Hidden Gabriel

by Pinder, Victoria

  Erica’s cheeks burned. Her mouth went dry, and she stared at the wife’s name. Tiffany. If they had met, Erica would have told her off. But then, Erica worked hard to keep her family together, not break other families apart. Women like Tiffany worked with a whole other set of rules. Her mother always spoke about the golden rule of ‘do onto others what you would have them do onto you’ in life, and Erica could never understand how any woman would be so heartless. Her toes curled while she almost choked on the fact that someone would intentionally hurt Gabriel.

  Poor Gabriel. Secrets had driven him into seclusion. She wasn’t wrong to defend him. One man for one woman was what she believed, and Gabriel would be enough for her. A laugh escaped her lips. Scared out of her wits, Erica’s solace came from that man’s warmth.

  She stared at the diary in her hands. If she read more now, the sour taste in her mouth would grow.

  So she shoved the diary in between her mattress and box spring. She had more questions, but couldn’t read any more.

  Her skin crawled. She stared in the mirror. Then she closed her eyes and relaxed. Gabriel’s hands on her back replayed in her mind, and her skin tingled. Where did he spend his days out of the apartment? His hands were callused and hard. Hard labor? What did he do all day? She pressed her ear to the wall. The sound of that machine buzzed.

  A thud echoed louder, but Erica shook her head. That must be the sound of the house.

  Huh, that connection made sense. He worked with his hands, and the chateau needed repairs. Gabriel had his project. If she spent her days alone, she’d need one too.

  With a shrug, she stood. If the Marines and war hadn’t done a number on the guy, his wife who cheated on him had. As she tilted her head, she rolled her shoulders.

  The secret room roared back into her thoughts. The answers might lie in the library. She smiled for the first time all day. She had a goal. If she freed him from his past, perhaps they would have a future. The snow had to melt eventually.

  No more regrets. The man gave everything physically. And at least he didn’t pine for that dead wife. No man she ever met dreamed of a so-called perfect love that wasn’t returned. He’d been a prize, so Erica just had to show him that she was not the same as his vain first choice. Trust mattered.

  Family always came first. The second she could leave, she’d run back to her mother’s side. Hopefully, she’d still be alive, and, who knew, perhaps she’d introduce Gabriel.

  A lump formed in her throat. Erica did not let her stupid fears get the better of her. A giggle escaped her mouth.

  Gabriel needed her right now.

  And for once she’d not date a man who depended on her for everything he had in life. That would be a welcome change. The man took care of himself and would obviously keep a secret to the grave.

  She covered her mouth to stop her smile. Then she found her shoes. What did Gabriel want in life that he spent all hours of the day working on it? A hum returned to her every move as she brushed her hair. She respected hard work. No personal achievement in life came without struggle, except for those people she read about. Erica respected only those with brains and the power to put thoughts into action.

  Gabriel’s forthrightness when it came to sex might be a mini version of what he was like at work. If so, she’d like him even more.

  The diary entry flashed in her mind. It sounded like Tiffany manipulated whoever Raphael was too. Then Erica thought about her sister’s hug the day she’d left years ago, but Erica’s fingers ached to hold her younger sister again too. Family was family. And his brother and he needed to be brought back together. Tiffany was dead.

  In the meantime, Erica had a mystery to solve. Was this house haunted? Erica refused to believe that. Supernatural stuff wasn’t normal. But something happened in the walls. More important were the secret chambers, and this room where Tiffany had betrayed Gabriel.

  No bang greeted her ears, but the buzz of machines echoed in the far distance.

  She mustn’t overdramatize the house noises.

  She reached for the doorknob, twisted it, and opened the door, but she hesitated for a moment. She squared her shoulders and closed the door behind her. Tiffany didn’t deserve Gabriel.

  A huge shadow in the shape of a giant grew on the wall. The shadow followed her everywhere. Erica stared at every wall, and within the second the shadow grew beside her. Footsteps echoed lightly, but it might be her own. Erica held her breath until she made it to the library.

  Nothing moved here. Erica inspected the walls. Tiffany had marked the wall somewhere. No colored spots were obvious wherever she gazed. Erica exhaled, then walked toward a heavy oak bookcase. If she were devious, then she’d hide the secret location. Was there nail polish on any walls behind bookcases in the library?

  Erica ran her hand through her hair. From a glance, nothing obvious stuck out, but there were a lot of books and bookshelves.

  Her shoulder burned still, but the pain had dulled.

  She stared at a copy of Jane Eyre. She could read that one too.

  Gabriel was a reader. His wife would have known that. If her secret room was here, Tiffany would have seen any affair here as an extra twist of the proverbial knife to his heart. Did Gabriel know his wife cheated on him with his brother? That was something that shouldn’t keep a hold on his heart. Not that it should matter, except she knew how hard it had been when her sister disappeared. Part of her own small family had gone, and Erica had wished to find Kimberly.

