We raced to accomplish our plans as quickly as possible, but considering we came up with them late on a Wednesday night, as quickly as possible wasn’t the following weekend. It was the next, which also happened to be Valentine’s Day weekend.
So… that put a definite wrinkle in our personal Valentine’s Day plans, but we all agreed it was for a good cause. We also agreed the estate was just about the most romantic place a couple could be on Valentine’s Day. And after all, the day itself was on Sunday this year. The Edmunds would return to Glen Haven early in the evening, and per our super awesome boss we didn’t have to get back to work at the Lodge until Monday night… so it all worked out, and no one was too disappointed.
It was with much relief that we heard back from Steve that the Edmunds accepted his generous gift of the Valentine’s Day weekend, all-expenses-paid, getaway package. What a wrench it would’ve thrown in our carefully laid plans if they didn’t!
But really, it made perfect sense for them to accept. Otherwise, what was Steve supposed to do with it? He didn’t have a wife. He didn’t even have a girlfriend. I wondered if he and Lucy would hit it off, and decided they would. I decided to try and convince Miles I should do something about that later, when we had a minute to breath, but I digress.
The puppies couldn’t stay at the Lodge by themselves. Since our best friends were all going with us, there was no one we trusted enough to take care of them in our absence. Taking care of that many puppies is a lot of work! Especially puppies who might suddenly come down with a case of supernatural superpowers. Anyone who took care of them would have to know just how special they are, and how much more special they might become at any moment. As if we were going to tell anyone that, who didn’t already know! So the four and a half week old puppies were coming with us. Sure they were young for a road trip, but we absolutely, positively, would not leave them in the care of anyone else. The end.
We would, however, introduce Trixie’s seven service dog trainees to one of the Bannerman Foundation’s service dog training center trainers. Assessing the pups was a formality as far as we were concerned. Trixie wouldn’t earmark them unless they were capable, and knew that was where they were supposed to be.
“Something’s making you smile,” Miles noticed. He steered our SUV with one hand, and held mine with the other.
“I’m just imagining the look on the Training Center trainer’s face if we said the pups don’t need to pass an assessment, their mother already approved them.”
“I’m sure that would go over well,” he smiled. “Actually, the trainer would probably laugh like your mother does every time you or your sister mention which Miles I really am.”
“It has worked out rather nicely,” I said, very thankful that gamble paid off. “I’ve slipped several times since, and said things I’d never be able to talk my way out of without using some serious redirecting.”
“I’m glad you can make a joke out of it now, instead of being tempted to make up something to cover for it. That’s got to be as big a relief to you, as writing my own name is to me.”
“If only we had any idea Grandma Polly knew all along who you are!” I declared.
“I would’ve legally changed my middle name back to my own right away. Better late than never, though. When I forget at some point and include it in my signature, I won’t have to come up with an excuse and request that a new document be printed.”
“The only excuse you’ll have to come up with, is why your handwriting is so much nicer than everyone else’s,” I said, and Miles laughed.
“Yes, that… I’d rather try and explain the handwriting than the accent, though.”
“What accent?” I wondered.
“Exactly,” Miles replied.
“You had an accent?” I exclaimed.
“Surely you cannot imagine that I once spoke in such a way as would now seem fitting.”
I laughed, and he smiled.
“Talk more!” I insisted.
“My dearest Anika, what is it you would have me say?”
“I don’t know, but when did you stop talking this way?”
“Gradually, over time I suppose. As the rest of the Bannermans changed, so did I.”
“Wow. So you not only kept up with changes in technology, but the way people talk, too.”
“And so many other things. But the handwriting, I kept.”
“And the manners,” I said. “I love that about you.”
“Then I’ll be sure not to lose them,” he replied, and we both smiled.
I glanced over my shoulder at the large, custom-made pet bed which contained our golden pups. Some were sleeping, and some were not. Chip and Trixie kept guard on each side. They blocked escapees, and encouraged them with a firm nudge to return to the bed at once.
Night and Pandora, confined to their carriers, appeared resigned. They were no longer howling, anyway. Their fussing never bothered us, thanks to Miles’ sound-proof force field, but I was glad for their sakes that they were through wasting their energy waging a protest.
“What would it be like if we knew each other then?” I asked Miles.
“If you were born in 1850?”
“Yes, I’m trying to picture what life would be like if we were together then.”
“There’d be a lot less kissing,” he said, making me laugh.
“Really?”
“None, actually. Not until after we were engaged. Even then, it would be brief. Your parents would be in the next room, as a reminder that it better be.”
“They’d be worse than Jenny and Xander,” I said, making a face.
“This may be hard for you to imagine, but more than likely our parents would be responsible for our engagement.”
“It wouldn’t be our decision?” I asked in surprise.
“We could certainly fight them on it, but why would we?”
“We wouldn’t,” I laughed. “But—having your parents choose didn’t seem horrible to you, then?”
“Normal is what you’re raised with. So it seemed normal to me. Delevan had a problem with it, though.”
