by J. K. Zimmer
“Early? Dear sister,” he said dryly.” It is already three in the afternoon, and we have a very important invitation to keep this evening. Certainly you have not forgotten,” he said, his eyes fixed solidly on Olivia. “And dear one, were you going to be so rude and not introduce me to your friend from school?”
Anya glanced at Olivia, who gave a reassuring smile. “No, dear brother, I would not do that to you. Miss Neely, I would like you to meet my brother, Sean. He is in charge of Father’s affairs during his absence.”
Olivia’s head hung low out of respect as Mr. O’Connell had approached them. She now slowly raised her head to meet his eyes. “Nice to meet you, sir,” she said with a warm smile and a soft voice.
Sean stood, not moving a muscle, instantly enthralled by her indescribable beauty. Her lip, skin, hair—all so uncommon—but it was her eyes that caught him. They pierced deeply, right to his soul, and her smile cut at his very flesh. He attempted to breathe deeply, but it was impossible. What was he feeling from her? He needed to look away as quickly as possible, shift his eyes from her. He glanced at the table where a book lay open. He cleared his throat, not looking back to her face.
“What were you girls reading? Spooky things about the she-banshees?” he asked, reaching with a shaky hand for the book.
Olivia placed her hand swiftly on the book and slid it from his reach, then put it in her bag for safe keeping. “No, just some old writings I thought your sister would be interested in, sir,” she said, lifting the bag to her shoulder.
“Thank you for tea, Miss O’Connell. I hope we have the pleasure of coming together again soon,” she said, meeting Anya’s eyes with a sincere slant. “I will show myself out…oh, and nice to have met you, Mr. O’Connell. Have a lovely evening.” She gave him another soft smile before she turned to leave.
Sean sensed something foreign in her presence, and he didn’t want to admit it, but he was glad she was gone. He turned his attention to Anya. “What power does that woman possess, Anya. Tell me this instant,” he growled his voice deepening as he spoke.
Anya saw evil emerge from the wildness in his eyes. She breathed out a nervous laugh of self-concern. “I know not of what you speak, dear brother. You say power…what power? Miss Neely is but a friend. She possesses no power.”
Sean grabbed her arm and pulled her firmly to himself. “I felt something when she looked at me. Who is she?”
“I told you, Sean. She is Olivia Neely, now let go, you are hurting my arm.”
He dropped her arm from his grip. “Where did you meet her, and what old writings were in that book?” he demanded, moving in close to her again.
Anya watched his chest rise and fall as if he had just run a great distance. Why had Miss Neely’s presence caused him so much agitation?
“Dear brother, I met her in town, and the writings she brought are unfamiliar to me. We did not have the chance to look into them.” Anya searched his cold eyes for satisfaction and watched his breathing slow, but his look was unconvinced. “I must go and get ready for the gathering, Sean. I will be down in one hour.” She turned, not knowing if he would allow her to go or if she would be forced to remain for more questioning.
“Yes, be ready in one hour,” he called after her.
Anya could hear faint, frigid laughter echoing in the hall as she made her way to her bedroom. Why was Sean laughing? Was it at her, her obvious displeasure with him? The feeling of safety enveloped her body and soul as she quickly opened the door and stepped inside, closing the heavy door firmly behind her. Her head gently rested against the polished wood. She closed her eyes for a brief instant to think. Who was Miss Neely, and who is this Three she talked about? Anya shifted her feet to move from the door, and as she did, she felt something underfoot. Her eyes moved to see several small pieces of paper resting on the floor.
“How did these get in here? What in the world are they?” she asked quietly, reaching for one of the pieces. Gasping, she ran her fingers along the edge. It was jagged. “This is a page from the black book on the table. Olivia must have ripped them from her book, but why would she do that?” She tried to reason, her heart pounding hard in her chest. She plucked the rest of the pages from the floor and picked up her mother’s diary, tucking the fragments among the pages for safe keeping. She would read them when she returned later from the gathering. Yes, the gathering. A new fear gripped her as she unbuttoned her dress to bathe, another unknown tonight. She resigned herself unwillingly, feeling the bitterness of earlier creeping back into her heart. She tested the bath water with her fingertips. “I hate you, Sean,” she said, stepping into the warm water.
