“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.”
FOOD 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.
“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.”
FOOD 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.
