In the Garden Trilogy (97 page)

“When did they start?”

“A few days ago.”

“Do you think Roz has had them, too?”

“We’ll need to ask her.”

“Stella, we have to go up to the old nursery.”

“Yes.” She walked back, took the hand Hayley held out to her. “We will.”

I
T WAS EASY
to talk without men when the announced activity was wedding planning. Men, Hayley noted, scattered like ants when terms like guest lists and color schemes were mentioned.

So they were able to sit on Stella’s patio in the balm of the evening with Lily being passed from one pair of arms to another, or playing in the grass with Parker.

“I didn’t think it would be so easy to chase Harper off,” Hayley complained. “You’d think he’d want some input into the wedding plans. He’s getting married, too.”

Roz and Stella exchanged amused looks before Roz reached over, patted Hayley’s hand. “Sweet, foolish child.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter, since that’s not what we’re doing. But still.” Annoyed with herself, Hayley waved her hands. “Anyway. Amelia’s been messing with you, too.”

“Twice,” Roz confirmed. “Both times when I was alone in the propagation house. I’d be working, and then I’d be somewhere else. It’s dark, too dark to tell where, and cold.
Very cold. I’m standing over an open grave. When I look down I see her, looking back at me. Her hands are clasped over the stem of a black rose. Or it looks black in the dark.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Stella demanded.

“The same could be asked of you. I intended to tell you, and did tell Mitch. But we’ve had a few major distractions.”

Hayley hauled Lily onto her lap and admired the thick plastic bracelet she played with. “I know that when this first started and I suggested a seance everybody thought it was a joke. But maybe we should try it. The three of us have this connection to her. Maybe if we tried, really tried to communicate, she’d tell us what she wants.”

“I’m not pulling out the turban and crystal ball anytime soon,” Roz said, definitely. “In any case, I don’t think she knows. By that, I mean she wants to be found—and I think she means her grave, or her remains. But she doesn’t know where it is.”

“We can’t be a hundred percent certain it’s on Harper property,” Stella put in.

“No, we can’t. Mitch is doing all he can to find death records, burial records. We don’t think there are any for her.”

“A secret burial.” Hayley nodded. “But she always wants us to know what happened to her. It still pisses her off.” She shrugged, smiled a little. “It’s one of the things I get, pretty loud and clear. If she was killed, or killed herself, in the house, we need to find out.”

“The nursery,” Roz stated. “It was still in use when I was born.”

“You stayed up there when you were a baby?” Hayley asked.

“So I’m told. At least for the first few months, with the nursemaid. My grandmother didn’t approve, Grandmama Harper. Apparently she’d only used it when they were entertaining. She used her considerable influence on my
parents until they moved me to a room on the second floor. I never used it for my boys.”

“Why?”

Roz pursed her lips and thought over Hayley’s question. “First, I didn’t want them that far away from me. And yes, I didn’t like the feel of the room. Something I couldn’t explain, and didn’t think about that much at the time.”

“The furniture in Lily’s room came from there.”

“Yes. Once Mason was out of the crib, I had everything taken back up. I took to storing the boys’ things in there when they outgrew them. We don’t use the third floor as a rule. It’s too costly to maintain, and more space than we can practically use. Though I have had parties in the ballroom in the past.”

“I’d never been up there,” Hayley commented. “Which is strange now that I think about it, because I like going through houses, seeing how they look, picturing them the way they were, that kind of thing. But I never even thought of going up there in all the time I’ve lived in the house. Stella?”

“No, and you’re right, it is odd. The boys had the run of the house for more than a year. You’d think I’d have had to chase them down from there at some point. But I don’t think they ever went up either. Even if they did it in secret, Luke would’ve spilled. He always does.”

“I think we should.” Hayley looked from one to the other. “I think we have to.”

“Tonight?” Stella asked.

“I don’t think I can stand to wait. It’s driving me crazy.”

“If that’s what we’re going to do, we’ll all do it together. The six of us,” Roz said. “Not the children. David can keep them downstairs. You have to be sure, Hayley. At this point it seems, of all of us, you’re the closest to her.”

