Red lily gt-3

by Nora Roberts

  “She writes, ‘While I told you of the baby’s birth, I did not mention in previous correspondence that there was no sign in the months before that Mrs. Harper was expecting. Her activities, her appearance remained as ever. We who serve are privy to the intimate details of a household and those who live in it. It is unavoidable. There was no preparation for this child. No talk of nursemaids, of layettes, there was no lying-in for Mrs. Harper, no visits from the doctor. The baby was simply here one morning, as if, indeed, the stork had delivered him. While there was some talk belowstairs, I did not allow it to continue, at least in my presence. It is not our place to question such matters.

  “ ‘Yet, Lucille, she has been so separate from this child it breaks the heart. So, yes, I have wondered. There can be little doubt who fathered the boy as he is the image of Mister Harper. His maternity, however, was another matter, at least in my mind.’ ”

  “So they knew.” Harper turned to his mother. “She knew, this Havers, and the household knew. And nothing was done.”

  “What could they do?” Hayley asked, and her voice was thick with emotion. “They were servants, employees. Even if they’d made noise about it, who would listen? They’d have been fired and kicked out, and nothing would have changed here.”

  “You’re right.” Mitch sipped from his glass of mineral water. “Nothing would have changed. Nothing did. She wrote more.”

  He set down his glass, turned the next page. “ ‘Earlier today a woman came to Harper House. So pale, so thin was she, and in her eyes, Lucy, was something not only desperate but not quite sane. Danby—’ That was the butler at the time,” Mitch explained. “ ‘Danby mistook her for someone looking for employment, but she pushed into the house by the front door, something wild in her. She claimed to have come for the baby, for her baby. For her son she called James. She said she heard him crying for her. Even if the child had cried, no one could hear in the entrance hall as he was tucked up in the nursery. I could not turn her away, could not wrest her away as she ran wildly up the stairs, calling for her son. I do not know what I might have done, but the mistress appeared and bade me show the woman up to her sitting room. This poor creature trembled as I led her in. The mistress would allow me to bring no refreshment. I should not have done what I did next, what I have never done in all my years of employment. I listened at the door.’ ”

  “So she did come here.” There was pity in Stella’s voice as she laid a hand on Hayley’s shoulder. “She did come for her baby. Poor Amelia.”

  “ ‘I heard the cruel things the mistress said to this unfortunate woman,’ ” Mitch continued. “ ‘I heard the cold things she said about the child. Wishing him dead, Lucy, God’s pity, wishing him and this desperate woman dead even as she, who called herself Amelia Connor, asked to have the child returned to her. She was refused. She was threatened. She was dismissed. I know now that the master got this child, this son he craved, with this poor woman, his lightskirt, and took the baby from her to foist it on his wife, to raise the boy here as his heir. I understand that the doctor and the midwife who attended this woman were ordered to tell her the child, a girl child, was stillborn.

  “ ‘I have known Mister Harper to be coldly determined in his business, in his private affairs. I have not seen affection between him and his wife, or from him for his daughters. Yet I would not have deemed him capable of such a monstrous act. I would not have believed his wife capable of aligning herself with him. Miss Connor, in her ill-fitting gray dress and shattered eyes, was ordered away, was threatened with the police should she ever come back, ever speak of what was spoken of in that room. I did my duty, Lucille, and showed her from the house. I watched her carriage drive away. I have not been easy in my mind since.

  “ ‘I feel I should try to help her, but what can I do? Is it not my Christian duty to offer some assistance, or comfort at the very least, to this woman? Yet my duty to my employers, those who provide the roof over my head, the food I eat, the money which keeps me independent, is to remain silent. To remember my place.

  “ ‘I will pray that I come to know what is right. I will pray for this young woman who came for the child she birthed, and was turned away.’ ”

  Mitch set the pages down. And there was silence.

  Tears slid down Hayley’s cheeks. Her head was lowered, as it had been during the last page of Mitch’s recital. Now she lifted it, and with her eyes shining with tears, smiled.

