Tranquility (Turbulence Series Part Two), page 22
“Until…?” she prompted because clearly in one area, that pushback had ceased.
“I gave her an ultimatum in the wee hours, I suppose you could say. I didn’t think it would lead to what it did, but it did.”
“Ultimatum? Really, you’re becoming as reticent as she,” Evie pointed out.
“I’d returned her passport to her last night,” he said. “We both woke before dawn; she was wanting a do-over of that morning, was ready to tell me about the mark on her abdomen, but I repeated something Jasper had said, telling her it wasn’t a punishment. And she closed down again. I told her she needed to decide if she wanted a do-over or to leave. She said she didn’t want to be here, but she didn’t want to leave me.
“Then this morning…” He smiled at the memory. “We just… we were us again.”
Evie nodded. She picked up her tea and sipped it. When she set it down, she asked, “I don’t suppose there’s a way to get Brit into Lis Manor?”
“She won’t step foot inside with the others there.”
“Can you request that they… I don’t know, take a drive somewhere?”
“You want me to kick my parents out?”
Evie added meaningfully, “And Mrs. Dunne. God knows we don’t need her creeping around.”
“Why do you need the manor? I can order down food; I was planning on feeding you anyway. Brit requested something for you other than squab.”
Evie laughed. “She doesn’t realize we do like our squab.”
“Americans.” Sean joined her in the humor.
“No, I want her to say goodbye.”
Sean frowned. “Goodbye to whom?”
“Jasper. Don’t you think it’s time?”
Chapter twenty-five
BRIT
Brit watched Evie’s brightness disappear into the trees. She sipped the coffee Evie had been kind enough to bring her (a bribe intended to get her to agree to an invitation for lunch, which she declined). Looking out over the water again, Brit remembered that there used to be swans here. She wondered if she’d see them again before she left.
She left the dock, wandering along the trail, trying not to think too hard about what Sean might have heard from Jasper: what he believed, what he was discarding. She knew Sean well enough to know that he wouldn’t take to heart everything he’d been told.
She also knew him well enough to know that while he’d be hopeful in hearing other words, he’d also take the blame on himself for harm done to her because of her feelings for him.
She needed to lock everything down. She needed to stop thinking about that one question everyone obsessively asked her: what are you afraid of? As though they were all fearless specimens of humanity. Wasn’t she a prime example of fearlessness, running into dangerous situations to document the evidence of man’s cruelty against one another for those who couldn’t conquer the fear to do so themselves?
They weren’t challenging her mettle; she knew that. They were referring to her emotions. ‘They’ being Sean.
She was aware of how normal relationships worked when two people loved each other… at least, in theory. It was supposed to be like that tray of bubble bath and champagne Sean had brought into the bathroom that night: love birds, glitter, and silver bells. It was poems and gazing longingly into each other’s eyes and making promises in the dark. But she wasn’t like that; she wasn’t normal. She didn’t even know if she could trust her definition of what love was; love had consistently failed her.
It was ironic that she had pleaded with Jasper using the word. They both should have known that was not a sentiment she was familiar with. But at that moment, they had both believed her sincerity so completely.
Head down, she crossed her arms around the waist as though holding pieces of herself together, the travel mug dangling from one hand under an elbow by the brim. With satisfaction, she noticed that she could grip it that way; the strength in her hands was returning to her.
“Cara, stop!”
Startled, she turned, the mug slipping from her grip; she took two steps back, not sure that she was going to stand her ground. She looked at him for a second and then dropped her gaze as quickly with a maddening flush as she scanned the ground for the mug. She bent down to retrieve it as he approached.
Sean held out his hand. “C’mon.” His tone was gentle but brooked no argument.
Brit straightened, knocking some real and imaginary dirt from the travel mug, her focus on the metallic container as she concentrated on cleaning it to military-level standards. She gave a slight shake of her head. “I’m not going up there.” And I can’t see the look in your eyes right now.
“It’s only lunch.” She saw in her peripheral vision his gesture for her to take his hand.
