Chapter 26

TWENTY-SIX

I didn't get over to the house the next day, but I was able to push some things around on my schedule to do it the day after. It was a cooler day, and there was a nice breeze coming off the water as I parked in the driveway.

The grass and driveway were eaten up with all the work trucks that were coming in and out. Today, there was a cement mixer with a long arm pour directed into the basement. It had been an old coal cellar and still had a dirt floor.

Not exactly up to code at the moment, that was for sure.

A lot had been done since I'd been at the site last. I'd mostly been keeping myself busy with the boring side of a renovation. Scheduling, chasing down supplies when needed, getting things ordered for the rooms as they were finalized. Shelby had evened out with her pregnancy, but she tired easily.

Which meant I was picking up some of the slack. I was tired as hell myself, but the long days kept me from overthinking things about Nolan.

I missed him almost as much as I missed my cat.

Annoying as hell.

I climbed the front porch steps, happy to see they were among the finished projects. It was a grand stone entrance with an ornate arched covering. The columns were obviously hand-carved, showing off Archer's artistry in a mix of floral accents with the sharper gothic flavor that had drawn me to the house in the first place.

"Hey, Dahl!"

I turned at the familiar voice of Lucky Roberts. "Hey, big guy. How are you?"

"Good, good. We're moving things along, as you see. This Archer guy is a ball buster, but damn if he doesn't do nice work."

"Stunning."

"He's in the back with grumpy. They're doing something on the beach."

"Something?"

He shrugged. "Whatever they're doing, they're out of my hair. I don't care."

I laughed. "Are they giving you grief?"

"No. Well, yes, but not to an annoying level. We've got it handled." He tugged his hair out of his usual bun and retied it up. "At least today isn't as hot as balls. I gotta get back to the pouring though."

"Everything okay in the basement?"

"Yep. One thing that doesn't need a complete overhaul. Hallelujah."

I laughed. "Okay, I'll leave you to it." I walked around the side of the house. Another two Dumpsters were set up beside the house, full of old sheetrock and crumbling ceiling medallions.

"Damn." I'd hoped some of those could be salvaged. But it seemed like there was a mold element to it from what I could see. I backed away from it and wrinkled my nose.

No thanks on mold.

I started down the incline to the beach where Nolan and Archer were set up. My heart skipped as I spotted Gizmo bouncing around between them. I was about to rush forward when I noticed the neon-green harness around his chest and the extra-long lead.

Gizmo was playing tag between them for a treat, then he made a run for the waterline only to leap back before he could get his paws wet. Quickly, he returned to the dry beach.

My heart melted at the two grown men playing with the cat as if he was a dog. Gizmo loved it. He kept darting after a red and white ball that the two guys kicked between one another.

I shielded my eyes against the sun as I slowly made my way down to them.

Gizmo spotted me and zoomed my way, only to be jerked to a halt when his lead ended.

"Oh, baby." I rushed forward and scooped him up. "Interesting operation you have down here."

Nolan retrieved the ball and set it in the pen he'd set up beside their work area. "He likes it out here. I wasn't sure about the harness, but he loves it."

I peered down at Gizmo and brushed sand out of his whiskers. "You having fun?"

He wiggled for freedom. Guess that was enough lovings for his mama. I let him down and he scampered back down to Archer on the beach. I waved to him.

"Looks like lots of work is getting done around here."

"Yeah, we're getting there."

"That front porch is gorgeous."

"Thanks. Archer really is pulling out all the stops." He turned to the workstation they'd set up with sandbags and a host of chisels and grinders. "I'm helping him with the stones that don't need his expertise." Nolan grabbed a rag to brush off the sand and stone dust. "We were just taking a break."

"Think we could look around inside?"

"Yeah." He waved at Archer. "I'll be back. Keep an eye on the demon."

Archer waved back with the long-handled cat toy with a feather at the end. "We'll be fine, Dad."

Gizmo arched up to chase the feather and did a ridiculous back flip. I laughed. "I don't even know what to say."

"I used some natural stuff on him, so he doesn't get any sand fleas. He loves it out here."

"So I see."

Nolan raked his fingers through his hair, pushing the bandana off he was wearing. He shook his hair out and let it fall around his face. His beard had come in fuller, and he'd trimmed it, so it made his face look more angular and hid some of his scar.

I wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that he was always trying to distract from his scars. I resisted the urge to push his hair back.

"Ready?"

I nodded.

