ShadowsintheMist (10 page)

“Do try to get plenty of rest,” he said with concern. “If you
need anything to help—a mild sleeping tablet or something—please let me know.”

I thanked him, bade him farewell and headed for home.

I passed Martha’s little pink car, honked and waved. It must
be nearly three. I wondered idly if Martha and Giles would ever tie the knot.
They seemed so suited to each other and Spindrift literally cried out for a
woman’s presence. But as I turned in at Beacon and waved to John, I scolded
myself for matchmaking when my own life was turned upside down just because Leo
had attempted to do the same.

A warm front blew up from the Gulf while a line of cooler
polar air descended from the north. The two met, mingled and fluffed up into a
turmoil of confused thunderheads, becoming saturated as they moved like giant
sponges across the huge sweep of the Great Lakes. Having noted the unexpected
warmth of the winds replacing the cooler morning gusts, I changed into jeans,
T-shirt and canvas shoes to stroll down to the little plot where Leo’s ashes
were so recently buried.

It was a modest grave. A marble slab about two feet square
was set flat into a fresh mound of earth. The dirt was neatly smoothed but much
too stark and raw. The other stone was identical, except its surface was
weathered and comfortably lackluster. It blended naturally, having sunken over
the years into the thickly established grass surrounding it.

I gazed pensively at both stones. Giles had overseen Anna’s
cremation and subsequent burial. Leo had refused to attend the ceremony,
retreating to his study with a case of whisky to deal with his overwhelming
grief. Even after his recovery from that tormented period of mourning, he
rarely visited the grave.

The spot was shaded by a huge, gnarled black cherry tree. A
scattering of the tiny, bitter berries lay squashed into dark purple stains on
the path, trodden upon by attendants at the funeral. It struck me that only a
few days ago, my father had been alive and well. His name, with the dates of
his birth and death so newly etched in the stone, leaped out and seemed such an
inadequate testimonial to the man he was.

If only he hadn’t gone out to the pool that night! If only
someone had been with him!

I put a hand to my face and swept away tears. “If only I’d
been there!” I didn’t mean to say it aloud and the sound of my voice was loud
in the stillness of early evening.

“Prob’ly wouldn’t ’a done no good, even if you was there.”

I spun around, startled. Rudy Coleman stood a little way off
in the darker shadows at the forest’s edge. As I turned, he moved closer,
limping from some ancient injury that stiffened with each change of weather.

“God, you frightened me,” I exclaimed. “You shouldn’t creep
up on people that way, Rudy.” Then, as my heart returned to a normal beat, I
softened. “Sorry. I guess I’m pretty jumpy these days. How are you?”

He inclined his head and dropped his eyes to the stones at
my feet. “I reckon I’m as fit as can be expected.”

We were both silent and I too, looked down at the markers.

“Wouldn’t ’ave made no difference if you’d a-been here,” he
repeated. “When He says it’s time t’ go, well, there ain’t nothin’ no mortal
can do about it.”

He took his battered brown hat from his balding head, rubbed
a gnarled hand over his scalp to smooth back the few wisps of white hair that
danced in the rising wind, then settled the cap back in place.

“I was gonna drop some grass seed here,” he said, as if it
were a normal continuation of the conversation. “Seems there’s a storm comin’
though, so’s now I’ll have to wait ’til mornin’.”

I noted the seed bag in his hand and nodded. I couldn’t
honestly say I ever understood Rudy. He was a loner, happiest when left to go
about his business undisturbed, yet he was part of the very foundations of
Beacon, putting every bit of his own patient endurance into the upkeep and
perpetual regeneration of the estate. He rarely spoke to anyone, yet seemed to
be everywhere at once—clipping hedges, weeding garden beds, patching, painting,
mending, hammering. It seemed an impossible amount of work for just one spindly
old man.

But Rudy was by no means frail. The lean, stoop-shouldered,
leathery veneer he presented belied the lithely muscled, tough individual he
really was. I had no idea how old he was but could swear his appearance hadn’t
changed in all the years I’d known him. I would be disappointed if he appeared
before me dressed in anything other than the familiar old bib overalls, heavy
work boots and shapeless brown cap.