A gentle breeze pushed lightly on the long linen curtains hanging on the great windows near Anya’s bath. She closed her eyes as she turned, allowing the same breeze to caress her face.
“The merciful one doeth good to his own soul; but he that is cruel troubleth his own flesh.”
She gasped, almost losing her breath. Her eyes opened in panic, shifting from side to side. “What? Who said that?” she asked, gripping the sides of the clawed bathtub. Her eyes widened, her hands now grabbing for the bath sheet. Anya could see no one as she frantically looked around the room, her wet body now standing on the floor beside the tub of water. Was she hearing voices, or was it the wind? Her mind raced back to Olivia’s words about Three, and how there is a Spirit, and that he talked with her on a regular basis. Were the words she heard from the Spirit? She didn’t know Three as Colleen and Olivia knew him, so how could the Spirit speak with her—and even more baffling, why? She tightened her towel and tried to breathe at a normal rate. Anya knew Sean would be expecting her to be on time. But her mind was crashing in all around her. Her body calmed as she continued to prepare for her brother’s inspection, but her mind became increasingly troubled by the words she had heard.
“I must show mercy to have a good soul?” She laughed, trying to interpret the words still sounding in her ears. “Then who will show mercy to me tonight?” she whispered as she finished preparing for the evening’s gathering. “If you are here, Three,” she said, looking in the full-length mirror at her reflection, “then you will be here when I return, if I return.”
Chapter Seven
Sophie
“Dear Ms. Hanes,
“I am pleased with the diary you have allowed me to interpret. I have found the first fifty pages interesting—no, intriguing. As you may or may not know, after page thirty, there is a change in authors. The new writer is Anya, the daughter of Mrs. O’Connell, the owner of the diary. Anya has experienced some new and traumatic situations since she started writing in the diary. The unpleasant encounters come at the hands of her brother, Sean O’Connell. But in spite of her disturbing situation, I find it fascinating reading and will wait for the next fifty pages. I do need to warn you, the writer is graphic in describing her first encounter with a French businessman. He is a much older man associated with her father’s business. She is brought to Mr. Dubois to serve as payment for a business deal. I find the situation most amusing and memorable. From what I can gather, the son is attempting to destroy his father’s empire, which has taken a “hit” of sorts from fires. You may refer to the information of such in the earlier writings of the mother. Sean is using his sister, which you will read about soon. Anya also mentioned a young woman named Olivia Neely whose beauty is by all standards incredible. There is one last person, or should I say Spirit. She calls the Spirit, Three, and has had one encounter with him. I think you can see why I am anxious to get the rest of the diary.
“I’m making plans for your arrival. I see you have rented a cottage near Dool. That’s fantastic as the Castle Goregoo, where the diary originated, is not far from the village. I will arrange for a visit. Ms. Hanes, I am anxious to meet you and promise your stay in Ireland will be memorable, perhaps so much so that you will find it hard to leave. Sincerely, Professor Smith”
“Knock, knock,” the words gave Sophie a start, causing her to jump. She turned to s
ee Kevin opening the front door. “You really should keep this locked Ms. Hanes,” he said, admiring the way her body moved in the yellow skirt as she came to greet him.
“Hey, how are you tonight?” she asked, taking his hand.
He stopped, kissed her cheek, and worked his way down to her shoulder.
“Better now,” he said, focusing on her shiny pink lips.
She knew what he meant and smiled. “I made egg rolls if you’re interested in dinner?” Sophie knew he would be and left for the kitchen.
