Dragon's Touch (Book 1 Linty Dragon Series) (9 page)

I sighed, leaned back in the chair and said, “I do wish I’d had more time with Essie, especially since I didn’t have a warm family nest, which may have been different if my mother hadn’t died so early in my childhood. All-in-all, my life hasn’t been bad, just lacking in the warm and fuzzy lifestyle I had hoped for.”

“Your father is a collector of folk lore, were you aware of that?”

I shook my head. “He never talks about what he’s done, or collected, only where he’s been, and how interesting he found it.”

“Taryn has amassed a fortune’s worth of books, objects, and rarities over the years. He also collects items of great worth for others.”

He raised his hand as I opened my mouth. “Before you ask, Essie told me. She said he has a home in Boston that is filled with amazing, rare, and most definitely, illegally gained merchandise that many would kill to get their hands on. I don’t think your Uncle Charles is even aware of what your father owns.”

Surprise and shock mingled when I considered my father, the wanderer extraordinaire, might have had an Indiana Jones persona during my lifetime. “You’re not joking, are you?”

“No, I’m not. Why do you think he didn’t invite you to his home, but asked you to check into a hotel instead?”

“Oh.” I pulled a pillow onto my lap and crushed it while I disconsolately plucked at the fringe. “He said he was having work done in the house and the place was in upheaval. So he lied?”

“I’m afraid so.”

My thoughts scampered over the many years I’d spent in America without knowing my father had even owned a house in Boston. Lordy, I’d lived on the Harvard University campus for four years and never once had I been invited to visit. On the rare occasion we did meet, it was always at a bistro in Cambridge. What was so private that he couldn’t share it with me? Was he indeed the thief that Cullen painted him as?

“What you’re saying is my father is Indiana Jones in real life? Honestly? You expect me to believe that?”

“Ask Taryn when you see him in the morning. Corner him and insist he be honest with you. I have never seen his home or what he has stashed there, but I believe what Essie told me. He’s a thief, an adventurer without conscience, and you’re right, he won’t give a damn about the dragons. He’ll treat them as a he treated you, as something to have, but not care for.”

My head snapped up. I glared at him for rudely pointing out what I already knew, which in turn seemed to make my heart wrench whenever I thought about it. As a kid, I pretty much accepted what I was instructed to do, but as I grew older and became of an age to make my own decisions, I’d been determined to carve out a life that only included Gran. I’d built a career and home base in Scotland so I could be closer to her.

Never once had Gran asked me to move in, come to stay for months on end, or make demands unless there was a way for her to keep me from being with my father. Why? Why would she keep us separated? Did she think his adventuresome lifestyle would rub off on me? That I’d become reckless, like he was? I sighed, tossed the pillow aside, and turned my thoughts back to the dinner.

“There was one quiet conversation before dinner that caught me by surprise. It concerned Essie’s death.  Somebody there was glad Gran had met her maker, saying it paved the way for the dragons to be freed. What does that mean, exactly?”

He contemplated my question and then evaded answering it truthfully. I knew it by his next words. “We’ll wait and see what that means. I’m as uncertain as you are, Linty.” He glanced at his watch, and stood up. “I’ll take a look around the house to make sure you and the dragons are alone. Stay here with them while I do so.”

Unsure I wanted him poking around upstairs, I did as he instructed. While he climbed the stairs, I walked over to Drake and whispered, “Why didn’t you answer me?”

“Safe now, not before. Be mindful of him and untrusting of others.”

I stepped back, saw his claws flex on the stand and waited to see what else he’d say. Nothing. He said nothing. I turned to the other dragons and opened the case with a key from the desk. I moved them back into place and, spoke softly to them as I did so. Not one of them whispered, purred, growled, glowed, or responded the way Drake did. Was he the only one with powers?

Another question with no answer.

As the fifth step groaned, I glanced over my shoulder at Cullen. He applied his full weight again and again on the step and then asked, “Needs fixing, eh?”

I chuckled. “It’s on my to-do list. Once everyone leaves, if they ever will, I’ll fix the tread and that should take care of the noise. On the other hand, if I’m in danger, maybe I should leave the step in disrepair as a way to tell if someone is near.”

