by Terri Reed
Caroline hesitated. She’d told Don she wouldn’t leave the kitchen, but how did she refuse to accompany her aunt without being rude? She sent Mary an apologetic smile and allowed her aunt to lead her from the room. She hoped Don would understand.
Halfway down the hall, Abigail stopped and pushed open a door. “Here we go.”
The room was warm and well lit with at least a dozen candles on the curved-legged tables and on top of the square upright piano in the corner. The twins sat on an ornate antique sofa in the middle of the room. The furniture style was much more Victorian than Federal like most of the other pieces in the house. Lilly had her nose in a book and Landon hunched over a half-finished jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table. There was no television, no computer. Actually, she hadn’t seen any electronics since arriving, even though there had been electricity available to run them, then.
Taking a seat in a Queen Anne–style chair, Caroline asked, “Is there a computer I can use when the power comes back on?”
Lilly snorted without looking up from her book. Caroline read the spine—Moby Dick. Interesting. Required reading for school, or pleasure?
“Very unladylike,” Abigail said with censure in her tone. Her gaze swung back to Caroline. “Elijah is very much against bringing anything into the house that corrupts the mind.”
“But don’t the twins need a computer for homework?”
Landon slid a dark glance her way. “Our tutors don’t require them.”
“You don’t attend school?”
For a moment no one said anything, then Abigail sighed. “Elijah prefers to have the children’s teachers come to the house.”
“Does Uncle Samuel have a computer?”
“At his office in town.” Abigail settled on a stool at the piano. Her nimble fingers danced over the keys playing a pretty melody that Caroline didn’t recognize.
“I don’t seem to get any cell service here,” Caroline said. “Would any of you happen to have a cell phone I could use?”
Lilly lowered her book and glared. “We don’t have cell phones, either.”
Her contentious expression echoed her tone. Obviously she felt deprived. Caroline couldn’t blame her. In this day and age, it seemed archaic not to have a cell phone or computer. Switching gears, Caroline said, “Tomorrow’s Christmas. I noticed you don’t have a tree or anything.”
Abigail faltered, her fingers hitting discordant notes.
The twins stared at Caroline with widened eyes. She could see the longing in their young faces.
Finally, Abigail turned to face her. “Elijah doesn’t believe in Christmas.”
“Doesn’t believe in the commercialism, or doesn’t believe in God?”
Abigail gave a noncommittal shrug. “Both, I suppose.”
A deep sadness invaded Caroline to know her grandfather didn’t believe in God. Having faith was such an integral part of her life. Granted, her adoptive parents raised her in a Christian environment, but as an adult she’d chosen faith over anything else this world had to offer, even if she felt distant from God since Cullen’s death. “I saw a Bible on the entryway table. Whom does that belong to?”
“It was Mauve’s.”
Mauve Maddox, Caroline’s grandmother. Caroline wondered what she’d think of this situation. “And you? Do you believe in God?”
Abigail’s gaze shifted back to the piano. “I don’t know what I believe.”
Caroline looked to the twins. They shared a glance, then shrugged before resuming their activities.
Apparently Elijah held the family in a tight grip. It was hard to equate the frail man lying upstairs who’d seemed genuinely concerned for Caroline’s safety with the picture of a stern authoritarian being painted by his family.
The door to the parlor swung open. Don burst in, a flashlight in his hand, and halted abruptly, his gaze zeroing in on Caroline.
Samuel entered, stepping around him.
“There she is,” Samuel said, his gaze on Caroline as he moved to stand behind the sofa. “I told you she was fine.”
Caroline winced. Concern deepened the color of Don’s eyes to steely cobalt, reminding her of the danger waiting to strike. She’d let down her guard. Suddenly she felt drained. And it wasn’t even eight o’clock in the evening. She rose from the chair. “It’s been a long day. I’ll say good-night now.”
Abigail moved to stand next to Samuel. With the twins sitting on the sofa in front of the couple, they looked liked a Norman Rockwell family. A shiver of apprehension slid down Caroline’s spine. Could this idyllic scene be hiding something sinister?
“Good night, Caroline. Sleep well.”
Caroline doubted that would happen. One of these people might want her dead. But the question was which one?
Don leaned against the doorjamb of her room. “You left the kitchen.”
His heart beat too rapidly. When he’d returned to the kitchen and found the room empty, panic had drained the blood from his brain and sent his heart rate into overdrive.
Number One Rule of Protection—never leave your protectee unguarded.
But dragging Caroline out into the storm hadn’t been an option, either. She’d be too exposed, with too many places for a bad guy to take a shot at her. He had been sure she was safer inside with Mary.
Except neither Mary nor Caroline had been where he’d left them when he returned.
Caroline grimaced. “I know. Sorry. Aunt Abigail came in and didn’t give me much choice.”
When Samuel suggested Caroline was with his family in the parlor, Don had nearly trampled over the older man getting into the room. Seeing Caroline safe had eased but did not erase the constriction in his chest. Failing to protect her was not an option.
