Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Before I return to the main house in the evening, I search the entire guest house for the radio, only to confirm what I suspected—it’s nowhere to be found. Someone came here and took it.
But who? And why?
I didn’t care about it before, but now? Now I feel…like the ground is no longer underfoot. If they aren’t hiding anything, why take the radio? Unless they don’t trust me. Somehow, that stings worst of all.
When Polly comes to retrieve me on the golf cart, I ride most of the way in silence, completely lost in my own head.
It was easier when I believed the Mornings really were just worried about me, about my fear and stress and how it might affect either myself or the wedding. But now? Now something else is beginning to set in.
A sort of dread. Paranoia. Something spreading through my veins like smoke, like darkness crawling from the ground, winding around my bones.
Something is very, very wrong here. With the Mornings. With this place.
If they don’t want me to have the radio, or to communicate with whomever is on the other end of the line, there has to be a reason. Is it simply because they don’t trust me? Or are they hiding something? Do they know whom the voice belonged to?
It feels impossible. This family is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. They’re warm. Kind. Protective. Perfect. They’d never…what? I don’t even know what to accuse them of.
I don’t want to accuse them of anything.
Maybe it would be better if I could just let it go. If I could just try to forget. To believe them fully when they tell me it’s all a prank.
I just feel like there’s more to all of this.
“You okay?” Polly asks, interrupting my racing thoughts as we approach the main house. She looks over at me, her face etched with worry.
“I…”
“You look like you’re going to be sick.” She slows the golf cart down, waiting for me to confirm.
Eventually, I shake my head. “Sorry. I’m fine. Just a little tired, I think.”
Her nod comes slowly, like she doesn’t quite believe what I’m saying. “I think we’re all going out for dinner.” Her words are almost regretful. A warning. “Marlie and Warren are leaving tomorrow, so this is the last night it’ll be just the family. Before everyone comes in for the rehearsal dinner.”
I’d forgotten about that. Last night at dinner, Rachelle mentioned having Marlie and Warren fly into Martha’s Vineyard to get the press talking about their arrival and further throw off the trail. It’s the final day for us to get everything ready before the rehearsal dinner and wedding.
I swallow, brushing hair back behind my ear with a small nod. When we reach the house, I pull Simon aside and into our bedroom.
“Everything okay?” He studies me, the smile fading from his lips. His skin is pink from the sun he’s been getting, from the time spent outside goofing off with his brothers—mostly Duncan.
“I’m not feeling well,” I say softly, holding my stomach for effect.
“Are you sick?” His words almost sound like an accusation.
“I don’t think it’s serious,” I say gently. “I just…need to stay home and rest, which means I can’t join you guys for dinner.”
His face smooths, then wrinkles again, like he’s just remembering the dinner plans and then processing the fact I won’t make it. He scratches the space between his eyes, thinking. “Should I… Do you want me to stay with you? I don’t have to go, either.”
But even as he says it, I can tell what he wants my answer to be. I know he’s missed his family. Even if I wanted him to stay, I’d never agree to it for fear of being a burden. “No. No. I’m just going to go to bed early. There’s no point in you missing the dinner too.”
He pinches his lips together. “Do you need anything? Medicine or…food? I can order soup if there’s none in the kitchen. Or have Caleb run into town.”
“I’m really okay.” I place a hand on his chest. “I think I just want to lie down.”
Something shifts in his eyes, a flicker of suspicion and worry. “Did something happen?”
I shake my head without a word.
“Do you want me to run you a bath?”
My smile is small. “That sounds nice.”
Relieved to have something to do, he takes half a step back. “I’ll let Mom and Dad know too. And Marlie. Are you sure there’s nothing else you need? You should eat something.”
“I will if I get hungry.” I rise onto my toes, meaning to kiss his lips before thinking better of it and brushing a kiss to his cheek instead. Then, I kick off my shoes and crawl into bed, throwing the covers up over my shoulders and squeezing my eyes shut.
I listen as he makes his way into our en suite and runs my bath water, the sound nearly lulling me to sleep. For a moment, I let myself forget that I’m not actually sick. With the sound quieting everything else, my body warm under the covers, it would be all too easy to fall asleep right now.
A few moments later, he presses a kiss to my temple and shuts the bedroom door on his way out. I lie in bed until I hear the garage door opening below and catch the headlights on the window blinds.
