The Other Child (14 page)

A slight dizzy feeling made her reach out and find the wall with her hand. She stood that way for a long moment with her eyes closed. Then she turned and walked to her room. There was something she had to do.

She went straight to the closet and opened it. All her clothes were here—the expensive, color-coordinated outfits her mother had given her. Looking at her pretty clothes usually made her happy, but Leslie frowned as she fingered the soft cashmeres and rich materials that filled hanger after hanger. For some reason these clothes weren’t acceptable anymore.

She looked down at the blouse she was wearing. It was light pink polished cotton with a dainty lace trim. She had always loved it.

With a deliberate motion Leslie yanked it off over her head, ripping a seam. This blouse wasn’t right for her anymore. It was too fussy and feminine.

She found an old white shirt in the back of her closet. Mike had given it to her to wear when they were unloading the trailer. She rolled up the sleeves and slipped it on. It felt just right. Now she had to do something about her designer jeans.

Leslie grabbed her favorite pair of designer jeans and ripped off the pockets with their fancy designs. Then she snipped off the legs in a ragged line. Now she had a pair of cutoffs. She stood in front of the mirror and smiled at her reflection. She looked perfect now, except for her shoes.

Quickly Leslie removed her Gucci loafers. She threw her socks under the bed and wiggled her bare toes happily. Now she was dressed just the way she should be, just the way she’d been in . . .?

She stopped, confused. As she’d been . . . when? She couldn’t remember. She had known for a second, but now the memory was gone.

It didn’t matter. She felt much happier now and she wasn’t lonely any longer. And now she knew exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to go up to the cupola and take a little nap. When she woke up, her mind would be clear again. Then she might be able to remember whatever it was she had forgotten.

Karen sipped her orange juice and read, the leather-bound diary propped open against the sugar container. She was nearing the end of Dorthea’s last diary now and she couldn’t bear to put it down. Her heart went out to the poor girl. Just reading between the lines convinced her that Dorthea had been victimized by Kirby Shaw.

Leslie sat across from her, elbows propped on the table. Her bare feet were hooked around the legs of the chair and Karen grinned at the sight. She’d never seen Leslie in a more undignified position! All of her ladylike ways seemed to have disappeared overnight and Karen shook her head in amusement.

She had been shocked when Leslie appeared in this ridiculous outfit two days ago. “How do I look, Mom?” Leslie had grinned expectantly. “These clothes are perfect for here, don’t you think?”

Karen was ready to scold her, but she thought better of it. If that’s what Leslie wanted to wear around the house, she supposed it was all right with her. She wasn’t exactly a fashion plate herself lately. And the outfit, as unattractive as it seemed at first, was certainly practical. In a tomboyish sort of way, Leslie looked cute.

It took Karen some time before she figured it out. Then she was glad she hadn’t said the wrong thing. She really hadn’t considered it before, but Leslie’s wardrobe was a direct contrast to the things the Cold Spring children wore. They seemed to dress exclusively in old shirts and cutoff jeans. It was kind of a reverse snobbery. With her makeshift outfit, Leslie was just trying to fit in.

Leslie looked up from her work as she felt her mother’s gaze. She was braiding a new strap for her camera from long leather thongs. “Did you find out any more, Mom? Did Dorthea get married yet?”

Karen smiled at her daughter. They were both fascinated by Dorthea’s story. The Appleton family was real to them, as real as friends they had always known.

“Dorthea’s father caught them together in the rose garden.” Karen pointed to the page. “He threw an absolute fit and threatened to kick Kirby out of town, but Amelia stepped in. The portrait wasn’t finished yet, you know. She persuaded Mr. Appleton to let Kirby stay until the painting was completed. Amelia agreed to chaperone all Dorthea’s sittings.”

“Does her mother know Dorthea’s in love with Kirby?” Leslie leaned closer.

“Oh, Amelia knows, but she’s not happy about it, either.” Karen sighed. “Amelia thinks Kirby’s not good enough for Dorthea, but she’s more sympathetic than Mr. Appleton. She’s hoping that Dorthea will come to her senses eventually. Mr. Appleton hired a detective to investigate Kirby’s background. He thinks Kirby is after the family money.”

“Is he?” Leslie questioned eagerly.

“I think so,” Karen went on. “Let me read a little more and I’ll tell you. I think Dorthea’s heading for big trouble.”

A few moments later Karen gasped aloud. “Oh, no, this is terrible, Leslie! Dorthea’s pregnant. Just listen to this.”

“That’s the end!” Karen paged through the rest of the diary, but it was blank. Dorthea had indeed run off as she had written, leaving her locked diaries behind. No wonder her family had replaced her portrait with the pastoral scene! Dorthea had left Cold Spring in disgrace, disappearing into the night with her lover. It was romantic and terribly sad. Karen swallowed hard as she closed the diary.

