One Last Touch, page 6
“Are you going to lie in bed all day?”
I shrieked, my head jolting sharply down from where I’d been gazing up at the wooden beams in the ceiling to find Sage reclining on the end of my bed as if he owned the place.
“What are you doing in here?” I threw a pillow at him and he caught it, placing it behind his back as he leaned against one of the wooden poles. “Haven’t you heard of knocking?”
“I did,” he said, blinking innocently as I narrowed my eyes at him. I looked at the door—closed. There was no way I wouldn’t have heard it open with the way it creaked. Was I right about the possible passage ways? Did Sage know about them too and had used one to get in my room? “I can literally see the wheels turning behind your eyes right now and I feel like it spells trouble.”
I said nothing, simply waiting him out as he pushed his glasses up his nose slightly.
“Looks like the storm passed, it’s a rotten day out though.”
So he’d come in here to talk about the weather? I scoffed. “Why are you here?”
“Well, I know it’s nearly mid-day but I think it’s still a bit too early for such philosophical discussions. We should wait until you’re appropriately dressed.”
My lip twitched. “I don’t think you can really come into my room and dictate to me what is or isn’t appropriate.”
“Perhaps,” he murmured, his eyes scanning the room and noting the small changes I’d made after being here the past few days. It had almost been a week since I’d arrived at Alswell but in some ways it felt like I’d been here forever. I’d added a small rug to the wooden floor next to my bed and my thick socks were placed on it, so I wouldn’t have to walk on the cold floor as soon as I got out of bed. I’d moved all the long, practical candles out of the way into the corner of the room and the dresser and instead placed scented candles on the desk and my nightstand.
“What are you reading?” He nodded towards the pile of books and I glanced over and froze as I saw the open book was now shut. Was I going mad? I could have sworn it’d been open. I picked it up and inspected it closely for a second, even the familiar smell of dusty pages unable to soothe me. Was this some side effect of all the stress and grief I’d been dealing with lately? Because while it was understandable, I didn’t like the thought of not even knowing myself, not being able to trust in what my eyes were showing me… and last night’s escapades hadn’t helped with that.
“Are we really going to pretend like last night didn’t happen?”
Sage looked directly at me, his hazel eyes back to a more ordinary brown as he stretched his long legs out on the other side of me. “I already told you, the storm—”
“Not the storm,” I growled as I sat up to look at him. “The closet, the footsteps.”
His eyes dipped down and I followed his gaze, blushing as I remembered changing into the lacey vest top before bed. My fleece pyjama top had been soaked in sweat by the time I’d got back to my room so I’d reached for the only PJs I had left that were clean. The strap had slid down my shoulder and I quickly scooped it back up as I pulled the duvet higher. There wasn’t anything wrong with what I was wearing, but the neckline was low and it was more skin than I would normally have on display, especially in front of a guy I’d only really just met who acted like I was the bane of his existence.
Sage cleared his throat but his eyes were warm when he raised them again to meet mine.
“Angie sleep walks.”
“I—What?”
“Angelica. Ms Weathers.” He smirked with a wry glance. “Sometimes she sleepwalks, especially when she’s upset. She’s a very vivid dreamer, you know. Clocked me a couple of times once before when I bumped into her on the stairs, told me the next day she’d been in a boxing match in her dream.”
I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to laugh, or cry, or maybe hit him, I wasn’t sure. This sounded like bullshit. I eyed him suspiciously as I decided to play along. “So why did we hide in the closet?”
He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I didn’t fancy being hit again and figured you wouldn’t much enjoy it either.”
“You are so full of shit.” I pushed back the duvet and swung my legs out of bed, quickly pulling on my socks as I reached for the jumper I’d thrown on the chair in the corner yesterday evening.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to Angelica.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“Sage, you could tell me the sky was blue and I’d be inclined to double check.”
“Well, right now it’s actually grey.”
I scowled at him, running my fingers through my hair. “Get out.”
“I could just wait here for you while you run and check?”
“Get. Out.”
His smile was infuriatingly cocky and only made my frustration grow, something he could clearly tell from the way his grin widened.
He walked past me slowly and I bit my lip as the breeze he left behind carried his scent to me. Most guys drowned themselves in aftershave, not Sage. He smelled like the outdoors, like pine and air and the smokiness of the fire in the kitchen.
“Next time, knock,” I muttered slightly breathlessly as I followed him out and down the stairs to where Ms Weathers was bustling around. Though, I couldn’t work out what she was doing for the life of me, just moving to and fro almost like she was dancing. She stopped once she saw us in the doorway, smiling cheerfully, and I relaxed instantly. She just had that way about her, made you feel like no matter what happened, she would take care of you.
“Morning.” I walked over to the kettle and refilled it before flicking it on and heading to the fridge to find something for brunch.
“Morning love, did you sleep well? I hope the storm didn’t keep you up too much.”
I grabbed the milk for my tea and hunted down a clean mug once the kettle finished rattling. “I slept fine, thanks. How about you?”
