He hesitated before shaking his head. “No, love. She died about ten years ago. It - the report indicated that she took her own life.”
Tessa buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God. Was she ill like my mother was? Is that what caused her to commit suicide?”
Ian reached across the gear shift and wrapped his arms around her trembling body. “I don’t know for certain,” he admitted. “The agency wasn’t able to uncover any medical records, just her death certificate.”
She nodded. “I understand.” She looked outside the window, reluctant to get out of the car, but realized this might be the only opportunity she would ever have to see the place where her mother had once lived. “I guess as long as we’re here we should get out for a few minutes.”
“Of course. We’ll give it a lookover, then go back into town. I thought perhaps we might stop by the school and see if there were any records of your mother, maybe a teacher who remembered her that we could talk to for a few minutes.”
Tessa smiled at him gratefully. “That would be wonderful, Ian. Thank you.”
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re very welcome, love. Hang on, I’ll come get the door.”
Ian always insisted on opening the car door for her wherever they went, just one of the many little ways he spoiled her, and yet another example of his perfect, gentlemanly manners. He took her hand and helped her out of the rented BMW, and Tessa shivered the moment her feet touched the ground - a reaction due only in part to the frigid late winter climate. Being this close to the house where she knew her mother had experienced such unhappiness and abuse made her entire body feel ice cold, both inside and out.
She was grateful that she’d heeded Ian’s advice this morning and dressed warmly for this outing, wearing dark skinny jeans, a chunky cream turtleneck sweater, knee high brown leather boots, and a quilted brown nylon jacket. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket, wishing she’d thought to bring along her gloves and a wool cap, but she was warm enough for the moment and had no intention of lingering in this place for more than a few minutes.
“Come. Let’s have a closer look, shall we?”
Ian placed his hand on the small of her back and urged her up the cracked, uneven pathway that led to the front of the house. Tessa snuggled against him, seeking out both his warmth and reassurance, as she took a tentative step onto the rickety porch.
“Do you think anyone has lived here since my grandmother died?” she asked, trying to peer inside the grimy window.
Ian shook his head. “From the way it’s been neglected, I would say not. There’s been a considerable amount of damage to the roof, so the place is virtually uninhabitable. And though it’s difficult to see inside through these filthy windows, it doesn’t appear that there’s any furniture or other belongings still inside. Most likely after your grandmother died the bank who held the mortgage simply repossessed it, and has never been able to sell the place. Small wonder, considering the shape it’s in, not to mention I noticed several other abandoned houses as we were driving up the road.”
Tessa nodded, noticing the padlock on the front door that was undoubtedly meant to keep out squatters or wild animals from taking up residence. Though why any creature would want to live in such a place was beyond her imagination. Even during those months when she’d been homeless, living in her car the way she’d done would have been preferable to staying in this rundown, neglected little house.
She placed a hand on the front door as she tried to peer inside the window, but it was too dark inside to make out any details. The whole place, however, inside and out, had long ago been abandoned and forgotten, a house where no one had lived for more than a decade, and where Tessa knew that very bad things had happened.
She jerked her hand away from the door suddenly, as though she’d been burned, even though the air temperature was in the mid-thirties and snow flurries were beginning to form.
“This place is evil,” she whispered. “I can sense it, Ian. All of those horrible things my mother described in her books - she didn’t make them up. They really happened. To her.”
“You don’t know that,” he told her soothingly, his hands gripping her shoulders. “Yes, they were very descriptive, very realistic, but your mother was also an excellent writer, Tessa. She had an extremely vivid imagination, a way with words. For all you know, she could have based her books from newspaper stories about someone else. Or perhaps a school friend that these things happened to.”
“No.” Tessa shook her head. “I just have this feeling, Ian, that every word in those books was true. That it was her life she was describing, her feelings. And if it’s true - my God, what my poor mother suffered. No wonder she couldn’t function during those last few years of her life. How could anyone recover from that sort of mental and physical abuse?”
“Tessa.”
He took her into his arms, holding her tight as her body quivered with unshed tears. She buried her face against his warm, strong chest, breathing in his wonderful, comforting scent as though it might help to purify her mind from the chaotic, troubling thoughts that were being tossed around at the moment.
Gently, Ian began to guide her back down the wobbly front step towards the street. “I think we’ve both seen enough here,” he told her firmly. “Let’s head into town as I mentioned. Unless, of course, you’d rather go directly back to Minneapolis.”
“No.” She gave a brief shake of her head. “I think your idea of trying to find out some more about my mom was a good one. And that the high school is the best place to start.”
Ian was just about to unlock the passenger door for her when a rusty old pick-up truck pulled into the driveway of the house next door. Moments later a woman who looked to be in her mid-sixties got out, and Tessa wasn’t sure who looked the worse for wear - the woman with her frowsy gray hair, unkempt clothing, and lined face, or her beat-up vehicle.
The woman stared at Tessa and Ian as though they had just landed from outer space, and Tessa guessed that the two of them looked terribly out of place in this rundown, rural neighborhood - with their expensive clothing and even more expensive car. And Ian, of course, simply possessed that air of refinement and elegance in every pore of his gorgeous body. No matter what he wore or the type of car he drove, it would always be obvious to anyone that he was someone important, someone who had wealth and power and class.
