by Lisa Greer
John’s mouth tightened. “I wouldn’t take it that far, Sophie.”
She laughed. “Then where would you take it?”
“I think we just need to call it a night. I have a lot to think about. I’m sorry this happened to you, Sophie, and we will get to the bottom of it,” he said, tracing her jawline with his finger. His touch was like fire, and a frisson of desire ran through her. She hadn’t felt anything like it for what seemed like ages now.
“Goodnight,” Sophie said, not trusting herself to say more.
He left, and she lay back, staring at the ceiling. Whom could she trust? After all, John had been standing at the top of the stairs, just moments after she tumbled down them. Could he have pushed her? She didn’t want to believe it, but she didn’t know who had done it.
Another thought squeezed the breath out of her chest. Would whoever had tried to hurt her try to hurt the baby next? She let out a helpless moan at the possibility. Sophie could hardly move, and she felt scared and defenseless.
She hadn’t prayed in a long time, but Sophie found herself breathing a quick plea to the God of her childhood, back when she had believed in someone who looked out for mere humans and life had been simpler. “Please, God, help Maya and me. Save us from the evil in this place.” A tear slid down her cheek. Sophie had always considered herself strong, but she wondered if she had met her match with Haven House and its inhabitants.
* * * *
A knock sounded on the door mid-morning the next day. It was a Sunday. The days had passed in a blur since her arrival at Haven House. Now, the pain made the haze worse. Sophie reached for the bottle of pain pills the doctor had left.
“Who is it?” She croaked.
“Evan. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but please let me in and hear me out.”
She closed her eyes. “Alright. Come in, but make it snappy. I feel terrible.” Sophie sat up and swallowed the pill with the water John had left at her bedside the night before.
Evan sat next to the bed, concern in his gaze. “First, I’m sorry for what I said last night and before that in the greenhouse. It was all uncalled for. I hope you can forgive me at some point.”
Sophie said nothing, just stared at him. She didn’t plan to make it that easy for him.
Evan cleared his throat. “So, how are you?”
“How do I look?” Sophie bit back a laugh. It would hurt too much.
“Not so good. What happened?” He studied her. His hair was disheveled, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept at all. Somehow, that made him more handsome than usual.
“I started feeling terrible—hot and crampy. I knelt down near the staircase, because I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t.” Sophie took a deep breath. “Then, someone pushed me, and I fell down the stairs. I managed to stop myself.” She closed her eyes, trying not to relive the nightmare.
Evan’s face had gone pure white like cream. “Someone pushed you?”
“Yes, I know they did. I didn’t imagine it.” Her voice was sharp, but Sophie was sick of being doubted.
“Dear God,” Evan said, closing his eyes.
“Yeah. So, I’m not feeling very trusting of any of you right now.” Sophie shivered. Evan himself could have pushed her, and he was just inches away.
“I can understand that. I can’t get over it. You know our mother died that way. Well, she fell in the official version of the story, but many people thought it wasn’t an accident.” He clenched his fists on his thighs.
“What? No I didn’t know that. John didn’t tell me.” Sophie realized there was a lot John wasn’t telling her. He was secretive, closed inside of himself. Who was this man she was marrying anyway? Would she ever understand him?
“Yes, we were young children and were downstairs, but our father was upstairs. No one could pin anything on him, and he was wealthy, so things went nowhere. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he had a hand in her death. I’m not saying he meant for her to die, but maybe they were fighting and—” He swore under his breath.
“That’s quite a thing to say about your own father.” Sophie swallowed hard.
“He’s more monster than man. I’m sure even John told you that.” Evan shook his head.
Sophie nodded. “In so many words.”
Evan stood with an air of finality. “Be careful, Sophie Banister. I know your life was hard before you came here, but you might consider what would happen if you stay.”
Was that a threat? Sophie was speechless as he walked out of the room, and she wondered if she should try to call a cab and get a plane out of here, back to Chicago.
* * * *
“Something’s arrived in the mail for you,” John said as he came in to see Sophie later that afternoon.
