Petals on the Pillow (14 page)

The iron fist of guilt clenched in Harrison’s gut. He looked down to see the tears start to spill over the rims of Kelly’s eyes without a sound. He pulled her against his chest, burying his hands in her hair, and kissed the top of her head. The wave of protectiveness that swept through him nearly knocked him off his feet. He thrust it aside, unwilling to face it for what it was. “All right. You don’t faint and you don’t cry either. Let’s get dressed. We’ll talk in the kitchen. No one’s up yet. We’ll have some privacy there.”

***

Light had begun to stream through the kitchen window, reaching almost all the way across the floor to the table and its straight and simple
ladder back chairs. Harrison’s footsteps echoed against the black and white checkered tile floor in the special quiet that descends on big houses just before first light. He measured coffee into the machine and they watched the water drip through in silence.

With a cup finally in her hands, Kelly sat at the table. She wrapped her hands tight enough around the mug to stop them from shaking and sipped the too-strong coffee. A grimace twisted her face as the caffeine began to jolt through her sys
tem. Without looking up, she said, “So what you’re saying is that I spoke to you in a strange voice?”

“Not exactly.” Harrison leaned against the counter, legs out
stretched and arms crossed over his chest. His eyes darted everywhere in the kitchen but to Kelly’s face. “I said you spoke to me in someone else’s voice.”

“Whose?” Kelly’s question hung in the air between them. Her voice was a little hoarse, had a little more of a tremble in it than he’d heard before.

What does she know,
he asked himself.
What doesn't she?
He didn’t want to put what he’d seen and heard into words. For a brief frantic second, he thought if he ignored it maybe he’d find it had never happened. But Kelly sat there in front of him, confused and frightened. He owed her the truth as he knew it. At least that.

“Elizabeth’s,” he said the name carefully, making sure to enunciate, making sure to keep his voice neutral.

Kelly’s head jerked up and Harrison swung around to face her. They stared at each other for a minute. The fear in her eyes echoed the emotions pounding in his heart. “I spoke to you in Elizabeth’s voice?” Anxiety widened her eyes even more.

“You spoke to me in her voice,” Harrison choked out between gritted teeth. “And you touched me with her hands and you kissed me with her lips.”

Kelly’s hand flew to her mouth. “How do you know?”

“Believe me. I’ve kissed you both. I know what I’m talking about.” He smiled, but it was without humor. He read her reaction in her eyes and turned from her again, unable to face the sense of wounded betrayal he saw there.

“That’s insane,” she said flatly.

Harrison burst into movement as if Kelly’s words had freed him from bonds that held him in place. “Don’t you think I know that? Why do you think I was reluctant to tell you about it? I didn’t know who sounded crazier, you or me.” He paced the kitchen like a caged tiger, muscles bunching as if the whole problem could be solved if he could just wrap his hands around it somehow.

“What does she want? Did she say why she was doing this?”

Harrison continued to pace. “Near as I can tell, she wants me to hang her portrait back up in the drawing room and to watch Betsy sleep more often.”

“Watch Betsy sleep?” Kelly repeated.

Harrison, still pacing, almost didn’t notice how Kelly’s face paled. “Yes. That’s what she said this morning.”

Twisting her hair back with shaking hands, Kelly took a careful sip of coffee. “It doesn’t explain the book, the flowers or the mirror,” she murmured.

Harrison finally halted and held up his hands to stop her. “Back up a minute. What book? What flowers? What about the mirror?”

Kelly gnawed at her lower lip. “Someone’s been leaving gardenia petals in my room every night. And one of Elizabeth’s sketchbooks showed up one night on my bed and then disappeared.”

“Gardenia petals? Are you sure?” Harrison asked. When Kelly nodded her head, he shook his and sighed. That was the fragrance that had floated to him down the hallway. Gardenias. Elizabeth and her damned gardenias. “This is too strange. Tell me about the mirror. I assume there’s more to the story than it breaking.”

“I thought it was some kind of strange mold. I kept rubbing it out and it kept growing back.” Kelly rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. The shadows under her eyes were deep and profound. Two lines creased her brow.

“What kept growing?” Harrison asked.

“A smudge. I don’t know when I first noticed, but ” Kelly let the words trail off.

“But what?”

Kelly shook her head and swayed in her seat. “It’s gone now. It doesn’t matter. What do we do now?”

