The Broken (Echoes from the Past Book 8)

by Shapiro, Irina

  “Come on, you have to eat,” Lauren pleaded with him. “Just a little bit.”

  Billy closed his eyes and went back to sleep, leaving a worried Lauren to eat alone.

  Chapter 3

  Lauren came awake slowly, her thoughts crowding in long before she opened her eyes. Her first concern was for Billy, whose warm body was pressed to her side, his breathing even in sleep. He’d finally eaten a little last night, a hopeful sign, in her opinion. Lauren lay very still, taking a moment to recall exactly where she was and why. A gusty wind blew off the Atlantic, and the house creaked, the wooden walls sighing like an elderly woman pining for her youth. A soft half-light crept toward the bed, its gentle fingers stroking the comforter and caressing Billy’s round bottom.

  Lauren turned toward the window, hoping to watch the sunrise, but the sight that greeted her left her breathless with terror. Her heart pounded in her chest as she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that caught in her throat. She sank deeper into the mattress in order to make herself less visible, but she needn’t have bothered.

  The woman seemed completely unaware of her presence. She sat at the desk, the soft light of dawn illuminating her pale face. Her back was ramrod straight, her hands clasped in her lap, and her troubled gaze fixed on the horizon. A blank sheet of paper lay before her, a quill left forgotten in the inkwell as if she were about to write a letter but had changed her mind. Lauren lifted her head slightly to get a better look at the woman’s profile. She was young, mid-twenties Lauren guessed, and attractive. Her old-fashioned gown was sober, and a modest lace-trimmed cap covered her dark hair. Her only adornment was a necklace, the pendant resting just above the V of her lace tucker. It shimmered in the pearlescent light, the fiery stone reminiscent of an opal.

  Billy raised his head and looked at Lauren, then turned toward the window. She expected him to let out a bark of alarm, or growl at the intruder at the very least, but he rested his head on Lauren’s hip and drifted back to sleep, as if completely unaware of the stranger. He hadn’t seen her or caught her scent because she wasn’t real. She was an apparition, an echo of a time gone by.

  Feeling less frightened, Lauren sat up and leaned against the pillows, watching the woman with interest. After a time, she replaced the paper in a drawer, stood, and turned toward the door. Lauren could have sworn she saw tears in the woman’s eyes as she walked across the room, but with her face turned away from the window, it was difficult to be certain. As the light changed from pearl-gray to salmon pink, the woman’s silhouette grew fainter until she vanished altogether, leaving nothing but an unnatural stillness in her wake.

  Lauren laid a gentle hand on Billy’s head, needing to feel a connection with a living being. He lifted his head and looked at her, his brown gaze clear and alert.

  “Good morning,” Lauren said, but made no move to get up. She was in no rush to start her day. As she watched the sun come up, Lauren reflected on what she’d seen. Had the woman been a figment of her imagination, or had she seen an actual ghost? She didn’t believe in ghosts, but she also didn’t believe that a person simply ceased to exist. Zack was physically gone, but she had often felt his presence, especially for the first few months, and when she spoke to him, sometimes an answer simply dropped into her brain, as if he’d whispered it in her ear rather than saying it out loud. Perhaps it was wishful thinking and she wasn’t ready to let him go, but she had felt him close, especially when she was alone, and when Xavier first brought Billy over, the dog had growled at something, baring his teeth and staring into nothingness. He hadn’t done it since their first week together, so perhaps he’d grown used to Zack’s otherworldly presence, and he seemed oblivious to the woman Lauren had just seen.

  At long last, Lauren got up, took a shower, and dressed in a pair of leggings and a warm sweater. She lifted Billy off the bed and carried him downstairs, where she set him on the floor. He trotted over to his water bowl and drank deeply before turning his attention to his food. It seemed Dr. Kelly had been right, and Billy just needed a little time to recover.

