Eriq nodded.
“Go out into the gardens,” she said. “Come back in a half hour. We will have luncheon then.”
Catherine gave Grand-Mère a questioning look and was answered with a nod.
As they left the suite, her mind returned to the lecherous tale of the king. She shook her head, but then her top-knot started to sway and she put her hand up to stop it.
“I don’t know who would think of touching you with that thing on,” Eriq said, as if reading her mind.
She laughed at his words, patted the top-knot, and cooed, “My protector.” But then she took it off, afraid it might plummet from her head.
Eriq turned serious. “You know I would not let anyone hurt you.”
She did know but was not sure what to say in return, so she remained silent. They continued halfway down the hall until they heard voices, and then Eriq stopped just before they reached an open doorway. A woman sat in a chair, her back to them, with her elbow on the arm and her head resting on her hand. She was speaking to at least two others they could not see, discussing something about Suzanne’s nephew and his interest in acquiring properties.
Eriq motioned to Catherine to keep going. She did, slowly, but then paused when she spotted across the room a partially finished painting of a woman reclining in a chair, her gray hair piled atop her head and a diamond necklace around her neck. With a start, Catherine realized that the woman in the painting and the woman in the chair talking about properties were one and the same. Given what Suzanne had just said about the portraits being made, she realized this must be Madame de Maintenon.
That was exciting enough. But then an older man suddenly came into view, elaborately attired in a white wig, silver coat, and high-heeled shoes. He was looking at the woman, but then he raised his head, noticed Catherine standing there, and smiled, wrinkles spreading around his mouth and eyes.
King Louis XIV. Le Roi Soleil.
Paralyzed, Catherine could only stare in return until Eriq grabbed her hand and pulled her away, out of sight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Renee
The next morning was the reunion’s closing event, the big Talbot family church service, which was held in one of the ballrooms of the hotel. With such a large group of people, there was always plenty of ministerial talent to choose from for this event, and the whole thing ended up being lovely, with music provided by a Talbot quartet and a great sermon from a distant Talbot cousin. Rejected from yesterday’s ceremony, somehow Aunt Cissy had wormed her way onto the slate today, but even she was not so bad—thanks mostly to the huge room and a faulty microphone that went strangely quiet almost the moment she started to sing.
As the service drew to a close, my thoughts kept going back to one of the Bible verses the pastor had quoted, from Proverbs: The wicked flee when no one pursues, but the righteous are bold as a lion.
I wanted to be bold as a lion. But most of the time I was about as bold as a Malayan tapir, whose best defense when pursued was to dive underwater and wait for its predator to go away.
So many times in my life, I had hidden rather than stood up for myself. I had failed at being brave as a child when I ran screaming from the sight of a dead body and then later when I had not been able to convince a single adult of that fact. I had failed at being brave as a teenager, when I learned what a good hiding place a science lab could be. Even now, as an adult, I was still afraid, still hiding, still always watching for danger around every corner.
I couldn’t even be brave for love, I realized as I stood there surrounded by the chattering crowd. Just as Danielle had said the other day, none of my relationships ever worked out. I always picked the same type of guy: cerebral, polite, nonthreatening men who were easy to get to know and easy to keep at a distance. Anytime things became too serious or my feelings began to grow, I’d find a way to cut the guy off. I stayed aloof. Insulated. Free from the entanglements of love. Which kept me protected, yes, but also kept me isolated and lonely.
Until a few days ago, that is, when Blake Keller came along. The polar opposite of my usual type, he was big and muscular and physical, not to mention headstrong and stubborn and quick. He was also a lot smarter than I’d first given him credit for, and I was attracted to him despite myself. Yet that meant stepping outside my comfort zone and actually risk getting to know the kind of man who would never tolerate being kept at a distance.
Yesterday afternoon in my grandfather’s study, we didn’t lock in a date or share a kiss. But we did make a plan for the biggest thing I felt was standing in our way, a plan that would unfold tonight, out in the Dark Woods at the cabin.
After the service, everyone went through a half hour of goodbyes and why-don’t-you-come-for-a-visits and it-was-so-great-to-see-you-agains. Then the crowd began to thin until finally our time with the ballroom was up and we had to go.
Lunch for the immediate family was back at Nana’s, once again catered. But with cold cuts, sandwich fixings, and various salads, it was a simpler affair than Friday night’s fancy dinner. Some had to eat and run so they could catch their flights home, but some stayed for hours, aunts and uncles and closer cousins I hadn’t really had a chance to visit with yet because I’d been so busy with the pamphlet. The whole afternoon, in fact, was all about family. But when the crowd had thinned down a bit, we got out a board game and played as if we were children again, having a blast.
Danielle and Maddee each slipped out for a while, but when they came back they indicated with a subtle nod and a thumbs-up that they had managed to work things out so they could stick around till tomorrow. I was so relieved. This way, not only could we all find out together, but my cousins and I could face the source of our biggest fear head on, hand in hand, which was long overdue.
If only Nicole could be there with us too. First thing this morning, Maddee had texted her and told her what was going on, adding that we’d missed her at the reunion but we wouldn’t hassle her about it if she wanted to show up tonight just for our experiment with the luminol. Several hours later came a single-word reply: Maybe.