“I am sure. But not just me, which is something else I
wanted to bring up. Harper. Her feelings for him, about him.” A little chilled, Hayley rubbed her arms. “They’re awfully mixed, and potent. She loves him—the child of the child of the child sort of thing. And she hates him—a man, a Harper man, Reginald’s blood.”

She looked at Stella, at Roz. “That combination of feelings, it’s powerful. I think maybe more powerful because of the way Harper and I feel about each other.”

“Love, sex, kinship, vengeance, grief.” Roz nodded. “And insanity.”

“His feelings about her are pretty mixed, too.” Hayley let out a breath. “I don’t know if that matters, but I think all of it, at this point, everything’s important. I think we must be getting close to the end of it.”

“Hallelujah,” Stella announced.

“I know. I want this over. I want to really plan a wedding, and plan for this baby. I want to sit here with the two of you and talk about flowers and music and the kind of dress I’m going to wear.”

Roz covered Hayley’s hand with hers. “We will.”

“Last night, before it happened, it was like I was imagining it, seeing myself in a long white dress and the flowers . . . But I guess that’s out.” She gave a half shrug as she patted her belly. “I don’t guess I’m entitled to a long white dress.”

“Honey.” Roz gave Hayley’s hand a quick squeeze. “Every bride’s entitled to a long white dress.”

F
OOD CAME FIRST
, a family meal, the kind of ritual that brought them all together where flowers were set and children chattered. Roz had said such things were important, and Hayley could see the purpose of it.

This is who we are, it seemed to say. What we are and
what we’ll be regardless of trouble. Maybe because of it.

She’d been given this, this family. A mother, a sister, a lover, brothers and friends. A child who was loved by them, and another child to come.

Whatever it took to keep it whole and safe, she would do.

So she ate. She talked and listened, helped wipe up spills, and buried her nerves under the treasure of normality.

There was talk of flowers and books, of school and books. And here was the talk of wedding plans she’d pined for.

“I guess Hayley told you we’d like to get married here, if that suits you, Mama.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Roz set her fork aside. “In the gardens? We’ll insist the weather stay fine, and have tents as a backup. I intend to roll up my sleeves regarding the flowers. I insist you give me my head there. You’ll want lilies, I expect.”

“Yes. I want to carry red lilies.”

“Bold colors then, toss the pastels. I can work with that. I know you don’t want anything too formal, and since we’ve had two weddings already this year, I think we can iron out the details without much pain and suffering.”

“Step away now,” Logan advised Harper. “Save yourself. Just say, ‘That sounds fine.’ And if they give you two choices in anything, don’t fall into the trap. Just say, ‘They’re both great,’ and tell her to pick.”

“He thinks he’s being funny,” Stella said dryly. “I’m not kicking him under the table because he’s right.”

“How come everybody’s getting married?” Gavin demanded. “How come we always have to wear ties?”

“Because they like to torture us,” Logan told him. “It’s the way of women.”

“They should have to wear ties, too.”

“I’ll wear a tie,” Stella offered. “You wear high heels.”

“I know why people get married,” Luke piped up. “So they can sleep in the same bed and make babies. Did you and Mitch make a baby yet?” he asked Roz.

“We already made our quota some time ago. And on that note.” Roz pushed away from the table. “I think it’s time for you boys to help David clear this up so you can have ice cream in the kitchen.”

“All right, troops. Fall in. You, too, Private.” Before Hayley could deal with it herself, David moved over to take Lily out of the high chair. “Just because you’re short, doesn’t mean you can skate out of KP. She likes to help me load the dishwasher,” he said to Hayley. “We’re fine.”

“I just need to talk to you for one minute in the kitchen.”

“Clear and stack, gentlemen,” he ordered, then carried Lily out of the dining room. “We got this end covered,” he said to Hayley. “You don’t need to worry.”

“No, that’s not it. I know Lily’s fine with you. It’s about the wedding. I need to ask you for something.”

He set Lily down, gave her a pot and a spoon to bang. “What do you need?”

“I know this might sound sort of strange, but I think you get to tailor a day like your wedding day to suit you best, don’t you?”

“If not that day, what day?”

“That’s right. So I was wondering, I was hoping, you’d give me away.”

“What?” David’s face went utterly blank. “Me?”

