Serena's Magic (17 page)

But the panel didn’t give.

A creeping chill of fear raced up Serena’s spine, but she ignored it. She would just go back up to her bedroom.

But the memory of the snap she had heard stayed with her as she groped her way back up. And even as she touched the upper level paneling, she knew it wasn’t going to give.

She sank down to the top step, feeling the darkness seem to sink into her. Don’t panic, Serena, don’t panic.

Be deliberate. Careful. Study the situation.

She turned and began pounding on the boards, until she tired herself into control.

“That,” she mocked her sore hands aloud, “was not calm and deliberate. …”

Because I’m not calm.

I am calm. I am calm. Whispering the words, she tried the paneling again. And again. And again. And then walked down the steps to the first-level panel. And she tried there, again and again.

And then pitched her head back and screamed.

“Help! Oh, please help! Help! Help! Help!” She kept screaming until her voice went hoarse. Surely someone would realize soon that she wasn’t around. They would start looking for her.

She leaned her head against the wood and slid to the floor. Wait, and then start screaming again.

But she wouldn’t be heard. The insulation in the old house was as sturdy as its base. Eleanora must have screamed and screamed and screamed.

“Oh, my God!” Serena wailed. She leapt to her feet again and pounded against the boards and screamed at the same time.

This was it. Right here. This was where John Hawk had locked his adulterous young wife to die. Almost four hundred years ago another woman’s screams had rent the air.

“No!” Serena shrieked, throwing her weight against the panel again. “
Noooo
!!!” Something seemed to snap within her just as surely as the paneling had done.

“I am not Eleanora Hawk, and I am not going to die in this stupid staircase! I am Serena, Serena Loren!”

But a voice seemed to mock her back. You are a Hawk; you were born a Hawk.

He came to me today.

As the darkness crouched around her and her screams died to leave only still, stagnant silence, she buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God.” It felt as if the dark staircase embraced her tighter and tighter, as if the staircase had become a living malevolent force itself.

Eleanora had died here.

And now she was going to die again, perhaps so that her spirit could fly free.

“I’m not going to die,” Serena whimpered aloud. “They will find me.”

But as she sat there, the similarities became all too clear. The darkness preyed upon her mind.

He came to me today. He is built more sturdy than any ship. I went to the pond. … his eyes touch upon me like fire. … I could not deny him. … He has come to the Golden Hawk. …

The words repeated themselves over and over, louder and louder, until she clapped her hands to her ears, certain that she could hear the bitter shrieking laughter of Eleanora Hawk.

Serena slammed her weight against the paneling one more time. “Let me out! Let me out! Let me out! For God’s sake, let me out!” Her screams became whimpers, her whimpers, sobs. And then the staircase was silent as she fell to the floor in a dead faint.

Things had gone badly since he left. The trip to Boston had been to track down papers belonging to Increase and Cotton Mather through a Professor Boswick. Boswick had cordially met him at the Prudential Building, only to shake his head and tell him the references he sought were in New York City, catalogued to a small, government library. He had said his thank-yous and good-byes to the nice old professor and sat debating his next move. He needed the references, but he longed to be with Serena.

Serena had to talk to Marc.

And it was going to be a painful experience; she might be just as happy not to see him that night.

And then, while he had been deliberating between logic and libido, Denise had made an appearance.

He had tried to be polite, but when graciousness failed, he had been brutally honest—deciding then and there that Serena would be having her own problems.

He escaped Denise quickly and called the Golden Hawk and headed back for New York. Through all his work, through the long, long night, he had realized more and more how deeply he loved her. He had known she was beautiful, he had known she compelled and enticed him as no other woman, but last night he had learned that they were irrevocably bound and she had become completely his. His streak of possessiveness was astounding, but it didn’t matter because he was, in turn, possessed.

I love you, Serena, he thought as he lay alone, dreaming. I wonder if you can ever realize how deeply I love you.

In the middle of the night he got up and called his daughter. His ex-wife was less than thrilled with the phone call, but at his insistence, she had awakened their daughter.

“Jenny, I’m going to get married.”

