12
The meal couldn’t have turned out better. The lasagna cooked to perfection, and the fresh vegetables from the garden added a nice crispness to the meal. Danny ‘mmmed’ and ‘oooed’ with nearly every bite. Halfway through Ron joined us and filled his plate. Bridgette stayed away. Ron was nothing but pleasant, keeping his attention drawn to me, and it was during that particular part of the meal that Danny grew quiet. While we cleaned up, Ron insisted on helping at my side, pushing Danny away. I wished Ron would leave the two of us alone. After we were through, I pretended to head to bed and said goodnight to Ron. I whispered in Danny’s ear for him to meet me in the sitting room where I’d left the journal.
The click of the door shut at Ron’s exit as I headed toward the sitting room.
I dropped into the sofa and closed my eyes, letting my mind flip through the events of the last few days. What’s with Ron? Was he just an odd ball all the time?
“Fancy meeting you here.”
My eyes snapped open and my body hummed like chimes getting struck. Oh, his voice… I smiled at Danny and patted the seat beside me. He lowered next to me and I opened the book.
“Did the ghost say anything?”
I lifted my eyes from the book’s first page before I could read one word. “Huh? Oh, you mean earlier. Well, she tried, but it only came out as a moan.”
“I wonder what she would say if she could talk.” Danny scooted closer to me to see the written words of the book. The sofa sunk under our weight, causing us to press together. My entire left side felt alive. I could feel every breath he took moving through his body.
I picked out the first words. “Looks like the owner of this book is named Mirabella Nata Esp ... o...”
“Esposito, maybe. Sounds Italian.”
“Looks Italian, too,” I said after turning a few pages. Every word written was in a foreign language. “You wouldn’t happen to speak and read Italian, would you?”
“I took Italian in school years ago, but I’ve not used it since. I doubt I could catch more than a dozen words.” He stood as if propelled from a shock. “Hold on. I’ll be right back.”
He left me to flip the pages and wish I knew more than English. The spine cracked with each movement, protesting from lack of use. Her penmanship was like artwork on the page. I wondered if the author of this book was as elegant and fine as the words written.
“Okay, Mirabella. What do you need to tell me? What’s your story?” A paper rustled at a small table from across the room. I lifted my head and searched the room for any sign of her. The room lay still. “How can I help?”
Widow moved closer to the woman named Jessica and considered showing herself, but knowing how frightened she’d been moments before, she changed her mind. She groaned impatiently.
“How can you help me when you don’t even read my language or understand me when I speak?” She folded her arms. “Imbecile.”
Not only had she been let down to find that the woman couldn’t read or speak in Italian, but she’d also been brokenhearted to find she couldn’t remember her native tongue. She drooped lower to the floor and hung her head. “Have I forgotten that much in all this time?”
A spark of hope burned deep within her soul. “No. I remembered the book. I knew where it was.” Of course, it did help that she could float through walls and often run into hiding place.
“Mirabella Nata Esposito,” Jessica said a few times more, each time saying it slightly differently.
When the woman spoke her name, Widow wanted to laugh and cry. A name that had long been forgotten filled Widow with joy each time she heard it spoken—even if she didn’t pronounce it correctly.
“My name,” Widow said and covered her heart.
The man returned to the room, and Widow drifted closer to see the book he held in his hand.
“I have an Italian-to-English translation. If we need additional help, we can use the internet translator.” He improperly sat too close to Jessica, checking the words in Widow’s diary and searching the word out in English.
“We need a notebook to write the translated sentences in.” Jessica suggested.
“Yes. Good idea.” Widow followed the Master to the corner desk, where he stood and shuffled about in a drawer. He returned with a pen and notepad in hand.
Widow paced the room as the two spoke with their heads together. Turning pages. Writing. Whispering. Turning pages. Writ—
Widow rushed through the wall and into the entry. “I cannot sit here any longer!” She paced the hall, twisting her ghostly hair in her fingers. Part of her wished to rush up to the blue room where Beauty would be and tell her of her findings, but she did not want to miss the findings from the two living beings in the room. What might they find?
Jessica
Amidst the heat of the fire and the comfort of Danny’s warmth beside me, I drifted into that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness. His words blended with the shadows of my dreams, swirling gently. Whenever he spoke loudly or moved quickly, I fluttered my eyelids toward the ceiling to reassure him I was still awake.
During my fight with my heavy eye lids, Danny sat forward with his elbows on his knees, pouring over the pages in both books. When he sat back, I woke fully and shifted to keep from getting squished.
“Your suggestion to skip to the end was a brilliant idea, Jessica.”
“Yeah. Did you find something?” I rubbed my hand down my face.
“I think I did. Look here.” He pointed to the notepad.
I skimmed through his handwriting, where he’d translated Mirabella’s life onto the page. Over the last few hours, we discovered she’d grown up in an Italian family of wealth and prestige. She grew up near Florence, where her family-owned acres of land and was known to be the finest vineyard in Italy. We also discovered a more personal side of Mirabella. She had agreed with her father to marry into an aristocratic English family at a young age. Not only would her dowry save this English family from financial ruin, but it would also keep her safe from her father’s long, hard arm.
Coming to Wrenthal castle, she found solace and freedom that she’d only wished for in the arms of her husband to be. In her journal, she describes their meeting as love at first sight. With each word, we learned how deeply her love grew. Each day leading closer to her marriage date became more and more detailed.
