by Susan Arden
“Ah, Mrs. Wells,” she murmured, a smile unfolding on Shay’s face as she fondly recalled her parents’ housekeeper.
Fin opened the door on Drake’s side and he climbed out, turned and held his hand out to her. When she placed her palm flush to his, he pulled her up and she expected to meet her mother's gaze, standing at the top of the steps, but the doorway remained manned by a solitary Mrs. Wells, and her stomach sank. Her mother had always been one to wait at the door when she’d arrived home from college. She’d grown up with Mom meeting Dad each night come rain, snow, or sleet. Something must be terribly wrong. Mom’s not at the doorway.
Wait, before sounding the alarm.
Drake took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. He guided her up the front steps and she smiled at Mrs. Wells. “Welcome home, Shannon.”
“It’s so good to be back,” she replied and hugged the housekeeper she’d known since she was a baby. They followed Mrs. Wells inside and Drake helped her off with her coat.
“You’re looking lovely, dear,” Mrs. Wells remarked, fluttering about and then she leaned over, whispering to Drake. “And you, Mr. O’Connor. Proud as a peacock I suspect with two wee ones on the way.”
“How did you … ” Shay replied.
“Your brother, of course. Told your mama and me as soon as he came home. I know we’re not to speak of it out in the open, and there’s been a hullabaloo going on with men and women coming and going all day.”
“Because?” Shay asked, looking up at Drake.
“Security system the likes I can’t imagine. Crews of technicians working around the clock and the scads of guards. The grounds are crawling with them. Take a look around and you’ll see … if you look closely,” Mrs. Wells winked. “I imagine that’s the point though. They dress all in black. We also have a man from the Den here helping prepare food for the troops.”
“Who is here?” Drake asked, his eyes glowing.
Shawn appeared at the end of the hall. “I checked everyone out so don’t worry. But in case you’re interested, you’re back in our system and can login same as before.”
She went to her brother. “Is Mom all right?”
“She’s a little tired. Nothing to worry about. Mom’s sitting by the fire and waiting to see you. She’s asked about a dozen times where you were. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Wells?”
“I dare say more like hundred. Dinner is almost ready. Come in and have a glass of wine or hot cider. I’ll go see about dinner and let you know when it’s ready to be served.”
“Very good,” Shawn said, sounding like the man of the house. They walked by a wall of photographs. Her eyes scanned them, remembering them all. Her gaze lingered on a black and white taken of her brother a few years back and her heart squeezed.
When she’d been in high school, her brother was a badass, just getting into the business scene but he’d been hurt when he’d gone that route, diving in deep and forming a mating bond with his business partner, a woman who’d royally screwed him over with their cousin. What a cluster of crap had gone down. So bad that Tristen and Fin had to get Shawn serious healer help, taking her brother all the way to Tibet, to a tiny village up in the Himalayas.
She’d be the first to be married and she glanced down at her engagement ring. “Look what I received tonight.” She presented her hand up to Shawn and smiled at Drake. “Isn’t it stunning?”
“Damn. Go big or don’t go at all. Is that the Navy SEAL motto?” Shawn gazed down at her finger with a surprised glint in his eyes, and chuckled. “It’s bigger than that ice rink we used to practice at downtown.”
“Tiffany’s. What’d you expect from a dragon,” she replied. “He’s a little over-the-top but definitely a keeper.”
“Now who’s calling the kettle on the carpet?” Drake retorted. “Baby, you created the term ‘over-the-top.’”
“Frankly, you both rank high on everyone’s chart so stop arguing,” Shawn muttered. “You were made for one another.”
She laughed and leaned into Drake. “He might have a point.”
He put his arm over her shoulder and she nestled against him, walking into her old home, feeling a little more at ease—even under some very tense times. When they entered the living room, her attention immediately spiked with the scent of her mother nearby. She redirected her eyes from the twin sofas to the wing chair near the fireplace and would have missed her mother had Mom not yawned. Her eyes widened and Shay struggled to maintain a poised expression. Oh my dear God! Her mom stared at her with a blank expression, as if she didn’t recognize her. A vague smile lifted the corners of her mouth, but Mom wasn’t looking at her, she was focused on a woman … a nurse by the look of her starched uniform.
