all things considered.”
“Shea could come back. You should stay here.”
“My duty is to protect you.”
“That’s not what I meant.” It was what he’d meant, but Dylis wouldn’t agree to looking after Lydia. She would, however, agree to staying and continuing her search for the Window.
“Hmm. You have a point. But I think it’s best I go to Court.”
She was right. She needed to get the Counter-Window.
They waited in silence for the cab. When it arrived he got in and took a last look at Callaway House, knowing he’d be back tonight, but not knowing what to expect.
After sending Caspian on his way and getting dressed, Lydia rang work and said she was sick. She wasn’t scared of being alone; in fact, having the space was what she needed.
Caspian was part fairy. While he and his fairy godmother had been with her she thought she’d done a pretty good job of keeping calm; in truth, part of her wished that she never learned the truth. The other part of her wanted the facts and wanted to know who she was getting involved with. Did knowing this about Caspian change the way she felt about him? That was the question she was hoping to find the answer to.
She’d seen the disappointment on his face when she’d asked him to leave even though he’d masked it quickly. She’d almost changed her mind. But she couldn’t work through everything that was in her mind if he was looking over her shoulder. No, a little space would do her good… but already she was looking forward to seeing him tonight.
With all the mirrors gone, she walked around the house to assess the damage. It wasn’t good. The Callaway House gardens were ruined. Not that they’d been anything special lately, but with a bit of attention they would have been okay. Now it was like a mini cyclone had swept through and upended everything. The only things untouched were the three cabins at the edge of the block and the oaks.
A shiver scraped down her spine. She’d slept through it all… or maybe she’d been awake reading in the parlor? If she’d looked what would she have seen? Not the Greys, as Caspian and Dylis called them. She would have seen floating mirrors and plants and pavers. She drew in a deep breath. Even the ghost of Callaway House wasn’t a ghost, but a Grey.
She shook her head understanding why Caspian hadn’t wanted to tell her and yet at the same time being miffed that he wanted to keep secrets. She didn’t like secrets. She liked answers and the truth. A mockingbird singing in the tree above her made her jump. Now every noise made her twitchy. Maybe she should have gone to work.
Yeah, but the garden wasn’t going to clean itself and she couldn’t afford to pay someone. So instead of sitting in the house, she started putting the garden back together. Once she got started, the damage seemed to be mostly cosmetic. As she put the plants back into the dirt and placed the weeds in a pile, it didn’t look so bad. Given some time it would look the way it once had—only with fewer weeds. She gathered up another handful of flowers, something that had been budding, and shoved them back in the ground, hoping that they’d re-root. Replacing all of the plants with new ones would cost too much.
The grass and the pavers were a disaster she was trying to avoid. There was too much to do. Her vision blurred and she blinked back tears. She didn’t need this, and yet she didn’t have a choice. What would Gran do? Just get on with it, one bit at a time the way she always had.
Her cell phone rang in her pocket. She took off her gloves and checked the number. She didn’t recognize it so she ignored it. She’d already fended off the press who wanted a statement about the upcoming memorial. Now that she’d stopped she realized how thirsty and hungry she was. Her arms and back ached from the unaccustomed exercise.
In the shade she gulped down some water from her drink bottle and looked at what had once been the front garden. If she stacked the pavers up, she could eventually get someone to relay them. The grass should recover if she relaid the ripped up pieces, stomped on the raised bits, and filled in the holes. In six months’ time she and Caspian would look back and laugh.
That made her pause. Despite everything she was still picturing him in her life. Maybe it was true—like the garden in six months’ time, it wouldn’t matter that he was half-fairy and saw things she never would. What mattered was that he was a good guy who’d done his best to protect her despite the situation. He’d made a deal with a Grey.
She bit her lip and looked at the yard. At least she hoped they’d get the chance to sit back and laugh. From what Dylis had told her the risks were more than what he’d let on. Protecting her or hiding the truth? At this stage she rather know what was going on, but then she couldn’t go back to not knowing anyway. She huffed out a breath. It was getting warm and her clothes were sticking. She glanced up at the sun and decided it was time for lunch and a little more reading. At least any salvageable plants were back in the ground.
She left the mess and went inside, washed her hands, and made a cheese sandwich from fridge and freezer leftovers. If she and Caspian were going to be staying here, she needed to buy some more food. Gran seemed to exist on apples, bread, cheese, and wine. She sat at the kitchen table and picked up the diary she’d been reading last night. It was fascinating. A little piece of history and heartbreak, but she wanted to know what happened to Pearl, the young woman who’d accidentally gotten pregnant and found herself suddenly abandoned. But she’d followed Caspian back to bed before she could find out if it was a boy or a girl.
Each page gave her a greater understanding of the life Gran had lived. The baby was a girl, but the birth didn’t go well. After two days Pearl had died and the man had refused to acknowledge the child. Lydia brushed at a tear that traced down her cheek. When Gran held the baby she saw the daughter she’d lost to whooping cough at just two months old. It was Gran who’d named the baby, Helen.
Lydia felt her heart stop for a moment. She re-read the page to be sure.
Helen Callaway.
“Oh my God.” Gran wasn’t her grandmother. Her grandmother was Pearl, a young and pretty party girl who’d been cast off once she became pregnant and had stayed at Callaway House because she had nowhere else to go. She didn’t even know Pearl’s last name. She didn’t even know if Pearl was her real name.
Her breathing hitched in her chest and she let the book fall closed as if she could lock the secret back up. There was a reason diaries shouldn’t be read. How different would her life have been if Pearl hadn’t died and Gran hadn’t claimed the baby and raised her? Helen hadn’t been a late life surprise for Gran. Gran had lied. Why would she do that?
Her whole life was a lie.
Her eyes burned afresh as she lost her grandmother for the second time. She wished she’d never opened the stupid trunk and started reading.
Her phone rang again. Caspian. She couldn’t talk to him now. She didn’t know what to say. She cradled her head in her hands. Everything she knew was unraveling; soon she’d be left with nothing.
The phone rang out and went to voice mail. “This is Lydia. Leave a message.”
“It’s Caspian. I wanted to see how you are doing.” He paused—what was he saying? Of course she wasn’t going to be all right. Fairies had come in and shaken her life up. He’d shaken her life up and put her in danger. Was that why she wasn’t answering?
He was tempted to drive out there now and make sure, but he made himself take a breath. He couldn’t give away that she knew, not with an imp creeping around his shop, listening to every word. “If you need me to come around early and help let me know.” He hung up. Would she get back to him?
When he’d left this morning she’d seemed fine, but daylight had a way of altering perceptions. He looked at the phone in his hands. For the moment he’d done everything he could, but he was waiting. Waiting for Lydia to realize it was all too much. Waiting for Dylis to get the Counter-Window. Waiting for the Court summons. Every time someone entered his shop he expected to see the Hunter of Annwyn ready to take him across the veil. It made thinking about work difficult. If these were his last few days he didn’t want to be spending them with an imp in his shop. He wanted to be with Lydia, but she’d made it clear she wanted to be alone.
He didn’t blame her. If the situation had been reversed he’d have wanted space from the person talking about fairies and magic mirrors too. Last night he’d been hopeful when he’d seen the trunks and the boxes in the stable, but now, after he and Dylis had failed to find the Window, he was becoming more certain it was no longer
