Mr. Allen’s blue eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know Mrs. Hansson?”
“Because she raised me! She was my grandmother.”
“Your grandmother? Then, that means— Come closer.”
Setting his pipe against the horse figurine on the end table, Mr. Allen motioned for Oliver to stand before him. He glanced at Felipe for help, but he nudged him toward the innkeeper. As Oliver knelt before his chair, Mr. Allen held the monocle to his damaged eye and studied his features. Oliver tried not to squirm under the man’s intent stare. He wasn’t certain Mr. Allen would find much of anything that resembled his nana in his features, but he let him look. Mr. Allen’s gaze slid over Oliver’s hair and moved to his eyes and down his nose before coming to rest on his hands. Oliver resisted the urge to tuck them out of sight when Mr. Allen hesitantly reached for them. He eyed the lattice of veins on the back of his hands and the shape of his fingers before letting them go. Mr. Allen shook his head and blinked as tears crept to the corners of his eyes. Oliver nearly apologized out of habit when hepatted his cheek and smiled.
“You’re Joanna’s boy. When I heard you came out of the woods, I was afraid Edmund or Francis had had a child out of wedlock, but no, you’re Joanna’s. Did you know you were born here?”
Oliver nodded. “That’s why I came.”
“It’s been, what, thirty-seven years since I carried you all the way from Aldorhaven to Philadelphia to take you to your grandmother. The last time I saw you, you weren’t even a year old yet. Now, look at you. You’re a grown man. I can’t believe it never occurred to me that it was you. I knew your name was Oliver, but that’s not an uncommon name. You probably don’t remember me, but I lived with you and your grandmother for a year until I got on my feet and joined the Union Army.”
“And you left your trunk in our attic.”
Mr. Allen nodded. “Why is your last name Barlow? I assumed you would have taken your grandmother’s last name, but I didn’t think to ask. It’s not as if anyone calls a baby by its full name.”
“Technically, I did. Barlow was my nana’s maiden name,” Oliver said quietly.
“Of course, she gave you a different last name. We didn’t know if anyone in Aldorhaven knew Joanna’s maiden name was Hansson.” Staring into Oliver’s features once more, Mr. Allen lingered on his eyes. “You look so much like your parents. I didn’t see it before because I wasn’t looking. Now, I can’t not see it. For years, I wondered what you would look like, which of your parents you took after. It’s both.”
“I wouldn’t know.” A flare of bitterness rose in Oliver’s throat that this man had known his parents, both of them, when he couldn’t. Pulling out of Mr. Allen’s grasp, Oliver staggered back on shaking legs. “I don’t know anything about either of my parents. My nana never spoke of them.”
“That was to protect you. That’s all any of us wanted, to keep you safe, and now, that’s all gone out the window. You were never supposed to come to Aldorhaven. That was the whole point of the plan, for you to go somewhere safe and never look back. It’s why Inever tried to reach out to find you after the War Between the States; I wanted to give you a clean break and to not say something that might lead you back here.” Letting the eyeglass drop into his pocket, Mr. Allen sat back and rubbed his brow with a grimace. “Joanna told me to leave Aldorhaven behind and never come back. I should have listened. I came back and tried to fix things, and now, you’re here. I’ve undone everything she and Stephen sacrificed themselves for.”
When he let out something that sounded like a groan or the prelude to tears, Oliver froze. “You didn’t do anything to bring me here. I’ve known about Aldorhaven for years. I found the letter my mother left for my grandmother, the one she was supposed to throw out. I could have come here eighteen years ago.”
“But you didn’t. You came because I wrote to the Paranormal Society for help. If I hadn’t come back here, I doubt anyone would have written to them, and if the woods hadn’t taken the first investigators and scared off the second, you all wouldn’t be here. Maybe Joanna was wrong, and you really can’t fight fate.”
“Ichoseto take this case,” Oliver snapped. His face heated and his chest tightened with frustration. He hadchosento go to Aldorhaven. He didn’t believe in destiny or fate, and him coming there against Felipe’s wishes and his own sense was hischoice, not some cosmic game to spite his parents or Mr. Allen. When Felipe’s hand closed around his shoulder, the righteous fire dimmed a fraction. He would not be a pawn. “Whether you wrote or not, Mr. Allen, I would have eventually come here looking for answers.”
“Either way, you all should leave Aldorhaven as soon as possible. You shouldn’t have come back here, Dr. Barlow; it isn’t safe for you. Once whoever pushed you into the woods realizes you survived, everything Joanna and Stephen did will be for nought. Eventually,theywill figure out who you are.”
