The Girl and The Raven (12 page)

While Brandi is busy with her piano lesson, Ethan and I lie on the thick carpet of the playroom and read. There’s no priceless art in this room. It’s filled with furniture that people actually use. So far this is my favorite room in the house.

While my intention is to read the Hobbit, an all time favorite, I stew over Jude Morgan and our meeting tomorrow night. A shiver passes over my skin as I recall his ink-colored eyes, the shock of his touch, his deep, commanding voice. I steel myself against the fear. Persephone wants me to meet with him, so how dangerous can he be?

My thoughts jump to Marcus and Dylan. They’re both good looking, but Dylan is a total jock and a major jerk. I’m guessing if Dylan had been on the roof with me the night of my birthday, I’d have fallen to my death without him lifting a finger.

“Earth to Lucy.”

I look up from the book I wasn’t reading. “Yes?”

“What do you think of Dylan?” Ethan grins. “Isn’t he awesome?”

If Dylan’s going to keep showing up, I really don’t think I want this job. “If you say so.”

“Dylan’s totally cool.” His voice grows louder. “Girls chase him all the time. They call him and slip him notes at school. I know because he shows them to me. He’s a total chick magnet
and
he’s the star of his football team.”

“He’s lucky to have a brother like you who looks up to him so much.” I’m not going to say anything negative about Dylan to Ethan. “Now let’s get back to reading.”

“He really is awesome,” he grumbles.

“And I think you’d be really awesome if you agree to stop calling girls
chicks
.”

Ethan returns to his book, but not before shooting me a dirty look.

Once Brandi’s lesson is over, we look at the map on the playroom wall, and I show both kids where Tennessee is located.

“I could get snow globes from Kentucky and Tennessee for my collection!” Brandi squeaks.

Ethan is trying to calculate the distance from Lexington to Chicago when Charlene informs us dinner will be served at five o’clock. I remind her I won’t be staying for dinner.

“Hmmm...” She purses her lips, before turning and leaving the room.

“Why does she do that?” I ask.

Brandi and Ethan exchange a look.

“Spill the beans,” I order them.

“You’re not going to like it.” Brandi peeks up at me.

“That’s okay.” I kneel down and take hold of her hands. “I can take it.”

She looks to Ethan, who nods. “There’s a good chance our mom won’t be home by five o’clock.”

“What do you mean? Your dad and I made a deal.”

“Well, our dad is never home, so it was kind of silly of you to listen to him.” Ethan smirks. “And our mom doesn’t pay attention to the time. Between all the volunteer work and the meetings with the ladies at the club, she loses track.”

“Does that happen a lot?” I ask tightly.

Ethan nods. “All the time. Gita used to get real upset about it, but she needed the job.”

Mr. Douglas lied to my uncles and me. Or maybe he has no idea how Mrs. Douglas spends her days. I’ll have to call Sheldon and let him know I’ll probably be late. I thrust my hair behind my ear in frustration. I wanted to visit Marcus and find out why he’s avoiding me. It probably has something to do with the fireball that nearly singed all his hair off, but I still wanted to check in with him.

“Let’s just see what happens.” It’s only three o’clock. She may still get home on time. I force myself to calm down. “How about something fun? What do you want to do?”

“Let’s play tag!” Ethan says.

Images of artwork being knocked off walls and little statues crashing to the floor flash through my mind. “No!”

“Can we watch a movie?” Brandi asks.

“Does that sound good to you, Ethan?”

Soon Ethan and Brandi are engrossed in Hotel Transylvania, and I’m free to relax a little. Four and a half hours, dinner, dessert, a bath for Brandi and a shower for Ethan and trauma over princess pajamas that apparently hadn’t been washed yet and another movie later, Mrs. Douglas rolls in the door while Ethan, Brandi and I are just finishing a jigsaw puzzle.

“Hi Mom!” Brandi and Ethan say in unison.

“Hello children. It’s wonderful to see you after such a long day.” She exhales dramatically as she receives their hugs stiffly. “I hope you had a good day with Lucy.”

