Out in the hallway, Duke leaned in and whispered in my ear, “What am I supposed to do here?”
I nodded toward Carson Drew, then looked up at Duke.
“I want my father to shake hands with the man I love.”
Koshkamrwwp-ed.
“Right. And shake paws with my cat.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
It was late, so we didn’t stay long. Nancy escorted Pops, Duke, Koshka, and me to the street, where Duke had hung my umbrella on the tree branch.
“I’ll take this gentleman home where he belongs,” Pops said, elbowing Duke.
“And this one too,” Duke said. He picked up Koshka and kissed me chastely on the cheek. Pops was watching us after all. “See you soon, darling?”
“Wait,” I said. I wanted to tell him that he couldn’t run from his mother and family obligations forever. He needed to go back to England and face the past he’d left behind. But when I tried to get the words out, nothing. Silence.
I looked at Nancy. “You’re right. You can’t tell a fictional character how to change.”
She shrugged. “Told you so.”
“What was that all about?” Duke demanded.
“Nothing,” I said, then grabbed his face and kissed him hard (but not too hard, because this was still a Nancy Drew novel, after all).
“What was that for?” he asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Congratulations,” I said. “You have now solved every mystery you’ve ever attempted to solve, including the mystery of us.”
“Well done me,” he said, beaming.
“Now go on. Get back in your books. I’ll be there soon.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Then he and Pops and Koshka disappeared before our eyes.
And there I was, all alone with Nancy Drew by the picket fence in front of her picturesque River Heights home lit by a single ancient streetlamp.
“As much as I hate to admit it,” I said, “it’s probably for the best I didn’t learn all this about my mother and father and you until now. If I’d learned at age fifteen? I would have disappeared into this book and never looked back.”
And since I was fictional…no one could’ve stopped me.
“Your grandparents would’ve been devastated to lose you,” Nancy said. “And all those books you restored, all those Burners you defeated…”
“And I never would’ve met Duke either. But I’m glad to know my mother was so happy here.”
“Very happy,” Nancy said. “When she left to go visit her parents, she promised to come back. She would’ve come back if she hadn’t gotten sick.”
“But if you had a mother or a stepmother keeping an eye on you,” I told her, “you never would’ve gotten away with all the wild shenanigans you got up to. Your father gave you a lot of leeway.”
“I know why my writers didn’t want me to have a mother. I needed my freedom to get into trouble and, well, this was a hundred years ago. Losing a parent was much more common then. But losing your Mums in any era…it’s terribly unfair.”
“Peripartum cardiomyopathy,” I said, because you never forget the name of the monster that killed your mother. “Pops said she was home just two days before she started struggling to breathe. They delivered me immediately, but the damage to her heart was already done. She was in and out of the hospital, but only got sicker and weaker. Five months later, she was gone. No reason or rhyme. That’s what I hate about the real world. Death is so meaningless.”
