Little Black Dress with Bonus Material (23 page)

“But you promised!” she wailed, coming off the bed. “You swore to me!”

I flung the door wide to escape just as Ingrid rushed in.

“It's mine, Evelyn! Give it back to me!
I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!
”

I heard her screaming still as I gathered the baby from Jon's arms and told Bridget, “Take us across the river, please.”

I could not stay and listen to her shrieks. Instead, I shut my ears to her cries; I closed myself off to her pain. I had promised to protect Antonia, and I would do that with my dying breath, even if it meant telling my father everything, even if it meant my sister was lost to me forever.

T
oni parked her VW at the end of the graveled drive and got out, gazing over the top of the car as she shut the door.

She hadn't visited the old cottage in forever, not since she was a kid and used to run amok on the grounds, exploring every climbing tree, every hidey-hole, anyplace that might harbor frogs or rocks or wayward ghosts.

Her great-great-grandfather Herman Morgan had supposedly built it to reside in while he began construction on the Victorian, and her parents had even lived there for a time when they were newlyweds, before Toni was born and Granddad had moved them into the main house with him. It was nestled amidst centuries-old oaks, maples, and evergreens; secluded, yet set barely a mile back on an unfarmed acre.

“Anna has agreed to meet you,” Bridget had called earlier to tell her, after the housekeeper had disappeared for most of the afternoon. “Can you be ready in an hour?”

Toni hadn't asked where she'd gone to find Anna. All that mattered was the end result. “Will she be coming to the house?”

“No, child, not there. She does want to see you, but she's nervous. Her memory might not be as clear as it once was, but she does recall enough that she won't set foot in the Victorian, not unless Miss Evie invites her. It's her sister's house now, she says, so it's up to your ma if she ever returns there. I'll take her to the cottage instead.”

“Will you be coming, too?” Toni wouldn't have minded the moral support.

“I'll drop her by, but I won't stay. You can call me when I need to pick her up.”

“Are you sure this is okay?”

Bridget had chuckled. “She won't bite if that's what you're asking.”

“Thank you,” Toni had replied, sure that those two small words weren't near enough. When she'd hung up, her heart had clamored so fiercely in her chest, she prayed it wouldn't leap right out of her rib cage.

She'd located the key on the rack in the kitchen, labeled
HERMAN'S COTTAGE
in her mother's spidery scrawl. Funny how she'd been so disappointed by the key that Greg had given her last week, and this one made her pulse pound.

Arriving on the early side, she saw no sign of Bridget's minivan or evidence that Anna had beat her there. But someone had shoveled the path and the steps had been cleared. If it wasn't Bridget herself, Toni figured she'd asked someone else to do it.

The battered porch stairs creaked beneath her boots as she walked up them, one hand on the metal railing. The wooden shutters and wooden siding were no better off: paint-peeled and gritty, faded from neglect. A bit of melting snow leaked through the porch roof, dripping into a puddle near a dirty welcome mat.

She inhaled a deep, chilly breath and stabbed the key in the lock. Though she tried, she had a hard time getting it to turn and wondered what would happen if she couldn't get in. Then, abruptly, it clicked, the lock spinning, and, with a push, she was inside.

Dust motes danced in the diffused light that made it past grimy windows. She spotted cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling and in the blackened mouth of the big stone fireplace. A noise drew her toward the hearth and, as she went nearer, she heard birds rustling in the chimney, a chatty nest of them doubtless living in the flue.

“Be my guest,” she told them, figuring there were worse places to spend the winter so long as no one was lighting a fire beneath them. Although a fire would have felt awfully good.

Still, it was definitely warmer inside than out, and getting warmer as she approached the bedroom door. Bridget had fired up the Franklin stove set snugly in the corner as it crackled merrily; a neat stack of cut wood sat beside it. For good measure, Toni opened the grate and shoved several more chunks inside. Nearby, two chairs filled a cozy nook, the cushions plumped, and the drapes had been opened, windows washed, to let in the late-afternoon sunshine.

She peeled off her gloves as she wandered about, spying an antique-looking bassinet tucked on the far side of the Eastlake double bed.
I could have napped in that,
she mused, and maybe even Anna and Evie before her. When she'd been growing up, all these things—all the history—had been right under her nose, but she hadn't cared a bit. All she'd thought about was getting out, and now she couldn't get enough.