“Are you okay, Dad?” Jenny had asked softly. “I mean, you’re not drunk or anything?”

“I resent that, young lady! No, I am not drunk. I have simply met the most wonderful … witch! I want you to come to the wedding.”

“Dad! You’re serious!”

“Of course I am.”

“When?”

Justin thought for a minute. Then he smiled slowly. He hadn’t exactly discussed any of it with Serena yet. “Next Saturday. Think you can make it?”

Jennifer laughed delightedly. “I can’t believe it, Dad! I didn’t believe anyone would ever snare you again! But of course. I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world. I’ll call the airlines and arrange a flight first thing in the morning. Mom won’t mind. She’s going on some kind of a cruise.”

He gave Jenny the number to the Golden Hawk. “Arrange your flight into Boston. I’ll pick you up there.”

And this morning, he had driven back like the wind. And now he felt wonderful—he would see her.

No one was in the hallway. He was so glad to be back that he smiled a greeting to Eleanora before calling a loud “Hello!”

Martha hurried in from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Dr. O’Neill! How was your trip?”

“Just fine, Martha, thanks. Where’s Serena?” Justin wondered if he sounded as anxious as he felt.

“Oh, she must be out with Marc somewhere. That girl! Wouldn’t eat a thing for breakfast. Just asked him to go for a walk with her. Then the car drives off, and she didn’t say a thing to me.” Martha frowned for a minute. “That’s not like Serena,” she added quietly. “Not like her at all. She’s so responsible about letting me know what she’s doing. But then she did look terribly drawn this morning.”

“How long has she been gone?”

“Oh, not fifteen minutes.”

Justin clenched his teeth against pent-up frustration. Maybe she hadn’t seen Talbot last night—maybe this was the first chance she’d had to talk to him.

Maybe she had decided she wasn’t in love. Maybe she was going to discover that she did care for Marc Talbot, the man she had known so much longer.

No! His nails dug into his callused palms. She was his, she was settling their future, and he was just going to have to wait.

“Won’t you have some breakfast, Dr. O’Neill?”

“No, thanks, Martha.”

He bolted up the stairs and reappeared a few minutes later in tank top, sneakers, and shorts.

If he had to wait, he was going to run. Work off some of the nervous tension gripping him.

Martha met him in the hall again. “I’ll break the time rules and have some nice hot cakes when you get back.” Martha’s statement was really a query. “Maybe Serena will be back by then. It’s not like her …”

“Sounds fine, Martha,” Justin agreed, giving her a smile.

He stretched on the porch, then started running down the path. He kept his pace fast, and he kept running.

Every footstep was a heartbeat. Come back, Serena, I need you, I can’t stand the waiting, I love you. I believe in us. I want to marry you. I believe in … magic.”

H
E RAN SIX MILES,
bathed, and ate Martha’s breakfast, and started getting really nervous. Where the hell was she? How could she be gone so long?

I have to trust her, he thought.

But then it wasn’t a matter of trusting her; it had become a matter of worrying about Marc. He had always seemed a decent enough man, a little self-centered, but apparently with his basic values in the right place.

Justin tried to work, but realized immediately that the effort was ludicrous. He really couldn’t give a damn about Cotton Mather, Ann Putnam, or even poor Giles Corey who had been pressed to death with his refusal to confess himself a witch.

By two thirty in the afternoon he could stand it no more. He pelted down the stairway and found Martha in the kitchen shelling peas.

“Martha, I’m a little worried about Serena. Have you got a phone number for Marc Talbot?”

If Martha thought it curious her guest should be worried about Serena when she was out with a man she had dated for a year, the lady showed no sign.

“There’s a book right in the phone desk there in the hallway, Justin. Look under
T
.”

“Thanks,” Justin murmured, trying to smile lightly as he realized he had now made Martha worried.

He had to dial twice to get the right digits. And then the phone rang and rang.

“Damn!”

He drummed his fingers on the cherrywood for a minute and then flipped through the address book for Susan’s number. But Susan hadn’t seen Serena either, and although Susan assured him that Marc was not in the least homicidal, Justin was aware when he finished the conversation that he had managed to make Susan worry too.