Tessa buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God. Was she ill like my mother was? Is that what caused her to commit suicide?”
Ian reached across the gear shift and wrapped his arms around her trembling body. “I don’t know for certain,” he admitted. “The agency wasn’t able to uncover any medical records, just her death certificate.”
She nodded. “I understand.” She looked outside the window, reluctant to get out of the car, but realized this might be the only opportunity she would ever have to see the place where her mother had once lived. “I guess as long as we’re here we should get out for a few minutes.”
“Of course. We’ll give it a lookover, then go back into town. I thought perhaps we might stop by the school and see if there were any records of your mother, maybe a teacher who remembered her that we could talk to for a few minutes.”
Tessa smiled at him gratefully. “That would be wonderful, Ian. Thank you.”
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re very welcome, love. Hang on, I’ll come get the door.”
Ian always insisted on opening the car door for her wherever they went, just one of the many little ways he spoiled her, and yet another example of his perfect, gentlemanly manners. He took her hand and helped her out of the rented BMW, and Tessa shivered the moment her feet touched the ground - a reaction due only in part to the frigid late winter climate. Being this close to the house where she knew her mother had experienced such unhappiness and abuse made her entire body feel ice cold, both inside and out.
She was grateful that she’d heeded Ian’s advice this morning and dressed warmly for this outing, wearing dark skinny jeans, a chunky cream turtleneck sweater, knee high brown leather boots, and a quilted brown nylon jacket. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket, wishing she’d thought to bring along her gloves and a wool cap, but she was warm enough for the moment and had no intention of lingering in this place for more than a few minutes.
“Come. Let’s have a closer look, shall we?”
Ian placed his hand on the small of her back and urged her up the cracked, uneven pathway that led to the front of the house. Tessa snuggled against him, seeking out both his warmth and reassurance, as she took a tentative step onto the rickety porch.
“Do you think anyone has lived here since my grandmother died?” she asked, trying to peer inside the grimy window.
Ian shook his head. “From the way it’s been neglected, I would say not. There’s been a considerable amount of damage to the roof, so the place is virtually uninhabitable. And though it’s difficult to see inside through these filthy windows, it doesn’t appear that there’s any furniture or other belongings still inside. Most likely after your grandmother died the bank who held the mortgage simply repossessed it, and has never been able to sell the place. Small wonder, considering the shape it’s in, not to mention I noticed several other abandoned houses as we were driving up the road.”
Tessa nodded, noticing the padlock on the front door that was undoubtedly meant to keep out squatters or wild animals from taking up residence. Though why any creature would want to live in such a place was beyond her imagination. Even during those months when she’d been homeless, living in her car the way she’d done would have been preferable to staying in this rundown, neglected little house.
She placed a hand on the front door as she tried to peer inside the window, but it was too dark inside to make out any details. The whole place, however, inside and out, had long ago been abandoned and forgotten, a house where no one had lived for more than a decade, and where Tessa knew that very bad things had happened.
She jerked her hand away from the door suddenly, as though she’d been burned, even though the air temperature was in the mid-thirties and snow flurries were beginning to form.
“This place is evil,” she whispered. “I can sense it, Ian. All of those horrible things my mother described in her books - she didn’t make them up. They really happened. To her.”
“You don’t know that,” he told her soothingly, his hands gripping her shoulders. “Yes, they were very descriptive, very realistic, but your mother was also an excellent writer, Tessa. She had an extremely vivid imagination, a way with words. For all you know, she could have based her books from newspaper stories about someone else. Or perhaps a school friend that these things happened to.”
“No.” Tessa shook her head. “I just have this feeling, Ian, that every word in those books was true. That it was her life she was describing, her feelings. And if it’s true - my God, what my poor mother suffered. No wonder she couldn’t function during those last few years of her life. How could anyone recover from that sort of mental and physical abuse?”
“Tessa.”
He took her into his arms, holding her tight as her body quivered with unshed tears. She buried her face against his warm, strong chest, breathing in his wonderful, comforting scent as though it might help to purify her mind from the chaotic, troubling thoughts that were being tossed around at the moment.
Gently, Ian began to guide her back down the wobbly front step towards the street. “I think we’ve both seen enough here,” he told her firmly. “Let’s head into town as I mentioned. Unless, of course, you’d rather go directly back to Minneapolis.”
“No.” She gave a brief shake of her head. “I think your idea of trying to find out some more about my mom was a good one. And that the high school is the best place to start.”
Ian was just about to unlock the passenger door for her when a rusty old pick-up truck pulled into the driveway of the house next door. Moments later a woman who looked to be in her mid-sixties got out, and Tessa wasn’t sure who looked the worse for wear - the woman with her frowsy gray hair, unkempt clothing, and lined face, or her beat-up vehicle.
The woman stared at Tessa and Ian as though they had just landed from outer space, and Tessa guessed that the two of them looked terribly out of place in this rundown, rural neighborhood - with their expensive clothing and even more expensive car. And Ian, of course, simply possessed that air of refinement and elegance in every pore of his gorgeous body. No matter what he wore or the type of car he drove, it would always be obvious to anyone that he was someone important, someone who had wealth and power and class.
