by K S Logan
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“How dare she!” fumed Morvin. Keaton’s nose was fine, not broken, thank goodness, but he was hurt emotionally by that meddling bitch.
Morvin headed to her sanctuary. The one place where nothing could touch her, nothing could hurt her. As soon as she walked through the gate, she instantly felt better. She had always found peace with her plants. They didn’t argue or even have an opinion. They were grateful for all they received, rewarding you with flowers, food, and beauty. They didn’t try to outdo you, and they didn’t judge or disappoint; they just were. And she adored them all.
Morvin knelt before one of the bordering plants. She began extracting some small weeds from her grand bed of Lavandula angustifolia, also known as English lavender. She tried to relax and enjoy her favorite pastime, but thoughts of Grace kept needling at her mind. Imagine accusing Keaton like that! Lies! Nothing but an absolute pain in the ass liar.
She’s always been like this. Whining to everyone who would listen. ‘Poor me, look at me, help me.’ Sickening. Grace had everyone fooled, especially their father, always sitting on his knee, giggling away...disgusting.
Everything changed for Morvin after Grace had been born. They all fussed non-stop after her because of her gimpy arm. It was like Morvin didn’t even exist to them anymore. She had tried to be kind to the little freak, but all that crying and all that demanding of everyone’s attention was unbearable. And then that one night...that had been it for Morvin. All she did was stick out her foot, and it was an accident. Stupid Grace was always falling anyway, but father had lost it.
“That’s the last straw!” he yelled. “I’m sending you away so that you can’t hurt Grace any longer.”
Mother begged him not to do it, pleaded with him. But his mind was made up, he’d said. He even said he was afraid she was going to kill Grace eventually! Imagine! Why couldn’t he see that this was all Grace’s fault and that she was playing everyone?
Morvin began pulling on a particularly stubborn weed. “Just who the hell does she think she is? Thinks every man wants her, always has.” She was talking to herself out loud now, and her voice was steadily getting louder.
She felt her face warm as she gritted her teeth and pulled harder at the invading green culprit. “I will not let her get away with this. We were just fine here without her; meddling, self-righteous, stupid little bitch!” Morvin jabbed at the weed with her sharp fingernails, scratching and clawing at the dirt, sprays of spit flying out from her tight lips.
“Try and mess with me, you stupid, lame little whore. Just try, and I’ll show you.” Morvin grabbed a sharp, metal digging trowel and forcefully stabbed it into the earth, again, again and again. Over and over, she struck the small shovel into the ground, blindly destroying part of her precious lavender plant. Dirt and greenery flew out everywhere around her, her hair dampened around her face with sweat. Her fingers began to bleed with the force of the tiny rocks and roots in the soil.
With one final stabbing motion, she heard something snap. Morvin abruptly stopped her tirade and put the trowel down beside her. She looked at her hand and saw that her pinkie finger was facing the wrong way. She grabbed the finger with her other hand, pulled it, and twisted. Without so much as a whimper, she snapped it back into place.
She sat still for a while, exhausted and breathing heavily. Then she laid down on her back in the wet grass. She lay motionless, staring blankly up at the cloudy sky, oblivious even as a tiny spider ran across her face.
It started to rain after some time, causing Morvin to blink finally, and she brushed the wet strands of hair back from her face. She sat up and patted down the madly disturbed soil then took her tools to the garden shed. She calmly cleaned her trowel, smoothed out her dirty apron and skirt, and then paused in the middle of the room. She had that same blank look on her face as she stood there, unmoving.
A sudden wind picked up outside, blowing the large fir tree by the window. A sharp branch scraped and banged against the glass, and still, Morvin stood there, unflinching, softly breathing. Finally, she turned her head and faced a dark corner.
“Shut up,” she growled. She went about putting her tools away and then, once again, turned to the corner and a little louder this time said, “Shut up!” She stood as if waiting for a response. Then Morvin simply turned and left the shed, not bothering to close the door behind her. She sauntered back toward the house and entered through the back door, expressionless and calm.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
She spent the whole night in her room, venturing out only to visit the small bathroom down the hall and, thankfully, at the opposite end of the house from Morvin’s.