“He chose my great-great-great Grandmother Sarah,” I said.
“Instead of courting the girl they chose,” Miles finished for me.
“Well—what about you?” I asked, feeling a rush of jealousy. “Did they pick someone out for you?”
“No,” he said, and waited. Probably for me to realize he was telling the truth.
“You’re telling the truth,” I said. “Go on.”
“I have never met anyone with as little to be jealous of, as you,” he said, and waited again. I rolled my eyes a little, but more apologetically than anything else.
“You’re telling the truth again.”
“My parents had their hands full with Delevan. He was the future head of house, after all. Besides, I was only nineteen.”
“You and your brother were very different,” I commented.
“I had my own opinions, but I reasoned, rather than reacted. So I never butted heads with our Father, which was an all too common occurrence with Delevan.”
“It’s strange to think how different your life used to be,” I said, as I tried to imagine.
“If I met you then, or even caught a glimpse of you, I would’ve talked to my Father and asked him to talk to yours.”
“Really?” I asked. I knew it was the truth, but wanted to hear more.
“Of course. Then I’d worry myself sick waiting to find out if you were already spoken for. If you were free, then considering who my family was and their standing in society, there would be no question that your parents would find me acceptable. But what about you?”
“What, are you saying I used to drink out of a lead cup? Of course I found you acceptable. I was relieved your dad talked to mine. But I had a major problem with the kissing thing, or lack thereof.”
Miles laughed, and squeezed my hand.
“So did I. The long, several year engagement was torture.”
�
��Why in the world did we wait so long?” I wanted to know.
“Are you kidding? We were only nineteen. And… besides. That’s how things were done at the time.”
“I like this time,” I decided. “Much, much better!”
“So do I. For so many reasons, but mostly because in this time, we’re together.”
“That’s my favorite part,” I agreed. Miles smiled and kissed the back of my hand. I smiled too. “Don’t lose the accent completely, though. I like it.”
“Okay,” he laughed.
We reached Cedar Oaks. As we drove slowly through downtown, abiding by the twenty-five mile per hour speed limit, I looked around eagerly.
Snow covered the roofs of the buildings, the cold-hardy flowers in the planters lining the street, and the boardwalk. It dusted the windows, which displayed each shop’s goods, along with Valentine themed decorations.
The sight of fresh batches of fudge in the display case of the town’s Three Chocolatier’s Shoppe, made my mouth water. Sweaters and an assortment of purses were visible inside the boutique, waking the shopper inside me. The antique store beside it, reminded me of the estate and its beautiful furnishings. And all those storage rooms!
We left the town behind, and followed the narrow, tree lined road which led to the estate.
My heart beat a little faster as we neared it. I wondered if Miles’ did too.
“Is there a reason why you’re taking my pulse?” he asked, and I laughed.
“I just wondered if your heart beat faster as you neared home. I mean… where is home, really? We live in more than one place. But I love it here. I wondered if you’re affected the same way that I am.”
“Yes. I always have been. I imagine I always will be. It’s the family estate, after all.”
“And a special place in and of itself,” I added. “Do you suppose Grandma Polly is here yet?”
“I’ll be surprised if she isn’t.”
The pine trees thinned, and before us spread the expansive, oak encircled grounds of the estate. The branches which rose up to meet the pale blue of the sky, sparkled with frost. The rose garden slept beneath a layer of snow, as did its many paths, benches, swing, fountain, statues, and the table and chairs where we sometimes enjoyed breakfast. Under a smooth blanket of white, the lawn stretched from the garden to the sheltering trees.
So many beautiful memories were made here, not the least of which was our wedding. I was suddenly filled with longing for spring to arrive, and bring the garden back to life.
In the center of the grounds stood the House of Bannerman estate, Miles’ ancestral home.
Turrets jutted from the sharply slanted roof of the four-story stone mansion. Windows of all shapes and sizes were tucked into its many gables, and round towers pointed to the heavens with their snow-covered, cone shaped caps. At the top of the broad stone steps leading up from the curving driveway, the large wooden front doors were sheltered by a vestibule. On each side of the main structure stretched an additional wing. Towers were spaced evenly along the walls, and filling the space between, were rows of decorative stone which resembled saw tooth battlements. It wasn’t hard to understand why so many used the word castle, instead of estate, when referring to our home.
Miles didn’t stop at the front door, as we sometimes did. Instead, he followed the driveway around the estate to the garage. With a press of a button, a section of the wall which looked just like stone, but wasn’t, rolled up and out of our way. Miles pulled inside and parked.
“How did they ever make the garage door blend in so perfectly?” I asked, as Miles opened my door and offered me his hand.
“Spared no expense, I’m sure,” Miles said, glancing around the garage at the multiple vehicles parked there.
“I do like that it doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb,” I commented, as Miles unloaded our pets and possessions. “Can you imagine how tacky and out of place regular garage doors would be on the wall of the estate?”
“Yes. You’ve convinced me, I won’t have them replaced,” he replied, making me laugh.