“That sounds really good,” he said, noticing a message on her laptop from Professor Smith. He looked Sophie’s way then back to the message. He didn’t mean to be nosy and read it, but he used to be a reporter, after all. After a quick skim, he decided the e-mail seemed okay, except for the questionable enthusiasm about the abuse to the girl in the diary and the final line. Your stay will be memorable, so much so that you may find it hard to leave. He was sure he had read that somewhere else once—but everyone says that when promising a good time, right? Still it was too familiar, and the vibe didn’t feel right.
“Since when did I give you permission to read my mail?” Sophie asked, shutting the lid of her computer and sitting down in front of him. Her eyebrows flattened as a determined look filled her dark brown eyes.
Kevin felt the sting of her displeasure.
“Sometimes I revert back to my reporter days and do things that can get me in trouble. I’m sorry, babe.”
Her facial expression didn’t change. He’d have to do better than “sorry” with her—she was too smart for a sappy apology like that. “Sophie, this trip you’re taking in two weeks has really got me bothered.” He reached over, taking her hands in his. Kevin traced the lines on her palms and admired the way her nails rounded. Should he tell her about having Professor Smith checked out? No, maybe not. He wasn’t sure what her reaction would be, and he was already skating on thin ice when it came to prying into her business. “Sophie, Ireland is not the states.” He hesitated. “I’m wondering if you really know what you’re getting into. I think I should go with you,” he said, squeezing her hands tightly.
Sophie’s face brightened as she gave him a warm smile. “Listen, Kevin, I’m glad for your concern, but I’m going on this trip solo,” she said, squeezing his hands back. “I love it that I see you almost every night of the week. I swear, Kevin, I’m lucky to have such an intimate, caring friend, but—”
He held his hands up. “Okay, Sophie, I know when I’ve been soundly rejected, and you’re killing me on this one, so let’s eat and stop talking about it.” Kevin stood, helping her to her feet. Friend, he thought. She always referred to their relationship as if they only ate popcorn and played video games together. No thought at all of the long evenings lying out under the stars or the early mornings at his apartment. He couldn’t crack this woman, and it was driving him crazy. No matter, he had other things to concern himself with first. He wasn’t bringing the issue of him traveling with her up again, but he wasn’t playing dead on the issue, either. He was going to continue to have the diary translated and get the information he wanted about Professor Smith.
Kevin watched as she checked her bags, overcome with the urge to protect her from something, something that made his gut turn too fast. Maybe the realization that he had fallen deeply in love with her months ago had finally caught up with him. He had been careful not to push his feelings on her, as difficult as it had been, and now seeing her prepare to leave—and meet another man no less—made him want to rush in, grab her, and take her away to keep her for himself. But there was that nasty little word, kidnapping, and it wouldn’t be a professional move on his part. Honesty finally hit him, and it hit him hard, right where it hurts, making him want to double over. Had he been playing the fool? Did she share his feelings? He wasn’t sure about much of anything with her as of late. She had been so consumed with the diary and Professor Smith that she hardly noticed he existed.
She turned, the diamonds in her eyes sparkling, making her leaving more than he could handle. “You’re beautiful,” he said. Kevin waited for his emotions to catch up with his mind. “So are you ready to go?” Sophie smiled, making it even harder to let her go.
“Yes, I’m so excited I can hardly stand it,” she said, examining her flight documents. She looked up; hoping the man standing in front of her could feel her enthusiasm. Instead, a troubled look had taken hold of Kevin’s blue eyes and clouded his sexy demeanor. “Hey, don’t worry,” she said, moving close to his side. “I’ll be fine. And besides, I’ve done a pretty good job of taking care of myself this far, don’t you think?”
His lips turned up, forming a slight smile as he pulled her close, tight to his body. He pressed his face into her hair, breathing in its flowery scent. It took him back to the nights spent together, talking and touching. He wanted more of that.
“Sophie,” he closed his eyes and kissed her neck, “please be careful.” He grazed her cheek with his lips. He looked into her eyes once more then pressed his lips to hers, tender and lush. Kevin wished there was some way to make her stay.
She pulled away, not wanting to get emotional. “I need to go, Kevin.” Her eyes were still locked with his and her lips wet from their kiss.
