5. Rook
“He was a good man.”
“A pillar of the community.”
“Such a blessing to have known him.”
It was an odd sight: two unfamiliar women, eulogizing the father figure who had raised me. They spoke of him with familiarity, as if they were close friends or relatives who knew all the intimate details of his life.
”And he was so generous with his contributions…” The elder woman”s thin lips curled in disapproval. ”It”s a shame his daughters won”t continue his charitable traditions. I’m sure they don”t understand the importance of upholding family legacy. His good name will surely be tarnished by those girls.”
“They wouldn”t know how to carry on his name if it bit them in the butt,” the younger woman sniggered.
”That was his one flaw, if he had any,” the elder one—with her grey hair pulled tightly into a bun and a black blouse buttoned up to her chin—tutted. ”Not remarrying. He couldn’t have raised them the way a woman would’ve. It’s no wonder they’ve not accomplished anything.”
“Bless their hearts.” The younger one shook her head in false sympathy, causing her bleached blonde hair to sway over her shoulders. She was wearing a black dress, cut low to reveal large, perky breasts and stiff nipples—she clearly wasn’t wearing a bra, and hoping to get noticed. “It’s true. They could’ve used a mother in their lives. Did you see how they behaved at the grave?” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Didn”t they ever learn how to act for the occasion?”
“There”s nothing more pathetic than a daughter who can”t even mourn her father properly. Silently. With dignity and respect,” the elderly woman sighed sadly. “In my day, we knew how to behave at a funeral.”
There was a pause, then, the younger woman, “It’s a wonder how no one knew about his sickness.”
The older woman gave her friend a knowing look. “I thought he looked too pale, last time I saw him. Certainly not healthy enough for a man his age.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“Well,” the grey-haired lady sniffed, turning away with an air of superiority. “I wasn’t about to spread rumors.”
They fell silent again, their beady eyes scanning the room. I saw and felt the blonde’s eyes latch on me, brightening. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Bleached white teeth blinked with her false smile, her gaze lowering…taking me in. “Little Rook Craven. Looks like you’re all grown up.”
Tightening my grip on the crystal glass in my fingers, I took a deliberate, generous sip of red wine and assessed her coolly. “Do I know you?”
The smile faltered, then quickly recovered, frozen in place. “Maybe you don’t remember me. I’m Miss Dutton. Of course, I used to be Mrs. Wilkes but that was ages ago.”
She blinked thick, false lashes, waiting for me to recognize her. When I didn’t, she gestured to the woman at her side, “And this is Mrs. Stetson, a long standing member of the community here in Lowcountry. Her family’s been here since before Sherman’s march. I come from Charleston, so my family’s practically neighbors.” When I continued to only stare at her, her too thin smile stretched even larger. “Coincidentally, the last time I saw you was in this exact room. At another funeral. You were only a kid then, of course.”
Melanie’s.
Douglass’ wife.
She continued as if I’d given her any indication I was interested in continuing this conversation. “Why don’t you call me Caroline now, you’re not a child any longer.” Reaching out to squeeze my hand, she inched closer and peered up at me demurely, “Looks like you’ve come up in the world. I heard you joined the Magnolia Society a few years ago. They don’t just take anyone. Tell me Rook, did you ever marry?”
“I was twenty-five.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“At that funeral. The last time you saw me, I was twenty-five.” That was seven years ago. Not a fucking kid.
“And I was thirty-eight then but they say I still look like I’m in my twenties.” Still smiling, she brushed her hair from her shoulder, giving me an expectant look. Probably waiting for a compliment or to agree with her.
Instead, I responded, “Beneath every polished smile lies the ugliness of our true nature. And you, ladies, are showing.” I tipped my glass, finishing it off before giving them a curt nod. “If you’ll excuse me.” I turned my back on them, walking away.
“What does that even mean?” Mrs. Stetson huffed.
“I don’t know. But he sure is stuck up for someone who comes from his background.” Caroline said to my back, loud enough that I could hear her. “Jesus knows he has the personality of a mosquito.”
“You can’t make a silk purse from a sow’s ear, dear,” the elder lady replied, “He may have the money but he’ll never be good southern stock. You deserve better.”
Caroline’s voice lowered, though I could still hear her as I traded out my current empty wine glass with a new one, drinking it quickly. “Sure wouldn’t mind polishing his jewels though, if you get my meaning.”
“Caroline!”
“Just a little!” she giggled.
God, these insufferable vultures; it was suffocating inside this room. No wonder Summer had disappeared over an hour ago.
