by Midge Cline
****
Seriah sat on the low stone bench at the ponds edge, watching the birds swoop over the glistening surface.
“They are graceful, aren’t they?” Dexter’s deep voice said from behind her. She did not even turn around as she nodded. He took a seat beside her and wordlessly handed her a bottle of water, which she took gratefully, but silently.
They sat this way for a few long moments, watching the birds, each lost in their own thoughts before Dexter spoke at last.
“Pippa seems to be doing better,” He said. “When we talked this morning, she was nearly ready to bolt for the sunrise. But she seems to be better now, she has calmed quite a bit.”
“Good. I am sure it was a scary experience for such a young girl.” She said coldly.
“I am happy you came, Binne loves to see you.” Dexter said softly, never taking his eyes off the water. “She has missed you.”
“I missed her too. She has grown these last few months.” Seriah responded in a weak voice. He had always had this effect on her, either made her so angry she could spit, or so weak he could mold her with his hands. Seriah tried not to think of his hands.
“I miss you.” He said matter of factly. “I miss us.”
“Dex, don’t.” her voice half warning, half pleading. “I do not have the energy to fight with you right now.”
“Then don’t fight.” He whispered. “Just know that I love you, as much today as the day we were married. Being separated has not changed that. And don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t feel the same, because I know you do.”
She turned to face him, her large brown eyes moist with the tears she was blinking back.
“I have never said I did not love you. Love was never the issue.” She said softly.
“Okay, but what you think is an issue, really is just a bridge to cross. It does not have to be a wall.” Dexter said firmly.
“Dex.” Seriah protested.
“I want my wife back. But I agreed to be patient, and I will continue to be patient. But you cannot expect me to just quit trying, or to give up. I will never do either.” He picked up her hand, left a small kiss on her palm before he walked back toward the house.
****
Seriah joined Bonnie and Gwynn in the sitting room, where they sat before the fire, floor plans of the kitchen spread before them on the wide coffee table.
“Hello dears,” She greeted as she entered. “Whatever are you doing?
“We are planning Bonnie’s cafe.” Gwynn smiled.
“Oh good! I am so glad you are moving forward with that! Do you need to borrow my Algernon?” She offered.
“I cannot afford Algernon!” Gwynn laughed.
“What is an Algernon?” Bonnie asked.
“An Algernon,” Seriah explained, “is an interior designer extraordinaire. He will design you an efficient space that will draw crowds in droves. And he would be at my expense.”
“Seriah, you cannot pay for all that! Algernon will cost nearly as much as the design itself.” Gwynn protested.
“I will make it a donation, as a museum benefactor I will be able to write it off. And I am always looking for write-offs.” Seriah laughed. “In fact, I can put it under the estate, which will help the taxes for that monstrosity. So, you, by allowing me to hire Algernon, at a highly discounted rate, will be doing me a favor.”
“Seriah,” Gwynn began, then tossed her hands in the air, knowing that arguing was futile.
“What kind of designs do you think he will want to do?” Bonnie asked.
“He will do whatever you want, but he will do it with style and grace.” Seriah assured her. “He will take your vision, your dream and turn it into a reality. There is truly no one better.”
“Let me talk to Nigel, he is not a great fan of Al. He may have to arrange not to be on site.” Gwynn said.
“Why does Nigel not like him?” Bonnie asked.
“They had a disagreement a long time ago, some silliness about Al making a pass at Nigel, and Nigel not being exactly, um, receptive.” Seriah laughed.
****
Bonnie hummed softly to herself as she made morning coffee for herself and her husband. Hot, soft sweet rolls sat on a plate in the center of the table. Tate came up behind her as she worked and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder.
“I am crazy in love with you, you know that don’t you?” He whispered into her ear while nibbling on it gently.
“I have had my suspicions.” Bonnie laughed as she pressed her back into the warmth and strength of her husband’s chest.
