His fingertip clamps down on my lips. “Yes, you do. And it’s okay. Now, later—it’s not going to get any easier. In fact, I guarantee the longer we’re here together, it will only get harder.”
I shake my head, smiling. “How can you be so calm about all of this?”
Taking a moment to think about the question, Wade’s eyebrows knit together. He finally says, “I guess, when you’re around someone whose life is ending, it’s easier to put things into perspective. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want you to go. Far from it. But as much as I want to spend every waking moment with you, and believe me, I do… I also know that we’re better together when we are still ourselves. I have my grandfather to think about right now and you have Windhaven Academy. Our time together will come, and I am more than happy in the knowledge that it’s on its way.”
“Wow, that was really…profound, actually. I feel like a silly schoolgirl or something,” I say, biting down on the inside of my cheek.
“Not in the remotest. You have an incredible heart and a healer’s energy. You just want people to feel supported. You don’t want to say good-bye. It’s who you are. And I love that about you.”
Tears brim in my eyes again as he seems to strip me down to my bare essence without even trying. Swallowing hard, I blink them away.
“But trust me, before you can heal the ones around you, you have to heal yourself. That starts with taking care of the dynamic between you and your dad. And for the love, even if you’re not curious, I want to know why Windhaven Academy wants you there,” he says, nudging me with his shoulder.
“Oh, so now the real truth comes out,” I laugh, despite myself. “All those beautiful words and really it boils down to you wanting me to figure out what kind of supernatural nerd I am.”
“I won’t lie, that’s totally mixed in there,” he grins.
“Well, when you put it all that way…” I say, sticking out my tongue at him. “I wanna know what kind of supernatural nerd you are, too. You’ve barely explained.”
“That time will come,” he grins. “I gotta keep a little mystery between us, right?”
“Totally not fair,” I say.
Wade bends forward until his breath tickles the side of my cheek. “And yet, it will all come out in the end and you know it,” he whispers into my ear. “Come on, let’s get you on the road. You’ll feel better once this part is done.”
I tip my chin to look him in the eyes and despite his words, my own angst is mirrored back at me. He feels it too—this pull to stay together. He’s just better at setting it aside than I am. Maybe it’s because of all he’s had to let go in his past. Losing your parents at such a young age can’t be easy. I place my hand over his heart to mimic back his energy. Then, taking a deep breath, I grab my backpack and lead the way.
Everything is about to change in ways I’d never be able to imagine. The strangest part is feeling like I’m closing a chapter of my life that I’ll never return to. I mean, how often will I really return to Mistwood Point? A few times a year to visit my mom? Things will never be the same.
A sudden wave of regret washes over me. My mom’s not even here to say good-bye—not that I expected her to. To say she wasn’t pleased with my decision would be an understatement.
My legs are shaky as I meander down the narrow stairs with Wade. The muted thud of my footsteps as they fall on the wood are haunting. Like they’re nothing more than echoes of the past. When we reach the bottom, I take a quick glance around the only place I’ve known as home for the past thirteen years. The small living room to the left houses the bazillion books and DVDs my mom and I have spent countless hours perusing. To the right, the dining room table is empty, with the exception of a single placemat and table setting.
She’s already put mine away.
“Ready?” Wade whispers, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I smile weakly and nod. Without looking back, I open the front door and walk out onto the porch—and into the unknown.
Chapter 7
Welcome Home, Autumn
The entire drive to Windhaven is a strange mixture of elation and despair. Leaving now is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But Wade was right about one thing—saying good-bye isn’t my forte. It’s like it’s not even in my DNA. Had he not been the guiding force, encouraging me to go out the door, I’m almost certain I would have decided to stay in Mistwood Point.
However, the more distance I get, the more clarity washes over me. There are answers I need, and a part of me realizes there are mysteries I need to unravel. At the very least, I need to rebuild my relationship with my father.