  After taking him out for a wee, Lauren made herself a spinach and cheese omelet and a cup of coffee, then returned upstairs, sitting down at the desk where the woman had sat only an hour before. There was no trace of the letter she’d been writing or the implements, only Lauren’s laptop, which hummed accusingly as soon as she powered it up. She hadn’t done any work in nearly a week and it was time to get started. She was working on an autobiography of a popular reality star whose life was of little interest to Lauren, but it was a job, and she would do it to the best of her ability. Once she finished the project, she’d devote some time to her own writing.

  “How about writing a ghost story?” Zack’s voice whispered in her mind. “You always said you wanted to try a different genre.”

  “I don’t think so,” Lauren replied. “Ghost stories are really not my thing.”

  “Okay, how about a historical romance, then? You used to love reading those. Remember that series you gobbled up about the woman who went back in time to eighteenth-century Scotland? You couldn’t buy those books fast enough.”

  “All right. I’ll think about it,” Lauren replied grudgingly. “Now I must concentrate on my client’s meteoric rise to fame. She wants to devote an entire chapter to Twitter and how a nude selfie she posted went viral.”

  She could almost hear Zack’s chuckle as she pulled out her notes and began to type.

  Chapter 4

  When Lauren took Billy back to the vet on Friday, he got a clean bill of health and nearly leapt off the examining table headfirst in his desire to get away. Dr. Kelly caught him deftly and handed him to Lauren, who held him close, terrified he’d hurt himself again.

  “It’s like having a child,” Dr. Kelly said, correctly interpreting her expression. “You might want to puppy-proof the house. As he gets bigger, he’ll try to climb the stairs and drink from the toilet.”

  “Eww. Gross,” Lauren said, making a face.

  Dr. Kelly shrugged. “That’s what puppies do. Is he your first dog?”

  “Yes.” Zack had wanted to get a dog, but Lauren had argued that their apartment was too small, and they should wait until they bought a house. Her gaze slid toward the photograph of Holland House. “You mentioned that you like history,” she began, instantly wishing she hadn’t said anything.

  “Yes, local history in particular. Why?”

  “I’d like to learn more about Holland House.”

  Dr. Kelly leaned against the examining table and crossed his arms, his head tilted to the side as he considered her request. “Have you experienced something odd?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I’ve been hearing stories about that place since I was a little kid: weird creaking noises, candlelight flickering in the window, the sound of a woman crying… It was the ultimate act of bravery to go there on Halloween,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Are you afraid of ghosts?” The smile broadened into a full-on grin.

  Lauren’s cheeks heated with embarrassment. First, she’d brought up that the house was said to be haunted, and now they were once again speaking of ghosts. She averted her gaze, staring at Billy’s silky head instead, but Dr. Kelly wasn’t fooled by her sudden aloofness.

  “Tell you what. Meet me for a drink, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  Lauren’s head shot up, her eyes opening wide. Was he asking her out? Wasn’t it unethical to fraternize with one’s patients? Well, technically, she wasn’t his patient; Billy was. And what was the harm? She’d spent less than a week in the house alone and already she felt the heavy weight of loneliness pressing down on her restless mind. Getting away and changing her surroundings had seemed like a great idea, but now that she was installed at Holland House, she felt even more lonely and unsettled. She didn’t know anyone in Orleans and wasn’t likely to make new friends if she didn’t come out of her shell, at least once in a while.

  “All right,” she said
, wondering if she was going to regret this. “Where and when?”

  “Tonight? Unless you have big plans for your first Friday night in town.”

  “I don’t.”

  “How about the Blue Fin Bar and Grill? Say, seven? Do you know where it is?”

  “I’ll find it. See you later, Dr. Kelly.”

  “It’s Ryan,” he called after her, making her smile.

  **

  Lauren’s nervousness increased as the afternoon wore on. Why had she agreed to meet Ryan Kelly? She hardly knew him. Just because he was Billy’s veterinarian didn’t mean she should trust him. Maybe he made a pass at all his female clients. And how did he know she was single? Maybe she’d moved into Holland House with her husband and children, she reasoned as she stood in front of the antique wardrobe, looking for something to wear.