“But did she come back?” Leslie sat on the very edge of her chair. “Does it say what happened to Dorthea and her baby?”

“There’s no more here.” Karen looked wistful. “Maybe we’ll find something else in the trunks upstairs, honey.”

“I hope so! I want to know what else happened, Mom. I really like Dorthea!”

The ringing of the telephone interrupted their speculations, and Karen hurried from the room to answer it.

“Karen?” Mike’s voice was thin and there was static on the line. “I’ll be late tonight, so don’t hold dinner for me. I won’t be home until midnight or maybe later. We ran into some snags here and it’s going to take a lot longer than I thought.”

Karen heard a burst of laughter and loud conversation. There was a jukebox playing in the background and she drew in her breath sharply.

“Are you working now?” she asked, her voice skeptical. “It sounds like you’re in a bar, Mike. You swore to me you weren’t drinking again.”

“I’m not drinking! Christ, Karen! You’re really getting paranoid lately! I just ran across the street to use the phone in here.”

“But, Mike—”

“Got to run now. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

There was a click and the line went dead. Karen stood staring at the receiver for a long moment before she replaced it in the cradle. Mike didn’t fool her for a second. He wasn’t working late; he was drinking again! Damn him for being such a fool!

“Mike won’t be home until late.” Karen covered her feelings with a smile for Leslie’s benefit. “I think I’ll get started refinishing the dining-room table. Is there anything special you’d like to do, kitten?”

“I’d really like to read these journals, if you don’t mind, Mom. I could take them up to the tower room and learn all about Dorthea. I’ll be careful with them, I promise.”

“That’s fine, honey.” Karen smiled broadly. By reading the journals Leslie would learn about the history of this house. And maybe tonight, before Mike got home, they could go through some of the boxes and trunks in the ballroom. Leslie seemed just as interested as she was in finding out more about Dorthea.

The table was finally stripped and Karen stepped back to survey her work. The grain of the wood she’d uncovered was gorgeous. It was going to be lovely when she was through.

Karen stood up and rubbed the small of her back. The stripping was hard work and two hours had passed in a rush. Soon Leslie would be getting hungry. She really should go up and check on her daughter. There hadn’t been a peep from the cupola.

“Leslie? Aren’t you getting—oh!” Karen gave a soft smile as she opened the door of the cupola and saw her golden-haired daughter sleeping soundly, surrounded by pillows. Leslie’s hair was tangled and Karen noticed she looked warm. She gently touched her forehead. While Leslie wasn’t feverish, it was probably good for her to nap. She’d let her sleep now and stay up later tonight.

Karen saw the key on the floor as she turned to leave. The string was frayed and broken. Idly Karen picked it up and turned it over in her fingers. She didn’t have the faintest idea why Leslie was so attached to this rusty old key, but she had worn it around her neck ever since she’d found it. At least it would look nicer on a pretty ribbon or chain. She thought Leslie would like that. It would be a surprise for her when she woke up.

Karen slipped the key into her pocket and went back down the stairs. She paused as she passed the hall window. She could hear the mower outside, a high-pitched humming that made her head hurt. Red Fischer was working on the yard.

Red was a real gem. Karen smiled as she caught sight of him rounding the corner. He wore blue denim overalls and a straw fishing hat bobbing with lures. Red said he’d always itched to get his hands on this beautiful estate and get it into shape.

“Oh, dear!” Karen frowned in irritation. She had forgotten to tell Red about the rose garden. If she went outside right now, she could catch him before he left for the day.

She could still smell the fumes from the stripper and took a deep breath of the clean air outside. The yard smelled wonderful. A smile took the place of her frown as she walked across the lawn. Damp cut grass stuck to her shoes and she kicked up puffs of green as she walked.

Red was working at the side of the house now. Karen brushed her fingers against the trunk of an old elm tree as she passed it. Perhaps Dorthea had played under this very tree as a child. It looked very old. It was a joy to have huge old trees on their property, and Red said they were all healthy and thriving.

“Mr. Fischer?” Karen raised her voice, but she was no competition for the whine of the power mower.
“Mr. Fischer?”

The elderly gardener stopped and turned, shutting off the machine as he saw her standing there. He grinned widely, showing the gaps in his tobacco-stained teeth.

“Found you a little surprise, Mrs. Houston. Your husband told me to cut real close to the house this time, so I mowed down these bushes and look what I found!”

Karen’s eyes followed his pointing finger and she saw a weathered door, flush with the ground. Before Red had mowed here, it had been completely overgrown and hidden by shrubbery.

