Petals on the Pillow (21 page)

She had only poured the hot water from the kettle into her cup, when Kendra slipped almost soundlessly through the swinging doors.

“Trouble sleeping?” Kendra’s mouth twisted in a smile.

Kelly nodded, warily stepping back against the counter. There was something different about Kendra tonight. Her usual warmth was missing. She seemed cold. Her eyes were hollow and blank.

“Something like that,” Kelly answered. Her voice felt rusty in her throat.

Kendra sailed past her and yanked open the refrigerator door. She rummaged around for a moment and emerged with an orange and a quart of milk. Kelly watched with naked fascination as Kendra slit the skin of the orange with a stiletto-sharp nail. Juice and pulp oozed from the wound. Kendra ran her tongue along the edge of her nail, eyes closed to slits. “Of course that’s nothing new for you, is it?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Kendra laughed. Her fingernails slipped beneath the skin of the orange again and again, pealing back the knobby skin to expose the white flaking pith. “Trouble sleeping. It’s not new for you.” Her mirthless laugh hung in the air with the sweet bright scent of citrus. “I know Harrison thinks he’s the only one wandering the halls at night, but lately it’s gotten to be quite a crowd.”

“You can say that again.” A wry smile played across Kelly’s lips.

“So what was it tonight? Bad dream? Mysterious noises? Flashing lights?” Kendra watched Kelly’s reaction from under lowered eyelids as she poured herself a glass of milk.

Kelly’s mouth fell open and snapped shut again like a fish.

Kendra popped a segment of orange in her mouth. She chewed with slow deliberation, clearly enjoying herself, mouth set in satisfied smirk.

“Oh, please, Kelly,” she continued. “It’s a big house, but it’s not that big! You didn’t think you could run around in the mid
dle of the night like that without people noticing, did you?”

“Alth
ough that was damnably clever of you, the way you always managed to deposit yourself in Harrison’s arms every time. I truly do admire that. Your timing is incredible. But don’t you think that bit about communicating with Elizabeth was a little over the top?” Kendra asked with an arched brow.

Kelly sputtered, “You think I’ve been making this all up? I can’t believe—”

“You don’t have to pretend with me. I respect your ingenuity, but,” Kendra paused to take a sip of milk, “you’ve got to see that you can’t possibly keep a hoax of that magnitude alive.”

Kelly gritted her teeth. “What if it’s not a hoax, Kendra?”

Kendra laughed. The harsh jangle of the sound made Kelly cringe. “And what if I was the Queen of England? It’s an interesting fantasy. Nothing more.”

Kelly swung slowly around to face Kendra. “Don’t bet on it, Kendra.”

In one swift move, Kendra was off the counter and across the room. She glowered down at Kelly, tension humming through her. A pale blue vein throbbed visibly in her forehead. In a whisper so cold, so full of malice Kelly felt her skin crawl, Kendra said, “I don’t know what you know, or what you think you know, but be careful whom you threaten in this house.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Despite herself, Kelly gulped and took a step backward.

“You don’t?” Kendra advanced another step. “Then let me fill you in on what I know.

“These little games of yours—the dreams and the visions— may have landed you in Harrison’s bed temporarily, but do you really think they can keep you there? You’re not what he needs,
Kelly, not by a long shot.”

“And you are?” Kelly challenged, finally finding her voice again. It felt good to get it out in the open at last.

Kendra shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I do know that at two o’clock in the morning you were standing in the kitchen all alone. And where was he?”

The desperate look of naked longing Kelly had seen in Harrison’s face as he gazed at the portrait of Elizabeth rose in Kelly’s mind. Her head bowed in defeat.

Kendra came close to whisper to Kelly again. “Has he asked you to stay, Kelly? Has he? Or are you intending to remain here until he has to kick you out?”

Kelly had no response.

“He doesn’t love you, Kelly. He can’t. Your work here is done. You’ve had your fun. Why don’t you ... just ... leave.” And with that she was out of the kitchen, swinging door flapping behind her.

Kelly sank down into the ladder
back chair right behind her. Her knees buckled beneath her, rubbery and weak.

She recognized Kendra’s venom for exactly what it was. But even in Kendra’s desperation to get Kelly out of her way, maybe Kendra was...

...still right.

Kelly sank her head in her hands. She thought of Harrison. The tenderness of his touch. The warmth of his lips. Then his terribly ravaged face, its pallor as he looked at the portrait of Elizabeth, his eyes dark hollows of pain. Who was it that he was touching in the night? Whose lips was he really kissing? Hers? Or Elizabeth’s?

And just who was really kissing him back?

