The Gardener of Aria Manor Read online

  Her eyes stared through him and dropped in a numb, sullen daze before meeting with a weak, polite grin. She nodded. Collier nodded respectfully and stepped away, following the Major out of the library.

  Janie watched them go. Throughout the ordeal, the Major had remained noble, his poise dignified and stiff. Even in his eyes, there was no harboring of a revengeful mood. Maybe the soldier in him had hardened his soul against death. He seemed unruffled despite all he had seen and all he had lived through, even to a son’s death he seemed unshakable, disregarding his emotions almost as if by second nature. That disturbed her. Even though most men were taught to hide their emotions, to be strong, it was just such attributes that had always made Janie think that men were full of crap.

  She turned back to the fire. Her gut didn’t settle easily on his indifference. She remembered the first time they met, and he had been definitely unnerved by it. No hiding of emotions there. He had said that she looked like someone from his past, a striking resemblance perhaps, but in the past nonetheless.

  Janie heard someone enter the library and she turned to find Ilene dressed in dry clothes. Her long, reddish brown hair was still damp, however, and she whisked the droplets from the curly ends. Ilene twisted her hair up and pinned it back, then drew closer to the fire.

  “You did a very brave thing. And it was very foolish,” said Ilene.

  “You Brits have a strange way of complimenting a person.”

  Ilene did not respond to Janie’s attempt to lighten the mood. She sucked in a lungful of air to try and stop the flow of tears. “Dammit, Carolyn, you could have been killed!”

  Janie sighed. There had been so many times lately she could have been killed, if Ilene only knew. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.”

  Ilene sat down on the fireplace ledge. “He didn’t want to be saved.”

  Janie was surprised at the comment.

  “I’m not as naïve as you believe me to be, Carolyn. I heard it in his voice more and more as the days went by. He was less and less attentive on our walks. He paid more attention to the sea than to the roses on the arbor. His eyes became distant, isolated. And the brandy bottle ran dry more frequently. Oh, I knew.”

  She eyed the faded threads in the antique rug. “I also knew he was too proud to allow me to see him suffer, as if I were something breakable, like a porcelain doll. I’m sure he thought it a great service to dismiss himself from my life.”

  Ilene sniffed back tears and composed herself. “Strange thing about it, he wasn’t really my Teddy at all. Teddy never came home. Whoever he was, he was never again going to be my little Teddy. Not the brother I knew. I knew it would only be a matter of time before even the image of Teddy would fade away. Like some beautiful painting rich in all its lapis and coral colors for all kingdoms to see. Something that was meant to last thousands of years and carry its hero into the next life on glorious wings of ivory and pearls.” Ilene sighed. “Silly, isn’t it, how something tragic can totally transform a person.”

  Janie was struck by the irony of the comment. “Yeah. Isn’t it?” She pulled herself to her feet, wincing in pain as bruised muscles pulled at broken ribs.

  Ilene jumped up to assist her. “What are you doing?”

  Janie’s hand clamped hold of the mantle to steady herself as dizziness overwhelmed her and blurred her vision. “Obviously not what I thought I could do.”

  Ilene grabbed hold of Janie’s arm and sat her back down in the chair. “I’ll ask Gil—”

  “I don’t need Gil,” Janie growled. “I can do it myself, woman. I just need to rest a moment, that’s all.”

  Ilene raised an eyebrow in irritation. “Has anyone accused you of being mulish?”

  “My father always said I was too independent for my own good.”

  “Close enough.”

  Ilene carefully draped the blanket over Janie’s shoulders and drew it over her breasts and torso with a gentle tug. Her fingers stroked the folds as she raised her eyes to meet Janie’s steady gaze.

  “Your family seems to like persistence.” Janie raised her head to the tapestry above the fireplace. “See there—Vanderholt persistence.”

  “I don’t believe life is meant to be a struggle, especially with the heavens. They have an advantage, they know our weaknesses. They will win every time. I suppose what I was trying to say,” Ilene murmured, “was that, however insensitive it may sound, I wasn’t thinking of Teddy. Not as much as I was worrying for you. I was praying for you, Carolyn. I wanted God to save you most of all. I couldn’t bear to not have you in my life.” After a breath, she added, “I suppose God’s way of punishing me was to grant me my prayer.”

