WindSwept Narrows: #7 Francine Kendall

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  He was looking down when the door opened, his vision beginning on the ten bare, bright red toe nails, a soft swirl of gold skirt and silver pocket watch dangling from her waist. Long blond hair hung loosely around her face and over her shoulders, a pair of large circular wire rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose.

  “Miss Kendall,” Donovan met the bright green eyes with a long sigh.

  “Mr. Banner, please, won’t you come in?” She stepped back, her fingers wrapped around the book she had been reading, while the other hand closed the door and pulled her glasses free. “If you’ll step into the study, I’ll find my father for you. I assume you’re here about the rental I gave you. I could show it to you, but he’s quite pleased with the work he’s had done to it. I am loathe to take that excitement away from him.” She gestured to a chair. “Please, have a seat. I won’t be a moment.” She went toward the door and turned back. “Oh, you don’t have to sit, Mr. Banner. You’re free to look about the room. It’s a fantastic, quite amazing room actually.”

  Donovan felt a momentary thought streak through him that he should leave and not look back. But he remained, drawn to the massive shelves lining two of the walls in the room. One wall was full, thickly plated double windows facing the Sound. The last wall held beautifully framed colored ink drawings of plants, flowers and trees. A couple small shadow boxes were scattered among them, each containing preserved flowers.

  He turned at the sound of voices heading down the hall, a man about his height with sparkling silver hair and a matching neatly trimmed beard and moustache stood in the door. He wore simple cargo pants, a cotton shirt tucked into his waist and a pair of thick soled hiking boots.

  “Donovan Banner, sir,” he stepped forward, his palm out as the door closed with them inside the study.

  “Alister Reed, Donovan, please come with me. We can talk as I show you around. My daughter tells me you’re new to the area,” Alister Reed led him toward the wide double doors, stepping out onto the wide planking that stretched around the house.

  “I’ve been here a few weeks now,” Donovan answered, his hands in his pockets. “Finding a place to live that’s peaceful and…adult…has been a challenge.”

  “I can guarantee you peace. We have our own generator and several fireplaces when the power fails. The winds down the center of the Sound can be hazardous,” Alister pulled a set of keys from the large pocket on his jacket. “Winters on the coast are unusual, to say the least. I just finished having this section renovated, Donovan.” He launched into an explanation of the changes and additions, both men discussing the improvements. “Do you think you’ll enjoy the new area?”

  “I’m looking forward to the changes. I’ve spent five years working in northern New Mexico in the desert,” Donovan followed him into the living area of the small house attached to the end of the larger villa. “Your daughter didn’t tell me very much about the rental, Dr. Reed.”

  “The renovations were finished last week. Francine convinced me to have it fit more into line with today,” he admitted with a satisfied nod at the spacious interior. “Explore, Donovan. Ask your questions. You haven’t known Francine very long.”

  “I’ve run into her a few times over the last ten days,” Donovan looked over from his assessment of the bedrooms and master bath. “Dr. Reed, I assure you I have no…I am not interested…” He stopped when the boisterous, deep laughter filled the empty house, a palm clapping on his shoulder.

  “Believe me. Donovan, if Francine even imagined you were interested in her, you wouldn’t be here,” Alister shook his head.

  “I see…” Donovan shrugged. “Okay, I’m lying…I don’t see. But I do like the house, Dr. Reed,” he nodded when the rent was suggested, surprised at how low it was.

  “We dine at six-thirty, Nancy does most of the cooking, although Francine will get in there occasionally and if you’re off running late, there are always things to eat. Tom takes Francine in to work each morning in the power boat and picks her up at approximately five-fifteen, unless the weather makes it impossible to cross safely.” Alister told him lifting the set of keys from his pocket and holding them out to him. “You’re not married? Just you here?”

  “Been married, and divorced,” Donovan answered simply.

  “Hmm…I’m sorry.”

