by Adrianne Lee
“I believe the girl is intelligent enough to figure out this was before our great grandfather’s time, March, but the history is too colorful not to be told.”
Spencer cocked his head to one side in the gesture April was beginning to find annoyingly distracting. “Weren’t the islands also noted as the headquarters for hoodlums, adventurers, disappointed gold seekers and all sorts of other lawless characters in those early days?”
August nodded, obviously finding his subject as delicious as his dessert. “Absolutely! The locale offered excellent hiding places. Opium and diamonds were also prime smuggling items, then later wool and, of course during Prohibition, liquor. Great granddad had his fingers in at least one of those messy pies because this old house is full of secret passages and underground tunnels.”
“Really? What fun! I’d love to see them. Thane, you must take me on a tour.” Vanessa twinkled at her fiancée.
“Don’t get too excited, Darling.” Thane interjected. “Most of the passageways have been walled off—for the obvious reason of safety.”
“Ohhhhh…that’s too bad.” Vanessa’s disappointment lasted mere seconds before she returned her attention to August. “Is there some history behind the family being named for different months?”
Before he could answer, Helga brought in fresh coffee and began refilling cups. August took the opportunity to finish the last of his dessert.
April shoved her bowl aside and reached for the sugar. She added a lump to her coffee and stirred slowly. Her gaze wandered to her father. While the others either doctored their coffee with sugar or cream or merely accepted it straight, he reached into the pocket of his beige corduroy jacket for his pipe and tobacco pouch. By the time he took his first puff, spoons had been set on saucers, expectant glances on August.
He laid the pipe in the ashtray. “Octavius’ fascination with chronology is the source of the house’s name. As to the family, he married six times and buried all six wives. He lived to the age of one hundred, and he was a prolific old devil—had lots of children with each wife. He named the first seven after the days of the week, and then started with the months of the year, then the signs of astrology. ‘Course not all the children lived, but fourteen did, and they passed the tradition on through the generations.”
“How wonderful! Not every family can claim a genuine black sheep.” Vanessa spoke with enthusiasm.
“Isn’t she a darlin’? As if a family’s black sheep are somethin’ to be proud of.” Cynthia grabbed for Vanessa’s hand, causing the emerald to glare at April and bounce her thoughts back to the question of Lily’s jewelry.
What had become of the other expensive pieces? she wondered. It took little imagination to conjure a picture of the dazzling gems ensconced in Cynthia’s bedroom wall safe. An odd sense of jealousy warred inside April. It wasn’t that she wanted any of the jewelry herself. She had no use for such high priced baubles. The truth was baser. Cynthia didn’t deserve to inherit Lily’s jewelry, especially not if what April feared were true. In fact the very idea of owning any of it, of touching it, of wearing it, stole all breathable air from the room. She had to get out of there.
Lurching to her feet, April excused herself. She retrieved her parka from her bedroom closet and wrestled into it on her way down the back stairs. In the kitchen she came across Karl. He was alone, seated at the black and white table, drinking from a mug. Eyeing the dirty dishes scattered about him, she assumed he’d just finished eating his own dinner.
He gave his shockingly blond hair a shake and cast an assessing gaze at her. Then half-rising out of his chair, he asked. “You need me to fire up the ferry?”
“No. I’m just going for a walk.”
“In the dark?”
“It’s not that dark.”
Karl shrugged. “You look like you could use a friend. I’m a good listener, if you want company.”
“Thanks. Maybe some other time.”
Helga chose that moment to arrive with an armload of dishes. April turned toward the laundry room, but she could feel Karl’s eyes on her. As she opened the back door, she heard Helga say, “Karl, do you think you might help me with these?”
Outside, the brisk post-rain air stung her cheeks and filled her nostrils with its clear sharp scent. Her lungs reached for the sweet breath, and April felt her distress begin to disperse. Through the scudding clouds overhead, she could make out an occasional star, but the roiling black masses darted across the moors, blinking its illumination off, then on, in erratic sequence, bringing to mind a lighthouse beam searching the ground for survivors after a storm.
