The Widow's Walk (27 page)

As his footsteps faded in the hall, Mae jumped up. “Excuse me.” She started to the door.

“No, stay right here.” Mike placed Eddie in the crib and covered him before he turned to the two women. “I need time alone to consider my options.”

He strode toward the door. Liz’s chest hurt as if she’d been punched.

“Wait.” She ran into the hall and caught his arm. “We need to talk.”

“We don’t need to do anything. Tomorrow, I’ll figure out how we’re all going to get home–together. Then you need to placate Marianne Hartley, and the authorities that want to question you. And Jay, who has been desperately trying to contact you about how he’s going to 'fix' all this. Now that I know you and Eddie are alive, I need eight hours of uninterrupted rest– alone.” Mike shook her hand off and left.

The bitter words stung the raw inside of her gut where the ghost resided, now an empty chasm. Liz returned to the room.

Exhaustion softened Mae’s brogue. “Liz, we’re all wasted away from worry. I called Kevin to tell him we’d found you and Eddie, and that you’re all right. The poor man was in tears. I need to get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll talk tomorrow.” She managed a flicker of a smile and crawled onto one side of the double bed, still in her clothes.

Emma rapped at the door. Liz took the tray and ate by herself. The food filled a hole in her stomach, but did nothing to alleviate the dread, the uncertainty. She brought the dishes back to the kitchen and wandered the chasms of Elisabeth’s unhappy past. The Countess’ eyes seemed to follow her as she walked past the portrait over the piano.

Liz sat by a window in the parlour, looking out over the landscape illuminated by the snow. The present blended into the past. She was Liz, wanting her husband, the one Edward had handed her off to as Jared, now twice. And she was Elisabeth, longing for Edward who she captured the first time only to have him slip through her fingers–now gone forever. The gazebo stood shrouded in a ghostly glow, a remnant of Edward’s visitation, now deserted, empty.

Liz vowed to do the best she could to repair her portion of the damage. Broke, widowed, now soon to be divorced, she’d try to move on.

Chapter 37

Mae and Liz explored the house, looking at the antiques and furniture. This threatened to snap Mike’s last nerve. How could they have recovered from the ordeal so quickly? It certainly sounded like Katherine had retreated into the recesses of her memory, and there wasn’t a trace of British in Liz’s voice. Every time he thought of the graveyard, let alone caught a glimpse of it out the dining room window, he needed another layer of clothes. Another one of those feminine mysteries.

He just wanted to get the hell out of this country. But Mae was looking forward to seeing Buckingham Palace, the changing of the guard, Harrods. The least she could do since she’d been responsible for finding Liz in the first place. He’d just stay in the hotel room they’d booked and paid for already with Eddie while two women continued their soiree without any interference.

Mike turned his attention back to the computer, trying to get Liz and Eddie a seat on the same return flight he and Mae were booked on. No luck unless he wanted to spring for first class. No way was he sending her on a flight by herself. His back was turned to Elisabeth’s portrait over the piano, but Mike felt her gaze on him, and a faint tingle of Edward’s presence in this room, ruining his breakfast. But the Internet didn’t work too well anywhere else.

“Any luck?” Liz chased Eddie into the room.

He picked up his son. His son. Those damp kisses could soothe any hurt. “Not unless you want to blow $1000.00 on a first class ticket. Or take a chance on standby.”

“I have a lot of points on my American Express, which I was saving for something else. This might be a good time to use them up.” She sat next to him and tapped the keyboard.

The scent of lemon caught his nose. Did she go anywhere without that powder and lotion?

Liz looked at him. “Buy it. It’s first class, but I have enough points to defray the cost.” “You can sit there with Eddie, if you’d like.”

Eddie squirmed. “Hang on champ. I’ll take you for a walk in a minute. Let’s not worry about that now. At least we’re on the same plane.” He didn’t want to think about the next three days, the four of them in a tiny hotel room, the trip home, or what was going to happen once they got there. He didn’t want to think about anything.

She typed. “Okay, confirmed. The ticket will be almost free.”

“No, it cost a fortune.” He knew she’d been saving those points for a belated honeymoon, and this was the furthest thing from it he could imagine.

They stared at each other for what seemed like forever.

“I’ll make this all up to you, Mike. I swear.”

“I’m not sure you can.”

“Iman will take us back to London this afternoon. We can try and salvage something over the next few days, can’t we?”

The whole story of how she got this private driver was as clunky as a bell buoy. “Tell me again how you met this guy.”

