My fingers tighten on the paper. “Does she sing here sometimes?”
He shifts on his chair, and the V of his legs angles the other way. “Not if she can ’elp it. Too big for old Cornwall, she is.”
My heart pitters and sinks. She’s alive, though. Somewhere out there, my mother’s alive, possibly wondering if she’ll ever see me again.
Why didn’t you search for me, Mum? Why didn’t you come?
My edgy gaze finally settles on the paper again.
Isabella de Montfort sings Giuseppe Verde’s La Traviata
I close my eyes and the music of her voice sweeps over me.
Sleep, little child, let your dreams take flight
For you are my heart, and my love, my light.
Opera. My lovely, melodic mother sings opera. This floods my mind, settling into the cracks. “Is she still alive?”
A shrug. “Was some years ago.”
“Where…where can I find her family? Are they still about?”
He pauses his whittling and shrugs again. “Best check over to Dunn House, a ways up the coast. Can’t recall exactly, it’s been that long.”
I close my eyes and words flash across my vision.Hidethis the only one my searching mind can grasp as the words skitter away.
Hideth what?
“Where—”
“Merryn!” AJ’s shout carries across the roar of waves and wind.
The man’s face shutters, and I know he’ll accept no more prodding. But the name stirs me.Dunn House.No memory is attached, but the grandeur of it matches the sense of enormity and awe surrounding my childhood. I’m certain that if I can step inside it, I can feel my way back to all that happened there. The people, the events—they’ll all come rushing back. Then, perhaps when the inheritance comes in, I can travel to find my mother.
My mother!
I turn and AJ is leaping down the steep stone steps that lead from the center of town. A bag of food swings from one hand. It looks rather large. How many of our coins has he used to purchase it? He’s naturally extravagant—lavishing affection, patience, time—and now I wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse.
“I told you to stay put.” He’s out of breath.
“I never listen well.”
He smiles. “I know.”
I turn back to introduce him to this stranger, but the man and his whittling are gone. Then I spot him, farther down the beach. He’s walking along the shallows beside a stooped woman with silver hair puffed like cotton—two halves of the same whole. They progress slowly down the beach together, and he grabs her arm when she points at the sand and lowers herself to collect a rock. Then he helps her rise and they continue, leaning on one another as heavily as two trees that have grown together. Cut down one, and the other will die.
An ache swells inside and I peek at AJ. I have such a thing—it’s in my grasp.
Yet perhaps it doesn’t truly belong to me.
Chapter 10
Asthesunsinksinto the water, we sit cross-legged on large boulders and feast on the food he’s bought, then count the coins and plan. “If we travel third class and take our meals modestly,” I say quickly, “we’ll manage just fine.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “We have a destination now? Where are we going?”
A shiver prickles my arms. “Dunn House.” I smile. “Wear your finest.”