  Gabriel should find his brother and live in the real world with his family. Unless this Raphael was evil like Tiffany, but Erica’s heart refused to accept that.

  Gabriel needed to speak up, and she had this mystery to solve until he came back.

  All in all, because she was snowed in, it didn’t mean she had to stay bored. She’d find the secrets that lay in the walls.

  11

  In the kitchen, Erica’s nose twitched. She sniffed and stopped at the oven. The light was on, and something was cooking. She glanced around, but she didn’t see Gabriel. Curious, she opened the oven to peek inside. She inhaled, closed her eyes, and recognized the aroma. Chicken Piccata. Her mouth watered as she took the pan out.

  She stirred the sauce and then tasted it. Not bad. No one had tried to cook for her in years, not even her mother. Erica licked the spoon. Gabriel cooked pretty well. She pressed her lips together to taste the flavors of every morsel. Then she decided it needed more cream, and a hint of ginger would make the flavor more delish. Most people were afraid of the calories, but if good food fell off the fork for tenderness, the price was always worth the risk.

  And exercise cured a lot. She stayed fit.

  The wind howled outside the window again. In Miami, the only time wind scared her was in a bad hurricane, and this wasn’t anything near that caliber. She added the spice to the sauce and stirred.

  Her skin had goose bumps and a chill ran down her back. She shook off the sense someone stared at her, and finished mixing the cream into the dish. Then she adjusted the timer and placed it back in the oven. Finished, she stared at the wall for a second and swore she saw a shadow. “Who is here?”

  No answer. Wolves didn’t speak English. The shadow of a person’s face then grew softer, like it floated in the air. Erica rolled her shoulder to feel the soreness.

  She shook her head. Today she’d search the house. Finished with dinner, she headed back to the library and stared at the outer door to the lobby.

  Nail polish left a tiny line. First, she cleaned up the books she’d left near the couch and piled up everything. Her arms still had goose bumps. Outside, the wolves would be hungry. Erica swallowed, and her muscles relaxed. The gray clouds outside would eventually dissipate. The bright light of day would help her see more.

  Work cured her of fears. At least her mess was gone, though she didn’t glimpse any nail polish. This wall seemed the only one with a built-in bookcase. The others were all old-fashioned wood furniture.

  She sighed. The bo
okcases would be heavy to move. She fixed the books back on their shelves. Her body became hot from the work. She rubbed the back of her head and headed out into the drafty lobby. A few minutes in the bitter cold would defrost her internal oven.

  The lobby was cold, and could hold secrets too. The wind rushed through the room, and a chill greeted her. She blinked. The dust in here would be a nightmare to clean. A few days ago this room had been her salvation. The elegant woman with her clear blue eyes scowled in her picture, and the expression matched her diary. Erica twisted to stare at anything else. A shadow slipped past her vision. Her gaze followed the movement, but nothing was there. She chewed on her lip. She’d never believed in ghosts. So why did she still flinch?

  She looked toward the stairwell. There were more than two doors on the second floor, from what she could recollect and she’d ventured to the second door during her first look around. Her phone was useless now, but perhaps she could see some sign of a cell tower of sorts. If she saw human ingenuity outside the desolation, Erica told herself she’d make it through this winter.

  Curious, she pressed her lips together and zipped up her sweatshirt. She’d be fast. Gabriel wouldn’t come to dinner for another hour, at least. This time, in her dry sneakers, she took to the stairs and climbed up the creaky steps.

  Every step whispered she shouldn’t, but that was Erica’s imagination. The hall had little light except the huge window at the end. To get to the window, Erica needed to see. She pushed the nearest door open. Inside that room, she propped a chair out from a desk to hold it open. Light filtered into the hall. She tried again. One out of three doors weren’t locked, and opened. She kept the same procedure to add more light all the way till the end of the hall. If she could see, then she wouldn’t be scared. At last, she dragged the last chair in place and smiled to herself.

  Next time, if she came back up, she’d be fine. Light usually solved issues.

  At the last door, she stepped around the chair. She carefully slipped past it to the hall. She needed to go to look out the upper-floor window before night fell.

  As she peered down the mountain, she couldn’t even imagine where her rental car was or how far she had climbed the other day. Everything on the ground was white, and a gray sky with dark clouds dropped another dusting of snow.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  She covered her head with her hands and twisted around fast to watch all the doors slam in the hallway. She screeched. The doors made a huge banging noise and left her dark and deserted.

  She released her hands and hugged her sides. Panic never helped. She inhaled and took one more glance at the gray sky of the coming storm. Then she kept her head and wits about her and headed back downstairs.

  Something inside her screamed run. She swallowed and rushed down the black hallway, her heels squeaking on the wood. Erica stopped. She stared at her sneakers. That clack of heels wasn’t her. She scratched her head and stared at the wall again. Was someone there? She decided to push against the wall, but it was solid and steady. Her shoulder throbbed, and Erica decided it was just a wall. Finally, she made it back to the stairs that led to the lobby. Where was Gabriel? The sun still gave off enough light to show her the way down. At the bottom step, she crossed her arms to hug herself.