Who am I?Oliver’s pulse pounded in his ears, spurring his spiraling thoughts. And who were Mr. Allen and his grandmother trying to keep him safe from for all these years?If he hadn’t been overwrought before, he was now. Suddenly, his body was tight with unspent tension,and he didn’t know where to put his hands or how to stand when all he wanted was to curl in a ball and be invisible. All he wanted was to be Oliver Barlow the necromancer and medical examiner and nothing more. He shouldn’t have come. He should have minded his business about the horse blanket. And about his parents. And about Aldorhaven. And about— A soft, furry head nudged against his hand, and Oliver looked down to find Argos pressing his body against his legs. The moment Oliver knelt to pet him the dog bullied his way onto Oliver’s lap. Argos stared up at him with large, soulful eyes as he rested his wide head on Oliver’s chest. Oliver released a tremulous breath as he ran a soothing hand over the dog’s back and watched Felipe whisper something to Gwen. She nodded and slipped out of the parlor without a word. A single tug came across the tether as Felipe patted the dog’s head and approached Mr. Allen.
“Before we make any decisions about leaving, Mr. Allen, we need to know what we’re up against. Oliver truly knows nothing about his family or why he shouldn’t be in Aldorhaven, and it isn’t fair for him to have come all this way and leave with nothing. If we can’t stay to finish the case, Oliver at least deserves to know what happened to his mother and father.”
For a long moment, Mr. Allen said nothing. When Argos let out a mournful whine and gave Oliver’s face one long lick, Mr. Allen relented. “As much as it pains me to see Joanna and Stephen’s work in jeopardy, it’ll be safer for you to leave at first light. Let me deal with dinner, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Chapter Sixteen
Family Secrets
This dinner was one of the most awkward meals of Felipe’s life. When he asked Gwen to turn off the stove because he smelled dinner burning, he hadn’t expected her to set out plates and convince everyone to talkaftereating instead of during dinner. It was for the best as eating was the easiest way to reset Oliver’s mood and get things back on track. Unfortunately, over the course of the meal, Mr. Allen had gone from looking as if he were about to go to the gallows to anxiously glancing at the front door as if someone might burst in at any moment. The innkeeper’s repeated checking made Felipe wish he had donned his revolver under his bathrobe. Felipe was about to excuse himself to go lock the door when Gwen met his gaze from across the table and set the lock with her powers. That seemed to calm Mr. Allen, but it did little for Oliver.
After the dog sat in Oliver’s lap and refused to leave, the emotional chaos coming across the tether had slowed to a trickle until he realized their dinner was stuffed cabbage. There were few things Oliver refusedto eat, but this was one of them and there were no other options. A pile of slimy, disemboweled cabbage leaves sat forlornly on the side of Oliver’s plate while he picked at the rest of his meal and passively sent wave after wave of disgust battering against Felipe’s mind. Felipe ate his entire plate and an extra helping while barely tasting it, but at least the tremor in his hands had somewhat subsided. He wished he could do something to fix the miasma of misery hanging over the dining room, but there was nothing to be done, except drag a thirty-seven year old secret out into the open.
The moment everyone was finished and their plates had been taken to the sink to soak, Felipe herded them into the parlor. He needed to know whether he had to spirit Oliver and Gwen away immediately or if Mr. Allen’s story was nothing more than village drama. And he wasn’t waiting until morning to find out. Giving him a forlorn look, Oliver wedged himself against the armrest of the sofa, sitting as far from Mr. Allen as he could manage. Oliver was probably not going to like what he was about to hear, but Felipe hoped it would at least bring him closure. If anyone knew families could be far messier than anyone expected, it was him.
“Mr. Allen, could you start from the beginning and tell us all you know about Oliver’s parents?” Felipe asked from his place near the door as Gwen trailed in with Argos at her heels.
“Is the door locked?”
“Front and back,” Gwen replied as she sat beside Oliver.
Nodding, Mr. Allen plucked the wooden figurine of a horse off the end table. He ran his fingers over its smooth flank and side before hesitantly meeting Oliver’s grey gaze. “I’m still not sure if telling you this will help or put you in further jeopardy. I was sworn to secrecy thirty-seven years ago, and I have never told another soul about this apart from your grandmother. Are you sure you want to know what happened to your parents?”
“Yes,” Oliver replied, his voice harder than Felipe expected, “I’m sure.”
