Girls of Brackenhill(11)
“Don’t you miss him?” Hannah couldn’t imagine choosing to leave Josh Fink. What if he found someone else over the summer? Julia seemed unconcerned.
“No.” She pulled the hat over her face, propped her head against the raft’s handle. Her voice was muffled from the straw when she said, “Do you think we could ride our bikes into town?”
“Town? Why?” They’d never really done that. Aunt Fae wouldn’t allow it. The shoulder was too narrow, the road too winding, the cars too fast.
“I told you. I’m bored. We know everything about this place. It never changes.”
Bored of me? Hannah wondered but didn’t ask. “That’s not true. Remember the place in the corner? By the embankment? It was in the ground, like a storm shelter. We found it last year but never got the lock off before we had to go home. That was our project this summer. Remember?”
Julia muttered a hmm-mmm, meant to indicate that she was tired. Tired of questions, exploring.
It had been an odd little door, built into the side of a small incline and covered with debris and leaves. They’d asked Uncle Stuart about it, and he’d only squinted his eyes, twisted his mouth, before shaking his head. No, there wasn’t a key. “Probably a root cellar,” he’d said. Hannah had thought about that little door all winter, and now Julia just wanted to forget it!
Hannah slid through the opening of her raft, her legs slick with lotion, her toes barely grazing the bottom. She held her breath and sank down, opened her eyes, the water dappled with sunlight, her long dark hair billowing around her. She sat, the sandpaper concrete against her thighs, her lungs aching, her eyes beginning to prick with starbursts. She watched her sister’s silhouette against the sun, floating aimlessly and undisturbed.
When she finally propelled herself upward and broke the water’s surface with a gasp, Julia didn’t even flinch. Hannah pulled herself up on the side of the pool, toweled off, and went inside. She showered and changed into shorts and a tank top and wandered into the arboretum, a room filled with windows like an enclosed porch with a vaulted glass roof. Her favorite room in the castle, warm, even hot—everyone always complained it was hot, but Hannah thought the sun-filled room felt like a haven. She was dozing lazily, sleepily, on the chaise with a book when she heard a prolonged scream. At first, she thought it was an animal, something getting hunted in the surrounding forest, and only after a moment did she make out Uncle Stuart’s name and realize it was Julia.
Julia!
Hannah raced through the halls, out the back door, and onto the pool deck, reaching it the same time as Uncle Stuart, who’d come running from the garden, gripping a spade in his fist like a weapon.
Julia had pulled her legs onto her raft, the hat floating ten feet away. She gestured wildly, helplessly, toward Uncle Stuart, who gaped at the pool, stunned.
The pool, glittery and blue only an hour ago, had turned rust red. In the bright-white midday sun, if Hannah didn’t know it was impossible, she would have thought it was filled with blood.
CHAPTER NINE
Now
Hannah found the hospice nurse standing in the back hall, blinking. She’d come in the side door, near the driveway, scaring all of them.
“Is Fae here?” the woman asked, and it occurred to Hannah that telling people their loved ones had died was exhausting. Was the nurse a loved one? Maybe. She was at Brackenhill every day. The same woman for over a year, she’d heard.
“I’m Hannah.” She extended her hand, and the nurse shook it. “Please come in.” Which felt stilted and unnecessary. The woman was likely more at home here than Hannah.
“I’m Alice.” She was tall with a wiry build—so thin she appeared gaunt. Her hair was pulled tight against her head, and she wore plain gray scrubs. She gave off an air of no nonsense, something that in regular circumstances Hannah would appreciate, as she always valued efficiency. Nature’s cruel joke, then, that she’d ended up engaged to Huck, whose internal time clock had two speeds: cautious and careful. But Alice, she vibrated nervous energy. Hannah immediately liked her, but without a clear understanding why.
In the living room Hannah motioned to the chair, and it occurred to her that was Uncle Stuart’s old leather La-Z-Boy. Alice sat and stared at her expectantly. Hannah took a seat across from her on a deep-green velvet sofa with worn patches on the armrests and ornate claw feet. Fae’s taste in decorating ran more bohemian than regal, and this living room reflected both the older furnishings inherited with the house and Fae’s tendencies toward plants and natural fibers. The eclectic combination lent itself to comfort and familiarity, even when Hannah hardly remembered any of it. The room was large, spacious to the point of echoing, and too late Hannah realized she and Alice were awkwardly far apart.
“I’m so sorry to tell you this, but there’s been an accident.” Hannah took in a steadying breath, and Alice nodded, a look of realization crossing her face. Hannah continued, “Fae died in a car accident last night.”
Alice’s mouth parted, her eyes widening in shock. “What happened?”
“Valley Road happened. That, and she was likely speeding. We don’t know why, or where she was going. I’m sure the police might touch base with you, considering you saw her every day.”
Alice’s eyes teared up, and she glanced around the room. Hannah had no idea what the nature of their relationship had been—had they been friends? Had they operated as an employer and employee? Had Fae been cool or warm to her? Had she made Alice tea in the afternoons as she’d done for Hannah and Julia?