Raquel Byrnes (13 page)

“Lavender?” I crept forward. “Honey, we have to go inside for a bit.” Noticing the line of black powder at the gate, I carefully stepped over it. I wondered who had restored it after I smudged it earlier. “Lala? Want to come and have a tea party with me?”

The wind picked up, sending wispy dandelion fluff across my vision. A flash of movement, further now.

She turned, her raven hair blowing across her face as she giggled.

“Catch me,” she shouted happily and skidded behind a headstone. Her pink ribbons whirled as she darted between crumbling statues.

“No, Lavender,” I called and followed her through the weeds and high grasses. “It’s not safe out here.” Attempting to slip along the perimeter, my skirt hung up on a rusty section of the iron fence, yanking me to a stop. Frustrated, I ripped it free, losing ground as Lavender pushed through the far gate and into the woods.

“Come back!”

“Lucien says you’re ‘it’, Rosie,” she called back and slipped farther from my view.

“Lavender!”

She was heading in the direction O’Shay had come.

Remembering the blood on him, I gasped. Panic welled. I pulled off my flip-flops and ran, ignoring the painful jabs of the rocks under my feet. “Stop, Lala! Wait!”

Her voice echoed through the trees, further than I thought. Not seeing her, I stopped, trying to judge the direction. I couldn’t tell where she’d run to. The thick canopy overhead blocked what little sunlight penetrated the cloud cover, making it difficult to see farther than a few yards. Picking my way along a blanket of fallen pine needles, I called and listened. No answer. In the distance to my right, a warbling shriek and then something flew at the trees overhead. Screaming, I ducked as a section of branch crashed near me. Did something throw that, or was it knocked by the wind?

“Lavender,” I yelled, my voice cracking as I backed up to a nearby trunk. “This is important. There’s something out here.”

A flash of light streaked across the trunks, sunlight off a window, and I remembered the greenhouse. Sprinting, I stepped wrong, tumbled to my hands and knees and cried out. Pulling to my feet, I kept going. Behind me, the shriek sent ripples of terror thrumming as I ran faster. There. A few yards ahead, the metal and glass of the greenhouse reflected the afternoon light back into my eyes. I crashed through the tall grass at the edge of the woods and grabbed the door.

“Lavender,” I yelled as I yanked it open.

A man turned, with fear on his face as he held Lavender’s hand in his filthy one.

Coming up short, I gasped.

“Rosie!” Lavender said with glee when she saw me.

“Let go of her!” I dove for the shears on the table, holding them in front of me like a sword.

The man, with the dark features and dress of the village gypsies, let go. Hands up in surrender, he flattened against the windows.

“Rosie,” Lavender said with shock. “This is Josif. He’s Daddy’s friend.”

Blinking, I focused on his face. He did look familiar.

“Come here, honey,” I coaxed. “Stand next to me, OK?”

Lavender sighed and walked over. “Lucien thinks you’re being silly,” she murmured, but took my hand.

“What are you doing?” I motioned with the shears. “Why are you lurking around here?”

Josif held my gaze, his eyes so dark I couldn’t see his pupils.

Another screech sounded, far away now.

I trembled, the shears wavering.

Fear flitted across his features and he looked past me, outside.

“Please,” he said in a low voice. Sweat along his brow dripped onto the parched boards as he pointed outside. “I am not the one who should frighten you. Your voice will bring danger. Please, you and I have met before. At the cottage.” His gaze shot to Lavender, and he made a pleading gesture, the same one he’d used with Simon in the woods. He’d been helping with the museum shipment, and later I’d seen him arguing with Simon in the woods.

Licking my lips, I felt Lavender’s arms go around my waist, her head on my hip. She looked up with worry.

“He’s Daddy’s friend, Rosie. Please don’t hurt him.” Her plea deflated my fear, and I lowered the shears, heart still hammering.

Josif relaxed his stance and put a hand on his chest. “I mean no harm to either of you, but she should not be in the woods alone. She might encounter”—He gave me a strange look—“things that should be avoided.”

“Do you know what made that noise?” I asked, setting the shears on the work table.

“
Dihanie
,” Josif uttered. “A beast.”

“A what?” I asked, shocked. “What do you mean, ‘a beast’?”

