Ghostly Echoes (Jackaby #3)(75)

“How do you feel?” Jackaby said.

“Good.” Jenny considered the question earnestly. “I feel good. I thought I would hate her. I thought I would want to hurt her, but I don’t. Not really. It feels strangely liberating.”

“Excellent,” Jackaby said. “That’s excellent.”

“And then there’s Howard,” she continued. “After all these years of wondering—it’s strange to just know. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to, and now I know. Howard is dead.”

“He died a hero.”

“Of course he did.” Jenny smiled. “I only wish you could have known him. The two of you are more than a little alike.”

“You’re handling all of this well.” Jackaby said. “I must admit I wasn’t certain you would be here to have this conversation. I was afraid . . .”

“Afraid?”

“Of losing . . . Afraid that you . . .” He took a deep breath and tried again. “There were some very big questions keeping you tethered to the land of the living, Miss Cavanaugh. I was afraid that finding answers—finding closure—might cut your ties to this world.”

“I should have moved on to the other side by now.” Jenny nodded. “I wasn’t certain about that, either. I might have crossed over straightaway if I had found those answers years ago. I guess I wasn’t satisfied with just being that girl who died. She’s a part of me, but I do believe I’m more than an echo now. Maybe I’m not supposed to be more, but I am. I have new thoughts and feelings.” She bit her lip and looked away from Jackaby. “They’re maddening sometimes—but they’re mine, and not hers. They’re emotions the woman I used to be never knew, and that means I must be somebody right now. Whatever else I am, I’m my own somebody—and I’m not done figuring out who that is just yet.”

I have seen Jackaby look through people and over people. I have seen him regard people like science experiments and like puzzle pieces. While Jenny spoke, he looked into her eyes like I have never seen him look at anyone before. It was unexpectedly tender.

“Perhaps I should excuse myself,” I said.

“No, Miss Rook.” Jackaby turned away, pulling the little red pouch out of his coat and setting it on the desk. Inside was the strange stone that Pavel had given me. “We need to talk.”

“I’m afraid that may have to wait,” said Charlie from the doorway. We turned.

“Was there a problem?” Jackaby stiffened. “Morwen?”

“Is secured in your cellar. She was very compliant. We could use chains like that one on the police department. The thing is, the cellar was already occupied. Do you know this woman?”

He stepped aside, and the widow Cordelia Hoole came forward. In her arms was a little girl in a yellow dress. “Mrs. Hoole,” I managed. “We weren’t expecting—Is that Mrs. Wick’s child?”

“No,” said Jackaby. He stepped up and tickled the chubby little toddler on her chin. “She’s not.”

“You’re right,” Mrs. Hoole confirmed. “I know that you don’t like secrets, Mr. Jackaby. Forgive me. This is Hope. She is my secret.”

“Why ever should a child be secret?” asked Jackaby. “Children make terrible secrets. They are much too conspicuous. Loud, stinking, prone to fits.”

“Sir,” I said. “Mrs. Hoole and the professor were only wed for a year.”

“Yes? So?” said Jackaby.

“That girl is at least two years old. She isn’t Professor Hoole’s daughter, is she?” I asked. “That was your big secret.”

Mrs. Hoole shook her head. “I wasn’t born into Lawrence’s world,” she said. “I’ve lived through things—things I never want my child to see.” She took a deep breath. “It was for the best she never knew her real father. I wanted a better life for her than the one I had known. I looked to marry someone with money, someone on the way up. After Hope was born I began hanging about the college, looking to court a naive, wealthy student. Someone with prospects.

“A bit by mistake, I caught the eye of a kind but rather lonely professor instead. I kept my old life hidden from Lawrence, kept Hope hidden. Mrs. Wick looked after her while we courted. After he proposed—I’m so embarrassed—I was just in too deep. I was never disloyal. The fact is, I had accidentally fallen in love right back. I loved Lawrence, but I loved Hope too much to risk his leaving me should I ever tell him the truth. As soon as we were married, I begged Lawrence to hire a live-in housemaid. I told him I knew a woman who had been good to my family, and that she had a little girl to look after. Mrs. Wick came to live with us, and with her came my little Hope.

“That’s why I didn’t bring her with me when I came to meet you. I didn’t know if I could trust you. But then you stopped that terrible man from killing me and you gave me shelter from the creatures. I heard them up above me after you had gone. It was a terrible noise. They came to the cellar door, crashing and thudding—but they couldn’t get in. Your protection may be the only reason I’m alive, Detective. I left to bring Hope back, to keep her under that same protection, if you’ll permit it.”

Jackaby looked dour. “I cannot.”

“Please, Detective. My little Hope didn’t choose to be who she was. She didn’t choose to have a woman like me for a mother. She didn’t ask for any of it. I’m not perfect, Mr. Jackaby, but I would give everything for my daughter.”