Chapter Twenty-Six

“This is my bedroom,” Kate told Isra. The cat was lying on the windowsill, back pressed against the glass. A gentle rumble emanated from her. Kate picked up a book from the floor next to her bed, placed it on the covers. “I thought we had boundaries. Our own spaces. Is nothing sacred anymore?”

Kate looked out the window. She ran a hand over the cat’s back, feeling the warmth of fur against her skin. “You do like to be near people, don’t you?”

Stars, hundreds of them, in the sky. The orchard lit silver. Kate rested her elbows on the sill and looked out. The wet gleam of fruit on the ground, the rough texture of bark had her thinking of folklore and woodland creatures. Of poems about weaving olden dances beneath the moonlight, mingling hands and glances. The heat of the kiss last night still pulsing beneath her skin.

A red glow rose in the air, a slow arc. Small. And real. Not a glow-worm. It was the wrong time of year; the light amber and too steady. The longer she looked, a dark figure began to take shape. A man. There, in between the trees. Staring at the house.

Kate’s chest tightened on a surge of fear. She could see him more clearly now. The man raised the cigarette to his mouth. Smoke curled upward. Face like black marble from that distance. Deep-set eyes and sharp angles. If she didn’t know any better, he looked an awful lot like the man she’d sold Laughter In The Dark to. But why would he be standing outside their house?

Could he see her?

Unhurried, the man stood facing the house, and smoked.

Kate opened the window, letting in the singed scent of tobacco, herbs, and damp leaves. Isra straightened, claws digging into the sill, leaving notches in the wood. Kate took a breath. “This is private property!” How far away was he? Hard to judge the distance in the dark, branches shifting, clusters of stars.

The cigarette fell, or was dropped. Flash of sparks. Red glow on the ground, then that was gone too. The stub crushed into the earth. A cloud passed overhead, sending the orchard into darkness.

He was gone.

Kate made her voice loud and strong, quashing her fear, “I know you’re out there! Leave now, or I’ll call the police.” She waited and listened, her heart loud in her ears. She’d left her cell phone in her purse. Out of reach now, in the living room. Kate thought of matches, of all those trees and what one flame could do, unchecked.

Wind moved through the branches, wood striking wood. Grass rustled beneath her window. Isra sat beside her, every muscle coiled and strung taught.

Spirit or mortal? Did it matter?

Anger coursed through her. Kate closed the window, locked it. The bolt on the front door, she’d check that, too, before going to bed.

Why would he stand there, late at night, looking at the house?

Tomorrow, she’d look for the footprints. The earth was soft. They’d be easy to spot. She’d stand there and follow the angle of sight. Then she’d know what he was looking at. She’d figure out what he wanted. Why he was there.

****

“Okay, what books have you been reading?” Marcus asked.

“I admit it sounds farfetched, but I’m serious.” The noise level in the pub was rising steadily. Kate was sitting elbow to elbow with Marcus, so they could talk to each other without shouting. “He looked exactly like that customer. The one who told the kids they should kill someone if they wanted to find a corpse. He was watching the back of the house.”

Elaina was tapping drinks and mixing cocktails, her hair twisted up in a ponytail, though most of it had escaped in loose curls. With her almost-black lipstick she looked like a modern film noir goddess. Ian lounged on a stool at the other end of the dark mahogany counter and spoke to her whenever there was a break in orders. They seemed to be getting along better, though having Ian there was a gutsy move. One of Elaina’s past conquests could stroll through the door at any minute.

“I found the footprints this morning. Before the rain.” Kate took a sip of her wine.

Marcus delicately swirled the olive in his martini before popping it into his mouth. “They’re bound to be washed away now.” Marcus looked down at his glass thoughtfully. “Elaina normally mixes a bloody decent martini, but it tastes ever so slightly off tonight.” He rolled a sip across his tongue. “There’s an inexplicable dash too much vermouth.” He set the glass down and pushed it away from him. “On second thought, perhaps not so inexplicable. The charms of a carefree drifter can be distracting, even for the most hardened of bartenders. In fact, maybe the man you saw in the orchard was Ian. We all know how your imagination leaps to conclusions. Maybe there’s a simpler answer.”

“Why would he be out there at night?” Ian was laughing at something Elaina had said, looking like someone who didn’t have a care in the world. She couldn’t see Elaina kicking him out, not with the way they were looking at each other tonight. She could practically see the sparks flying.