“Fratele Hale.” He edged toward the door, peered out, and looked at me. “Where is he?”

“He means Daddy,” Lavender said. “Fratele means brother, right, Josif?”

“That’s right. Where is he?” Josif squatted down to her level, his expression softening. “Do you know, little one?”

Lavender shook her head, her dark curls bobbing.

I reached down, tied a wayward ribbon back into a bow, and smoothed her hair, feeling the need to keep her close.

Josif rested his gaze on me. “You are bleeding.”

“What?” I looked down. My right foot made a red smear on the floor. Dropping my flip-flops, I eased my feet into them. “It’s just a cut from running.”

Josif’s gaze went from me to Lavender and back. “I see.”

“This thing…the
dihanie
,” I said, shifting to avoid standing on my injured heel. “Is it an animal?”

“Not an animal. Anguish.”

“What?”

“Come, let us walk,” Josif said, ignoring my question and stepping out the door.

I followed him, Lavender’s hand in mine. As soon as we stepped out of the greenhouse, she shot ahead of us.

“Lavender, no, wait for us—”

“Let her go,” Josif said and looked over his shoulder to the woods. “We are putting distance between us. This is good.” He turned away from the forest, away from Shadow Bay Hall.

“Where are we going?”

“Another way. Not through the trees.”

We walked in silence. The way was easy, and I was grateful to not have to climb with my sore foot. He took us along the perimeter of the meadow and tree line, along a route I realized was parallel to the main road. The shield of the forest was gone; the wind blew at our backs. A weak sun peeked through puffy clouds. I hadn’t seen this part of the island before. We walked at an incline, the rich dirt turning to sandy gravel. I noticed the flora was less dense here, more of the sun-loving variety.

“I’m sorry about the shears,” I said after a while. “I didn’t recognize you.”

“You were worried for the girl.” Josif nodded as if that were reason enough. “I must speak to Simon.”

“Mrs. Tuttle said he left with the supply plane,” I explained. Glancing sideways at Josif, I hesitated, but curiosity got the better of me. “What were you and Simon arguing about the other day?”

“In the woods?”

“There was more than one time?”

His lip pulled up at the corner, almost a smile. “Not arguing…discussion.”

“Loud one,” I countered. “He looked angry.”

“Frustration.” Josif bent, picked up a pebble, and threw it ahead of us.

Lavender, who’d dropped back to walk with us, copied him.

“He did not want the village or his father to know.”

“Know what?” I wondered what secret Simon harbored behind those sorrowful eyes.

“The money for the repairs. The ferry dock, the bridge…damages from the storm. It all comes from Simon, but he did not want certain people to know this.”

“They don’t like him.” I remembered Nalla’s reaction to my mentioning Simon’s name.

“They don’t know him.”

“His wife.”

“Her death has caused…” Josif took in a breath, his expression sad. “I don’t know how to say.”

“Problems,” I offered.

He nodded. “Many believe that Simon had a hand in his wife’s death.” His gaze held mine. “Not all think this of him, but enough do. You understand?”

Stunned, Josif’s words hit me. Simon might be involved in his wife’s death? But how? Nalla’s angry words came back to me.

Not an accident
.

I understood being hated. I understood it completely, but this?

Josif’s voice tore me from my thoughts. “So you see why Simon does not want others to know. The gypsy are a proud people. If they knew, they would refuse and our island…” Josif sighed “We need Simon.”

“Yes,” I said. “But why would he want to hide it from his father?”

“Davenport does not have Simon’s regard for us.” Anger flitted across his features as he said it. He hurled another rock at the ground.

“Oh.” Up ahead I spied an aloe plant. “Lavender, lets collect some of this for your grandfather.”

“Will he eat it?” She wrinkled her nose but came over to watch me snap a frond off.

“No, but we can make an emulsion for him.”

“A mushen?” Lavender tried.

“Emulsion. Like a cream for his dry skin,” I said and ruffled her curls. “I’ll show you how to make it when we get back. Want to hold the pieces?”

She nodded, took the pieces, and dropped them in the pocket of her dress.

Josif and I walked without talking, the ground crunching under our feet and Lavender’s constant babble to her imaginary friend the only sound other than the rustling of the trees.