“Mom, look who’s here,” Shawn said as he approached their mother. “Shay and Drake just arrived.”
Her mother’s brow knitted. “Who?”
“Hello, Mom. I’ve missed you,” Shay said haltingly as she continued to observe Mom and her lack of a reaction. Worried, she lowered to her mom’s eye level and hugged her only to receive a vague pat on her arm.
Drake helped her rise with his curled fingers around her elbow. When he drew her upward, she turned and glanced at him, meeting his calm eyes. She latched onto his strength to buoy her flagging confidence at the state of her mom.
“Good evening, Amelia.” Drake stepped forward and reached out his hand to her mom.
Slowly, her mom raised her hand and shook his hand, unblinking as she stared up at Drake with a ‘who the heck is this’ written all across her features. The very same look Mom had given her. The way Drake held the tips of her mom’s hand, she could imagine his impression—unless she linked to him—she’d feel what he felt. But that would mean by-passing her own rule about mind linking. But this was important—crap, another rule broken! She focused on breaching his mind and instantly absorbed the sensation of him grasping her mom’s hand. What is going on—what the hell has happened to my mom?
The nurse patted her mom’s shoulder and said something but she linked back to Drake’s mind.
I’m so confused. This is worse than what I imagined!
Kitten, take it easy. Remember, you haven’t heard the real story. Your mom appears to be in some sort of shock … perhaps a loss of memory.
Shay returned. You’re right. We need to sit down with Shawn … and the doctors. I want some answers.
The dinner bell rang from the dining room but it was the nearby commotion that caught her attention. The nurse lifted a wool throw, uncovering her mom’s lap, cautioning Amelia to wait before getting up as she scooted to the edge of the chair.
Before Mom rose out of the chair with the help of her brother and the nurse alone, Shay stopped her mental whining. “Let me help,” she said, coming to the other side of her mother. “Is it all right, Mom?”
Mom turned her golden gaze to her and nodded. “Thank you. My, you look lovely, dear.”
She couldn’t tell if her mom recognized her or was simply being polite. “So do you. You let your hair grow out.”
“Hold on, Sis.” Shawn waved his hands. “Let us do the lifting.”
The nurse took one of Mom’s arms and Shawn her other and before she could complain, they had Amelia out of the chair. Once out of the chair, her mom appeared less incapable. She actually appeared more stable on her feet, but then she bounded forward and almost tripped and she understood there was some motor issue also involved in her mom’s concerning condition. Her stomach plummeted further as she took a seat at the table across from Drake. The table could have easily sat twenty-four people when all the leaves were inserted; still it was long and had been in their family for generations. She glanced down at her lap for a second, wondering about Dad. If Shawn pronounced that their mother was doing better, where did that place their father on the scale of health and well-being? She peered across the table and met her mom’s unwavering stare.
“How long are you here for?” her mom asked.
“We aren’t sure,
” she replied quizzically, unsure how it was possible that now Mom appeared more focused. Shay refrained from casting a concerned gaze down the table to her brother. Alrighty, definitely answers were in order on her mother’s condition. “For a few weeks. At least.”
Dinner proceeded with more questions but those were mostly tossed back and forth between Drake, Shawn and herself with her mom following along but for the most part, she said little. Ate little. She had a different meal prepared. A bowl of soup—or food pureed into a liquid form that she half-ate, and even that required prodding by Shawn. Shay could hardly swallow a morsel, as she sat there overwrought, battling with her feelings of guilt coupled with her growing outrage.
But she wasn’t stupid, after meeting Drake’s expression in which he leveled her with an arched brow and softly growled, “Watch it. Just simmer down.”