  “Wear something pretty,” she heard Zack say. Lauren felt the prickle of tears and turned away from the wardrobe, unnerved. Zack’s spirit was urging her to move on, to open herself up to new experiences, but was it his guilt that prompted this encouragement, or her own need to come to terms with the loss she’d suffered? For the first nine months after his death, she’d felt nothing but impenetrable grief, but her feelings had shifted, going from sadness and hopelessness to anger and hurt. Her mother assured her that she was just going through the stages of grief, but her mother didn’t know the whole story; no one did. She had to work through her feelings on her own, without involving family or friends. Perhaps it was childish to feel ashamed, or misguided to keep their memories of Zack untarnished, but that was what she’d decided to do when she committed to this period of exile. She had a decision to make, and once she knew how she intended to proceed, she’d tell everyone the truth. But not yet. She wasn’t ready to shed light on something she’d kept hidden for the past few months, or to hear everyone’s opinions on the subject. This was between her and Zack, and it would remain that way, at least for now.

  Suddenly upset, Lauren whipped out her phone and dialed Dr. Kelly’s office, hoping it wasn’t too late to cancel, but Merielle’s voice informed her that the office was closed and gave a number to call in case of emergency. It seemed wrong to call the emergency number simply to weasel out of having a drink with the man, so Lauren disconnected the call and turned back to the meager selection of clothes hanging in the wardrobe. She hadn’t brought any of her dressier outfits. She hadn’t worn them in ages, and there had seemed no point in lugging extra clothes when she’d be spending most of her time on her own.

  She finally selected a cashmere V-neck in hunter green and paired it with the black slacks she’d brought along in case she needed to meet with a client. She hadn’t worn any makeup when she saw Dr. Kelly at the office, but some vestige of feminine vanity ushered her into the bathroom, where she applied eyeliner and mascara and dabbed a little lipstick onto her pale lips before releasing her heavy blonde hair from its ponytail.

  The sky was full of stars, and a nearly full moon hung majestically over the inky water of the Atlantic by the time Lauren arrived at the waterfront bar. A part of her desperately wanted to turn around and drive away, but she forced herself to leave the sanctuary of her car and walked up the gravel path toward the door. The dining room was spacious and well lit, with waiters weaving between the tables and the hum of conversation spilling through the open doors, but the bar area was surprisingly intimate. Comfortable armchairs and couches stood grouped around small tables that afforded the perfect view of the moonlit bay, and soft music played in the background.

  Ryan, who’d been occupying one of the armchairs, got to his feet and came over to greet her, giving her a casual peck on the cheek. “You came,” he said unnecessarily.

  “I did,” Lauren replied, suddenly glad she’d overcome her reservations. It’d been a long time since she’d been out, and it felt nice not to be alone on a Friday night. She took the other chair and Ryan summoned the waiter.

  “What will you have?” Ryan asked Lauren.

  “Prosecco, please.”

  “And a glass of Pinot Noir for me,” Ryan said. “Are you hungry? We can get a couple of appetizers.”

  “I’m okay, thanks.”

  “Maybe later,” Ryan said to the waiting waiter. “We’ll start with the drinks.” He leaned back in his armchair and crossed his legs, looking casual and relaxed. He wore a dark-blue button-down shirt, jeans, and a pair of comfortable-looking suede loafers, making Lauren glad she’d decided to change out of her leggings and sweater.

  “You look nice,” he said, smiling shyly.

  “Thank you,” Lauren muttered, disconcerted by his praise. “It’s beautiful,” she said, gazing out over the moonlit bay to distract him from watching her. “The stars never look this bright in Boston. There’s too much light.”

  “The sky probably looked much the same when the first settlers arrived on Cape Cod,” he replied.

  “Have you lived here long?”

  “All my life. My mother’s ancestors settled on Cape Cod in the sixteenth century. The first Hayworth to arrive on these shores was a master builder, and he passed on his skills to future generations. The Hayworths built many of the houses in this area. My paternal great-great-grandparents came here from County Cork in Ireland and settled in Orleans, spawning several generations of fishermen. My dad was the first Kelly to go to college. He taught high school level history. He was the one who got me interested in local lore.”