She went to the bureau and peered into the mirror with its wonderful crackles, thinking of everyone in her family tree who might have gazed in it before her: Evie and Jonathan, Beatrice and Franklin Evans, Charlotte and Joseph Morgan, even Herman Morgan with his grizzled beard and piercing eyes, who'd ventured over from Germany four generations back.

She decided there was definitely something magical about knowing where you came from,
who
you came from—the people, no matter how imperfect—and accepting all their warts. It was never too late to establish those connections, was it?

She felt a sudden shift in the air, a chill, and she breathed in the delicate scent of lily of the valley. A shiver rushed up her back.

Annabelle,
she thought and wondered if she'd been in the cottage already, despite how unlived-in it appeared. Or was it a sign that she'd left something behind, a letter or postcard with
I AM HERE
scrawled across it.

Her palms became damp, and she had a sudden sense that she'd forgotten something. Maybe it was just nerves at finally meeting her aunt. All she knew of Annabelle thus far was from Bridget and from Evie's photographs. Would Anna be distant? Would she open up? Would her treatment at the sanitarium have left her angry? Or, even worse, would she change her mind and decide not to come?

Dearest Antonia.

Toni could swear she heard someone speak her name. She paused to listen, but the house merely creaked in response. She headed back into the living room, slightly spooked by the feeling that she wasn't alone. As she rounded the corner, she felt a rush of cold air, pushing at her. She looked up, thinking the door had blown wide, and then stopped in her tracks.

“Hello?”

She heard a tiny voice and realized a woman stood at the cottage's threshold as if afraid to cross without an invitation.

“Hello,” Toni said and stared dumbly at her. She hadn't detected tires crunching on the gravel or a slamming car door. It was as though Evie's long-lost sister had appeared out of thin air; and, in a way, she truly had.

“Antonia?” the woman asked, pushing down the hood of her gray cloak, revealing short white hair and pale skin feathered by age. “It is you? I'm your— I'm Anna.”

If Toni had expected her aunt to appear overtly unstable or beaten down by her years in the state hospital, there was no evidence of either. In fact, she seemed downright serene. Though time-worn, her features bordered on delicate; her voice breathy, girlish even. Without having viewed Evie's photographs or having seen the woman's face in her vision, Toni would have recognized Anna as surely as she recognized her own reflection.

“Did I frighten you?” she asked, coming inside and closing the door.

Toni stood there, saying nothing, all her social skills honed by years of pandering to dilettantes, debutantes, and brides falling by the wayside. Her mind raced, knowing that
this
was Annabelle Evans, live and in the flesh.
This
was Evie's little sister, the one who could help her bring her mother back.

“My dear Antonia, you look like you've seen a ghost.”

Well, she
had
.

“Aunt Annabelle,” Toni breathed the name. “I had thought you were dead.”

“There were times I felt as good as dead,” Anna murmured, looking around her. “And yet here I am.”

“Yes, here you are.” Toni's emotions spilled over, and she rushed toward the petite woman, catching her in a most awkward hug. “Thank you for coming! I'm so glad to see you. I know it must be hard.”

“So much of life is hard,” her aunt whispered, and Toni stepped back to find the dark blue eyes filled with tears. “But seeing you is good for my soul.”

“I wish I'd known you before.” Toni's gut wrenched, hating the fact that a long-ago spat between two sisters had kept them all apart. Honestly, she didn't care whatever terrible thing her aunt had done. She'd paid for it, hadn't she? Shut away in the mental hospital for decades. Didn't she deserve a chance as much as anyone? “I feel like I missed so much.”

“I feel the same,” Anna whispered and turned away.

Toni touched her aunt's shoulder. “Won't you come in?” she said and gestured toward the rear of the cottage. “Bridget's got the stove going in the master and some chairs dusted off, so we might as well sit down for a bit. We have a lot to talk about, you and I.”

“Yes”—Anna nodded—“I imagine we do.”

Toni started back, walking fast, eager to sit down and chat; but her aunt dragged her feet, stopping now and then to rest her hand upon the back of a chair or the dusty top of the rough-hewn dining table.

“How sad it looks,” she said wistfully. “I'm sure it's missed having people in it, hearing voices and laughter.”

