Raquel Byrnes (18 page)

“Rosetta,” Phillip called from a shop on the opposite side of the street. He ran over, shielding his head from the rain with a newspaper.

“Where did you disappear to this morning?” I asked.

“I went to find Simon. I thought he might want to know the sheriff was calling, but I couldn’t find him. Did you just come down here for a stroll or—”

“Oh, no. I’m here for some more tea at the apothecary and maybe a sweater.”

Phillip eyed the door of the shop behind me. “Well, I have a few things to do as well, but what say you we meet up at
Mănâncă
for a bite, say in an hour?”

“Is that a restaurant?”

“Yes, but it’s not on this street.” He pointed down the cobblestone way. “See that last group of stores? If you turn the corner just after them, the road will take you right past. You can take the golf cart in case it rains, but it’s not far.”

“Oh, OK…in an hour.”

“Yes, see you then,” he said and was off, strolling back across the street in the rain.

Had I just accepted a dinner invitation with Simon’s cousin?

The apothecary’s door jangled open, and I held it for a couple before walking in. Nalla looked up, her smile faltering when she saw me.

“I just want tea,” I said and held out the pouch from my first visit. “And to pay for the tea I took with me last time.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

The calm of her voice surprised me, and I ventured further into the store. “Just the valerian root today,” I said.

A gypsy woman, bent by age, hovered near a row of bowls near the rear of the shop picking at the contents. Nalla put her hand out palm up as she rounded the counter. I dropped the sachet into her palm. Her gaze went to my slippered feet, but she didn’t say anything. Instead she nodded towards the jars of herbs in back, and I followed her.

“You may want some balm of Gilead for your feet,” she said over her shoulder. “Josif told me you have cuts. The balm will be good for the inflammation. Maybe some graperoot to fight infection.”

“Is he related to you?” I leaned on the rear counter as she pulled out the scale. “These silk shoes, they have the same design embroidered as his vest.”

“He is my cousin,” Nalla said and scooped the root into the sachet. Reaching underneath the counter, she pulled out a small brown bottle and set it in front of me. “My cousin said that you threatened to cut him to ribbons to protect our Lala. Do you fancy yourself her protector now?” Her glare was cold, challenging.

“I just…” Then I realized she’d used Lavender’s pet name. “Who is Lala to you?”

“She is my niece,” Nalla said with a scowl. “Amanna was my sister. We were born together. Why do you care who the child is to me?”

“Just curious,” I muttered. Twins. Their striking resemblance made sense now. Looking through the photo album from the library, I’d mistaken Nalla for Amanna at first. Nalla and Amanna, Lavender and Lucien; twins must run in the family.

“Well, thank you for the balm.” I turned to leave. My presence was clearly bothering her.

“Rosetta.”

I turned back, worried about another outburst.

“They don’t survive. All of them die before their time,” she whispered. Her gaze flitted to the old woman customer near the door.

“Who?”

“The women of Shadow Bay.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I don’t know for our Lala, but her mother…”

“I don’t understand, Nalla.”

“You know about Simon’s mother. How she is fine one day, and dead the next.”

“But I thought a fever—”

“A fever, what is a fever?” Nalla waved her hand dismissively. “This happens just days after she says she will cut off his money?”

“How do you know that?” I demanded. “How would you even learn about—”

“My sister told me,” Nalla snapped. “Simon’s mother refuses him permission to marry Amanna, and within a week his mother is dead?”

“What?” Alarm rocked through me. Was all this true?

Her hands shot out, clasped mine with a deadly grip. “I know he is a man that you cannot behold without wanting, but take care, Rosetta. There is deep darkness in Simon Hale. Danger you don’t see until it’s too late.”

“But Josif…” I pulled my hands from hers.

“Josif loves Simon like a brother. He is blinded by too many years, but I
know
.” She took in a slow breath and then blew out a sad sigh. “He is not only what you see. There’s fire in his blood. Josif told me. Simon learned how to kill, how to become the shadows so you don’t see him coming. He gets what he wants regardless of the cost, Rosetta. Remember this.”

