Brush of Shade (13 page)

At the gas
station, that father and his sons had shown up just to see me. Folks had bought
me stuff like I was a celebrity. “So I’m just a figurehead,” I said, giving a
sigh of relief.

 
“Not exactly.
Let’s just say as warden you keep the calm.”

“Oh?” I had a
feeling his phrasing meant something that he wasn’t allowed to discuss, and it
was tied to my father’s visits. I added that to the list of growing questions
for my aunt.

 “Keep
telling yourself that it’s no big deal,” he said as he leaned across me and
opened my door, letting the cold air in.

“Right.
No big deal that I woke up and found myself in Oz.”

“I’d go with
alternate reality. It has a cooler ring to it. It’s your call. Stay or go?”

“I’ll try one
store. I won’t promise more. I won’t promise that I won’t have a total mental
breakdown if someone looks at me wrong.”

“It’s the same
folks that have been here since you arrived,” a deep, soothing voice said from
my open door.

“Get lost,
Shade. I’m handling this,” Trent said, his lips pulling down into a scowl.

“Honestly,
Cassidy, couldn’t you give her time to adjust?”

“Right, like
hanging out in her room all freaked out was healthy. Give me some credit. What
could be more ordinary than holiday shopping?”

“You’ve been
sitting out here for almost twenty minutes. Maybe she’s not ready.”

“Are you spying
on us? Forget it; you had your shot. It was a bust.”

“This isn’t a
competition. Olivia’s had quite the shock.”

“Thanks to your
brother,” Trent retorted.

“That was unfortunate.”

“I’m sure that’s
how your new warden sees it. Olivia was doing just fine until you showed up.
Now she’s shaking.”

“Olivia, if—”

“Don’t you have
somewhere to be?” Trent said, cutting Shade off.

“Actually, I
just got off of work,” Shade replied, leaning casually against the frame of the
open passenger door as though he had all the time in the world. “Hattie says,
‘hi’ and to stop in. She’s got a present for you, Olivia.”

“For me?”
I said, not quite able to make myself turn and
look at him fully. It was bad enough that my mouth had gone dry. Now all I
could think about was what Trent had said about their eyes revealing their
emotions.

He held up a
rectangular box. “I figured the one with the purple bow was yours, so I took
the green one.”

That would make
it easier. I promised one shop. Surely I could handle Hattie? I risked tilting
my head up just a little. Dressed in an unzipped jean jacket over top of a blue
plaid, flannel shirt that brought out his eyes, Shade looked unprepared for the
white flakes sticking to his collar. I remembered toasty heat keeping me warm
in a blizzard and lowered my gaze.

“I could pop
in,” I replied. At least I sounded like I was taking all of this in stride.
Knowing Shade, he probably saw right through me.

“I’ve got some shopping
to do myself. If it gets to be too much, give me a holler. I’ll be glad to take
you home.”

Trent
intertwined his fingers with mine “Get lost, Shade. She doesn’t need a
babysitter.”

“I don’t know
about that. She’s stuck with you, isn’t she?” Shade chuckled.

I shrunk against
the seat, staring at Shade’s retreating back, feeling exposed. Talk about a
prime moment for a breakdown. But I’d done more than hold it together. Nothing
about his expression had felt threatening or foreign. He was just Shade. Was
that a healthy, normal reaction, I wondered, as Trent helped me out of the tall
truck or just a case of serious denial?

 Hattie’s
eclectic shop was across the street. I tried to angle us that way, but Trent
took my elbow and steered us through the doors of the Emporium. The spicy aroma
of ground coffee hung in the air. Crystal plates filled with samples of fudge,
peppermint bark drizzled with chocolate, and white mounds of creamy divinity
were set out on the counter. My mouth watered, reminding me of how little I’d
eaten today. Even so, I pulled back on his arm.

“Errand boy,
remember?” He prodded me towards the sitting area. “I owe you hot chocolate.”

“Are people
looking at me?”

“No, star
football player here, remember? I won the regional title single-handed.”

“The paper
mentioned something about the rest of the team being on the field.”

“My mother
taught me to share.” He grinned. “I had to give them the ball once or twice.”

“I’d rather sit
in the back,” I said when we stopped next to the booth by the door.

“Fine, you pick
a spot while I get our drinks.”

“You’re leaving
me!”

“I’ve got to
place our order.” He patted my hand that was locked to his arm. “Ordinary day,
remember. Hum a holiday tune.”

