Whisper Falls (20 page)

“I don't understand what you mean.”

“You have realized you cannot bear to be separated from us.”

A bubble of laughter at the absurdity of his claim rolled from my belly to lodge in my throat. I coughed into my hand and strained to resist the smile tugging at my lips. Could he truly be so deluded?

“While there is much to recommend steady employment,” I choked out, “I do expect to leave this household by next spring.”

There was a brief silence, then he came farther into the tiny space and braced his arms on the shelves on either side of the pantry, blocking me in. I sobered instantly.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No, sir.”

I backed up a step. He followed until his neckcloth brushed my sleeve. He was a tall man and strong after years of lifting large bags of milled grain. Leaning closer, his chest trapped me against the wall, his labored breaths disturbing the tendrils escaping my cap.

“In recent weeks, you have developed a most unpleasant insolence.” His voice was soft and venomous. “How do you account for that, Susanna?”

Mark
. I had indeed changed. Our conversations had loosened my restraint, the banter sharpening my mind and tongue. Strange that being a better person made me less desirable as a servant. But I could say none of these things to my master. It would be wisest to play innocent.

“I work as hard as ever.”

“It is not your work I fault. You do not respond to discipline as I had hoped. Indeed, your behavior worsens. Perhaps I shall have to find new ways to teach you a lesson.” He tugged a loose strand of my hair and then trailed the back of his fingers down my neck.

I stood my ground. If he was trying to frighten me, he would see no evidence of it in my demeanor.

He eyed me grimly. “Do not challenge me, Susanna. In any battle between us, we both know who will win.”

Susanna wanted to see Phoebe's marriage license and indenture. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find either on the web.

I didn't want to ride down to the Archives again, but it looked like I'd have to. Another eight-mile bike ride, weaving in and out of state capital traffic, over potholed, torn-up, orange-barreled roads might be great training, though.

It was too late to go down there today; it would have to wait until tomorrow.

All right, enough about Worthville.

The Internet turned out to be useless for young adult fiction. I wanted to buy Susanna another novel, but a simple query brought up thousands to choose from.

I even tried Wikipedia. Eighteenth-century American literature. Not helpful.

“Hi, Mark.”

My mother's voice made me jump. She'd never managed to sneak into the rec room without me noticing before. I glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She wore an oversized T-shirt and carried a beat-up suitcase. A light smile curved her lips, something I hadn't seen in a while. It was nice.

“Hey. What are you doing?”

She set the suitcase down. “Packing up some winter clothes for Marissa. She wants me to send them out there.”

“Marissa contacted you?” Good news. I needed to check in with my sister.

“She texted me, which is close enough. What are you doing?”

“Checking out book titles on the web.”

“Why?”

“Actually, you could help. You were a girl once.”

“Still am, last time I checked.”

I gave her a look over my shoulder. “You know what I mean. A teen girl.”

“That's true. It was one of the many stages I passed through on my way to fifty.” She looked past me to the computer screen, then dragged over a chair and plopped down.

“Okay, then. I need some advice on buying books.”

She laughed. “For teen
girl
literature?”

“It's not for me.” I'd have to explain now. I'd held off telling my folks about Susanna. It had to be obvious I was spending time with someone and equally obvious that I wasn't bringing her by the house. Once I raised the topic, there were bound to be questions which I could never answer. But still, it would be nice to get it out there.

“I want to pick out a book for a friend.”

“Which one?”

“You haven't met her yet.” It was hard to know how to describe our relationship. Friend seemed too little. We had something more special than that, but girlfriend wasn't right, either. And how could I explain why they never saw her? The two-hundred-year separation gave new meaning to the term
long-distance
. “We're just friends.”

“What's her name?”

“Susanna.”

“That's pretty. Where did you meet?”

If I reminded my mother of who was in charge of this conversation, I'd hear one of those boring lectures about who owned the house. “We met on the greenway.”

“How old is she?”

“Seventeen.”

“Where does she go to school?”

“She's done already.” Not stepping on that landmine again. I'd learned my lesson with Marissa.

My mom's mouth opened to ask some more, so I held up my hand and hoped she would stop. She did. “Susanna likes to read and can't afford it. So, I thought I'd buy her a few books.”

My mom had that
on-hold-for-now-but-I-wont-forget
look. “What are Susanna's interests?”

“Colonial history. With themes about injustice.” That last part was my addition.

Mom nodded approvingly. “The
Witch of Blackbird Pond. “

“Go, Mom. You just popped that right out there.” I checked the inventory at Meredith Ridge and put the most ancient copy on hold.

“Flatter me all you want, but we need to find out more about this girl. When are you inviting her over?”

I frowned. So not going there. Time for a diversionary tactic. “Did you come in here for a reason?”

“I did.” She crossed her legs, uncrossed them, stood up again, and walked away a few steps.

It shouldn't have been so easy to divert her. Something about this conversation made her nervous. Very interesting.

“Carla is getting married again.”

That wasn't anything new for Mom's best friend. “Which husband is this? Third?”

“It's her fourth marriage. The wedding is on Mackinac Island.”

That could be cool. “Are you going?”

“Yeah.” Mom stopped pacing and looked at me uneasily. “I want your dad to go with me.”

My mom hated to fly. She had to want to go to this wedding pretty badly to get on an airplane. “He'll go if you ask him. When is it?”

“July thirtieth.”

“Wow, Mom. That's a decent amount of warning this time…”

Wait a minute
.

July thirtieth was the day of my big race.

The day my folks were supposed to be my cheering section at
the most important race of my life
.

“Mom, did you forget the Carolina Challenge?”

“No, I didn't forget. I'm really sorry we have to miss your race.”