“A businessman helped me with my bags and through security. Turned out to be the British special envoy. He sent Iman to meet me at the airport. And Andrew picked up the tab for my breakfast and the ride from the airport.”

“Andrew? You’re on a first name basis with a chauffeur and some guy you met in the airport? How did you know any of this was legit?” He was continually unimpressed with her lack of judgment.

“I was nervous at first, but you have to have faith sometimes.” She sat back, her arms crossed over her chest. “You trusted Sandra, didn’t you? I didn’t like that any better.”

Liz had been remarkably penitent, but her patience seemed to be wearing out. His was long gone. Eddie’s was waning quickly.

She thought for a minute. “I’ve come to believe that there are ghosts, angels, witches and probably fairies, in the most unlikely places. You never know when they’re going to show up, exert their influence. It’s all a matter of being open and willing to embrace the unknown, unseen, things we can’t understand but just feel.”

Mike pushed back his chair and whisked the baby out of the damn room.

“Look what I found today.” James rested a portrait on the counter, the one of Elisabeth, her mother and her father, standing on the steps of Apthorp.

Deep inside, Elisabeth gasped. Lord Baxter had genuflected to Edward, admitted defeat, and guided his great-grandson one stop closer to knowing the truth about Elisabeth and why she fled.

Liz found her tongue. “Elisabeth and Lady Baxter. The originals.”

James stared at her intently. “You favour her, Liz.”

Her cheeks burned. “Odd coincidence. I must confess I sought out this place because I run a bed and breakfast in the very house Edward Barrett built for Lady Elisabeth Baxter, his runaway bride. And my finances are no better than yours. But if I am ever in the position to offer any assistance toward the upkeep of this magnificent place, I shall do so.”

“I suppose that makes us honorary cousins, twice, or is it thrice removed?”

Liz swallowed hard. “Yes, perhaps you’ll visit us someday and I can repay your hospitality.”

James’ grin broadcast his delight. “We’d like that. Captain Barrett took her to what was supposed to be a better life in America.” He stroked his beard.

“Amazing insights to be gained from seeing the house. Is it named?” Emma rested her chin on James shoulder.

“I call it the Barrett Inn, and yes, it’s full of history–as is Apthorp.” Best to leave it there.

A horn tooted, and they walked together to the front door.

“I’ll include an anecdote about this research trip in my book, with photos of Apthorp. Perhaps it will garner you some business. Please, visit me in Massachusetts.”

Me, it will be just me and Eddie, bankrupt and destitute.
She handed James a card and got into the back seat next to Mae, who cradled Eddie on her lap. Mike sat in the front seat, staring straight ahead, sullen. He’d gotten what he’d come for–her.

Iman closed her door and shook James’s hand.

Liz turned as they drove away and watched the door close. Elisabeth stirred at the memory of that fateful moment of truth, though realizing she would have fared no better if she’d stayed. Sadness washed over Liz like a gentle surf, smoothing away the ripples of time. Would Elisabeth once again settle into the recesses of her memory?

She studied her husband’s profile as he watched the road unfold, deep in his own reminiscences. It was time for them to go home, go on, go about their business now that Elisabeth’s business was finished.

“You sit in first class.” Liz shoved her boarding pass into Mike’s hands.

“I think Mae deserves it.” He’d been saying the same thing for the last three days, only going along with their plans to make Mae happy.

Mike didn’t complain about sleeping on a cot, sharing the room with two women and a baby. He passed the time in his own sullen funk, always a few steps behind. The only time he smiled was when Eddie did something cute.

“I feel guilty.” Mae’s protest was far from forceful.

“Nonsense. Enjoy.” Liz tucked the boarding pass into her passport.

“Well at least let me hold the baby.” Mae’s smile belied her delight. “I never imagined I’d ever sit in first class. And the two of you have some talking to do.”

Liz went to the counter to speak to the agent. If the last few days were any indication, she and Mike would spend seven hours alternating between stony silence and brief episodes of sparring.

They all got to board early, by benefit of first class and the baby. Mae settled in. Eddie already knew how to plug in the airline headset. God the kid was so cute. And so smart.

Mike took the aisle seat, after Liz and the person by the window got situated. They couldn’t argue that much with a stranger sitting next to them. Elisabeth seemed to have remained with Edward in the shadows of the gazebo. Could she still be lurking? What was going on in Mike’s head? Was Jared agitated by Edward’s charge–or had it been a challenge?