“I know you’re not old enough to be my daddy, or anything. But I wasn’t thinking about it that way. I was thinking how you’re one of my best friends, and Harper’s, too. How we’re like family. And how a day like that’s about family. I don’t have my daddy, or any blood kin I love the way I love you. So I want you to walk me down the aisle—so to speak—and give me to Harper. It would mean a lot to me.”

His eyes went misty as he wrapped his arms around her. “That’s the sweetest thing,” he crooned. “The damnedest sweetest thing.”

“Will you?”

He drew back. “I would be honored.” Taking both her hands, he turned them over, kissed her palms. “Extremely.”

“Whew. I thought you might think it was silly.”

“Not even close. I’m so proud, and touched. And, honey, if you don’t go on now, I’m going to embarrass myself in front of my troops.”

“Me, too.” She sniffled. “Okay. We’ll talk about all of it later on.” She crouched down to kiss Lily’s head, and was largely ignored. “You be good, baby girl.”

“Hayley.” David drew a breath as she stopped at the door. “Your daddy? He’d be proud, too.”

The best she could manage was a nod as she left him.

She brushed away tears as she followed the voices in the parlor, then paused when she heard the temper in Harper’s.

“I don’t like this idea, not one bit. And I like less the fact that the three of you were off plotting this on your own.”

“We womenfolk,” Roz said with a sarcasm that dripped so heavy Hayley could feel its weight outside the room.

“The fact that you are women isn’t any of my doing,” he shot back. “But the fact that
my
woman is pregnant is. I don’t take chances on this.”

“All right, you have a valid point. But what do you intend to do with her for the next seven, eight months, honey?”

“Protect her.”

“You do make it hard to argue.”

“Arguing isn’t going to help.” Mitch’s voice of reason cut between them. “We can discuss and debate, and we’re unlikely to be in full agreement on all points. But we do have to come to some decisions.”

Hayley straightened her spine, and stepped into the room. “I’m sorry. Hard not to overhear. Harper, I was going to ask if we could go outside so I could talk to you, but I think what I have to say needs to be said here, to everyone.”

“I’ve got some things to say you might rather hear in private.”

She only smiled. “There’ll be plenty of time for you to yell at me in private. A lifetime of it. I know you kept it buttoned till now because of the kids. But I’d like you to hear me out before you say anything more.”

She cleared her throat and moved farther into the room. “Earlier today, when I was alone, I was wondering how I’d gotten here. I’d never figured on moving away from where I grew up, having a couple of kids before I figured out where I really wanted to go, really wanted to do. Getting married, having babies, that was going to be later, after I’d made something of myself, had some fun. Here I am, living in another state. I’ve got a daughter not yet two and another baby on the way. I’m getting married. I’m working in a field I never thought about being in before. How’d I get here? What am I doing here?”

“If you’re not happy—”

“Please, just listen. I asked myself that. I’ve still got choices. There are always choices. So I asked myself, is this what I want, is this where I want to be, what I want to do? And it is. I love you. I didn’t know I had all this in me.”

She kept her eyes on Harper’s, only on Harper’s and crossed her hands over her heart. “I didn’t know I could love a child the way I do Lily. I didn’t know I could love a man the way I love you. If I had every choice in the world, this is the one I’d pick. Being with you, with our children, in this place. Because you see that’s one more thing, Harper. I love this house, I love this place. As much as you
do. What it is, what it stands for, what it’ll be to our children, and theirs.”

“I know. My mind traveled that same road. That’s why you’re the one for me.

“I can’t walk away from here. Please don’t ask me to do that. I can’t walk away from this house, this family, the work I’ve come to love. The only way I can stay is to try to do this thing, to settle this. Right a wrong, or at least understand it. Maybe I was meant to. Maybe we found each other because
we
were meant to. I don’t know if I can do it if you’re not with me.” She scanned the room. “All of you.”

Then she looked at Harper. “Be with me, Harper. Trust me to do what’s right. Trust us to do it.”

He stepped to her, rested his brow on hers. “I am with you.”

“T
HERE
’
S NO GUARANTEE
anything will happen.” Mitch slipped a spare tape in his pocket.