Far enough from the forest to relax, I studied Josif. Dark hair, wavy and thick over a clearly eastern European face, he seemed both foreign and from another era. His clothes looked hand stitched; the brown vest he wore was threaded with red swirling designs. Little silver beads dangled from a braid of yarn peeking out of his pocket. They were the same beads I’d seen on Nalla’s shawl, and I wondered if he knew her.

“Should we be walking out in the open like this?” I asked and looked over my shoulder.

“The forest hides the danger.” He shook his head. “We are fine.”

“Then what—”

He pointed. “There. Do you smell it?”

“Sea air.” I tilted my head. “And waves.”

The thunder of swells against jagged rocks sounded loud.

“Yes, we are at the cliffs,” Josif explained. “Do you know this place?”

“No.” I vaguely remembered Davenport saying something about cliffs but couldn’t quite recall what.

The tall grasses thinned to a mat of ground cover ivy, and I looked across the ocean from the edge of a cliff more than fifty feet up. Warm, salty air ruffled my skirt and hair, the feel of it so like the beaches back home that I felt a pang of longing.

Lavender sat in a cluster of daisies, her hair full of the yellow blooms as she picked and shoved them in her curls.

“This…this is beautiful,” I whispered and stepped to the edge, peering down.

Waves pummeled the craggy rocks below, their white foam spraying up in bursts. Sunlight arced through the droplets flashing rainbows across the white sands. Had I dreamt of a place to capture my heart, this would be it.

Josif moved next to me, his hand going out. “This is good view, but tread with care.” He eased me back a step.

“It’s fine,” I started, but his gaze went to Lavender, and it was then that Davenport’s words came to me. Lavender’s mother had died from a fall. “What is this place’s name?”

“Echo Cliffs,” he whispered.

Lavender sat talking happily to the thin air. Looking up, she smiled. “Lucien says he wants to go down to the sand.”

It struck me odd that she expressed no fear or sadness at being here. Maybe she didn’t know where her mother died. Why would she? Unless she was there when it happened, why burden her with it? I thought about the house. No photographs anywhere of her mother.
No, they would not have told her.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I promised. “We’ll bring things to dig with and maybe have a picnic?”

Lavender squealed and clapped. She ran to me, wrapping my waist in a hug. I put my hand on her head. It was warm from the sun.

“Take that way home,” Josif urged and pointed to our left. A dirt path wound down to the beach. “The village is around the curve of the cliff below. You can take my cart. Your feet must pain you. I will come to get it later.”

I nodded, my gaze locking with his. “We’ll be safe?”

“The deep forest is not,” he said, with a thoughtful expression. “But the sea is always a safe place for the gypsy.”

“But I’m not a gypsy,” I said.

Nodding at Lavender, he turned to leave. “She is.”

15

Simon

Heaving his sack over the side of the boat, Simon leapt onto the dock. Workers nailing new boards onto the listing structure looked up at him. A few nodded. Most didn’t.

“Fratele,” Josif called out to him and pulled a golf cart to a stop on the road.

Raising a hand to his friend, Simon swung the sack over his shoulder and walked up, settling in the seat next to Josif.

“They’ve made a lot of progress.” Simon nodded to the workers. “Any problems?”

“Not with the repairs.” Josif pulled away and back onto the road. “But there is something else.”

“We can talk soon,” Simon said and rubbed his face, tired. “Lala?”

“She’s fine. Playing on the beach with your Rosetta.”

Simon glanced sideways at Josif but didn’t comment on his choice of words. “The beach, really?”

“For two days now, they go and eat and build with the sand. Your father even joins them.” Josif shook his head and chuckled. “She tried to stab me.”

“What?” Simon said, alarmed. “Rosetta did?”

“In the greenhouse,” Josif said and described the encounter. “She tore up her feet chasing after Lavender when she thought there was danger. That’s something—”

“They’re fond of each other.” Simon flashed on Lala and Rosetta as he’d seen them earlier at tea while his father slept nearby. She made his daughter smile. She made her laugh again. The feel of Rosetta in his arms, so close and yet not within his reach, came back to him. He had no right to seek after her and yet he found no way to stop his reaction. Not even the solitude of the sea could keep his thoughts from her.

“She is good, for both of you,” Josif said

“Was she right? Was there danger?” Simon asked, avoiding the comment.