Endless Fear (10 page)

Weak-kneed, she staggered into the sunlight. The brilliant rays spilling through the madrona branches no longer held any warmth. April shivered, gazing impassively at the damage she’d rent. The urge to run had deserted her.

Shouts of dismay and concern eclipsed the rumbling car engine. Startled, she spun in a circle. The whole household seemed headed her way, issuing from various directions.

Spencer reached her first. His face was as white as the old Cadillac. “Are you all right?”

She simply stared at him. Was she all right? Would she ever be again? Did he realize there was a spot of grease on his cheek? Answers eluded her. But questions came rapid fire.

“
April…? Are you okay?” Her father arrived, breathless, looking as much in shock as she felt. The freckles on his face stood dark against his pale skin.

“
Lordy,” March railed. “What kind of craziness is this?” August glared at his sister.

The fury storming her father’s navy eyes penetrated April’s stupor, and stirred her own anger at what she’d been put through. “I’m…fine, Daddy.” The words came out in a croak.

“
How…?” he sputtered, sweeping a hand and arm at the debris. “What…?”

“
The car…motor running…exhaust—“ April’s voice broke on a cough. Her lungs ached. She must have swallowed more fumes than she’d imagined. Another shiver stole over her. She glanced from one face to the other. Which of these people had nearly succeeded in killing her? “All the doors locked…. Couldn’t get out.” She coughed again.

“
August, obviously she’s in shock.” Spencer caught April’s arm.

“
I’m not in shock!” April yanked from his grip, glaring at him, ignoring his sudden hurt expression. “I know…what happened.”

Spencer scowled. “All the same, these questions can wait until later.”

“
Spence is right, August. The girl is as pale as a whitecap. And you are, too. I think we’d best get you both to the house.” Cynthia snaked her arm around April’s waist, her hold brooked no argument. “Come on, sugah, let’s go inside. I want to make certain you don’t have any hidden injuries.”

The bluster left April as quickly as it had arisen. With the will of a zombie, she let herself be led to the house.

Behind her, she heard the car motor sputter and die. The void was immediately filled with speculative murmurs.

* * * *

An hour later Spencer found his stepfather and March conversing quietly in the den.

“
I don’t know why you refuse….” March quit speaking the second she spotted Spencer standing in the doorway. Although her expression gave no hint of tension, her knitting needles clicked like castanets.

August was another matter. Whatever they’d been discussing had obviously distressed him. His color was unnatural, almost as red as the chair in which he sat. Strain etched deep grooves in his forehead, around his mouth and eyes.

Intuitively, Spencer sensed the conversation had had something to do with April. Disquiet clacked inside his head in tune to the speedy needles. “How’s April?”

“
She’s fine,” August answered, seeming to stress the point for his sister’s sake. “Cynthia’s still with her.”

If April was fine, Spencer wondered, why did he sense he’d stirred an already agitated hornet’s nest? He strode to the couch and eased his long frame into the deep cushions to face August. “The tree took a nasty gouge, but I think it will survive,” he reported, bracing his elbows on his thighs and leaning forward. “The Caddy took a few hits, but nothing that can’t be pounded out and painted over.”

“
Insurance’ll cover the repairs. I thank God April wasn’t injured.”

The knitting needles fell silent. “Were any of the garage doors locked?”

“
March,” August growled. “I’m warning you.”

Spencer gazed from one to the other, trying to figure out the problem, vaguely recalling April had mentioned locked doors. A nameless fear seized him. “As far as I know, none of the doors were locked. Hell, the doors dividing each garage can’t be locked. What’s going on?”

But March didn’t bother to answer him. She sat straighter in the chair. “I knew it!”

“
March, you’re trying my patience.”

“
August, the girl tried to kill herself.”

“
What?” Spencer exploded off the couch as though he’d been shot. The two continued to ignore him.

“
Be still March. April did no such thing.”

The elderly woman’s features grew as tight as one of her stitches, and the needles started anew. “You bought that car when she was five-years-old,” she droned softly. “Lily’s limousine. Seeing it again, sitting inside it, bound to bring back memories.”

All color fled August’s face.

Spencer’s heart raced. He felt like an unwilling spectator at a medieval witch hunt. According to March, April was branded and condemned on the face of events. She was wrong! Wasn’t she? The nameless fear no longer hid in the shadows of his wary mind. It stood before him, loathsome. Was April still ill? Could she actually wish herself harm?

“
We can only guess at the devils that haunt her.” The elderly woman rambled on, oblivious to the fury mounting in her brother’s eyes, oblivious to Spencer’s pain.

Frost iced his heart. Reality seemed fragile, beyond his grasp. Reason was called for, but none present could supply it. “Maybe Dr. Merritt—“

“
No!” August shook his head. “This is absurd. April didn’t even know how to start that car.”

“
Humph!” March quit knitting, and shook the needle at her brother. “
July
could start that car with the switch you put in it.”

“
But April knew nothing about the switch,” August argued. “She hadn’t even heard of the damned thing until she came into the boathouse while I was….”

“…
.Installing one in the boat.” March shook her head, pity evident in her widened eyes. “You’re too stubborn to admit the truth when it’s staring you right in the face. She’s unstable, I tell you. Just like her mother.”

“
No! I don’t believe it. And no one is to call Dr. Merritt behind my back. Is that understood?”

