Read Nobody's Secret Online

Authors: Michaela MacColl

Tags: #General Fiction

Nobody's Secret

To Rowan, who prefers more crows in her murders

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

Author's Note

Further Reading

About the Auhtor

I

m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody too?

CHAPTER 1

Emily lay perfectly still, hidden in the tall grass, her eyes closed tight. A chain of wildflowers lay wilted around her neck. But no matter how quiet she was, the bee would not land on her nose. Emily, she told herself sternly, bees are
special.
You can’t expect the first one to accept your invitation.

The bee thrummed. A delicate brush of wings tickled her cheek. Pollen drifted into Emily’s nose. She sneezed. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know that her quarry had flitted away.

The crunch of nearby footsteps made her sigh. Had her mother sent Vinnie to fetch her already? In Mother’s view, to play truant from housekeeping was a terrible crime. Especially on laundry day. But this was the first day Emily had felt well enough to wander; she wasn’t going home yet. She willed herself to become as invisible as the blur of hummingbirds’ wings.

The footsteps came closer. A shadow came between her and the sun. Someone was standing over her. She squeezed her eyes closed even tighter and thought only of the bees.

“A young lady lying hidden among the wildflowers. . . . How unexpected.”

Emily’s eyes flew open. A young man towered over her. Hastily, she sat up, craning her neck to see him. His silhouette was rimmed with sunlight and his fair hair glistened like strands of fine silk. Her sun-warmed skin suddenly felt chill.

“Hello,” she answered warily, glancing toward the stand of white pines that stood between her and home. Then she took a closer look at his fine clothing and her confidence returned. From the high polish on his black shoes and the gold watch peeking from the left pocket of his vest, she could tell he was from a city, perhaps Boston or even New York. He couldn’t be more than twenty—twenty-two at the oldest. Harmless, she thought. “Are you a student at the college?”

The college on the hill dominated Amherst’s landscape as well as the rhythms of the Dickinson family. Emily’s grandfather was one of the founders of Amherst College, and her father was its treasurer.

“I’m no scholar,” he said, grimacing. “I’ve never had any interest in a formal education.”

“I’m eager to go to Mount Holyoke Seminary next year.” She looked at him curiously, unable to fathom not wanting to learn everything about everything. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t want to go to school.”

“I’ve been too busy living.” He shrugged. “What could I learn in college that I couldn’t learn traveling the world?

The world! Rather than let her envy show on her face, Emily’s glance traveled from his well-trimmed hair to his shined shoes. “The civilized parts, I presume.”

“I’m off to California as soon as I’ve finished my business here,” he said.

Emily couldn’t imagine the courage it would take to go to the wilds of California. “You’ll need more rugged clothes if you are going West,” she pointed out, gesturing to his tailored coat.

He burst out laughing, but it was a good laugh, not high-pitched and not too hearty.

“May I assist you?” He offered his hand. After a brief hesitation, she put her hand in his. He easily pulled her off the ground. She was small and he was very tall. Her hand lingered on his and for just a moment she could feel the roughness of his skin.

“Your hands prove you aren’t a student,” she said. “Amherst students rarely work hard enough to callus their hands.”

“You’re the local expert on college students?” he teased.

“I know all of them,” she sighed. “My father is . . . connected with the College.”

To her pleasure, the stranger didn’t seem interested in her father. As if it were of no importance, he asked, “What were you doing down there, anyway?”

She paused, considering his intelligent eyes. Finally, she told the bald truth without explanation: “Hoping a bee would land on my nose.”

He nodded, as though that made all the sense in the world. The silence lengthened while Emily waited for the inevitable question. Finally she said, “You aren’t going to ask me why?”

He pursed his lips. “I suspect you want to know what it feels like.”

His easy understanding was like a blow to the body. She nodded, speechless.

“But aren’t you afraid of being stung?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It hasn’t happened yet.” She paused. “But I’m sure it will be excruciating.”

His forehead crinkled and his mouth twisted to stop a smile. “And that’s a good thing?

“It’s a new experience. If you are sequestered at home, as I am, new experiences are to be savored.”

“Perhaps you’ll be lucky,” he said. “I have a relation who keeps bees. He doesn’t even notice the beestings.”

“I’m very sensitive to natural poisons,” Emily assured him. “Of all the girls in my botany class, I reacted most to poison oak. So if I’m stung, it’s bound to be painful. But I still hope a bee will visit.”

“You’ve picked a good spot,” he said, “with all these
wildflowers about.”

“So far the bees have decided my nose is not the place for them.” She picked a long blade of grass from her braid of red hair and smoothed her dark cotton skirt. It was short, showing several inches above her ankle. Her mother scolded her daily to wear longer dresses that were appropriate to her fifteen years. Emily usually chose the shorter dress that permitted free movement, but today she wished she had listened to her mother.

“Lavender is a favorite for bees.” He looked around and spied a purple bush. He pulled a sprig from it and handed it to her. “Try this.”

She secreted his offering in her pocket. “And whom do I have the pleasure of thanking for my gift?

He started to introduce himself, then seemed to think better of it. “I’m nobody important.” He grinned, revealing a mouth of straight teeth. “Who are you?”

Emily paused. She was the eldest daughter of one of the town fathers and everyone knew her name. But this stranger didn’t.

How dreary to be somebody all the time, she thought. Feeling very mischievous, she said, “I’m nobody too.”

“Hello, Miss Nobody,” he said with an inclination of his head. “Do you live around here?”

She nodded. “Just beyond that stand of white pines.” Harmless as he might appear, it wouldn’t hurt for him to know that her home and family were close.

“It’s a pleasing spot. Amherst always was a pretty town.”

“You aren’t from around here.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’ve visited Amherst before,” he said, “but I don’t belong anywhere.” The gleam in his eye forbade her to pity him. After a moment, he asked, “How old are you?”

“Almost sixteen,” she said.

“So fifteen,” he said, but in such a genial way Emily didn’t take offense. “And why aren’t you in school, if it’s so important? Are you playing truant?”

“I go to Amherst Academy. It’s just up the road off the Common, but we’re between terms right now.”

“And you’re free to frolic with the bees? No chores at home calling out for you to do?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I don’t blame you, Miss Nobody,” he said. “I ran away from home to be free from what was expected of me.”

“I’ll go home soon,” she said. “But only when the washing is finished!”

“Much better to make friends with bees.” He looked around thoughtfully. “But if you’re fifteen—excuse me, almost sixteen—you’re old enough to know that if you really want to attract a bee, you need to be sweeter.”

Emily felt a hint of a blush on her cheeks. “My family is always complaining of my prickly disposition,” she agreed.

“I’m sure that’s not true.” He bowed gallantly. “I meant you must taste of summer. That’s what a bee wants. Close your eyes.”

Emily pursed her lips, considering him and his odd request. His open visage reassured her, and with hardly any reluctance she did as he asked.

“Oh!” she said, stepping back in surprise. He had dabbed her nose with a sticky substance. She opened her eyes and saw that he held a chunk of oozing honeycomb in his right hand.

“This will summon every bee in the township.” His eyebrows lifted, almost daring her to take offense.

“We’ll have to see, won’t we, Mr. Nobody?” Emily crossed her eyes to catch a glimpse of her nose.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “I must be going now.”

“To California?

“Soon. First I have to take care of some family business.” His genial mood disappeared like a shadow at high noon. He folded his honeycomb back in the handkerchief. She noticed a monogram with a bold “JW” embroidered with black silk thread. “Some unpleasant accounts need to be settled.”

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