When I pull up to the manor, darkness has descended and the landscape looks far more ominous than it did when I arrived the last time. Gone is the beautiful sunlight and inviting trees. Instead, I’m met with gnarly branches, moonlight, and abrupt, twisty turns along a long drive.
Lights are on inside the home, however, casting a warm glow across the cobblestone driveway and inviting me to come within. I put Blue into park and hop out. I take a deep, cool inhalation and stare at the moon. It’s barely a sliver and about to disappear completely in the next day or two.
The angel statue in the middle of the circle still draws my attention and the deep groves and shadows that are cast upon it by the landscape lighting. The evening hours certainly give it a haunting aura. Twisting around, I grab my backpack from the passenger seat and head up the stone stairs.
Lifting my hand to knock, I hold there with my hand in the air. Instead, I drop it to the handle and open the door. After all, if this is about to be my home, I guess I should start acting like it.
The massive door creaks open and I peer inside.
“Hello?” I call out. “Dad? Are you here?”
Silence greets my echo, but as I take a few steps into the main entry, Dad appears around the corner.
“Hi there, sweetie. I was wondering when you’d be here,” he says, a bright smile gracing his face. It lights up all of his features and lifts my spirits. There were so many times when I wished I had a better relationship with him. Or when I wished I could understand what happened between him and my mom. Hopefully, now’s that chance.
“Yeah, I, uh, it was hard to leave Wade and Mom. Harder than I expected—”
He nods. “I get it. Saying good-bye isn’t easy.”
“It really isn’t,” I agree. I take a deep breath to clear my energy, and I shuffle the backpack on my shoulder. “Well, I’m here now.” I smile back at him, trying to emulate the same level of enthusiasm.
“Excellent,” he says. “What would you like to do? Did you want a quick tour? Or do you just want to get settled for the night?”
“A tour would be great, actually. I didn’t get the chance to see much the last time I was here,” I say, casting my gaze around the space with curious eyes. Despite being here not long ago, it still looks vastly different from what I remember as a kid.
“Well, all right then. Let’s do the tour,” he beams.
I nod, waving my hand out in front of me.
Dad takes the lead, speaking over his shoulder like a proper tour guide. “So, I don’t know how much about this house you remember…but the manor, it’s been in our family for generations.”
“I remember being here as a kid, but it definitely looks different.”
“Yeah, when your mom and I had moved in, it had fallen into some disrepair over the years. I felt like it was my purpose, my mission, to restore it to the type of glory it deserved,” he continues, as we make our way up the massive front staircase.
“You’ve done a lot from what I can tell,” I say, unable to pick a single place to look. Everywhere is something to see—beautiful sconces, decorative woodworking, old pictures, and knickknacks. Each item looks like it was plucked out of another era, but still somehow manage to look like they belong.
“The original structure’s still in here—it’s just received a much-needed facelift.”
“You’ve done a really beautiful job,
Dad,” I say, and I truly mean it. I can only imagine the kind of work this places has needed to look so good.
As we reach the second level, Dad turns left and follows the corridor around the corner, as the house curves into its U-shape. Ornate glass and bronze sconces hang from the walls in intermittent intervals, glowing dimly like candlelight. I can’t help but feel like I’ve either walked into a fairy tale or some sort of horror movie.
“We’ll start on this wing and work our way backward to your bedroom. Sound good?” Dad says, shooting me a grin from over his shoulder.
“Works for me,” I nod.
“Well, up here is a lot of the miscellaneous rooms. Some are bedrooms, but others are just useful for the view,” he begins. “The interior rooms, these ones to the right, overlook the pond and courtyard, so they’re nice for reading, relaxing, and whatnot. Since it’s pretty much pitch-black outside, it’ll probably be better to take another look in the morning.”
I nod in agreement.
The house is laid out more like a hotel than a home, with a good ten or so doors along both sides of the massive hallway. Most of the doors are closed, so we keep walking to the end and an enormous bay window with two massive chairs that face it.
