by Claire Adams
"Not bad news," the man said, "just a reminder that you have to be patient. Your father is, as I understand it, part of a specialized team."
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Please, just tell me."
The man cleared his throat. "There is a situation. Your father's team thought it better to remain radio silent until everything is cleared up."
I took deep breaths. "Yes. Thank you. I understand."
"I'm sure he will contact you as soon as possible," the man said.
I hung up the phone and continued with the long, deep breaths. My father's job put everything into perspective. He didn't need me bothering him with my problems. Despite the magnitude of the task I was facing, it felt petty compared to his mission.
I felt dizzy, but it wasn't just from hunger. The realization that I really and truly had to face the next steps alone hit me hard. I curled my knees up to my chin and squeezed myself into a tight ball.
"Pep talk," I muttered to myself. "Or lecture."
I tried to think of what my father would tell me and what offhanded lessons my brother would toss in. I heard my brother's voice. Why was I being such a snob?
I wasn't in any position to judge the kind of help people offered me. The cold, hard truth was that I needed any kind of help I could get.
Lightning ripped across the sky, so bright it seemed as if the tent had disappeared around me. Thunder shook the ground, and I heard debris collapse onto the charred foundation. The wind picked up, and then the rain hit. Within seconds, drips were slipping into the tent as the torrential downpour slammed down on me.
I struggled against my own, primordial fear and reached for the tent zipper. I had to get out of there. Even the garage would be safer. I was halfway across the driveway towards the lopsided, old garage when I heard the voice calling.
Another blinding flash of lightning showed me Teddy, heaving himself over the split-rail fence. We both waved each other over then ended up meeting in the middle, just in front of the skeletal house.
"I don't care if you want my help," Teddy yelled above the growling storm. "I'm going to need your help just to get back to the house. Are you coming?"
I hesitated, the stubbornness hardwired into me, and then I saw the grim remains of the fire in the next lightning flash. "Let's go to your place," I said.
Chapter Six
Teddy
I paced around and around the front foyer until my housekeeper checked on me. As Vincent Jeffry raised an eyebrow, I marched down the hall and flung open the double-doors of the ballroom. My footsteps rang across the parquet floors and echoed when I stopped against the tall, French doors. From the cavernous and darkened room, I could catch a glimpse of Kiara's fence in the flashes of lightning.
I was squinting hard into the storm when Vincent Jeffry turned on the half-dozen chandeliers. "What are you doing?"
"I believe the third window gives you the best view of the south yards, sir?" he told me.
"Do you have to call me that?"
"Yes, sir."
I ground my teeth and stalked across the ballroom. "So, you expect everyone to call you by both your names, but I get reduced down to a single syllable word?"
Vincent Jeffry's stoic face did not slip. His lofty eyes glanced out the tall windows towards the Davies’ property. "The storm is getting worse, sir."
I strode past him and back down the front hall. "I know. I'm going out."
"Shall I have them bring around your Land Rover, sir?" Vincent Jeffry skirted around me and opened the front door before I could reach for the handle.
"No," I grumbled. "I have to walk, otherwise I'll never convince her to come back here."
"Very good, sir," he said and shut the front door tightly behind me.
I chuckled at his tone. Between the very few and very polite words, it was clear my housekeeper had come to demand I go out and retrieve Ms. Davies. Three minutes into the walk, the wind was pushing me across the lawn, and the rain was spitting in my face. I kept getting turned around as tree branches fell and the rain slashed at my eyes.
More than once, I had to turn around and use the mansion as my compass point. The Brickman Estate stood as a glowing and defiant beacon against the raging storm. The windows were all blazing, a decision I'm sure my housekeeper made. The large, imposing silhouette stood out against the darkness, and I felt an uneasy twinge whenever I had to look back to its luminance. It was so ostentatious, so sprawling and unnecessary, and I felt a dose of shame that I longed to run back to it as soon as I could.