  Before Janie could formulate a response, Ilene pressed her lips against Janie’s, then she drew back. Janie cupped Ilene’s cheek and tenderly pulled her into another kiss. The intensity of the kiss left Janie to pull back tentatively with a tender glance upon Ilene’s glowing features. Her eyes were mirrors to the flickering fire, and skin a delicate peach, radiant with emotion. She touched Ilene’s face and drew her into a passionate embrace. Now, the world could stop turning and Janie would die content and complete, knowing this richness, this delight, is all anyone should ever want.

  JANIE LAY ON her bed in a deep sleep. Beneath closed lids, her eyes fluttered with the voices of Teddy and Carolyn echoing within a black nothingness.

  “You don’t know me,” Teddy shouted. “You know nothing about me!”

  “You don’t need to know me,” Carolyn said.

  “I trusted you!” Teddy said accusingly.

  “I want you to trust me,” Carolyn pleaded.

  “Let me die,” said Teddy.

  “Let me die,” Carolyn added. “Let me go, Janie.”

  “I can’t,” said Janie. “I need to know who you are.”

  “Let me go,” Carolyn repeated.

  “Please...tell me. Who are you, really?”

  “Let me go.”

  Carolyn’s figure appeared, engulfed in flames, then morphed into her father’s bullet-riddled body. “Let me go,” he breathed, then changed into Teddy’s chalky white corpse, reaching out to grab her arm.

  Awakened by her own cry, Janie sat up in bed, then gasped in pain as she clutched her bandaged ribs. Her breathing was rapid and her tank top and pajama pants were soaked in a cold sweat. The voices echoed in her ears. She ran fingers through her hair and climbed out of bed. She limped over to the washstand and stared into the water. The reflection could have been Carolyn’s, with her words still echoing in Janie’s head, “Let me go.”

  Janie plunged both hands into the cool water in the basin, distorting the image and silencing the voice as she splashed water over her face. She dashed a handful over her neck. She turned around, drying her face with a towel as she crossed to the window.

  The worst of the storm had passed. Now and again, she could hear distant rumbling. The clouds billowed and churned, and at last a few stars were visible. The quarter moon hung low in the west. It would be dawn soon.

  Janie turned from the window and pulled the towel from her neck, halting to the pale figure of Carolyn Vaughn. The dead Carolyn Vaughn. The towel dropped at her feet. Whether the spirit was real or a thing imagined, Janie averted her gaze and held her breath. Maybe she was still dreaming. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the figure was still gazing at her. Her heart pounded, her head swam. She had heard many tales of the supernatural, but she had never actually seen a spirit. As the specter drew nearer, Janie turned to stare directly into its eyes. When it spoke, it startled her all the more.

  “Why are you surprised?” the ghost of Carolyn asked. “It was your soul that called to me.”

  Janie couldn’t speak.

  Carolyn smiled at their likeness. “We are connected, you and I. You grieve over my death. Please know I don’t blame you. But until you can forgive yourself, I can’t move on.”

  Janie, regaining some sense about it all, shook her head. “I can’t.”

  Carolyn
crossed her arms and sighed. “Then I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

  Janie spun around and closed her eyes tightly. “You’re not real. I’m hallucinating. Maybe if I just count to five…” Janie glanced over her shoulder. The figure was still floating nearby. “Oh—God.” She turned away and began to count again. “One. Two. Three…”

  Carolyn snickered. “I have to admit, you’re not so bad at being me.”

  Janie paced around the room. “This is insane. I’m insane. I’m imagining you. Way too much stress lately. Teddy’s death pushed me over the edge, I know it. And now I’m sick. You’re supposed to be dead...and now you’re here.” Looking at the ghost, she asked, “How long have you been here?”

  Carolyn grinned. “Long enough to know you’re not too bad as a gardener.” She drifted away, her features showing concern. “Be careful.”

