Secrets. Was I willing to shine a light into the darkest corners? “The last time I was in a hospital, Michael was born. The place was so huge and frightening to me.”
Zeb studied me a long moment. “Were your parents with you?”
“My dad had already passed. I was staying with a friend of my mother’s in Winchester and when my labor started, she was called. She drove out to get me and helped me pack my bag. As she drove me to the hospital in Winchester, she never said one word.” The rolling landscape had raced past me as contractions gripped my belly. “I just did my best not to cry.”
His frown telegraphed his disapproval. “She didn’t support you very much.”
“I can’t blame her. My father died over two years before my sister. Mom always struggled with emotion, and their deaths shut her down completely.”
“It’s okay to be angry with her, Rae.”
“I’m not angry. Or at least I wasn’t.” I tipped my head back. “That heart of stone you gave me pretty much sums it up.”
“That’s not true. Not at all. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t care, Rae. And losing Michael explains a lot about you.”
Unwanted tears burned, and I pressed my fingertips to my eyes. “Only a few people know, including Lisa, and she only found out by accident. She was a good friend of my sister’s and she happened to see me right before Michael was born.”
He took my cold hand in his and gently squeezed. “No one will know about this from me.”
“He’s not going to be a secret anymore. He’s a part of me and I can’t deny that anymore.”
“Fair enough.”
His phone dinged with a text and he dug it out. A smile tugged at the edge of his lips and he turned the phone toward her. It was a picture of Addie, Carrie, and Eric peering through the windowpanes of a reclaimed window covered with white, chipping paint.
“Addie is a good soul,” I said.
“She is.”
“You and Addie have a lot in common.”
He tucked his phone back in his pocket. “Trying to fix me up, Dr. McDonald?”
The words lifted the weight off my heart for an instant and I could almost smile. “No.”
“Good.” His focus didn’t waver.
I moistened dry lips. “Margaret asked me to find a husband for Rachel and my first thought was you. You both make logical sense.”
His gaze held mine. “Really?”
“You two have a lot in common. Children. Family. Friends. And then you said she felt like a sister.”
“I can find my own woman, Rae.”
“I would agree.”
He traced the back of my hand with his thumb.
Words so long locked away rushed toward a bottleneck. “I like you.”
“I like you, too, Rae.”
I looked at him. “I mean like like.”
“I know what you mean. I understand why you don’t like your house, but you have hired me for four different jobs.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “You’re a good contractor.”
“That, too. But I don’t visit my other job sites as much as I do yours.”
“You don’t?”
“Why do you think I kept revising those plans for you and coming by your house? That’s not standard client treatment.”
“Oh.”
“For a matchmaker, you should have seen through that.”
“I’m not a matchmaker.” A frown wrinkled my brow. “Ironic. I like you and now I’m telling it all to you in one rush. If it’s too much . . . I understand.”
Lines around his mouth deepened with a frown. “Do I strike you as the kind of guy who runs from trouble?”
“No.”
“You’re right. I’m not.”
Susan entered the room, her round face drawn. I wanted to rise but couldn’t get out of the chair. “Susan.”
She came up to me and took my hand. Her grip held surprising strength. “He’s out of surgery. They had to remove his spleen and he’s lost a lot of blood.”
I searched her watery eyes. “But he’s going to be all right?”
“The doctors are still worried. I can see it in their expressions. They said the next twenty-four hours will be critical.”
I’d lost Michael once, but to lose him again . . . “I feel like this is my fault. I thought it would be fun for him to hear about the witch bottles.”
“This isn’t your fault. I don’t want to see you beat yourself up.” Her voice caught in her throat and tears spilled down her cheeks. “He was very excited and looked forward to seeing you and learning more about his family history. He wanted to drive and I let him because I was tired. Michael’s always taking care of me without one word of complaint. Todd’s job requires him to travel out of town a lot.”
“Susan, your health is none of my business . . .”
“I have cancer,” she said without hesitation, as if she’d said it a million times. “Breast cancer. My second bout with it. The radiation has been rough, but the latest blood work looks hopeful.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Michael has been a champ. I don’t think I’d have made it without him.” She shook her head. “I’ve got to beat this, at least until he’s a little older.”
“You’ve raised a great kid.”
“You made a great kid and I will always be indebted to you for your unselfishness.” She squeezed my hand again. “He’s tough, and I know he’ll pull through.”
I didn’t dare voice my fears of the McDonalds’ terrible track record for longevity. “I know he will.”
As if recalling a memory, a smile teased her lips. “When he was ten, he decided to build a ramp in the backyard. He thought of himself as a stuntman. He propped up boards on my lawn furniture. I remember coming around the side of the house just as he took off. He hit the ramp before I could tell him to stop, and within seconds his front wheel pitched down and he sailed right over his handlebars. Evel Knievel on a bad day. Fell on his arm and broke it in two places. I freaked out. But all he could talk about was how he’d adjust the ramp for the next jump. When I pointed out his arm was broken, he was excited about the cast he’d get to wear the next day at school. I aged a decade that day.”
