“I’m coming right in, Cindy will drive me,” Prudence said definitively.
Caroline shook her head, though there was nobody there to see her. “That’s not necessary, Prudence, truly.”
“Nonsense,” her cousin said. “You’re family, and Simon is a friend. And that’s what families and friends do, is stand together.” She paused and Caroline pursed her lips tightly, determined not to cry. “We’ll be there in half an hour, dear.”
Simon stared at the doctor, trying to master his emotions and managing only to deepen his scowl. “That’s it? That’s all you can tell us?”
The man’s response was measured and calm, though not unkind. And it conveyed no new information. His grandfather was resting and being monitored. The pressure on his brain had been successfully reduced. They would know more in a few hours.
The medical speak continued after that, but Simon knew it was more for his grandmother’s benefit than his. He’d been about to come out of his skin during the drive to Charleston, and it was only Caroline’s patient, calming presence that had kept him from ramming his SUV through every red light or slow vehicle in front of him.
Even now she hovered in the back of the waiting room, chatting with the other residents from the center who’d taken over a large chunk of the space. Seeing her with them, he felt his nerves unkink a notch. At least he didn’t have to worry about everyone else for the short term. Eventually they’d need to arrange for transport back to the Center, and he was fairly certain all of them leaving the way they did in a flurrying rush had violated seventeen different layers of protocol, so that would have to be addressed too.
But not now.
“How’re you holding up?”
He blinked and looked down into the face of his grandmother, taking in the firm set to her mouth, her steady gaze. She was watching him with the same expression on her face that he’d seen countless times since his parents’ death—with every piece of news they’d received that summer, each somehow infinitely worse than the last, with every new indignity of his adolescent years he’d had to endure, changing schools, formal adoption procedures, his increasing isolation and loneliness that led to ever more adventurous trips during his college years and beyond. Through it all she’d been his touchstone, steadfast and sure.
The fact that she was that now as well made him abashed—but strangely comforted too. Like this, at least, had not changed.
“I think I should be the one asking you that question.”
“I know you do,” she said, flashing him a quick smile. “But you don’t have to. You’re here, Simon. Simply here. And that’s more than enough to keep me steady.” She gestured to the hallway. “Walk with me?”
“Of course.”
They left the sitting room with nothing more than a wave to Caroline, who lifted her own hand in response, an approving, almost happy smile on her face as they made eye contact. As if she’d expected they would step away from the crowd, somehow, and that she’d be more than capable of holding down the fort until they returned. Even that unsettled him, in its way. Caroline didn’t know these people, had no reason to be here. But she fit in with the crowd of seniors so seamlessly, it was as if she’d been their friends for years.
He got the feeling she would be the same with any group of people. Not pushing, not forcing, but slipping into the natural flow of their conversations, seeing to their needs, learning and laughing in equal measure as they told their stories to her.
Was that simply part of being the middle child? Her noble upbringing in Garronia? Or was it something different, something that was unique to Caroline’s personality?
Simon and his grandmother stepped into the hall, the silence almost a balm after the loud and buoyant chatter of Belle and Bobo’s friends. Beside him, his grandmother was more obvious in her appreciation. “I never realize how bad everyone’s hearing has gotten until we’re cooped up in a room like that, and every one of us is shouting to be heard over the other. It’s like a herd of cows in there.”
Simon’s laugh came out as a surprised bark, and another knot of tension eased. He reached for his grandmother’s hand with his right hand, putting his left around her shoulder. She was small, tiny even, but once again he got the impression of her sturdiness, like a reed well used to standing against the storm. “You feeling good about Bobo’s recovery, then?”
“More than good,” she said firmly, and she flashed him a quick smile. “I mean, the stubborn goat could make a fool of me and die tonight, but I don’t think so. He’s too excited about the party next week.”
“The party,” Simon groaned, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “It’s that party that caused the problem in the first place. You know we can’t keep up the illusion of activity at Pinnacle House long term, Belle. I have work, travel. And it’s too much for you and Bobo to manage. You know that.”
“Of course I know that,” she snapped back, surprising him with her directness. “I know a lot of things. I know that Bobo is lying in a hospital bed with tubes running fluids into him, and that I haven’t talked with him for more than five hours, probably the first time that’s happened while we were awake in the past twenty years. I know that half our friends are terrified that he’ll die, not solely because we’ll lose him, but because he’ll be the first of our group, signaling to all of us in varying ways that our own lives have a finite end. These are the things I know, and they’re important things.”
She squeezed his arm, but he could only stare at her, the rush of her words like a fast-moving storm. “I also know that Bobo’s dream of re-opening Pinnacle House in a real and active way may be foolish and costly, but it is his dream. It wakes him up in the morning and lulls him to sleep again at night. It adds form and function to his days, and he is happy when he works on any part of it, no matter how small. And I love that man, Simon. I love him more than I’ve loved anyone or anything in my life. So if it makes him happy to open a rambling old house and have kids playing on the lawn and lovers walking hand in hand on the beach, even if we have to hire help to make it run, then I’m going to help him do it. If it makes him happy to see the impressed eyes of that little squirt from the State Historic Preservation Office, as he twitched through room after room in Pinnacle House, breathed in the air of the sea and drank enough of Hilda’s coffee before Caroline arrived that his bladder had to be full to bursting, then I’m going to help him do that too. I seriously don’t see the point in living if you can’t do the things you want to do.”
