by Lani Lenore
“I suppose you don’t remember anything more by now?” he asked.
She shook her head. There was no reason to consider her answer. “No, nothing.”
“Me either,” he said regretfully. “How do you feel this morning? Did you sleep at all?”
For a few minutes, she’d forgotten about the incident in her room last night, but his words brought the memory back. She wondered briefly if she should even tell him about it, and decided it would make her feel better if she did.
“Adam, you…didn’t happen to get out of your room last night and come into mine, did you?”
His brow furrowed intensely. “No, I was locked in. Why do you ask that?”
To see the look on his face, she wondered if mentioning this was such a good idea, but she considered it too late to turn back.
“Someone was in my room,” she said quietly.
“What do you mean someone was in your room?” he demanded, visibly angered by that thought.
“Someone was standing over me, and when they discovered that I was awake, they ran away,” she explained, neglecting to mention the wandering hands.
“A man?” He practically growled the insinuation.
“I don’t—I mean, I assumed it was, but I didn’t see him.”
Adam closed his eyes and shook his head. She could tell he was struggling to bite back his anger, but whether it was for her sake or his own, she didn’t know.
“Just how are we supposed to deal with this? I told Irving I didn’t want to be locked in my room anymore, and I’m going to make sure I’m not. You, on the other hand, might think about blocking the door with something.”
“I wouldn’t want to keep you out,” she blurted, but blushed when she realized the implications. “I mean, if for some reason you did need me—if you remembered something suddenly.”
“I suppose I would wait until the morning,” he said gently, and she realized that she’d charmed him without meaning to. “But I think I’d feel better if you’d keep anyone else out of your room. Aren’t you afraid he might come back?”
She hadn’t thought about it, but he put the idea into her mind. Yes, it was very possible that the intruder might come back again this very night, and the thought did frighten her. She might not be so lucky as to only receive a curious touch.
“And if you do get scared, I’ll be right there. You can remove your barricade and come into my room if you want.”
His eyes went down to the locket at her chest, and he reached forward to take it between his fingers, bringing it up to examine it without a word. She felt his brief touch lingering on her skin.
“It’s a shame we can’t even talk to get to know each other again,” Celia said. “We don’t know ourselves and so all we can really do is sit and stare at one another.”
He looked into her eyes.
“That might help,” he said softly.
Watching his face, Celia realized how gentle his expression was, and it struck her then that the way he looked at her was different from the way he glared at everyone else. He had no ill-feelings toward her, despite what Maynard had suggested. He trusted her—cared about her. She believed that just by looking into his eyes.
I’m so glad you’re here with me, she thought suddenly. Perhaps he could be elsewhere, with his full memory, wondering where she was. But no. He was here to be with her until they both found themselves again.
She might have liked to tell him this, but the moment was spoiled before she had the chance. A heavier rain began to fall, stealing their attentions. Adam and Celia retreated back to the house, laughing as they came back under the shelter of the roof. The abrupt shower hadn’t soaked them, but it had interrupted a moment of intensity that would only have to come back on its own. Celia felt somewhat embarrassed by it, wasn’t sure what to do next as she helped Adam to close the glass doors to the balcony.
“That was refreshing,” Adam joked, running a hand through his hair, which seemed to have absorbed the most water. “Now what should we do?”
Celia looked out over the balcony, staring at the rain that pelted the stone outside, and she was glad that they hadn’t attempted to leave in this weather. She couldn’t stand the thought of risking another accident on the road. One was certainly enough. For one more night, at least, she would have to make herself comfortable here as best she could.
“Well,” she started, looking up at him and offering a little shrug. “I guess I could show you the house.”
Chapter Six
Celia and Adam spent the rest of the dreary day trailing through the house together, while sharp drops of rain continued to fall from the spiteful heavens outside. Though they had little to discuss as far as stories about life, they managed to comment on things they saw within the house, paintings that hung on the walls and the shapes of the architecture. They wandered freely in the house, though of course they could not go outside in the pouring rain and did not have access to some of the rooms, but they were satisfied with what they were given. Celia was simply glad to be with him. Not only was he pleasant to look at, but he smiled appreciatively at her, and that was more than most of the family would do.
“You seem to know a lot about the house already,” Adam noted after she had insisted on showing him every painting in the gallery that Irving had shown her previously.
“I was given a tour this morning,” she confessed as they took the steps to the first floor yet again. “I had hoped that you would join us…”
She let that note hang in the air, wanting him to know how she had missed his presence, but Adam did not defend himself as she expected. She thought he might apologize for wanting to sleep in, but instead he turned very dark.
“I wasn’t invited,” he told her, and Celia was quiet. Hadn’t Irving said that Adam had asked not to be disturbed? He had lied to her about that as an excuse to avoid Adam as they viewed the house. It was a small lie, but it made Celia feel uneasy. Why had Irving wanted to be alone with her?
“So, what else caught your interest?” Adam asked. She appreciated that he was trying to lift himself out of his bad mood. “Or have we seen it all?”