The hallway was cold, dark, and tomb quiet in the middle of the night. Grace used the light of her cell phone to see, which created long, creepy shadows all around her and brought back memories of being frightened just like this as a child. She loved the old house, but it could be downright eerie at night.
On the way back to her room, she felt that same terrifying feeling, as she always did all those years ago, of someone behind her in the long, ominous hall, and she ran the last few feet to her door. Almost twenty years later, and she could still practically feel the icy fingers of some angry spirit or ghoul about to touch her shoulder.
Once back under the safety of her covers, she felt rather silly at her behavior. However, it still took quite some time for her heart rate to return to normal and for the fine hairs on the back of her neck to settle.
She endured another fitful night and, at the predawn hour of 6:00 a.m., decided to give up on sleep and got out of bed. An early morning walk might do her some good, she thought. So she dressed warmly and went to grab her cell from the nightstand. It wasn’t there. Didn’t she just use it last night? Thinking it would probably turn up later, she slinked out the kitchen door, trying to avoid running into anyone.
Grace walked in the light rain, trying to organize her thoughts. So much was going on here. How could she make sense of it all? Morvin, a murderer? Maybe it was possible. Keaton, a rapist? Totally possible. Just the thought of him and their encounter made her shiver.
She wandered the grounds of the estate in deep thought, not paying much attention to where she was going. She eventually found herself down by the old swimming pool, long since emptied and no longer in use; now just a worn, empty, concrete space in the ground. This spot was where, finally, someone else saw Morvin’s deep hatred for her.
She vividly remembered the horrible fright she got that day and could still taste the chlorine, feel it burning the back of her nose and throat as she frantically gasped for air. Old Wilson’s weathered, worried face looked down at her while she vomited up a gallon of pool water. And Morvin’s stone-faced expression watching her as she panicked, fighting to stay afloat in the deep pool. She remembered that terrifying feeling of there being no solid ground under her feet, sinking, panicking, dying.
Grace’s mother had come running out of the house after Wilson had jumped in and saved her. The old groundskeeper began to explain that he had heard the splashing from over the hedge and had come to check it out. He declared how Grace had been thrashing and struggling, drowning in the deep end of the pool, while Morvin stood, watching from the shallows, doing nothing to save her.
“Why would you do that?” he asked Morvin angrily. “You know your sister can’t swim with her bad arm. Why didn’t you try and help her?”
“How dare you!” exclaimed Grace’s mother. “You are seriously out of line, Mr. Yates, and I will not have you lying about my children. Let go of Grace this instant.” Her mother grabbed Grace out of his arms. She demanded that Wilson, their loyal and friendly groundskeeper, in their employ since Grace could remember, leave immediately and not return.
Grace had been sad that Wilson was gone. She missed running into him when she was playing in the yard. He would make her laugh with one of his silly jokes and then reach a gnarled, scarred hand into his tweed jacket pocket and pull out a foil-wrapped Mint Im
perial. He always had those mints.
Why had Morvin hated her so much? It had taken a long time for Grace to realize that it was nothing she had done to deserve such torment and ill-treatment over so many years. She had merely been born, and that was enough.
A sudden crack of thunder brought Grace back from her memories. Rain began teeming down on her. She turned to head back to the house when she noticed a figure in the mist about twenty yards away. The long shadows of the early morning made the unkempt grounds appear sinister. She wasn’t sure if her eyes were playing tricks or if someone was there watching her. The rain splattered her face as she squinted into the gloom. It looked like the same shape, the same hooded person from when she’d first arrived. The two stood there frozen, looking at each other, his face obscured by the misty downpour predawn light. Then, suddenly, he sprung at her, full tilt, running.