A flicker of lightning cut across the converging clouds on
the horizon and soon a rumble of thunder rolled in. I turned my face to the sky
and saw the first fingers of black edging their way over the trees. The wind
carried the damp musky smell of rain.

“Guess we’ll have to get in out of this,” I remarked.

Rudy didn’t shift his gaze from the stones. “But y’ know,
Miz Suzanna, sometimes I wonder.”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I get this feelin’. Like mebbe this might not
o’ been th’ doin’ o’ the Almighty.”

“I don’t understand.”

He looked at me but I couldn’t read his eyes in the shadows.

“I had a dream, missy,” he said. “Mister Dirkston, he comes
t’ me and says, ‘Rudy, don’t let ’em get away with it!’ His head’s all bloody
from where he fell, an’ he just points to it an’ keeps sayin’, ‘Don’t let ’em
get away with it!’”

I shivered.

He shook his head before continuing. “Can’t say as I know
what t’make of it but I don’ think your Daddy’s restin’ comf’terble down here.”

He turned his head toward the approaching curtain of rain
and another lightning streak threw his face into strobe-like relief. The crack
of thunder that followed was much closer this time.

“Best find shelter, Miz Suzanna. Looks like this one’s gonna
stir things up a mite.”

Before I could collect my thoughts, he was gone, striding
stiff-legged across the lawns toward the stables. I stared after him, his words
repeating themselves in my mind. For the first time, suspicion filled my mind.
Rudy’s instincts, less influenced by grief, uncovered a snakepit of doubt that,
up until now, I’d ignored.

The wind whipped viciously, sending my hair swirling about
my face. Dry leaves ripped from the tree and swooped about like disembodied
wings. The branches groaned and creaked as they swayed stiffly and the first
tentative drops of rain spattered across the face of Leo’s stone, bringing out
the color and making it shine in the lowering gloom. Another streak of
lightning slit the sky directly above me—so close I heard it hiss as it cut the
air. The clap that followed made me jump with fright and I turned to run for
cover.

In that brief moment as I whirled, my eyes raked the forest’s
edge and there, immobile against the blackness behind, I saw him again,
shadowed and obscure. This time, I knew he was no a camper or hitchhiker. And
this time, I didn’t want to find out who he was. I ran back toward the house as
fast as I could just as the clouds opened and spilled their contents in a
blinding, soaking torrent.

Chapter Five

Envy and calumny and hate and pain,

And that unrest which men miscall delight,

Can touch him not and torture not again;

From the contagion of the world’s slow stain

He is secure and now can never mourn

A heart grown cold, a head grown grey in vain.

Mary Godwin Shelley,
Adonis
stanza 40

I announced my decision that evening after dinner. There was
no point keeping the family in suspense any longer. They were gathered in the
living room. Originally this room was called the front parlor but since its
introduction to all the latest recreational gadgets, it was now a favorite
place to retire after dinner, to relax and enjoy a bit of frivolity. Alicia
spent many hours here viewing old movies on DVD or practicing dance steps to
musical soundtracks. Colin whiled away the odd moment playing computer or video
games and Grant often settled in with Giles for a game or two of chess.

It was a large, long room opening off the entrance hall and
stretching across the western face of the house. It had been smartly arranged
with individual groupings of furniture to accommodate varying pastimes. The TV
and entertainment center was in the far corner. A huge stone fireplace filled
the center of the inside wall, while just inside the entrance stood an ebony
grand piano, its wrought iron bench covered in emerald velvet to match the
draperies. When drawn, these drapes covered the entire north wall and hid the
three sets of French doors that looked out onto the pillared front porch. At
present, the veranda was dark with night shadows and wet with rain that
continued to pelt down.

I released the tie that held the curtains and pulled the
drawstring to shut out the raging storm. The lights were dimmed to lessen the
glare on the television screen and the trio lounging indolently in front of it
hardly noticed my entrance.

Colin was sprawled on the couch with Alicia curled on the
shaggy rug at his feet, painting her toenails from a bottle balanced on the
corner of the Victorian coffee table. Grant perched on the edge of a nearby
chair, a cigarette and a glass of iced whisky at his elbow. The television
droned out a weather forecast of continued rain with thunderstorms clearing by
morning, followed by a series of advertisements with inane jingles that set my
teeth on edge. I took the opportunity to switch off the set and faced the
group. They stared at me with mixed surprise and irritation.