“In twenty-four hours, he’ll be doing handstands for the nurses,” I said.
More tears ran down her cheeks, and she wiped them away. “I should have taken over driving once we hit heavy traffic, but he was so sure he could drive and didn’t want to be late for the presentation. He really wanted to see the exhibit on the bottles.”
“There will be plenty of time for you both to visit and see the exhibit.”
The nurse came and removed the needle from my arm, and as soon as she put a bandage on me, I rose out of my chair and hugged Susan. I’m not usually a hugger—or at least I hadn’t been for a long time. “Where’s your husband?”
“He’s flying in tonight. He’s out west. I called him. He’ll arrive at National in a couple of hours and come straight here.”
The nurse removed the needle from Zeb’s arm. “When does your husband’s flight arrive?” he asked.
Susan checked her watch. “In about an hour. He’s going to grab a cab.”
“Let me send one of my guys to pick him up and bring him here.”
She pressed trembling fingertips to her temple. “Normally, his car is at the airport, but it needed an oil change so I dropped him off. Our other car is at home.”
“Tomorrow I’ll see that he gets a ride to his car.”
She laid a palm over her heart. “You’re so nice. You don’t have to.”
“Glad to help.”
“Rae, thank you for giving blood,” Susan said. “Michael not only looks just like you, but thank God, he has your blood type.”
I rolled down my sleeve
, covering the bandage. “If he needs anything. Anything. Let me know. I’ll give it.”
“You’re a good friend.” She hugged me close. “I’ve often thought about what it must have been like for you to share him with me. I never wanted to let you down.” Fresh tears streamed down her face. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him.”
Losing him once had sealed my heart. I couldn’t bear the idea of losing him again. “Can I see him?”
“The doctor wants you to wait until morning. I could only see him for a minute.”
Right. She was his mother. She had the right to the minute I so desperately would have taken. “I can spend the night.”
“Go home, Rae. There’s no chance of him waking before morning. I have a cot next to his room and will call if there is any new development.”
I didn’t want to leave him. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
After hugging her again, I left with Zeb, who said, “Let me drive you back home.”
Nodding, I followed him as we made our way to his truck. Inside, I sat numb and unable to move as he started the engine and turned on the lights. “You both are so lucky to have such a kid in your life right now.”
Surrounded by the darkness and with only the light of the dash, we drove through the city. “Zeb, just take me to the warehouse. I can get my car.”
“I don’t mind driving you home, Rae.”
“I know. You’ve been great. Rock solid. But I need to stop by and see Margaret and Addie. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m checking in on you in the morning.”
“I’d like that.”
At the warehouse, he pulled up to the curb and through the large display window I could see Addie, Margaret, and Lisa. The cab was warm and with him close, I felt safe. Secure. “Thanks again, Zeb.”
He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Anytime.”
Avoiding temptation was one of my strong suits, but the idea of kissing him now was just too appealing. I leaned forward. When he didn’t move, I pushed past the halfway point and kissed him on the lips. He tasted salty, rough, soft . . . so good. For an instant, he didn’t move, and then he raised a hand to my cheek and kissed me back.
Blood warmed and surged in my veins. My senses sharpened. Time slowed. The tumblers of an old lock fell into place.
Slowly, I drew back. “To clarify, that was not just a thank-you kiss.”
The corner of his mouth rose. “Nor was it a you’re-welcome kiss.”
“You have to go in and get Eric.”
He traced small circles on my shoulder. “Addie texted. He’s asleep in her apartment. I’ll get him in the morning. He likes sleeping over.”
“Having family close is good for him.”
He brushed a small strand of hair from her eyes. “Yeah.”
“See you soon.”
“Tomorrow,” he said.
Outside the truck, the night air felt good on my face. Zeb nodded and then shifted into gear and pulled into traffic.
I pushed through the front door of the warehouse.
Addie, Margaret, and Lisa rose immediately. Both looked at me with worry. “Are you all right?” Addie asked.
“I’m fine,” I said.
Lisa shook her head. “Are you sure? You look pale.”
Margaret studied me for a long moment. “Rae, you look ragged as hell.”
“I gave blood at the hospital. Where are the witch bottles, Margaret? I never got to see the one that belonged to the McDonalds.”
“Right over here.” She took me to the long table in the back where she’d moved the bottles. Two were intact and one in pieces.
“Addie, what happened to the Shire bottle?” I asked.
“I accidentally dropped it. It shattered the instant it hit the floor.”
“What was inside?” I was no longer looking at her family bottle but the dark round one in the center. The McDonald bottle. The neck was not as long as the Smyths’ and the base was wider. Judging by the shape, it had held port.
“There were nails, buttons, glass, and a note sealed in wax.”