“Eww, you two. Seriously eww.” Colt said as he entered the kitchen. “Can’t you wait ‘til I move out to do that?’
“If it wasn’t for this behavior, you would not be here today, young man.” His father assured him as he released his wife and took a seat at the round kitchen table. “You will need to make some deliveries this afternoon, take the old blue truck. The Demsey’s ordered lumber, there are some bound 4x4’s for them in the yard. There is a load of firewood already loaded into the red truck, deliver that to the Corbin farm. Then meet me back at the Hall.” He told his son.
“Both will go faster if I have some help. Is it alright If I grab Malcolm and maybe Binne to help unload?” Colt asked as he picked up a sweet roll.
“I think that is a great idea, Binne could use some time away from the Hall.” Bonnie said with encouragement, “I am sure her parents would agree.”
“Fine with me.” Tate said. “Just see that the work gets done. I will be up at the Hall today, have to get the work crew started on the tower. Logan Jackson is a good man, but I don’t trust all of his men.”
“You don’t trust them with the work?” Bonnie asked.
“The work is fine, there are just a few of them I do not trust, for personal reasons.” Tate glanced out the window, a sure sign that he did not wish to speak any further on the subject.
****
Logan Jackson and his crew arrived at the Hall at ten minutes to eight. Three identical trucks pulled into the drive, 7 men including Logan emerged from the cabs.
“Let me introduce my men, Mr. Morgan.” Logan said as he neared Tate and Nigel coming out the Hall’s front doors. He pointed to each man as he said their names. “This is Oliver Carter, my right hand, he will be in charge when I am not on site.” Oliver Carter was an average sized man, with strong arms and a dark tan that can only be had by working in the sunlight. He wore a pair of denim trousers with multiple pockets and loops along the legs for holding various tools. A black t-shirt sat taut against his well-muscled chest.
“This is Dom Evans, Abel Wasserman, Silas Bryson, Alex McHenry and Bob Wyatt.” Each man varied in description but not in dress, each wearing the denim and black t-shirts. Except for Bob Wyatt, who had added a pair of black elastic suspenders, to keep his trousers up over the enormous gut he sported.
“Men.” Nigel nodded to the group. Not missing the glare shared between Tate and the man named Bob. “The tower is unlocked, come see me when you are done for the day and I will come lock it back up, I don’t want to take the chance that someone gets in there and gets hurt.”
“You can count on Ollie to check in and out with you each day.” Logan advised.
“Good, I’ll leave you to get started, see Tate here if you have any questions.” Nigel said as he walked away to answer his ringing cell phone.
Tate Brooks smiled at each man in turn as they passed him on their way to the tower, his smile faded as soon as they had all gone.
****
“I am sorry Malcolm couldn’t come help you. You are stuck with just me.” Binne said as Colt maneuvered the old beat up work truck along the rutted dirt road.
“I am okay with that.” Colt said with a smile. “At least I know you will help without all the whining Malcolm is known for.”
“Malcolm is a good guy, a bit shy is all.” Binne defended. “He has a serious thing for Harry, you know.”
“Except f
or when he decides he likes Millie better.” Colt laughed. “I swear it changes nearly weekly.”
They laughed and talked as they worked through the morning, once the lumber had been unloaded and stacked neatly, and the invoice signed, they climbed back into the truck.
“I think we should stop and eat before we pick up the other truck and deliver the firewood.” Colt said, wiping the sweat of his brow with a dark blue kerchief.
“I would kill for a good pastrami sandwich.” Binne sighed as she sunk her sore muscles into the truck seat. “And some salty crisps.”
“And a nice cold cola, in a large glass.” He agreed.
“With ice.” she said sleepily.
Colt drove them to Chip’s pub and they took seats in the shade on the patio overlooking the small brook which trickled through the trees.