Over the years, she had survived may a storm. This time would be no different. Trying to ignore her niggling doubts, she pushed the deep collar of the red jacket against her ears, shoved her hands into her pockets, and set a course for the stand of firs at the left side of the house. She strode along the time worn path leading to the cliff above the bay, letting go of her tension with each step..
As she neared the source of the noisy surf, pungent salty air rushed at her from all sides, nearly drowning April in a gigantic wave of familiarity. How often had she walked this path, struggling to understand some new cruelty foisted on her by Lily? April ground to a halt, shook her head and expelled an exasperated sigh. God, how Lily had managed to hurt her. The old pain crowded into her mind as dark and agitated as one of the clouds overhead, carrying with it the sting of tears. Why had Lily been so afraid of growing old that she’d rejected the love of her only child, making her dress like a ten- year-old at the age of fourteen?
The memory provoked her to scoop a twig from the ground and smack the nearest tree trunk. April cursed out loud, then tossed the leafy whip away and picked up her pace as though she could outrun her thoughts. So, she wasn’t as immune to her mother’s behavior as she liked to think. At least now she understood the problem was Lily’s—an obsession—not something lacking in herself. But being unable to confront her mother left a lingering frustration she hadn’t quite learned to let go of.
She was breathing hard by the time she left the woods behind, but the anxiety stayed with her. Buried somewhere in the recesses of her mind was a possibility April still couldn’t face. Had she already confronted her mother—twelve years ago—at the edge of the basement stairs?
If only she could talk to Dr. Merritt. Yes, Nancy had said she was only a phone call away, however, April doubted the good doctor would qualify her present state as an emergency. They had already discussed her apprehensions, and until she regained some significant memory, there was nothing Nancy could do but reassure her. Maybe that was all she really wanted. Reassurance—that she couldn’t have done what she feared the most.
Lost in thought, April had no idea how long she’d been walking along the edge of the cliff. Foggy patches had sneaked unnoticed across her path. She shivered. Having grown used to the arid climate of Arizona, she’d forgotten how quickly fog could occur here at this time of year.
Ahead, she spied an old friend: a massive rock, shaped significantly like a huge turtle. A wistful smile tugged at her mouth and stilled her steps. She’d spent many hours perched on that humpy “shell” watching the bay for pods of killer whales, but the rock was a mile from the house. She hadn’t meant to walk this far. Promising herself to come back one day soon, she reversed direction.
The return trip seemed somehow longer, the path more precarious. It was the swirling fog and the increasing breezes, she told herself. As she picked her way along, the wind whined across the precipice, touched her with ghostly breaths, and escaped into the trees beyond, whispering through the gnarled timbers like a moaning phantom.
Then she heard it. “A-a-pril-l-l-l….”
The fine hairs on the nape of her neck prickled. Was it some trick of the wind?
Nearby, a twig snapped. April spun toward the woods at her side, feeling her heartbeat triple. “Is someone there?”
No answer. Was it an animal? The island teemed with nocturnal critters. A deer perha
ps? Or a mother raccoon scavenging food for her babies? Yes, that was it. She willed herself to relax, fighting the urge to walk faster. Her imagination was too good, too open to suggestion.
Then she heard it again. Low. Eerie. Riding on the breeze. “A-a-pril-l-l-l….”
And something else. A heavy footfall. Crashing through the trees at her side. Coming closer.
Alarm put wings to her feet. Running parallel to the woods, she fled along the precipice as fast as the limited light and the slick ground allowed. Her pulse thudded in her ears, simulating the resounding tide. She heard only the wind and surf. Was it following her?
April glanced over her shoulder. It was too dark to tell. She swung back around and lurched ahead.
Her feet struck loose pebbles.
She pitched forward.
Off balance.
