The Fate of Mercy Alban (23 page)

And yet her face was so hopeful. She was bouncing up and down on her toes, her eyes wide. I shrugged at Matthew and he nodded back at me.

“Do you promise you’ll stay out of the passageways?” I asked her.

“I promise!” She flew to my side, throwing her arms around me.

“Now, listen,” I said, pulling back, “I mean it. I’m going to lay down some rules here, and if you break any one of them, Heather is going home and you’ll be grounded, do you understand?”

Amity nodded her head, serious now. “I understand. What are the rules?”

“No going into the passageways. They absolutely need to stay locked.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t even mention them to her. Until now, nobody but family even knew about the passageways, and that’s how I want it to stay. It’s a family secret. Got it?”

“Got it. I won’t tell.”

“Do you swear?” I pushed it, wagging a finger at her.

“I swear.”

“And no going up to the third floor. That’s where your great-aunt Fate is, and I don’t want her disturbed.”

“That’s fine. We don’t want to hang around her, anyway.”

“And one more thing, Amity,” I said to her. “If Heather comes over tonight, there’ll be no more talk of this manuscript.” I shot a quick look at Matthew. “The two of us might finish it tonight, but if we do, I’ll read it with you some other time.”

“Aww,” she protested loudly.

“Not negotiable,” I said, shaking my head. “Nobody apart from the three of us is to know this manuscript even exists. It’s extraordinarily valuable, and until I decide what to do with it, it’s still lost to history. You’ve never heard of it. I know this is a strong word, honey, but I absolutely forbid you to mention it to Heather. Not a peep. Do you understand?”

“I get it,” she said.

“It’s important, Amity,” I pressed. “If the wrong people knew about this …”

“I
get
it,” she repeated, her tone bordering on annoyance.

But I still had more to say. “And come to think about it, don’t talk at all about David Coleville.”

“Oka-a-ay,” she said, rolling her eyes and drawing the word out into several syllables, fidgeting where she stood.

I guessed I had set enough ground rules for a simple sleepover—they seemed a little rigid, even to me. I quickly looked at Matthew. He nodded his head, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“All right,” I said. “She can come. But I want to talk to her parents first.”

Beaming, Amity fished her cell phone out of her jeans pocket, dialed, and thrust it at me.

Approximately thirty minutes after talking with Heather’s mother—who sounded more than a little excited about having her daughter spend the night at Alban House despite the fact there had been a recent break-in—I watched from the window as their car pulled into the driveway.

“I won’t be a moment,” I said over my shoulder to Matthew as Amity and I went outside to greet her friend.

“Hello again!” I called out, walking down the patio steps toward the driveway. “We’re so glad to have Heather with us tonight.”

“She was thrilled you called,” Heather’s mother said as the girls ran off toward the south lawn.

“I want you to know the house is 100 percent secure despite the recent break in,” I said, trying to remember the woman’s name. I knew I had met her at the funeral, but there were so many people that day, I couldn’t quite place her.

“I’m sure it is.” She smiled warmly. “Thanks so much for having her.”

“Reverend Parker is here,” I said. “Would you like to come in and have a drink with us? Or stay for dinner?”

“I’d love to, but can we do it another time?” she asked, looking wistfully up toward the house. “We’ve got dinner reservations. We sprung into action when we learned we’d have a free evening. You know how it is.”

I chuckled. “Yes, I do. Another time, then.”

After she had left and I had gone back up to the house, Matthew and I watched out the window as Amity and Heather explored the gardens. I snuck a glance in his direction. I wondered—

The intercom interrupted my thoughts. “Miss Grace?” Jane’s voice sounded scratchy and far away. “Dinner is served.”

As we ate, Matthew and I talked of everything and nothing—college experiences, friends we had in childhood, even things as mundane as our favorite movies.

“So why did you become a minister?” I asked him.

Chewing a bite of his fillet, he considered this. “Rebellion.”

I took a sip of wine and eyed him. “Most kids rebel by doing drugs or stealing cars or getting tattoos.”

“I know.” He laughed. “It sounds pretty strange. But …” He hesitated for a moment. “I don’t tell this to many people.”

“I won’t tell the church ladies.” I smiled at him. “Or the press.” I almost teased him further about it, but a seriousness descended around us, and I knew this wasn’t a joking matter.

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t have the most idyllic upbringing imaginable.”

I looked at him, not knowing quite what to say, suddenly feeling a bit ashamed of all the opulence around us.

“My father,” he began, and then was silent for a moment before continuing. “Let’s just say he wasn’t the world’s best role model.”

I wanted to reach across the table and take his hand, but I didn’t know if I should.

“I’m so sorry, Matthew,” I said to him.

“He was a drug addict and an alcoholic,” he said, and sighed deeply. “But even when he wasn’t using, he was a bully. An abuser. The whole nine yards. I know I’m supposed to try to see the good in everyone, but Grace, the truth is, he was a monster. My mother was working three jobs to try to support the family, while he came home every night and …” I saw tears glisten in the corners of his eyes.

“One night when I was sixteen, I had enough,” he went on. “I had seen enough, had experienced enough, and had heard enough. He was all jacked up on something, and he started threatening her, as he always did. I knew he wouldn’t stop. Every night, it was either her or me. So I stopped it.”