“There is one more thing I wanted to show you,” she said. She took his hand and led him past the stairs and down the hallway until she had reached the music room.
“Ah,” he said as he gazed around the flesh-colored walls and then back to the center. “A piano.”
When he said it, a tinge of the familiar resounded inside Celia’s mind, and she grew excited.
“When I first came in here, it bothered me that I recognized the piano immediately and yet could not remember where I had ever seen one,” she explained, walking over to it. “I’ve noticed that about nearly everything I’ve seen in this house, but all of a sudden, I remembered.”
Adam looked at her with interest. “You remembered something?”
“Just now,” she said. “I have this image in my head of a piano in a room—a wooden room. It’s not the same room as this…” She paused, looking back at him from where she was standing in front of the piano bench. “But I don’t know where I saw the room either. I know it isn’t significant…”
“I’d say it’s a start,” Adam said, stepping over to the piano beside her. He put his finger down on one of the keys and let the rich note fill the room. “I’ve been thinking over a lot of those things, too. How do I know how to lace up my shoes? Who taught me?”
Adam put his finger on a second key which obviously did not go along with the first. It reverberated flatly in the stark room.
“How do I know how to wind my watch? And yet I don’t even recognize my own face. It’s like I’m looking at a stranger.” He stopped, turning toward her. “Do you feel that way when you look at me?”
Celia searched his face. It was true that she felt she had only met him last night, even though she would like to believe she had known him before that. His fingers continued to pass over the keys as she considered her answer.
“I’m feeling more
familiar,” she said finally. It was the only thing she could think of that sounded reassuring. He smiled a little, looking back down at the ivories.
“I appreciate that.” Adam looked up again, scanning his eyes over the walls. “I hate the color of this room.”
Celia smiled a little and turned away to amuse herself with the rest of the sunlit space. She moved toward the music box in the corner, examining the numerous cylinders that would persuade the machine to produce a song, but before she had decided on how to make the machine work, the sound of the piano caught her attention. Adam was pressing up through a row of keys and then passing back down. She recognized the sound of it. It was a simple musical scale.
“I’ve heard that before,” she said, but Adam didn’t seem to be paying much attention.
“Hold on.” He sat down on the bench, playing the scale again and again, faster and faster. Then, he placed both hands on the ivory keys and began to play, and to Celia’s surprise, it actually sounded like music. Every new note went with the one before it, and though she couldn’t say that she had heard this particular piece, she was fascinated by what Adam could do.
She sat down beside him on the bench, watching his fingers dance over the keys, saying nothing for fear that she would disturb him. He played for a few minutes, the flow soft and soothing, and finally the tune played out.
“That’s all I’ve got,” he said, staring at the keys as if they should have offered him something more.
“That was beautiful,” Celia praised, thrilled beyond measure.
“It just came to me. I wasn’t even thinking it; I just did it,” Adam said, and there was no lack of pleasure on his own face. He turned to her with a smile. “I guess I’m a musician.”
She couldn’t help but smile back, happy that he had found some part of himself, but in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder if they had discovered anything at all. Was playing the piano the same as knowing how to read? But Adam was looking into her eyes, and she soon forgot all about it.
Sitting there so close on the piano bench, Celia knew that she wanted to kiss him. Yes, she remembered what a kiss was, though she couldn’t say if she’d ever had one. Was it improper to crave his lips so soon? They hadn’t known each other for very long—maybe—or perhaps they had known each other for ages. She wondered if he was considering the very same thing as he looked back at her—but Celia lost sight of his eyes when she noticed the shadow in the doorway.
Her shift in attention led Adam to turn his head, and soon they were both staring at the swollen figure of Anjessica. She seemed surprised to find them there, or perhaps was embarrassed that she had interrupted a seemingly intimate moment.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Anjessica uttered. Her eyes drifted all around the room, merely flickering over the two of them as she glanced elsewhere. “I heard the piano. I thought maybe Irving was playing. It’s been so long since I’ve heard real music, I…”
The woman stopped talking and simply drifted away from the door. Celia almost called her back, but Anjessica was already gone before she could speak up. The encounter had been strange. Celia could not get to the root of Irving’s quiet wife, but she gave up when Adam looked at her. He seemed as confused as she was by Anjessica’s appearance and departure, and they both silently agreed to cast it aside. Adam put his fingers back to the keys and began to play again.
The two comfortable strangers spent much of the day in the music room, and by the end, Adam had discovered three more songs. Celia thought that she had heard one of them before, but couldn’t say where. Likewise, Adam could not call the names of anything he was playing, but they enjoyed themselves and a corner of the house was filled with music. They stopped only when one of the twin maids came in to announce dinner. No lunch had been served to them, and neither Adam nor Celia had even noticed.
They were led into the dining room, where they were shown to their same seats, opposite each other, and the LaCroix family was arranged around them, but there was one exception. Baltus LaCroix was absent from his place on the end, and Celia had to admit that she was satisfied with that. Since she’d been with Adam, she’d forgotten to dread his gaze, but was thankful now that she did not have to trouble herself over it. Rain pelted the windows outside as the candles danced within, creating a dim glow that might have been perfect for a séance. The identical Margot and Luci worked to place dishes of hot, creamy soup in front of them all, and Irving was prompt to start the conversation.