Danny pointed at the page he’d just finished. “Look here.”
I blinked hard and began, “My very bosom swells with joy for tomorrow I will wed. The only shadow over this joyous occasion is Mr. Tilton and his menacing threats. He continues to insist he loves me, and I continue to put off his advances, for I only have eyes for Walter.” I straightened my back and lifted my brows in interest. “Could she have been murdered by this Mr. Tilton?”
Danny shrugged. “Perhaps. It’s her last entry.” He sat up, grabbed the laptop, and slid it onto my lap. “I looked her up on the archives website you gave me, and this is what I found.” He pointed. “Mirabella Nata Esposito. Born February 16th 1889, and died August 15th 1911. That’s the very next day after this journal entry.”
“Wow. She died on her wedding day, too? Strange.” I read the entry before and found she mentions Mr. Tilton and his efforts to woo her. “I wonder who this Mr. Tilton is.”
“I tried searching him up but only found that he worked at Wrenthal up until that year, but it doesn’t give the exact date,” Danny said.
I yawned.
He yawned as well. “You didn’t sleep well last night. You should get to bed.”
I sat up even more and tried to look alert. “I’m fine. Any change to the blue room?”
He tapped the touchpad on the laptop to check the video. “Not a one.”
“Well, it’s after midnight. I’m sure we’ll see something soon.”
“Jessica?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you afraid to go to sleep?”
“Psst. No.” I waved my hand to bat the idea away.
“If you are afraid ... w—w—well, I’m here for you. You can wake me any time of the night, and I’ll come running.”
I studied his big dark blues and wondered why he never married. My mind wandered to the image of my dead body lying on the bed upstairs. Well, that’s gruesome. “What if you don’t hear me?”
“I’ll sleep with my door open.”
This is ridiculous! A grown woman doesn’t need babysitters—and she sure doesn’t need to inconvenience such a nice, sexy, handsome man and turn his world upside down with her crazy ideas! Get a grip!“You’re very kind, but don’t do anything out of the ordinary. I’m sure you have your routine, and I don’t want to be a burden.”
“If I didn’t do something to ease your worry, I’d fret and won’t sleep a wink. Now, come on. This can all wait until tomorrow.” He stood, pulled me to my feet, and followed me up the stairs.
I changed into my pajamas, and stood at my open door waiting for his to open as I brushed my teeth. His door opened just as I finished brushing. I held up my finger, then went to the bathroom to spit. I returned to see him leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. His flannel pajama bottoms, and T-shirt gave him a masculine look that drove me crazy with desire. I wonder what it would be like to cuddle up in those masculine arms? Never had I felt such longing for anyone.
He shifted his weight to stand taller. “You’ve set a good example.”
“Huh?”
“I should brush my teeth as long as you.”
“Nah. I just get going and start thinking of something else, then realize an hour passed by with my toothbrush in my mouth.”
“An hour. Really?”
I shook my head and laughed. “No.”
“Are you getting cheeky with me?”
“Cheeky? Did you say cheeky? I’ve been in England for just over a week now, and this is the first time I’ve heard someone say cheeky.” I switched my accent to one of the upper-class aristocrats and continued, “I was beginning to think the word was made up by us crazy Americans who are infatuated with all things British.”
“You sound awful when you try to mimic the proper way of pronouncing the English language. Maybe you should just stick to your lazy, savage ways.”
Oh, I could just kiss you for teasing me back!The gap between us seemed like the Mississippi River, and crossing the hall would only lead to embarrassment. I had no reason to go anywhere but back into my room, and taking one step forward would lead to my lips on his. That was something I wasn’t sure he’d welcome.
All I could do was laugh and swing my arms from front to back. “Well, keep your ears open. If I scream—”
“I’ll be there before you draw breath.”
Wow! He’s like a knight in shining armor!
We said our goodnights and both left our doors open. I crawled into my bed and rested on something other than my pillow. I sat up in a quick hurry to find a red rose rolling off my pillow. I picked it up and brought it to my nose, even though the scent of it had already filled my lungs. A giddy feeling wiggled down to my toes, making me want to dance, then run into Danny’s arms. But wait.What if it’s not from Danny? Just as quickly as that giddy feeling had come, it went. I walked to the door of my room and peered into the darkness of Danny’s room.
“Danny?”
I could see his figure sitting up from the bed in the darkness. “Jessica? Are you all right? Is something wrong?”
“I’m fine. I was just wondering … did you leave something on my pillow?”
“No. Is there something on your pillow?”
My breathing slowed, and a chill ran up my back. “Yeah.” His silhouette drew closer with his footsteps. “Let me see.” I held the rose out like a sword, pointing to him.
He took it and examined it. “Maybe it was Ron. He t—t— takes great pride in his flowers and I would say this rose is one of his best.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” The news didn’t comfort me anymore. In fact, it gave me the creeps. I knew what red roses meant. Did Ron think that he loved me?
“Are you alright?” Danny’s head tilted, studying me.
I put on a fake smile. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m just tired. Goodnight.” I waved and headed back to bed, feeling his gaze on me. Or maybe I was hoping he was checking me out. A girl could hope, right? The rose was tossed onto my luggage, where I wouldn’t mind it getting lost.