Was it the woman who knew the recipe for Dora Jenkins’ orange currant scones? Or was it Kelly herself? Tears squeezed from between Kelly’s tightly compressed eyelids. For a little while, the answer to those questions hadn’t seemed to matter that much. She wished like hell it still didn’t, but deep in the core of her, she knew now that it did. Damn herself anyway for falling in love with the man.

Kelly ran from the kitchen and went to her room to pack.

***

It took Kelly much longer than she’d expected to pack up her supplies. She hadn’t realized how much she’d spread her brushes and paints around Betsy’s room in the past few weeks. Fathering everything together in one spot to put it all back in her cases took over an hour.

Luckily, she told herself, her clothes wouldn’t take nearly as much time. By the time she dragged her suitcase out from under her bed it nearly four o’clock in the morning. If she hur
ried, she’d be able to catch the 6 a.m. ferry back to Seattle before anyone noticed she was gone.

Kelly tossed her suitcase onto the bed and began grabbing things out of the drawers of the dresser to toss them in willy-nilly. She’d have plenty of time to straighten them out back in town ... once she figured out where she was going to go. She hoped Lisa’s offer of a place to stay was still open.

Kelly steamed through the bathroom, gathering up all the bits and pieces she’d left lying around and depositing them into the suitcase. Like a tornado in reverse, she picked up her scattered possessions and piled them together. Her suitcase definitely looked like a tornado had been through it, or at the very least like a volcano had erupted, but Kelly zipped it shut anyway. She dragged it off the bed with a thump.

As she pulled it toward the door, a second thump sounded behind Kelly. She turned.

One of Elizabeth’s sketchbooks lay on the floor by her bed.

Kelly’s brow furrowed. She knew the book hadn’t been in there before she’d left to follow Harrison. She was relatively cer
tain it hadn’t been there when she’d started to pack. Goosebumps crawled up her arms.

The book had landed splayed open, face down on the hard
wood floor. Gingerly, Kelly stooped to pick it up.

Elizabeth’s sketchbook lay open to the sketch of Harrison looking out a cafe window. Kelly’s fingers traced the lines that delineated his stubborn jaw, his high forehead. She knew that look now—the faraway eyes, the composed face. The idea that she might never see it again left her feeling as if her heart was literally breaking in two.

Softly, Kelly shut the book. After a moment’s indecision, she slid it into her big canvas tote bag and left the yellow papered room for the last time.

She dragged all her cases down to the kitchen, scrawled a quick note detailing how to seal and varnish the mural and ending it with an apology to Jenkins before snatching the keys to the old Mercedes station wagon and forcing herself out the door before she could change her mind.

Chapter Fifteen

Outside the night was cold. The wind had whipped up. Kelly’s hair lashed against her face, blinding her momentarily. She stumbled, went down on one knee. Dragging herself back up, she continued on to the car even as the first drops of rain began to fall on her.

“Appropriate,” she grumbled to herself. “I arrived soaked to the skin and it looks like I’ll leave that way as well.”

She hoisted her cases into the back of the wagon and then slid into the front seat, sliding her canvas bag ahead of her on the front bench seat. Doors locked behind her, she sat for a moment, trying desperately to gather herself. Her fingers clutched the wheel, white-knuckled and trembling slightly. Her nerves felt stretched tight, nearly to the breaking point. She drew a deep breath and then another. Beat by beat, her heart slowed until she felt at least a small modicum of self-control again.

The rain had waited until she was safely inside the car before it started in earnest. Within a few seconds, however, seeming bucketsful of water poured over the car’s windshield. Shivering, Kelly started the ignition. She switched on the Benz’s wiper, a single long arm that was a little too easy to anthropomorphize for her own comfort, and cranked the heat up. Cold air blasted into her face and she turned it back down. Teeth chattering, she put the car in gear and started the long roll down the driveway.

She wished she didn’t have to turn the headlights on. She didn’t want to risk anyone seeing her even now, didn’t want the convoluted explanations or drawn-out farewells that it would all necessitate. She just wanted to go. Unfortunately, there was no way she could negotiate the twisting driveway in the dark, especially with the rain coming down in sheets. It was hard enough to see where to steer the car even with the fog lights switched on.

It seemed to take forever as she bumped the wagon down the drive, headlights sweeping against the darkness like a butterfly’s wing against a cheek. Even the high beams didn’t make a dent in the profound darkness of the stormy night, but the heat finally kicked in and Kelly felt her shoulders unhunch almost of their own accord in the comforting warmth.

She reached the gate. Squinching her eyes tight, she said a quick prayer to whatever saints were the patrons of guard gates, and pushed the button on the remote control. The gates swung jerkily open and Kelly pulled the Benz through with a sigh of relief.