“I do believe I offered you good advice, Adam,” he said, holding up a hand toward the rain-splattered windows. “Attempting to travel in this weather might have caused you to catch something more deadly than amnesia.”
Maynard dropped his spoon at that moment, and it hit loudly against the bowl, splattering droplets of steaming liquid across the tabletop. Stares turned his way, but he did not regard them. He reclaimed the utensil quickly as if nothing had happened. Still, it was obvious that he was reacting to his brother’s words. Irving’s comment was tasteless, perhaps, but Adam must have been in good spirits, because he did not bite back.
“Yes, you were right after all,” Adam said.
“I suppose you both found the house to your liking?” Irving asked, ignorant of the upset his words had caused—or perhaps pretending to be.
“Celia was a fine guide,” Adam asserted. She realized he was taking this moment to jab at his host since he’d not been invited to tour the structure.
“Very good,” Irving said as if he didn’t notice—once again. “You know, the LaCroixs inherited this manor approximately—”
Irving kept talking, but Celia had ceased to listen. She was busy examining Maynard, who sat beside her, sipping his soup quietly, ignoring her presence. He had spoken to her earlier, and had given her some warnings, all of which had seemed ridiculous. Her day with Adam had caused her to forget about much of it, but it all came back to her now. And why wouldn’t Maynard look at her? She studied him for another moment and then gave up, gazing back down at her soup, feeling suddenly depressed.
Adam had discovered something about himself today, and while she was glad for him, she had nothing significant to say about herself. She was still empty. Holding a spoonful of soup halfway to her mouth, she stared down into the shallow puddle of liquid. There was something hypnotic about the way the grease collected on top, swirling over the opaque pool. Celia began to think of her memories in that sense. They were a depth in a spoon, untasted. She wondered if she could swim away in the waters. She began to imagine drowning in it.
If I do not die here, she reasoned, I will drown in the emptiness of my own mind.
Believing that her throat would close, Celia pulled herself to abrupt attention, spilling the soup out of the spoon and back into the bowl beneath it. She gasped lightly at herself and raised her eyes to see if anyone had witnessed her moment of distance. Irving was still talking about the house, or possibly the piano, and Adam appeared to be the only one listening. Maynard was staring at his own soup as he took small sips. Celia began to feel her embarrassment fade, thankful for their averted attentions. Then, her eyes settled on Anjessica across the table. The pregnant woman looked very pale beside her husband, with her face directed down at the bowl in front of her. Was it something that had been said? Or perhaps it was the soup?
She’s sick.
Celia continued to watch the dark-haired woman, wishing to ask her if she was alright, but thinking that it was not her place.
No one else seems to notice.
She became hopeful when Anjessica began to raise her head up, for she thought that the woman had settled herself. Their eyes met, and Celia offered her a look of concern—just as the woman opened her mouth to let an eruption of bile spill out into her soup bowl.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Irving cried out in objection, rising up from his chair. Swiftly, he lifted up a thick cloth napkin and put it into his wife’s hands. Anjessica managed to hold the cloth to her mouth, rising up laboriously with a han
d on her swollen stomach, but heaved again into the napkin, spilling acidic vomit down her dress. The smell was quick to hit the air, and it drifted into Celia’s nose and triggered recognition. The stink was familiar.
“Margot! See to her, will you?” Irving commanded. “Get this mess cleaned up, Luci.”
There were two murmurs of ‘yes, sir’ and the tasks were seen to. Luci rushed upon the mess and Anjessica was led quickly from the room by Margot, who attached herself to the woman’s arm. Once she was gone, Irving was quickly back in his chair without wasting time on concern for his wife. The only emotion he showed was annoyance.
Celia sent a rather shocked gaze at Adam, who returned it, and a moment later Irving addressed them.
“Forgive my wife. I hope she didn’t spoil your dinner.”
“Oh no; please,” Celia insisted, sympathetic to the woman’s trouble. “Has she been very sick?”
“I suppose she is having a bit of difficulty with the pregnancy,” the man said earnestly, dropping his spoon disgustedly back into his own soup as the maid worked busily beside him. Apparently, he’d lost his appetite.
Celia was appalled to hear how nonchalantly he spoke. He supposed his wife was having difficulty? Why didn’t he know? Was he not concerned about her? Their child? The girl had not found anything to cause her to dislike Irving, but this may have changed her opinion.
“Does she have a doctor?” Adam asked, accusingly, and Celia was glad he had spoken up. “You should have one living here since the roads are so terrible. What if there is an emergency?”
Irving seemed put off by this. It was the first time he’d appeared irritated by any of Adam’s remarks.
“Baltus is actually quite knowledgeable about such things. He’s been looking after her.”
How terrible, Celia thought, twisting her napkin in her hands. Someone should be concerned about the woman.