I popped out of my chair. “You can't miss it.”

“It's terrible timing, I know, but what else can I do?”

“You can skip Carla's wedding.”

My mother scowled. “Don't take that tone of voice with me, young man.”

“What tone of voice is that? The one reminding you that this race has been on the schedule for months?”

“I have to be there. I'm the matron of honor.”

“Yeah, for the fourth time. The way Carla goes through husbands, there'll be other chances.”

“That's enough, Mark. We aren't missing her wedding.”

I stalked all the way to the door and then stopped to frown at her over my shoulder. “I can't believe you're going to leave me here alone with no one to support me.”

She shook her head. “You're not staying at the house alone. You'll have to sleep somewhere else.”

“What?”

“You're not old enough to stay home by yourself for that long.”

How could this get any worse?

“Where exactly did you have in mind?”

“Watch your mouth, Mark, or you'll find yourself grounded.” Her eyes narrowed into her infamous, pissed-off slits.

Was this my mother's lame attempt at bluffing? Probably. But it wasn't worth the risk. I counted backwards from ten before continuing. “Do you have a suggestion for where I should stay?”

“With Gran and Granddad.”

Could we stop this day and start it over again? “The lake house is too far away. It'll mess with my training schedule.” It would also mess with seeing Susanna.

“Ask Carlton.”

“I hate staying over there.” His mother threw a lot of loud parties, and I needed good sleep—especially the night before a race.

“Then maybe you should plan to go with us to the wedding.”

“Like hell.” I stormed out before I said something even more punishable.

* * *

Dad was the only person alive who could get my mother to change her mind. I would have to get to him and convince him that I was right. It shouldn't be too hard, since I was.

I texted him that I wanted to talk when he got home. But it was late when his Lexus pulled into the garage, and he went straight to bed. Our conversation would have to wait another night.

I finished my Thursday lawns pretty quickly and then headed out early for a short training ride. There wasn't much time left in the afternoon, and I really needed to check on some things for Susanna, so I took my truck downtown to the Archives. Fortunately, the parking gods were on my side for a change. It took hardly any time to run in, collect the data, and get home again.

After dinner, I ran along the greenway, skidded down the rutted trail, and charged across two hundred years. Susanna wasn't waiting for me in the cave, but voices floated down from the bluff. I paused to listen.

No, it was just one voice, and it belonged to Susanna.

I climbed the granite ladder and peered cautiously over the edge. Tall grass and a dusty shelf of rock blocked my view, but now I was sure. She was somewhere nearby, and she was singing. Weird.

Pulling myself onto the top of the bluff, I crawled on my belly to the nearest clump of grass. She was a few feet away, profile to me, hands on hips, singing a hymn or something. At the end, she spun slowly until she faced me. Our eyes locked.

She mouthed, “Mark, wait,” and then strolled down the trail leading to Raleigh.

Moments later, a boy—medium-height, blond, wearing dorky pants and socks that met at the knee—emerged from the trees backing up to the Pratts's property. He hurried along the trail, crouching often, his gaze darting this way and that. Once past me, he broke into a flat run and disappeared around a bend, not far behind Susanna.

Weirder.

“Hello,” she said, looming above me. She looked over her shoulder. “Don't stand.”

“Okay.” I craned to see the woods. Nothing moving there. “What was that all about?”

“I must devise new methods to confuse my spy. His hunting skills improve.” She scowled. “I cannot let him discover my hiding place in the cave. We shall have to stay here tonight, in case Jedidiah returns.” Her smile radiated victory. “Are you comfortable?”

“I'm great. Just wondering how easy it would be to look up your skirt from this angle.”

She laughed. “Indeed? Is this a favorite pastime of a twenty-first century boy?”

“I'm sure it's been the favorite pastime of boys in every century.” I shifted around to half-recline on a flat slab of granite, my body hidden by the grasses. “How was your day?”

The smile disappeared abruptly. Everything about her darkened. “It has been unbearable since I last saw you.”

“Phoebe?”

She bit her lip and nodded.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the copies I'd made this afternoon at the Archives. “I got more information. Maybe we'll come up with something.”

“I have already solved the problem. Phoebe will be safe now. She will never be a servant for the Pratts.” She stared at the creek, arms crossed, chin high.

“What?” I felt a twinge of fear. Anyone who'd ever read a time-travel book knew that we couldn't screw with history. Who knew where the repercussions would end?

Susanna hadn't read about time-travel.

“How did you solve it?”

“I have agreed to stay past my contract in exchange for lessons for Phoebe.”

“Oh my God, are you insane?”

Forget repercussions to history. What about Susanna? I jumped to my feet. My parent's trip was trivial compared to this. That problem would be over in a few days, but this one could last for…I didn't want to guess for how long.

“Why did you do something so stupid?”

She flinched but didn't budge. “I shall do whatever it takes to keep Phoebe from falling under my master's control. If that is stupid, then I am proud to be a fool.”

“I agree with your goal, but there has to be another way.”

“It's the only option. If Phoebe is useful, Mr. Shaw will allow her to stay with our mother. Now, lie down or descend to the cave. I cannot have Jedidiah seeing you if he returns.”

I flung myself back to the ground, banging my head in the process, which pissed me off even more. “How long will you stay past your contract?”

“Perhaps until next spring.”

I suppressed a wild scream. Of all the dumbass things to do. Completely idiotic. Totally…

Damn, I'd run out of synonyms for stupid.

“Do you realize you've made it even easier for Mr. Pratt to see your sister?”

“She will take lessons while he is at the mill.”

“What if he comes home early?”

“His wife will not permit him to enter her parlor while she is spinning. Phoebe is safer in a room with Mrs. Pratt than she would be anywhere in the county.”