  “But I came back.”

  seventeen

  “HAYLEY.”

  “Don’t.” Mitch stepped forward as Harper sprang off the floor. “Wait.”

  “I came back,” Hayley repeated, “for what was mine.”

  “But you weren’t able to get to the child,” Mitch said.

  “Wasn’t I? Didn’t I?” In the chair Hayley lifted her arms, held her palms up. “Aren’t I here? Didn’t I watch him, didn’t I sing him to sleep, night after night? And all the others who came after? They were never rid of me.”

  “But that’s not enough now.”

  “I want what’ s mine! I want my due. I want . . .” Her eyes darted around the room. “Where are the children? Where are they?”

  “Outside.” Roz spoke quietly. “Playing outside.”

  “I like the children,” Hayley said dreamily. “Who would have guessed? Such messy, selfish creatures. But so sweet, so soft and sweet when they sleep. I like them best when they sleep. I would have shown him the world, my James. The world. And he would never have left me. Do you think I want her pity?” she said in a sudden rage. “A housekeeper? A servant? Do you think I want pity from her? Damn her and the rest of them. I should have killed them in their sleep.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Her gaze shifted, latched on Harper. “There are other ways to damn. So handsome. You are so like him.”

  “I’m not. I’m yours. The great-grandson of your son.”

  Her eyes clouded, and her fingers plucked at the thighs of her pants. “James? My James? I watched you. Sweet baby. Pretty little boy. I came to you.”

  “I remember. What do you want?”

  “Find me. I’m lost.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “You know! You did it. You’re damned for it. Cursed with my last breath. I will have what’s mine.” Hayley’s head fell back, and her hand clutched at her belly before her body shuddered. “God.” She breathed out audibly. “Intense.”

  Harper grabbed her hands, knelt in front of her. “Hayley.”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes were blurred, her face white as paper. “Can I have some water?”

  He brought her hands up, pressed his face into them. “You can’t keep doing this.”

  “Just as soon not. She was pissed. Thanks,” she said to David as he handed her a glass of water. She drank it down like a woman dying of thirst. “Pissed, then sad, then pissed again—all sort of over the top on the emotional scale. The letter got to her. Well, it got to me.”

  She turned to Mitch with her hands still caught in Harper’s. “I felt so sorry for her, and for the housekeeper. I could see it. You know, how you do when you’re reading a book. The house, the people. I could imagine what it would be like if somebody had Lily, and I couldn’t do anything to get her back. ’Course the first thing I’d’ve done was clock Beatrice. The bitch. I guess I was getting pretty worked up, in my head, and she just sort of slid in.”

  Her fingers tightened on Harper’s. “She’s twisted up about you. Mostly, she’s just twisted altogether, but she remembers you as a baby, as a little boy, she feels love for you because you’re her blood. But you’re his, too. And you resemble him, sort of. At least that’s how it seems to me. It’s confusing when it happens.”

  “You’re stronger than she is,” Harper told her.

  “Saner anyhow. Way.”

  “You did great.” Mitch set his tape recorder aside. “And I’d say you’ve had enough for today.”

  “It’s been a busy one.” She worked up a smile as she lo
oked around the room. “Did I wig everybody out?”

  “You could say that. Look, why don’t you go up, stretch out,” Stella suggested. “Logan will go out, check on the kids. Right?”

  “Sure.” He stepped over to Hayley first, gave her head a pat. “Go on up, beautiful, take a load off.”

  “I think I will, thanks.” Harper straightened, took her hand to bring her to her feet. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys, I really don’t.”

  Roz waited until they were out of the room. “This is wearing on her. I’ve never seen her look so tired. Hayley’s a bundle of energy most times. Hell, she wears me out just watching her.”

  “We’ve got to finish this.” Logan walked to the door, opened it. “And soon,” he said before he went outside.

  “What can we do?” Stella spread her hands. “Waiting and watching doesn’t seem like enough. I don’t know about the rest of you, but seeing that happen, seeing it, shook me right down to the bone.”