Fine, she mouthed. Smiling across the table at him, she cleared her mind and nodded back to him. Oh she’d watch it all right. Come tomorrow, she fully intended on uncovering how big a part Dimitri Necrodemas played in this totally fucked up mess. Last summer, she’d run away from Denver, from her family like a scared little rabbit. She’d been a fool to hide from that jackwad. Not now!
When Drake went to his family, she wasn’t about to sit around and knit a blanket or watch cable television. God, she’d done enough of that down in Harmony. If there was one thing she’d learned from Drake it was that a good plan involved several steps, so she carefully kept her thoughts on the down low, just in case he happened to slip into her mind. These weren’t the type of thoughts he could hear and be pleased. Not her over the top fiancé. Hell no. He’d do something to limit her ability to run free like he’d done last summer in Lisbon. Carefully, she kept a seamless chatter of nonsense running through her mind. Each time she wanted to add something to her to-do list, she glanced around the dining room and focused on some object, recalling an event from her childhood that took place here, anything to keep rambling ideas at rest.
“Mom, do you still play bridge?” she asked.
Amelia’s eyes widened and she smiled. “Sometimes. With Glenda.”
Shawn interjected, “One of the nurses.”
“And your hot house. The orchids?”
“There’s one there that just came into bloom.” Amelia pointed to the side table. “Cymbidium Kiwi Midnight. Popular name is Geyseyland.”
“My goodness. It’s jaw-dropping.” And it was, with maroon-colored petals that ran so dark as to appear black. A memory jarred loose; one she’d forgotten about until this second. “It’s one of your black orchids. I thought they all … ” Her voice trailed off. Shay recalled a few black orchid species Mom had preened over when she was growing up, but they’d perished one summer. Didn’t do well because of an intense heat wave or was it a cold snap?
“Mrs. Wells,” Mom called. “Please bring the leopard orchid in from the den.”
“Would you like to have coffee and brandy in the sitting room?” Mrs. Wells asked. “I could bring it there.”
“No,” Amelia spoke assuredly, sounding more like her old self. “Too much fuss in getting up and moving.”
“Very well.” Mrs. Wells nodded and disappeared.
Shawn had risen during the intersession. “Mom, I’m taking Drake outside for a cigar.”
Mom smiled. “Your father has a secret stash of Cohibas in his desk.”
Drake met her gaze and smiled, and she shrugged, more confused than ever. Mrs. Wells returned, carrying a small urn with a yellow dappled orchid that resembled leopard print. “Very delicate,” Mrs. Wells murmured, setting the pot on the table.
“What’s this one called?” Shay asked her mom.
“Lophiaris silverarum. Very, very rare. From Panama.”
“Excuse me,” Mrs. Wells interjected, “would you care for coffee? Or tea?”
“Please bring tea,” Amelia said. For the next fifteen minutes, her mom talked about nothing but flowers, pouring and serving her a cup of tea. Then without warning and as if a switch had been turned off, she stared, unblinking, back at Shay, her face set in a glazed expression. “Are you here for the night shift?” Mom asked in a soft voice.
“It’s time, Mrs. Barclay,” the nurse announced, coming into the dining room.
“Mom?” Shay stood up from the table.
Her mother rose without a word, accompanied the nurse out of the dining room, and walked up to her room at the top of the stairs as Shay followed. “Mom, I’ll help you get ready for bed. Okay?”
Mom didn’t respond but kept her eyes lowered. How is this fluctuation possible? The nurse made no comment and Shay socked yet one more question into her bank of ‘need to know.’ Stat!
She helped the nurse settle her mother upstairs in her parents’ bedroom. Changed Mom into a nightgown, brushed her hair, and watched her take a small medicine cup with different colored pills. After helping Mom into bed, she sat by her side, watching the nurse take her mother’s vital signs. Even though this on again—off again switch randomly occurred, Amelia didn’t appear in pain or in turmoil. Shay sat still and watched the steady rise and fall of her mother’s chest and her relaxed expression as her eyes drifted closed. Things could be so much worse. At least, while she helped search for a solution—a cure—her mother wasn’t tortured.