She started off slowly, barely going 25 miles per hour. The pavement was wet, the road wound and twisted on the craggy island, and it was terribly dark. The idea of losing control on this isolated and deserted road terrified her, but as she negotiated the turns, the car seemed to hug the road. Kelly pressed down a little harder on the accelerator. At 30 miles per hour, she didn’t press any more. The road crested in front of her, and not knowing what it would do on the other side made her mouth a little dry. Over the high point, the road veered gradually to the left and then began doing its hairpin number again, but the car’s solid bulk and steady handling made Kelly feel safe. She drew a deep breath and picked up speed again.

She was practically going the speed limit of 45 miles per hour when the deer darted out in front of her.

Kelly slammed on the brakes. She felt the nose of the car pull down toward the pavement as she was thrown forward. The back end fishtailed slightly and then corrected. She leaned on the horn, but the deer just stood there. Its liquid eyes, wide and staring, glistened in the glare of her headlights. Kelly stared back. She was only feet away now and still the car skidded on the wet road. She wouldn’t be able to stop in time. There was nothing more she could do. Collision was inevitable. She couldn’t bear it. She squeezed her eyes shut and desperately twisted the wheel.

The Mercedes jumped off the narrow road and down into the gulch that lined it. Trees, bushes and rocks careened by. Before Kelly could adjust, a huge oak loomed up before her. In the split second before the front of the car embedded itself into the tree and the airbag exploded out into her face, Kelly saw the deer race by. Afterward she could never be really sure, but at that moment she would have sworn it wore a piece of yellow chiffon around its neck.

***

It seemed like banging her head was getting to be her new hobby. She hadn’t actually been knocked fully unconscious this time, but almost wished she had. The impact of the airbag in her face hadn’t been pleasant. “Maybe I should take up knitting instead,” Kelly murmured to herself with her eyes still shut. She’d had enough experience over the past few weeks to know she didn’t want to open her eyes too quickly. She wished whomever it was that was banging on the car window and call
ing her name would turn the volume down a little. Her head already throbbed and the racket wasn’t helping.

Slowly, she opened one eyelid. She peered around as best she could without moving her head.

As near as she could tell, nothing was broken. At least on her. She couldn’t see around the air bag to the front of the Mercedes, but she guessed it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight. The thought of explaining what had happened to Harrison was not particularly appealing at the moment. She wondered if she closed her eyes again, maybe she wouldn’t have to. Although on the bright side, it would mean he would actually have to talk to her. Kelly almost smiled, but her mouth hurt too much.

More likely he’d talk to the idiot who was still pounding on her window, begging her to open her door. Kelly wondered however whoever-it-was knew her name. She turned her head slightly and opened the other eye to see who it was and froze.

David Clark, wild-eyed and frantic, practically jumped up and down outside her door.

Kelly tried to open the window, but nothing happened when she pushed the button. Kelly hit the lock button, the doors released and she pushed the driver’s side door open. At least that still worked, she observed ruefully. Looking up at Clark, she said simply, “You again?”

“Are you all right? What happened? Did you lose control of the car?” Clark babbled. He shoved his hands back through hair that was already standing on end. “I saw you go off the roa
d
.
Christ, I thought it would be worse when I heard the crash.”

Kelly swiveled her legs out of the car and planted her feet on the ground, waiting out the wobbly feeling in her knees. “If you saw me go off the road, then you know what happened,” she said testily. “You saw the deer.”

“Deer? What deer?” Clark gave her a blank stare.

“The one on the road. The deer I swerved to avoid hitting. That deer.” Kelly was not amused by whatever little game Clark thought he was playing. If he’d seen what happened then he had to have seen the deer. There was no way lie could have missed it, but she didn’t feel like arguing about the local fauna either. “What the hell are you doing out here anyway, Clark? Skulking in bushes again?”

“No. Not this time.” He shook his head hard enough to send a spray of raindrops flying off his beard. “I was headed up to the Manor to talk to Harrison. I’m going to meet him face to face and get whatever this thing is out in the open if I have to chop the front door down with an axe.”

Kelly arched a brow at him before she cradled her head in her hands. “I’m sure turning his front door into firewood will really put him in a chatting mood.” She tried to get up. Her head swam and she groaned and sat back down.

Clark returned her own sardonic look. “How about you, Ms. Donovan? Just out for a drive on this lovely summer night?”

Kelly glared at him, but didn’t answer.

“Finished your commission?” he continued. “I see your suitcase in back. Is it usual for artists to depart in the middle of the night in their patron’s cars, or are your cases crammed with the St. John family silver? You
are
planning on leaving the car at the ferry’s parking lot, aren’t you?”

“I’m not stealing anything,” Kelly hissed.