Harrison’s shoulders slumped. “Go upstairs and shower. The rest of the house will be up soon.”

“About this, I meant.” Kelly’s exasperation was easy to hear in her voice.

“I’m certainly not taking out any ads about it.” Harrison started for the door. “I can just imagine what would happen to St. John Industries’ stock if I went public with the information
that I was regularly conversing with my dead wife.”

“Harrison?”

He stopped in the doorway. “Yes?” he said over his shoulder.

Kelly’s eyes never left the coffee cup in front of her. “When
you said I kissed you with her lips When? When did that happen?”

Without turning around, arms braced against the door
frame, he said, “In the drawing room. Before you ... woke up.”

Kelly’s head dipped a notch lower. “And later? Has it hap
pened again?”

The answer came like the breath of a sigh. “No. Since then it’s only been you that I’ve kissed.”

He left then, allowing the door to slap back and forth behind him like the slow dread rhythm of a drum in a funeral parade.

Chapter Ten

Kelly watched the door swing, the unasked question still formed on her lips. Whom had he wanted to be there when he kissed her? She stayed at the table, head bowed, listening to the flapping of the kitchen door for some time. When she finally roused herself to move, it was already nearly seven o’clock. It surprised Kelly that Dora hadn’t already gotten the kitchen up and rumbling through another day, but she was grateful for the few minutes of silence she’d had to try to absorb everything that Harrison had said to her.

She dragged herself upstairs and into the shower, but not even the stinging spray could bring her back to life. Weariness threatened to engulf her. Fatigue and confusion swirled through her brain. Kelly pulled on jeans and one of her loose oversized shirts and stumbled down the hallway to Betsy’s room.

Just seeing the beginning of the mural starting to take shape on the wall began to rejuvenate Kelly. She loved this part of a project. Every stroke she made mattered. In huge broad colors, she defined the shape of what was to come, but was completely unhemmed in by anything she’d done before. It was the best part of creating as far as Kelly was concerned. She’d finished transferring the line drawing to the wall yesterday and had taped off the edges as well. She spread the tarp out, making sure that she tucked it snug against the wall. She retrieved a bucket or two of water and then started setting out the paints she’d managed to salvage.

For these larger areas, Kelly planned to use regular latex wall
paint, not the more expensive artist’s colors. Luckily, they’d been tucked out of the way in a closet or she would have had to spend the day cooling her heels and waiting for supplies. With these paints, she’d have to work fast to make sure the background colors mixed and blended before the fast-drying paint became unworkable. She’d also have to mix a few of them up on her own. That would be her first order of business for the day. She’d already poured and combined four different shades of blue when Betsy came in.

“You’re starting without me? I looked for you in the kitchen, but you’d already gone.” She sounded hurt.

“Nope. Just getting set up. This part’s not too exciting,” Kelly answered without looking up.

“What are we doing today?”

“The sky.” Kelly pulled three sponges and some bunched- up rags from her case. “Wanna help?”

“You bet!” Bets
y said eagerly.

By the time they stopped three hours later, the sky went from an early dawn at the left side of the wall to a full black night on the right. Kelly had blocked in basic cloud shapes in the daytime skies and a misty, Milky Way-looking streak of stars in the nighttime area. She’d have to wait until the paint dried to add any detail to those areas. Kelly climbed down the ladder and stood next to Betsy. She slid one of the girl’s overall straps back up onto her shoulder. “Whaddaya think, kiddo?”

“I think it’s super, Kelly. Really neat. Let’s keep going.”

“Nope. It’s time for a break.”

Betsy’s lower lip started to sneak out in a pout. “Why?”

“Because the paint needs to dry a little more before I can do much more with it. We went pretty fast and it’s still wet even to the touch. And because I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Betsy complained as she followed Kelly into the bathroom where she rinsed out her sponges and brushes.

“Yep. Just about.” Kelly tapped the last bit of water out of a rolled up rag and wiped her hands on a towel. “Let’s head down for some chow. Last one to the kitchen has to make the sand
wiches.” Kelly darted out of the bedroom with Betsy shrieking behind her.

They slowed down to go down the stairs and were walking companionably along, the race forgotten, by the time they were in the hallway outside the kitchen. A male voice rumbled behind the closed door. Betsy and Kelly stopped and looked at each other. The voice murmured again. Definitely male, Kelly thought. Definitely not Harrison or Jenkins.