The wind knocked from her lungs as she landed half-on and half-off the edge of the cliff. A thunderous splash exploded from the dark void below her, and briny spatters of water reached to graze her face. She felt herself slipping. Dear God, she was going to die. April flailed the air. Her fingers caught something leafy. A bush. She grasped for dear life, kicking and pulling, relinquishing her beige flats to the water abyss.
At length, she managed to wrench herself to solid ground. Fear and pain dissolved in the joy of being safe, alive. For precious seconds, April savored the dank smell of the earth, thinking it the sweetest odor she’d ever encountered.
The then the sound came again.
“A-a-pril-l-l-l….”
Although her breath burned in her lungs, April staggered to her feet and stumbled on. A few minutes later, she was forced to stop again. The ground ahead was a mixture of gravel, broken seashells, and sand. It would flay the skin off her bare feet. She’d have to take her chances in the woods. Her frantic gaze searched the section of cliff she had just traversed, seeking any sign of her pursuer. Good. So far she was alone. At least through the cover of the trees, she could travel slower and incur less injury.
Before she could stir, the clouds parted, illuminating a figure on the path about a hundred feet behind her. The wind carried off her startled scream. It was a man. A man she knew.
Why was he chasing her, deliberately trying to scare her? For a split second pale gray eyes met aqua eyes, then the churning clouds squelched all light. April stood stock-still with her heart threatening to explode inside her chest.
Was the man Thane or Spence?
She ducked into the trees. Right now it didn’t matter who was chasing her, it only mattered that she get safely back to the house. She could figure out the identity of her hunter and why he was hunting her then.
Staying clear of the path, she moved gingerly, picking a makeshift trail through the tangled undergrowth. The damp earth sucked at her numbed feet like the hurt sucking at her spirits.
Camouflaged stickers and taloned limbs clawed at her hair and stabbed her feet, but the shock coursing through her bloodstream, and the certain knowledge that her pursuer was near, that he was one of the twins, deadened her awareness to physical pain.
After what seemed an eternity, April spotted the lights of Calendar House glowing through the trees and patchy fog like bright yellow beacons. The sight gave her heart.
Panting, she rounded the last stand of trees and veered toward the house. A dark form reared up in her path.
A message telegraphed from her brain to her feet too late for retreat.
They collided.
Her screams fled on the wind.
Two strong arms snapped around her like a sprung trap, pinning her upper arms to her sides, her hands against the man’s chest. She tried ineffectually to struggle free, to pound her fists, but his grip was as restrictive as a straightjacket.
Chapter Five
Even through her heavy clothes, he could feel the erratic thud of her heart. “Hey, it’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Recognizing Spence’s voice, April felt her knees go weak. Without questioning why, she quit struggling, and buried her fear and her cheek in the rough suede of his sheepskin coat. It smelled of spicy aftershave and cold and rain-freshened salt air. Her breath slowed. Within minutes she realized she felt warm, secure, and wondered how she could have been so frightened of this man one moment, then feel so safe in his arms the next?
Spencer felt the trembling in April’s body dissipate while deep inside himself a subtle quaking commenced. The swift tenseness in his gut startled him. What was he doing? This was a mistake! Hell, under the circumstances, it was dead wrong. He had no right to harbor such feelings toward this woman. Even less right to act on them.
The nervous clouds overhead abandoned their jealous vigil of the moon at the same time Spencer relinquished his grip on April. She stumbled backward, blinking from the sudden effusion of moonlight as much as from Spencer’s abrupt release.
All the worry he’d felt when he’d spotted her running along the cliff rushed into him with a renewed vengeance. “What were you thinking, wandering about with a fog bank rolling in? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”
Confusion and hurt tangled inside April. She stepped farther away from Spencer. Where did he get off berating her? “The only danger I faced was you!” What a fool she was, falling into his arms and clinging to him like some shrinking violet. Every time she got near Spencer, her reasoning took a leave of absence. Well, R&R was over. “Why were you following me?”
His dark brown eyebrows rose, but his voice was menacingly low. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
Unexpected, this question brought April up short. “No. What does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s after ten. Your father has the whole household looking for you!”