Liz tried to get his attention, but Mike closed his eyes, reclined his seat, and turned up the volume on his headset. Liz took his hand. He pulled away.

How could she go live in his house and give up everything when he was acting like this? She should remain loyal to the man who had married a woman pregnant with another’s child, and treated him as his own son. The man who toiled dawn to dusk to provide for them even though, by rights, he should be comfortably retired sitting by a fire in his living room instead of risking his life on the freezing, heaving Atlantic Ocean.

The fact his house hadn’t sold last year might be another sign. It wasn’t a romantic Victorian landmark. But the one hundred-year-old colonial was charming, nicely situated, private–and it wasn’t haunted.

He took off his headset as they served dinner, and she was able to make eye contact.

“What are we going to do when we get home?”

Mike picked at the food on the tray then put the cover back on. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to bed. If you want to stay married, you can pack your things and come on over. If not, you’re on your own.” He stared out the window.

She whispered in his ear. “How do you know that the ghosts won’t be gone? It seems ...”

“I have no intention of setting foot in that house again.” He passed his tray to the attendant and put his headset back on.

She needed to move around, get away. “Excuse me. I’m going to see how Mae and Eddie are doing.”

Mike took his time getting up to let her pass.

She had a choice to make, neither of which seemed like the right one.

Chapter 38

Kevin acted as if they’d just returned from a pleasant holiday. He waved as they emerged from Customs, hugged them all. Mike helped him load the trunk. If they exchanged more than a handshake, Liz didn’t see or hear it. She and Mae got Eddie secured in the back seat.

“Marti drove the BMW up this mornin’ and I dropped her back home just now. That was a great idea ya had, Lizzy.” Never one to dwell on what could not be changed, Kevin was ready to get back to some semblance of normal.

But things would never be the same.

“So, you’ve been keepin’ busy.” Mae reached over the front seat and patted his back.

Kevin didn’t answer. The two men spoke in hushed tones all the way home, about nothing in particular: the latest news, weather, and town gossip. Liz couldn’t imagine life without Mae and Kevin, and couldn’t imagine how to tell them what she’d decided.

Mae held Liz’s hand–the bond between them transcended not only time, but also words. Dusk had overtaken the sky by the time they arrived home, bathing the house in eerie shadows. Purple and orange clouds dangled like skeletal fingers. Liz’s scalp prickled. Would the ghosts re-emerge tonight?

Mike said no goodbyes. He dragged a suitcase through the pine grove toward his house. Kevin and Mae traded tight-lipped glances and helped get the luggage and Eddie’s things inside.

Liz hauled her things upstairs to the bedroom and dumped the lot onto her bed. Mae had cleaned and tidied after she’d grabbed Eddie and run off. No toys, no clutter, no evidence of life. Elisabeth, too, was absent. Had her hunger, the unease, vanished into Edward’s embrace?

Mae shuffled in and gathered dirty clothes into a hamper. “I was hopin’ being cuddled together so close on the plane you’d worked things out, but it seems Mike isn’t comin’ home.”

“He can’t face it.” How could she blame him for not trusting Elisabeth’s despair had finally been assuaged, and that Liz had been freed from bondage? “I’m going to sell this house and go live in his. It’s the only way to save my marriage.”

Liz waited for the pained look on Mae’s face but instead saw only resignation.

“Has he agreed to that?” The gravel in her voice belied the sadness.

“No, he delivered the ultimatum. I need to deliver my answer.” No rational person could justify choosing a house over a human. But Elisabeth wasn’t rational, nor was she human.

“Then ya best be gettin’ right over there, Lizzy. Poor man’s been sufferin’ for months waitin’, hopin’, prayin’.” Mae crossed her arms over her chest.

“Tomorrow, after we both get some sleep. I’ll . . .”

“Go now. Kevin and me will look after Eddie. Don’t come home, don’t call, don’t worry about anythin’ until the two of you patch things up.”

“But we’ve just gotten home after a transatlantic flight and . . .”

Mae’s frustration vented. “I’m tired of your excuses, Liz. Kevin’s fresh as a daisy, and Eddie is an angel.”

“And I’m the devil incarnate.” Liz’s snipe was unjustified, and she knew it before the words were out.

“No, you’re not.” Mae hugged her. “Just a confused angel who needs to decide whether she wants to live in the past or the present. Now fly over to Mike’s house and make him remember why he fell in love with you.”

Liz wiped tears away with the back of her hand. “If he’ll let me in.”

Mae handed her a tissue. “He will.”

