“Everyone in the family will know because we have a connection at times that affects all of us. A Bonding affects us all since it’s the enlarging of our circle to include fresh blood. It hasn’t happened for a long time so it’s a very good thing.”
“They cut him in a lot of places,” Gus said. “On the bottoms of his feet so he couldn’t try to go for help—”
“Leave it there,
please
.” Gray’s nerves jumped. Gus was fixated on this now, but there were many things better left unsaid.
“I’ll always hate what they did to you, Gray, but I’m glad I was the one who went out on the call. At the hospital they cleaned up inside his mouth and they had to do some grafts, but he’s okay.”
“Of course he is,” Marley said, and caught Willow’s eye. Willow had not only been able to see the scars when Marley couldn’t, in full daylight, she had known she was seeing some sort of reflection from old wounds that weren’t visible on the outside, on his face.
Marley didn’t intend to let her sister hide away all her lights again.
This time it was her phone that rang and she backed away from the others a little to talk.
“Marley, is that you?” a woman said for the second time. “Answer me.”
“Who are you?” Marley asked cautiously.
“It’s Sidney, of course. I need to see you right now.”
T
he moment Marley had hung up from talking to Sidney Fournier, the Ushers started rustling and arguing across her mind.
“Don’t let Gray hear you. He’s more aware all the time. You talked to him when I wasn’t there—I can’t believe that,”
she had told them.
But they couldn’t keep quiet. Their whispers followed her from the cottage, into Gray’s car and kept coming in little bursts while they drove toward J. Clive Millet and the Court of Angels.
“You okay?” Gray asked. He braked the Volvo for an accordionist who played and sang his way across the street despite the rain and occasional rumbles of thunder.
“He needs to get in out of this storm,” Marley said. Lightning ripped the hot sky, but the musician played on.
“Marley, are you okay?” Gray said again.
“Great,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. The shop is my turf and it’s the best place for me to meet Sidney alone.” The whispering rose again and she frowned fiercely.
“Stop it now. All of you. We’ll talk when I’m alone.”
“Are you angry about something?” Gray said.
She looked at him. “No. Why?”
“I thought you were talking to yourself. Why can’t I be there with you when Sidney comes?”
“She won’t open up if you are. She felt some sort of
understanding coming from me and she’s decided to trust me. I think she’ll tell me about last night.”
Gray had told her exactly what Nat said on the phone and she was ready to listen closely to Sidney when she came—which wouldn’t be for three hours—something Marley hadn’t told Gray when she agreed to have him drop her at the shop. Sidney had said she wanted to meet Marley right away, then changed her mind and asked to come later.
Marley had a feeling. Not just any ordinary feeling, but a strong compulsion to spend time alone with the red chinoiserie house. Each time she touched it, she held her breath, expecting the Ushers to tune up and for the portal to appear. But she did not have to enter that portal until she made the decision she wanted to and this morning she wouldn’t go anywhere until she answered some of her own questions.
Gray had seen the Mentor. They had talked. Family loyalty pushed her toward telling Uncle Pascal and the others, but she had to be sure Gray hadn’t imagined—or misunderstood—the whole thing.
Just the idea that the mystery they had always lived with might actually be solved made her jumpy with excitement. What would it mean to them all if the Mentor became an active part of their lives?
“Sidney wouldn’t have to know I was there,” Gray said.
“You don’t give up, do you?” she said. “I’d know if you were there even if I couldn’t see you.”
He slammed a fist on the wheel and Marley jumped. And like a naughty boy, he grinned at her. “Got your attention.
You’d
know I was around—I really like that. But Sidney isn’t you and if she has ESP I think you’d know.”
She glowered at him.
“Wouldn’t you?” He looked a little less full of himself.
Marley crossed her arms and let him suffer until she felt sorry for him. Then she said, “Yes, I would. You’re developing like a racehorse with the finish line in sight. Pretty
soon you’ll pick out the real thing from the wannabes yourself. And don’t start swaggering around every fortune-teller and tarot reader’s pad accusing them of fraud because most of them are genuine.”
“You’re kidding. Fringed tablecloths and chintzy psychedelic wall hangings? Bead curtains? It’s all a rip-off.”
“It’s not,” Marley said. “And you’re making me angry.”
“Ooh, I’m so scared,” he said in a high voice.
Marley glanced at his big, capable hands, narrowed her eyes, but couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from twitching. She constricted her concentration to one of his knuckles and stared.