She looked off in the direction of the manor. “And it’s their home.”
“They aren’t there; they’ve cleared out. We’ve the place to ourselves, us and Evie.” He tilted his head to try to catch her eye; she humored him with a side-eye. “Chef promised he wouldn’t serve squab.”
Brit felt the heat of a blush on her cheeks, her stomach tightening and at the same time flipping, afraid of what she’d see in his eyes if she looked too long.
Sean gave her a puzzled look, lowering his hand. “What’s wrong?”
There was no sign of arrogance, of expectation. He wasn’t looking at her any differently than he had last night. That she knew that he knew was messing with her mind, but he’d known, and he hadn’t called her on it other than the one question he’d allowed her to retreat from last night. Slightly relieved, she gave a brief shake of her head. “Nothing.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “You know I’ve come to not believe you when you say that.” He held out his hand again to her; this time, she took it.
He led her back through the trees toward the manor. She was just a couple of steps behind him, his arm easily swinging backward to accommodate her hesitant pace, his grip warm, sure, and gentle.
Sipping on a low ball, Evie had come to the front door of the manor and was watching their approach.
“Lunch is upstairs in the library,” Sean informed her as they approached. “I didn’t think we needed the formal dining room.”
Brit stayed closer to him, her hand slipping from his and sliding up to grasp his arm just above the elbow. Her gaze darted around to ensure that the older Maddens and Peg Dunne had, indeed, vacated the premises. When Sean mentioned the library, her first thought was possible escape routes if the others came home early.
As they walked through the foyer to the main staircase that curved upward to the second level, then snaked around to curve to a third level to where they would not venture today, Brit remembered that besides these stairs, there were servants’ stairs behind the ballroom. She imagined that they were still used for parties, for the staff to replenish whatever needed replenishing for the guests. She also recalled seeing the tiny fire escapes at either end of the manor; no doubt added once the estate had opened as a business to guests. So, more than one way to exit if needed.
They turned left at the top of the stairs, passing the ballroom, which dominated the second level except for some guest rooms. To the right were Sean and Jasper’s old rooms once they had been older—as well as the library and additional guest rooms to the left—her mother’s room had been this way. As they passed it, Brit glanced up at Sean to avoid looking into the open doorway.
The library was a long room with double doors leading in, tall ceilings, wooden plank floors, wood paneling, and large windows overlooking the front property. A smallish iron-braced hearth was on the interior wall with stacks of turf beside it along with the requisite poker and bellows.
The room smelled of books, leather, wood, and turf; it was the smell of comfort and warmth, and it invited the guest to curl up, relax, and get lost in any of the pages offered. The room was currently filled with the aroma of a richly prepared lunch that was laid out with domed lids on a coffee table in front of a long leather sofa.
Evie quickly claimed the complementing armchair, leaving Sean and Brit to sit on the sofa. He ushered her in ahead of him, so she was, in essence, sitting between the two of them.
Brit indicated the glass of whiskey in Evie’s hand. “Still no?”
“Still no.” He reached forward and removed the domed lids.
“Oh, my,” Evie said, leaning forward. A bowl of mussels with brown bread on the side to sop up the creamy garlic sauce; and roasted pork on a bed of wild mushroom ravioli. She looked up at Sean and teased, “Will you consider a marriage of convenience? I just want round-the-clock access to the chef.”
Sean chuckled. “You may just want to marry the chef and cut out the middle man.”
Evie stabbed a piece of ravioli and popped it in her mouth, making an exaggerated sound of pleasure. “I may just do that; I’ll take a fair crack at it, at least.”
Brit was eyeing her warily; the marriage comment had elicited a rush of jealousy that she hadn’t expected to feel, the need to stake a claim. The suddenness and fierceness of it took her aback, especially when she had no claim to stake. As Evie looked her way, eyes half-mast in a moment of sensory delight as she enjoyed her ravioli, Brit quickly turned her head.