The hour had grown late, Cullen left, and I sat in front of the dragons, wondering why everything had suddenly become so problematic. My life was now full of unknowns, bothersome, and surreal. I talked to a dragon who talked back, who promised to work with me to solve what had become a mystery mired with intrigue and fraught with danger. What the hell had I gotten into?

Chapter 7

Sunlight streamed in through the windows and shone on my face as I lay curled up on the sofa where I’d fallen asleep. I heard dishes rattle in the kitchen and was aware it was time to rise and get ready to meet the day. Evidently, it wouldn’t be a day of fun and sun, but a day filled with angst, anger, frustration, and arguments. Of this, I was certain.

I stumbled upstairs, took a shower and dressed for Gran’s funeral. All the while, a sense of dread filled me. Who knew how many hours I’d spend greeting those who would undoubtedly stop by to commiserate with the family, if you could call it that, after the funeral. This type of show was the last thing on my must-haves and want list, but for Gran’s sake, I would do my best to smile and be hospitable.

The first person to arrive was my father. He asked if I’d go with him to the chapel and I agreed. On our way to the valley by way of the road, rather than walking through the forest, it was a brief ride from the estate. We passed Uncle Charles and Aunt Elizabeth as they were about to turn up the drive. Dad stopped and rolled the window down to ask where Charles was going.

“We had wondered if Linty would like to ride with us, but we’ll just follow you, Taryn.”

As if I wanted to ride with any of them, I thought, and nearly said it aloud. I stared out the passenger side window at the countryside bathed in bright sunlight. It was a day Gran would have treasured and I was happy that it hadn’t rained or become foggy. She would be interred in the family plot of the valley below the house, on a sunny day that would make her smile. My heart ached as her loss brought tears. I sniffed, whisked droplets from my cheeks and wiped my nose with a tissue.

“She’d be happy to know you’re here, Linty,” Dad said softly.

“I know. I’d planned to come see her when I returned from Boston. I should never have gone. We didn’t have enough time together, and I’ll always regret it.”

“You shouldn’t feel that way, Mother wanted you to have a good and full life. She knew you’d visit whenever you could and enjoyed those times immensely.”

I took a deep breath and asked, “Why did you never invite me to your Boston home?”

His startled glance told me I was onto something. What it was, I was uncertain, but was determined to know.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested, let alone stay with me. Besides, I’m rarely at the house. You know how busy my life is.”

I was well aware that he was busy to the exclusion of everyone, and everything, that he thought didn’t or shouldn’t, concern him. Good Christmas. I turned my face toward the countryside and smiled over those two words. As a child at boarding school, I was lectured for using Christ’s name in vain, so I began to use Christmas instead.

“Indeed, I do. You’re so busy you couldn’t even be bothered to accompany me on the plane back to Scotland, or to make sure your mother was well, and in good spirits. You’ve been a poor example of a parent, Dad.” There, I’d said what had been on my mind for many years, but had never uttered until now.

“Wait a minute, young lady, I was a damned good parent. Putting you in private schools helped you become knowledgeable enough to create a following of book enthusiasts who would step over one another to have you work on their rare collections of volumes. Your grandmother was proud of what you’ve accomplished, as am I. Don’t put your baggage on my shoulders because you’re feeling the loss of Mother and all she meant to you. I was a dutiful son, just as you were a dutiful granddaughter.”

He really believed that crap. Good grief, I almost choked on his words. The man had more stories than Walt Disney.

“You’re joking, right? You truly think you’re the son of all sons? You and Charles are quite a pair. I can tell you right here and now that Gran was disappointed in both of you. Family-wise, she wanted so much more for all of us than what we have amounted to.”

We’d arrived at the chapel, I slammed the car door when I got out and stomped off. This would likely be the worst day in my twenty-six years. After greeting the Vicar, I went straight to the front pew reserved for family, and sat at the far end. My uncle, aunt, and father took their places beside me. I’d noticed Smythe, Cullen, and a crowd of townsfolk had filled the remaining pews. Gran would have been pleased to see the number of people who had come to memorialize her life.

The Vicar gave a brief, but endearing mass that encapsulated the Dragon family, Gran, and her love of the area. He mentioned things I had no memory of and wondered if Gran had forgotten to tell me of her accomplishments in her own lifetime.