She was cuddling Maya in her arms and mulling her options of staying or going. If she left, she would do it in the night—call a cab and take Maya away in the middle of the night. She would worry about fighting John legally later over the marriage contract, if he even bothered. Sophie wasn’t sure he would.
“Yes?” Sophie’s voice was brittle, but she tried to hide her feelings. She wouldn’t give away her intentions or the battle raging in her head about staying or going.
“Well, see what it is.” There was a glow of excitement in his dark eyes.
The logo on the envelope was all the she needed to see. It was the divorce papers, sooner than expected. Her hands shook as she opened the envelope. Yesterday had thrown everything into doubt. Did she want to marry John, or should she leave as soon as she was well enough to travel? A life of poverty would be better than no life at all. Sophie remembered Evan’s words that morning. “The divorce is final,” Sophie said flatly.
“I thought that must be it. This is great news!” John said, taking the document and reading it for himself. He stopped, gazing at her. “You don’t seem very enthusiastic.”
“It’s a little tough to be after what happened yesterday.” She swallowed hard, biting back harsher words she wanted to say.
He frowned. “I promise you, you aren’t in danger. I’ll keep you safe.”
She laughed. “I almost died, and you don’t believe me.”
“Sophie, I believe you.” He stopped for a moment as if he were choosing his words carefully. “I think you believe firmly that you were kicked, but I just don’t know who would do such a thing—not over the inheritance or anything else.” John shook his head, looking confused.
Sophie almost pitied him but not quite. “Right. Well, it happened. I’m not losing my mind. And what about Maya? What if there’s a madman here who wants us dead?”
“I’m handling it, Sophie. I will take care of it if there is any danger to you. I swear I’ll make sure you’re safe. I’m checking into everything, and I’m going to have a guard for you here at Haven House and for Maya if you want them,” John said, his lips tight. He looked angry.
Sophie wanted to believe him. He looked sincere, but she was still frightened.
“A guard?” She laughed shortly. “That sounds like a dream come true.” Sophie couldn’t keep the bitter note from her words. “That might be too little too late. If anything else happens that frightens me, I’m leaving. The wedding will be off,” she said.
“Please, Sophie. Please trust me.” He stood up, laying the cane in front of him aside. Then, John knelt down by the bed in a swift motion considering his impediment, surprising her. He cupped her chin in his hands and gently kissed her lips at first. The heat of his lips stirred the feeling in her his touch had the day before—latent passion. Sophie responded in spite of herself, and his lips moved against hers more urgently.
When he pulled away, they were both breathless. “Let’s not put it off any longer,” John said. “We can get the license tomorrow. Do you think you’re up to that?”
Sophie nodded, wishing he were still kissing her, hardly able to think rationally. A twinge of unease fluttered in the back of her mind, but she ignored it. Perhaps she could trust him. He seemed so sincere. The man had brought
her here and taken care of her and Maya so far. John Granger was her best bet.
“Then we will. Let’s get married on Tuesday morning, at say 11:00, with luncheon served afterward—just a quiet affair with family only.” His gaze burned with intensity and with something else—desire.
Sophie shivered. She couldn’t remember ever wanting a man as much as she wanted John Granger at this moment. If he would have climbed into bed with her, she would have been powerless to say no to him.
The thought sobered her. “Eleven it is as long as my dress is ready.” Her mouth trembled into a smile in spite of her fears.
“I’ll call Mrs. Bechdol today and have her deliver it by tomorrow—no ifs, ands, or buts.” John smiled and brushed a hair back from Sophie’s face. “You’re gorgeous, bruises and all.”
She swatted at his hand. “Gee, thanks. Remember what I said, though. I’m serious about leaving if anything else happens to scare me or put Maya in danger.”
“I know, and I am, too, about keeping you safe. I’ll see you later. I have some planning to do for our honeymoon. Rest up.” He gave her a small smile and left.
His words were a promise, but a dark cloud hung over their future together. If someone had tried to kill her, would he or she try again?