“I—I have to go.” Putting money on the counter, I tried to keep my hands from shaking. I stumbled out of the store, worry wracking my thoughts.

The images of Simon on that jungle shore, his face bloody, and Simon with Lavender; cradling her, flashed in my mind. I shook my head, confused. Which was the real man? Could there be only one? Could the dual parts of his heart exist together?

Walking to the post office, I collected Davenport’s book. The postmaster handed me a letter. It was the one I’d sent to my mother earlier. She’d returned it unopened and written ‘Return to Sender’ in her flowing script. My breath caught with the blow of her refusal to even read what I written.

I knew the risk to my heart when I decided to follow You, Lord, but I don’t know if I have the strength for any more blows to my faith. I just…I’m so tired.

A singular thought resonated within. The verse from Isaiah that I’d turned to during my father’s trial, when the pressure from all those around me was to give in; to lie.

Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of My righteousness.

I held the letter to my chest. My throat ached with so much loss I had trouble taking in a breath. I ran my finger along the indentation her words made on the envelope.

I felt lost on this strange island. Weird occurrences, unfriendly locals, and now dire warnings about Simon made me feel tossed about like a paper cup in a tempest. I repeated the verse to myself in a silent prayer, hoping with all my heart that the strength my God promised would come soon.

****

We sat in the restaurant near the windows. Darkly lit with red votive candles, violin music from the musician up front wafted along the clusters of softly speaking customers. The owners had adorned the walls with costumes from Romania and it occurred to me that the Romani people on Noble were actually from Romania. Lush velvet bodices and silken skirts with gold embroidery hung next to mounted accordions. Old world charm mingled with succulent scents of grilled meat and rich sauces. It was a place I would have loved to be at with Simon. At least until an hour ago. Now I wasn’t sure what I wanted or what I thought about him.

“Well, the Hales and the gypsies of Noble Island have a long history of bad blood,” Phillip said and shrugged. “I don’t see that ending very soon.”

The waitress brought our dinners, a wonderful smelling meat stew.

“
Tocanita
,” she said. “Sorry you had to wait so long, Mr. Cotropi. But the boat took two weeks to get the herbs and spices to us.”

“I’m sure it’s amazing,” Phillip said and smiled, dismissing her.

“I don’t understand,” I continued once she was gone. “Is it just a cultural difference? A haves and have nots situation, or is there an actual reason?”

“The gypsies of Noble Island were banished here. There’s some sort of legend that explains why, but suffice it to say that they fell afoul of the Romanian government. After that, they ran amok all over this rock until it was settled by fur traders in the late eighteen hundreds, and that’s when the trouble began. The U.S. government didn’t recognize any ownership by the gypsy clans and sold off pieces of Noble to families like the Hales. There’s still a lot of resentment here.” Phillip took a sip of his water, cracked some ice between his teeth, and smiled at me. “Why are you taking Nalla so seriously?”

“She was so angry, so sure Simon was this…this evil person.”

“Don’t let it bother you,” Phillip said and bit on a bread stick. “This is a small community. Most people haven’t even heard of Noble Island. With generations of families living so closely together, there’s bound to be friction.”

He smiled, and I found myself smiling back.

Phillip had a way of making things seem less earthshattering.

“But is it true about Simon and his mother?”

“I wasn’t here,” he said and shrugged. “But she was in frail health to begin with. That is why Davenport stayed home. What does it matter what Nalla thinks? For all we know, she’s pickled her brain working with all those herbs and spices day in and day out.”

“She’s not just a random villager; she’s Amanna’s sister.” I looked out the window at the rain splattering on the cobblestones and roofs and sighed. I didn’t know what to think about Nalla’s warnings. “I just don’t see it in him.”

“Look,” Phillip said, taking my hand and patting it. “Don’t get so caught up in all the secrets and lies here. It’d take years to unravel them all.”

“There’s more?” My heart sank. “What is Simon accused of now?”

“Not Simon, Tuttle,” Phillip said with a chuckle. He glanced around the room and leaned forward. “Tuttle had a daughter that Simon was seeing when they were teens. A pretty young thing. Redhead with freckles. Her name was Susan. Everyone thought they’d end up together, you know, married, but along comes Amanna and
that
was over.”