I felt weak as I turned to peer ahead in the thrashing darkness towards where Kiara's house had once stood. She was alone, huddled in a tent, and I was complaining about a few minutes’ walk. I reached the split-rail fence and scanned for her tent. It was olive green and blended with the wind-tossed leaves and heavy rain. I would never find her.
"Kiara!" I took to yelling as I clung to the split-rail fence and worked my way along the border of her burned-out cottage. "Kiara! Where are you?"
When she appeared in a flash of lightning, my heartbeat stumbled. Kiara looked like some wild fairy conjured from the dark forest, her long hair was loose and tangled with the wind, and she was wearing what looked like a borrowed pair of yoga pants with a soft, pink sweatshirt. Was that a unicorn emblazoned on the front? She wrapped a heavy wool blanket around her before I could look again. I had forgotten she had no clean clothes of her own to wear.
I beckoned her over, sure she would not even think about turning down my invitation now. Instead, Kiara waved me over to her. The waves exploded against the nearby beach, and the salt spray was lost in the midst of the hard-driving rain. I waved more frantically, but Kiara was not getting my message. Finally, I hauled myself over the split-rail fence.
She met me near the creaking remnants of the burned down home. I started to babble as the black clouds swelled and crackled. I was so relieved that Kiara said she would come with me that I was speechless until we'd climbed over the split-rail fence.
At the edge of the clearing, the landscaping opened up to a beautiful stretch of uninterrupted, undulating lawn. Small groves and gardens dotted the stretch, but with the storm low and violent overhead, the distance seemed long and dangerous.
"You really couldn't drive?" Kiara yelled above the storm as we paused at the tree line of sturdy pines.
I laughed, though the wind stole the sound. I had to shout for her to hear me. "I figured you would have made fun of me for that, too. Besides, I had to get around your stubbornness."
"By being more stubborn and adding on foolhardy?"
"No, see, now I'm in trouble, and you have to help me get home. You're too nice to leave me stranded out in this storm." I snaked my arm through hers and held on tight.
We marched boldly, arm-in-arm, out into the first stretch of open lawn. A claw of lightning scratched across the sky so close that we both dropped down to a crouch. The thunder that followed, immediate and shattering, shook the ground underneath us.
I pulled Kiara to her feet and started to rush us towards the blazing windows of the Brickman Estate. We started to run as another wave of rain blurred everything ahead of us. Then, we were plunged into darkness.
I could see the tall and regal silhouette of Vincent Jeffry standing the ballroom window. Then, the chandeliers flickered, and the whole mansion went dark.
Blind panic rose up, but I choked it back. I often wondered if I would have been tougher if I had continued to grow up in the tightly packed and rough neighborhood my mother was from. I cursed my now-dark mansion for making me weaker than the storm.
"Don't worry; there's a generator," I told Kiara.
We stumbled on blindly until it was obvious the glowing lights were not going to return any time soon. Kiara's ancient flashlight barely reached five feet in front of us, and everything looked storm-tossed and unfamiliar.
"Teddy, I think we have to make a decision," Kiara said over the howling storm. "Either we head back and bunker down in my old garage or we fin
d somewhere else to take shelter."
"Somewhere else?" I asked, completely unfamiliar with the corner of the garden we had stumbled upon in the slashing rain. "I swear I've never seen that stone angel in my entire life."
Kiara stood up straighter at my comment. She whipped the beam around and then grabbed my hand. "Come on, rich boy. I know where we can hide out."
We made it to the ivy-covered stone chapel just as the worst of the storm bore down on us. The wind blew so hard that it took both of us to pry the wooden door open. Once inside, the door slammed shut behind us. Another rumble of thunder shook the seashore, but the small chapel was solid. It was made in miniature, with just two, half-sized, hand-carved pews and a round footprint about the diameter of a garden shed. One small, high-arched window was covered in leaded glass and showed only swirls of the raging storm outside.
Kiara moved to the slim pulpit and set down her fading flashlight in order to open a hidden panel cabinet. I watched in awe as she pulled out a beautiful array of candleholders and white, untouched candles.
