Chapter 15 Chicago, 1928—Remy #3
Remy’s hand went to the Sig at his side. When Violet stepped out from behind the bushes, pale coat catching the light, he exhaled and re-holstered it. “Scare the fuck out of us, Violet,” he said.
“I didn’t want to stand out here, looking like I had no purpose.”
Remy bit his tongue to keep from saying, “You still doan.”
“How’d you beat us here?” Skye asked.
“I took a shortcut.”
“I thought we took the fastest route.” Skye tilted her head, intrigued. “You’ll have to show me yours.”
Clay stepped up beside her. “Hello, Violet. I’m Clay MacIntyre. You might not recognize me.”
Violet’s gaze lingered on him for a beat too long. “Of course I do, Barclay. I thought that was ye at Marshall Field’s today.”
Skye extended her hand. “I’m Skye Marshall.”
Violet shook Skye’s hand. “We met before, but ye were so young, ye probably don’t remember.”
“Were you a friend of my parents?”
“Yer mother and I were friends for many years.”
Remy didn’t believe one goddamn word. All Violet was doing was ingratiating herself. Clay’s disbelieving expression said he wasn’t buying it either.
Skye laced her arm with Violet’s. “Please come in. We’re having a late dinner, and I’d love to hear about where you met my mother.”
Clay stopped Remy from entering the house and whispered, “She’s lying, and I don’t know why.”
Remy entered the house, whispering back, “Violet’s been traveling through the cosmos her entire life. It’s possible she knew Skye’s mother.”
Clay closed the door and hung up his hat. “This is too much of a coincidence.”
“Elliott has a saying about coincidences. Ask him when we get back.”
Remy followed Violet into the living room, intending to trap her in a lie. “Where’d you meet Skye’s mother?”
“Inverness, Scotland.”
Skye cocked her head, confused. “My mother was never in Scotland. You’re mistaken.”
“Of course she was.” Violet smiled at Skye. “Did she tell ye a different story?”
“She never traveled outside the city. She was afraid to leave home. I know she never went to Scotland,” Skye said, swift and certain.
“I must be mistaken,” Violet said, all hint of amusement gone from her voice.
Remy had to intervene and stop Violet from upsetting Skye further. “Can I call a taxi for you, Violet?” She stared at him, perplexed. It didn’t click with her that Remy was suggesting she leave.
“Where are you staying?” Skye asked.
“I… I didn’t plan to stay in the city tonight.” Violet hesitated, as if testing the ground.
“It’s too late to go anywhere now,” Skye said. “You’re welcome to stay here.”
“I don’t want to impose,” Violet said, her voice softening, eyes flicking briefly to Remy.
“It’s no imposition,” Skye replied at once.
“I’m sure you’d be more comfortable in a hotel,” Remy said, his tone polite enough, even as he hoped to hell she’d leave.
“The service might be better, but I can assure you the beds aren’t,” Skye said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll let my housekeeper know we’re home. She’ll bring dinner upstairs. Clay, why don’t you escort Violet to the library?”
“Sure.” He held his elbow out for Violet to wrap her arm around, and they started up the stairs. “Are you staying or disappearing?”
“Do ye mind if I stay?”
“As long as you behave, I don’t care. I don’t know about Archibald.”
As if Clay had summoned his other parent, Archibald bounded through the front door. “Good, ye’re still awake.” He removed his hat, hung it on the rack, and moved further into the foyer. “Well, look who’s here. I wasn’t expecting ye, Violet.”
She released Clay’s arm and descended the stairs. “Hello, Archibald. I heard ye were searching for me earlier.”
Archibald reclaimed his hat and turned to leave. “And I found ye. Ye were with… him.”
Violet barreled into Archibald and snapped her hand around his forearm, almost knocking him off balance. He yanked his arm from her clutches.
“We had some business to discuss. That was all,” she said.
Remy watched the altercation with fascination.
“How many times did ye tell me that? I knew ye were lovers. Where’s he now?” Archibald demanded.
She drew a deep, ragged breath. “Erik was recalled.”
“I hope they keep him.”
Remy almost choked at that, but quickly composed himself, glancing at Clay to ensure he was fully engaged in the conversation. Remy had only noticed it recently, but Clay had a distinct tell when emotionally uncomfortable—an odd shrugging motion that he was performing now.
“Let’s go for a walk, please,” Violet said to Archibald.
Was that code for Let’s Vanish? Remy knew that if the couple left now, he and Clay wouldn’t see them again, which wasn’t fair to Clay.
“Don’t leave,” Clay implored. “Go upstairs to Archibald’s room and work it out. We can talk tomorrow. But please don’t go. I might never see you again.”