  “Of what?” Janie felt an ache arise from her head. “Oh, geez. What the hell am I doing?”

  “I sense danger for you here. Almost as if...” The apparition faded away.

  Carolyn’s abrupt exit unnerved Janie. “If what? Wait, don’t go.”

  The apparition’s murmured warning lingered in the weight of the silence that now filled the room.

  “Be careful...”

  Chapter Eight

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  JANIE DIDN’T DARE return to sleep that morning. Instead, she dressed and sat at her window, staring out at the colorless waters that had claimed a life the night before. She could still feel the crushing weight of the surf tossing her about, the helplessness as she searched for Teddy. At that moment, Janie felt insecure about her strength. Life in New York had honed her mental prowess to a keen edge. Had she lost her touch? The skies over Aria Manor were of a different hue altogether, where the senses are tasked to question the true past rather than the obvious present. But just who’s past was a question lost to Janie in the quiet parting of sun and cloud.

  Janie gazed at the Star of David, Carolyn’s words quietly echoing in her mind.

  “Let me go...”

  “I can’t,” she said out loud. She closed her eyes and clutched the pendant as tears streaked down her cheeks. “I need answers. Please, God, let her stay with me just a little longer. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t let her go. Not yet. Not now.”

  There was a quiet rap on the door, and Janie cleared her throat and wiped her eyes, then hid the pendant behind her back. “Come in,” she called.

  Ilene entered with Liz close behind carrying a breakfast tray.

  “You might want to eat something,” said Liz to Janie.

  Janie glanced over her shoulder with a faint smile. “Thanks, Liz. Just leave the tray on the bed.”

  Ilene nodded to Liz and waited for the young woman to leave the room before moving beside Janie, quietly sharing the view. After a moment, Ilene asked, “Are you going to be all right?”

  Janie sighed. “Yeah.” She looked at Ilene’s somber profile. “You?”

  Ilene inhaled deeply and lifted her chin with determination. Rubbing a hand over an arm wistfully, she replied, “Yes.”

  Ilene’s eyes were filled with sympathy.

  “You don’t resent the ocean, do you?” Janie asked. “For all that it’s done.”

  “I only wish to believe the ocean mourns as we do. It has no power to stop that which God has created it to do.”

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, Janie was overseeing Gil as he pruned the avenue of lime trees along the drive. He wouldn’t allow her to do anything else. Once in a while she’d attempt to assist by pulling the clipped branches off of the gravel drive. He would flash her an evil eye, promptly putting an end to her extra effort.

  “Let me do something, Gil,” she protested.

  “No,” he said flatly. He picked up a pile of debris and tossed it into a nearby horse-drawn cart. “Doc says you aren’t to lift anything, so you aren’t going to lift anything. Doc says you aren’t to strain yourself, so you aren’t going to strain yourself.”

  Janie made a face and pulled a rake from the cart. “Fine. Is it okay if I rake that one leaf over there?”

  Gil followed her pointing finger, then frowned as he spotted the approaching motorcar.

  The car horn squawked, alerting all of the arrival of the cherry red convertible, its trunk and back seat overloaded with suitcases. “Who’s that?” asked Janie.

  “Oliver Vanderholt and his wife, Angela.”

  When Gil tossed down his pruners and stomped back toward the manor, she was puzzled by his sudden attitude. “Where you going?” He didn’t reply.

  Michael came running past her from the fields, and she shouted to him, “Hey, where you going?”

  “Aren’t you coming?” Michael panted.

  “For what?”

  Michael sheepishly shrugged a shoulder. “Mr. Vanderholt ’as always expected the staff to stand in attendance at ’is arrival. Shows our respect or something.”

  Janie barked a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding?”

  “No! We’d lose our jobs if we didn’t show up.”

  Janie watched as Oliver’s car sped dangerously toward a flock of sheep meandering across the road. The car horn honked several times before the vehicle darted around the startled little creatures as if they were annoying tourists.

  Leaning on her rake, Janie eyed the figures in the red car as it passed, then looked at Michael’s expression. “You don’t really respect him, do you?”

  Michael replied with a resounding “No.”

