In the corner of the cabin, the roof continued to leak. The steady drip had the excellent timing of a metronome. In minutes they were both sleeping.
Chapter Twenty
“I’m worried about her, Thaddeus.” Fiona made full use of the front room, pacing the length of it from the upright piano at one end to the gun rack at the other. Sometimes she circled, but mostly it was a straight line back and forth.
“Fiona.” Saying her name had no impact. She did not turn in his direction and she did not slow. Thaddeus watched her from his perch on the wide velvet arm of the sofa. He was sitting hipshot, one leg stretched out for balance, the other slightly bent. She disliked it when he sat on the arm of any piece of furniture instead of the seat cushion, so he had chosen to roost here hoping it would distract her long enough to get her to listen to reason. Thus far, it had not worked. “I understand you’re worried, but you have no foundation for it. I swear to you Phoebe is safe and she will return no worse off than when she left.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t know that.”
“I know my son. He will see it as his duty to keep her out of harm’s way. You have evidence to prove that he has done it before and no reason to think he will not do it again. Besides, Fiona, it israin, not robbers.”
She turned her head to glower at him, but there was no pause in her step. “It is astorm, Thad. Phoebe is afraid of storms. She used to hide in a trunk when she was a child. A trunk. She hasn’t outgrown the fear, only the trunks.”
Thaddeus admitted he didn’t know about Phoebe’s fear, but rather than mollify Fiona with the modest apology, it froze her anger. The glare from her amethyst eyes was glacial. Hefaced it head on. “She has good instincts. So does Remington. They’ll seek shelter.”
“Where?” she demanded. “Where will they find that? I don’t understand why they left at all. Why couldn’t he give her a riding lesson right here? Taking her away from Twin Star on horseback is not my idea of keeping her safe.”
“I believe Phoebe had the impression you would not approve of her learning to ride.”
Fiona stopped, set her hands on her hips. “That is not an impression. That is a fact. Learning to ride serves no purpose. It is an unnecessary risk for her to take and for the rest of you to support. She’ll have no use for it in New York.”
Thaddeus tilted his head, regarded her as he had not done before, and saw what he had only suspected. “Is that why you’ve never wanted to learn?”
Fiona’s hands fell to her sides. “I don’t know why you would say that. I am talking about Phoebe.”
“I thought we were,” he said. “Now I’m not so sure.”
Fiona resumed walking but without the anxious edge. Her steps were slower, more deliberate. “And I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Hmm.”
Fiona changed course and went to the window. She drew back the curtain and looked out. Rain cascaded from the porch roof and made a second curtain that was almost impenetrable. When the storm stopped, there would be a moat around the house, and that struck her as oddly perfect for her husband’s purposes. Without the requisite drawbridge, she was effectively his prisoner.
She let the curtain fall and turned her back on the window. “Where did he take her? You must have some idea.” Before he could answer, she added, “Please don’t tell me they went into town. I know Ellie prepared food for them. That suggests your son had something else in mind.”
“I wasn’t going to lie to you,” he said. “I don’t know if they got there, but they were headed to Thunder Point.”
Fiona leaned backward, pressed her hands flat to theroughly plastered wall. “No,” she said, although the word was hardly given sound. “Why? Why would he take her there? Isn’t that where... I don’t understand. Why would she agree?”
“Remington wanted to have another look around; he thought Phoebe could help. Neither of them has been back there since that night. It was time.”
“It was time? Time for what? For Phoebe to be reminded of every awful thing that happened to her? There is no sense in that. She needs to put it behind her; that’s what you do when terrible things happen. You put it behind you and walk on.”
“Has that been your experience?” he asked quietly.
Fiona gave a small start. She pushed away from the wall and took a step forward. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Putting bad things behind you and walking on. It sounded as if you were speaking from experience.”
“Did it? I was speaking from common sense. What is the point of dwelling when nothing can come of it? What kind of life can Phoebe make for herself if she is forced to confront the consequences of her past?”
“She wasn’t forced, Fiona. She wanted to go.”
“You have that from Remington, I suppose.”
“I do, and I have no reason to doubt him. I want to hear about these consequences. What is it that you think Phoebe is confronting out there?”
“She’s confronting what happened.”