Whether she came or not, the plan was to meet up with Blake at the tennis court at eleven p.m., long after all of the other relatives and the staff had gone and Nana was in bed. After such an exhausting weekend, I felt sure she would sleep soundly from the moment her head hit the pillow until the next morning.
I suppose I should have felt bad about not telling her our plan, but I had never felt less guilty in my life. My cousins and I agreed that it was to be a top secret venture—until we knew the results, that is. If blood really was detected at the scene, then we didn’t care if the whole world found out. But if for some reason the test failed—not because the body hadn’t been real, but simply because too much time had elapsed or the area had been contaminated in some way—then we would never tell a soul what we’d done tonight. Even all these years later, not one of us could handle a fresh round of accusation, ridicule, and doubt.
At ten thirty, half an hour before go-time, I found Danielle and Maddee standing in the living room of the guesthouse with no lights on, looking out through the sliding door across the expansive lawn. Considering we were just three days shy of a full moon, we’d expected good visibility, but currently the sky was overcast, the moonlight obscured by a thick layer of clouds. Whether it was bright enough to see the Dark Woods or not, we all knew they were there.
“Here, I got us these,” I said softly, walking to the table and setting out the contents of my plastic shopping bag: bug repellant wipes and five small LED flashlights.
Coming over, they each grabbed a flashlight, tested it, and shoved it in a pocket. I grabbed two, one for me and one to give to Blake. We opened the wipes and began rubbing the disposable cloths over every inch of exposed skin, trying to ignore the fifth flashlight still sitting there, the one I’d gotten for Nicole, just in case. We’d never heard another word from her, which wasn’t a good sign.
Knowing we might need some time to acclimate ourselves for
what lay ahead, my two cousins and I had decided to head out a little early. We planned to do nothing more than sit on the tennis court and take in our surroundings. After twenty minutes of darkness, I figured our eyes would be nicely dilated, our ears would have adjusted to the night’s noises, and perhaps our nerves would have settled a bit as well.
The nerves part was what I needed most right now. Suddenly, just the thought of walking out that door nearly sent me into a panic attack.
“Y’all mind?” I asked, but before they could even reply I grabbed their hands, bowed my head, and said a quick prayer for strength, guidance, and protection.
“Amen,” we all whispered in unison, then we dropped hands and just stood there for moment, looking at each other.
“Guess it’s now or never,” Maddee said.
“Yep,” Danielle replied with false bravado. “Let’s do this thang.”
Then she led the way to the door. I grabbed the wipes, and before Maddee turned to follow, she impulsively scooped up the fifth flashlight.
“You never know,” she said to me sheepishly as she tucked it into her pocket. “She still has twenty minutes.”
Then we headed out.
At least the moonlight seemed a little brighter once we were outside, which was a good thing because we didn’t want to use the flashlights unless we absolutely had to, lest someone notice and call the police or come to investigate for themselves.
When we reached the tennis court, we pushed open the fence gate, wincing at the rusty squawk, and then walked all the way to the middle and sat, cross-legged, on the ground. The night air was surprisingly cool and pleasant, but the clay surface radiated its stored warmth from the day. As we sat there, we didn’t really talk much. We were each lost in our own thoughts, searching for whatever inner strength we could muster.
Coming early had been a good idea. We jumped at every new sound at first, but by the time we heard footsteps heading our way, we weren’t flinching at all.
“Guess Blake is here.” Danielle got to her feet and we followed suit.
“I can’t believe she didn’t show,” Maddee said sadly as she brushed dirt from her jeans.
I reached out to place a comforting hand on her arm, but as I looked toward the sound, I realized the shadowy figure moving toward us was short and petite and in no way resembled Blake.
“Ready or not, here I am,” Nicole said softly, stepping through the gate and coming to a stop.
Even in the dim moonlight, I could see she was not looking good. Dressed in olive green army pants and a brown T-shirt, she was at least suited for the task. But she seemed thin and pale, her arms like sticks and her blond hair bleached to a vivid yellow.
Still, she had come.
Stifling our squeals, we ran to her and pulled her into a group hug, and though she responded stiffly at first, by the time we let go, a grin was on her face.
“Where you been, cuz?” Danielle whispered, reaching out to stroke her hair. Nicole was the youngest and tiniest of our foursome, and we all tended to treat her like our little pet. We even used to tease that she was our mascot.
Nicole shook her head. “No hassles. Y’all promised.”
“No hassles,” Danielle replied. “We’ve just missed you, is all. We were worried about you.”
“Well, I’m here now,” she said.
I could tell she was uncomfortable, and I had to give her credit for coming, especially making the long drive all by herself. Staring off toward the main house, she smacked at her arm, which reminded me of the bug wipes. I handed them over. She took them gratefully, and by the time she was done using them, I could see Blake coming our way.
He was dressed in dark clothes, a camera bag slung over his shoulder, a tripod in one hand and a black case about the size of a toaster oven in the other. No doubt that held the chemicals and the spray bottles. Knowing the luminol’s properties, I had a feeling it had to be mixed at the scene and used right away rather than being prepared ahead of time.
