Chapter Twenty-Three
The next morning, Sonya rolled out of bed before Trey.
He opened one eye. “Really?”
“I’ve got a ten o’clock video call, and some work to make up before that. I want to get a workout in.”
“Again I say, really? And add, after yesterday?”
“Yesterday is why I’m taking a page out of Cleo’s book and sticking with yoga. I’m feeling all those trips up and down steps, and all the rest of it.”
She pulled on a sports bra, workout capris, then walked back to the bed. Leaned over, kissed him.
“You could join me.”
“I think no. I’m after a long, hot shower, coffee, breakfast. I’ve got a nine o’clock.”
“Then I’ll see you tonight. Hauling furniture is not on tonight’s menu.”
“Much gratitude.” He grabbed her hand before she straightened. “What you’re doing? What you’ve done upstairs? It makes a difference. Collin lost his heart, and let a lot of it go. You’ve brought the heart back.”
Now she laid her cheek against his. “I feel that. I really feel that. But we’ve brought the heart back. And we’re not nearly done.”
She straightened. “I’ll let any of our four-legged family out who wants to go in the yard. You put out the food.”
She started for the door, paused, and looked back. “I really loved waltzing with you.”
“And we’re not nearly done.”
That put a bounce in her step as she walked down the hallway with Mookie and Yoda following. Since neither Pye nor Jones came out of Cleo’s bedroom, she decided Owen had already left for the day.
She tended to start hers early, but he, invariably, started earlier.
She found her assumption correct when she reached the kitchen and found a note.
All pets fed, and don’t let them tell you different.
She looked down at the dogs. “There will be no second breakfast, but you’re welcome to go out and play.”
Clover played “Good Morning Starshine” while Sonya let them out, got coffee. Then watched them romp around while the coffee kicked in.
Color had begun to bloom in the woods. Hints of gold and orange and red splashed against the deep green of the pines.
“If I were Cleo, and since it’s a beautiful morning, I’d grab a hoodie and do the yoga in the garden. But I’m not Cleo, and I need somebody telling me what to do next.”
Once she’d polished off her coffee, she filled a water bottle and made her way down to the gym.
After spreading out a mat, she scrolled through programs until she found one that seemed best for stretching overworked muscles.
The fact that it started with breathing suited her, so she sat cross-legged on her mat, hands in prayer. Within ninety seconds, she feared the soothing voice and the mindful breathing would put her right back to sleep.
Then she rose, began the first gentle stretches, following along with the calm-eyed woman with the smooth ponytail on the wall screen.
By the time the instructor told her to step to the front of the mat for sun salutations, she felt relaxed but awake. And enjoyed having someone who seemed to care about her well-being telling her when and how to move, when and how to breathe.
By the second sun salutation, her muscles had loosened, her body just flowed along with the voice.
Warrior One. Inhale, exhale. One more breath. Warrior Two. Gaze over your extended left arm.
Both her body and her mind flowed with the voice, with the movements, the poses. Almost like a trance, she thought vaguely as she moved to plank, Chaturanga, Up Dog, Down Dog. Then back to repeat the whole sequence on the other side.
And the voice, so quiet, so soothing, guided her through to the next set of Warrior poses.
You’re no warrior, Sonya. You fear because you’re pathetic and weak. You have nothing, you are nothing.
“No.” Sonya sighed it as, almost dreaming, she continued to move through the poses.
No true Poole. The manor knows it. The manor rejects you.
“No,” she said again as the cold coated her skin.
I could kill you with a thought and no one would weep. I give you the gift of allowing you to take your own life. To have that moment of courage. Outside, Sonya, outside. The sea waits for you. Spare yourself the pain, and end it.
“No.” Shivering, she pulled back.
On-screen the instructor continued to move, so fluid, so graceful, even while blood poured down her face, down her long, limber arms and legs.
She turned her head, grinned at Sonya with teeth as sharp as a shark’s.
Inhale, exhale, you stupid bitch. Your time to breathe is almost done.
“Bullshit.” Sonya grabbed the remote, hit the off button, but the image remained on-screen.
Try this.
Sonya heard bones crack as the yogi’s shoulders lifted, twisted, rotated. And again as, grinning, shark’s teeth gleaming, she lowered her head and shoulders between her legs, up behind her back.
She heard the neck snap, a dry twig underfoot, as her head circled.
End the fear. End the torment. Give yourself to the sea.
“That’s your way, the coward’s way. It’s not mine.”
From their hooks, the exercise bands coiled, uncoiled, dropped. She swore they hissed like snakes.
Wrap one around your neck. It won’t take long, and you’ll be free.
“No.” Because she felt those licks of fear and knew they’d made Dobbs stronger, she turned to the door.
It slammed shut before she reached it.