Justin sat at the desk and raked his fingers through his hair. I’m overreacting, he tried to tell himself. She had really only been gone a matter of hours.

He raced upstairs and changed back to a pair of shorts. “I’m going to the pond for a swim, Martha,” he told the housekeeper, wondering why he had made the announcement. He came and went frequently without feeling it necessary to hand out his schedule.

He swam a number of strenuous laps, panted on the shoreline, indulging in a frenzy of push-ups, and then swam again. He stared at the sun, wondering if it had really allowed time to pass when his mind would simply refuse to let it do so.

He grabbed his towel and walked back to the inn.

Martha was waiting for him at the door, her brows furrowed in worry. “Justin, Marc just called—for you. He sounded rather anxious when I told him we both thought Serena was with him. Call him right back, won’t you?”

Justin was on the phone in seconds, heedless that he dripped over the glossy, polished wood floor.

“O’Neill?” Marc inquired.

“Yeah,” Justin replied. His fingers trembled around the receiver. “Where’s Serena?”

“Listen, O’Neill, I called first because I felt I had to explain Serena’s reason for leaving, except that I’m worried sick now myself. She had told me she was going to drive out to Tom’s, but Martha says her car is still there and that she hasn’t seen her since she left with me.”

A pounding began in Justin’s head. “Why was she going to go to her brother’s?”

Marc hesitated over the wire. “She tried to tell me it was because she was upset and simply wanted to see him. But that wasn’t the reason. We, uh, we had an awful argument. And she was upset. So upset that she tripped and fell … and wound up with a scratched cheek and the nice beginnings for a black eye—”

“
What
?”

“She was trying to get rid of me, O’Neill. I guess she had decided you might not have believed what really happened, and she was so upset that I … I did as she asked.”

Justin felt his blood beginning to boil. “She was hurt because you fought with her and then you left her—”

“She was afraid for me, O’Neill,” Marc said bitterly. “And listen, I’m still trying to comprehend the fact that she’s in love with you.” Marc’s voice was quiet. “I’ve been in love with her for a long time, Doctor.”

Justin clenched his jaw and held his temper, sighing. Dear God, did she have that little faith in me? But then maybe she had been right. If he had seen her hurt, after she had been with Marc …

“Don’t you understand? Serena felt she had to make me leave, and then leave herself, because she wanted us all to be able to be friends,” Marc continued. “But I couldn’t leave things at that. I didn’t think you’d understand
her
leaving like that … and, well, I don’t like what’s happened … but she’s in love with you and I can’t change it and; I said such terrible things … I had to call and tell you the truth before you started thinking something much worse because it appeared as if she had just walked out … that wasn’t it. She was afraid you’d kill me.”

Oh, God, Justin thought with a groan, aware that Marc spoke to him with fear and a definite, unexpected integrity.

“Listen, Talbot, I have no desire to kill you. I wish Serena would have had a little faith … none of that is important at the moment. I’m worried about a whole lot more than an argument between the two of you and a possible black eye. Get out here—maybe you can think of something. I’m going to try her brother.”

“Be right there,” Marc replied solemnly.

Justin dug through the book for Thomas Hawk. He was able to reach only a switchboard operator who informed him Mr. Hawk was gone for the day.

Setting the receiver down, Justin saw that Martha hovered nervously behind him in the hallway, wringing her flower-patterned apron with plum-gnarled fingers. He forced himself to smile and softly suggest, “Could you put on a pot of coffee, Martha? I could really use a good cup of coffee. And a sandwich. Would you mind?”

Martha shook her head, her dark eyes wide and nervous, her gray hair looking quite frazzled. “Coffee, yes, Dr. O’Neill, it sounds like a good idea. I’ll get right to it.”

She left the hallway. Justin picked up the phone again and called the police, only to be informed that he couldn’t even file a missing persons report this soon.

“The lady is an adult,” the sheriff said, his voice irritating with official patronization. “If there was some kind of a little lovers’ tiff, well, sir, she probably just wants a little time alone.”

Justin didn’t reply. He set the receiver down so hard that the desk chipped beneath it.