“I’ll call you,” he said, letting go of her.
“Let me call you first. I’ll need time to get settled, okay?”
“It’s that private thing, right, Sophie?” he asked, wishing she would commit to some sort of feelings for him before she left.
She smiled as she turned. “I’ll call you when I’m settled.” Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she hurried toward security.
He watched until she was out of sight, more determined to have her within reach, but for now that was not going to be possible.
Kevin stopped by Sophie’s house to feed the fish and check on things as he’d promised. Jeffrey pulled into his drive as he was leaving. Kevin waved. “How’s it going?” he asked, seeing Jeffrey’s biceps flex as he shut the car door.
Without answering Kevin’s greeting, Jeffrey leaned against his car, obviously something he’d learned from a character on a Television show. “So where’s Sophie off to?” he asked coolly.
Sophie’s neighbor was in much better shape than he, and Kevin didn’t know what might set him off. He needed to stay on this guy’s good side if he could. “She’s in Ireland for the next few weeks. I’ll be stopping by to check on things occasionally,” he said, getting no response from the man with the rippling muscles. “Hey, I was wondering if you could keep an eye on things, too. I’m going to be out of town and—”
“Yeah.” Jeffrey moved and straightened his impeccable body. “I’ve got a key, so that’s no problem,” he said with a relaxed smile. His massive biceps relaxed.
“Thanks. You really are a good neighbor to Sophie,” Kevin said, knowing that putting Jeffrey in charge would score a few brownie points that may come in handy down the road.
Sophie opened the notebook that held the translated version of the diary. Professor Smith had been kind enough to fax additional pages shortly before she left for the airport. He wanted to make sure she had reading material for her long flight. She sighed with a smile, wondering about the professor and why he was going out of his way to make her comfortable. Maybe that was just the way of the Irish, she thought. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. The translated pages proved to be compelling and thought-provoking, to say the least. She settled in and continued to read carefully, but she found that more than reading was taking place. Sophie found herself drawn in deeper and deeper the more she read. She shifted several times in her seat. There was something strange happening, a pain she had never experienced before. It was physical pain as well as mental anguish. It was disturbing, yet she was compelled to continue to read.
“Three, where are you? You have been silent to my ears during this, my time of great need.”
Sophie breathed in deep, trying to catch her breath, but she couldn’t. She cou
ld not tear her eyes away from the page.
“You have spoken to me on the wind and have said that the heavens themselves display who you are, so why have you grown silent? What have I done to cause even you to desert me? Do you not see that my brother has given me to yet another man? I hate them. They use me for their own pleasure with no concern for me—just as my brother treats me. Do you have no concern for me? Do you care that my room is dark even in the daytime? Or that I wake from dreams that are not pleasurable? Do you wish for me to remain in them forever?”
Sophie caught herself sitting straight up in the seat, her eyes fixed on the words. She settled back once again and opened the original diary, laying it on top of the interpreted pages.
“Oh Anya,” she said, feeling a connection with the young woman even though she had gone through only the first sixty pages or so. “The more I listen to you, the more I feel you are trying to tell me something.” Her eyes traveled to water stains near the bottom of the page. She touched the blurred words, and her fingertips immediately felt damp. Her heart jumped, and she slowly turned her hand to see what looked like tear drops resting on her fingers. Her eyes widened. “What? How?” she asked, her lips moving but no sound emerging. The diary was over two hundred years old. She looked closer at the formation of the old Gaelic words. Her ears began to ring with an unfamiliar sound.
“Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can fully share its joy.”
“Three? But how then do you know my heart, and why do you say such things to me about bitterness? You know my foes, the cause of such hurt within me.”
Sophie’s breathing quickened as she felt the cut of Anya’s words. She clutched her chest, and a thought of Trey stabbed at her mind. Was it he and his new love for God that had caused bitterness in her own heart? The reason she couldn’t find true joy in a relationship with—? She stopped short of saying his name. Her eyes were drawn back to the page.