“I think I can make it happen. What I mean . . .” Hayley moistened her lips. “I think I can draw her. She wants this—a part of her does, and has for a century.”

“And the other part?” Harper asked.

“Wants revenge. When it comes down to it, she’ll probably be more inclined to hurt you than me.”

“And she can hurt us,” Roz pointed out. “We’ve seen that.”

“So we go up there armed with cameras and tape recorders.” Logan shook his head.

“We happy few,” Mitch stated.

“Well, she’s raised the stakes.” Logan took Stella’s hand. “Since none of us are willing to fold, let’s ante up.”

“We stay together,” Roz said as they started up the
stairs. “No matter what. We’ve never really confronted her as a group before. I think there’s strength in that.”

“She always had the upper hand, she always moved first.” Harper nodded. “Yeah, we stay together.”

When they reached the third floor, Roz turned toward the ballroom. Going with instinct, she stepped forward, pushed the double pocket doors open.

“There were lovely parties here. I remember creeping up at night to watch the dancing.”

She reached in to switch on the light. It showered down on the shrouded furniture, and the lovely pattern of the maple floor. “I nearly sold those chandeliers once.” She looked up at the dazzling trio of them dripping down from ornate plaster medallions. “Couldn’t bring myself to do it, even though it would’ve made day-to-day living easier. I gave my own parties here, once upon a time. I believe it’s time I did so again.”

“She came in this way, that night. I’m sure of it.” Though her hand was already in Harper’s, Hayley tightened her grip. “Don’t let go.”

“Not a chance.”

“She came in the terrace doors. They weren’t locked. She could’ve broken the glass if they had been. She came in, and oh . . . Gilt and crystal, the smell of beeswax and lemon oil. The rain dripping, dripping from the gutters. Turn on the lights.”

“I have,” Roz said quietly.

“No, she turns on the light. Harper.”

“Right here.”

“I can see it. I can see it.”

The fog rolled in the doors behind her, smoking damp over the glossy floors. Her feet were caked with mud, with blood where she’d trod on stones, and left streaks of that mud, of that blood, where she walked.

Alive still. Heart beating blood.

This, this is how they lived at Harper House. Grand rooms lit by sparkling chandeliers, gilt mirrors on the walls, long, polished tables and potted palms so lush they smelled of the tropics.

She had never been to the tropics. She and James would go one day, one day they’d go and stroll on sugar sand by warm blue water.

But no, but no, their lives were here, in Harper House. They had cast her out, but she would be here. Always here. To dance in this ballroom, lit by crystal drops.

She swayed, a partnerless waltz, her head tilted up flirtatiously. The blade in her hand shooting light from its keen edge.

She would dance here, night after night if she chose. Drink champagne, wear fine jewels. She would teach James to waltz with her. How handsome he would be, wrapped in his soft blue blanket. How sweet a picture they would make. Mother and son.

She must go to him now, go to James, so they could always be together.

She wandered out. Where would the nursery be? In the other wing, of course. Of course. Children and those who tended them didn’t belong near grand ballrooms, elegant withdrawing rooms. Smell the house! How rich its perfume. Her son’s home. And hers now.

The carpet was soft as fur on her feet. And even so late, even when the house was in bed, the gaslights glowed on low.

Spare no expense! she thought. Money to burn.

Oh, she should burn them all.

At the stairs she paused. They would be sleeping down there, the bastard and his whore. The sleep of the rich and
the privileged. She could go down, kill them. Hack them to pieces, bathe in their blood.

Idly, she rubbed her thumb over the curved blade of the sickle, had blood welling red. Would their blood run blue? Harper blood. It would be so lovely to see it, spilling out of their white throats, pooling regally blue on their linen sheets.

But someone might hear. One of the servants could hear, and stop her before her duty was done.

So quiet. She tapped a finger to her cheek, stifled a laugh. Quiet as a mouse.

Quiet as a ghost.

She walked to the other wing, easing doors open if they were closed. Peeking inside.

She knew—it was her mother’s heart speaking, she thought—as her trembling hand reached for the latch on the next door. She knew her James slept inside.

A low light burned, and with it she could see the shelves of toys and books, the rocking chair, the small bureaus and the chests.

