Chapter 47
“You okay?” Kaitlyn asked as Harper entered the kitchen.
“Yeah, I just didn’t sleep well, I’m … okay. How’re you?” Harper managed a smile.
Kaitlyn looked at her skeptically. “If you say so. I’m always alright.” She nodded to the coffeepot. “That’ll help I bet. Have a seat, I’ll bring you an extra-large coffee, and what would you like to eat? I make an incredible French omelet if I do say so myself.”
Harper smiled, this time with no effort. “That sounds perfect. I didn’t get a chance to say thank you for last night’s dinner, it was incredible.”
Kaitlyn nodded reverentially. “Thank you. I have been experimenting with that Bolognese sauce for a while now, you and Anna were my guinea pigs. It’s nice to see Anna up here. She stays to herself out there at the cottage too much. Maybe with you here, she’ll come around more often.”
Harper looked out the window, where the rain was coming down in sheets. “I suspect she’s going to have her hands full with this rain.”
“True that,” Kaitlyn said as she handed Harper a large mug of coffee. “She and the crew were out laying sandbags when I woke up, I’d bet they’re still at it.”
Harper sat at the table while Kaitlyn cooked and stared out the window; the storm was every bit as harsh as the reports said it would be.
She found her mind wandering back to Meg in the bitter cold and looked down at her fingertips, the trace memory of the torture tingling deep in her skin.
She shook it off as Kaitlyn delivered a plate to the table.
The omelet was every bit as good as Kaitlyn had promised.
By the time she had finished, two assistants had joined Kaitlyn in the kitchen and Nigel was waiting for his own omelet.
“You look a bit sleepy if you don’t mind my saying,” he said as his dark eyes scanned Harper’s face.
“I am.” Harper looked down at herself and realized that she was still wearing her sweats from last night. “I apologize for my appearance … I’m not quite put together.”
“Nonsense. We hardly stand on attention here.” Nigel waved away her apology.
“I am tired, but also not. I’ve been reading the records in the library, the archives,” Harper said, and sipped her coffee.
“So I heard. Lots of material to go through up there,” Nigel said carefully. “You might want to pace yourself. Some of the accounts can be upsetting.”
Harper felt her wall crumble a bit more at the compassion on his face. “I’m supposed to go back to the village tomorrow morning.”
“Says who?” Nigel said with a snort. “Certainly not Lady Bell, she’s quite pleased with your company, and if you look outside, I hardly think the road will even be open by that time.
I cannot imagine there is much work to be done until this clears entirely.
Another day or two or three will do you good. ”
Harper looked out the window. Nigel was right, the storm did not look like it was blowing over. “Perhaps you’re right, but I do need to check in with Okeanos tomorrow, and Murphy down at the dock.”
“Good, then it’s settled. You will stay with us a bit longer, and you can get a bit of rest before you tackle the archives again,” Nigel said as Kaitlyn set a plate in front of him.
“Pardon my father,” she said with an affectionate grin. “He might have a crusty shell, but he’ll dad you to pieces.” She kissed his cheek and Nigel gave a warm smile as she returned to the kitchen.
“That may be true, but I do hope you will take it easy. The records you are reading are, well, they’re a lot, take care of yourself.” Nigel took a bite and looked to the kitchen. “Kaitlyn, my dear, this omelet is a triumph.”
Harper excused herself and returned to her room, where she saw what the others had seen.
Her eyes were red with exhaustion, and there were faint bags under her eyes.
She pulled her hoodie off and examined the bruise on the back of her arm.
It was aging into tones of purple, yellow, green, but the shape of the lash was clear.
She lay on the bed and closed her eyes, willing Meg to return and show her what she needed to see.