Hallow House - Part Two (13 page)

BOOK: Hallow House - Part Two
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"Samara was a WAVE," Aunt Adele said to him. "I forget what the initials stand for, but she was in the Navy." Turning to Samara, she added, "Kevin talks as if he was the only one to fight in the war, so I make a point of telling him about others I know of." She shook her finger at the doctor. "Vincent didn't even come back, if you remember."

 

"Sometimes I think that might be best," Kevin Cannon said quietly.

 

"I will not tolerate you being morbid." Aunt Adele's voice was sharp. "If there still were not work on earth for you to do, you would not have been spared. Do you realize you have not so much as listened to my heart today?"

 

Kevin grinned at the old lady as he bent over her, stethoscope in hand. Watching, Samara realized that anyone looking at him from his right side wouldn't see the scars.

 

"I have been allowing Kevin to read Tabitha's journals," Adele told her as he finished and began to stow his stethoscope in his black bag. "He finds them fascinating. I fail to understand why you have shown no interest the history of the Gregory family."

 

"I'd rather not look into it," Samara said. To her Tabitha represented the horror of the room with the black door.

 

"You haven't introduced me to the young lady," Dr. Cannon said to Adele.

 

"My apologies. "This is John's oldest daughter, Samara. And, Samara, if you have a brain in your head, you will see Kevin Cannon is worth a hundred Mark Schroeders."

 

Samara, flushing, wanted to die on the spot, but the doctor apparently took it in stride.

 

"I hope you'll call me Kevin like your sister Johanna does," he said. "I prefer not to be Dr. Cannon all the time."

 

"How do you do, Kevin," Samara said stiffly, scarlet with embarrassment. Ninety or not, how could Aunt Adele be so tactless?

 

He left the rooms with her and side by side they walked down the stairs, Samara searching frantically for something to say.

 

She finally came up with, "Were you in the Navy, too?"

 

"No. Army. Italy."

 

"I didn't get out of the Sates," she admitted. Out of politeness, she accompanied him as far as the front door.

 

"Have you ever been in the room?" he asked with his hand on the doorknob. "Tabitha's room?"

 

She stared at his eyes, hard and green as jade, watching her from his ruined face.

 

"Once," she managed to say.

 

"I'd like to see the inside sometime."

 

She shook her head, unable to speak. "No," she whispered at last. "It's locked forever."

 

Chapter 28

 

 

 

As the days passed, Samara was able to accept Brian as his own person. His resemblance to her brother was only superficial, he was nothing like Sergei. His closeness to Johanna touched her heart because he accepted the girl's devotion without trying to dominate her.

 

"It's a good thing Marie brought me here," he said to Samara one bright December morning as they approached the stable together.

 

"Why?"

 

"Johanna needed a special friend."

 

"She has me," Samara pointed out. "And the twins."

 

"Yeah, but you're too old, even if you are nice," he told her. "And the twins like each other better than they do anyone else. But now I'm here and so there's two of us, Johanna and me, just like there's two of the twins. That makes it all right."

 

She couldn't argue with his logic. "What about you?" she asked. "What do you need?"

 

Brian's blue eyes met hers. "I needed to belong someplace. We always moved."

 

Since she didn't want to discuss that, Samara said, "Right now what you need is to take another riding lesson. Saddle up, see if you remember what I've taught you."

 

He hadn't forgotten a thing, this intelligent, active and handsome boy she was beginning to like better each day. The children’s tutor. Corinne Olmstead, was a different breed of cat. Though Samara tried her best to be friendly to the children's tutor, she plain didn't care for Corinne. The woman was striking with her red hair and light hazel eyes, but unfortunately seemed too aware of it. She dressed to perfection and had raised her eyebrows more than once over Samara's disinterest in the current fashions.

 

Samara knew she might not look her best in the old clothes she wore much of the time--her jodhpurs were really ancient--but after the years of being in uniform, she felt like dressing casually. What difference did it make? To please her father, she changed into a skirt or dress for dinner each evening, otherwise there was no one to please but herself.

 

When she cam in from riding with Brian, she found Corinne in the foyer, talking to Kevin Cannon.

 

"I'm sorry if Brian is late for his lessons, Samara said to her, "His horse decided to act up and that slowed us getting back."

 

Corinne turned her yellow gaze on Samara. "That's quite all right. I'm a little late myself." She wore a tawny skirt and matching sweater that showed off her curves perhaps a touch more than necessary.

 

"I didn't fall off," Brian said. "I wasn't scared, either."

 

"That's fine." Corinne's rather high voice was without conviction.

 

"I didn't learn to ride a horse until I was nineteen," Kevin said to him. "You must be pretty good."

 

Brian smiled happily. The children paid no attention to the doctor's scarred face. The first time Brian met Kevin, he'd asked, "Did you get your face hurt in the war?"

 

Kevin had given him a clipped, "Yes."

 

"Oh," was Brian's answer. "My father was killed."

 

At the moment, Samara, aware Kevin was watching her, became conscious of her stained jodhpurs, her tousled hair and she knew she must stink of horse.

 

"Well, I won't keep you, Corinne," Kevin said.

 

Corinne smiled sweetly up at him, and then, putting her hand on Brian's shoulder in an affectionate gesture, she took him upstairs to the school-room.

 

"A good-looking boy," Kevin remarked.

 

"Yes. I like Brian." Which was true enough but sounded inane. Something in Kevin's cool green gaze seemed to sap her wits.

 

"How does Vera seem to you?" he asked abruptly.

 

"What? Oh, well, I worry about her being tired all the time. Is there anything really wrong?"