  Nevertheless, he made a dash for the courtyard and she grumbled as she slowly followed him. “This is so eighteenth century.”

  The annoying oogaa of the horn sounded again, penetrating to the manor’s interior. Liz and Anna scampered out into the courtyard and stood in line next to Bartley, Michael, and Gil. Peanut stood brushing elbows with Bartley, who cocked a disapproving eyebrow at her frumpy, soiled work attire. With a frown, he lifted his hand and fastidiously flicked away some of the dirt that had settled on his black formal jacket.

  As the engine was turned off, Bartley stepped up to the door and opened it, bowing politely to Oliver. “Good morning, Sir.”

  The assembled staff promptly followed in a polite bow as Oliver climbed out of the car. He cast a smug eye across the front lawn. “Is it still morning, Bartley?” he asked. “I thought it was afternoon.”

  Bartley quickly checked his pocket watch. “Forgive me, sir, but it is only 11:45 a.m.”

  “Well, then. You can take our things up to my room.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Quickly.” With an eye to the parting clouds, Oliver added, “I want Michael to clean the sheep dust off the car before it rains.”

  Oliver grabbed Bartley’s sleeve and keenly eyed Janie’s smug grin as she stood on the other side of the car. “Why is she not accounted for?”

  “I’m afraid that is a question you must ask Miss Vaughn, sir.”

  Oliver scowled. “And just who is this Miss Vaughn?”

  “The new Superintendent of Gardens, sir.”

  Oliver released the sleeve and Bartley went on his way, frowning at the wrinkles.

  “Really?” growled Oliver.

  His wife untied a paisley scarf from around her head and primped her blonde hair. “Are you going to stop blathering and get me out of this damn machine, or must I do it myself?” Angela grumbled. “Why is your father keeping sheep, anyway? Such insipid creatures.”

  Janie couldn’t resist assisting a damsel in distress, even though she wore too much makeup, and her blonde hair was no more natural than Janie’s. Janie opened Angela’s door and held out her hand with a smile. “Allow me,” she said.

  “Oh.” Angela was caught off guard. After a moment, she laid a hand atop Janie’s and allowed the woman to assist her from the vehicle.

  “Watch yourself.” Janie nodded at her dress skirting.

  Angela inhaled deeply. “Well,” she said brightly, “you’re ap
parently more of a gentleman than someone else I know.”

  Oliver Vanderholt’s pencil-thin moustache twitched in agitation, and held a smirk that indicated he thought he knew everyone’s thoughts as assuredly as his own. His handsome features delivered a most choleric mood as he beheld Janie with ice blue eyes. Obviously, a family trait, thought Janie.

  “Do you know who I am?” he asked, stepping in front of Janie.

  Janie nodded. “Your reputation precedes you.”

  “Good.” He barely reflected on her double-edged remark. “I demand to know why you aren’t lined up beside the other hired help.”

  “Ah. Well, you see, I am hired help. But, boosting your ego, however small that may be,” she dropped her eyes to his zipper, “is not in my contract. Excuse me.”

  As Janie purposely bumped against his shoulder, he violently grabbed hold of her arm. “Who the hell do you think you are to talk to me that way?”

  Janie’s instincts took over, and she twirled about, grabbed his tie and yanked. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, buster, but nobody touches me. Got it?”

  Oliver stood on his toes to ease the strain, coughed, and struggled to wave her off. When she released him, he wheezed “You have no idea what that does to a man, do you?”

  She bent close and whispered, “Sure I do. How else was I going to get your undivided attention?”

  Oliver pulled himself upright and composed himself as she walked away. “I could fire you,” he shouted after her. “Do you realize that?”

  Janie flashed a smile over her shoulder. “You’re not the one who hired me.” She stepped through the doorway as the Major exited. “Denys, does his birth certificate expire any time soon?”

  “Ah, I see you and Oliver have met.”

  OLIVER SLOWLY ASCENDED the stairway, rubbing his forehead. His temples ached already, and he hadn’t even been at the manor ten minutes. At the top of the stairs, his brow furrowed at his luggage being toted farther down the hallway to his childhood room.