Like a prairie
dog ready to pop into its
hole
or in my case under
the table at the first sign of anything weird, I kept scanning the patrons
browsing amongst the shelves. Once or twice I caught a curious glance. Usually
the eyes slid quickly to the side, but in the case of an older lady, her sneer
pressed me against the cushions of the booth, holding me immobile until she
stepped outside. Three middle-aged gentlemen joined her at the window, pressing
their tense, unwelcoming faces to the glass. Their glares executed like mental
blows, leaving my ego bruised and shaken. I rubbed my arms and turned away,
searching for Trent.
Beloved?
Yeah, right! I regretted
not inviting Shade along. There were serious undercurrents in this community,
and my father had left me smack dab in the middle of them.

An hour later,
at a sedate pace for Trent, the truck turned off the main road and onto a steep
gravel drive cutting through the middle of a stand of snow-covered pines. Here
on this isolated stretch, far from curious faces, my string-tight muscles
loosened as thoughts of the latest round of life upending changes sloughed
away, falling much like the snow from overburdened boughs with a splat, waiting
to be handled later.

While Trent
kneaded his knuckles across my shoulders, I fiddled with the radio, flipping
past stations broadcasting holiday songs. The glare from the sun shining on
smooth stone caught my eye. I did a double take. “This is where you live?” I
asked, sitting forward to get a better view of the structure still partially
hidden by the forest. Massive white blocks of marble had been precisely
sculpted to transform the cliff into a medieval castle with two turrets. A
knee-high, stone wall bordered the gravel drive as it rose through a series of
tight turns.

“What, not too ostentatious for these parts?”

“You got to grow
up in a castle. How cool is that?”

“It can be a bit
cold.”

Something odd
about his tone caught my attention. I wasn’t sure if I should pry, so I kept my
response light. “What I wouldn’t have given to live here during my princess
stage.”

He rolled his
eyes and shook his head. “Knights and dragons are way cooler.”

“No drawbridge?”
I asked when I climbed out of the car in front of a pair of arched wooden doors
at least twelve feet high.

“No dungeon
either, sorry to disappoint. But I used to pretend the pool was the moat,” he
said, holding open one of the massive doors. As I stepped past, he kissed my
cheek. “Now that I’m all grown up, the idea of a damsel in the tower holds
quite the appeal.”

I noticed the
warmth of my cheeks at the same time a willowy, raven-haired woman glided down
the staircase. Two and two came together and I made the connection. Trent’s
mother had been at the wake helping Aunt Claire organize my new life while I’d
stood there shell shocked. Compared to her elegant sophistication in her cream,
cowl-neck sweater and calf-length, pleated-black skirt with a discreet side
slit, I looked like the village castoff in my hoodie and ragged-bottomed,
skinny jeans. I ran my fingers through my hair, thankful that I’d at least put
on eye shadow and lip gloss. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Cassidy.”

“Olivia, dear,
do accept my apology for not stopping by. It’s been one thing or another. Let’s
dispense with the formalities and take our refreshments in the family quarters.
Trent’s father just got home. Perhaps he can spare us a few minutes,” Trent’s
mother said, pressing her cool hand to mine.

Family quarters?
I turned in a slow circle, taking in the
foyer the size of the manor’s dining room. Overhead, clerestory windows flooded
balconies off the second and third floors with light from the early evening
sun. Suspended by cables from exposed wooden beams, a wagon-wheel chandelier
illuminated matching suits of armor standing alongside each massive entryway
door. I took and involuntary half step backwards. The Cassidy Coat of Arms and
a pair of crossed swords were prominently displayed on the wall above the
entrance.

The glint of the
sun off metallic embroidery thread and multi-faceted beads drew my attention to
a tapestry hanging above a narrow foyer table near the foot of the stairs. The
rapping of my crutch against the marble floor seemed overly loud as I treaded
closer to the wall with Mrs. Cassidy following only a step behind. I braced a
hand on the table. Someone had painstakingly recreated the relief work
displayed in the clan room. Here, beneath the sun’s illumination, the tale came
alive.
Too alive.
I sucked in air, breathing through
the irrational urge to drag the tapestry off its hooks before I was exposed as
the frayed thread. When I finished my open-mouth survey of the foyer, I
realized Mrs. Cassidy was staring at me with an amused expression. I was at a
loss for words. You have a lovely home so didn’t apply in this situation.

“Mark’s ancestor
had no sense of the practical requirements of living. The fool man just had to
have his castle.” Mrs. Cassidy shook her head at her son. “Now that Olivia’s
had the grand show, next time take her around to the family entrance. The
smooth marble floor down here is too slick for her crutch.”