I watched her carefully out of the corner of my eye and saw the almost imperceptible look she sent to Sage and his slight nod in return. “Oh, I woke up in the middle of the kitchen this morning so I think I must have been wandering again last night.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or insulted that they thought I was so stupid. “Oh really? I suppose that explains the footsteps I heard last night then.”
“Yes, dear,” she said softly.
The steam obscured my view as I looked at Sage over the top of my mug as I took a burning-hot sip. Breakfast would have to wait. I needed to get into that suite now and check for any way someone could have left the room without me seeing them.
“There go those wheels again.” Sage sighed as I brushed past him with my tea in hand and a glare before I stopped in the doorway.
“Oh, that reminds me. When the police came after… after they found her, did they search the whole property?”
“Oh, yes, dear. Why?”
“Just curious.” I smiled and Ms Weathers smiled back, though her hands twisted together in front of her.
I drank my tea as I got ready. Not quite trusting the shower yet, I had a quick wash and then brushed my teeth once I’d drained my mug. Sage might be a liar, but he wasn’t wrong. It was absolutely rotten outside but I could see him out there, standing in the waist-high grass and looking at the forest. He turned to my window and I backed away smoothly, if he was preoccupied out there then that was all the better for me.
I left my mug on the desk with the one I’d brought up yesterday afternoon and headed up the stairs to the master suite, retracing my steps from last night.
Despite all the dusting I’d already done, it still seemed to drift in the air with a staleness that was exhausting. Maybe the rain last night had stirred it all up again, the wind blowing through the cracks of the old house and making my cleaning a wasted effort. I couldn’t help wondering what the house might have been like twenty-years ago when it had been well-maintained. When my mother had still lived here.
The red-runners in the corridor kept my footsteps quiet as I ran a hand against the faded wallpaper, my fingertips skipping over the seams with ease as I tried to picture my childhood here in Alswell instead of with my mum, moving around from county to county. Would I have been happy here? Would we have been a family? Me, my mum, and my father? Filled this place with a light and laughter that would have sunk into the foundations instead of the rot that was undoubtedly there now?
The door opened as easily today as it had yesterday and nothing looked noticeably different. It was a large room with a deep vanity taking up a lot of the wall on the side of the room furthest from the door. Small glass bottles dotted the surface as well as a hand-held mirror that looked antique. I ran my fingertips over the handle and looked up into the mirror sharply, like I’d expected someone to be standing behind me. Obviously that was just skittishness and paranoia shining through from yesterday night but it still took a moment for my heart to resume its usual rhythm.
There was a photo wedged into the frame of the mirror and I carefully prised it free and brought it closer to my face, my breath leaving me in a whoosh that made me feel like I was choking. It was my mother. Natalia Cole, or, as I supposed she must have been in this photo, Natalia Alswell. She was smiling, beaming really, her eyes practically sparkled and the man beside her had the soft kind of smile you only saw on the faces of people in the full throes of love.
Remembering how my mum had always labelled her photos, I turned it over with shaking hands and bit my lip against the tears that wanted to spill as I saw the names written there—Natalia and Edward Alswell. Obviously I’d known there hadn’t been a mistake, that this was who my mum had once been, that this house had become hers, but it was one thing to know something and another to see the hard evidence of it in front of you.
What happened? I wanted to ask the smiling woman in the picture. Why did you leave? She couldn’t answer me. The only way I would get answers now was by searching this house, these rooms.
I tucked the photograph into the pocket of my jeans and opened each drawer of the vanity methodically, stopping to sniff delicately at the perfumes in the bottles on the top and stroke gently over a hairbrush still entangled with dark strands. Small pieces of her that I’d never known, that had faded long before I’d lost her and found them.
Then I found the second photo, buried in the bottom drawer under what looked like spare linens for the bed, now dusty and in need of a wash. It wasn’t so different from the last, the man was the same and the woman was the same—but her smile seemed stretched thin, her eyes a little too wide, and when I looked closer at the man his smile was less soft and more proprietary. The photo was ripped along its width, their torsos lost, and the edges were jagged and fraying. I turned the photo over but only found my mother’s name, the rest of the caption lost with the remainder of the photo. Why had this been hidden away? And what had changed between the first photo and the second?
After a moment of consideration, I placed the second photo in my pocket with the other and continued searching the room without finding anything else of any real interest. Mostly the space was dominated by books and I couldn’t help wondering if Edward Alswell was the father I’d never known, whether this was the more intangible proof, and I also wished I knew what had happened to him. Obviously, he wasn’t alive or the inheritance would never have passed to me. Was his death what had driven my mum away? I would have to remember to ask Ms Weathers.
I couldn’t see any obvious exits from the room except the one I’d used to enter, but I ran my hands over the walls anyway, searching for a latch or the seam of a secret door. I leaned back against the aged cream wallpaper and sighed. It seemed like a room that had once been pretty. The walls had a blue forget-me-not design that had faded and smudged into a more mottled colour, like the house itself had wept over whatever had transpired here.