Archibald and Violet exchanged glances. “I don’t want to fight with ye,” she said.
“Do you, Archibald?” Clay asked. “Do you want to fight with her instead of enjoying our time here?”
Remy watched Archibald and Violet closely for visceral reactions to their son’s request, hoping that they would tell him if they cared about Clay at all.
“Violet, I’m dead in Clay’s time. I can enjoy him as an adult here, and I intend to. If ye want to be part of our visit, then understand it’s about Clay. Not me, not us,” Archibald said.
“As long as ye understand that I want—”
“Hush,” Archibald said softly, his shoulders slumping. “I can’t hear this right now. If you can’t put Clay before yourself, then… then I don’t know what to tell you.”
The sheer force of Archibald’s glare seemed to crush Violet’s resolve, rendering her powerless and frail. “I’ve always put Barclay above my needs.”
Clay’s features pinched in strong disapproval. “If that’s true, then one of you is lying to me. And I’m not playing this game.” He stomped up the stairs, and Marcelle followed.
“You two will not break his heart again. Man up or get the hell out.” Remy ran up the stairs after Clay, wanting to quit this goddamn adventure and go home.
Clay was pouring drinks with a shaking hand when Remy reached the library. “I’m sorry you have to put up with them.”
“They keep me on edge because I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to screw things up because of what I know,” Clay said.
Marcelle took a glass from Remy.
Clay didn’t react when Archibald and Violet entered the room. “I’ll tend bar,” Archibald said immediately.
Clay relinquished the job and joined Marcelle on the sofa as Archibald and Violet took their drinks to opposite corners like boxers preparing for a brutal round in the ring.
“There are a couple of ground rules that require your buy-in,” Remy said.
“Skye doesn’t know where we’re from or what year.
The conversation about her mother complicates the situation, so please, no more of that.
Also, Marcelle and I are leaving tomorrow to find her brother.
We doan know where that’ll take us or how long we’ll be gone.
Please doan complicate that situation either. ”
“Why do ye think we’ll complicate things?” Archibald asked.
“Because that’s what you both do. You have more secrets than Lady Liberty and the Brooklyn Bridge combined,” Clay said. “Do you really know Skye’s mother?”
Violet sat in the funky chair that resembled a clamshell. “I did, but I won’t mention it again and will tell Skye I was mistaken.”
“That’s a good start,” Clay said. “Now I have a question. Why did you abandon me?”
“I never did that.”
“You can try to lie, but I know the truth. You gave me up for adoption when I was a toddler. Then you moved to Scotland to raise your nephew, Robert, who was Verdandi’s only child.”
“Why would I do that?”
Clay’s face grew red. “Because a terrorist killed Verdandi and her husband.”
Violet recoiled. “Verdandi and her husband are living in Buffalo.”
“Good for them,” Clay said. “Maybe it’s not too late for you to change what happens. But just so you know, I’m aware of Erik and Sten, as well as you and Verdandi. What I don’t know is where you’re from. Is it a dying planet or thousands of years from now?”
“I was born Violet Digby in Inverness. I’ve traveled, but my home is Scotland.”
“Do you and Ewan have a daughter, Alana?”
Violet set her drink aside, clasped her hands in her lap, and closed her eyes, seeming to shut down, much like a robot.
“Has Alana married Hughes Martin in your time?” Clay continued. “Have they had Rory yet? Have they traveled to America?”
“It won’t do any good, lad,” Archibald said. “When she gets like she is now, she won’t respond. It’s like she’s left her body.”
Remy pulled Clay aside. “She didn’t do what she did in the cave. There was no light.”
“I know, which makes me even more suspicious of what happened in the cave,” Clay said. “She’s acting just like Ofello.”
“That’s scary.” Remy checked his watch to mark the hour and minute Violet shut down.
He tapped the face to ensure it was correct and instantly realized how stupid that was.
This wasn’t a sports tracker. The goddamn watch cost more than his first year’s salary.
“Let me check her heart rate, blood pressure, and reflexes. I’ll carry her upstairs to Archibald’s room before Skye returns.
Will you get my medical bag and give it to Archibald? ”
Remy picked Violet up, and her weight shocked him. She couldn’t weigh a hundred pounds, yet she had the strength to pull Archibald off balance. Clay hurried to Remy’s room to get the bag while Archibald followed Remy up the stairs to his bedroom.
Archibald opened the door and hurried to pull the covers down. “Put her here.”
Remy put her on the bed and checked her pulse. It was on the low side of the normal range for a woman of Violet’s age. He needed his bag before he could tell more.
Clay burst into the room with Remy’s medical bag. “How is she?”