Grace gasped and ran into the back garden with the hope of losing him in some overgrown rhododendrons. The bushes were so massive you couldn’t tell where one ended and another began. She tried to navigate without falling over the thick stumps and tangled branches. Panic was quickly setting in though, and a frantic pace was taking over. Her foot jammed under an upturned root, and Grace went down hard, smashing her head on something sticking up out of the ground. She tried to ignore the flash of brilliant pain and struggled back to her feet. Branches scraped her arms and face. She was too terrified to look behind her.
Is it Keaton trying to scare me? But the figure looked huskier than him. She thought about stopping and just confronting him, standing her ground. But the closing sound of his thundering footfalls and his hulking body smashing through the thick brambles made her keep moving.
One of the thick branches snagged Grace’s sweater. She struggled and pulled at it, but it had her firmly in its gnarly grasp. She managed to finally wriggle herself free just as a large hand reached out to grab her. She screamed and bent down, evading his clutches and ran with a fresh burst of adrenaline.
Suddenly free of the rhododendrons and in a clearing, she could see the ancient estate graveyard just ahead. Not risking a glance behind her, she tore through the iron archway and weaved in and out among the old tombstones. Large droplets of rain fell, and darkness closed in, the latter brought on quickly by heavy black clouds and foggy mist. A strong wind began to blow.
Grace was far from the house now; she hadn’t been in the cemetery for so long she’d almost forgotten it existed. Along with some of Grace’s ancestors were the ancient graves of the Craigrook family that built and lived at the estate long before the Calhouns. Some of the graves dated back as far as the 1600s. Many of the large headstones had all but disappeared into the earth after so many years.
Grace was out of breath. She knew she had to stop soon. Her clothes were becoming heavy with rain, and she couldn’t keep up this pace much longer. Blood trickled into her eye from the gash in her forehead. She weaved through a few more tombstones and statues. She ducked behind a large granite headstone that had managed to remain somewhat erect in the many years of earth movement and erosion.
She crouched, listened, and tried to slow her breath without gasping loudly. The din of increasing wind and pelting rain helped to mask her heavy breathing. She couldn’t hear any footsteps or any human movement. Maybe she’d managed to lose him. Grace didn’t want to risk peeking over the headstone. Just wait a while, she told herself. Be quiet, and catch your breath.
She didn’t know how much time had passed; it felt like a good ten minutes. Her legs were getting tingly from staying in the crouch position, but she was still too afraid to make any movement. She had to move them soon though, to get some blood flow. Without much noise, she managed to get down on her knees. She couldn’t stay out here all day in this weather. The freezing gale cut right through her.
Grace wiped at the blood on her face. She was bleeding heavily.
Is he still out there? Maybe he gave up and left. Or he’s trying to outwait me, waiting for me to make the first move.
She searched the ground for a stick or a rock, something to use as a weapon. Her vision blurred from rain and blood. Is that a rock? Grace reached in front of her and grabbed hold of the object. It began to wriggle in her fingers as she realized it was a huge spider. Her gaze traveled up her arm; her skin was moving. She screamed and got up, wiping away at the hundreds of spiders crawling all over her!
She was running backward and just about fell as her foot sunk into the uneven ground all around her. She managed to stay upright, still screaming and frantically rubbing at herself and shaking out her hair.
She turned around abruptly and ran head first right into his hard, broad chest. In the throes of fear and panic Grace flailed in all directions, punching, hitting, and screaming!
“Leave me alone, you bastard! What the hell do you want from me?”
He tried to hold back her flying fists. “Grace! Grace, stop. Stop, it’s me. It’s Cameron.”
“What?” She stopped, opened her eyes. “Oh my god, Cameron.” She fell into his arms. “Someone was chasing me. Did you see him?” Then she remembered, and yelled, “Do I have spiders on me?” She danced around in front of him, turning in circles.
“No. No, I don’t see anything. Who was chasing you? You’re bleeding. Come on. We’re pretty close to my place. It’s just over that ridge.”
