Chapter 3
From the tower, Hugh watched the young woman below. Over the decades of his haunting he had learned to recognize the signs. She had sensed him earlier and would bear watching. It had been many years since he had been unable to control when a living being could see him. She was sensitive, that one, though not as much as her younger sister.
Now, that little one ... she did not simply see him, she spoke to him. Disobeyed him. So like his Maire. He shook his head. Those two little girls. Such headstrong wills in tiny, frail bodies, yet they each carried so much spirit.
A confusing rush of emotions flowed through him, both pride in the children and frustration. He was the master of the citadel. How dared those infants presume to command him?
In spite of his frustration, the corners of Hugh’s mouth twitched.
Coop
ONCE HE REACHED THE GATEHOUSE, Coop jumped from the truck and hurried to the passenger side. By the time he reached it, his father had the door open and was trying to get out by himself.
“Let me help,” Coop said.
“I can do it.” His father stepped from the truck and put weight on the foot. When he grimaced, Coop reached out but his father brushed away his hand.
“Steve.” The tone in Coop’s mother’s voice stopped his father short. She slid from the back seat and came to stand beside him too. “Don’t be such a baby.”
“Fine, then. Help the old man,” he growled and accepted the hands they offered him.
“I’ll get some ice,” his mother said once they had him up the stairs.
“Come on, Pop.” Coop helped him into his favorite recliner. “What’s really bothering you?”
“So much for making a good impression.” His father heaved a sigh as he reclined the chair. “Why did that have to happen right when the new owners were arriving?”
Coop gently removed the boot, and they examined the foot. The rope had left a few burn marks on the skin.
“The bruising’s not really too bad,” Coop said. “My sprained ankle looked a lot worse. Can you move it much?” He hoped they wouldn’t need to make a run into town to see a doctor. Pop hated going to the doctor.
His father carefully made a circle, wincing only a little. He had full, if painful, mobility.
“Well, it might not be all bad.” Coop rose. “Maybe they’ll be more sympathetic because of your injury.”
“You mean maybe they won’t boot us right away.” His mother entered the living room.
“Well now they must think I’m a complete incompetent.” His father flinched as she gently placed a bag of ice on his ankle. He sighed. “Ah, now that does feel better.”
“I know Ez and Lia,” Coop said, standing by the window that provided the best view of the citadel. “They’re good people. Let’s give their parents a chance before we assume we’ll all lose our jobs.”
He did sympathize with his parents. The last two months had been hard on all of them. They had lost a friend as well as an employer. None of his family had minded the move to the gatehouse. Not after Miles had died. The old man’s vibrancy had seemed to fill the castle. With it gone, the citadel had been like a different place. A lonely place.
His parents hadn’t known what to do. Wait and hope the new owners kept them on or seek employment elsewhere. None of them wanted to leave, so they’d decided to wait to see what the new owners chose to do with the place.
Coop smiled. Already the Savages had changed the citadel’s atmosphere. The place seemed alive again. He stretched to catch a glimpse of Lia but saw no sign of her.
“Who wants to hire two people turning sixty this year and so close to retirement?” Pop rubbed his forehead. “Besides, how many caretaker jobs are out there anyway?”
Coop turned back to the window. He’d received another email from his internship supervisor. The invitation to apply for the open position did not come with a guarantee, but it looked good that they’d asked him to apply. It was the second time they’d approached him about a position there.
When he’d received the first invitation to apply, he’d mentioned it. His parents had not been excited about the suggestion.
“I hate California,” Pop had grumbled. “Too many people. Too much traffic.”
“It’s too hot there,” his mother had said.
For six weeks they had researched and argued about other options. In case the Savages saw no need to retain their services.