In the act of turning her head away from Evie’s orgasmic expression over the food, Brit noticed that on the side table between the sofa and armchair, next to an ornate silver table lamp, was a stack of three photo albums. Curious, wondering what sort of photos the Maddens would allow out for guests to peruse, Brit reached for one.
“Brit, you want water or tea?” Sean asked, distracting her.
Brit withdrew her hand and looked back at him. “I want wine. But I’ll have tea.”
He shook his head at her, leaning forward to pour hot tea into a china cup for her.
She frowned and picked up her brown bread, sopping up the cream sauce.
In between low moans of pleasure as she tested her food, Evie said, “Brit pointed out that your rooms were up here at one point; yours and Jasper’s. We hadn’t gotten this far the other night… were they…?” She half-turned in her seat to get her bearings, fork sliding shredded pork between red lips.
“Other wing,” Sean offered. “Not much to see now; the rooms were renovated.”
She made another low moan as she chewed, a hand going to her heart, and then she smiled dreamily. After appearing to collect herself, she asked, “So no rummaging around in Jasper’s old room to see how he’d lived as a boy?”
Sean shook his head, eating his fare more circumspectly. “Not that, either; we shared a room downstairs, near Brit, when we were boys. We moved into our rooms up here when we got older.”
“How much older?”
“We were on to thirteen.”
“Teenagers,” Evie commented. “And where are your parents’ rooms, your aunt’s?”
“Third floor,” Sean answered.
Evie appeared shocked. “That’s quite a distance from your children.”
“The apartments are on the third floor,” Sean explained. “And there was the staff.”
“There’s always staff,” Brit said with a slightly mocking tone, her green eyes flashing upward toward Sean. He glanced back in amusement.
“And Maggie’s rooms?”
Brit answered this time, “Across the hall.”
Evie looked at her.
“Everything’s been renovated,” Sean said again.
Evie nodded. “So, in the summers, you would all gather down by the lake. It’s a beautiful lake; I can see why children would be drawn to it. What else did you do? Did you just… go to the lake all the time? Go to school; go to the lake, that sort of thing? My childhood was full of adventures.”
“There were a few adventures.” Sean knocked his leg with Brit’s as though to prompt her, smiling over at her.
Brit wasn’t exactly in the mood to take a walk down memory lane, so she merely raised a brow back at him, although she left her leg next to his, enjoying the heat from him, the thrill that ran through her from even the slightest contact.
“Do you remember the cemetery?”
A ghost of a smile came across her face; she did. She looked up at him, and they shared a moment of time travel for a pleasant reason. He reached out and lightly caressed her cheek before tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear. If they’d been alone, he would have kissed her; the recognition of the look in his eyes had her heart slamming against her chest, her lips parting slightly.
He looked over at Evie. “Occasionally, my parents hosted parties. There was a Halloween party once. Brit was just on to ten; Jasper twelve and I thirteen. We’d been allowed to attend the start of the party, eat a chocolate apple or two, then were sent off to bed.
“We weren’t in the mood to be shucked off like that.” His hand had found its way to Brit’s back, lightly caressing the small of it. His gesture created an avalanche of pleasure. “There’s a cemetery two kilometers down the road; set back, a wee bit grown over. Jasper and I decided to test our bravery and spend the night there; of course, we had to take Brit.”
Brit smiled at the recollection, the added warmth and tingling sensations drawing her out of her introspective mood; it was hard to remain passive when he touched her. “I was the smallest, so they only had to outrun me if any spooks appeared.”
“That probably was a consideration, sure,” Sean laughed. “Jasper’d lifted some soft drinks and food from the kitchen—he was well gifted in the art of thievery and forgery, we should’ve seen the signs of a life of crime back then—and I put a coat on Brit, took our coats, and sneaked out through the bedroom window.
“We walked in the dark to the cemetery and stood on the edge for some time, just looking in.”
Brit nodded. “We were scared.”
“But not one of us was brave enough to chicken out in front of the others.”