“No one's lived here since my parents moved into the Victorian to be with my grandpa.” As Toni said it, she wondered if that was something Anna already knew.

But Anna didn't seem to notice. She seemed more concerned with the state of the place. She fingered the dusty frame of a seascape on the wall. “It needs to be loved again,” she said. “Things fall to ruin if they're neglected.”

“A nest of birds has taken residence,” Toni remarked, jerking her chin toward the chimney. “You can hear them chirp if you're quiet.”

“I have learned to be very quiet.” Anna smiled but the light didn't quite reach her eyes. “Evie used to be the wallflower, not I, but then she's not been shocked and pumped full of medicine, has she?”

They'd done all kinds of treatment on Miss Anna at that sanitarium, and it made her docile as a mouse.

“This way,” Toni said and swallowed down her pity. She took her aunt's arm and gently guided her toward the bedroom.

Avoiding the sheet-draped bed, Anna made a beeline toward one of the chairs and perched upon it. She cocked her head this way and that, studying Toni for a few minutes before she said, “You have our chin and the Evans nose.” She pleated her brow in concentration and squinted. “I do believe you have my eyes.”

“Do I?” Toni laughed, sinking into the opposite chair, pulled so close together their knees touched. “But I have my father's mouth,” she remarked as she unbuttoned her coat. “His
big
mouth, to quote my mom.”

“Your father?” Anna repeated, clearly confused.

“Jon Ashton,” Toni said to help her out.

But Anna shook her head. “No, your father was—” Again, she faltered.

“He was a good man,” Toni filled in for her. “A great dad. He passed away two years ago. Did you know him?”

“Jonathan,” Anna murmured. “Evie's husband.”

“He was the best,” Toni said, her voice catching. “I was lucky.”

“And your mother, was she the best as well?” Anna asked and watched her closely. She sat ramrod-straight, her body still save for her gloved hands worrying themselves, clasping and unclasping in her lap.

Toni wasn't sure how to answer except to be blunt, though being so honest felt a little like blasphemy. “Evie and I”—she bit her lip—“well, we've had our share of problems, but it wasn't all her fault. It was my fault, too, and I understand better now. She was afraid of losing me, because she'd lost so many people she loved. Her mother and father. My dad. You.” Her throat closed up. “Just as I'm afraid of losing her now.”

“Evie didn't lose me,” Anna said as her eyes narrowed on the bassinet. “She cast me aside.” She chewed on her cheek, patting hands on her knees, adding with a sigh, “Though perhaps I was partly to blame.”

Believe me, she had her reasons.

“I'm sorry for you both,” Toni said, “and for whatever tore you apart.”

Anna's hands fluttered to her throat. “Did she ever tell you what I did that upset her most?”

“No, and I don't care,” Toni replied, and she meant it.

“Truly, you don't?” Anna's white brows arched, and her hands became very still. “It is good to be so accepting. I had hoped you'd grow up with an open mind. Your mother could be so—”

“Intense?” Toni suggested, and her aunt nearly smiled.

“I was going to say stubborn.”

“She wanted to be rid of her grudge,” Toni told her. “I'm sure of it. Otherwise, she wouldn't have gone up to the attic that morning, she wouldn't have been looking through old photographs when the stroke hit. My mother misses you.”

There,
she went ahead and said what needed saying.

“Dear girl.” Anna let out a dry laugh. “How would you know such a thing if she didn't talk about me?”

“I just do, and I can prove it.” Toni jumped to her feet, suddenly realizing what she'd forgotten. “Stay here, will you? I need to fetch a box from the car.”

Leaving her coat unbuttoned and gloves in her pockets, she rushed through the cottage and flew out the door, breathing in the chilly air as she skimmed down the steps and strode toward the VW. She wiped her runny nose on her sleeve before she tugged open the passenger door and retrieved a shoebox from the seat.

By the time she made it back inside, she was breathing hard and almost missed seeing her aunt crouching on the fireplace hearth, leaning near the chimney, her ear pressed against the stone.

“Aunt Anna? Are you okay?”

“I'm dandy,” the older woman said and brushed off her knees as she stood. “You're right about the birds. I can hear them chattering. They do seem happy. Maybe they sense spring in the air.” Anna looked toward the window.