Especially after examining the tree trunk and determining lightning hadn’t been the cause of the tree splitting in half so neatly. There’d been no mistaking the burn pattern of an explosive device, nor the bits of metal embedded in the thick wood where its hole had been made with a spike.
“The tree wasn’t hit by lightning,” he stated baldly.
She paled in the candlelight. “What?”
“Someone deliberately destroyed that tree with an explosive. It was set to fall exactly where it did—blocking us in and cutting off the power.”
She sat on the bed. “The same bomber who tried to kill me in Boston?”
“That would be a fair assumption. Reconsider leaving.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I’m considering it all the time. But where would I go? The bomber found me in Boston once already. Am I supposed to hide for the rest of my life? No. I’m staying here until I get some answers. Besides, I can’t leave until we’re sure Elijah’s safe.”
Stubborn. Courageous. Beautiful. He tried not to admire her but he did.
“First thing in the morning I’ll contact the local law enforcement.”
Her grateful smile hit him in the gut. She had such pretty features he could stare at her for hours. Time to retreat.
“I’ll leave my door cracked open,” he said, reluctant to leave her again, even though propriety demanded he did. “Make sure you lock this door.”
“Any idea when they’ll get the generator working?”
“Not until they get some gas to run it.” He still couldn’t believe they had no fuel for the thing. “With the landline phone not working, we’ll have to wait until we can go into town to pick some up.”
She rose and glided to a stop in front of him. “I asked Abigail if there was a cell phone I could use. She said Elijah doesn’t allow any electronics in the house.”
The warm glow of the candlelight bathed her face and reflected in her gold-flecked eyes. He struggled to stay on topic. “Samuel said the same thing. Though he confessed he has a l
aptop in his quarters that he uses for his work.”
Her eyes brightened impossibly more. “That’s good. Will he let you use it? Maybe we could contact Dr. Reese?”
“He will.” His mouth quirked. “Through the internet since the phones aren’t working. Once the electricity is restored.”
Disappointment turned the corners of her mouth down. “Wow. It’s like we’re trapped in some time warp.”
“Exactly.” Being so cut off from the rest of the world left Don feeling uneasy. Especially with an assassin on the loose. “In the morning, we’ll drive to town and talk to Dr. Reese in person.”
“Tomorrow’s Christmas Day. You think the doctor will be in his office?”
“No.” He blew out a breath. “I guess we’ll have to wait until the day after to talk to him unless we can find his emergency contact number.”
He didn’t want to wait. The quicker they figured out if there was a connection between the bomber’s attacks and Elijah’s illness, the quicker the culprit could be found, and his protection detail could end. “But the local police will be on duty. They don’t take holidays off. We need to keep them informed and ready to act.”
Anxiety tightened the corners of her mouth. “Thank you.”
“That’s what you’re paying me for.”
Her gaze dropped. “True. Some Christmas, huh?” A pensive, sad expression crossed her face. “Abigail said Elijah doesn’t let them celebrate Christmas.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Not everyone does.”
“I know not everyone believes in God or celebrates Christmas, but I’ve seen evidence of faith in the house. Elijah has a cross hanging in his room, and there’s a Bible in the entryway that has clearly seen some use. I feel bad for the kids.”
“They have everything they need,” Don said. They had more than he’d had as a kid. He’d have traded every Christmas present he’d ever received to have his father return.
“I suppose you’re right. A roof over their heads, food on the table. Tutors who come to them. But where’s the joy?” She rubbed her arms.
“Cold?”
“A little.”
Without thinking through the consequences, he wrapped her in his embrace. She snuggled closer, sending his blood racing. He told himself he was acting the part of her fiancé, in case one of the family members happened to walk by the open door. But a niggling voice cautioned that he liked holding her a little too much.
Leaning back to look up at him, she said, “I’m sad for this family. They seem so oppressed.”
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“Wonder?”
“Maybe Elijah is right that someone’s killing him. Maybe someone’s tired of living under his thumb.”
“Oh. Right. I see where you’re going with that.” She shivered. He tightened his hold. “But no one deserves to be murdered. If Uncle Samuel and his family don’t like living here, why don’t they leave?”
Don shrugged. “The old man holds the purse strings.” Which was more than enough motive to do away with Elijah. And Caroline. To do that, though, they’d have to go through him first.
“I want to talk to Elijah,” she said. “He should let these kids have a merry Christmas if only to bring some fun and joy to this gloomy house.”
The determined note in her voice raised alarms in Don. “Are you sure you want to interfere? Can’t you wait until we know more about him and his condition?”
She extracted herself from his arms. “Yes, I’m sure. And no, I can’t wait.”
She pushed past him and headed down the hall toward the patriarch’s room. Don had no choice but to follow. As her bodyguard and as her fake fiancé. He only hoped she knew what she was doing.
FOUR
Caroline knocked once, and then entered without waiting for an invitation. Light pooled in a small circle around the bedside table from a battery-powered lamp. Elijah watched them as they approached. He seemed to have shrunken further since she’d last seen him.