She led the way
deeper into the structure, past rooms adorned with lavish period pieces that
I’d seen in museums in England. Surely they weren’t originals? I shot Trent a
curious look. “This ancestor of yours wouldn’t happen to have been rich and
titled, would he?”

 “In the
old world, my ancestor was a minor lord who chose to risk his fortunes and the
Cassidy future in the crossing of the clans. While not quite as elevated as
your ancestors, we’re still quite proud.”

“These people
who work here . . .” I paused and glanced to the side unnerved by the pointed
stares of the staff hanging evergreen swags over the doorways. Lowering my
voice, I continued, “Are they part of the Ireland Clan?”

“Most are from
the Cassidy Clan. It’s no big deal. We don’t discriminate.”

“I don’t mean to
sound like I’m judging. It’s just me trying to sort this all out,” I said under
my breath so no one but Trent would hear.

“Ask away.”

Off to our left,
a stone archway opened into a solarium. Through the long bank of windows, I glimpsed
terraced gardens that dwarfed our back yard. “By the looks of things, the
crossing turned out to be profitable for your family. What about the clan
folks’ wealth?”

“I suppose on
the surface, it looks bad. I’m not denying that we’ve done very well; nor am I
ashamed of it. You’ve got to understand, the Whisperers have different
priorities. It’s cool though. We’ve learned to co-exist for everyone’s mutual
benefit.”

Still, the
ostentatious mansion was clearly on a level way beyond anything else I’d seen
in the valley and quite possibly the state. Perhaps I was just being overly
sensitive. After all, the Whisperers weren’t just servants and ranch hands.
Shade had graduated from college. Although he’d come back to the valley to what
opportunities? Is this all they had? If so, were they really as happy as Trent
implied? Those weighty topics were for wiser heads than mine. I was just a high
school senior after all. Then I recalled the hard, hate-filled eyes that had
dissected me while I waited for hot chocolate. I shivered.

A traditional
western motif emerged as we moved away from the formal rooms. Trent pointed out
each generation’s attempt to modernize, ending with his grandfather directing
the construction of a contemporary wing that overlooked the rear of the
property.

“Dear, look who
stopped by for a visit,” Trent’s mother said upon entering a vaulted room with
exposed wooden beams running the length of the room.

The gentleman,
seated in the leather recliner beside the stone fireplace, neatly folded his paper
before setting it on the end table. “I haven’t time for your ladies group. I’ve
phone calls I should return,” he replied, speaking over his wife’s soft-spoken
introduction. He pushed out of the chair, spied me, and exclaimed, “Never mind.
The phone calls can wait on Olivia Pepperdine.”

The family
resemblance was unmistakable. Both Trent and his father had the same
hazel-brown eyes and russet hair. Both had the heavy set physique of a football
player, although in Trent’s dad’s case, he’d gained a slight paunch about his
middle that wasn’t quite hidden by his expensive
Aran
sweater. His expression turned speculative as I hobbled across the oak floor.
When I reached his side, he thrust out his thick-fingered hand. 

 “Trent’s
been talking about bringing you by for a visit. I had no idea when my wife left
a message at the office to let me know that company was stopping by, that she
meant you,” Mr. Cassidy said, shaking my hand with a great deal of vigor.

So that’s what
had taken Trent so long to get our hot chocolate. He’d been on the phone to his
mother. I stole a glance at Trent. He chose that moment to bend over to tie his
shoe.

 
“Mark, not so hard.
Olivia isn’t one of Trent’s football
buddies,” Mrs. Cassidy scolded.

“Sorry, my dear.
You’re a slight little thing aren’t you?
Hopefully our fresh-mountain air will stir up an appetite.”

 “Mark,
honestly,” Mrs. Cassidy said, giving him an exasperated look as she touched the
intercom on the wall. “Helena, you may serve the refreshments.”

“So, Olivia, I
heard you had an upsetting time of it this morning,” Mr. Cassidy said, shaking
his head. “Ethan always did go his own way. I warned him not to wait too long.
Things are easier to accept when you’re still young and naïve. Now, don’t be
shy; we’re old family friends. I’m sure you’ve got questions.”

Is this why
Trent had brought me here? Like this day hadn’t been hard enough. It was bad
enough that his father was aware of this morning’s events and my frightened
response. Now I was expected to sit here and discuss it with strangers.

“That is very
gracious of you, but I should speak with my aunt first,” I answered.

“Spoken like a
diplomat’s daughter. Ethan would’ve been proud. We’re going to get along just
fine.”

