WB (6 page)

The next was of the same dark haired woman with a tall red haired man. She was in a hospital bed holding a pink, wrinkle faced newborn. The couple looked tired but exhilarated as they smiled at the camera.

More pictures followed, one of a little girl with red hair twisting into little ringlets around her head riding a tiny pink tricycle. The same little girl on a shaggy gray pony and then one of her sitting with a boy with dark hair and a solemn smile on the deck of a sailboat. But it was the last two photographs that broke my heart.

Celia, looking younger, dressed in a pink, lacy bridesmaid gown handing a bouquet to the brilliantly smiling dark haired woman. She was younger than I had ever seen her and her hair was longer, but it was definitely her. I compared her smile to the other woman's, it was the same, the same dimples and dark hair too.

The next picture was of Celia holding the hand of the little red haired girl. Celia's eyes were focused off to the side, like she was looking at someone to the right of the picture. The little girl had a happy smile and was proudly holding up a new dolly to be photographed.

The doll had golden hair gathered into pigtails with tiny white bows, she wore a blue dress with little cherries embroidered on the front and already the dress had a smudge of dirt on the hem.

My finger came out to touch the picture, it was shaking, “My dolly, Lola … I don't understand. Celia is Celeste? That man and woman are my parents?” Tears coursed down my WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 24

face as I turned to look at Gage. There was a terrible pain in my chest and it was hard to breathe.

“Why? Why would Celia take me away from them? What happened? How could she do that to me?” I was shaking and wrapped my arms around myself feeling broken and lost.

Everything I knew about myself was a lie. My whole life was a lie.

Gage's expression was sad and the warm hand he placed on my arm was comforting, “I don't know. I called your mother and brother, they'll be here tomorrow morning. I think your mother will know more about what happened.”

I thought about that for a minute, my parents were alive, I had a brother. I probably had cousins, grandparents even. Maybe other siblings now. My mother had been young enough when she lost me to have other children.

“Why isn't my father coming too?” I turned to him with an inquiring look.

His face was grim and he shook his head, “Your father Lucien, well, he died about five years after you were taken. The stress, it wore him down, he never recovered from the shock.

I'm so sorry Anna, he was a good man.”

I felt a pang of grief at the thought that I would never see him.

“I have a brother? What's his name? How old is he?” I asked through a teary smile.

Having a brother was a cheery thought and in my sad state I clung to the thought of him gratefully.

Gage smiled back at me and pushed some of the photos to the side and showed me the picture of the little boy sitting with me on the deck of a boat, “His name is Laurent, he's four, almost five years older than you.”

I studied the photograph and looked for clues to my heritage. Did we have the same nose, the same shaped eyes? Laurent looked more like his mother than I did. I felt weird thinking that phrase, my mother. My mother Helene was alive. I had a big brother too, it was almost too much to take in.

“Where do they live?” I asked with an interested look at Gage. I had an insane urge to hug him and thank him for finding me that was at odds with my horrified feelings about being kidnapped and not having any of this explained to me earlier.

Why not just tell me about my family in Portland? I would have come with him willingly then. Plus the weird dreams about him still had me on edge. What the hell were they about?

But with an effort I pushed those thoughts aside and tried to think about something else.

Naturally, I focused on Celia, but thinking about her made me want to curl up in bed and howl in misery. I knew I would have to face it later, but for now, I just needed to make it through the night.

Unwillingly, my mind strayed to the first part of his story, the marriage contract. But it was too ridiculous to linger on, who arranged marriages for babies anymore? Stuff like that went out with whalebone corsets and trepanning in the eighteenth century. I wasn't even sure that people did that then, maybe royal families, but not normal people. Not accountant’s daughters. Although, since Celia lied about my parents being dead, maybe she lied about that too. They could be circus performers or dentists for all I knew.

“They live in Paris. They're driving over early tomorrow morning.”

“Paris, France? But how could they get from Paris to … wait a minute … where am I?”

I asked with a suspicious glance around the room. As if there was some obvious clue in here to my whereabouts that I had somehow overlooked.

“My country house, about an hour outside of London.” Gage said with an encouraging WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 25

smile. He was all easy smiles and friendliness now that I believed him about my parents and for some strange reason I felt myself getting angry about it. This was serious, damnit!

“London! London, England? Oh, but I don't even have a passport! How did I get here?

I could be in a lot of trouble coming into the country without one. You could be in trouble for bringing me here!” I was really mad now. On top of all this I was a criminal now. An illegal alien or something like that.

“You don't have to worry about that, your mother likely has your passport. Your family did a lot of traveling when you were a child.” He said in an arrogant way that had me gritting my teeth. As if there was nothing to worry about and no reason to be upset. How presumptuous and rude of him! I was starting to not like him again.

Like a child with too many toys to choose from, my thoughts swung back to my newly found family. I wondered how I was going to get used to being called by a different name and if I would be able to call my mother, mother. Would they like me? What if I disappointed them?

What if they didn't speak English! What if they didn't remember me? What if I didn't remember them? My head ached at the number of thoughts racing through my mind.

“This is a lot for you to adjust to,” he flicked a look at the silver watch on his wrist, “It's getting late. You should try to get some rest. Helene and Laurent will be here at about ten in the morning.”

I turned to walk out of the room, my thoughts in turmoil. He followed me up the stairs and pointed me in the right direction when I got a little turned around at the third floor.

An awkward silence filled the space when we stopped outside of my room. I stuck my hand out to shake his, “Thank you for reuniting me with my family” I said in a formal way wondering if I was handling this wrong.

What do you say to the man that found you and made sure you met your people? Was there a reward still? Would he claim it tomorrow from my family? Oh, this was so confusing, I just wanted a little box where I could stow my questions to be dealt with later.