Chapter Eight
The next day went off without a hitch. The weather was bright and warm for the time of year—all the way up to 35 degrees with nary a snowflake in sight. Sophie was stiff but able to make it to the courthouse to get the marriage license. John was full of smiles and radiated hope. She loved seeing him that way.
“Will you be happy with a honeymoon in Mexico?” He asked, looking striking in a pale blue leisure suit. His cane tapped along as they walked.
“Mexico?” Sophie gasped. “I would love to go somewhere warm and sunny, but only if Maya can come.” The thought of getting away from Haven House for a while appealed to her even more than the climate change did, but Sophie didn’t mention that.
“Of course she can. Did you think I’d even consider leaving her behind?” He asked, hugging Sophie tightly as they left the courthouse, license in hand.
“Then, the answer is yes,” Sophie said, snuggling next to him as they walked down the stairs toward the car.
The Black Hills loomed in the distance as did the local tourist attractions. There would be time to see them all, but there was too much to be done today for her and John to linger in town.
“Good. Let’s get back and make sure everything is ready for tomorrow,” John said, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
He still seemed to be wary about pushing her too far in the romance department, but the shared feeling of interest between them was undeniable. Sophie believed, with time, it would blossom into love.
* * * *
Once Maya was snuggled in her crib that night, Sophie went back to her bedroom. She wanted to try the wedding dress on again. It was gorgeous, with glimmering beads, some sequins, and yards of lace—something she could only have dreamed of—fit for royalty.
She slipped the silken piece of perfection on over her underclothes and studied her reflection. Her red hair was aflame, her skin smooth and youthful. She was transformed—a woman in the first blush of love, glowing, and ready for her husband.
At that moment, the phone on the nightstand in her room rang. It never had before. The bedrooms had their own personal extensions, but one had to know the proper extension of the particular bedroom to dial it. Sophie frowned. “Who in the world could that be?” Then, she smiled. It had to be John, wanting to wish her well before the wedding tomorrow morning. They wouldn’t see each other until she walked down the aisle of the family chapel, after all.
She picked up the phone, her heart fluttering. “Hello?”
“Sophie, it’s Evan. Can you come out to the greenhouse? I wanted to show you the orchids for tomorrow and your bouquet.”
“Evan?” Her heart flipped in disappointment, but she tried not to show it. “Oh, okay. I guess so. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She glanced at her watch. It was 8:30. Not too late, but she was surprised Evan was calling her to the greenhouse now. He had insisted on doing the flowers for the wedding and would be decorating the chapel with them tomorrow morning. Maybe he was still trying to make nice for how ugly he had been to her before.
She would let him try.
Sophie changed into jeans, an old blue sweatshirt, and her tennis shoes. She swept her hair into a ponytail and darted into the nursery to check on the baby. She just couldn’t resist it. Her daughter was sleeping deeply, taking sweet little breaths.
“Goodnight, little one. Tomorrow, our lives will change,” Sophie whispered, touching the baby’s warm head and then leaving. She took the elevator downstairs, unwilling to brave the stairs after her recent fall. Sophie didn’t care if that made her a coward. She would rather be safe than sorry—or have a panic attack the night before her wedding. The elevator creaked down to the first floor.
She found her coat in the closet near the door. The house was silent, as if it were waiting for something. Sophie and John had parted ways after dinner, and she supposed he was busy, or just enjoying his last night of freedom as a single man.
She grinned at that thought as she buttoned her coat and walked out the front door. The wind howled, and Sophie shivered, in spite of the relative warmth for a February evening in South Dakota. She hugged herself and walked as quickly as she could across the mostly dark yard. The greenhouse shimmered in the distance as she rounded the corner, the glass walls reflecting in the few lights outside.
Sophie paused as she neared it. It looked dark inside, but Evan was supposed to be working there. With a sense of trepidation, she knocked on the door. It moved inward. She realized that it was hanging open, and wind was gusting into the greenhouse. Something was very wrong.
“Evan?” She called, a tremor in her voice.