They walked downstairs together. Kevin sat on the floor in the parlor while Eddie tottered around throwing magazines and ripping out the pages. He looked up when he saw his mother, and Mae and pointed to the picture of a container of orange juice.

“Juze,” he announced with pride.

“Yes, slugger.” Liz scooped him up and blew a raspberry on his belly, eliciting squeals of delight.

Eddie squirmed until she put him down and headed for a pile of
Better Homes and Gardens
.

“Liz is goin’ to Mike’s.” Mae picked up the baby. “Say night, night to mama.”

“Ni-ni.” He twisted again.

Mae plopped him next to Kevin.

“Tell Mike I’ll see him in the mornin’. In the meantime, we’ll give Eddie more lessons and a bath. God, I missed this tyke.” Kevin stretched out over the rug and Eddie jumped on top of him. “Ya got me, ahhh, gush.”

The baby squealed. Liz’s heart ached. How would she be able to live without the two of them?

Mae put her hands on her hips. “The hell ya will. The two of them aren’t comin’ out of that house until they make up. And ya aren’t goin’ near Mike to distract him.”

Kevin rose to meet his eyebrows. “Who are ya to be orderin’ Liz around like that?”

Mae’s stare in return was all the answer either of them needed.

Liz grabbed her coat and headed across the dead, tangled grass, through the pine grove.

Only a dim yellow glow poked through the kitchen window. He was probably already asleep. By London time it was already midnight, and they’d been up since 6 a.m.

Even though she had her key she’d not dare unlock the door and walk into his space, his refuge. Liz knocked loud enough to arouse him. Mike’s shadow darkened the sidelights before the foyer light blinked on. His puzzled, frazzled face peered through at her. Locks clicked. The door opened.

“What’s wrong?” Mike closed it hard behind her. The chill in the long vacant house matched the icy expression of its owner.

Liz hadn’t expected a warm reception. “I came to work this out.”

“Where’s Eddie?”

“With Mae and Kevin. They’ve agreed to watch him for as long as it takes us to resolve things.” She took off her coat and hung it over the banister, then draped her scarf on top.

He watched her with a look somewhere in between aggravation and contempt. “If you intended to come live here, you should have brought our son and your things.”

Her face burned like he’d slapped her. She’d have preferred that. “You’re tired, and so am I. Call me when you’re ready.” She pushed past him and out the door, leaving the coat behind.

Mike ran after her, barefoot. He caught her arm before she got to the last step. “I’m sorry. You came over in good faith. It’s not fair to treat you like that.” He led her back inside, but released his grasp and moved away. “I’m looking forward to going to bed early. Just had a hot bath and was going to make an omelet. You can’t have had time to eat dinner.”

Liz swallowed the angry retort. He had to get this out to get over it.

“No, I haven’t eaten anything since the flight.” She followed him into the dated, dusty kitchen.

An old hatbox fixture, filled with dead flies, sputtered to life, diffusing harsh white light over the chipped porcelain sink, smudged cabinetry, and scratched chrome and
Formica
dinette. Wall sconces would be more pleasing to the eye, and there would be more natural light if those damned shutters were gone. Still, they’d need some kind of ceiling fixture, maybe a dimmer on an antique Tiffany lamp. Everything else had to go.

But they had no money for even a cursory makeover, let alone a major renovation, especially after the fare for three round trip transatlantic flights and a London vacation in midwinter. God, what a mess she’d made of things, following her heart, following her ghost.

Mike whisked eggs far too long. Chopped onions far too tiny. The pan sizzled as he poured the mixture in, added a dash of milk, some frozen spinach, cheddar cheese, and whisked again.

He was a good cook, preferring simple hearty food as a fisherman would. And wickedly handsome, even in a worn plaid bathrobe and bare feet. Liz knew how trim and tight his body was underneath. How strong his arms were, yet how gentle he was. It had been so long . . .

“I think there’s some bread in the freezer.” He rummaged. “Damn, if I’d known I’d have picked it up with the eggs and milk. Oh, here it is. I stuck it in here so it would keep while I was away.” He turned to her. “Toast?”

“Sure, one slice.” She answered.

“I had no idea how long I’d be gone. No idea where you were. No idea if you and Eddie were alive.” He slammed the door of the toaster oven shut and went back to the omelet.

At least he was talking. “I hurt you.”

“Scared the shit out of me.” He used a rubber spatula to flip one edge of the omelet over on the other, then turned toward her holding the cast iron pan, a look of fury on his face.