“We had a great day!” Brandi smiles. “I can’t wait for her to come back tomorrow!”

“Yeah, me too,” Ethan agrees, which I take to mean he forgives me for picking on Dylan.

“I’m glad to hear it. Please go brush your teeth. I’ll come and see you in the playroom shortly.”

The kids both hug me before running off.

Mrs. Douglas turns to me, a plastic smile in place. “Thank you, Lucy. It’s obvious you made a great impression on them.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Douglas.” I return her plastic smile. “I really like Brandi and Ethan. They’re great kids. However, I won’t be able to continue working for you and Mr. Douglas.”

Her mouth falls open and then snaps shut. “Excuse me?” The smile is gone.

My heart pounds in my chest. “The arrangement was that I would be paid three hundred dollars for working from nine to five, Monday through Friday, and that I would be home by five-thirty.” The corners of her mouth turn down and I force myself to continue. “I came early today because it’s my first day, but now it’s seven forty-five. I’m very sorry, but this isn’t the deal.”

Mrs. Douglas’ face goes white as a sheet. I can tell she isn’t used to being confronted by the help. While I’ll miss Brandi and Ethan and I don’t want to lose the pay, I’m not going to work for someone who thinks they can take advantage of me. And I don’t want to deal with Dylan, either.

“You’re right, Lucy, and I…apologize,” she stutters and reaches for my hand. “May I ask you to reconsider? Are you firm on your nine to five work day, or are you willing to renegotiate?”

I stare at her hand clutching mine, baffled. “What do you have in mind?”

Thirty minutes later, I’m back in the fancy Town Car, a huge smile on my face as Arnold drives me home. Not only did Mrs. Douglas pay me a hundred dollars on the spot for “all the trouble,” but she offered to pay me four hundred dollars a week if I’d work nine to seven each day. My uncles aren’t going to be happy about it, but it’s a chance to sock a lot of money away for a car.

As Arnold pulls away, I trudge up the sidewalk. A figure emerges from the shadows. Only one thought comes to mind. Demon. I shriek and lunge at his head with my purse. Marcus ducks, easily dodging my attack.

“Holy crap, you scared me!” My hand is pressed against my heart as I try to catch my breath. “It’s not cool to creep up on me, not when there’s someone…you know.”

He eyeballs my purse nervously as if it might lash out at him again. “You’re getting home pretty late.” He glances at the departing car.

A crazy grin takes over my face. “Yeah, it’s a long story.”

As we face each other, I recall the feel of his naked chest and a strange fluttering lets loose inside of me. I try to focus. “I started a nanny job today and it ran late. It turned out okay in the end, because I negotiated a nice pay increase for the longer hours they want me to work.”

“Good for you,” he says, although based on his frown and grumpy tone, he doesn’t seem all that pleased for me.

He’s holding one arm behind his back. I crane my neck a little to see what he’s hiding. His frown stops me.

“Where’ve you been?” I fidget with the strap on my purse. I guess he’s still mad about the fireball. “I was hoping we could continue our rooftop conversa—.”

“Don’t you get it?” He hisses. “I’ve been waiting for hours. You’re in danger. You could’ve died the other night. And… you don’t think to call or text me that you’re going to be late?”

My entire body bristles. My jaw clenches. “You’ve been avoiding me for days. Days! And now you’re mad over a few hours?” I meet his stony gaze. Marcus looks away.

I recall the night he saved me. The safety I felt within his embrace.

“What’s going on?” I reach for his arm, but he shrugs me off. “Are we friends? Because I kind of got the impression we were.”

Marcus glances at the ground, that stupid frown still in place. The hand appears from behind his back and he thrusts a small, wrapped gift at me. “Here, I wanted to give you this. A belated birthday present.”

I take it from him, stunned. But before I can thank him, he turns and stalks off. I watch him disappear around the back. I smile in spite of my attempts not to. I clutch my present to my chest and walk inside as realization swells inside of me.
Marcus likes me.