 

He frowned. "Physically, no. Her hemoglobin's coming up nicely on iron. Has she ever had periods of depression before?"

 

"Depression?" Vera's eyes widened. "Vera's depressed?"

 

"I take it she usually isn't."

 

"No, she's always full of enthusiasm, always doing things for people." Samara smiled ruefully. "Sometimes whether those people want them done or not. Like the time she decided all the children in the county should be immunized against whooping cough, diphtheria and tetanus. What an uproar! But she come close to one hundred percent success, by a combination of persuasion, persistence and just plain scaring some of the mothers into it."

 

"How long since she's been away from this house?"

 

"She usually goes with my father to San Francisco when he has to be there on business. And they did come down to San Diego to see me last year."

 

"You're talking about short trips."

 

"Why, yes. Two or three days at most." Samara shook her head. "Daddy doesn't feel right away from Hallow House. Vera teases him about it."

 

"She told you about the miscarriage?"

 

Samara nodded.

 

"The pregnancy was five months along--the baby was a boy. I told her she shouldn't try again. This last time she had toxemia."

 

Poor Vera, Samara thought. Not ever to be able to have the son she wanted for Daddy.

 

"I think you ought to ask your father to take Vera away for at least a month's vacation. Out of the country, maybe. Hawaii and the Caribbean are nice this time of the year. I don't like to see her slipping deeper into this depression and I think a change of scene might prevent that, might even reverse the trend."

 

"Why don't you suggest it to my father?"

 

"I will if he doesn't listen to you. I don't want to alarm him, he has a mild heart condition I wouldn't care to aggravate. That's why I'm asking you to approach him casually about taking his wife on a vacation. Coming from you makes it's just a nice ideal you happened to think of."

 

"How serious is his heart condition?"

 

"Not very. He takes good care of himself. I didn't mean to worry you."

 

"I'm glad you mentioned it," she said. "I will talk to him."

 

"You seem like a level-headed young woman. I'm sure your parents will feel able to go away with you home to take charge."

 

She smiled uncertainly, he nodded and headed for the stairs to see Aunt Adele.

 

Level-headed. Samara thought slowly climbing up after him on the way to her room. She glanced down at her dirty pants. I wonder if he thinks of Corinne as level-headed? But what did she care? She certainly wasn't interested in Kevin Cannon. Still, the remark piqued her.

 

Of course she was trustworthy. Her parents would have no qualms about her taking care of the children. Besides, Frances would be here, too. But didn't Kevin see her in any other way? After all, if she bothered to dress up she could be as attractive as Corinne. Or almost, anyway.

 

After bathing, Samara chose a sunshine yellow wool dress with a gold belt. She brushed her hair until the waves lay smooth, then walked back along the corridor, pausing outside Adele's door.

 

The heck with it, she told herself. She wasn't going to burst in on Kevin to try impressing him with the improvement in her looks, especially when she really didn't care what he thought about her anyway.

 

She'd taken a step away when the door opened slightly and she heard Kevin's voice.

 

"Remember, Theola," he said, "I won't be by for two days. Not unless she needs me. Goodbye."

 

Samara turned toward him as he came out into the hall. "Just the person I wanted to see," he said.

 

The effect of the yellow dress? she wondered.

 

"I meant to ask you before--where's this room Adele's so mysterious about, the one you seem leery of? She calls it the room with the black door."

 

Samara froze. It took an effort of will for her to point above her. "It's on the third floor, where the towers are. I'm sorry, but I don't care to talk about it." She headed for the steps and walked down ahead of him.

 

"Did I hit on a taboo area?" he asked when he caught up with her in the foyer.

 

"Yes."

 

"Sorry, I didn't realize."

 

Susan, the maid Vera had hired to replace Rosita, came toward them. "There's someone to see you, miss," she said. "I asked him to wait in the music room."

 

Samara frowned. Who could it be?

 

"Excuse me, Kevin," she said and walked away.

 

A black-haired man strode from the music room as she approached, smiling at her. "Remember me?" he asked.

 

Samara stopped short, then hurried toward him and clasped his hand. "Oh, Sal, it's good to see you."

 

He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "You've hardly changed. I though maybe being a WAVE--" He broke off to stare over her head.

 

Samara turned to see Kevin. "Sal, this is Kevin Cannon. Sal Guerra."

 

"You're Dr. Cannon?" Sal asked.

 

Kevin nodded.

 

"I've heard my mother speak of you."

 

Sal hadn't shown any reaction to Kevin's scars. Not for the first time Samara wished she could have shown more savior faire at her first meeting with him.

 

"You're from Porterville?" Kevin asked Sal.

 

"Originally."

 

The two men eyed each other silently, reminding her of a couple of strange dogs meeting each other for the first time.

 

"Would you care to stay for lunch?" Samara said finally. "You're both more than welcome."

 

"I have to get to the office," Kevin said. "Enjoyed meeting you, Sal. And, Samara, let me know how you come out with your father." He let himself out the front door.

 

"I hope you can stay," she said to Sal.

 

"Thanks, I'd like to. To be honest, I've always wondered what it would be like to be invited into this house as a guest."

 

"I've always thought of you as my friend."

 

"Sure, but I was also an employee--that makes a difference. Since I've been in the service things like that don't seem as important as they once were."

 

"Why don't we go into the library and be comfortable while we talk," she said.

 

Sal seated himself on the leather couch and looked around. "Your father talked to me in this room a few years back."

 

Samara, sitting on one of the side chairs, said, "I'm sorry I didn't answer your letter. At the time I wasn't answering anyone's letters and then it was too late, too much time had passed."

 

"Your father wrote me quite regularly; I managed to keep posted."

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