  “I could go to Boston, help Veronica sort through the papers.” Mitch shook his head. “But I’m just not comfortable leaving right now.”

  “Safety in numbers?” Roz reached out a hand for his, squeezed. “I feel the same. To tell the truth, at this point I don’t like David spending so much time alone in the house.”

  “She doesn’t bother me.” He’d poured a glass of wine and lifted it now in a half toast. “Maybe because I’m not a blood-related male. Add gay to that and I’m not of much interest to her. You can factor in that she’d see me as a servant. That puts me bottom of the feeding chain.”

  “A lot she knows,” Roz replied. “But that’s logical, from her point of view, and does a lot to relieve my mind. Find her. She’s said that before.”

  “Her grave,” Mitch put in.

  “I think we’re all agreed on that.” Roz walked over, helped herself to a sip of David’s wine. “And how the hell are we supposed to do that?”

  LATER, WHEN THE house was quiet and Lily slept in her crib, Hayley couldn’t settle. “One minute I’m ready to drop, and the next I’m all revved up. I must be really annoying.”

  “Now that you mention it.” With a grin, Harper pulled her down on the sofa beside him. “Why don’t we watch the game. I’ll raid the kitchen for junk food.”

  “You want me to sit here and watch baseball?”

  “I thought you liked baseball.”

  “Yeah, but not enough to zone out in front of the TV.”

  “Okay.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I’m about to make the ultimate sacrifice for my breed. Pick a DVD. We’ll watch a movie, even if it’s a chick flick.”

  She eased back. “Really?”

  “But you have to make the popcorn.”

  “You mean you’ll sit here and watch a girlie movie without making snide comments?”

  “I don’t remember agreeing to the second part.”

  “You know, I like action flicks.”

  “Now we’re talking.”

  “But I’d love to watch something romancey, with a couple of good weep scenes. Thanks!” She pressed her lips noisily to his, then jumped up. “I’m loading the popcorn with butter.” At the door, she stopped and beamed back at him. “I feel better already.”

  SHE’D NEVER HAD so many ups and downs in her moods in all of her life. From manic energy to exhaustion, from joy to despair. She ran the gamut, it seemed, every day. And under the swings, the spurts, and the tumbles was an edgy anticipation of what happens next. And when.

  When she spiraled down, she struggled to remind herself of what she had. A beautiful child, a wonderful man who loved her, friends, family, a good interesting job. And still, once the spiral began, she couldn’t seem to control the fall.

  She worried there was something physically wrong with her. A chemical imbalance, a brain tumor. Maybe she was going as crazy as The Bride.

  Feeling harassed and overtired, she swung into Wal-Mart on her morning off to pick up diapers, shampoo, a few other basics. She could only thank God to be able to snatch this little window of alone time. Or alone with Lily time, she corrected, as she strapped her daughter in the shopping cart.

  At least nobody felt they were obliged to watch her when she was away from Harper House or work. And watching was what they did. Like hawks.

  She understood why, God knew she appreciated the concern and care. But that didn’t stop her from feeling smothered. She could barely start to brush her teeth without whoever was hovering offering to spread the paste on the brush for her.

  She wandered down aisles, listlessly picking up what she needed. Then she detoured into cosmetics, thinking a new lipstick might cheer her up. But the shades seemed too dark or too light, too bold or too dull. Nothing suited her.

  She looked so pale and wan these days, she decided if she put anything bright on her lips they’d look as though they walked into the room a foot ahead of her.

  New perfume maybe. But every tester she sniffed made her feel slightly queasy.

  “Just forget it,” she muttered, and glanced back at Lily who was trying to stretch out her arm to reach a spin rack of mascaras and eye pencils.

  “Not for a long time yet, young lady. It’s fun being a girl though, you’ll see. All these toys we get to play with.” She chose one of the mascaras herself, tossed it in the cart. “I just can’t seem to gear myself up for it right now. We’ll just go on, get your diapers. And maybe if you’re good, a new board book.”