“Tuttle has a daughter?” I had trouble seeing her as a mother. “Where is she now?”

“Died. Car accident or something on the other side of the island almost a year after Simon broke up with her.” Phillip smiled at the approaching waiter but waved him away. “Nasty business. She wouldn’t leave Simon alone. Kept showing up at Shadow Bay Hall. She said she was visiting Tuttle, but…” He shook his head. “So when Amanna moves into the house, you know, after they are married, Tuttle loses her mind. Refuses to wait on her, ‘loses’ her things, sabotages special days, that sort of thing. Tuttle hated Amanna. If anyone wished her ill, it was that woman. I heard that Amanna meant to fire Tuttle the week she disappeared. Seems like Tuttle got lucky in that respect.”

“Why would Tuttle even stay?” I asked. “I mean if it was my daughter, I’d bolt.”

“Tuttle has a son in some sort of expensive school,” Phillip said, gesturing with his fork. “The Hales pay for it. Simon’s mother and Tuttle were friends, and she set up a grant for Tuttle’s kid for as long as Tuttle is employed by the Hales. If she stays, it’s paid for even after she retires. With her husband gone, it makes sense to take advantage of that offer.”

“What kind of school is worth the heartache of all that?”

Phillip shrugged, finished his breadstick and sat back in his chair. He smiled at me. “You’re not getting the point, Rosie,” he said. “I wanted to show you that rumors and ill will abound here, and it’s not just for Simon. Even the sheriff had his brush with the Hales. He and Simon fought constantly in high school. Levine was always so jealous of him. Despite all of that history, Simon is a good guy. Always has been.”

I tried to believe him. Tried to brush Nalla’s words away with Phillip’s simple explanations. The trouble was, it appeared that Simon was connected to three women who died on Noble Island—his mother, his girlfriend, and his wife. That all seemed way too strange to be a coincidence. I had to talk to Simon.

“Do you mind if I order a piece of cake? I thought maybe Lavender might like it.”

“That’s a great idea,” Phillip said and smiled. He got up. “I’ll go and have them box a whole cake to take back. Would that cheer you up?”

“I believe chocolate always cheers me up,” I said and smiled back, though my heart wasn’t in it.

He went to speak to the kitchen staff, and I gathered my things. At the front of the restaurant, by the doors, I caught a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye.

Simon stood talking with Josif in the rain near the corner. The pelting drops and din of conversation drowned out their words, but I could tell Simon was upset. Drenched, his white shirt clung to his arms and chest, highlighting his muscled frame. I did not doubt that Simon was a formidable man, but could he really be truly dangerous to know?

Phillip pushed through the door, the cake in one arm, his other hand at the small of my back. We sent the bells hanging overhead jangling.

Simon turned, our gazes locked, and then his look shifted to Phillip. Turning away, he strode around the corner of the building out of sight.

Josif turned to me, his lips pressed thin.

“Josif,” I called, but he followed after Simon.

Phillip looked at me with a smile, seemingly oblivious. He’d been talking with a couple that passed us at the door.

“Shall we?”

“I think it’s letting up.” I nodded to the golf cart. “Do you want a lift back to the house?”

“It’s early yet, Rosie. I’m going to meet a friend of mine over at the tavern. You’re welcome to come.”

“No, thank you, but—”

“Not your type of scene. I got it.” He walked with me to the cart, helped me in and secured the cake box in the covered crate that served as a small trunk. “See you soon, then?”

“Thank you for dinner.”

“Don’t let the ghosts of this old island upset you.” He pecked me on the forehead. “And don’t get any ideas about Simon. At least, not based on the rumors.” He winked and walked back down the road.

I watched him leave, the streetlamps illuminating the drizzle as the sun settled lower on the horizon. Starting down the darkening road, a shudder of apprehension ran through me. How much did I know about the Hales after all?

22

Simon

Simon strode with Josif along the south path, a route that would take them along Echo Cliffs to his workshop the back way. Dark ocean waves beat against jagged rocks far below them.

Josif had wished to speak with him since he’d come back from his trip, and Simon could sense the tension in his friend.