We made small talk about the things that were done inside, and I lost my breath at the front foyer. The vaulted ceiling had been revealed with gorgeous stone and wooden arches. A massive fan had been installed to push around the air a bit. The house was massive, and it would be killer for heating and cooling.

Especially with the summer we were already having.

"The HVAC guys are coming to give me an estimate. Pretty sure I'll be shifting more money around for that."

"You know you don't need to do everything right away."

"No, I want it done. And done right." He dipped his hands into his pockets. He was wearing canvas pants today with a T-shirt that looked like it had been through the war. Stone dust left chalky trails over his chest and along his thighs.

I wasn't sure the last time I'd seen him so relaxed and on edge at the same time. "You're really enjoying this."

He nodded. "I'm pretty sure Archer is only letting me help because he loves the house as much as I do. He usually likes to work alone."

"Or maybe he knows you need it?"

He looked down. "Maybe."

I turned to the stairs that led to the second landing.

"I know you want up there."

I glanced back at him over my shoulder. "I really do."

He shook his head. "All right. Let's go."

I couldn't help but to clap happily. I'd been dying to get back to that room. If nothing else, I wanted more of those journals. And hopefully, I wanted to get Harriette to make herself known again.

I rushed up the stairs and he followed me at a much slower pace. Once I got to the bookcase, I noticed it had been protected with plastic against all the sheetrock dust and workers. Slowly, I peeled back the tape to find the acorn lever and the hinge released.

I slipped through the doorway and into the tunnel. It still had a musty smell, but it was more like old wood this time instead of a couple decades of dust.

A light came from behind me. "You're not going to be able to get in."

"I just want to try."

He sighed. "All right. Go on." He kept close to me as we headed down the tunnel.

I turned at the bend, shifting away from the tower room and continued down the dim passageway to the secret room. The air chilled a bit, or maybe it was my own overactive imagination. I felt around for the lever to open the doorway.

Nothing happened.

"See? No one has been able to get in. I can't even get the inspector in there. He checked out the tunnel and said it was safe, at the very least."

I pressed my hand to the wood. It was cooler. I was sure of it. "Can I come in, Harriette? I just want to see your room. Maybe you'll let me have another journal?"

Nolan stood right behind me. "Hellcat, it won't?—"

The door shifted, and my heart raced. "C'mon, c'mon." I reached for the lever again and this time, the door opened. "Thank you!" I pushed my way through and before Nolan could follow me, it slammed shut.

"Hellcat!" He pounded on the doorway. "Hey!"

I turned around. "Nolan?" I felt around for the latch on this side, but it wouldn't budge. "Shoot."

"Are you okay?" he shouted through the bookcase.

"I'm fine. It's fine in here. Quiet." I looked around. All the books that had been tossed around before were back on their shelves. The light streamed through the stained glass and a clear beam shone right on the leather couch. "I'm just going to look around for a minute."

"Dammit, Dahlia."

"It's fine. I'm not in any danger."

I crept down the stairs to the chair. I smoothed my hand over the back. It was as warm as if someone has been sitting in it. "Harriette? I read the diary you left me. I'm so sorry you were so sad for so long."

A breeze came up and made the skirt of my dress flutter around my knees. The chair moved a little closer to the bookcase.

"Do you want me to sit?"

The breeze came up again.

"I'll take that as a yes." I sat down and the series of journals was exactly at my eyeline. "Did you want to show me something?"

I felt something cold on my shoulder, then a book moved forward. Not a journal this time, but another leather-bound book. I pulled it out and looked at the cover. "Maternity and Motherhood," I read aloud. The book opened on my lap and pages started fluttering. "What are you trying to tell me?"

Suddenly, the book flattened open. Early signs of pregnancy.

My stomach dropped. It was a very old book, but the initial signs of pregnancy had been the same for a zillion years. Fatigue, increased trips to the water room, indigestion, breast tenderness.

"What are you trying to tell me? I know you had many pregnancies that failed."

The book flew to the floor and another book slid forward. This time, one of her journals. I pulled it forward and it opened to a page.

"I knew the signs," I read aloud, "I was so afraid to let myself feel the joy. So very afraid it would be snatched away from me, but I knew. I just knew there was a babe in my womb."

My eyes misted.

"Hellcat!"

I ignored him as I kept reading. The early pregnancy signs again.

Automatically, I started counting in my head.

Wait.

No.

No, absolutely not.

I patted my pocket for my phone and pulled it out. With shaking fingers, I checked my period tracker app. "Seven weeks..."

The breeze fluttered my hair and another few pages turned until I read her echoing sentiment of disbelief.

"Oh my God," I whispered.