Betsy’s eyes went wide and then she let out a whoop that echoed through the halls.

“Uncle David! Uncle David! You came back! You came back!” Betsy’s shrieks of joy pierced Hawk Manor’s dour silence. She flew like a bullet through the kitchen and leaped in the air. What her childish trust that she would be caught meant was written as clearly as a book on David Clark’s handsome face. The smile brought out the laugh lines around his eyes
. Sunlight danced off his blond hair as he whirled Betsy around. Kelly couldn’t help but grin herself as Betsy’s braids spun and her wild giggles hiccuped into the room.

“Hey, Little Beth,” Clark laughed. “How’s it going?”

“Terrific now that you’re here. I was worried you wouldn’t come back anymore. I missed you.” Betsy wrapped her thin arms around his neck and squeezed. A huge grin split her face.

David squeezed back. “Such a sweet talker you are, Little Beth. Just like your Mama.”

Betsy’s grin faded a few watts and Dora shot Clark a warning look from over at the stove.

David sidled over to Dora and planted a quick kiss on her top-knotted head. She waved him away like a pesky fly. “Stop
that. You’ll mess my hair.”

“Don’t glower at me, Dora. You’re the whole reason I’m here.” He grinned as her scowl deepened. “Biting into that scone was pure bliss. I definitely needed the lift, too. What pos
sessed you to send them?”

“Possessed might be a better word for it than you know.” Dora glanced furtively at Kelly then went to the sink without another word.

Betsy burrowed her face in David’s neck. “Can you stay and play, Uncle David? Kelly’s painting the coolest mural in my room. You could come up and see it and then we could play hide and seek.”

David shook his head. “I wish I could, darling. I truly do. But I think I’d best be going.”

“Yes. I think that would be best.” A quiet voice spoke behind them. David spun around, Betsy still in his arms. Harrison stood in the doorway to the kitchen. No one had heard him come in, and for a moment they all froze in a guilty tableau.

“What are you doing here, Clark?” Harrison’s voice sunk to a low growl.

David slid Betsy to the floor. “Just stopped by to say a neighborly hello and to thank Dora for the scones she sent.” Harrison shot a look at Dora Jenkins that would have had a lesser woman running for cover. Dora wordlessly stood her ground, but her eyes darted to Kelly once again.

“Fine. Then I assume you can be on your way now,” Harrison said.

“I suppose I can.” David lifted his chin and stared Harrison right in the eyes. Red rimmed Clark’s eyes and his hair looked unbrushed. “Although I’m not sure I still have any place to be. Seems like I might be out of a job soon.”

“Is that so?” Harrison sauntered past him with a panther’s
wary grace.

Clark caught him by the shoulder, forcing him to stop. “You know damn well it’s so.” His voice was hoarse with emo
tion. “I hear you’re up to 60 percent now.”

Harrison glared down at the smaller man. “That’s right. I own around 60 percent of St. John Industries right now. What about it? I am, after all, the St. John in question.”

“We agreed, Harrison. Years ago. We had a deal,” Clark hissed. “No more than 35 percent for either of us. Ever. Neither one of us could ever overpower the other, and together we’d be unbeatable.”

“Interesting premise, Clark.” Harrison reached down and plucked David’s hand off from where it still gripped his arm, giving it the kind of regard most people reserve for someone else’s used tissue. “Unfortunately, I don’t recall ever seeing it in writing.”

“Damn it, Harrison.” David’s eyes rolled wildly. A thread of spittle gathered in the corner of his mouth. “I trusted you. I thought you were a man of honor.”

“I thought the same of you, David.” Harrison’s voice was deathly quiet. “Now get out.”

The door banged behind David after he stumbled from the house. Harrison glared around at the women surrounding him. His chest heaved and Kelly watched as he fought hard to regain his control. Without a further word to any of them, he stalked from the room.

Kelly, Dora and Betsy let out a collective sigh of relief. No one spoke for a moment, as if even the silence Harrison had left behind intimidated them. Finally, Dora said, “It’s wrong for them to fight so. Especially in front of the child.” She glanced at Betsy who cowered on a chair.

“Not exactly a partnership made in heaven,” Kelly observed wryly.

