Lost Among the Living(56)
“Good afternoon, Cora,” I said. If she insisted on addressing me like an ancient matron, I might as well act like one.
Martin glanced back at the house, where undoubtedly at least one parent was watching us from a window. “Let’s head off and figure out today’s route.”
He offered Cora his arm, and she took it, squeezing it a little and turning the smile on him. Martin said something to her as they walked, and Cora laughed, the sound honking over the trees. “You’re a funny one,” she said, her voice drifting back to me where I followed behind them. Then she leaned in toward him and said something I couldn’t hear.
I sighed. Chaperoning was positively the worst job in the world, worse than taking Dottie’s abuse in the library or listening to Casparov’s innuendoes. So far, I’d had to sit out of earshot as the two of them strolled among the abandoned stables and the overgrown tennis courts. I’d brought a book with me the second time, when it became clear I didn’t particularly need to stare at the courting couple as they sat side by side, talking quietly, Cora occasionally laughing at Martin’s jokes. Today they’d decided to walk in the woods. I swallowed my dread and tried to appear calm about it. It wouldn’t do for the dried-up chaperone to go raving about mists and dogs barking and Martin’s dead sister at the crucial point of the courtship.
When we were well into the trees, Martin stopped and Cora dropped her hand from his arm.
“Where d’you want to go?” Martin asked her.
Cora snapped her sleeve smartly and checked her watch. “I don’t know. How long will satisfy them?”
“Forty-five minutes or so,” Martin said. He turned to me. “What do you think, Cousin Jo?”
I shrugged. “Forty-five minutes sounds good to me.”
“All right,” Martin said. The wind blew through the trees, and the tips of his ears were already growing red with cold. He turned to Cora. “That gives me enough time to take you over the rise toward the village before we have to turn back. It’s a bit steep in places, though. What do you think?”
She bit her lip, her eyes on Martin’s face. “I’m dressed nice and I didn’t eat much breakfast,” she said. “Can we do something easier?”
In that moment, I began to like Cora Staffron. Despite her thin frame and no doubt knobby knees, she was hardy and could have done the walk—or even a longer one—without losing her breath. It was Martin who would struggle. I silently applauded her.
“Easier? Yes, I suppose.” Martin thought it over, oblivious to the subtext. “We’ll go toward the village. Then I’ll bring you around the back way by the path through the woods. No rocks that way. Sound good?”
“Well, sure,” Cora said.
Martin turned back to me. “Right back here in forty-five minutes, then. Do you have somewhere to go, Cousin?”
I paused in surprise, and his cheeks flushed. It had been demeaning enough to follow them about before, but now I was to be overtly abandoned. I recovered myself. “Yes, of course,” I said.
Cora looked at me brightly. “You should have brought some birding binoculars. You could have smuggled them under your coat and no one watching would know.”
I stared at her. She really did see me as ancient. “Or perhaps I should have brought a flask.”
She only laughed. “Wouldn’t that be funny!”
I agreed it would be, and we went our separate ways. It was a relief of sorts—I realized as I stepped into the shadowed silence that I had been straining even to make the most meaningless small talk. But I did not want to be alone in the woods, even on a sunny day. When they were out of sight, I paused on the path, and my gloved hand slipped into my pocket and touched the piece of paper there.
Keep it together, Jo.
The fear closed around me for a full moment as I listened to the soft sounds of the forest, the wind rushing through the trees, the far-off calls of birds. I could not go back to the house, or everyone would know that Martin and Cora were alone. And I could not follow them and intrude.
So I kept walking. Martin had told me once of a particularly nice vista over the sea, in the other direction from the village, so I took the path away from my charges. I made my way over the treacherous ground on numb feet, stepping over ruts and puddles, sweating beneath my coat and hat as I climbed a rise, the wind chilling the thin perspiration on my forehead.
When I finally reached the place, I stopped in silent wonder. I was at the very western edge of the woods, on the side facing away from the house and the village, at the place where the trees ended. Just past my feet was a clearing that fell off and sloped sharply down, and beyond it the rocky terrain wound along the coast toward the horizon. The ocean was gray and cold below me, the shore sharp and forbidding, but still the view was breathtaking. I let the wind buffet the brim of my hat and the collar of my coat, taking in the vast expanse.
Just visible several miles down the shore was a low and blocky set of buildings, clustered within a fenced-in square of land. It sat quiet and dull in the sunshine, placed right on the edge of the water, where several small boats were moored. This must be the Ministry of Fisheries, where Colonel Mabry claimed to be assisting somehow. It looked sleepy and silent, and I saw not a whisper of movement.
I turned back to look at the water. There were no pleasure boats, no sloops or neat little sails. This was choppy water, deep and cold. Far on the horizon was the silhouette of a large ship, its smokestacks belting into the sky. Seabirds crisscrossed the shoreline, calling to one another in high, shrill voices. I saw not one other human figure.