Traffic blurs outside the Town Car window while Marcus’ music mix plays through my ear buds. I glance at Arnold in the front seat. He appears lost in his own thoughts. I pull the cd insert from my purse, running my fingers down the playlist. I re-read Marcus tight, angular writing along the bottom.
These songs
have a lot of heart, soul and grit. Bravery, even. They’re a lot like you.

I lean back and close my eyes as Shawn Colvin’s voice fills my ears. I smile recalling my surprise last night during my first listen when I realized Ms. Colvin wasn’t a man.

* * * *

Arriving home after my second day at the Douglas residence, I tell my uncles I’m going upstairs to visit Marcus. I hate to lie, but I don’t know how to explain Jude Morgan to them just yet.

I am mid-knock when Aiden opens the door, his greeting frosty. I’m surprised anyone believes the story of Marcus and Aiden being brothers. Aiden, with his blonde hair and blue eyes, looks nothing like Marcus. Remembering Jude’s slicked back hair, I find it creepy that Aiden’s is styled the same way. Like he’s some kind of wanna-be.

“Hi Aiden.” I swallow hard. “I think you know why I’m here.”

“Come in.” His expression is unreadable.

Aiden closes the door behind me and throws the deadbolt. I jump as the loud
clunk
echoes, my heart thumping in my chest. Is he trying to scare me? Aiden crosses the room without a word and disappears down the hallway. What little daylight is left gleams through the windows, highlighting the stark white walls with nothing hung on them. The windows are bare. There aren’t any photographs or knick-knacks, just a couple of books on the coffee table and a stack of cds and records piled by the stereo. Who listens to vinyl anymore?

“Lucy.”

I spin around at the sound of his voice. Jude’s standing behind me. I must have walked right by him. I shake my head. That’s not possible. I know no one was in the room after Aiden left.

A grin takes over his face as he spreads his arms wide. It’s a strange greeting—like Moses parting the red sea or a game show host hamming it up for his audience.

“Hello Mr. Morgan.”

“Please, call me Jude.” He sounds energized and his eyes are bright.

When I agreed to meet with Jude, I dismissed my uneasiness, blaming it on the fact that Jude surprised me at the airport. But now my spider senses are sounding the alarm. I take a step backward and look around cursing the fact that Jude is between me and the only exit. I wonder if Aiden would hear me if I called out. Actually, I wonder if he would come if I called out.

“You wanted to…to talk to me.”

“You have nothing to fear from me, Lucy. I’m not going to hurt you.” He approaches, the huge smile still on his face, and extends his hand. I flinch, then cross my arms over my chest.

“You ran into me on purpose at the airport,” I accuse. His eyes unnerve me, so instead I focus on his dark gray suit, white dress shirt and red patterned tie.

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation. I chance meeting his gaze and his ink-black eyes pull me in. My gut tells me to turn and leave, but I don’t. The sound of a thousand flies buzzing fills my head and my vision blurs. I shake my head and it clears.

“W…why?”

“I knew your grandmother. Your mother, too. I needed to see you.” His voice is smooth, pleasant. His eyes never leave my face. “I know a lot about you, Lucy.”

The pit of my stomach freezes fast while my legs turn to jelly. Am I imagining things or is Jude standing closer to me than he was seconds ago?

“I don’t understand.” The room starts to blur. I blink, trying to clear my vision.

“You’re a beautiful young lady.” He reaches out to touch my hair, pauses, then drops his hand. “Your accent adds to your appeal. Has anyone ever told you that? Where have you been living?”

The two questions run together smoothly and without pause, I answer him. “Lexington, Tennessee.”

His eyes turn cold and hard and his nostrils flare. I take a step backward. I need to get out of here.

But almost immediately, his face relaxes into an easy smile.

“I know you had the chicken pox when you were six years old. That you’re afraid of spiders. You fell seriously ill at the age of nine because your mother fed you rancid meat.” He presses his lips together, arching one eyebrow. “I know how much you loved your grandmother.”