“Fish and chips, for young mister Brooks, and one pastrami and bacon on rye, with extra mayo and peppers.” Chip said as he set the food before them. “My mum just called, said you two did an exceptional job unloading and stacking that lumber out at her place, said you even took her trash to the bin for her and grabbed her post from her box down the road. I appreciate you both, your lunches are on me.”
“That lovely lady is your mum?” Binne said with surprise. “How wonderful for you. She seems like an absolute joy.”
“I’ll bring you out a dessert on the house as well.” Chip’s smile was genuine and broad as he happily scurried back off to his kitchen.
“That was a first. I've never, ever, known Chip to give up free food. I told you she liked you.” Colt told her, “I am sure that at least part of it was how you fawned over those ugly dogs of hers.”
“Ugly? Those beautiful Irish wolfhounds, they are not ugly, they are magnificent.” Binne argued with a mouthful of food. “Such a great breed of canine, loyal, strong and hard working. A more perfect farm dog has never been bred.”
“You are a strange one Binne Morgan, probably why we get along so well.” He laughed.
“We do, don’t we.” Binne agreed.
They finished their meals, and dessert, then thanked Chip for his generosity and the wonderful meal.
Hours later, they pulled up to the Hall, dirty, overheated and exhausted. Binne felt a shiver run down her spine.
“What is the matter?” Colt asked her, concern on his young face.
“I don’t know, I feel as if I am being watched.” She answered, her eyes automatically scanning her surroundings for danger, finding only a crew of men hauling debris from the tower and loading into the back of a large dump truck. “I guess, I am just being silly, ghost house jeepers or something.”
****
Pippa pulled and tugged at the heavy equipment tote in the back of Dexter’s vehicle. The tote did not budge, she pulled harder, putting all her weight behind the move, her hand slipped, and the momentum caused her to fall backwards with great force, into a pile of damp dirt.
A well-tanned hand suddenly appeared in front of her, an offer of help from the ground, which she ignored as she stood on her own. Rising, she found a tall, handsome man in his mid-twenties, brown hair framed his handsome face. The scent of sweat and dirt assaulted her nostrils.
“Where would you like me to take this?” His deep voice pulled her attention to his lips, and then to his deep brown eyes. He had grabbed the heavy tote as if it weighed no more than a sack of grain.
“Oh, um, you can put it in the library.” She stammered slightly as she grabbed a large duffle and led the way. Fighting the urge to wipe the dirt from her backside as they walked through the Hall. He gently placed the oversized tote on the floor where she indicated and turned to her with a smile.
“Anything else I can do?” He asked politely, his smile warm and bright.
“No, that will do.” Pippa answered coldly, as if she were addressing a hotel bellhop, surprised when he thrust his hand out at her.
“Alex McHenry,” He introduced himself. “I’ll be around for a while, let me know if you need anything else.” She reluctantly shook the extended hand.
“Uh- yes, Pippa Atkins. I’ll let you know, I am sure you are very busy clearing that mess out there.” She pointed toward the front door, hoping he would take the hint and leave so she could clean the mud and dirt off her clothing.
“It sure is a mess, but we will have it sorted soon enough, then we will start the rebuild.” He told her casually as he made his way out of the house.
Pippa worked feverishly to get the equipment unpacked and set up, Dexter joined her an hour later to find her adjusting dials and knobs on a large console.
“Wow, I am impressed, how did you get all of this in here?” He asked.
“One of the crew outside carried the large tote for me.” she said nonchalantly as she worked. “The cameras are set up here, so are the computers. We still need to set up the cameras and recorders throughout the house.” She informed him. “I am still not certain where you want them all.”
“I think the hallway upstairs, as it seems to be rather active, as well as each of the main rooms down here. EVP recorders can be placed in the same places, and Binne has agreed to an EVP recorder in her bedroom as well.”
“What about Mr. and Mrs. Morgan's bedroom? Or Dr. Browning’s?” Pippa scribbled on her clipboard and moved onto another monitor.