I followed suit and moved to the small wall altar that held three rows of red glass and votive candles. I lit them all and even said a prayer of thanks to the impressive storm.
Tonight, I was seeing things I felt sure I never would have glimpsed if events had been different.
"How did you know this was here?" I asked once the candles had illuminated the frescoed ceiling.
Kiara wrapped her blanket closer around her and sat on one of the half-sized pews. There was room next to her, but I would have to squeeze in. She shivered, and I took my opportunity.
"Are you cold? Here, take my coat. I'll warm you up," I said, sitting down next to her. My coat was soaking wet, too, but I hoped it was the gesture that would count.
Kiara shifted to give me space and wrapped the blanket tighter. "No, keep your jacket; the wool will actually warm me up faster."
She jutted out her chin, strong and stubborn until another crack of thunder made her flinch. I swallowed a disbelieving laugh and pulled her close to me. Another rumble made her jolt, and I wrapped my arms around her tighter.
"So, you were telling me how you knew this place was here?" I asked.
Kiara nodded, shifting closer to me. "How did you not?"
I sighed. "Exactly. I know you won't believe me, but jet-setting is not as glamorous as people think. Sure, it can be fun, but you lose your grip on the season, the day of the week, and even the time. I've been bouncing around so much that I'm forgetting large swathes of my own property. There has got to be at least thirty rooms in my own house that I have not seen in nearly a decade."
"That's not a house; that's an estate," she joked and jabbed me in the ribs.
I squeezed her tighter. "And, this is a tiny chapel that you knew was hidden in the south gardens."
"Actually," she laughed, "it's a folly. There aren't any crosses, and I'm pretty sure the cherubim up there are getting drunk on wine."
I looked up and laughed. "A folly. Seems like the perfect place for my rescue to end up."
"I think it's perfect." Her voice faded a little as she admitted, "I used to sneak over here and light a candle when my mother was sick. I always thought it was a real chapel until my mother died, and my father explained it was just an extra piece of architecture built as a fun amusement for people strolling the gardens."
She seemed to fold into her tightly wrapped, wool blanket. There she was, all snug in my arms, and yet I could feel her getting further and further away. I wanted Kiara back, the stubborn one that thought nothing of me and told me so.
"I remember why I forgot about this place," I said.
She pulled away so she could study my face with an amused confusion. "You remember why you forgot?"
"Yes. Exactly. I purposefully put this little folly out of my mind because when I was younger, I used to think it was haunted," I said. "I could see it from the corner turret at the end of the hall from my bedroom. When I'd walk upstairs, I would see a light come on in that little chapel window. Like a ghost was there lighting candles."
Kiara's eyebrows jumped up. "A ghost like me?"
"Yeah, turns out you've been haunting me a lot longer than this week."
She stood up and went to study the candles on the small altar. "So, you feel like I'm haunting you? I can see that. I seem to have attracted a lot of bad luck lately."
If I told her that her long, tangled hair haunted me, that her dark, electric eyes haunted me, or that the thought of running my fingers along the silken skin of her arm haunted me, Kiara never would have believed me. Instead, I cleared my throat and said, "I know it's weird, but I've always found the idea of ghosts comforting."
Her tight frown bloomed back into a smile. "That's not weird. I think I understand that perfectly. I always thought ghosts were like interactive memories, something that could help me recreate what I missed."
Far in the distance, we heard the creak and crash of a tree branch falling. The thunder that had been almost constant slowed to a lull. We both heard it and moved to the door.
The rain had stopped, but the clouds still shifted dark and low. The storm was not over, but was just taking a breath before the next rage. It was our best chance.
I linked my fingers with Kiara's as we ran out across the wet grass. We slipped and stumbled, but finally spotted a cluster of candles illuminating the ballroom window.
Vincent Jeffry swung both doors open as we raced up the front steps. He didn't even comment as the rain chased us with thick sheets. The storm exploded again, but he shut the door and ignored it completely.