“Maybe he ran out to sneak a fag. Ducking beneath the trees to satisfy his cravings. Remember, Roselyn Marsh quite wisely doesn’t allow smoke in the house, only in the tower, to prevent nicotine stains on the wallpaper. Perhaps Ian didn’t feel like running up those stairs, a sentiment I can identify with.”

Loud laughter exploded in one of the booths. “What, and he was blind and deaf? He would have said something when I shouted. It wasn’t him, Marcus. I’ll ask later, but it’ll only confirm what I already know.”

“Look, don’t worry Kate.” He tugged on her hair. “I could meet you tomorrow after work, help you close up, walk you to your car.”

“Marcus.” She looked at him with pity in her eyes. Reached over and gave his bicep a squeeze, then shook her head sadly. “I just don’t think it would do much good.”

“I haven’t been to the gym lately.”

“You’re flexing now. And yet, it’s not doing much.” She tweaked the muscle.

“When did you become so cold? I can be threatening.”

“‘Course you can.” Kate grinned. “Since you’re so full of answers tonight, what do you make of that picture I found on Mr. Wendell’s laptop?”

“A budding Mario Testino,” Marcus deadpanned. “Stellar work. One can see why he purchased a high-resolution camera. Money well spent. We now know he wasn’t using the camera to photograph the flight path of the aquatic warbler. He seems to have preferred portraiture to nature photography.”

“You’ve been rehearsing that speech, haven’t you?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“The question is, why did he take that picture?”

“Insatiable curiosity. Or an accident. I don’t know how many times I’ve photographed the inside of my own pocket.”

A commotion at the entrance of the pub caught their attention.

“Hey! Watch it, woman!” An angry voice exclaimed.

Penelope parted the crowd with her cane. She limped to the counter, wellies squeaking over the floor with each step, every now and then accompanied by the crunch of a peanut shell ground beneath her heel. She pushed between Kate and the man beside her, knocking his nose into his drink, and slammed her open hand onto the counter. “Scotch! An’ be quick aboot it.”

Elaina rolled her eyes and continued mixing the last order. “You’re going to have to wait like everyone else, Penelope. I only have two hands and so much patience.”

“Fine then. I’ll wait. If room can be foun’ tae wait in.” She frowned at the little man next to her and prodded him with the handle of her cane, like rags she’d found in the street. “You. Move over.”

He set his glass down and scowled. The dome of his head was pink and shiny beneath the ceiling light. Slowly, he slid his three-legged stool over, a fraction of an inch.

“More.”

“Madam,” the man rebelled, “we’d all like more space, but there simply isn’t any to be had.” He hunched his shoulders, adopted a defensive posture, held onto his glass with both hands and ignored her.

“No respect.” Penelope sniffed and leaned an elbow against the bar. She slanted a glance at Kate out of the corner of her eye. Lowered her voice, “Ye thought this was finished, but ye thought wrang. This story’ll fester until it’s been aired.”

“Are you still on about Mr. Wendell? There’s nothing to tell. He died of a heart attack.”

“There’s mair to it than that. Ye cannae hide it. There was someone in the orchard. That man from the security company, he says I don’t know what I saw, but it’s a fair way from here to the day I can’t be trustin’ me own eyes.”

“You saw someone in our orchard?” Kate exchanged a glance with Marcus.

“Maybe it wasn’t Ian you saw, after all,” Marcus murmured.

“When?” Kate asked.

“A night or two before the deith.” Penelope brushed beads of water from her sleeve. “And the night of the deith.”

“How would you know that?” The hedge was high, the orchard sheltered from view. Or so she thought.

“The mind plays tricks on us, he said. But not on mine.”

Kate struggled to keep up. “Who said that?”

“Fenris. Like the monstrous wolf in mythology.”

“Scotch, neat,” Elaina called, shooting the glass down the length of the slick wood. Penelope caught it with one arthritis-twisted hand.

“You told Gary Fenris someone was at our house?” A knot of unease tightened in Kate’s stomach. “He never said anything to me about it.”

“He wouldn’t want tae, would he noo?” Penelope held her glass to the light and eyed it. “Och, well, Wendell was one for the cards. It’s no surprise, he came to an early deith. They say he couldnae pay what he owed.”

“Do you have nothing better to do than spread tall tales and gossip?”

Outrage curled orange-painted lips. “Gossip?”

Marcus tugged on the back of Kate’s top, in warning. “Kate,” he murmured in her ear. “I wouldn’t do that, love.”