A single bulb in the back of the greenhouse lit the place. The flowers and plants looked eerie in the dim light, as if they might reach toward her at any moment and pin her to the spot.
“Evan?” All was quiet—too quiet.
“He’s not here,” said a scathing voice, a voice she recognized. Pain split her skull, and everything went black.
* * * *
“Why are you doing this?” Sophie asked. Her head throbbed with every word she spoke.
“You really don’t know?” Carla laughed. All softness was gone from her voice. Her face was even changed into a snarling, animal-like visage. The sweetness had been a front all along.
“No, you could have married John. I don’t understand any of this.” Sophie was stalling for time. She could look at Carla and tell she was mad, but she hoped someone would rescue her.
Evan lay on the ground, knocked out cold. He had apparently called her to have her come look at the flowers at Carla’s suggestion. Then, Carla had hit him over the head with the same thing she had used on Sophie. Sophie didn’t know what the object was, but it hurt.
“I didn’t want John. He was a means to get to his brother, but Evan, idiot that he is, rejected me.” She laughed. “I loved him, and I love this house. My mother worked here when I was a young child. She more than worked here. She was the mistress of Thaddeus Granger.”
“Oh my God,” Sophie said. “The woman who came between him and the boys’ mother?”
“Yes, exactly. And it came full circle with me. I seduced old Thaddeus, and I’m carrying his child. After you’re dead, he will marry me, and this house will be mine. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll kick every last Granger out the moment he dies. The beauty of it is that no one will know I killed you—or Evan. They’re going to think you both died in a terrible fire here while carrying on a lover’s tryst.” She laughed, her eyes rolling up in her head.
“No, you wouldn’t do that. John would be—”
“Devastated? Yes, he will be. He loves you, or he’s almost in love. He never loved me, so don’t worry. I was just here as a maid before I was the nanny
and seemed like a good choice.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s weak. Marrying him was a most unsatisfying proposition for me. I wanted to get to the source after Evan rejected me—Thaddeus—and I did. He knows about the baby, and he knows who my mother is. I told him last night, and now, I think he’s afraid of me, but he doesn’t know the half of what I’m planning.” She giggled like a small child. The young woman was truly insane. “He probably thinks tomorrow will go off without a hitch, and the house and his legacy will be secured despite me and the baby.”
“Please, there’s another way—” Sophie hugged herself. She was so cold, and all she could think about was Maya in the crib alone. She would have no mother, just as she already had no father.
“Shut up.” Carla struck a match, her eyes glittering in the near darkness.
Sophie smelled the gasoline then. She had missed the acrid odor somehow before. Carla already had the place set to burn.
“No, no!” She cried.
“Oh, yes. Say goodbye to this world, Sophie,” Carla said.
Behind Carla, a shadowy figure flickered. Chills ran down Sophie’s spine. It couldn’t be. It made no rational sense, but it was her. It was Mona Granger, or her ghost. Carla suddenly screamed and fell backward. The lit match fell on top of her, and flames shot from her body.
Sophie gaped for only a moment. Then, she grabbed Evan and dragged him by the legs to the door, tears running down her face at the pain from her bruises and the effort.
He grunted, starting to stir. “What’s going on?” Evan mumbled, not fighting her.
“I’m sorry. We have to get out of here!” She managed to push and pull him out of the greenhouse door. Then, she rolled him down the slight slope as far as she could and ran behind him. She waited for an explosion, but it never came.
Somehow, Mona Granger, or what was left of her, had taken care of that detail, but Sophie had no doubt Carla was dead.
* * * *
Two weeks later, on a bright, cold day, John and Sophie walked down the short aisle of the Granger Chapel and gave themselves to each other as man and wife. The shadow of Carla’s misdeeds still hung over the wedding as did the sad death of the life she had carried inside of her, but the past was put to rest, finally. The coroner’s inquiry showed that Carla had died of a heart attack. Only the family knew that there was more to it than that when Sophie told them of seeing Mona Granger’s ghost. Thaddeus Granger admitted he had seen her too and that she had warned him of danger.