  “And who got you interested in photography?” Lauren asked with a smile. Was she flirting?

  “My mom, actually. She likes to take pictures. The walls were always covered with family photos and nature shots she’d taken while I was growing up. She especially loves photographing lighthouses.”

  “Did she take that photo of the lighthouse in a storm I saw in your waiting room?”

  “Yes, she did. I love that one. It’s one of her favorites, but she gave it to me as a gift when I opened my own practice.”

  The waiter returned with their drinks, and Lauren took a sip of her Prosecco, nodding in approval. It was delicious. “So, what do you know about Holland House?” she asked, reminding him why they were there.

  “Not much,” Ryan replied, grinning sheepishly. “I invited you out under false pretenses. I just wanted to have a drink with you.”

  “Do you have drinks with all your clients?” Lauren asked, miffed at being duped.

  “Only the ones I want to get to know better.” Ryan’s expression grew serious when he realized she was angry. “Look, I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable. You’re actually the first client I’ve ever seen outside the office—by design, that is. I run into my clients all the time. This is a small town.”

  “It’s fine. I’m glad I came,” Lauren admitted.

  “Ah, so you did want to see me again,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Either that or you’re starting to feel lonely in that big, empty house.”

  Lauren glanced away. Was it that obvious that she was lonely? Some women wore their widowhood like a shield, using it to keep out the world that refused to stop spinning despite their loss, but although she wasn’t ready to embark on a new relationship, she didn’t want to come off as someone who was wallowing in grief, giving off waves of loneliness and impenetrable sadness.

  “It is a bit quiet,” she agreed. “I’ve lived in Boston all my life. I’m used to traffic, noise, and crowds.”

  “I went to school in Boston, but I was glad to come home. I love it here, especially in the off-season. There are some mornings when it’s overcast and the fog still hasn’t burned off and the beach feels completely deserted, as it must have been before anyone settled here. There’s an eerie stillness that envelops you in its embrace, and the waves lap at the shore, rolling in faster and faster as the tide comes in. It’s perfect. And then Jack, my dog, spots a squirrel and it all goes to hell in a handbasket.”

  Lauren took a leisurely sip of her drink and reflected on what Ryan had described. It had been foggy and sile
nt only that morning, the mist moving stealthily between the trees and shrouding the dock in a thick blanket of white. She’d heard the blast of a foghorn somewhere in the distance and had looked away from the vast emptiness beyond, feeling uncomfortably isolated. Had the woman she’d seen that morning felt the same when she’d looked out the window of her house on the hill?

  “Surely you must know something about Holland House, having lived here all your life,” Lauren said.

  “Only that it’s said to be haunted, which is nonsense, of course. Any house that’s seen several generations of people carries some footprint of their lives; it’s only natural, but that doesn’t mean their spirits are actually hanging around, spooking the current residents.”

  “Tell me about Orleans, then,” Lauren invited. Learning about the town would give her a starting point in her research if she decided to pursue her idea.

  “That I can do,” Ryan replied. “This area was first settled at the end of the seventeenth century by Pilgrims who left the Plymouth colony in the hope of securing arable tracts of farmland. It was sparsely populated, and its industry revolved around fishing, whaling, and farming. Most houses were very modest, which made Holland House an oddity when it was built, since it was quite sizeable. The inhabitants of the house didn’t farm the land, nor did they join the ranks of men who went out to fish, which set them apart from the community. Over time, the Holland family became one of the most prominent in Orleans.”

  “That’s a French name, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Orleans was named after Louis Philippe II, Duke of Orleans, in honor of France’s support of the American colonies during the Revolutionary War, but at the time Holland House was built, this area was considered the southernmost parish of Eastham. To be honest, I never really looked into the history of the house. My interest always lay in Hog Island, which is clearly visible from Holland House.”