She shook him off. “How do you come up with these stories, these so-called legends? First The Eternal Wife, now you’re saying Wendell had a gambling addiction. It’s enough! You think Roselyn Marsh has too much. The house, the money. You think love everlasting is an outdated notion. You say she’s setting a bad example for young women. You say, look at her, she can’t let go. She’s living in the past, loyal and devoted to a dead man.”

Marcus gave up. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“It’s about time I said something, Marcus.”

Penelope tossed the liquor back. She grimaced at the bite of the alcohol, then leaned toward Kate until they were almost nose to nose. “Donna you go shootin’ yer sass aboot, lass.”

Kate could count the flecks of dry skin beneath the layer of glistening orange. “Why are you so bitter when it comes to my great-aunt? Are you so jealous of her that you have to get all of Willowsend to slander her?”

“Jealous?” Penelope laughed. “O’ the widow? Noo. I’m no jealous,” she sneered.

“How can you call someone something that constantly reminds them of their grief? She loved her husband. What’s wrong with that? You don’t know how much hurt words can cause. I want you to stop.”

“Ye think she’s callit tha’ because she mourns her husband?” Penelope snorted, slapped coins onto the counter. “Girlie, ye’ve go’ a lo’ tae learn.” Penelope pushed herself away from the bar and leaned her weight upon the cane. “I may ha’ been the yin to star’ callin’ her that, but I wasna the last. There’s a reason the name caught on, and it’s no tae do wi’ jealousy. Ye’re a smart girl wi’ yer books an’ big words. Figure it oot yersel’.”

“What makes you so much better than her?”

“I ne’er surrendered my life for anyone else’s.” Penelope limped forward toward the door. “Why is she the Eternal Wife?” she asked over her shoulder. “When ye know, ye’ll be callin’ her the Eternal Wife yersel’. Ye’ll see. There’s a reason for everythin’, especially an eternally perfect wife.”

“How dare she?” Kate seethed. “I’d never call someone that.”

His hand closed over hers, squeezed lightly. “People get envious.”

“Great-aunt Roselyn is remembering less, Marcus. She forgets, looks for the dead in the next room. Comes back confused. There’s nothing I can do about that, but this is different. She knows what people are saying and it torments her.”

“You can’t fix everything. Maybe it’s time to get some distance. Find your own place and visit her on the weekends.”

Kate pulled her hand away. “Weren’t you listening? It’s getting worse.”

“You’ve lived there for two years, Kate. It’s more than anyone could ask for.”

“I can’t just leave her there alone.”

“Because it’s safe for you there.”

“Apparently it’s not that safe.”

“You’re putting your own life on hold. Before it was just books, now it’s that house. You were waiting for Prince Charming then, turning everyone else down. Now you’re still safe in that castle.”

“I went on a date with Gary.”

“Right, and you kissed, so what’s next? He’ll cut away the brambles and thorns and rescue you, give you that happy ever after? It’s time to wake up. That perfect meeting of hearts, minds, and souls—it doesn’t happen in real life. You have to take the sword into your own hands.”

“You’ve got some nerve, Marcus, lecturing me when you set the bar so low. All you want is for a man to be easy on the eyes and have the ability to order a decent bloody bottle of wine.”

“And you won’t settle for anything less than the stars in the sky.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Marcus downed his glass. “I love you, but you’re living in a fairy tale world. You need to escape while you still have the chance, before that hour of disenchantment comes, or reality is going to break your heart.” He levelled his gaze at her. “I don’t want to pick up the pieces when it happens. Get out now, Kate. Leave that house and you might be free. The easy route isn’t the way to go.”

The wine swam in her blood. “The easy route? Who are you to judge me? You still haven’t told your father that you’re gay. I never thought I’d say this, Marcus, but you’re no better than the people who call Great-aunt Roselyn the Eternal Wife. Why do you and Ian both think the house is like Sleeping Beauty’s castle? It’s just a house.” Kate picked up her purse, her jacket. “And I’m not leaving. I like it there. I don’t need to be rescued, and I certainly don’t want you to try, which is exactly what you’re doing right now. So back off. Where did you ever get the idea that I wanted a knight in shining armor to change my life? It’s exactly the way I want it.”

“Kate.” Marcus stood. They looked at each other. He sighed and shook his head in frustration.

Kate turned her back on him and walked out of the pub.

He was worried about her heart? Well, it was a lot tougher than he thought.