Spencer and March exchanged worried glances, but neither argued.

“
I’m going to help Karl clear the wood off the road. Spencer, your assistance would be appreciated.”

* * * *

For the next several days April was leery of everyone. It resolved nothing. She still had no idea who wanted her dead. Or why. The very fact was more than she could comprehend, swamping her with rage and hurt and fear. These people weren’t strangers. They were her family, for God’s sake. Sadly, the only one of them she now trusted completely was July.

April smiled at the child running ahead of her on the cliff path. “Don’t get too near the edge. The ground might be too soft for your weight.”

July glanced back over her shoulder. “I know. It’s warm out here. Can I take my coat off?”

“
Sure. Give it here.” April unzipped her own coat and let it flop open. Sun beat down on her, warm and welcome, exactly, she realized with a sudden shiver, like the day on which someone had tried to kill her.
No. don’t think about it,
she warned herself.
Don’t let the ugliness spoil this time with July.
In the distance she spotted Turtle Rock, their destination. Like a loyal friend it stood in wait for her, ready to lift her burdens, to take on her pain. Her spirits lightened.

April draped the child’s jacket over the basket she carried. It contained a picnic lunch, and the aromas of Helga’s fried chicken and potato salad had her mouth watering all the way from the house. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“
Starving!” July raced ahead and took up position in the center of the humpy-backed boulder, reminding April of herself in a long ago past.

The girl chattered on about school and friends and the engagement party, while gulls squawked overhead as though anticipating the scraps of food that would soon be theirs. Listening with half an ear, April spread a blanket on the ground, comforted by the sanity of seven-year-old logic, sea-washed air, and hungry birds. “Which part of the chicken do you like?”

“
The leg.” July jumped from the rock. “And a pickle, too, please.” Hitting the blanket with her knees, she picked up the plate April had filled for her, but instead of digging in, she gazed at April with round, questioning eyes. “Why did you smash the garage? Did you really try to hurt yourself?”

The question took April aback. Gaping at her young sister, she spoke haltingly, “Where did you get the idea that I wanted to hurt myself?”

“
I heard Aunt March and Momma talking about it this morning.”

Drawing a slow breath, April sank back on her heels and continued putting food on her plate, but her hand was shaking, hard. She released the serving spoon, set her plate aside, rose, and strode to the rock. As her gaze fixed on a seal playing in the tide-tossed swells of Haro Strait, she braced her palms on the boulder’s flat surface. So her aunt and stepmother thought she’d tried to kill herself. That meant the whole household must believe it. The realization made her numb. It seemed her tormentor had won a victory of sorts, after all. She might be alive, but the family was definitely questioning her sanity.

“
April?” July sounded distressed. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”

“
In a minute, sweetheart.” April gave her a reassuring smile, but she doubted the smallest bite would make it by the lump in her throat. She needed to phone Dr. Merritt, perhaps return to Arizona and attempt to trigger her memory some other way. That was the sensible, logical, and safe thing to do. Her fists balled in anger.
And let the
unknown tormentor win?
No way. Others had always controlled her life. If she left Calendar House now, her hope for a sane future was all but lost.

With fierce determination, April forced the worries from her mind. Soon July had her laughing and eating and watching the romping seals from their vantage point on Turtle Rock. The difference in their ages seemed to vanish as the day stretched into a pleasant afternoon.

Contrarily, dinner that night was an exercise in tension. April spent more time staring at her food than tasting it, and immediately after dessert, she sought the comfort of her cozy room. For the first time, its isolated location along the hallway gave her qualms. She lodged the rung-backed chair beneath the knob and sat propped against the pillows long into the night. When sleep came it was like a drug, more powerful that her fears.

Late the next morning she awoke to the sound of rain hitting the window. Grabbing her bathrobe, she went to the kitchen. Only one person occupied the room. Spencer sat at the table, reading a newspaper, sipping coffee from a mug. Her pulse-beat sharpened.

He glanced at her. A quick smile touched his wonderful mouth, but she could see the watchful glint in his dove-gray eyes.
Even Spencer.
The betrayal, although not unexpected, stung to her toes. She headed for the coffee pot and filled a mug.

“
You just get up, sleepyhead?” He teased, failing to keep his tone light.

“
Yep.” She hated the tremor in her voice, hated her suspicion of him and his of her. His chair scraped back. She spun around. He was standing close, too close. Panic squeezed her chest.

“
If you want breakfast,” Spence said softly. “You’ll have to fix your own.”

Aren’t you afraid I might poison myself?
She wanted to shout at him. Instead she managed, “Coffee will do.” To emphasize the point, she drank from her mug.

Spencer detested this unnatural politeness. If only he had the right to hold her, to reassure her. But he’d given up that right twelve years ago.

April gazed beyond him and around the room. “Where is everyone?”

“
Here and there.” He could tell she was jumpy. Was it his doing? Had she remembered? Or was she simply unstable, as March claimed? The puzzle had him fearful, confused, and pitching all sorts of theories. It was possible, sitting in Lily’s car, as March had suggested, might have triggered something shocking enough to account for her smashing the garage door. It could even allow for her anger at him afterward. It didn’t explain her claim of locked doors. “April, what happened the other day in the garage?”

“
Didn’t you get the family version?”

“
I want your version.”

“
Why? You won’t believe it.”