  “She didn’t care to be the wife of a deployed soldier,” he said with a casual shrug. “Your daughter lives here? I thought…her name…”

  “I met my daughter when she was two years old,” Alister said quietly, showing Donovan where the connected garage was and the door that connected to the house. “I didn’t know her mother had been pregnant. A social worker showed up on my doorstep after a vehicle accident. Identity was verified, DNA taken and I had a two year old who was accustomed to being naked and barefoot. Her mother was part of a nudist group in southern California,” he recalled with a sigh. “I had spent a summer as an intern for a local organic nursery.”

  “She still goes barefoot,” Donovan told him.

  “My name was on the birth certificate, but she had used her own as Francine’s surname. My daughter’s never married. You can enter the house from here and avoid the cold,” he led the way along the wide corridor. “This is Francine’s tower, here…we’ll be dining in a few minutes if you’d care to join us? It gets dark early. Where are you staying now?”

  “I have a room at the resort while I search. I can arrange to have my things delivered this week,” he paused and stared into the very large round room. Like the study, half of the room consisted of book shelves. The windows were angular with rounded tops and multi-paned. There was a large desk, a ladder that rolled on wheels and a track and several stools. A big, wide table sat opposite the desk, the surface filled with bottles of liquids, capsules and labeled herbs. In the center, perched on a stool with a book open and resting on another stool, was Francine.

  “Have you boys settled things?” Frannie didn’t look up but kept reading, lips pursed in thought.

  “All taken care of, Francine. Dinner in five, dear,” Alister said easily. “And yes, Donovan will be moving into the house.”

  “Good…glad we could help with his stress level,” she answered with a nod. “I’ll be along in a minute, Father.”

  “She won’t,” he said with a chuckle as he continued on, showing Donovan the main kitchen and dining area. “We have a guest room, Donovan. You are more than welcome to use it instead of attempting to navigate an unfamiliar area in this darkness. Once we have clouds, the night is amazingly dark here.”

  “I might take you up on that, Dr. Reed, and I appreciate it,” Donovan reached up and pulled his tie free as they entered the study, opening the top buttons on his shirt. They began discussing the renovations that had been done and continued talking about them when they wandered into the dining area a few minutes later.

  “This is Nancy Myers, Donovan Banner, Nancy. He’s moving into the house,” Alister sat down and began reaching for bowls. “Help yourself, Donovan. Nancy is an outstanding cook.”

  “Pleased to meet you, sir,” the older woman said with a smile, setting food from a rolling cart onto the table. “I’ll remind her, sir.”

  “Thank you, Nancy,” Alister chuckled warmly.

  “I was browsing in your library, it’s amazing,” Donovan complimented as he reached for bowls, his stomach telling him he had missed lunch.

  “Help yourself. I’ve always been a book collector. All types. Do you know anything about plants?”

  “Not a thing. Other then they often taste good,” Donovan answered with a chuckle.

  “Excellent. We have too few conversations about other things,” Alister nodded. “Your association with the resort tells me you at least care a trifle about your fellow humans. I believe Francine mentioned you were previously in the military and quite disciplined.”

  “I think your daughter believes anyone wearing shoes is disciplined,” Donovan found it amazingly easy to relax, laughing with Alister as the gold to
rnado came around the corner.

  “I am so sorry, Father, I swear I had this thing set…I thought I had set it…I’m positive it’s working well…human error is such a large factor of…” Green eyes finally rose from the pocket watch she held in her hands, pale lashes blinking at the unfamiliar figure. “Oh…good evening, Mr. Banner…oh, no, please remain seated. If you hop up every time I’m a tad behind, you’ll never eat a decent meal in this house.”

  “Perhaps you should start using your phone as an alarm, dear,” Alister commented with a half grin at the other male at the table.

  Francine sighed thickly, scowling at the glance she saw exchanged. “I’m working on it. It’s just so convenient to have it hanging there for me to not have to dig for all the time. I’m working on a hanger for it,” she said with a bite of the pork roast dipped in the creamy gravy. “Thing is, I really like my sturdy little clock. No matter. Did I interrupt an important conversation?” She asked, looking expectantly from one to the other.