His hand was warm and engulfed my much smaller one as he shook it slowly. I looked down at our entwined hands and shivered at the way he didn't relinquish mine and instead placed his other hand on top of our clasped ones. His thumb slowly rubbed my palm and the touch was too personal in a way I couldn't define.

“My pleasure,” he gave me a rakish smile and leaned forward staring at my lips. With a start of surprise I realized he was going to kiss me. Even more surprising, I wanted him to.

I saw his head approaching and I stood still, my eyes wide as he got closer and closer.

His mouth curved into a self satisfied grin and his eyes were locked onto mine as he got ready to touch my lips. In a last minute move, I turned my face aside so that his kiss landed on my cheek instead of my mouth as he intended.

His smile had turned grim, while mine was wide as I said, “Well goodnight then,” and walked into my bedroom and shut the door in his surprised face.

WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 26

My sleep was fractured and restless. I had another dream of Gage, this time of him reading a book in the library while nursing a large mug of coffee. Unlike my other dreams, this time there was a realism to it that I hadn't realized was missing from all the others. Now, I could smell his spicy aftershave and feel the warmth of the coffee through the crockery mug he was cradling. I could hear the crisp crinkle of pages turning as he read a mind numbing book on maritime law.

After a few minutes of reading over his shoulder about the exciting world of liens and salvage rights I felt terrible, like I was spying on him. Not to mention that I was bored to tears, so I tried something I had never done before. I decided to will myself back into my body. I imagined my body lying in bed upstairs. I pictured the orange silk bedding, the way the sheets felt against my skin and thought about the softness of the pillows my head was resting on. When that didn't work I concentrated on one hand. I imagined moving that hand, then just the fingers on one hand and waking myself up.

This was a lot harder than it sounds, but finally I managed it and with a twitch of my fingers, I woke up suddenly. I was in bed, with the sheets and blankets tangled around me. I was shaking from the effort of returning to wakefulness so soon and there was a slight ache in my head from trying so hard to get back from, what I now believed, was an out of body experience.

After pulling the sheets and blankets back around me I tried to get comfortable again and go back to sleep. After about ten minutes of pillow plumping and rolling from one side of the bed to the other, I realized that my mind was running a mile a minute with all the questions I had for my mother, brother, Gage and even Celia. There was no way I could get back to sleep with this much chaos in my head.

I felt a frown tugging at me as I tried to remember something important, something, that I had, for some strange reason forgotten. I rolled onto my right side, punched my pillow into shape and closed my eyes determined to get a few hours rest before meeting my mother and brother for the first time tomorrow.

Maybe if I just closed my eyes and relaxed that would be enough to fool my body into thinking it had had a full nights rest. I didn't want to look like a baggy eyed monster tomorrow morning. I wanted them to like me. I was sure I would like them, they were probably really nice. They wouldn't be awful and rude, like … Lillian.

Shit!

My job!

Oh holy hell!

If Gage was right and I had been here two days that meant I'd missed work on Tuesday and Wednesday. I was supposed to assist Lillian in court on Tuesday. Missing court was beyond inexcusable. Two days without a call or email, I moaned in dismay. Even if I had called in sick on a court day, Lillian would have gone nuclear.

Lillian liked me to be in court with her. I never could figure out why, except that she WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 27

liked having an assistant trotting alongside carrying her briefcase. Mostly I just sat quietly during hearings daydreaming and looking serious. Sometimes I handed her a glass of water or a pen. There wasn't anything else for me to do and since she didn't practice criminal or family law, the hearings we went to were pretty dull.

I reached out and fumbled around the nightstand trying to reach the switch on the lamp.

My hands fumbled a bit in the darkness before finding the old fashioned pull chain on the lamp and I gave it a tug. The light came on and blinded me momentarily. I squinted in the sudden whiteness and saw that the clock read just after midnight.

What should I do? My mind raced and I felt anxious and scared again. I could tell them I was in a car accident and spent the last two days unconscious. A mental breakdown and amnesia? I could call the Employee Assistance Representative and plead a blackout and alcoholism. If anyone knew what it was like to work for Lillian, they would know that drinking was the least you could do to numb yourself to the forty hours a week spent in hell with her.

Was it too late (or too early) to try and get a hold of Patty? My thoughts were fuzzy as I tried to do the time conversion between Portland and London. New York was five hours difference from London (or was it seven?) add three hours difference between the Eastern and Western time zones which meant it was five pm in Portland? Or was that five am? Eight am?

Arrgh, I was so tired it was hard to think straight. Oh, well, Patty was a night owl anyway.

There was no phone in the bedroom and so I quickly pulled the soft terrycloth robe I found on a hook on the back of the bathroom door over the long cotton nightshirt I found spread out on the bed when I got back from dinner with Gage. Things were super creepy here, with invisible staff and mysteriously appearing nightwear, but I tried not to think about that and focused on the pleasure of having something clean to wear that I hadn't slept in for two days.

I opened the door and stepped quickly through the doorway. With a screech of alarm I fell over a large muscled lump that had been sitting on the floor in front of my bedroom door. I heard a deep, masculine grunt and a thud as my elbow cracked painfully against the edge of a table that had been sitting against the wall.

The table fell over as well as the delicate, glass shaded lamp sitting on top of it. The reverberations of the glass shattering spread like a pebble in a pond and I wondered that no one came running to find out what all the racket was for.

The lump on the floor cursed quietly and I was frozen in place wondering which way to go. The hallway was dark now. I could see a distant glow of light coming from the direction of the staircase and I tried to walk that way and screamed when a hand grabbed my ankle and I felt myself being pulled quickly backwards and to the side. Red glowing eyes leaned in close.