Twenty-eight

A fter pattering downstairs the next morning, Anna got her hot coffee and eagerly went to greet Wyatt on the back patio. He sat staring into the yard. Her stomach fluttered.

"Good morning."

"Did you sleep okay?"

"What's wrong, Wyatt?"

He was so serious. Too serious. Her skin was itching.

"I don't want you to go to this meeting. But if he is as sick as they all say, you'll always wonder if you should've tried one last time."

She sipped her coffee, the scent and taste grounding her just as firmly as the sunlit paving stones were warming her bare feet. "I'm now suddenly starting to wonder if there will be any value to it at all." She didn't mean it.

One side of his mouth quirked to prove he knew that. He hoisted his no-longer-steaming coffee mug from the side table and saluted her with it. "I'll go with you if you choose to go."

"If Martha is no longer at the house, I'm not even sure how we'd get in."

"I wondered about that too. I'll call her and see if she's there or if she has any ideas. Let me get some fresh coffee. Then we can enjoy the morning before we begin."

Anna nodded.

Shortly later, he put the call through and tapped it onto speaker for Anna.

"Why are you calling, Wyatt?"

Apparently, Martha wasn't in the mood for chitchat.

"Martha, are we still on for this morning?"

Martha didn't speak. Perhaps mulling something over. "He was eager to see her, but he changes with the wind. I can go back to the house and get you in. I owe her, I guess. Although I'm not sure she'll consider this a favor once it's over."

Wyatt stepped closer to Anna's chair, resting a hand on her shoulder. "She wants to do this." He squeezed her shoulder. "Seems I can't talk her out of it."

"Okay. I need to wrap some things up anyway. I told Atticus I was going to retire. I'm not sure he believed me. He's probably agitated and complaining that I'm not there. I'll call once I feel everything is calm—or rather, not complete chaos." A huff came through. "I'm not staying or anything, you understand? I'm just letting you in. I have no way to predict what happens next. But, yes, this might be their last chance to speak."

"I'll let her know." Wyatt's hand continued to warm Anna's shoulder. "Thank you, Martha."

"Don't thank me. Just make sure she realizes what this could look like. There's no way this ends well."

"She's heard. I have the phone on speaker."

The phone call ended. His hand remained.

"She's right, Anna. It could be rough."

"We know that." She pushed to her feet, dislodging his hand, not sure whether she wanted to or not. "But this might be our last chance."

Inside, they made a simple breakfast and started a list of questions before Wyatt's phone rang. He frowned. "It's her."

"Already?"

He held up a finger, then swiped to answer.

"I'm at the house." Martha spoke immediately. "He's awake. That's the best I can give you. Wyatt, he's bitter, and his end is near. He has nothing to lose, and he knows it."

"We'll be over in about fifteen minutes."

"I warned you." She hung up.

Wyatt arched a brow, and Anna nodded, smoothing her hands down her gray pants.

There'd been no time for a dress rehearsal, but she knew what she wanted to ask. She grabbed her purse. They barely spoke on the drive. She kept wiping her shaky hands on her pants. She shivered almost as if she could sense the darkness about to befall her now. I am strong. I am strong .

The crackling of the tires over the pavestone driveway created a sense of foreboding. When Wyatt opened the door for her, Anna grabbed his hand and squeezed it just to feel something kind and good. He wrapped his arm around her, pulled her toward him, and whispered into her ear, followed by a kiss. They hurried up the walk to the gloomy house before Martha changed her mind—or before they did.

Martha approached them, cutting their distance to her in half. "Someone wants to meet with you before you see Atticus. She's here getting some of her belongings. She wants to tell you something—something about your mother and her visit."

"Bessie?"

With a nod, Martha walked them into the house and down the hallway to the Ruby Dining Room. Apparently, the room was still named after Sabina's beloved horse. Or maybe the horse was named after the room. Focus, Anna.

There was something about Bessie as she approached, a sense of angry determination. "Anna, I knew your mother. We were around the same age. I wasn't close to her, but I knew her, felt sorry for her if that's okay to say." Bessie reached as if to touch Anna's arm, then lowered limp fingers to her side. "I was here when your mother came to visit Atticus. She found some kind of letter in an old book. She worked up the courage to come back to the devil, I guess."

Letter? Anna's head jerked up. Wyatt moved closer as if to shield her.

"Atticus was furious." Bessie stepped closer, gripping both of Anna's hands this time. "She asked if he had anything to do with your grandfather's death."

Anna wobbled. Her fingers tightened around Bessie's.

"He denied it. Told her she was after his money and wasn't getting a dime. She wasn't anything to him—not his blood. That didn't make any sense. Of course, she was his blood. And she should've received some inheritance." Bessie's gaze softened. Her grip did as well. Then one hand lifted to touch Anna's cheek. "But she wasn't here for that. She was like you. She was here for answers. Then she asked about your father, Niklaus."

Anna gasped, prying free as she jerked back a step. "Why would she ask him about my father?"

"That connection, Atticus didn't deny so quickly. I don't know what he did to your father, but he had something to do with his disappearance."

"Disappearance?" Anna wobbled. Someone helped her into a chair. A black cloud seemed to drift through her thoughts. The room, the voices, all blurred behind its swirling darkness. "Wait. What were you saying? I didn't hear. My father disappeared?"

Somehow, a cup of something cold appeared in her hand. Then someone was guiding her to take a sip. She gulped once or twice, the room coming back into focus. Water splashed and dribbled as she slammed the cup onto the nearby side table and spun to face Bessie.

The sturdy woman frowned at her, perhaps thinking Anna wasn't as strong as she'd assessed. She eyed Wyatt, then at his nod, continued. "Your mother and Niklaus, Nick I called him, were in love. They met in town. He worked with her at the general store. They were inseparable, but they were young—very young. He made her happy. They got married—secretly."

"Secretly?" Anna asked.

"Yes, I don't know why. Maybe they didn't want anyone in their business because they were young. I can't say. After that, she was able to stay on the property. Adult by marriage, rumor had it as their secret got out. I knew Nick in school, nice guy. But after he married your mother, he changed a bit. He flashed cash here and there. Where would he get cash? Your mother always seemed to be looking over her shoulders, like she was afraid of a ghost or something. Then he disappeared after you were born." She snapped her fingers. "Poof, gone."

"Did anyone report it?" That was attorney-mode Wyatt.

"Of course. There was a search. People say it reminded them of when Sabina went missing. I think that's why your mother stayed here so long. Somehow, she hoped he'd come back to her. While she lived here, I don't think she ever gave up hope."

Bessie fell silent. No one breached the quiet.

"Anyway," Bessie spoke at last, "when your mother accused Atticus that day she visited, he only said that if someone disappeared so easily, they weren't worth much. Your mother wouldn't listen to him and his vile accusations. She had a strength that only comes from knowing who she was and being right with her Maker."

Martha mumbled something. Something like "Atticus won't tolerate people who don't break."

"I'll never forget how her strength and resolve made me feel." Bessie patted Anna's shoulder. Then with a wave of her hand, she started toward the doorway. "You should be proud. I should've followed her out the door. It would've changed everything for me. Instead, I welcomed the darkness by staying here. That's all I know."

Wyatt cleared his throat.

But it was Anna's place to speak. So she shook her head at him, swallowed down the lump clogging her throat, and hurried to the woman's side. "It's more than I knew before I came. Thank you, Bessie." She hugged her. "No matter what's occurred, I'm sorry for your loss."

It was time to meet the vessel of wrath and destruction.