  The place was frigid.

  Again, she heard nothing, and no shadows played in the corners of her eyes. Even though she thought she was calm, her footsteps pounded the ground. She kept her mind on the word safe. Then she flung open the library door and, with a quick breath of air, slammed the door behind her. The apartment held such warmth from the crackle of the fireplace. Her skin grew goose bumps.

  In a daze, she stared at the fire, and her heartbeat normalized from the fast thump. She needed to find Gabriel.

  She heard Gabriel clear his throat behind her. He walked toward her.

  He was here. She stared up and met his dark, sexy gaze.

  He motioned with his hands and said, “There you are, Erica. Dinner is ready.”

  Where had he been today? No. Gabriel wouldn’t hide in the walls or clack in heels. His footsteps calmed her. She shook off the thought and licked her lips. She’d been foolish before. Slowly, she raised her eyes and offered him a small, slow smile. “I’m impressed. Are you eating with me?”

  He winked at her. “Unless you want me to leave.”

  “No.” She ran over to him to tug on his arm. She inhaled his spice, and she couldn’t help the smile that quickly formed on her lips. “Stay. I’m happy. You’re my only company, and my savior. The sky is a mess out there.”

  “Three storms in a row is highly unusual.” He nodded and then ran his hands down her arms. “You’re freezing again.”

  She clenched him in a tight hug, and he hugged her back. Good. She needed him right now. His hard body warmed her up. “I was exploring upstairs.”

  “Next time, take a jacket.” He rubbed her back. “And be careful. It’s not safe in most of this place.”

  “I can’t stay still with nowhere to go.”

  He stared at her. “If you wish to explore, take a flashlight from the laundry room.”

  Oh. At least he hadn’t told her to stay cooped up in her room. She nodded into his chest and let out the tension she’d been holding. “Or I could go with you and help with whatever you’re doing.”

  He shook his head. “If I had my way, you’d stay in the apartment where it’s safe and not explore anything.”

  She held her head higher. “I’d be safe with you.”

  He froze. “No, you’d distract me, and where I am all day, that would end in disaster.”

  She sighed. “I wish you’d show me where you are all day in case I need you.”

  He nodded.

  She held her tongue. She had won that argument. The silence clung in the air. He sighed and told her, “Remember to bundle up in more than a sweatshirt. We can’t have you getting sick. I’m not a good nursemaid.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  He let go to step back, but she wouldn’t let him. She picked up his hard hands and kissed his knuckle. Then, with a heavy sigh, she stepped away. “We all have our talents. I enjoyed you keeping me warm. Your hands are callused from manual labor.”

  He walked into the kitchen behind her, not saying a word. She let the silence hang in the air.

  She stared at him. He found plates and sat beside her, and then gazed at the ground. She refused to talk until he did. He fixed the silverware, then broke the quiet. “I’m remodeling the entire chateau. Over the summer I updated the roof, and last year handled the outside. This year I’m going inch by inch through this house, laying new floors, fixing the walls, and whatever else is needed. My tools and you sound like a dangerous combination.”

  The buzz within the walls was him, but that didn’t account for the creepy noises. She reached over and took her plate, then corrected her silverware he set in the wrong order. He stared at her changes, then moved his spoon. She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “The lobby and guestrooms were deserted and untouched.”

  She gulped, then tilted her head. “Are you going to fix all the creaks in the stairs?”

  “Yes.” His shoulders relaxed. “I’m working on the back rooms first. Back when this was a hotel, the staff complained the most about sounds and ghosts. The lifeblood of any good hotel is efficiency, and this place needs a lot of work.”

  She choked on her breath for that second. “Ghosts?”

  He shook his head. “There is no such thing. There has to be something that echoes that frightened people.”

  Of course. “That’s good. The doors all slammed shut upstairs.”

  “There must be a draft up there.” He shrugged. “I’ve not touched a guest room.”

  Old houses made noises. The draft sounded logical. She smiled encouragingly and nodded. “So you plan on reopening?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t really care, but it’s something to do.” He shrugged, then stared off into the distance. “I moved bac
k here to work, alone. My doctor recommended working with my hands to push past everything else. I’m not good at keeping company anymore.”

  Again, she raised her eyebrows at him and smirked. He then gazed at her. “I would bet money you were never good at keeping company. You possess an ‘I do what I want’ personality.”

  A smile cracked his serious face, and his entire face brightened. “I’m from Connecticut, the land of the suburbanites. My parents raised us to be upper-class snobs, though I did rebel.”

  “Like Mr. Darcy, I imagine.”

  He tilted his head. “I never read Pride and Prejudice. It’s a girly book.”

  Her eyes widened, and she smiled. “But you know about it?”

  “My mother and sister loved that book.” He shrugged. “I haven’t seen them in a long time”

  “You have a sister?”