I thunked my head back and gasped as the wall moved and I fell backwards into a closet not unlike the one Sage had pulled me into before. There weren’t any other passages that led on from the room, just a small storage space with empty shelves. I sighed as I turned back to the door and pressed on it gently. It didn’t move.
Shit. I pressed harder and still didn’t feel it give. Oh fuck. I couldn’t be stuck in here. Small spaces weren’t my favourite, but I could normally manage fine. Something about being here in this storage space felt different though. The air was heavy and I gasped in frantically as I thundered my hand into the wall entrance to no avail. How had I not noticed it closing? Was there any air in here? I had to assume these places weren’t meant for storing humans, which meant if nobody knew about this space… if I couldn’t get myself out…
I hit the wall where the door should be, feeling the impact all the way up my arm as I hit it relentlessly. Surely it should have opened by now? Unless… had someone deliberately trapped me in here? I sucked in big gulping breaths of air and tried to calm myself by blowing it out of my mouth slowly but the air was broken up by my ragged sobs. I didn’t know where this panic was coming from, it just felt like… I froze, like a rabbit in headlights as I realised what it was that felt off.
It felt like something was in here with me.
A quiet breath hit the air, but it wasn’t mine. My entire body shifted, pressing itself fully against the wall as I pounded on it with both hands, crying and screaming as I felt another breath on the back of my neck. Or was this just my imagination again? What if I was finally breaking under the stress of it all and there had been no breath, no footsteps?
A scuff sounded outside, a murmur of voices that almost sounded like arguing but it was too muffled to tell what they were saying. I slammed my hands harder, more desperately and knew they would be bruised tomorrow if I got out of here. But there was someone there, definitely, I just needed them to—“Let me out! Please! Let me out.” My voice had grown hoarse from the volume of my shouts and I slammed my hands forward again, only to have them hit something solid. I stumbled forward and winced as weak daylight washed over me, trickling in through the window.
I sagged in the arms that held me upright as the shudders racking my body finally stilled. I could breathe, I’d got out. “There was something in there.”
“What?” The deep voice was gentle but familiar, and I blinked my eyes free of the moisture in them as I repeated my words slower.
“There was something in there with me.”
“I’ll check.” I tightened my hands on the jumper they were clutching and hands pried my fingers away as they moved to the closet. “I can’t see anything, are you sure?”
My head felt like it was swimming, everything felt blurry and strange and the room started to sway.
“Whoa.” Sage’s arms caught me as I realised the room wasn’t swaying but I was. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”
I didn’t protest, just let the soothing voice guide me down the stairs and back into a room that smelled like eucalyptus and cotton.
“Here, come on, lay down now.”
I hesitated, spotting the bright white linens and suspecting that I was covered in dirt and tears. “No. I need to…” I gestured to myself and I heard a small sigh that made me jump until a hand squeezed mine briefly.
“You’re okay. Go ahead and shower, then. I won’t let anything hurt you. Don’t take too long though, I don’t want you passing out in there.”
I thought I nodded but I wasn’t sure, my body felt sluggish, like I was travelling through jelly as I stripped off my filthy clothes and stepped into a shower that was, mercifully, hot. I washed as quickly as I could, stopping several times to lean on the wall when the room threatened to become dark again. Then I wrapped myself in a towel and padded over to my bed, climbing in quickly to avoid the cold but still feeling shivers start to wrack my body.
“Better?”
I nodded with a sigh and relaxed further when fingers started to comb through my still-wet hair.
“Sleep.” I frowned, my eyes trying to flutter open, and heard a small laugh as firm hands tucked the covers around me. “Christ, Georgina. Just do as you’re told for once. Sleep. I’ll stay right here. You won’t be alone.”
My fingers loosened on the duvet and the worry seemed to drain out of me as I felt the comforting weight of long legs stretched out opposite mine.
“Sage,” I murmured and felt him fall still.
“Yes?”
My eyes slipped fully shut as I breathed out. “Thank you.”
Chapter Eight
For the next couple of days, I focused on tidying the house while I waited for the local police department to come and check the house out again. It wasn’t an emergency, so they’d told me I might have to wait until a unit had the free time, I’d told them not to worry even as I felt increasingly jumpy walking around the manor. Sage had been notably absent since he’d spent the night with me, so I got a landscaper from the town over to mow the grass and cut back the bushes and it was amazing what a difference it made to the outside of the house. I had planned on doing it myself but the on-site mower had been rusted through and it likely would have taken me an age to use anyway.
Instead, I focused on hoovering up as much dust as physically possible—though it felt like it duplicated at an unfathomable rate. Ms Weathers had offered to help, as the housekeeper, but I’d declined. Mostly because the physical activity stopped my mind from spinning, but also because I wasn’t sure how much I trusted her anymore. Sage had taken care of me, but then he’d vanished without any notice and if his secrets were the reason I had been at risk in the first place…
