Pip wasn’t dead. He was fast asleep in a small, rarely used storeroom, snuggled in amongst ratty cloth bags stuffed with old discarded uniforms and ancient boots. Oddly, the room, rather than damp and cold like most of the castle, was warm, the air sweet. It was lemons, Miranda realized. She smelled lemons. But there were no lemon trees, so how could that be? She shook her head; it wasn’t important now. She put her finger over her lips to keep P.C. quiet and slowly knelt beside Pip, lightly laid her fingertips to the pulse in his neck. His pulse was strong and regular. Miranda lightly kissed his forehead as her fingertips feathered over his face. “It’s time to wake up, Pip.”
He didn’t move, but Miranda wasn’t frightened; she simply waited, still holding P.C.’s small hand, P.C.’s breath on her neck.
Pip slowly opened his eyes, smiled up at her, and whispered, his small voice slurred, “Mama?”
“No, darling, it’s me, Miranda. Did you dream of your mama?”
Pip’s lashes fluttered and he sighed. He turned his face into Miranda’s palm, his breath warm against her skin. “I couldn’t see her face, but I thought she was my mama. She sang to me as pretty as you do. I don’t think Mama could sing very well. She left me. You won’t, will you, Miranda?”
“No, sweetheart, I’ll never leave you.” Amazing how Pip’s words brought clarity. Miranda saw her future clearly now, and she smiled, her heart and mind settled. No, she would never leave this precious little boy, just as she’d never leave his father. She wanted her future with both of them. She hoped Grayson wanted the same thing. Miranda felt P.C. crowding closer, nearly vibrating.
Pip yawned and smiled. “Hello, P.C., why are you here?”
She squeezed P.C.’s hand to keep her quiet. Miranda said calmly, “We were looking for you, Pip. Do you remember you were with P.C. and Brady examining the cannons, pretending to fire them on an attacking enemy? I was standing nearby next to George and Lise Marie.”Keep calm, keep calm, don’t frighten him. Miranda swallowed. “Suddenly you were gone, Pip, just gone. We couldn’t find you. None of the soldiers could find you. Why did you come here?”
But Pip didn’t answer. He looked confused.
P.C. fell to her knees beside her mother. “Pip, I told Captain MacFarlane Brady wanted to lift you onto one of the cannons and we were laughing and I worried we’d get our clothes dirty but then a nice young soldier came and we asked him to lift you but you weren’t there.”
“Where’s Papa?”
P.C. said, “Mr. Straithmore will be here soon, Pip.”
A laugh nearly bubbled out of Miranda’s mouth. “She means your papa, Pip.”
“We don’t need Mr. Sherbrooke, Mama, we need Mr. Straithmore.”
“I think we need both,” Miranda said slowly. She studied Pip’s face and felt a wave of gratitude to whomever or whatever had prompted her to come directly to this small room. Had some spirit suddenly whisked Pip away? That sounded ridiculous, but Miranda’s heart pounded because she couldn’t explain any of it.
How she wished Grayson would walk through the door right this minute. He’d know what to say, what to think. He’d know what to do. The last thing she wanted was to scare Pip. Suddenly, she smelled lemons even more intensely. She said carefully, feeling her way, “Pip, do you remember now why you left P.C. and Brady by the cannons?”
Pip’s small face puckered in a frown. “I remember I wanted to sit on the cannon, and P.C. was talking about dirty clothes, and then I was someplace else, a really rich place.” He gave Miranda and P.C. a blazing smile. “It was wonderful. A lady with red hair was there, and she smiled at me and then she sang to me. I didn’t understand what she was singing, but her voice was so pretty. She touched my hair and my face and kissed my cheek. She whispered she saw wonderful things for me in the future, and then I went to sleep.” He sat up and stretched, looked around the small room with its stacks of bags nearly to the low stone ceiling, and shivered. “Miranda, this isn’t where I was.”
Miranda said carefully, “Do you know where you were, Pip, when the pretty red-haired lady was singing to you?”
CHAPTER TEN
Pip said, “I remember a big fireplace and fancy furniture and those pretty thick cloth things covering the walls.”
He’d seen tapestries?
“There were wooden walls and paintings and a pretty bed. I–I think I was lying in that bed. And then she was there, and her hand was so soft and her breath smelled like lemons. She was very pretty, and her eyes, they weren’t blue like mine and Papa’s, they were sort of yellow or gold. Where’s Papa?”
Amber, her eyes had been amber. “Maybe he’s here now,” Miranda said. “Let’s go find him.” She helped Pip stand up. He looked once again around the ancient storeroom. She asked him no more questions. Grayson would know how to deal with it.
When Grayson, panting for breath, saw Miranda walking into the warm sunlight, one hand holding Pip’s, the other P.C.’s, dozens of soldiers surrounding them, all of them talking, gesticulating, he nearly expired from relief.
“Papa!”
Pip ran to Grayson, jumped up as high as he could. Grayson caught him and pulled Pip tightly against him. He rocked Pip, pressed his face against his head. His heart still pounded deep, hard strokes, but finally he accepted Pip was safe and the awful fear began to slowly lessen. He closed his eyes and thanked God. He whispered against Pip’s small ear, “I’m here, Pip. Can you tell me what happened?”
Pip leaned back in Grayson’s arms. “I didn’t run away, Papa, I promise. I knew you’d smack my bottom if I left P.C. and Brady.” His son looked bewildered. “I told Miranda about the red-haired lady singing to me, and it was so pretty.”
Grayson felt a gentle humming in his head as Pip told him about how the red-haired lady smelled like lemons and her voice was so soft and sweet. He told Grayson about the rich room—the tapestries, Miranda called them—and how warm and soft the bed was, how he felt so happy.
“Then Miranda woke me up. We were in a room filled with old bags.”
When Pip fell silent, Grayson said slowly, “A red-haired lady, Pip? Singing to you?”
