sitting down?”
“Leaning. Go ahead.” I press my back into the walls of the booth and shove aside the sweet memories to make room for reality.