"I'm sorry to report the generator is broken, sir. I have spoken with our household mechanic already, and it will be fixed by morning," he said. "In the meantime, I have lit the lamps. I hope you find that adequate."
"Thanks, Vincent Jeffry," I cringed. "My housekeeper is very formal; don't mind him," I told Kiara.
She grinned even as she shivered. "I thought you preferred the term 'butler?'" she asked Vincent Jeffry.
I butted in. "Shhh, no, you'll make him even more insufferable if you give him a fancy title! My housekeeper would be happy to prepare a guest suite for you."
"We are always prepared for guests," Vincent Jeffry said with a chest-swell of pride. "Ms. Davies can have her pick."
"Just choose one and make sure it has everything she needs, all right?" I asked. I tried to steer Kiara away from him and down the hallway, not ready to share her with other people yet.
"I don't need a room, much less a suite," she protested. "I'll just wait out the storm and then head back when the worst is over."
Vincent Jeffry ignored us both and bowed. "If there is nothing else, sir, I believe I will go assist the mechanic."
"More like motivate through terror," I muttered. Then, I turned to take Kiara's hand again. It was starting to fit so nicely in my own. "It looks like we're on our own for right now. How about I make you some hot tea?"
She hesitated and watched the rigid form of Vincent Jeffry disappearing through a hidden door to the basement. "I really don't need a room," she muttered.
"Too late. Now, how about that tea? I am definitely adding a shot of whiskey to mine." I tugged her down the hallway and into the kitchen.
Vincent Jeffry, true to his word, had lit all the lanterns that hung on hooks along the upper recesses of the large kitchen. A candelabra hung over the massive kitchen island, and the granite counters sparkled. Kiara's mouth dropped open, but I also felt all the tension melt out of her fingers.
"You like kitchens?" I asked.
"This isn't a kitchen, it's a football stadium," she said with an awestruck smile. "Though, the dark cabinets make it seem cozy."
"A fireplace big enough to roast a pig doesn't hurt, either," I said. I pulled a chair closer to the already stoked fire and pulled Kiara towards it. She sunk into it with a soft sigh.
I managed to fill the kettle with water in the large basin sink and lit the back burner on the massive, eight-bu
rner stovetop without singeing off my eyebrows. After that, I was at a complete loss. I looked in the copper tin marked “Tea” and found nothing but a pile of little leaves. Where was the bag with the string?
In my frantic searching, I found an entire cupboard of dishtowels and tossed a few towards Kiara. She laughed, but started to towel off her hair. It gleamed in the firelight and soon started to curl back into its soft, luxurious waves.
"Need some help?" she asked.
Kiara stood up and peeled off the wool blanket and then wrapped an embroidered towel around her shoulders. The quick flash of her slender curves made me envy that towel. I completely lost the thread of our conversation and stood at the kitchen island, slack-jawed.
"With the tea," she said with a warming blush. "Not everyone knows how to brew loose leaf tea."
She elbowed me out of her way, but I couldn't move. Kiara was a magnet, and I only wanted to get closer. I was still hovering over her shoulder when my stomach growled and ruined any possible moment.
She laughed. "I could make us a couple of omelets. Is that okay?"
"Okay?" I asked. "That sounds like heaven. How can I help?"
Her dark eyes fluttered up to mine and held. "Why don't you get the eggs and milk out of the fridge?"
Her smile stayed as she directed me to find a large mixing bowl and even after she ransacked the refrigerator for fresh herbs, a block of parmesan cheese, and a plate of cold ham. In the pantry, she found a handful of mushrooms and a whole rack of spices that I could not identify.
"Do you like to cook?" I asked.
Her smile widened. "Yes. I love that it is such a necessary task. There's something beautiful in making something we all need feel special. I also love how food brings people together."
I fought the urge to sit down on a kitchen stool and watch her work. I couldn't let her serve me. We were equals, and I wanted to make sure she felt that, so I stayed at her side until she gave me a curious look.
"I never had a chance to learn how to make omelets," I said.
"What can you cook?"