Her legs shook, and her chest hurt. Cameron held most of her body weight as they walked. He led her up the hill and eventually ended up carrying her into the warm safety of his cottage.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Here’s a change of clothes. They’re going to be huge on you, but they’re warm, and they’re dry.” He directed her to his bedroom to change while he built a fire in the large inglenook fireplace.
Grace couldn’t stop shivering. As she undressed, she looked around the handsome room. She’d been here once as a child with her father. It was pretty run-down at that time, but in the last few years, new owners had restored it. It was built in the late 1800s, Grace remembered, and it had all the quaint imperfections of the period but with modern plumbing, heating, and lighting.
The red flannel shirt he gave her was soft and smelled like fresh laundry. He had also given her some thermal long johns. These are going to look so flattering, she thought, especially with the hunting socks. She noticed a picture of an attractive woman by his bedside and was surprised to find herself upset that he might be married.
She dried her hair with a towel and went back into the inviting living room, while Cameron took her wet clothes and carted them off to the laundry. Grace heard the comforting sound of a dryer begin tumbling. The cottage had a profoundly soothing, cozy ambiance.
“Who’s this handsome man?” she asked, as a gorgeous yellow Lab wiggled over to her and introduced himself. He followed her to the fireplace, which was already thoroughly warming the room. She knelt by the hearth and petted the dog, who wagged his tail with enthusiasm.
“This is Piper, my best mate,” he said, rubbing the big dog’s ears. “And Piper, this is Grace, the beautiful woman I told you about.”
Grace felt her face warm. This man was so charming.
“Have a seat by the fire, then, and I’ll make you nice hot cuppa.”
“Tea would be amazing. Thank you, Cameron.” Grace sat down in the puffy recliner in front of the fire. On the table beside it was a pair of reading glasses and an Ian Rankin novel. The fire crackled and sparked, giving the room a glowing warmth. “You could serve dinner in this fireplace. It’s stunning.”
From the kitchen, he replied, “Aye, I think it’s my favorite aspect of the old place.”
Cameron came back into the room and covered her lap with a thick, wool tartan blanket. He had a wet cloth in his hands.
“Tea’s brewing. Let’s take a look at that forehead,” he said, as he leaned over her. “Bleeding has slowed down, thank goodness.” He dabbed gently at her wound. She drew a little breath through her teeth and winced.
“Sorry, lass,
but it’ll have to be cleaned and dressed.” He looked into her eyes, and she saw kindness in his that turned her heart to jelly. He smelled so good, like Christmas, comforting, clean, and warm. She felt a sudden urge to run her fingers through his brown, wavy hair as he looked down and adjusted the cloth.
“What happened out there, Grace? Who was after ye?”
She could listen to him say ‘Grrrace’ all day long. “I don’t know who it was. It’s the same hooded person that scared me the evening I arrived at Craighouse. I do know it’s not my nephew. This man is way bigger. And I can handle that skinny Keaton.”
He left the room to get the tea, talking as he went. “Well, it sounds like you’re in danger to me.”
“I think someone’s just trying to scare me. I definitely won’t be going outside by myself anymore though, that’s for sure.”
Piper laid down right on top of Grace’s feet and looked up at her with big, brown eyes. Okay, thought Grace, I’m officially a sucker for the both of you.
“Here we are,” he said. “A tray of hot tea and biscuits for two.” He placed the tray on the coffee table. “Are you a sweet and white or just sweet,” he chuckled. “Well, I already know you’re very sweet.” He winked at her.
He had a cute grin, with amazing dimples and eyes that smiled. He had a muscular build but was lean and quite tall.
“Just milk, please. I truly appreciate all this, Cameron. I hope I’m not too much of an inconvenience.”
He handed her the tea and offered a cookie. “You’re a much-needed distraction today. I’m a little stalled with the novel for some reason. Piper seems to have accepted your presence with no hesitation at all. Look at him. He’s in love we ye already.”
She looked down at the dog, and he thumped his tail on the floor in agreement. “I think I’m in love with him too.” She cleared her throat a little, feeling a bit uneasy after her comment, and sipped her tea. It tasted heavenly, just what she needed.