“I don’t think we need a recording device in the bedroom of a married couple, nor in the bedroom of my wife.” He said calmly.
“Your ex-wife.” Pippa corrected without thinking, only to find Dexter’s angry face inches from hers.
“I have never signed a divorce paper, not once, and until I do, she is still my wife, and you will treat her with the respect that accords. Understood?” Dexter’s teeth clenched together as he forced the words out.
“Yes, Professor.” Pippa swallowed hard and looked down at her clipboard with moist eyes. She was not accustomed to the sharp and hurtful tone of voice that Dexter had used with her.
****
“Your Godmother is just about the coolest person I have ever met.” Colt told Binne as they sat on the stone bench in the center of the village square. “I mean she got us ice cream and she bought you a ton of stuff at the art shop, Mr. Bilson has never been so ass-kissy before in his life.”
“She has that effect on people. I used to think it was her Duchess title, but then I realized it is just her. People love to make her smile, so they fawn over her. And since she loves the attention, she tosses business at them. She was not kidding, by the way, she really will bully all her artist friends to come buy supplies at his store. And they will do it, not caring that they must drive three hours out of their way to get here, just to help support another one of her campaigns to buy from local villages, instead of big corporations.” Binne told him while she played with a stone in the dirt with the toe of her trainer.
“Buying local is the only way, if people didn’t buy or hire local my family would be living in a tent in the woods.” Colt reminded her.
“Yeah, she will only hire local too, her entire estate is staffed by the local villagers, from lawn care to tour guides and housekeepers. Even her driver, though she has a license and can drive herself, when she is at home she uses a driver, just so he can support his family. She says if everyone did it, there would be no economic issues in Ireland.” Binne watched her Godmother as she laughed and smiled her way through the market stands. Buying something, large or small, from each one. Occasionally she would wave a hand at Colt, who would run over and gather her collection of shopping bags and stack them back at Binne’s feet. Books, bolts of hand-woven cloth, hand-stitched curtains, hand-tatted lace, locally carved wood and stone statues, fresh grown fruits, and warm baked breads filled the bags.
“She has become a local hero in a day, to every shopkeeper in the village.” Colt laughed. “But, you might want to stop her before she gets to that next one, it is the real estate office, they will sell her some land if she isn’t careful.”
“No worries, if Aunti
e wants to buy in the area she will, the agent will not talk her into anything she does not want. I am more worried about her stopping at the church, they would have a new roof contracted in a matter of minutes if she saw the state of the one it has now.” Binne laughed.
“We bid on that roof,” Colt told her, “But the church just does not have the funds anytime soon, Dad gave them a huge price break too. Much lower than Logan’s and any other local companies, but they really just cannot afford more than patches right now.”
“Do not mention that to Auntie!” Binne slapped at his arm, making him laugh. She found she liked the sound of his laugh, and she liked the easy way they talked with each other. Who knew she would find her best friend so easily and so quickly, with a move to the Irish countryside. Binne felt truly at home for the first time she could ever remember.
****
“Nigel, huni, do you know where the red folder is that was on my desk? I cannot seem to remember where I put it.” Gwynn asked as she entered the bedroom she shared with her husband.
“Nope, but if you hum a few bars-” he laughed as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto the small loveseat with him.
“Funny,” She laughed and placed a quick kiss on his lips. “Oh! There it is!” She leaped up before he could stop her and grabbed the folder off the bureau where she had left it hours before. Opening it she scanned the pages until she came to the one she was looking for. “This is the report that the home office faxed over on the bones. Seriah was right, of course, they are no less than 600 years and it looks like COD was a bash to the skull. But the part that gets me,” she sat beside him to show him the report, “is the fractured pelvic bones. Seriah said this was a rather small girl, about 14 years old, which is consistent with Mary Katherine Douglas, and that the fractures, which never began the healing process, could indicate a forced sexual encounter at or just before the time of death.”