“Ouch!” Gray shook his hand in the air and put the knuckle between his lips.”
“What’s the matter?” Marley asked.
“Ouch,” he repeated. “Something stung me.”
She sank into her seat. “Sorry.” And she was. She had supposedly grown out of childish tricks years ago.
Gray glanced at her, but she didn’t meet his eyes. “Did you do that to me?” he said.
She shrugged.
“You did. That was mean.”
“It was. I’m sorry, but you made fun of me. It was only a little pinch, anyway.”
Gray smiled and shook his head. “I forgive you. But I’m going to be careful to tiptoe around you in future.”
“No you won’t. You’ll forget and do it again.” She tipped up her nose. “But I don’t care. I’ll rise above it next time.”
“I’m coming with you,” Gray said.
“No, you’re not. Nat’s waiting for you.” Nat had called Gray back just as they were leaving the cottage.
“Let him wait.”
Marley turned in her seat and rested her face on his shoulder. “There are a lot of things I need to tell you, but they’ll have to come out slow.”
“I’m trying to cope with that, but you’ve got to promise me something right now.”
Winnie yawned in the backseat. She lay with all four feet in the air and didn’t as much as flicker her eyelids when they went over a bump or made a sudden stop.
“Pay attention,” Gray said. “Please—note how polite I’m being—
please
don’t leave your body while I’m gone.”
She bowed her head so he couldn’t see her smile.
“Will you listen to me?” he said. “I’m asking a woman not to leave her body. This is what you’ve reduced me to. Say it. You won’t leave your body while I’m away.”
She didn’t intend to, but what if something unexpected came up and she had to make a snap decision?
“No promise from you means Gray’s not going anywhere. I’ll stick to you, lady.”
Marley breathed in loudly through her nose. “Okay, I promise.”
“Let me see your hands,” he said and when she showed them, he said, “Now say it again.”
“Why?”
“You might have had your fingers crossed.”
She burst out laughing. “Well, I didn’t. But to repeat, I promise to remain in my body at least until I see the whites of your eyes again. Now stop here. If Pascal’s in the shop and sees the car he’ll want you to come in.”
Gray frowned. “Why would he?”
“Because Sister Willow has a big mouth and a cell phone—and Uncle will want to start the interrogation.”
“Interrogation?” He pulled up to the curb on Royal Street while Marley chastised her own loose tongue.
“Later,” she said, and hopped out. “Stay where you are. No need for both of us to get sodden.”
“When you see Willow, tell her I think that’s some rig she’s got,” Gray said. “The green-and-white scooter with the little trailer on the back. Pretty hard to miss.”
“That’s the idea.”
She hauled Winnie out and set her down on the sidewalk where water ran in mini-eddies. “Poor baby,” Marley said. “Stuffed into that nasty old trailer.” Winnie whined and danced to keep her feet as dry as possible.
Marley bent down and looked toward Gray, who turned in the driver’s seat. “See you,” she said. “Be careful.”
“See you,” he echoed. “I care about you.”
She couldn’t move for an instant. They stared at each other, unsmiling.
“Go,” Gray said. “You’re getting soaked.”
She slammed the door and ran with Winnie to the shop and inside the front door.
He did care about her, Gray thought, turning off the windshield wipers and making the car a private place to consider what had just happened. No declarations of love, no kisses, but when he told her he cared he might as well have told her he loved her. He did. For the first and only time in his life he knew how it felt to love a woman.
The car had already been at the curb longer than was allowed. He turned the wipers on again and looked in the wing mirror before starting to pull away.
Straight ahead, a woman in wet jeans and a sweatshirt darted toward J. Clive Millet Antiques. In front of one window, she stopped and peered through the glass. She put a hand above her eyes to shield them.
She took a few steps toward the door, then backed away. Quickly, she turned and he thought she would run away, but she skidded to a halt and returned, to look through the other window this time.
“Well, hell,” Gray said under his breath. He turned off the car and got out. There would be a ticket, but so what?
Unfortunately he didn’t get close enough to grab Pipes Dupuis before she saw him and started really running. She
flung her arms out and cannoned off people she passed. This woman wasn’t a natural runner.
He caught up with her just after she turned onto Conti Street. A truck passed, sending up a rooster tail of water that soaked them both from head to foot and he took advantage of her confusion to push her through an open gate leading to a passageway behind a hotel.