She delivered all of this in her usual frank, even-handed tone, but the words hit Simon with the punch of a leaden ball. It’s not that he didn’t understand what she was saying, it’s not that he didn’t want to support Bobo in a project that would keep him engaged, but…
He sighed. There really was no good way to say this. “Belle, I have an opportunity to travel again,” he said quietly. “Obviously, I can’t leave—not right away. Not with Bobo hurt. But I...” he swallowed. “It’s a research trip, and it could mean a great deal for my work.”
She listened, nodding, but her expression didn’t change. She smiled at him with her heart in her eyes, the way she had since he’d first told her of his pirate adventures when he was eight years old. “Then you travel,” she said simply. “There’s no harm in that. And no reason for you to hang around here either, waiting for your grandfather to mend. Unless you physically move his legs and knit his bones, you can’t help him here anymore than you can help him halfway around the world, after all.”
Simon frowned, a tugging sense of loss pulling at his chest, though she was only telling him what he most wanted to hear. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course I would mind,” she said, not unkindly. She squeezed his hand again. “You’re my grandson and I love having you here. But I love you being happy more than that, and you have to do what makes you happy, Simon. You can’t go through life wondering what if, that’s a sure way to make yourself crazy. Life was made for adventuring, but it’s up to us to t
ake those adventures.”
Simon sighed. He should feel elated, relieved, incredibly blessed by her understanding. Instead, all he felt was…restless.
“What would a pirate king do,” he said wryly, recalling words from his earliest childhood, there on Pearl Island with Belle and Bobo. “Without a sea to conquer?”
“He’d go and find new oceans,” his grandmother said, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Because that’s what pirates do.”
Chapter Twenty
Caroline stepped away from the group as soon as Simon and his grandmother left the room, exiting through another doorway that led to the restrooms. She fumbled in her purse for her phone and checked the time. How had two hours passed since she and Simon had gotten the news about his grandfather? It seemed like it had only been a few minutes.
She did the mental calculation in her mind, and sighed. She couldn’t call Edeena at this hour, to ask her help. She certainly couldn’t call the queen. But maybe emailing Queen Catherine would be the best way to go about getting someone—anyone—to come to Pearl Island for the upcoming party. If anyone would know of a current Garronois presence in the US, it would be the queen.
Furthermore, the entire group of seniors were adamant that Bobo would be recovered enough to attend, and they seemed to place some sort of mystical ability on the party itself, as if its mere existence would help spur his progress. And she had promised Mr. Swain that she’d bring guests. Granted, she’d been so elated at the idea of switching out the sets of jewelry without fuss that she would have promised anything, but…
Of course, she didn’t have the Saleri jewels in hand yet, either, now that she thought of it. She really needed to make sure they were secure first thing tomorrow.
But that was tomorrow. Tonight she could do this one thing…
She opened up her phone’s mail app, typing out a quick email to the queen, using her official email address instead of her private one. That meant the email would go through her administrative team first, but Caroline didn’t feel comfortable asking the queen directly. That would seem too much like plying her for a favor, and really she was simply hoping that the Queen had some knowledge of countrymen or women traveling in the US on the East Coast. She sighed. The US was a large country, and it was unlikely she’d find anyone like that, but she had to try. What happened after that was out of her control. Marguerite would certainly come, and Prudence, so she wouldn’t be arriving completely empty-handed. It would have to be enough.
As she stowed her phone, another sound bleated from her purse. She frowned, pawing through her bag in confusion, then realized that it must be Simon’s phone. Sure enough, she found the chirping device a few moments later. Without thinking, she pulled it out of her purse. Which way had he and his grandmother gone? She turned in that direction as she glanced back at the phone.
The words “Royal Superstition tour” seemed to leap out of the tiny text block. Caroline stopped short in the corridor, her eyes rapidly scanning the text. The texter wasn’t one of the senior citizens or a medical staff—but of course, why would it be? Simon was here, in person. If they needed to get a hold of him, they’d simply page him, not text.
Caroline willed her gaze away from the phone but not before another word caught her eye—Saleri. She scrolled the text down long enough to read the story that the texter had related to apparently a shared colleague, about the foibles of the Saleri family. It ended with the exhortation that despite the itinerary he’d sent them, Simon must include Garronia on his upcoming return overseas to gather more data for his book on superstitions.
This was none of her business—it was Simon’s private text stream! Caroline knew that, of course she knew that, and with a super human effort, she lifted her head, closing out of the text app. For good measure, she wiped the screen on a corner of her dress, as if she could somehow erase her touch from it. Not likely that she’d erase its impact on her, though, that much was certain.