  She turned down another aisle, reluctant to leave. Once she did, she’d need to take Lily to the sitter’s, go to work. Where somebody would be attached to her hip for the rest of the day.

  She wanted to do something normal, damn it. More, she wanted to feel like doing something. Anything.

  And an absent glance to her right stopped her in her tracks.

  Something that was both panic and nausea, with a helping of dull realization spurted into her belly. It continued to rise as she did hasty calculations in her head.

  While everything inside her sank, Hayley closed her eyes. She opened them again, looked into Lily’s happy face. And reached for the home pregnancy test.

  SHE DROPPED LILY off, kept a smile plastered on her face until she walked out the door to her car. Afraid to do otherwise, she kept her mind blank while she drove home. She wouldn’t think, she wouldn’t project. She would just go home, take the test. Twice. When it came out negative, which of course it would, she’d hide the packages somewhere until she could dispose of them without anyone knowing she’d had a panic attack.

  She wasn’t pregnant again. She absolutely couldn’t be pregnant again.

  She parked, and made certain the boxes were buried at the bottom of her bag and well hidden. But she’d taken two steps into the house when David appeared like some magic genie.

  “Hi, sugar, want a hand with that?”

  “No.” She gripped the bag to her chest like a cache of gold. “No,” she repeated more calmly. “I’m just going to take these things up. And I have to pee, if that’s all the same to you.”

  “It is. I often have to pee myself.”

  Knowing her tone had been nasty, she rubbed a hand over her face. “I’m sorry. I’m in a mood.”

  “Something else I often have.” He pulled an open tube of Life Savers from his pocket, thumbed out a cherry circle. “Open up.”

  She smiled, obeyed.

  “Let’s see if that sweetens your mood,” he said as he popped the candy into her mouth. “Can’t help worrying about you, honey.”

  “I know. If I’m not back down in fifteen minutes, you can call out the cavalry. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  She hurried up, then dumped the contents of the bag on her bed—for God’s sake, she’d forgotten the diapers. Cursing, she snatched both pregnancy tests and bolted to the bathroom.

  For a moment she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to pee. Wouldn’t that just be her luck? She ordered herself to calm down, took several long breaths. Added a prayer.
/>   Moments later, with the sweetness of cherry candy still on her tongue, she was staring at the stick with PREGNANT reading clear as day in its window.

  “No.” She gripped the stick, shook it as if it were a thermometer and the action would drop things back down to normal. “No, no, no, no! What is this? What are you?” She looked down at herself, rapped a fist lightly below her navel. “Some kind of sperm magnet?”

  Undone, she sat on the toilet lid, buried her face in her hands.

  THOUGH SHE MIGHT have preferred to crawl into the cabinet under the sink, curl up in the dark, and stay there for the next nine months, she didn’t have much time to indulge in a pity fest. She washed her face, slapping on cold water to eradicate the signs of her bathroom crying jag.

  “Yeah, crying’s going to make a difference,” she berated herself. “That’ll do the trick, all right. It’ll change everything so when you look at that stupid test again the damn stick will read: Why no, Hayley, you’re not pregnant. You just needed to sit on the toilet and bawl for ten minutes. Idiot.”

  She sniffled back what felt like another flood of tears and faced herself in the mirror. “You played, now you pay. Deal with it.”

  A quick makeup session helped. The sunglasses she grabbed out of her purse helped more.

  She buried the home pregnancy test boxes in the bottom of her underwear drawer, jumpy as a drug addict hiding his stash.

  When she went out, David was already halfway up the stairs.

  “I was about to get my bugle.”

  She stared at him. “What?”

  “To call the cavalry, honey. You were longer than fifteen.”

  “Sorry. I got . . . Sorry.”

  He started to smile and brush it off, then shook his head. “Nope, not going to pretend I don’t know you’ve been crying. What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t.” Even on those two words her voice shook, broke. “I’m going to be late for work.”

  “Somehow the world will keep turning. What you’re going to do is sit right down here in my office.” Taking her hand, he tugged until she sat on the steps with him. “And tell Uncle David your troubles.”