And there, the crib.

Tears spilled out of her eyes as she crossed to it. There he lay sleeping, her precious son, his dark hair clean and sweet, his plump cheeks rosy with health.

Never had there been a more beautiful baby than her James. So pretty and soft in his crib. He needed to be tended, and rocked, and sung to. Sweet songs for her sweet son.

She’d forgotten his blanket! How could she have forgotten his blanket? Now she would have to use what another had bought him when it came time to carry him off with her.

Gently, so gently, she brushed her fingers over his soft hair and sang his lullaby.

“We’ll be together always, James. Nothing will ever part us again.”

Sitting on the floor, she went to work.

She used the blade to hack through the rope. It was difficult to form the noose, but she thought she did well. Well enough. Discarding the sickle, she carried a chair, positioned it under the ceiling lamp. And sang softly as she tied the rope to the arms of the lamp.

It held on a strong, testing pull and made her smile.

She pulled out the gris-gris she had in a bag looped around her neck by a ribbon. She’d memorized the chant the voodoo queen had sold her, but she struggled with the words now as she sprinkled the gris-gris in a circle around the chair.

She used the blade to slice open her own palm. And let the blood from her hand drip over the gris-gris, to bind the work.

Her blood. Amelia Ellen Connor. The same blood that ran in her child. A mother’s blood, potent magic.

Her hands shook, but she continued to croon as she went to the crib. For the first time since he’d been born, she lifted her child into her arms.

Bloodied his blanket, and his rosy cheek.

Ah, so warm, so sweet! Weeping with joy she cuddled the child against her damp and filthy gown. When he stirred and whimpered, she hugged him only closer.

Hush, hush, my precious. Mama is here now. Mama will never leave you again. His head moved, his mouth sucking as if in search of a nipple. But when with a sob of joy, she tugged her gown below her breast, pressed him there, he arched and let out a cry.

Hush, hush, hush. Don’t cry, don’t fret. Sweet, sweet baby boy. Sawing her arms back and forth to rock him, she moved to the chair. Mama has you now. She’ll never, never let you
go. Come with Mama, my darling James. Come with Mama now where you will never know pain or grief. Where we will waltz in the ballroom, have tea and cake in the garden.

She climbed, awkward with his weight, with his wiggles, onto the chair. Even as he wailed, she smiled down at him, and slipped the noose around her neck. Softly singing, she slipped the smaller noose around his.

Now, we’re together.

The connecting door opened, a spill of light that had her turning her head, baring her teeth like a tiger protecting her cub.

The sleepy-eyed nursemaid shrieked, her hands flying to her face at the sight of the woman in the filthy white gown, and the baby in her arms, screaming with fear and angry hunger, with a rope around his neck.

“He’s mine!”

As she kicked the chair away, the nursemaid sprang forward.

Screams gave way to the cold, and the dark.

Hayley sat on the floor of what had been the nursery, weeping in Harper’s arms.

S
HE WAS STILL
icy, even in the parlor with a blanket over her legs, and the unseasonable fire Mitch had set to blaze in the hearth.

“She was going to kill him,” she told them. “She was going to kill the baby. My God, my God, she meant to hang her own child.”

“To keep him.” Roz stood, staring at the fire. “That’s more than madness.”

“If the nurse hadn’t come in when she did. If she hadn’t heard him crying and come in quickly, she would’ve done it.”

“Selfish woman.”

“I know, I know.” Hayley lifted her hands, rubbed her shoulders. “But she didn’t do it to hurt him. She believed they’d be together, and happy, and, oh Jesus. She was broken, in every possible way. Then at the end, when she lost again . . .” Hayley shook her head. “She keeps waiting for him. I think she must see him in every child who comes to Harper House.”

“A kind of hell isn’t it?” Stella asked. “For madness.”

She’d never forget it, Hayley thought. Never. “The nurse, she saved the baby.”

“I haven’t been able to trace her,” Mitch put in. “They had more than one nursemaid during his babyhood, but the timing of this points to a girl named Alice Jameson—which also jibes with Mary Havers’s letter to Lucille. Alice left the Harper employ in February of 1893, and I haven’t found anything more on her.”