“So I got to go first,” Brit said. “They told me to pick the spot where I’d feel most comfortable.”
Evie shook her head at Sean. “You sacrificed the little girl.”
Sean made a face of amused contrition. “We didn’t think anything bad would happen to her.”
“I didn’t want to look like a scaredy-cat, and I wanted to impress them, so I marched in. But I was scared. I picked a spot under the tallest Celtic cross, thinking no ghost would come near a cross.” She offered a soft, self-deprecating laugh.
“She did, and since she did, we had to follow, sheadh? But once we settled and ate our cakes and drank our soda water, the adrenaline started to wear off, and our eyes adjusted, so we weren’t scared anymore. And nothing horrible had happened to that point. Jasper and I were fine; our coats were thick and heavy, but Brit was beginning to shake. Her coat wasn’t so thick as ours. We tried huddling together, but we weren’t enough to keep her warm.”
“So you gave up and went back,” Evie predicted. “Your bravery had been tested, and that was that.”
Brit shook her head, smiling softly up at Sean. “No, we stayed. Sean decided that he would walk back to the manor to get a blanket. While he was gone, Jasper unzipped his coat and tried to wrap me in it with him.” Her expression was wistful with the remembrance. “Jasper tried to keep my mind off of how cold I was with telling me stupid stories that I don’t remember… I wish I remembered.”
She dropped her head; her chin trembled as she fought back the tears at the memory—it was a good memory; the other two were quiet. After a moment, she continued, “We didn’t move from the spot, leaning back against the cross until Sean came back.” She looked at Evie. “We probably shouldn’t have been leaning against cold concrete, but what did we know?”
Sean’s caress on her back was steady; comforting, and he picked up when she stopped. “They were both near to freezing when I got back, so we moved to the grass, laying down with Brit between us, the blanket over us—over our heads; it was a wool blanket, warmed us right up.”
Brit smiled at remembering the warmth of being surrounded by her boys, both of them trying to take care of her; she’d lain on her side facing Sean, tucked into him while Jasper had lain pressed against her back. It had been the perfect cocoon; three unprepared little adventurers trying to comfort one another on a cold Halloween night. “It was probably the best night's sleep I’d had to that point,” she said reflectively.
“We’d been eejits, and lucky it hadn’t rained,” Sean declared. “And doubly lucky we made it back to the house before anyone noticed we’d been gone.” He didn’t have to say, especially Brit.
Evie smiled. “Did you go back there again?”
“You know, we didn’t.” Sean dipped his bread.
Evie looked over at the side table, as well, at the photo albums. “Are these your family’s albums?”
Sean looked. “They are, sure.”
Evie took one up, balancing the large album on her lap while managing to spear food and bring it to her lips masterfully; small noises of appreciation still escaping her as she ate. She flipped through the thick pages, moving past some more quickly than others. She paused. “Is this…?” With one hand, she angled up the album toward Sean and Brit. “Is this Maggie?”
At the question, Brit looked pointedly away from the album.
Sean leaned forward, his arm now going around Brit’s waist, pulling her protectively toward him as he did so; she leaned in. He tilted his head as the album was upside down for him.
“It is,” Sean answered.
Brit looked up at Sean to keep herself from looking at the picture. His gaze shifted to her, and he gave her a quick, reassuring smile.
“How old?” she asked.
“I was on to ten; she was seven. They came in the spring.” He gave Brit another smile. “She’d wormed her way in with Jasper and me by then, she had.”
Brit smiled back. Now she had to look, wondering which one they were talking about. The photograph had several people: his parents, Jasper’s father, himself, Jasper, Maggie on a lucid day, and Brit.
All were by the dolphin fountain, having tea. The adults were sitting around a small white iron table having their tea. Brit and Sean were behind them, sitting on the edge of the fountain; Brit’s chin pointed downward as she sat on the far side of him, looking at the photographer from hooded eyes. Sean’s hand was on her knee. Jasper was standing next to them, a look of amused exasperation on his face.
