Red Lily Page 47
“But you’re not happy. What happened? Why are you here, and so unhappy?”
“I made life.” She whirled, cupping a hand over her belly. “You know the power of that. Life grew in me, came from me. And he took it. My son.” She looked around, those eyes darting. “My son. I came for my son.”
“He’s gone now, too.” Roz rose slowly. “Long ago. My grandfather. He was a good man.”
“A baby. My baby. Little boy, sweet, small. Mine. Men, men are liars, thieves, cheats. I should have killed him.”
“The child?”
Those eyes glittered, bright and hard as the diamonds on her wrist. “The father. I should have found a way to kill him, all of them. Burned the house to the ground around them, and sent us all to hell.”
There was a chill, and the pity Roz had once felt couldn’t chip through the ice of it. “What did you do?”
“I came, I came in the night. Quiet as a mouse.” She tapped a finger to her lips, then began to laugh. “Gone.” She turned a circle, holding her arm high so the rubies and diamonds flashed. “All gone, everything gone. Nothing left for me.” Her head cocked, her gaze turned to the monitor, and Lily’s waking cries.
“The baby. The baby’s crying.”
Her head lolled as she slid to the floor.
“Mitch! David!” Roz rushed across the room to drop down beside Hayley.
“Got a little dizzy,” Hayley murmured, passing a hand over her face. Then she looked around, groped for Roz’s hand. “What? What?”
“It’s all right. Just stay down a minute. David.” Roz glanced over her shoulder when both men hurried into the room. “Get us some water and the brandy.”
“What happened?” Mitch demanded.
“She had a spell, an episode.”
“Lily. Lily’s crying.”
“I’ll get her.” Mitch, touched Hayley’s shoulder. “I’ll go get her.”
“I remember. I think. Sort of. My head hurts.”
“All right, sweetie. Let’s get you onto the couch.”
“Little queasy,” Hayley managed when Roz helped her to her feet. “I didn’t feel it coming, Roz. Then it was . . . it was stronger that time. It was more.”
David brought both water and brandy, and sitting on Hayley’s other side, put a glass of water in her hand. “Here now, baby doll, sip some water.”
“Thanks. I’m okay, feeling better. Just a little shaky.”
“You’re not the only one,” Roz said.
“You talked to her.”
“We had quite the conversation.”
“You asked her questions. I don’t know how you held it together like that.”
“Have a little brandy,” Roz suggested, but Hayley wrinkled her nose.
“I don’t like it. I feel better, honest.”
“Then I’ll have your share.” Roz picked up the snifter and took a healthy swallow as Mitch came in with Lily.
“She’ll want her juice. She likes a little juice when she gets up from a nap.”
“I’ll get her some,” Mitch told Hayley.
“No, I’ll take her in. I’d like to do something normal for a few minutes.” She got to her feet, reaching for Lily as Lily reached for her. “There’s my baby girl. We’ll be right back.”
Roz got to her feet when Hayley left the room. “I’m going to call Harper. He’ll want to know about this.”
“I’d like to know about this myself,” Mitch reminded her.
“You’ll want your notebook and tape recorder.”
“WE WERE JUST sitting there talking. I was telling Roz what a wonderful time I’d had last night, and showing her the bracelet. And—sorry Harper—but I was telling her I felt guilty about you buying it for me. And I guess I got emotional.” She sent a pleading look at Roz, clearly begging confidence. “And then she was just there. Like a bang. I’m a little bit vague on it. It was like hearing a conversation—like when you hold a glass to a wall to hear what people are saying in the next room. All sort of tinny and echoing.”
“She was amused, in my opinion, in a nasty sort of way,” Roz began, and took them through it.
“She was accustomed to receiving gifts for sex.” Mitch scribbled in his notebook. “So that’s how she’d equate the bracelet Hayley’s wearing. She wouldn’t understand,” he continued, hearing the quiet sound of distress she made, “generosity, or the pleasure of giving for the sake of the gift. When something was given to her, it was an exchange. Never a token of affection.”
Hayley nodded and continued to sit on the floor with Lily.
“She came here,” he continued. “By her own words she came here at night. She wanted to cause harm to Reginald, perhaps the entire household. Maybe even planned to. But she didn’t. We could assume harm came to her here. She said she was here, always.”
“Died here.” Hayley nodded. “Remains here. Yes. It felt like that. Like I could almost, almost, see what was in her head while it was happening. And that’s what it felt like. She died here, and she stays here. And she thinks of the child she had as a baby still. She’s the way she was then, and in her mind—I think—so is her son.”
“So she relates to, is drawn to, children,” Harper finished. “Once they grow up, they’re no real substitute for hers. Especially if they happen to grow up into men.”
“She came to help me when I needed it,” Roz pointed out. “She recognizes the blood connection. Acknowledges it, at least when it suits her. Hayley’s heightened emotions brought her out. But then she answered questions, she spoke intelligently.”
“So I’m a kind of conduit.” Hayley fought back another shudder. “But why me?”
“Maybe because you’re a young mother,” Mitch suggested. “Close to the age she was when she died, raising a child—something that was denied her. She made life. It was stolen from her. When life is stolen, what’s left?”
“Death,” Hayley said with a shudder. She stayed where she was when Lily ran over to Harper and lifted her arms to be held. “She’s getting stronger, that’s how it felt. She likes having a body around her, having her say. She’d like more. She’d like . . .”