“Goodnight,” Shay whispered to the nurse, not wanting to wake her mom.
When she turned around, Amelia was awake again and held open her arms. “It was so nice to see you, dear. When will I see you again?”
“I’d like to come back for a visit,” Shay replied. “While Drake is … attending to business.”
“Just set up an appointment,” Amelia said. Shay glanced at her mother, unable to determine if Mom knew she was her daughter or not.
She walked out of the room and instead of going downstairs, she continued down the hall and paused in front of her old room. Opening the door, she stood at the threshold and peered inside. Her bedroom remained unchanged since she’d last been there. Same pale pastel mint walls, black lacquered furniture, and gauzy curtains. Only the light from the doorway cast any illumination into the room, but with her night vision, she scanned countless trinkets and keepsakes that littered the surfaces. The room was kept just as she’d left it and for an instant her heart thudded painfully against her ribs as she recalled all that had passed. Closing the door, she retraced her footsteps toward the stairs, meeting the nurse coming out of her mom’s room.
“Oh goodnight, Miss Barclay,” the nurse said again. “Your mother had a nice evening. Will we see you tomorrow night?”
“I’m hoping,” she replied.
Shay returned downstairs to the library. It looked like Shawn had taken up residency within the room with folders strewn over the desk. Her father had always kept the place neat and tidy. Now a large computer had been set up with multiple screens. She sat down and typed ‘Necrodemas’ into the search engine. Page after page came back in her search, most of it PR propaganda. She needed real information, not this engineered bullshit.
Drake returned from smoking a cigar outside, and she jumped, her eyes going wide. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.” Since the afternoon of sensually joining with Drake she felt as if she’d stepped onto a rollercoaster and had yet to disembark. She could have easily attributed the spikes and valleys of her feelings to hormones except what she felt wasn’t simply emotional. There were haunting nuances of psychic, soul-deep feelings that were novel to her leopardess primal senses. Just like Drake had described, an itch she couldn’t scratch, but this was more like a monsoon that had taken over her emotional horizon. She felt out of sorts and without solid ground to stand on, and she didn’t entirely trust herself. Any second she felt ready for the mother of all emotional earthquakes to befall her and she was sure she’d burst apart. It felt like a fracture line ran the length of her being, and she waited, afraid to take a breath for fear she’d shatter into a gazillion pieces.
“Would you like something before we leave?” D
rake asked, touching his fingers to her face.
“Yes.” She trained her gaze on Drake and Shawn. “Real answers. I want to know everything about Dimitri Necrodemas. I have a right. Either you get the info or I’ll go find it myself.”
Shawn and Drake exchanged a slow look and they both gave a curt nod simultaneously as if in agreement. “I’ll have a file box delivered,” Shawn replied.
“That you’re only to read,” Drake replied forcefully.
“What else do you think I’ll do? Pregnant and almost time to deliver? Your imagination is in overdrive.” She shook her head and laughed, heading to go get her coat and trying to hide the heated blush creeping up her neck and over her cheeks.
On the front porch, she leaned into Drake’s warmth, stifling a yawn of exhaustion. The babies must have felt the pressure of exhaustion as well, and hardly stirred by the time Fin had brought the car around. During the ride home, she and Drake didn’t say much. She nestled under his arm while he traced her fingers, kissing the side of her head, and every so often murmured her name in his deep voice. By the time the car pulled up the Den, her eyes felt heavy and Drake shushed her as he lifted her and carried her upstairs.
After he removed her clothes, he took her face between his hands, kissing her firmly on the lips. “I’ll be out in the living room.”
“Don’t leave,” she said suddenly awake.
“You need your rest,” he replied, brushing his fingers along the edge of her mouth.
“What I need is you.” She held up the sheets and watched him slowly peel off his jacket and remove his tie. The sexiest striptease she’d had from him yet.