“See that you don’t,” I said.
Miles used his abilities to move our luggage, cats, and the puppies, bed included, through the garage and into the estate. As soon as the door was closed behind us, he released Night and Pandora.
They scrambled out of their carriers and tore down the hall, crashing into a small table in their haste, and nearly overturning the vase which sat on top.
“What do they think’s after them?” I exclaimed, as Miles laughed, no doubt at how ridiculous those two looked as they made their escape. The echo of their thundering feet faded into the distance.
“The carriers, of course. You know how often they chase after them.”
“As in never,” I laughed too. “You’d think so though, the way they react.”
The pups looked around eagerly as we travelled the halls of the estate toward the entryway. They wanted very badly to get down and explore, but the force field kept them safely inside their bed. Chip and Trixie followed along beside them. They were used to the estate, so it was nothing new to them. In spite of it, they sniffed and examined just as if it was.
After several twists and turns, we passed through the arched doorway at the end of the hall, and into the entryway.
Ahead of us stood the gently curving staircase. To the left was the elevator Miles installed at my request. Considering our bedroom was on the fourth floor, I’d been thankful for it many times since it was put in.
On the right, facing the staircase, were the massive double front doors. On each side, a narrow window looked out on the vestibule and the steps leading down to the driveway and estate grounds.
A chandelier hung from the high ceiling, its prisms glittering as they slowly spun. I admired the antique entryway table and mirror, and the Victorian style wallpaper. Or to be entirely truthful, the Victorian wallpaper. There was nothing faux about the estate. Other than the imitation stone garage doors, that is.
Several arched doorways lined the walls on each side of the staircase and front doors. The one to our right led to the parlor. Miles’ Grandma Polly must have been waiting there for us, because she hurried through it.
“It’s so good to see you children at last!” his tiny little grandmother smiled.
“It’s great to see you, Grandma Polly!” Miles smiled back at her. “Have you been here long?”
“Long enough,” she pretended to scold. She hugged Miles and kissed his cheek, then turned to me. “And how are you, Anika dear?”
“Doing great, how are you?” I asked, as she hugged me.
“I couldn’t possibly complain now that you’re here,” she said happily, giving Chip a rub behind the ears. She turned her attention to the puppies, and her bright blue eyes grew even brighter.
“Well aren’t you just adorable,” she said to them, as she reached down to pet Trixie. “And you didn’t know a thing until a week before!”
“That’s right. We had no idea until she told us,” Miles said.
“Aren’t you the stealthy one,” Polly chuckled, and Trixie smiled.
Polly reached down to pet Fidget, who stood with her little front feet on the side of the bed, wagging her tail for all it was worth. Polly was halted in her attempt by the force field, which kept the rambunctious pups from hopping out and running in twelve different directions.
“Miles dear, I do hope you don’t intend to keep me from my grand-puppies!” she chided, and Miles smiled.
“Not at all, Grandma Polly,” he replied. He reached down and picked up Fidget, and placed her in Polly’s eager arms. “This is Fidget. Trix named her after Anika.”
Polly was amused by that, perhaps a little more than was necessary!
“Well, now if Anika wasn’t so busy, you’d still be wandering the estate in a semi-transparent state,” Polly said, soothing my feelings. Her eyes grew a little misty. “And I would be alone here on earth, with no family to call my own.”
Miles h
ugged her, and so did I. Her arms were full of Fidget, so she let us do all the hugging.
Grandma Polly lost so much when her son and daughter-in-law were killed. Then she lost her grandson, whose place Miles filled after he returned. We’d understand if she needed more than a moment, but she didn’t want more than that.
“Well now, let’s bring these puppies into the parlor so I can meet them properly,” she said, blinking away the moisture from her eyes.
“Alright, we’ll do that,” Miles said gently. “We’ll introduce you to those we can, but you know, Trix hasn’t named them all.”
“Hasn’t she!” Grandma Polly said, leading the way. “Does she intend to?”
“She hasn’t enlightened me on that yet,” Miles said.
“For now we’ve been calling them the service dog trainees, but that’s not exactly satisfactory,” I added.
“It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, Trixie dear,” Grandma Polly said, as she sat on one of the loveseats, Fidget still in her arms. “You might consider giving them names, however.”
Trixie considered that, and shrugged a little. And that was all.
One by one, we introduced the puppies to Grandma Polly, and she greeted and played with each of them.
“And they’re almost five weeks old, you say?” she asked, as the puppies drowsed off and fell asleep one by one.
“Yes,” Miles answered. “In another three weeks it will be time for them to go to their new homes. Spaz and Linux won’t move far, and Ed and Lacey will live with Anika’s family. I’m thankful Fidget will stay with us, but we’re going to really miss the rest of them.”
“Well, now I can see how you would. But after all, Trixie is right. Fourteen dogs is too much for two people. Besides, there has to be room for more puppies in the future. It’s very unlikely this will be her last litter.”
Depart the Darkness Page 18