Liz flinched. Was this Mike or Jared?

Mike sighed and shook his head. “It’s going to take a while for me to get over this.”

“We’ll work things out.” She didn’t believe it, and doubted he did either.

Mike slid the omelet onto a plate and cut it in two pieces. He arranged the toast around it. Liz found some jelly and butter and joined him at the table.

“It’s delicious.” She was hungrier than she thought.

“Have to do a big shopping.”

There was no connection, no trust, no intimacy left between them. Liz had ripped it all to shreds, and now she had to try and piece it back together. “I’ve made up my mind to put the inn on the market. I’ll move my things little by little. I don’t know what will happen to Kevin and Mae, maybe they could just live here, too. It’s a big house.”

“I love Kevin and Mae, but having them here would be impossible. And I have little faith that you’ll go through with this.” Mike finished and cleaned the stove.

Liz cleared the table, snuggled up behind him, and draped her arms around his neck. “I’m here to stay. No going back.” His warm, muscular body smelled like Ivory soap, baby shampoo, pure comfort.

Mike twisted out of her grasp. “I’m going to bed. You’re welcome to join me, but I can’t handle any nookie right now. Maybe we can work this out, but it will take time to get back to where we were.”

“I understand.” So much for making him remember why he married her.

“You made a big concession. I can at least commit to trying.” He brushed away her tears, but there was no tenderness, no affection.

She tidied up, shook off his rebuff. By the time Liz got upstairs, Mike was already asleep, curled around a pillow.

Her toothbrush still rested in the stand. Extra clothes, make-up, tub toys for Eddie they’d left behind lay scattered about since they’d last fled here for temporary peace and quiet, when the Barrett Inn was full of guests, and the ghosts were just starting to emerge.

Liz nearly fell asleep soaking in the tub. She toweled off and rubbed baby lotion into her chapped skin. She dabbed on her favorite scented talc, preferring the more adult citrus fragrance to baby powder.

Her nightgowns were in the dresser drawer, but she didn’t dare go into the bedroom swathed in a towel. She would do nothing to pressure him into intimacy before he was ready. Chilled from standing naked on the cold tile, Liz took Mike’s bathrobe from behind the door. It nearly dragged on the floor, and she had to wrap the belt twice around her to hitch it up. He certainly wouldn’t fault her for seducing him in this getup.

She slunk into the bedroom. Sheer curtains would let in more light. A pastel color would brighten the walls, dingy from years of dirt over 1970s olive green paint. They’d planned to let who ever bought it redecorate, but now it would be their home.

Pain seared Liz’s insides. She suppressed the flood of tears until she pulled her sensible long tee shirt from the sticky dresser drawer and darted back into the bathroom. Mike didn’t stir as wood scraped over wood and the door closed a bit too hard.

She ran water in the sink to muffle the sobs. How could she sell the beautiful Barrett Inn, the business she’d worked so hard to build up? The house Edward had insisted she stay in. The ghostly apparition might have been released from her moment of anguish, finally knowing her husband was never coming home. But the woman who remained behind contemplated letting Mike have his solitary life, leaving her to do the same.

Liz sank to the floor and cried until her head throbbed, her throat hurt. She splashed cool water on her face, but nothing would soothe her eyes, red, swollen, and heavy with exhaustion. If only they could be as in love as Mae and Kevin, curled up with each other, and Eddie, in the cottage. If only Mae knew what was not transpiring, that Mike was sleeping while she hid in the bathroom, afraid to disturb her own husband by lying next to him in bed. But she was too tired and cold and didn’t come over here to sleep on a dirty bathroom floor.

He still lay in the same position, face taut, angry, even though his breathing was slow, measured, deep. Those dreams were not likely pleasant.

Liz eased onto the mattress and paused to look over the tops of the shutters at the crescent moon and a smattering of stars. She tried reading, fumbled, lost her grip on the magazine, and left it splayed on the floor.

Flat on her back, she moved as close as she could get to the edge without falling out. Tears moistened her earlobes, her neck, her pillow. Pale moonlight glinted in the mirror. An eerie silver light reflected across the room rendering it into a black and white negative. Dark clouds dotted the sky, signaling an impending storm.

Furniture, lampshades, picture frames all took on mystical personae, but there was no aura, no tingling, no cold. No ghosts. Liz let her eyes close, acutely aware of Mike just inches away, though they were separated by miles, the gap too wide to be bridged. She turned off her brain and curled on her side, facing the husband who wanted nothing to do with her.