“This faces the pond, right?” I say, pointing out the window.
Dad nods. “Indeed. The middle and both ends of the house face out toward the pond. Everything else faces the interior of the courtyard or out into the woods. So, the other wing looks almost exactly like this one. It’s where my bedroom is and at the top of the stairs was my study. So, let me show you those quick before we head downstairs,” he says, turning around and going back the way we came.
Old paintings and mirrors adorn the walls, like remnants of the past. None of it looks like something a modern day dad would buy, so I’m pretty sure they came with the house. As we pass the main stairwell, I stop to look out over the entryway. From the landing, the large chandelier somehow looks even bigger at this angle. Its light ricochets off in all sorts of directions and is absolutely stunning. Holding onto the railing, I lean forward, looking at the space from this near-bird’s-eye view.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Dad says, walking back to me.
I nod. “It really is.”
“You know, I wish… I never wanted you and your mother to leave. It’s been hard living here all alone.” His words are barely a whisper.
I turn to look at him over my shoulder.
“Dad, you don’t need to—” I begin. “I mean, it’s not that I’m not curious.”
“You must have a lot of questions about what happened,” he says, the middle of his light eyebrows tipping up. His blue eyes sparkle with emotion.
“I guess I do,” I say, grabbing hold of the railing for support. I wasn’t expecting to get into a heavy conversation so early, but since it’s presented itself…
A strange chill rushes past me, making my neck hairs stand on end. I raise my hand to my neck, surprised by the sudden goose bumps flashing across my skin.
Dad’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back.
“Um, you know, you must be hungry. Did you have supper?” he says, changing the subject and going down the stairway a few steps.
“I, uh,” I begin, surprised by the shift in conversation.
“Come on, let’s get a snack.” Dad turns on his heel and practically bolts down the stairs.
Looking over my shoulder, I drop my hand and shake my head.
“Sure, but can I drop my backpack off in my bedroom first?” I call out.
“Oh, yeah, you bet. It’s this way,” he says, taking off in the lower level.
I race after him, trying to keep up as he turns right at the bottom of the stairs and takes a quick turn down the left corridor.
“Dad, is something wrong?” I ask, trying to keep up. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, not at all. I just realized how late it is. I don’t always keep track of time very well. Hazard of living alone, I guess.”
We reach a bedroom door on the right and he stands off to the side, waiting for me to open it. As I walk up, memories start rushing at me. They are a strange mixture of mystery, happiness, and unpleasantness.
“Is this the same bedroom I had as a kid?” I ask as I open the door.
“Yes, I hope you don’t mind. I thought maybe you’d be the most comfortable here,” he says, standing by the opening.
I tip my head in acknowledgement as I walk inside.
The space is lit with small lamps all around the room. They sit on every flat surface—the dresser, the end tables, a large desk, and even a bookshelf in the left corner. Directly in front of us, a wooden king-size bed rests in the middle of the left wall. Beyond that, and straight ahead of us, is an enormous picture window alcove with a window seat. Just like he said, it’s pitch-black outside, but thanks to my memories, I can imagine how beautiful it will be come morning. The view of the garden and trees is pretty well etched in my mind.
Along the upper edge of the wall, a shelf runs the entire circumference of the room. There are knickknacks and dolls, old toys from my childhood, and picture frames filled with images of me, Mom, and Dad during the first seven years of my life. In the far right corner, the door is open to a large walk-in closet.
I blink back my surprise, trying to form cohesive thoughts. It’s beautiful and mysterious for sure, but anxiety washes through me and I can’t seem to shake it.
“It’s almost exactly like I remember it,” I say breathlessly.
Dad grins broadly.
“Do you still like it?” he asks.
“Of course,” I say, trying to hide my sudden trepidation. “What’s not to love?”
“Good. Good…this was the room you picked out when you were little. You said it had the best view, so it was yours,” he says, chuckling softly. “Well, how about we head to the kitchen and grab that snack?”