Heat furled into her cheeks. Good Lord, she’d nearly plunged off a cliff trying to get away from Spencer all because she’d let her imagination run wild. Embarrassed at her own foolishness, she couldn’t meet his reproving gaze. “Oh…. Well, I…I hadn’t realized how late it was, or that anyone would fret.”
For the first time, Spencer noticed the twigs and leaves in her hair, the scrapes on her face and hands, the mud on her clothes. And lastly, her bare feet. “What the hell happened to you? Where are your shoes?”
His harsh tone uprooted April’s chagrin faster than a gardener pulling weeds. Her hands landed on her hips and this time, prodded by the defiance heating her blood, she met his icy gaze with one of her own. “I lost them when I stumbled at the edge of the cliff.”
“My God, woman! You could’ve been killed!”
“Well, I wasn’t. Granted, I’m muddy and my pride is hurt, but otherwise, I’m fine.” Fine? That was a laugh. Her body ached in places she suspected she’d be too aware of in the morning, but she’d be damned if she’d let him know that.
She shoved past him, but he caught her by the arm. “Fine my hide! You’re quivering like a jelly fish. You’ll catch pneumonia standing barefooted on this damp ground.”
Before April could protest, Spencer scooped her into his arms and hauled her against his chest so hard, she could have sworn a rib cracked. If the gleam in his alluring gray eyes hadn’t stopped any struggle or objection she’d started to raise about being carried back to the house, his words did. “Save your breath. This issue is not open to discussion.”
Accepting the inevitable along with the welcome respite from the pain biting at her feet, April lifted her arms and locked her fingers behind Spencer’s neck, capturing the thick, coffee-brown hair at his nape beneath her palms. The intimate contact sparked a wild memory of his lips on hers, and for a few uncomfortable seconds he, too, seemed to be remembering.
Thane and Vanessa emerged from the woods. Like children caught playing doctor, April and Spencer flinched.
“Well, thank God you found her. Is she all right?” The tension in Thane’s voice was as subtle as the perpetual murmur of waves in the background.
However, Spencer knew exactly what his twin was thinking. He’d
promised Thane he’d steer clear of April and here he was, caught like a groom ready to carry his bride across the threshold. The analogy struck his heart and drew blood. “She lost her shoes running along the cliff. She’s a little cold and muddy, nothing a warm bath and some hot brandy won’t cure.”
“Lost her shoes….” Vanessa hugged her arms around her middle, rustling the slick, Irish-green fabric of her ankle-length, quilted coat. “How in the world…?”
“She can explain in the house.” Spencer boosted her higher in his arms. “It’s freezing out here.”
As Thane and Vanessa hurried ahead to inform the others that she’d been found, April tried to ignore the gentle jostling of her body against Spencer’s strong arms and his firm chest. Her inner turmoil ground her emotions until they felt as grimy and achy as her feet. Why has she been so quick to believe he had been chasing her on the cliff with intent to do her harm? Was it this place, this time of year? Whatever the cause, she knew instinctively it had its origins in her lost memory and Lily’s fatal accident. But how was she going to explain that to her family?
* * * *
The family gathered in the den, warming themselves before the fire and fussing over her. April didn’t know what to think. In Arizona, she lived alone. No one monitored her comings and goings. All this unexpected concern was somewhat overwhelming. It felt strange, and rather nice.
Cynthia, who had surprisingly assumed the role of nurse, knelt over a pan of water, tending her injured feet. She knew the woman was being gentle as possible, but nevertheless, soap in an open wound stung.
Pressing a warm snifter into April’s hand, her father said, “Drink up, honey. This is guaranteed to cure what ails you.”
If only it were that easy, she thought, catching a whiff of the sharp-scented liquor. The first sip burned a fiery path across her tongue and drew tears into her eyes, but the warm sensation it created inside was amazingly pleasant. With her eyes closed and her head thrust against the high-backed leather chair, she could almost block out the pain.