Clark’s face collapsed on itself. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Of course you aren’t. I don’t quite know what to do and I’m getting a little testy.”

Kelly snorted in response and rubbed her temples.

He crouched down in front of her, oblivious to the wet ground and the rain pouring down on his head. He looked up into her face. “Kelly, I want to know what Harrison thinks I’ve done that’s so terrible. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. Will you help me?”

She wanted so much to drive away from him, to wash her hands of the whole St. John family and all the nasty little emotional entanglements they represented, but when she looked into David Clark’s blue eyes—bloodshot and crazed as they were—she couldn’t quite make herself do it, and not just because her present vehicle was embedded in a rather large tree. “He knows about you and Elizabeth,” she said quietly.

“What about me and Elizabeth?”

If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn that he was genuinely confused by her answer. She felt no need to be gentle with him though. “Harrison knows that you and Elizabeth were lovers.”

“Lovers?” Clark gasped. “What the hell are you talking about? Elizabeth and I were never lovers.”

“Come on, David. You have nothing to prove to me,” Kelly
said in disgust. His innocent act made her sick. The ruse turned her stomach. “You might as well be honest. It’s not like I’ll ever have a chance to tell Harrison about anything you say to me. I’m out of here, in case you hadn’t guessed.”

“I’m not lying, Kelly. Elizabeth and I were never anything more than friends,” Clark insisted. “Where on earth would he get an idea like that?”

“He found the note you wrote her the night she died.” Kelly watched his face for any sign of guilt or remorse, but saw nothing more than confusion.

“I never wrote her any note the night she died. Hell, I prac
tically never wrote her any notes at all. Why would I?”

“Possibly because it’s tacky to ask a man’s wife to meet you for a secret assignation and gloat over the fact that he’s oblivi
ous to what’s happening around him right in front of his face?” Kelly shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just a guess.”

“Wait a minute. You say this note gloated over the fact he hadn’t noticed anything? What were the exact words?”

“I don’t know. Something about it being delicious that he didn’t suspect anything. Why? Do you want to savor your own prose or something?”

“No. It’s all a misunderstanding.” Clark laughed out loud. “I have to explain to him about when I wrote the note and he’ll understand everything.”

Kelly stared at him, amazed. “You mean you think it’ll be okay with Harrison as long as you weren’t meeting her that night? What difference does it make when your little secret trysts were? You were sleeping with the man’s wife.”

“I wasn’t sleeping with Elizabeth, and it wasn’t a tryst. We were planning a party for Harrison. A surprise party for his for
tieth birthday. It was almost always all three of us together whenever I saw Elizabeth, so it was incredibly difficult to make all the arrangements without slipping each other notes through whatever intermediaries we could find.”

Kelly stared at him blankly. “A surprise party for Harrison?”

“Yeah. A few months before Elizabeth died. It was the last big party we had out at the Manor and, man, it was a doozy. A swing band that played almost all night long. More food and booze than any one house should hold. People sleeping in bathtubs. It was a real hoot, but it was months before Elizabeth’s accident. Harrison’s birthday is in March.”

“Then why did he find the note on her bureau that night? The night she disappeared? It wouldn’t still be sitting out after all that time.”

“How the hell should I know?” Clark responded. He extended his hand down to Kelly to help her up from the car. “What I do know is that if you’ll help get me in to see him, I might be able to clear this whole thing up.”

“I’m not so sure I’ll be able to help you. Harrison hasn’t exactly been giving me the warmest of receptions lately and I did, after all, just total his Mercedes.”

David laughed. “Come on out. It’s not nearly as bad as you think it is. Towing it will probably cost more than the repairs.”

Kelly reached back to grab her bag from off the floor of the car, where it had tumbled when she’d smacked into the tree. As she lifted it, Elizabeth’s sketchbook slipped out. She grabbed that, barely able to hook her finger into its binder to raise it. A piece of paper fluttered onto the seat next to her as she pulled it to her. She didn’t remember any loose pieces in it before. She held it up to the dome light to see what it was and nearly dropped it again. She let out an involuntary gasp.

“What is it, Kelly?” David asked.

“David,” she said slowly, “when you said you used interme
diaries to get notes back and forth, whom exactly did you mean?”

“Betsy sometimes, but we were afraid she’d let the cat out of the bag. The whole thing was too exciting for her. All the secrets, all the plans. Sometimes Dora, but that was tricky, too. She’s not much of a liar. Usually Kendra carried the notes from the office back to the Manor for me. She had moved in a few weeks before. I’d hand her something at the office to take to Elizabeth when she headed to the Manor at night.”

“I think I may have figured out how that note got onto Elizabeth’s dresser all those months later. Take a look at this.” She handed him the note whose words were already burned into her brain.