Oh sure, keep
throwing my father’s name around so I felt obligated to stay. I bit my lower
lip as I sank onto the edge of a chintz chair with my back to the French doors
that overlooked a small, sunny terrace. With luck my face would be in shadow
and hard to read.

“Good, Helena,
you’re here. Put the tray down,” Mr. Cassidy said to a youthful looking woman
who I judged to be in her early thirties. “Shadow’s reprehensible display this
morning frightened Olivia. For Ethan’s sake, we must help her understand.
Vibrate one of your hands.”

I scooted back
in my seat my mouth too dry to protest.

“The poor thing
looks terrified. Maybe you should wait.” Mrs. Cassidy suggested.

“She can’t be
coddled. Trent, stand next to Olivia’s chair,” Mr. Cassidy ordered.

I leaned into
Trent, my wide eyes fixed on Helena’s hand. It shook slowly at first as if she
had a slight tick. Then abruptly, the speed of her hand grew at an exponential
rate. Fixed shape became a blur that became a streak of color against the crème
area rug.

“Let Olivia
touch your hand,” Mr. Cassidy suggested.

I drew a quick
breath. Smoke pervaded my mouth and lungs from the logs sputtering in the
hearth. My eyes burned. Something came at me out of the dark. I wanted to slap
it aside, but I couldn’t move.

“Are you okay?”
Trent asked worriedly.

“What?” I
replied, in a quivering voice. Helena’s blurred hand hovered in front of my
face. I’d come part way off the chair. “I’m . . . fine.” I would be if random
memories would stop trying to meld into something out of a horror film. The
blurred shape had just been a memory of a rescue worker trying to free me from
the wreckage. Hold it together.

When I sat back
down, Trent slipped an arm around my shoulder and gave me a quick squeeze.
Helena reached out her hand to him. He touched it like it was something he’d
done many times over the years. “It kind of tickles,” he said. Her hand slowed,
and she smiled shyly at me.

Dad had taught
me to be open-minded, but this was so unfair. Everyone expected me to suspend
my concept of reality. Still, I owed it to my dad to try. I lifted my arm and
slowly uncurled my fist. When Helena stretched out her hand, I cringed and
pressed harder against Trent, but I kept my arm out.

“Wow!” I said of
the pleasantly warm, massaging sensation.

Trent gave me
thumbs up even though my knees still knocked. “See no big deal.”

Mr. Cassidy’s
calculating gaze returned mine briefly. A cold chill slipped down my spine,
instantly dispersing the warmth from Helena’s hand. I pulled away at the same
time that Helena stepped back, so thankfully she didn’t realize that I was
upset and assumed it directed at her.

“Excellent, Olivia!”
Mr. Cassidy praised. “Now let’s try a
light connection.”

“A what?”
My eyes darted from Mr. Cassidy to Helena. “My
aunt’s expecting me.” I could’ve sworn Helena looked relieved.

“You can’t go,”
Mr. Cassidy said, coming to his feet. He cleared his throat. When he spoke
again, his voice was gentler. “What I meant is
,
you’re
afraid for no reason. Do you see Trent quivering? Show some of that Pepperdine
backbone.”

Trent leaned
over to look at me. “Maybe we should wait until another day.” When his father’s
nostrils flared and he leveled an irritated look upon his son, Trent backed
down. “My dad is right. It’s nothing to get worked up over.”

Mr. Cassidy gave
Helena a stern look. “Initiate a joining.”

“The young
mistress wishes to leave,” she replied.

“You would
disobey your clan elder?” he said, taking a step closer.

Her shoulders
curled and her chin dropped. Had I just jeopardized Helena’s job because she’d
taken pity on me? I shoved past Trent’s hands and stumbled to her side.
Narrowed eyes turned upon me. I gulped, unnerved by Mr. Cassidy’s intimidating
stature. Somehow I found my voice and said, “It’s late, Aunt Claire will be worried.”

He blocked my
way. “I knew underneath that pale, battered exterior you had some spunk. You’ve
an inherited obligation that must be addressed. Your dear aunt never had the
constitution to take on the Pepperdine legacy, but I see that you might. I only
hesitate in my assessment because you’ve been shattered. I won’t have you leave
here thinking we were hard and uncaring, my dear Olivia. These are trying days
for the valley. As an elder, I’m merely reacting to my deep concern for the
future of the clans. My people . . . I mean your people, are afraid. Please
take a seat. Allow me the opportunity to address some of our peoples’
questions.”