After the house is empty, I slip into the bath—old habits die hard, and I still can’t bring myself to waste the water. As I scrub my hair and wash my skin, I’m busy thinking. Questioning everything. Running through all the possible scenarios.
If someone took the radio, they must’ve brought it back to the house. The movers still haven’t come. So, who took it? And why only the radio?
There’s only one possibility—that they didn’t want me communicating with Lia anymore. Or whoever this is.
Which…opens up a whole new set of possibilities that scare me.
I don’t want to think it. Or consider it.
It feels treasonous. Wrong.
I feel like I’m betraying them somehow—this family who has welcomed me into their fold with open arms. This man I love more than life. The sisters I never thought I’d have. The life I never thought I’d live.
But how can I ignore it? How can I pretend I didn’t hear that little girl calling for help?
Why are they so determined to ignore it?
If they took the radio, maybe they actually do know what’s going on and don’t want me to find out.
Maybe I should’ve been listening to my gut all along, rather than Simon’s assurance that it’s all a prank.
Maybe they shouldn’t be so quick to assume it’s a prank, either.
I don’t want to betray them, but it’s getting harder to ignore my worry.
The emotions war within me, the different versions of me trying and failing to take over, to make me see reason.
A few minutes later, when I’m out of the bath and dressed in my pajamas, I still don’t know which side has won.
Downstairs in the kitchen, I open one of the pantries and help myself to a sleeve of water crackers. My stomach longs for Ritz—a piece of childhood I’ve nearly forgotten—but there’s nothing quite so simple at Morning House.
“Everything okay?”
A voice from behind startles me, and I jolt, shutting the pantry door as if I’ve been caught doing something awful.
His familiar face curls into a smile. Caleb stands there, tall and rail-thin, with a strawberry-blond buzz cut atop his head and freckles scattered everywhere on his pale skin.
His eyes fall to the pack of crackers in my hand, and heat swims in my veins.
“Do you…want me to make you something?”
“Oh, no. That’s not your job,” I remind him. Caleb and I have never had the easy relationship he manages with my mother- and sisters-in-law. Perhaps because we’re not around as often. He’s nice enough, but our encounters always feel awkward. Draining.
He crosses the kitchen and pulls down a wineglass, pouring from an open bottle on the counter. “My job is whatever Rachelle says, and Rachelle texted when they left and told me to make sure you don’t need anything. So, technically”—he tilts his head from side to side—“my job.”
“I’m good,” I promise him. “But thank you. I just needed a snack.” I wiggle the bag in the air as if to prove I managed to find one.
“Any medicine? We’ve got a whole pharmacy.”
“I’m okay. I think I just need to sleep. But thank you.”
He shrugs, taking a sip of his wine. “It’s in the main floor bathroom if you need it. The closet by the tub.”
“Thanks.” I turn to walk away, but stop myself—bracing, wishing, praying.
“Hey, by the way, do you know if anyone brought a little radio to the house?” My voice sounds too light, too casual.
When he doesn’t answer in half a second, I add, “From the guest house. I was packing it away, but it’s missing. ”
A muscle twitches near his eye, and I’m sure in an instant he knows what I’m talking about. I feel the shift in the room. Perhaps he knows quite a bit about the situation. The air thickens, and regret engulfs me.
I shouldn’t have said anything.
I should’ve left it alone.
I should’ve searched on my own.
But I need to know.
Finally, he squints his eyes, as if he’s thinking. “I think I saw Pierce carry it to his bedroom,” he says eventually, deadpan. “I’d check under his bed or in the closet.” Then he moves past me with a final warning, “But you didn’t hear it from me.”
I could kiss him.
His husband might object.
“Thank you.” I watch as he disappears down the long hall and up the stairs.
Most bedrooms in Morning House are on the second floor, but Pierce and Rachelle have an entire wing in the back of the house on the first floor, so as soon as I’m alone, I head that direction.
I have to be fast. I have no idea when they’ll be back.
The house is so quiet I can hear the buzz from some appliance somewhere, a quiet lull that echoes in the back of my mind as I make my way toward the primary suite in a rush.
I pause for the briefest moment in front of the door, taking a deep breath and checking over my shoulder.
I’ve been in this room only a handful of times—once when I helped Rachelle wrap the kids’ Christmas presents, once when she offered me a dress for an event, and once or twice when playing hide-and-seek with my niece and nephews.