The Lost Hours (37 page)

There’s been no more talk of Freddie returning to England to complete his education and I now know why. And without my father’s income from his medical practice
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I cannot pay Justine as much, but she insists that she does not want to leave my employ despite the fact that this means she can no longer afford Josie’s voice lessons. I feel strongly that Josie needs to continue. Unfortunately, this means I will have to sell my beloved horse, Lola Grace, whom I have been stabling at Asphodel. I won’t be able to get a high price for her, but I cannot afford to feed and stable her, and I have little time to ride anymore. I will miss that the most I think.

 

The sound of tires crunching on gravel brought my head up, and I spotted Tucker’s Jeep outside. Peering out the window, I saw Tucker in the driver’s seat with Helen riding shotgun. I jumped out of my chair and opened the door just as Tucker was reaching up to knock. We stood still, facing each other, neither one of us stepping back.

His hair was wet, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower, but his eyes were bloodshot and there was the faint scent of alcohol on him. “Rough night,Tucker?”

He rubbed his hand over a clean-shaven jaw. “I’ve had rougher.” He dropped his hand and we remained staring at each other.

“Have you come to ask me to leave?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest so he couldn’t see them shake as I waited for his answer.

He looked as if he wasn’t really sure of the answer. “No, I’m not.”

“Why?” I wanted to take back the words. I’d never known how to stop when I was ahead. It had always created a nice point spread between me and the number-two spot, but it just didn’t seem to translate as well in social interactions.

“Because you saved Sara’s life.”

I hadn’t expected that answer and I struggled not to drop my gaze.

He closed his eyes for a moment and I saw his exhaustion and the lines of grief around his mouth, which seemed to have lessened since I’d first come to Asphodel. “Because I feel as if we’re all stuck in the same place—me, Sara, and Lucy—but that—how did you put it?—the world seems to be snapping outside our walls.” His smile was sad. “Malily doesn’t believe in regret. Maybe if I find out what happened to Susan, I’ll discover that maybe I don’t really have anything to regret.”

I wanted to touch his face, but I kept my hands tightly wrapped around my arms. “So you’re not still angry with me?”

“No, I’m still pretty furious. But I have to get over that because Lucy and Sara would never forgive me if I was the reason you went away.” Shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, he indicated the Jeep. “I’d like to see the hidden room. And the rest of it. I might be able to help.”

“I’m assuming Helen’s on board with this?”

“Yeah. She suggested it, actually. Helped me see that this could be what I need right now. What we all need.” His eyes met mine. “If that’s all right with you.”

I nodded, and managed a small smile. “That’s fine. I could use the help.”

“Great.” He motioned toward the Jeep again. “Come on, Helen hates to be kept waiting.”

“So, does this mean we have a truce?”

He held the door open for me, his brow furrowed. “For now. Just don’t lie to me again, okay?”

I nodded. “Hang on a second—I have to get something for Helen.” I ran back to the table and picked up the pages I’d just read.

As we began walking toward the car, he said softly, “I was home by midnight, by the way. You can ask Emily, who let Lucy wait up for me. I was there to tuck Lucy into bed.”

I just nodded, but felt an inexplicable warmth flood my face. I ducked my head as I climbed into the backseat of the Jeep and greeted Helen. After waiting for Tucker to climb in behind the wheel, I handed Helen the pages. “Are you and Lillian all caught up?”

“Yes. She was tired last night, but she insisted that we read all of your grandmother’s pages. I shared them with Tucker, too. She did ask if there were any more; she doesn’t remember reading past what we already have, so this will be a nice surprise for her.”

“There’s some interesting stuff in the pages I just gave you, and I think I have a good place to start my research.”

“Like what?” Tucker shifted the Jeep into first gear and we sped down the gravel road toward Asphodel’s front gates.

“Well, I’ve been wondering how Freddy paid for his education in England and how Josie paid for her singing lessons. They’re the children of a housekeeper, and no matter how important the housekeeper was to the O’Hares, I can’t imagine they could afford to pay her that much money.”

“So who did?” Helen tilted her face up toward the open roof of the Jeep.

“I don’t know—yet. I was hoping that we might be able to find their birth certificates in the archives. Finding out who their father was might answer a lot of those questions.”

I sat back against the seat, my thoughts dancing with the rush of air coming through the open windows. I wasn’t sure what I’d find, but I wasn’t afraid so much of the unknown now. Maybe I was just beginning to realize that discovering the past couldn’t change it, nor could the knowledge erase the hours between as if they’d never happened at all.

Helen kept her face tilted upward, feeling the warmth of the sun as they headed down the old Augusta Highway toward Savannah. She loved the feel of her silk skirt brushing against the bare skin of her legs, and the way her hair whipped around her face. She remembered how when she was a little girl her mother had always braided her long, wavy hair so it would be easier to manage, but as soon as her mother would leave, the braids would come undone. Helen was still convinced that there was nothing as lovely on earth as the feel of your hair blowing about your face.

She listened as the sounds of the highway softened to those of the intimate city of Savannah, with its manicured squares of flowering hedges and native trees filled with mockingbirds, and Forsyth Park’s gardens bursting with fragrant blooms that Malily refused to admit she’d borrowed the idea of her scent garden from, insisting it had been the other way around.

Piper sat forward in the backseat so that her head was close to the front so she could talk. Helen half listened to Tucker and Piper’s conversation, noticing how it was less strained, and wondering if they’d finally noticed that by staring into a mirror, they saw the other.

“Take a left here on Bull Street, and the first square is Monterey,” Piper said. “Go around to the other side of the square to East Taylor. My house is the first one on the right.”

