“Wonder why,” I muttered as Walker headed over to pull them apart. I shook my head at him, and he stopped. The boys hadn’t fought or played this way for months. It was a relief to see them act like this. While I shouldn’t condone their beating the crap out of each other, I was too relieved to complain.
“Mom?”
“Let them fight it out.” I mumbled, “If they get too rough, then we’ll stop them,” to Walker as I walked away towards a snow-covered bench. I brushed the snow off and sat down.
“Dad is watching,” Walker said.
“I know. It’s okay. He’s trying, Walker, he’s getting help,” I murmured.
Walker sent me a surprised look. “He’s doing what?”
“Adam contacted Janet, you know, the therapist.”
“The one that everyone sees. Dad’s talking to her?” Walker sounded stunned.
“Yes. He told me upstairs.”
“You didn’t know?”
“Nope, needless to say, I was a bit shocked.” My gaze roamed the area, and my fingers twitched. Wow. I actually felt the urge to paint. I hadn’t painted since the war. My time and effort had been concentrated on Adam. James had provided me with a studio, and I went there, but I hadn’t been able to paint for ages.
Now, the urge welled inside me, and a new idea was forming. Walker got up as Xander jumped on Callum’s back to press him deeper into the snow. I could visualise the series of paintings in my mind’s eye and bit my lip. Imaging the designs and techniques, I got lost until I was startled from my thoughts.
“Here,” Adam said, and handed me a sketchbook and my box of pencils. I didn’t reply, already entranced in what I needed to get down. I began sketching as Adam planted a kiss on my head. That single action caused me to pause, and Adam smiled at me before limping off to grab Callum as he rammed snow into Xander’s face. He grabbed the warring boys and hauled them over to a snow drift, where he promptly dropped them both.
“Behave! Your mother is working!” Adam stated and slowly and painfully limped back inside.
Walker stared after him, shocked. It was the first time Adam had actively interacted with the children in months. The snow snagged my attention. It was falling again, and I began sketching in earnest. This was my addiction, and I sank into it in bliss.
Adam
“She’s healing,” a woman’s voice stated.
I turned quickly, too quickly, and my leg began giving way. I caught myself on a chair and managed to sit down before collapsing onto the floor.
“What the hell?” I exclaimed as I saw a faint outline of a woman disappear.
“Are you okay?” Benedict asked me. He was hauling in a load of firewood.
“Yes. Damn, this might make me sound insane, but is this place haunted?”
“What are you seeing?”
“The woman from that portrait,” I replied, feeling foolish. The hot water bottles had gone cold and were wriggling around, so I unclipped them. I hoped Benedict didn’t think I was doing anything weird, although by the expression on his face, he did. Enlightenment dawned when I pulled the first water bottle out of my sweatpants.
“You’re talking about Lady Catherine?”
“Yes, without sounding crazy, I swear I’ve seen her.”
“You probably have. She has haunted this inn since her death a thousand years ago. This was her legacy to us.”
“Your family has owned this that long?” I gasped in surprise.
“Yes, well over a thousand years. Although in Tudor times this underwent a massive reconstruction. But that dining room andthis part of the inn are original,” Benedict said as he dumped the wood near the fire with Lady Catherine’s portrait.
“She spoke to me,” I admitted. I was waiting for Benedict to look at me like I was crazy.
“Cat is sentient. By the way, please don’t call her Cat, only I can. Address her as Lady Catherine, as is her right and due. She is legendary amongst my family,” Benedict said as he headed for the bar next. He poured two shots of whiskey, came over, and placed one in front of me.