“Bet a city dweller like you don’t know what that is.” Red grinned as Karen shook her head. “That’s a root cellar. People used them all the time to store things like potatoes and onions. Sometimes they even hid valuables down there. Do you want me to saw that lock off so you can look inside?”

“Not today, Mr. Fischer.” She stared at the root cellar with interest. “It’s getting late and I’d like you to stop at the store and pick up the supplies we need for the rose garden. Leslie and I want to help with that. We want to learn more about gardening if you’ll teach us.”

“My pleasure, Mrs. Houston. That little girl of yours looks like she’s got a green thumb. It does folks good to work in the earth and make things grow. You want me to pick up some stakes for the arborvitae, too? The ones in the front are leaning some.”

“Pick up whatever you need.” Karen gave him a smile. “You’re the expert, Mr. Fischer. You’ve certainly done a beautiful job so far.”

Karen couldn’t help walking closer to the root cellar and she knelt down to examine the lock. She heard the sound of Red’s pickup truck as it started with a cough, and she sighed. Perhaps she should have asked him to saw off the lock. She’d really love to take a look at the root cellar right now. It was too bad the key wasn’t hanging in the shed.

“The key!” Karen drew Leslie’s key from her pocket. She
had
found it in the yard. It was certainly old enough and it was a padlock key. If she was really lucky, it might fit.

Karen felt uneasy as she reached for the lock. She wasn’t sure if she felt up to exploring right now. Somehow she had the feeling that she should leave well enough alone and let the shrubbery grow back to hide it again.

She gave a short laugh and felt silly. She was a grown woman, and it was just an old root cellar. She’d never know what was down there if she didn’t try to unlock it.

The lock was rusty and Karen jiggled the key, trying to turn it. She was almost ready to give up when something clicked inside the lock. It opened with a protesting squeak. What a stroke of luck. So Leslie’s key had been valuable after all! She could hardly wait to tell her.

Karen lifted the door carefully, propping it open with a sturdy branch from Red’s woodpile. Then she looked dubiously at the rotten wooden steps leading downward. She’d have to be very careful not to fall. It actually might be better to wait until Leslie woke up to climb down there, but she was anxious to make this discovery all by herself. She’d just take a quick peek around and then lock it up again. That way Leslie could have the same exciting discovery later.

Slowly and carefully Karen started down the steps, testing the wood first with one foot before she put her full weight on the step. An odor greeted her as she descended. It was the smell of damp darkness and musty wood. And it was cool, at least ten degrees cooler than the air outside.

She stopped halfway down and blinked. Now she wished she’d thought to bring a flashlight. It was dark down here and all she could see were dim shapes in the gloom. She’d go all the way to the bottom and then stop to let her eyes adjust. There should be enough light coming in through the opening to illuminate the shelves right in front of her.

She didn’t hear the rustling until she was three quarters of the way down. There was something here! Karen gave a scream and tried to turn on the narrow steps, her heart pounding frantically. Her foot slipped and then she was falling clumsily, clutching with her hands for a railing that wasn’t there.

She hit solidly, so solidly that her teeth bit into her lip. There was blinding pain and she gasped weakly, pressing both hands to her rounded stomach.
The baby!

The pain was so intense it drove everything else from her mind. It hit her like a blow, rhythmic and searing, tearing her breath from her body. There was a sticky wetness between her legs and she called out weakly for help.

It was darker now and there was a high-pitched ringing in her ears. Karen knew she had to get out of here before she fainted. The scrabbling sound from the darkest corners of the root cellar was getting louder. It was coming for her!

She screamed once in terror and then she crawled, fingers clawing desperately in the earthen floor to pull herself forward.
Too slow . . . God!
It was coming closer and she couldn’t get away!

The first step was in front of her now and she hoisted herself up, not caring about the pain, not caring that the wooden splinters dug into her hands. She had to get out of here.

Another step and then another. She fought to stay conscious, pulling herself forward on bleeding knees and painful hands. Something was waiting down there in the darkness, waiting for her to faint and fall back, waiting to trap her in the dead blackness. She couldn’t fall; she had to keep climbing. There was the square of sky, growing larger with each step she mounted. The sky and the sunshine . . . she had to make it.

She could see the old elm tree in the square of bright daylight. Karen willed herself forward, fighting the weakness that was stealing over her body in waves. She was almost there . . . just another few seconds and she’d be at the top. Her fingers grasped the opening . . . up . . . up . . . the sky dull red as she dragged herself into fiery daylight.... She’d made it! She crawled forward until her fingers were buried in the freshly cut grass. Now the sky was fading to black, coming in a rush before she could even open her mouth to scream.