“Sure,” I say, dropping my backpack on the bed and turning around. “Let’s do it.”
Leaving my bedroom behind, Dad stops at the doorway across the hall from my bedroom and points. “I don’t know if you remember, but this is your bathroom, by the way. It’s not attached or anything, but at least it’s close.”
I peek inside, marveling at the spaciousness of it. It’s bigger than my bedroom back at Mom’s. Large windows along the main wall are composed of frosted panes of glass, but have no curtains. In the middle of the room stands a big soaker tub with old-fashioned clawed feet. To the right is the toilet and large double-sink vanity.
“Whoever built this home certainly didn’t do things small, did they?” I laugh.
“I’m kind of with them. Go big or go home, right?” Dad says, his eyes sparkling.
I smile, shaking my head as we step back into the hallway.
“You’ll get used to it. It’s really not as big as you might think. You’re just used to your Mom’s place and—”
I shoot him a sideways glance.
“Sorry, I wasn’t meaning it in a bad way. N-nevermind, let’s—here, let me show you the kitchen,” he mutters.
Dad takes a sharp turn to the left. For a brief moment, the small hallway actually looks like something I would expect in any other ordinary home. But then we enter the spacious, open kitchen, and that pretense falls away.
“Holy crap, you could practically fit Mom’s whole house in this kitchen,” I say, my mouth agape. Angst sweeps through me unexpectedly. Why on earth would she have given all of this up? What was so bad between them? Most kids remember their parents fighting all the time, so a separation and divorce doesn’t seem unusual. But for the life of me, I still have no idea what went wrong.
Dad rakes his fingertips at his eyebrow, but he walks across the expanse to a large double-doored refrigerator.
“We, uh—I didn’t know what you’d like to eat or drink, so there’s a lot to choose from in here,” he says, gesturing for me to come closer. “If you want something else, just let me know. I’ll make sure it gets added to our
shopping list so James can pick it up.”
“James?” I say, quirking an eyebrow.
His face darkens a bit as he says, “He’s the housekeeper. You might not think it, but keeping this house running can be a lot of work. So I hired him to help out with some of the tasks.”
I raise my eyebrows, surprised. Mom had to work full-time with two different jobs to make ends meet. And here Dad is, living in practically a mansion with a butler. Okay, housekeeper. In a weird way, it doesn’t seem right. While Mom never complained about Dad or what he did or didn’t do, a tiny well of resentment kicks me in the stomach.
Why didn’t he help us out more?
“Inside there’s juice, milk, soda—you name it,” Dad says, pointing at the fridge and pulling me from my internal dialogue.
Opening it up, I stare into its depths for a moment, and reach for a can of Red Bull.
“That won’t keep you up all night, will it? I hear it’s got some kick,” he offers.
I shrug. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere.”
“Good point,” he laughs. “Are you hungry? What do you want to eat? We have—”
“Actually, I should probably check in with Mom and Wade. I want to let them know I made it safely,” I say.
“Right,” he nods. “I suppose you’ll need the Wi-Fi password. It’s YBG0n3. Wanna write that down?”
“Nah, I’ll just add it to my phone now. Hang on,” I say, taking my phone out of my pocket.
As soon as I get it entered and logged in, I lean against the edge of the breakfast bar, unable to truly grasp the sheer size of this place. I mean, I knew my Dad had a big house, but for some reason, I didn’t realize that translated into having money. It’s weird how when you’re a kid, you don’t think of those things. But now, it’s like moving in with a secret superhero or something.
“Our last name isn’t really Wayne, is it?” I blurt out.
Dad pulls up short and snickers. “Ha—no. Blackwood’s as good as it gets, sweetie.”
“Just checking,” I say, grinning sheepishly.
The Windhaven Witches Omnibus Edition : Complete Paranormal Suspense Series, Books 1-4 Page 6