From the chapel, we made our way to the valley cemetery where a grave had been dug and two brawny men waited, hats in hands, shovels at the ready to finish laying Gran to rest. Tears dribbled down my cheeks, I walked alone, untouched by my father, and unaware of those who followed behind. This, the worst part of any death, the most profound ending of one’s life was where most people cried the hardest and mourned deeply. I cried openly as her casket was lowered into the grave, listened to kind words said and the prayers that were given for her life ever after. I tossed dirt into the hole and heard it hit the casket with a completely unnerving sound. Gran was gone, but she’d forever be in my heart. I’d always felt her presence, did so now, and would always.

*    *    *

Many came to imbibe, chat, and commiserate with me over the loss of a Dragon family member. Even though there hadn’t been a death in the family, other than my mother’s, for many a year, I listened with interest and took consolation in the fact that Gran had been a major player in the community, as well as a well-known entity in the dragon arena, meaning the acquisition and keeping of dragons over the years. Could I meet their expectations? I wasn’t able to determine that at the moment and tucked the idea into the farthest reaches of my mind for further consideration. It occurred to me that the villagers were aware of the dragon keeping tradition in our family, but I wondered if they knew more than that.

The crowd dwindled. Those who lingered on the patio came indoors when the wind picked up and clouds hovered overhead to offer a sprinkle. I grinned when the skies opened and rain started pouring, nearly soaking Cullen and Smythe, who’d been arguing outside just before the deluge. Guess it was more than a sprinkle. I chuckled. I figured it was the only humorous thing to happen today and then was herded, along with Mrs. Douglas, by a man named Evan Cairn, who had formerly been in charge of the grounds prior to Gran’s paranoia onset. Cairn, a huge brute of a man, sported long curly auburn hair that hung down his back, reminding me of a hippy. I knew, however, that he was in fact, a Highlander who followed the age-old tradition of long tresses.

After the remaining guests had left, we assembled in Gran’s library. At the back of the room, Cullen leaned against the wall trying to look as though he wasn’t uncomfortable in damp clothes. Uncle Charles and Aunt Elizabeth took the two leather chairs front and center before the desk, and my father and I took a chair on either side of them. Apparently, Mrs. Douglas had had the forethought to arrange the furniture, since I certainly wasn’t of a mind to have done so. She and the former groundskeeper sat next to one another, within breathing distance of the four of us.

Smythe, damp and uncomfortable as Cullen, opened the envelope containing the will and handed me a letter that was also inside. “This is for you, Linty. Your grandmother wrote it especially for you and you alone. Read it later.”

My father and the other two family members gave me a questioning look. Uncle Charles harrumphed, which earned him a stern stare from Smythe. This was not going to be fun, but it would surely be interesting.

Smythe read the bequeathed sum for Mrs. Douglas, and Gran’s wish that she remain on in her capacity as housekeeper. Then came the amount of money for the groundskeeper. I was astonished at the huge sum Gran had allotted him and knew then and there that she must have realized her paranoia was just that. She’d decided against leaving the man a mere pittance despite having banned him from the property before she died. He received the news well, even though Uncle Charles, this time joined by my aunt, snorted at the sum and Gran’s wish that the man return as groundskeeper. Since I had no problem with her decision, I merely waited for the next issue to come forth. The wait was brief as Smythe centered his attention on me and read the remainder of the will. I held my breath as he spoke, even though he’d already told me I’d gotten it all, lock, stock, and barrel. Generous amounts of money had been added to Dad and my uncle’s trust funds. Other than that, they got nothing. Gran stated she was certain I would make a wonderful dragon keeper and that I was bound to live on the estate, where I could operate my own restoration business without any problem at all. She had taken care of transfer of ownership, and I wasn’t to worry about a single thing.

My father, stiff and cold in his chair, gave me not one glance, not even a nod when Smythe read that I had been allotted the estate and all it entailed. Uncle Charles and Aunt Elizabeth had blustered when Smythe issued the final blow that I was in charge of every speck of Dragon Hill as well as the dragons. My life had turned a dark shade of gray and was quickly on its way to complete black. I felt it, knew in every cell of my body, there was no hope of having a family life with these three. I wasn’t sure I trusted Smythe or Cullen, either. I had a feeling both men had their own agendas, and clearly, they would make them known sooner than later.