My fork hovered in midair. “Stopped it, how?”

He held my gaze. “I beat him within an inch of his life, literally. All those years of helpless rage …” He shook his head. “My mother was terrified I was going to kill him—not terrified for him, you understand, but for me. She didn’t want me to spend my life in jail because of that man. So she called the police. They had to drag me off him.”

A chill ran through me. I couldn’t imagine this gentle, good-humored man in that kind of a rage.

“I spent two years in juvenile hall,” he said. “I was sinking fast, Grace. People talk about standing at a crossroads, and that time in my life was definitely mine. There were a lot of messed-up kids in there with me, and I might have easily chosen another path, their path. I might have ended up just like my father.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He smiled. “One of the ministers who counseled juvenile offenders took a liking to me for some reason. Somehow, he saw the good kid hiding behind the anger and rage. He took me in, made sure I got my high school diploma, and gave me a job at the church. I had never been to church a day in my life, and to me, it was a whole new world. A world where kindness and love existed. I never looked back. It was my—” He stopped, and a grin spread across his face.

“Your what?”

“My saving grace.”

I could feel my face start to redden. “I’m glad he was there for you. Just when you needed him.”

“Heaven-sent, some would say.”

“Don’t you think—” I started. But Amity’s voice on the intercom stopped me midsentence.

“Mom?” Her voice had a tremor I didn’t like.

I hurried across the room and pressed the button. “What is it, honey?”

“Mom, will you come up here?” She sounded small and very far away.

What was this about? “We’re just in the middle of dinner, honey. What do you need?”

“Um …” she began, and then I heard another voice, a paper-thin, singsong voice, in the background.

“
The witch in the wood comes out to play / By the light of the solstice moon …
”

We’ll be right there, honey,” I said into the intercom. Matthew and I raced out of the dining room and toward the stairs.

“Jane!” I called, and she popped her head out of the kitchen. “I think Fate is upstairs with the girls.” She was at our side in an instant, and we climbed the stairs together, hurrying toward the media room where I knew Amity and Heather had been watching a movie.

I opened the door to find both girls huddled together on one of the leather sofas. Fate, dressed in a tattered, old gown, was twirling in slow circles in the middle of the room. She didn’t seem to realize anyone else was there. Her eyes were closed, and she was chanting, over and over:

I stared at Amity, openmouthed.

“She just came in here and started … chanting,” Amity said, her eyes darting from Heather to me to Fate, her voice a harsh whisper. “We tried to come downstairs to get you, but she grabbed us every time we tried to get out of the room. That’s when I thought of the intercom.”

Thank goodness for Jane, who stepped into the room, marched right up to Fate, and shook her by the shoulders.

“Now, now, Miss Fate,” she said as though she were talking to a child. “That’s enough dancing for today.”

Fate opened her eyes wide, startled by the sound of her own name. She looked at each of us in turn and only then seemed to realize we were there.

“What are you doing here, Miss Fate?” Jane asked her, patting her hand. “You should be in your own room. You know that.”

Fate broke free of Jane’s grasp and twirled again, her arms out wide. “I heard the girls talking and laughing and it sounded like so much fun, I wanted to join in,” she said, frowning at Jane. “I was all alone and didn’t have anyone to play with.”

Jane grabbed Fate by the arm to stop her twirling. “It’s time for bed, Miss Fate,” she said, her tone as firm as a schoolteacher’s.

“But they get to stay up.” Fate pouted, pointing at the girls.

Jane eyed her. “Yes, they get to stay up. But it’s your bedtime now. Be a good girl and come along.”

“It’s not fair,” Fate complained, stamping one foot and sighing loudly. But she let Jane lead her out of the room, even as she continued to protest.

“You’re not going to be alone,” I heard Jane say to Fate as they were making their way down the hall. “I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, just like I always do. How about a story?”

I turned to the girls, who were still huddled together on one of the couches. “I’m sorry about that,” I said to them. “Heather, that was Amity’s great-aunt, who recently arrived here from the hospital. She is a little …” I searched for the right word. “… confused.”

Heather nodded. “That’s okay. My grandma has Alzheimer’s. She lived with us for a while.”

“That was really creepy,” Amity said, pulling her knees into her chest and hugging them with her arms. “I know this is bad to say, but I wish she wasn’t here. Where did she even get that dress?”

I sat down next to her and put an arm across her shoulders. “It was probably in her old room or tucked away in a trunk somewhere. But either way, don’t worry about her. She’s harmless. Jane’s going to make sure she’s down for the night. Her room is locked so she won’t bother you girls again, and I’ve also got a call in to her doctor at the hospital. I’ll get some answers when I talk to him, and then we’ll decide what the right thing to do is. It could be that she goes back there or into a nursing home here. We’ll do what’s best for her and it’ll all be taken care of within the next few days.”

Amity’s frown told me she wasn’t buying it. I wasn’t sure I was, either.

“Do you want us to hang out with you up here and watch a movie?” I asked her, shooting Matthew a look, and he nodded. “Or you could come downstairs. There’s a TV in the parlor.”