  “I was asking Donovan what kind of things he enjoyed when he wasn’t working,” Alister told her.

  Donovan cleared his throat and gave it some thought. “I like reading. Mysteries and certain periods in history interest me. I enjoy a good, brisk run early in the morning.”

  “When the tide is low, there are a great many people running along the beach. The streets through town are always busy with runners in the mornings,” Frannie mentioned casually. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in with them. They’re putting in a large walking track around the resort.”

  “We just finished the layout for it. Keeping it inside the property boundaries and keeping it safe for guests and employees has been a major issue,” Donovan told her easily.

  “I’m sure Cassidy will have cameras everywhere,” she said with a chuckle. “Did father tell you the library is filled with books you’re very welcome to use. He’s also a history buff on certain eras.”

  “Is that your field, sir?” Donovan asked politely.

  “I’m a botanist and I teach at the University. Francine inherited and expanded on my love of plant life,” he said proudly.

  “We have a lovely garden in season. Fresh vegetables are amazing,” Francine said with a sigh. “It’s not so bad growing in the green house, I suppose. Do you like plants, Mr. Banner?”

  “I don’t dislike them,” he answered cautiously. “I never thought of them, to be honest, one way or the other.”

  “I see,” Francine nodded slightly and focused on finishing her dinner, vaguely listening to the talk about baseball, wood for the fires and who is the most interesting mystery detective. She finished quickly and began clearing the dishes, filling the cart Nancy left and wheeling it into the kitchen, returning with a tea pot and a small plate of cookies. “We have coffee, if you prefer, Mr. Banner.”

  “I think I’d prefer you call me Donovan, and tea is great, thanks,” he watched the delicate way she handled the tea pot and large mugs, reaching for the honey on the cart and dribbling some liberally into the tea.

  Francine poured her father’s cup and set the plate on the table, removing the rest of the dinner and taking it into the kitchen.

  “If you will excuse me, I have work in my study,” Francine headed toward the door, stopping when her father spoke up.

  “I’ll send Donovan to your study when we’ve finished, Francine. Show him to the guest room and make certain he has whatever he might need. He’ll be staying the night,” Alister continued on with their discussion about the French and World War II.

  “Of course,” Francine left the room, heading to the guest room and making sure it had blankets and fresh towels before going to her study. She found her glasses and the book she had been reading from, the tiny print making her squint even behind the magnifier lenses.

  Chapter Three

  “I can find my way, Alister,” Donovan told him when they finished and rose from the table.

  “Excellent. I have papers to grade. See you in the morning for breakfast, my boy. Good night,” Alister wandered off in the opposite direction, his head up and hands in his pockets.

  Donovan saw various pairs of flat shoes in several colors laying around the very large round room when he stood in the doorway observing. She wore a pair of faded gold flats that matched her dress, one foot hitched on the lower rung of the stool and supporting her elbow. The sides of the long blond hair were pulled together in a very loose bundle at the back of her head, making a sweeping low wave that fell over one eye as she read, idly brushing it away now and then with the pen she had been writing with.

  He cleared his throat softly, one brow arched when she held up one finger.

  “You have a massive, unusual home here, Francine.”

  “Please…Frannie…only Father calls me that,” she set the glasses down and closed her eyes tightly. “Lord, how people in old times ever read that text without going mad is beyond me. I will be very glad when I pull what I want from it and may even hold a book burning, just for that volume.”

  “You could have someone do it for you,” He suggested, following her when she went past him and gestured him forward.

  “Father has a doctorate in botany and a degree in ancient languages,” she said casually. “The text is in ancient English and Latin, with some fool throwing in a few Celtic phrases for fun. I doubt there are many who could translate it.”

  Donovan had to admit to himself that thinking of her as being able to translate that brought a new dimension to his mind regarding her.