Dora clucked under breath as she made her way from the counter to the stove. “But it used to be,” she protested. She wiped her hands on the front of her checked apron. “Those two were inseparable for years. It’s fine for Mr. Harrison to grieve. It’s terrible hard when you’ve lost someone you loved as much as Mr. H. loved Mrs. St. John, but this turning away from everyone else is plain wrong. It breaks my heart to watch it.”

“Dora.” Kendra’s voice sliced the air simultaneously with the flinging open of the door, effectively cutting off Dora’s observations. “It’s nearly I0:30 and my breakfast tray is still in my room.”

“I’ll get right on it, Miss.” Dora bustled from the room.

Kelly longed to stop her, to get her to tell more. God help her, she wanted to know exactly how much Mr. H. had loved Mrs. St. John, and if they’d been so very much in love, why he thought Betsy wasn’t his daughter. Ashamed at her own need to pry behind Harrison’s back, she turned her attention back to Kendra, who was calmly pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“So, Kelly, how is the mural coming? Do you think you’ll be able to get everything you need to keep the project moving?” Kendra gave Kelly a concerned smile. “I can’t imagine who could have gotten in and done that to your belongings. Probably some kid up from over the village getting into mis
chief. We really ought to get a burglar alarm installed in this place. It’s big enough that there’s no way of knowing what’s going on in one part of the Manor when you’re in another.”

“It’s going fine, Kendra. We made a good start on the back
ground this morning. It needs to dry a bit more before we can start filling in the details,” Kelly reported. “Were there any other signs of a break-in? Any indication that someone had gotten in?

“No. Not really. But why would anyone here have done that to you? We all want your project to be a success and to stay on schedule.” Kendra stirred her coffee. “It is going to stay on schedule, isn’t it?”

Kelly shrugged. “Pretty close. I’ll be able to work the details on the background this afternoon after lunch. It’s a pretty thin layer of acrylic right now. It’ll be dry to the touch before too long.”

Kendra headed for the door and then paused, looking around the sunny kitchen. “When I came in, it seemed a little tense in here. Did I miss something?”

“Just a little visit from David Clark,” Kelly replied with a wry smile.

Kendra’s brows arched up into perfectly smooth semicircles. “Why on earth would he come here? He must have known what kind of reception he’d get. I wonder what got into him.”

“Scones, apparently,” Kelly said. “Dora sent him some scones and he said he wanted to thank her.”

Kendra tilted her head back on her long graceful neck and winced a little. “She did? Harrison must have been furious.”

“That would be one way to describe his reaction,” Kelly snorted, remembering the way steam had practically come out of Harrison’s ears.

“I can’t imagine what could have motivated Dora to do that,” she said, shaking her head.

“She didn’t exactly say,” Kelly answered, but the memory of Dora’s sidelong glances at her left her a bit uneasy. What subtle message was she missing?

Kendra continued to nod to herself as she pushed the door open. Once again, she paused. “Kelly, do you have a minute? To talk alone?” She threw a significant glance toward Betsy.

“Sure.” Kelly followed Kendra into the hall. The door swung shut behind them and Kelly looked into Kendra’s eyes. They were troubled blue seas in the smooth plain of her face.

“What’s up, Kendra? I mean, besides the drama over pastries.”

Kendra gave a polite laugh, but it sounded forced. “I was just wondering. Has, uh, Dora been acting ... well ... all right?” She was plainly uncomfortable asking.

Kelly arched a brow. “What do you mean by ‘all right’? She stomps around the kitchen and bosses everyone around, but as far as I know that’s pretty normal for her.”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Kendra sighed and examined the toes of her spotless taupe pumps. “I’m sorry. This isn’t easy, but I’d feel terrible if I didn’t say something.”

“Help me out a little here, Kendra. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“I just wanted to make sure that Dora wasn’t behaving inappropriately toward you in any way.” Kendra still kept her eyes looking downward, avoiding Kelly’s gaze.

“Have no fear,” Kelly replied, confused. “She’s been won
derful. Why would you think anything else?”

Kendra shrugged. “This thing with David and the
scones ” Kendra’s words trailed off. When she began talking again, the words tumbled over each other in a rush. “Dora was very close to Elizabeth. Worshipped her, in fact. The two of them were always in the kitchen, going over guest lists and dreaming up new recipes. In some ways, I think her death was nearly as hard on Dora as it was on Harrison.”