Spying an ornate chair in the corner, she dragged it forward. Don quickly lifted the chair and set it near the bed for her. Giving him a grateful smile, she sat down. Her heart pounded in her chest. She shouldn’t be afraid to talk to this old man about God. She’d gone on mission trips to Third World countries and helped out at homeless shelters in downtown Boston. Talking to strangers about their need for God had never made her feel as insecure as she felt right now. For some reason she wasn’t sure how to proceed.
Don placed a hand on her shoulder. She touched his hand and gained strength from him.
She went for the straightforward approach. “Mr. Maddox, why won’t you let your family celebrate Christmas? Even if you don’t believe in God or even the commercialism of the presents and such, it’s unfair not to let your family choose for themselves.”
His eyes widened, and then narrowed. “Is that what they told you? That I don’t believe?”
“Yes.”
He snorted. “Idiots. I believe in God. And I know that He is punishing me.” Turning away, he said in a tortured, angry tone, “God took Isabella away because I didn’t take good enough care of her. You can’t ask me to celebrate Him.”
Elijah’s words hit her like a fist to the stomach. “Isabella was murdered by an intruder. How can you blame yourself?”
Elijah’s eyes misted. “I didn’t protect her.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I should have kept her from going off to college.” Elijah’s voice held self-recrimination. “She refused to come home for the summer that year. The last time I saw her was the Christmas before she died. We had an ugly argument.”
Anguish squeezed Caroline’s lungs. No wonder he held this family in such a tight grip. She reached out to touch Elijah’s hand. “God didn’t take her away. A criminal did that. God’s not punishing you for letting her live her life.”
“Then why? Why didn’t God protect her?”
Hurting for Isabella and for the man who carried her death like a scar on his heart, Caroline sought the right words. “We live in a fallen world. I know that sounds trite, but it’s true nonetheless. This wasn’t God’s plan. He loved Isabella, just as He loves you. He wouldn’t want you to take the blame for someone’s evil deed.”
Elijah squeezed her hand. “You have your mother’s fire.” For a long moment he stared at her then gestured toward the bedside table. “Open the drawer.”
She did as he asked. Inside she found a small Bible, pen and paper. But Caroline’s gaze was drawn to the two other items in the drawer. A pair of hospital bracelets.
Tears clogged her throat as she lifted the larger bracelet. She read Isabella Maddox’s name and the date. Caroline’s birth date. The small bracelet read Baby Girl Maddox and had the same date.
“After Isabella’s death, her things were boxed and shipped home. I never looked through them until this past October. The anniversary of her death. She’d have been forty-eight this year.” A tear slipped down his face.
Caroline’s heart squeezed tight. “This is how you discovered she’d had a child.”
He nodded, then looked away. “You’ll find more of your mother’s belongings in a trunk in the attic.”
Affection for this gruff old man unfurled in her chest. “Thank you. What a wonderful Christmas gift.”
Elijah gave her a half smile full of sadness. “Mauve loved to decorate the house for Christmas. And gifts… Oh, she’d be downright giddy giving the perfect present to everyone she loved. She always said we gave gifts because God gave us the best gift, His Son.” Elijah blinked back more tears. “She would’ve liked you. You speak your mind.”
“When did Mauve pass on?”
“Three years after Isabella’s death. Massive coronary.”
<
br /> Sympathy pinched Caroline’s heart. “You miss her.”
“I do. Especially…” Elijah’s gaze drifted toward the window as if he were seeing something in the past. Then he shifted his eyes back to Caroline’s face. “There are Christmas decorations in the attic, as well.”
Surprise washed over her. She leaned in and kissed his withered cheek. “Thank you. God bless you.”
“No, God bless you, child, for coming here to see a dying old man you’ve never met.” His gaze jumped to Don. “You keep her safe, you hear?”
“Believe me, sir, I intend to.”
Elijah nodded.
A light rapping sounded at the door.
“Excuse me?” Mary stepped in. “It’s time for Mr. Maddox’s medications.”
In one hand she held a plastic cup filled with four round white pills, and a glass of water in the other.
“What are those?” Don asked, easing closer.
“Florinef and Cortef for his Addison’s.”
Caroline stood and moved out of the way for Mary to hand Elijah the pills and water. He quickly swallowed the medication.
Mary took the glass from Elijah and set it on the bedside table. “Are you comfortable, Mr. Maddox?”
“Yes, Mary. Dinner, as always, was delicious.”
She smiled. “I’m just glad it was all cooked before the tree fell.” She turned to leave. “Ring if you need anything.”
Elijah nodded and she left.
“Ring?” Caroline asked.
He pointed with a bony finger to the small bell on the table then pointed upward. “Mary’s room is there.”
“There’s a third floor with rooms?” Caroline had assumed only the attic was overhead.
He nodded as his eyelids drooped. “The attic takes up half the third floor while their quarters take up the other half.”
“How long has Mary worked for you?” Don asked.
Caroline shot Don a curious look.
“She’s been with the family since she was a child. Her mamma was my grandparents’ cook. Mary took over when Constance passed on, just a few years after she married Horace, and brought him to work for us, too.” His words slurred at the end as sleepiness laced his tone.