  “And you can?”

  “I was home schooled, Mr.…Donovan. The subjects that had been in my curriculum generally boggle the mind. I never attended a regular school until freshman college when I was fourteen. I believe all the text books father used are still in the library,” she told him easily, pushing the door to the bedroom wide. “The master bath is there. I’ve laid out fresh towels for you, as well as soap and a toothbrush and paste. I left a new regular razor and there are two extra blankets on the chest by the window. Good night…and sleep well,” she said simply, turning and leaving him in the doorway.

  “Good night, Frannie,” he said to the empty hall, shaking his head at how quickly the woman moved.

  ****

  Frannie fell asleep quickly and woke with equal speed, alert and very aware that something was wrong several hours later. She knew the feelings; felt the sensations as if they were her very own. She knew her fathers sleep patterns; she was familiar with both Tom’s and Nancy’s.

  This was new. This was a highly powerful and dangerous mixture. Fear, anxiety and anger all rolling together. Her feet went instantly into her slippers, hands up and tying back the long hair as she took the stairs two at a time.

  She found the herbal oils she wanted quickly, pulled a clean, thick small towel from the drawer and began mixing the soothing scents on the towel. Lavender, St. John’s Wort, Passionflower and Chamomile were drizzled over the cloth, she added another layer of valerian and a hint of rosemary before slipping it into a small plastic bag and heading off down the hall at a fast walk.

  Frannie pushed the bedroom door open and slid inside, eyes immediately on the man mumbling in the center of the bed. His feet were moving, one arm curled beneath his head and the other trapped beneath the blanket, but definitely trying to escape.

  She went to the side behind him, one leg bent and sliding her across the surface, beneath the blankets. She called to him repeatedly but the dream was holding him too tightly in its grasp. Frannie braced her bent leg against his back and eased him closer, the cloth she had scented gently placed over his forehead.

  It wasn’t overpowering.

  It was meant to be subtle and invasive.

  She leaned against the solid headboard and slid one arm beneath his shoulders, large and strong, she held them firmly in place against her chest. Her other arm was placed along the length of his where it rested down his side, their fingers entwined beneath the warmth of the blankets. She put her head against the head
board and closed her eyes, counting and waiting and whispering soothingly to him.

  “You’re safe, Donovan…it’s calm and peaceful here…I know you can hear me…just follow my voice…I’ll lead you to a place where there is no anger and no hatred…nothing to fear…”

  His feet stopped moving first, within ten seconds. Then the mumbling stopped, the tension in his throat and jaw eased, returning to normal. His arm no longer battled for freedom, his fingers loosening and relaxing. Finally, she noted his breathing slowed, became steady and strong. He had slipped into a deeper, quiet, easy sleep.

  She held him safely against her, their heads resting beside one another as her breathing calmed him along with the oils she’d placed on the towel over his forehead. She slid a little lower as sleep took her, her palm firm on his shoulder when she felt the tension begin again. This time she offered soft, soothing words of safety, the fingers of her other hand tightening around his. This time his peace came much sooner and lasted through the night.

  ****

  Donovan swore he saw a pale pink flutter of fabric just before his watch sounded that it was six AM. He rolled to his back and stretched, feeling more rested than he had in a very long time. He didn’t recall the strong herbal scents that seemed to fill the bedroom at the moment. He was sure they weren’t there last night. Arms that had been stretched over his head came to rest on the bed and spread out, stopping behind him at the sudden warmth that stretched the length.

  Clues. An intriguing mystery.

  He looked up from the plate of toast and eggs and reached for the hot cup of coffee as Frannie entered the dining area. She set the large cloth tote by the door, laid a long piece of black and red fabric over the chair and immediately poured a tall glass of juice.

  “Good morning, Mr. Banner. I trust you slept well,” she asked with a pleasant smile, taking two slices of toast and preparing a small sandwich with eggs in the center.