A cold chill ran through her as she considered the situation as rationally as she could manage. Simon’s lecture had been well attended—and apparently, it had been a hit. He’d not breathed a word of it to her after that first night, but then again, she hadn’t made talking about it easy on him. She winced now, thinking of how he must have continued to laugh at her—her comments about her family, her reactions to every stupid corner of the Pinnacle House, her ridiculous antics with laying down the shell paths in the clearing. She was a walking poster child for eccentricity, and no doubt she’d have the pleasure of reading about herself in some future work authored by the illustrious Dr. Simon Blake.
“How stupid can I be,” Caroline muttered, tightening her lips. But Simon hadn’t done anything wrong, truly. He was simply doing his job. And in truth, he probably did harbor some affection for her—she hadn’t imagined all of that, surely. He’d asked her out on a date, lit all of those ridiculous, beautiful candles…
Caroline’s stomach twisted, and she winced anew. Had that been part of his plan, too, to get her to open up about more of her family’s stories? The call from the hospital had interrupted that effort, if so. She didn’t want to think so poorly of him, but—
“Caroline!” Simon and his grandmother were heading toward her now, their faces wreathed in smiles—especially his. As if he was actually glad to see her. With years of long practice, she brightened her own expression and picked up her pace, hurrying toward them.
“I’m so glad to find you—do you have any news? And your phone, I forgot to give it to you.”
Simon took the device and pocketed it without looking at it, his gaze solely on her. “Nothing new. The doctor hasn’t been back?”
She shook her head, then fell into step with them, glad that the waiting room was so close. She didn’t think she could keep up a pretense very long, and seeing Simon made her want to demand answers—answers to questions she’d not have known she should ask, except she’d just invaded the man’s privacy.
But it’s not like he hasn’t invaded mine.
“Caroline, dear, that woman is waving at you.” Belle’s voice seemed perplexed, and Caroline looked up to see Prudence sailing down the corridor, the epitome of sophistication in her long, flowing, soft blue pants and matching patterned tunic. Her hair was perfectly white and accentuated the delicate beauty of her blue eyes and silver earrings and necklace, her makeup as understated and lovely as always. Beside her, Cindy Marks strode with cool competence, her tight, muscular body seeming coiled to strike despite the affable smile on her face.
“That’s my cousin—second cousin. Excuse me.” Suddenly not wanting to share Prudence with anyone, Caroline hurried forward until she met the older woman in the middle of the hallway. When Prudence opened her arms to her she walked into the embrace, shocked at how much she needed it.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Prudence asked, squeezing her hard. Even her perfume was comforting, the scent of honeysuckle and lilac mingling together.
Caroline drew back, blinking away unbidden tears, and Prudence’s face tightened. “Oh no, is Simon’s grandfather not…”
“No! No, he—he should be fine,” Caroline said, shaking her head. “He’s had some procedures done but they think he’ll recover from the head trauma without issue. And his leg is broken, but—”
Her cousin smiled gently at her. “But broken bones are to be expected at our age, aren’t they,” she said, patting Caroline’s arm. “They’ve got excellent surgeons on staff here. He’s in good hands.”
“Yes,” Caroline agreed, though she really had no idea. Nevertheless, their movement was enough to distract her, and she’d almost regained her equilibrium as they stepped into the waiting room. Cindy stepped in with them, looked around, then nodded to Caroline with her usual efficiency.
“I’ll be back shortly. Rob’s pinged me and I want to make sure he’s in contact with Marguerite. I don’t want her coming home to an empty house without explanation.”
“Thank you, dear,” Prudence beamed, and Caroline
smiled at her gratefully. She hadn’t even thought of Marguerite in the middle of the excitement, but her name reminded her again of the damning evidence on Simon’s phone. What would Marguerite think about Simon’s proposed trip to Garronia? Would she be amused, or as irritated as Caroline was?
“Well, they’ve quite the contingent of friends, here, I should…” Prudence’s voice broke off, and when Caroline looked up, her second cousin was staring across the room, her normally serene expression marred by two sharp flags of color darkening her cheeks. Caroline swiveled her head to find what she was staring at, and blinked in surprise.
A man of about seventy years stood off to the side of the group, leaning on a cane, but otherwise tall and straight and quite handsome. Caroline remembered him from the day of the storm on Pearl Island, strolling back to town with his cane serving more as a walking stick than a crutch, the slightest stiffness to his step.
He’d been laughing and chatting with other younger members of the retirement community that day, but the expression on his face was currently one of absolute shock. And he was staring straight at Prudence.
“Prudence Melton,” he said, the words carrying across the sudden silence in the room. “I can’t believe it.”
Simon turned, frowning as Belle let out a tiny gasp, then with the polished ease of a woman who’d managed an inn for her entire adult life, she bustled forward to Caroline’s second cousin. “Well, as I live and breathe, leave it to Jack to remember a face all these years later. I’m Belle Wetherington, of Pinnacle House, but I doubt you’d recall that.”
“Of course I do,” Prudence said smoothly, and if she was lying, Simon couldn’t tell. The ability of southern women to be preternaturally polite in the face of surprise, sadness or abject horror had never ceased to amaze him. “I’ve heard wonderful things about Pinnacle House over the years, and it never failed to make me happy, though my own travels took me further away it seemed, not closer.”
Charmed: Gowns & Crowns, Book 6 Page 18