“Hey! What’s the idea?” Colin griped.

Alicia opened her mouth to speak, then, seeing my
expression, shut it and put the brush carefully back into the bottle. Grant was
silent but he watched me with interest through slitted eyes.

“I’ve something to say,” I announced, feeling all at once
nervous and somewhat silly. They waited expectantly and I clasped my hands
tight behind my back to keep them from shaking.

“I know you’ve all been waiting for me to decide about this
ultimatum of Dad’s and I thought it was time to put your minds at ease. I went
to Manistee today and left a copy of the will with a lawyer there to see if
anything can be done to get around it.” I looked at the floor, anywhere but at
Grant, though I still felt his eyes burning into me. “It’s not that I don’t
trust you, Grant, I just wanted an unbiased opinion.”

I risked a glance in his direction and he seemed quite
unperturbed, concentrating on extinguishing his cigarette.

“Good for you,” Alicia piped.

I continued, feeling more confident. “I don’t hold out much
hope in that direction and officially, I won’t be deciding anything until I
hear from him. But, unofficially—” I paused, realizing with rising panic that
once the words were out of my mouth, I would not be able to take them back. “Unofficially,”
I plunged on, “I’ve decided I can do nothing less than go along with the terms
of the will.”

There—I’d said it. I was committed now. There was no turning
back.

Silence hung palpably in the room. Outside, the rain beat
against the windows like distant applause. The resonant murmur of retreating
thunder caused the prisms in the chandelier to tinkle.

Colin let out his breath slowly, whispering, “Thank God!”

“It’s not God you need to thank,” Alicia spat at him under
her breath.

Grant shifted and stood up, stretching lazily like a great
panther climbing down off his rock to prepare for the evening hunt. I watched
him, knowing with resentful embarrassment that I had placed myself
unconditionally in his hands.

Before he could open his mouth to speak, however, I rushed
on. “This marriage, of course, will be no more than a piece of paper and won’t
take place at all if it isn’t understood by everyone that it’ll be on my terms.”

My look challenged him to deny this but he merely smiled.
With rising indignation, I could see he found my statement amusing.

“Well,” he said finally. “I guess we should all be grateful
to Suzanna, eh?”

His eyes sparkled dangerously and I turned my look on the
others. Colin was obviously relieved, his eyes radiating puppy-like gratitude.
Alicia, on the other hand, was stricken. Her face was ashen and her mouth was
clamped tightly shut. She wasn’t looking at me but at Grant—an expression of
spite.

Grant came to stand next to me. He placed a strong arm
around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze that hurt. He was still smiling. “So,
you’ve come down off your regal throne, my girl and deigned to bestow your
gracious gifts upon mere mortals such as ourselves?”

“Grant, don’t,” I muttered, shaking off his arm and
retreating to sink into a chair before my knees buckled.

“What’s the matter? Can’t put up with a hug from your
fiancé?” He snorted and bent to retrieve his glass, downing the last of his
whisky in one gulp. “Well, my dear adoptive relatives, has it ever occurred to
any of you that I have an equal say in this decision that Suzanna has so
magnanimously taken upon herself?”

I looked up at him in surprise.

“Yes, that’s right,” he said, seeing me blush. “You’ve been
so keen to bemoan your own hideous fate, you forgot it takes two to tango.”

Alicia’s cheeks had regained some of their color and her
eyes shifted victoriously to me. Her words, however, were sympathetic. “Really,
Grant, how can you be so horrid? Of course, Suzanna knows you would want to go
along with this. We all know you stand to gain the most in the long run.”

“Don’t pretend to know my mind, Alicia. I can think of
easier ways to come up in the world.”

Alicia laughed lightly. “Oh, Grant, you can be so silly!”

He shot her a venomous look and strode from the room. I
watched him go with regret. He was right. It never occurred to me to speak to
him first. I just assumed he’d made his decision. I’d even mentally accused him
of somehow being a party to the plan for no other reason than to humiliate me.