Working my way through the throng of mourners, I finally made my way into Douglass’ private study. Inhaling the smell of well-used, hardback books, antique leather furniture, and stale air, I opened the cabinet to his private stash of alcohol. Red wine wasn’t going to cut it this evening.
I filled my now empty glass with whiskey, and sat on the leather sofa, staring at the fireplace, the hearth dusted with cold ash.
I remembered the first time I’d arrived at Darkmoor Manor. I was fourteen years old—orphaned and alone. I had no one left in the world who cared about me.
Douglass and Melanie were newly married, without kids. They had their whole lives ahead of them, and yet, they took me in.
They’d sat me down in this very room and, instead of doling out a list of rules and things they expected from me, they had listened to me talk. Their quiet concern had opened something inside me, and everything about my past had come spilling out.
Despite everything, Douglass and Melanie made me feel safe in a world that had only proven me otherwise.
And now, it was only me.
All the people I’d loved had either betrayed me, or died.
What Douglass and Melanie had tried to give me failed—the world was never safe, and I would always be alone.
“Rook.” The low voice broke me from my dark thoughts. It was Hawke Thornfield, a professor at the nearby Netherveil University.
Like me, he had the luxury of choosing his job based on personal preference, rather than financial obligation.
“I’m leaving.” With rakish dark brown hair, thick black framed glasses, and a bespoke tweed suit, his overall demeanor conveyed the image of rogue intellectualism. His focused stare was intense and calculating, as if searching for a hidden meaning beyond the obvious. He was one of the smartest, and most dangerous, men I’d ever known.
He quirked an eyebrow. “Feeling sentimental?”
I pressed my lips into a thin line, trying to decide if I should answer him.
Hawke was one of the few associates I confided in. And yet, trusted men could easily become your worst enemies; I had enough proof of this to last a lifetime.
“Yes.” I decided long ago that honesty was always the smarter choice when it came to Hawke, as he likely knew the answer anyway. He was merely giving me the courtesy to voice it. “This will probably be the last time I will ever be here. I’m…” I swirled the remainder of my whiskey, considering my next words, “reflecting.” Remembering the one time in my life I truly felt alive.
He studied me a bit longer, his gaze moving from the tie I’d loosened at my neck, to the glass of whiskey in my hands, to the fireplace where, over the mantel, was placed an ornately framed photo of the family.
It was from when Melanie was still alive—the four of them. Not sitting stiffly in a stuffy studio, but rather on a boat on the Atlantic Ocean. Wearing swimsuits and large smiles, Summer was proudly displaying a large fish for the cameraman.
My heart ached when I looked at that photo. Both effusive love for the couple who gave so much in return, and yet, a deep and intense longing.
Ever since I went off to college, and with the Magnolia’s involvement in our lives, Douglass and I decided that it was better for me to remain anonymous to the girls.
It was a lonely existence. Living just on the edge of the family, somewhat included, but never actually belonging.
“Some people think that the only way to happiness is by living in the present.” Hawke leaned against the doorway, staying just outside my private space. “But I don’t believe that. If we don’t look forward, we react to the power of others, instead of designing our own lives. And, if we don’t look to the past, we cannot find peace with it.” He straightened, casually sliding his hands into his pockets, revealing the pistol tucked into the holster on his hip. “But don’t be a prisoner to the past or future, either. We have the privilege to form the past into a life that we want. Do what you need to do, then move on.”
Sometimes, I really hated this asshole.
“Sounds like a fairy tale,” I remarked. “Some of us are shackled to our history. And in my future, there is nothing but revenge for past wrongs. Moving on has a high price tag.”
“Then pay it.”
His words hitting something inside me, I stilled. Then nodded, thinking.
He was right.
There was no point in brooding.
Tonight, I would warn Summer away from this place. Tell her to collect her inheritance and sell Darkmoor Manor.
It would be easy—Summer was smart. There was a small fortune waiting for her and Callie—they could go anywhere they wanted.
Summer hadn’t lived here in a long time, and I was sure she wasn’t attached to this place.
Not like me.
I was the only one who had to say goodbye to a place I loved.
“Although, sometimes, loneliness is the tax for loving others,” Hawke interrupted my thoughts, his eyes on the family photo. “The price we pay for an awareness of the world as it really is.”
When I didn’t respond further, he stepped back into the darkened hallway. “See you at rituals.”
I didn’t linger much longer but instead, tipped my glass to the photo, saying a final goodbye to the man who had been more than a best friend to me. Swallowing the remaining liquid, I placed it on the mantel beside the family photo, then turned and left.
Time to get Summer on her way, and say goodbye to the family forever.