As he came through the gate, my heart skipped a beat. From the smile he flashed my way, I had a funny feeling he felt the same in return.
I introduced Nicole, and though Blake had learned enough about her from me to be surprised that she was here, he didn’t let it show. Once the greetings were done, he set down his things and quietly laid out the plan.
Soon, the five of us were moving single file over the footbridge with me in the lead and Blake bringing up the rear. There was only one path in and out, so despite the dark it wasn’t hard to find our way—except for the fact that we were still trying not to use flashlights at all, at least not until we were farther in. As we walked, I’m sure we each had our own worries. Mine vacillated between apprehension about seeing the cabin again and fear of running into a snake or some feral night creature. The farther we went, though, the more I began remembering, the more I found myself going back to the last time I made this hike when I was only a child.
Even at ages nine, nine, eight, and six, the four of us knew the trek well, so well we could have done it that year with our eyes closed. But we didn’t. There were too many birds to watch, too many familiar smells to take in—the crispness of pine needles, the humid sweetness of summer moss.
Thinking back now, I could still remember the sounds of our hike, the crunch of boots on dried leaves, the sucking kiss of mud when we stepped in it. That sound, in fact, so entranced little Nicole that she’d been slowing us down the whole way, pausing at every muddy patch we encountered to squish one foot into the brown muck and then pull it out again with a loud and satisfying schlurp.
“Hurry!” Maddee had scolded from up ahead. She pointed to the sky through the trees. “We’re losing daylight here.”
Of course, it was only about noon at the time, if I remembered correctly, and the cabin was just half a mile away, but that was Maddee for you.
“It’s all right,” said Danielle in her usual calm, peacemaker voice. She and I were always mediating between the two sisters—when we weren’t cracking up at the ridiculousness of their arguments.
“Well, I’m not waiting around anymore,” Maddee snapped. Then she turned and started hiking again, expecting the rest of us to fall in line.
Danielle and I stood there on the path, suspended between Maddee’s directive and Nicole’s stubbornness, a place we often found ourselves. We didn’t mind. We four were only together one weekend a year and we treasured every bit of it, even this.
“Fine,” Nicole snapped, making one more smush in the mud then running to catch up. “We’d better not keep Her Highness waiting.”
Chuckling, Danielle and I let Nicole pass and then fell in after her.
We’d been coming to these woods for a couple of years, ever since we were old enough to go off on our own without parents. The first time, Nicole had been so small she was barely able to keep up. She complained the whole way. But she had wanted to explore as badly as we did—and we never left each other out of anything. So she’d tagged along, and when the trek got really bad we took turns carrying her.
Our destination was always the same, the old cabin buried at the very center of the woods. I had a feeling it had once been a hunting cabin back before the area had grown more populated and hunting in those particular woods was prohibited. After that, it had slowly fallen into disrepair with vines growing up its sides, its old boards slowly rotting, its roof losing shingles till it looked like a dog with patches of mange.
But it was our favorite place in the world. In our imaginations, we were pioneers in the big woods, settlers at Jamestown, conductors on the Underground Railroad.
The day of the Incident, our hike started out like every other one had. As we came around the bend and the cabin loomed into view, we all paused together to take in the familiar sight. Then we made our way to the window beside the front door—if you could call a square hole with shutters but no glass a window. The shutters latched from the inside, but this one had always been easy enough to open with the aid of a small
but sturdy twig. All we had to do was insert it at the center and slide it upward, forcing the hook out of the loop. Once that was done, if we’d had longer arms, we probably could have just reached through far enough to unlock the door. As it was, we’d had to come up with a different approach.
“You know the drill,” Maddee said, stepping closer and placing her right leg forward, bent at the knee. Then Danielle did the same on the other side, and I stood behind Nicole and helped hoist her up until she was standing on their legs. Then she slid her arms inside the hole, and we lifted her, feeding her body inside, head first—but slowly enough that she didn’t get hurt. As our resident gymnast and daredevil, she didn’t mind all that much.
She did mind how hard it was to get the door unlocked. We could hear her on the other side, griping and pulling and trying to get it open.
“It’s too dark in here,” she complained, rattling the knob. “And there’s a weird smell too. Like rust.”
Finally, we heard a click and then the door swung open, letting fresh air into the dark space that had stayed closed up way too long.
“What do you know,” Maddee said as she stepped inside. “Nicole wasn’t exaggerating for once. It does smell in here.”
“Let’s get all the windows open. That’ll help,” I offered. We started with the window at the front, the one Nicole had climbed through. There were hooks on each side, and as soon as we latched open the shutters, a breeze fluttered in. Light came in as well. Danielle and I handled the window on the right and the sisters got the one on the left. By the time we had three windows latched open, we could actually see in there.
That’s when we turned to go to the last window, the one on the back wall, above the old cot.
Only then did we see that we weren’t alone in the cabin.
We didn’t scream, not at first. Maddee gasped. Danielle clutched my arm so hard I was sure her nails would leave a mark. Otherwise, the four of us just stood there in shocked silence, each one willing the other to speak.
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