I picked up the bottle and traced my finger around the cork top sealed with wax. “The note. What did yours say?”
“May I never see my sister again. Sarah Goodwin was afraid people would realize Faith, the witch, was her sister.”
“So she prayed she would never see her sister again?” I asked.
“That’s right.” Addie ran her hands through her dark, curly hair. “Seems like Sarah’s wish became her curse.”
“How so?” I held my bottle up to the light. It’s brown glass offered no clues about the contents.
“That’s what my mother used to say. Generations of Shire women have been bound to their sisters by mental illness.”
I tipped the bottle, listening to the clink of metal. “You and Janet seem to be doing fairly well.”
Addie slid her hands into her pockets, puzzled by my sudden change in tone. “We aren’t perfect, but it’s the best it’s ever been in our lives.”
My grip on the bottle tightened. “And that’s good for Carrie and Eric, right?”
“I think so.”
Holding the bottle up higher, I tried once again to will the light into the darkness and reveal its centuries-old secret. It remained smugly opaque. “Margaret, you said that Faith lived with the McDonalds for the rest of her life.”
“That’s right.”
“Because of her son.”
“Yeah. She gave him up so he had a better chance at a fulfilling life. But she never could bring herself to leave the only home they had known as a family.”
“Would you have cursed the Godwins, McDonalds, and Smyths?” I asked.
Margaret nodded. “In a New York minute.”
“I think Faith did curse them all,” I said.
“Why do you say that, Rae?” Margaret asked.
“I understand her anger,” I said.
“What was Mistress Smyth’s involvement with Faith?” Lisa asked.
“I believe it was Captain Cyrus Smyth who convinced the judge to sell Faith into indenture. She was described as a striking woman, and he knew he could fetch a handsome price for her contract in the colonies,” Margaret said.
“All three families betrayed her,” Lisa whispered.
“Oh, yeah,” Margaret said.
“What did Patience McDonald wish for?” I asked.
“No one really knows,” Margaret said. “But Patience endured a great deal of loss and pain.”
I knew she wished away emotion.
Before I stopped to analyze anything, I opened my hand slowly and let the bottle fall. Almost in slow motion, it drifted through the air, plunging toward the concrete. It hit the wood floor and shattered into five large pieces.
Addie’s mouth dropped open.
Lisa closed her eyes.
Margaret’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Holy shit, Rae. What have you done?”
July 3, 1782
My Dearest Children,
Marcus came home to the farm today to visit. We spoke of the fine, prosperous tavern he has built. Men of great importance visit his place and talk of politics and the war which we all hope will end soon. Marcus never joined the fighting but I fear he carries secrets for the rebels and takes great risks with his life. Marcus bade me to leave the farm and move into his home. But I told him I could not. I will stay until Patrick returns from the battlefield. He has been at war for nearly six years and I pray for his safe return. Marcus resented my decision and was angry but in the end he understood my resolve.
—F
Chapter Twenty-one
Rae McDonald
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 10:00 P.M.
The four of us gawked at the shattered pieces. I wasn’t quite sure why I thought breaking the
bottle would accomplish anything. Had I expected a rush of euphoria that would sweep away all the heartache, turn back the clock, and prevent the many mistakes that had brought me to this moment?
There was no crack of thunder. No sudden breeze. No shift in the earth. There was only the broken pieces of brown glass scattered around four nails, a button, several pebbles, and what looked like a scroll, rolled up tightly with a wax coating preserving the ink. Just like the Smyth bottle.
Margaret knelt down with her hands in the air. “Don’t anyone move! I’m not sure right now if I’m upset because the bottle broke or if I’m excited because I can finally get a good look at its contents.”
Addie backed up slowly and then rushed behind the register, where she kept a small box. “We can put the pieces in this.”
Lisa looked at me as if I’d come unhinged.
Margaret reached in her back pocket, pulled out her cell phone, and began to snap pictures. “Rae, what the hell happened? Is there something you want to get off your chest?”
“I dropped the bottle on purpose.”
Her gaze locked on me. “Say again?”
“I was hoping it might help.”
“Help what?”
“Break the curse.”
“Break the curse. Shit.” Margaret shook her head as she tucked her phone back in her pocket and reached for the roll of wax likely holding the scroll. “Addie, can you get my white gloves from behind the register, as well as my kit?”
“Right.”
Kit. Like a crime scene investigator, Margaret had her tools of the trade. Addie returned with what looked like a fishing tackle box and plastic gloves.
Tugging on gloves with a snap, Margaret surveyed the scene before her as if it were some kind of homicide. “Addie, tweezers. Best not to touch it with bare hands. The oils on my skin may damage the paper.”
Addie fished out a pair of silver tweezers and handed them to Margaret.
Frowning, Margaret slowly peeled wax from the paper. “Get your camera, Addie. I’ll hold it open while you snap a picture and then we can read the images on the phone. Less stress on the paper.”
The View from Prince Street Page 28