“I just need the address. I used to live here, remember?” Tucker’s voice lacked the sharpness Helen had grown used to, and she wondered if it was because of Piper or because his guilt had finally reached its expiration date.

The car stopped and Tucker shut off the engine. After a moment, he began to describe it for her. “It’s a three-story Savannah gray brick, with iron stair railings and a white columned portico with an iron balcony above it under one of the second-story windows.”He paused. “And there’s a large side yard that looks like it might have once been a garden.”

“What’s in it now?” Helen asked.

“Nothing but weeds and dirt,” Piper answered slowly from the backseat. “It used to be as beautiful as Lillian’s.”

Helen turned her face toward Piper. “Malily gave me a few rose clippings from her garden to give to you and I have them with me. She said she’d always meant to give them to your grandmother but never had the chance. Maybe you’ll have time today to plant them.”

Piper’s voice sounded unsure. “If I even remember how. I can have George water them while I’m gone.”

“George?” Tucker asked as he exited the Jeep and then helped Piper out of the backseat. Helen listened as he came around to her side and opened her door. “Who’s he?”

Piper didn’t answer right away. “George Baker. He’s . . . an old friend. He’s related to Mr. Morton, my grandfather’s lawyer, and he’s been sort of taking care of things while I’ve been gone. He’s even been helping with some of the research.”

Helen held on to Tucker’s arm as he led her to the sidewalk, feeling him tense. “Just a friend?” he asked, his voice sounding forced and making Helen smile.

“Earlene!”

Helen turned in the direction of the male voice as Tucker stopped walking.

“George,” said Piper, “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

Footsteps approached on the sidewalk. “You asked me to hire a cleaning crew to deep clean the house while you were gone. I’m sure you didn’t want me to give them a house key, so I’m just here to unlock the house for them.”

There was a short pause, during which Helen felt Piper’s uncertainty although Helen wasn’t sure why. She liked the man’s voice. The accent was old Savannah and as deep and warm as the pond water in the middle of summer. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Again Piper paused. “I’m sorry. I guess you just surprised me. This is Dr. Tucker Gibbons and his sister, Helen.”

She felt Tucker shake George’s hand and then she held out her own. George’s skin felt smooth, the fingers long, his grip firm. She smiled brightly at him. “It’s a pleasure,” she said. His grip lingered a little longer than it should have before he dropped it. She was used to that when people realized that she was blind.

“They know who I am, George. I told them.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He turned to Tucker and Helen. “I tried to tell her it wasn’t a good idea, but trying to tell Earlene Mills not to do something is a lot like trying to tell grass not to grow.”

“You call her Earlene?” Helen asked.

“Yes, he does. And I find it annoying but I can’t get him to stop,” Piper interjected.

“It’s her name, and I think it suits her better than Piper. Piper’s not even her middle name.”

“I wondered about that,” said Helen. “How did you get Piper from Earlene?”

They began moving forward and Tucker indicated that they were in front of the steps and needed to climb. She was surprised to feel George on her other side taking her elbow.

“I didn’t,” said Piper from ahead of them, jangling keys. “My grandfather started calling me that when he realized I had potential in equestrian eventing. He thought it was a champion-worthy name.”

Tucker’s arm tensed under Helen’s hand. “To go with the empty living room wall, I suppose.”

George stopped and Helen realized they’d reached the top of the steps. She listened as Piper stuck the key in the lock, opened the door, and stepped inside. Her footsteps clicked across wood floors.

George sounded surprised. “She told you about that?”

There was a short pause before Tucker answered. “Yeah. She did. Her grandfather was a real piece of work.”

“He loved her, though. In the only way he knew how. My grandfather was a good friend to both of her grandparents. He said Jackson Mercer was a tough guy to get to know, but his one soft spot was for his granddaughter.”

“Are y’all going to stand outside all day or do you think you want to come in?” Piper’s voice carried from inside the house.

The three of them wouldn’t fit through the door at the same time and Helen was amused that George resisted relinquishing his grip, making Tucker step back. George escorted her across the threshold, careful to watch her footing, then led her into the house.

“Miss Gibbons, your green dress matches the shade of your eyes exactly, and I have a feeling that’s no accident. I had an aunt who lost her sight when she was only in her forties. She’d been a very attractive woman, too, who liked to dress, and she saw no reason to quit just because she could no longer see. And she taught me a very important lesson.”

“And what was that, Mr. Baker?” Helen asked, enjoying the sound of his voice.

“That a blind woman sees a lot more than you think. And that my aunt knew just where to swing her purse when I accidentally swore in her presence. The woman never missed.”

Helen laughed, remembering something Malily had read from her scrapbook, something about dancing with Charlie and how it made her feel breathless, as if she’d found a little bit of extraordinary. She wondered if she was feeling a little of that now.

“Please call me Helen.”

“Only if you call me George.”

Tucker touched her arm. “Sorry to interrupt, but Piper’s showing us up to the attic. The stairs are steep, so hang on to my arm.”

She allowed Tucker to lead her up the stairs, wishing George would say something again so she could listen to his voice. The house smelled old and musty, the scents of oil soap and dust saturating the air. The stairs creaked like an old woman, and Helen wanted to ask Piper to open up all the windows to let out the sad, stale air. Tucker described everything to her as they passed rooms down a narrow hallway, but he didn’t need to. She could picture the antique furniture, the polished hardwood floors, the outdated upholstery and flowery curtains. It made sense to her that Piper had only ever considered this house to be a place to sleep; her life had occurred far beyond these walls.