Then die here, alone in the cold and the dark. No one will come to help you. And in death, so alone, to weep and wail endlessly in the manor. In my manor. Never yours. Never yours. Mine for all time.
The screen shut off, and so did the lights. All she heard in the dark was the hissing. And then the almost jubilant ringing of the servant’s bell.
With a hand gone clammy despite the cold, Sonya reached for her phone, then cursed when she saw herself setting it on the kitchen island before she’d let the dogs out.
Holding out both hands, she put the angle and distance to the door in her head. Slowly, carefully moved forward. But when she reached the door, relief wouldn’t come.
The door didn’t budge.
The hissing grew louder, and the cold deeper.
She feared one of those bands winding itself around her throat. Feared Dobbs snapping her neck as she’d seen her snap Arthur Poole’s, Johanna’s.
Trey wouldn’t come. He’d simply go off to work. Cleo wouldn’t be up for hours.
She’d die alone, in the cold and dark.
She screamed when a hand covered hers.
Then a voice whispered in her ear.
“She lies. She lies, Sonya. You’re not alone. You’re stronger than she is. You have to be. Be stronger.”
“Not alone,” Sonya murmured, and bore down. “Be stronger.”
Showered, shaved, and more than ready for coffee, Trey started down the hall toward the stairs.
The phone in his pocket blasted Buckcherry at top volume.
“Crazy Bitch.”
He didn’t think, didn’t need to. He ran full out toward the servants’ door and down the stairs. He heard the bell ringing, and it sounded like the alarm at a railroad crossing.
He sprinted toward the door of the gym, shouting Sonya’s name.
As he reached for it, it swung open.
Sonya stood pale, breath shuddering. But her eyes blazing blue with triumph.
“I wasn’t alone. I was stronger.”
He dragged her to him. “You’re freezing. Let’s go get you warm.”
“I’m already warmer.” She wiggled away from him to turn toward the room. “Hear that, bitch? You’re the one who died alone. This is my house, and I’m never alone.”
She may have shouted it, may have looked fierce, but she trembled all over.
“Come on, cutie. Come on with me now.”
She let him lead her away, and glanced over as the ringing bell snapped to silence.
“That’s right,” she muttered. “That’s right. Go curl up in your hole. You won’t have even that for long.”
As they started up the stairs, the adrenaline began to recede. When her legs went weak, she leaned against him.
“You came looking for me. I didn’t think you would.”
“Clover let me know you needed me to.”
“She’s the best. Need a second. Legs are a little shaky.”
To solve that, he picked her up. “I’ve got you.”
“Yeah, you do.”
When he pushed open the servants’ door, they saw Cleo, hair wild, rushing toward them with the cat slinking behind. Then doubling her pace when she saw them.
“What happened? Are you hurt? What—”
“Not hurt. Just catching a ride. Downstairs, okay? Because I could really use more coffee. You can put me down.”
“I’ve got you,” he repeated as Cleo reached out.
“You’re cold. I’ll get a blanket.”
“No, no, trust me, this isn’t cold. Did Clover wake you up?”
“I’ll say.” Cleo knew her friend, and her friend needed a couple of minutes. “I heard some blast of music. That didn’t really register.”
“‘Crazy Bitch.’”
At her half-amused look, Trey shook his head. “Not you. The music.”
“If you say so. Then my phone’s blasting ‘Hell’s Bells.’”
“AC/DC, good choice.” Trey turned at the bottom of the stairs.
“Well, that woke me up. Add the Gold Room bell clanging like a fire alarm. Then there you are. I’ll get the coffee. Lots of coffee.”
Cleo hurried ahead.
“Dobbs is running scared.”
“Is she?” Trey turned his head to brush his lips over Sonya’s hair.
“Yeah, she is.” As they passed the music room, she looked in at the portraits. She wasn’t alone, she thought again. And neither were the brides. “Crazy bitch ruined my yoga practice, and I was into it.”
In the kitchen, Cleo took the first mug off the machine, added Sonya’s preferred dollop of milk.
“Just what I need.”
“I’m scrambling eggs. We’ll have eggs and toast.”
“Sounds great.” Trey set Sonya on a stool at the island. “Just let me make a call and reschedule.”
“No, don’t. How long was I down there?” Sonya grabbed the phone she’d left on the counter. “It’s still early. You have time to eat, and hear me out, before you leave for work.”
“Let’s take step one. On my list that’s hear you out.”
“Same as my list.” Cleo got out eggs, then a bowl before turning to get Trey’s coffee.
“I wasn’t down there nearly as long as I thought.” Sonya set her phone down again. “As it felt. I came down, got coffee, let the dogs out. They’re still out. Maybe we should—”
“They’re fine,” Cleo assured her. “I just let Pye out with them.”