“Let me go,” she said, hardly able to get the words out. “Please. I’ve got to go.”
“You wanted to go into Millet’s Antiques. Why?”
“I was just looking in the window.” She panted and shook.
Gray didn’t like making her more frightened than she already was. “Calm down, Pipes. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll help you if I can. Tell me what I can do.”
She leaned to see around him, then looked behind her. “You just go out the way we came in,” she said. “I’ll go around the back of the hotel and find another way.”
“You’re hiding,” he said.
Her blond hair hung in wet, dark strands. Looking into her eyes was painful. She was desperate.
“Has someone threatened you?”
Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks, mixing with the rainwater there. “I can’t say,” she whispered. “If you don’t let me go it might be very bad for me.”
He took a risk Marley probably wouldn’t like. “How did you get those marks on the back of your neck?”
If possible, she turned paler. She wrapped a hand around her neck. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No.” She shook her head hard.
He wasn’t getting anywhere with the direct approach. “Are you still living with Sidney?”
No response.
“Sidney’s coming to Millet’s soon, did you know that?”
Still no response.
“Were you trying to talk to Marley before Sidney got there?”
Pipes shook her head hard. “I…I need…” She made a choking noise. “You mustn’t try to follow me or do anything at all about seeing me. Don’t tell anyone. If you do—” She tried to push past him.
“If I do?” He caught her by the shoulder and moved her hair aside. Two long red marks marred the white skin at the back of her neck.
“Let me go!”
He stood aside at once. “You need help,” he told her.
“We need to live,” Pipes said, racing away, her arms flapping.
Marley closed and locked the door to her workroom behind her and hurried to the bench.
Fate had smiled on her and Uncle Pascal had been tied up with a customer when she and Winnie passed through the shop and went upstairs. But he had made signals that were supposed to make her stay down there and wait until he was free.
She had smiled and jogged up the stairs. She didn’t want the interrogation to begin and she had a lot to do.
Any talk of the Mentor must wait for Gray to agree. The story was his.
“Lie down,” she told Winnie, who jumped on the recliner and did a lot of sighing.
With the lights over the workbench fully on, the red house looked garish and out of place. Marley deliberately rested both hands on the roof with its curly corners. Her tummy made a nasty flip. She held still while her breathing speeded. She realized she was waiting and expecting the Ushers and the formation of a funnel with a tacky texture that stuck to her hands.
Nothing happened.
She pulled on her magnifying goggles and settled them above her eyes, ready for when they were needed.
With the naked eye she could see how crazed and chipped
the paint had become, but in a fine, close way typical of an old piece. At some time, she thought the dollhouse had been refinished—probably more than once. She could see the suggestion of a flake beneath another flake. It was set on a base about four inches thick and painted green.
Here and there artificial bushes remained although she could see the places where others had been lost over the years. A low, wooden fence surrounded the garden. A border beside a pathway to the corner door was worn down to a gray stubble and more paths made a pattern across the grounds. Beds dotted with dusty flowers looked unlikely. An outbuilding could be a supposed stable. She pulled open a tiny door and found a tiny horse inside.
There was a potting shed, a teahouse, a pool and elaborate white pool house. She smiled. Any child would have loved this when all the pieces were there.
The corner door to the house troubled Marley. It didn’t fit with the rest of the architecture. Set at a forty-five-degree angle to the corner of the house, with a tiled roof, a window on either side showed piles of little painted cakes—or bread rolls. Like a shop.
There was no name over the door.
With great care, she turned the house on its side. A small space showed between the bottom of the angled door and the base, and when she flipped the magnifying lenses down and used a tiny scalpel to explore the crack, she felt the whole facade of the entrance move.
Sweat popped out on her brow and she swiped at it with a forearm.
A few tiny, prying movements with the scalpel and the space around the door widened. Without warning, it popped off and Marley barely caught it before it would have fallen to the floor.
With her hands behind her back and her nose only inches from the house, she studied what was a corner of the house
that matched all the others, apart from the color of lacquer. Here the wall was a washed-out terra-cotta, very faded, but absolutely level with its neighbors. The color reminded her of stucco. The door on the corner had been an addition.
She went from one side to the other, looking for any sign of another door. For the first time she realized there was no other door and the back of the house, which should open to allow a child to play with furniture inside, was secured shut.
With pressure on one side of the base where it lay on the workbench, another gap had formed. The bottom was coming loose.