“They sent her away.” Stella closed her eyes. “That’s what they’d have done. Paid her maybe, or just as likely threatened her.”

“Both would be my guess,” Logan said.

“I’ll push on it, do what I can to find her,” Mitch promised, and Roz turned to smile at him.

“I’d appreciate it. I wouldn’t be here without her, nor would my sons.”

“It wasn’t what she wanted us to know,” Hayley said quietly. “Or not all of it. She doesn’t know where she is. Where she’s buried. What they did with her. She won’t be able to leave, to rest, to pass over, whatever it is, until we find her.”

“How?” Stella spread her hands.

“I have an idea on that.” Roz scanned faces. “One I think’s going to hit this group about fifty-fifty.”

“What’s the point?” Harper objected. “So Hayley can see her try to hang a baby again?”

“So she, or one of us, can see what happened next. Hopefully. And by we, I mean myself, Hayley, and Stella.”

For the first time since they’d started upstairs, Harper released Hayley’s hand. He shoved off the couch. “That’s a damn stupid idea.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Harper.”

“It’s the only tone I’ve got when my mother goes crazy. Did you see what just happened up there? The way Hayley walked from the ballroom to the old nursery? The way she talked as if she was watching it happen, and like she was part of what was happening?”

“I saw perfectly well. That’s why we have to go back.”

“I’ve got to side with Harper on this, Roz.” Logan gave an apologetic shrug. “I don’t see sitting down here while three women go up there alone. I don’t give a rat’s ass if it’s sexist.”

“I expected as much. Mitch?” Her eyebrows winged up when he sat, frowning at her. “Well, you’re about to surprise me again.”

“You can’t seriously agree with her on this?” Harper whirled around to his stepfather.

“The hell of it, Harper, is that I am. I don’t like it, but I see where she’s going, and why. And before you take my head off, consider this: They’ll do it later, at some point when none of us is around.”

“What happened to staying together?”

“It’s a man who used her, abused her, stole her child, cast her off. She’s been poking at me and Stella again. She won’t trust you. Maybe we can convince her to trust us.”

“And maybe she’ll toss you off the third floor terrace.”

“Harper.” Roz crossed to him, her smile as thin as a blade. “Anybody gets tossed out of this house, it’s going to be her. That’s a stone promise. My sympathy for her is at an end. You still have it.” She looked over at Hayley. “And
that’s fine, probably an advantage. But mine is over. What she would have done if not for intervention is unforgivable to me. I will have her out of this house. Can you go back?” she asked Hayley.

“Yes, I can. I want it done. I don’t think I’ll ever have another easy moment until it is.”

“You’re asking me to risk you.”

“No.” Hayley rose to go to Harper. “To believe in me.”

“Y
OU KNOW HOW
, in the movies, the stupid, usually scantily clad blonde, goes down in the basement alone when she hears a noise, especially if there’s a slasher-type killer running around?”

Roz laughed at Hayley as they stood on the third floor landing. “We’re not stupid.”

“And none of us are blond,” Stella added. “Ready?”

They clasped hands and started down the hall.

“The problem with this,” Hayley began in a voice that sounded tinny to her ears, “is that if she doesn’t know what happened to her after, how will we?”

“One step at a time.” Roz gave Hayley’s hand a squeeze. “How are you feeling?”

“My heart’s beating a mile a minute. Roz, when this is over, can we open this room again? Make it, I don’t know, a playroom maybe. Something with light and color.”

“A wonderful idea.”

“And here we go,” Stella declared. They walked in together.

“How did it look before, Hayley?” Roz asked her.

“Um. The crib was over there.” She gestured with her chin. “Against the wall. The lights were on low. Gaslights, like in that movie with Ingrid Bergman. The one where Charles Boyer tries to drive her crazy. There was a rocking
chair over there, and another, straight-backed chair—the one she used—over there. Shelves here,” she pointed, “with toys and books on them. And a . . .”

Her head snapped back, her eyes rolled up white. As she began to choke, her legs buckled.

She heard, through the storm surge in her ears, Roz shout to get her out. But she shook her head wildly.

“Wait, wait. God it
burns
! The baby’s screaming, and the maid, the nurse. Don’t let go of me.”