A Spider Comes Calling Page 6

  I didn’t voice my doubts on that outcome, but focused on binding the worst of Drew’s wounds. The rumble of the wagon alerted me before Mr. Timmons’ voice could that it was time to depart. The men carried Drew outside while Lilly and I lay out another blanket on the back of the wagon. I gave a hasty yet tender hug to my cousin, and we set off for home.

  I sat with Drew, his head cradled on my lap, and I couldn’t help but ponder Mrs. Steward’s words. My ire mellowed to disquiet for, spiteful though her words had been, was there not a trace of truth within her diatribe, given his wild tendencies and werewolf nature? Could he ever be trusted or would he always prefer the company of wild dogs and brain-devouring Kerit over humans?

  Once home, I settled Drew in the guest room while Mr. Timmons requested my father’s presence. Upon his arrival, I embraced him. “I apologize for disturbing you,” I said. “But Tiberius felt you could help us.”

  Father waved away my concern with a gentle elegance that called to mind his son. Indeed, the only differences in comportment and appearance were Tiberius’s coloring and youthful beauty. “Think nothing of it, my dear,” he said, “for I’m delighted as always to see you. If I can be of service to the living, so much the better.” Thus reassuring me, he went directly to the guest room and set to work while I paced about the living area, my agitation increasing by the minute.

  Sitting with a book in hand, Mr. Timmons wisely refrained from offering me solace. Instead he suggested, “Perhaps you should fetch clean clothes for our guest? He may be in need of some.”

  Grateful for the activity and for my husband’s comprehension that I was in no mood to be placated, I rummaged through Mr. Timmons’ clothes chest until I found suitable attire.

  When Father exited the room where Drew lay, he ushered me over and placed his hands upon my shoulders with such tenderness that I closed my eyes.

  “He will be fine, Beatrice,” Father said, his voice soft and warm.

  “Will he?” I demanded and tried to pull away from the embrace but failed. “Will any of us ever be fine? He runs around with wild beasts. He’s a werewolf!”

  Bemused, Father replied, “And I’m a vampire. What of it?”

  Abandoning my efforts to distance myself from his gentle energy, I stomped a foot in protest. “That’s different. You’re in control of it. But he is so unpredictable and always running toward trouble.”

  Mr. Timmons snorted at that, and I couldn’t notice with chagrin the irony of my statement. Hadn’t my husband pointed out a similar tendency in me? Father merely chuckled. “It seems to be a family trait,” he commented with some mirth.

  Before I could argue or defend myself, Drew called my name. Father nodded, indicating that I should go. “Be kind to him,” he advised.

  “Or at the very least, don’t hurt him too badly,” Mr. Timmons added, his snicker following me.

  “I’ll try to restrain myself,” I muttered.

  Bundling the clothes in my arms, I entered the guest room, closed the bedroom door behind me and leaned against it. Drew was sitting upright, much of his torso and arms covered in bandages. While he had certainly improved from an hour ago, weariness still lingered in his features, and a wariness hardened his gaze.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  He shrugged and refrained from responding. This only provoked me, for I blurted out, “Cilla’s gone, you know. And most likely will be married off in short order.”

  Drew’s head snapped up, and he stared at me, his intense gaze unnerving even though it was not much different from my own. His hands griped the bedsheets in white-knuckled fists, his ragged and ill-kempt nails reminiscent of claws, and a dangerous tension settled about his jaw. In that moment, I regretted my haste in providing such disturbing news. Whatever had transpired during these past few weeks since the Kerit attack on Nairobi, it had certainly not gone well for him. I berated myself for not withholding the truth until he had regained his strength. Yet perversely I continued.

  “Well, what did you expect, Drew?” I said, my voice low and harsh. “That she would wait around forever for you? You ran off with a pack of murderous beasts.”

  Flinging aside the blanket, Drew sprang up and growled, his canines prominent in his open mouth. “The Kerit aren’t beasts.”

  “They decapitate people and devour their brains,” I countered as I thumped the clothes onto a chair. “How is that not beastly?”

  He shook his head, long, unwashed hair hanging about his face. “They were provoked. And I was leading them away, assisting them to return to their natural home.”

  I scoffed at that, even though I knew his words to be true. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said. “She’s gone, and it’s unlikely she will ever return.”

  Teeth grinding audibly, he stalked about the room, his hands clenching as if searching for something to grab onto and shred apart. His back and shoulders were tense, and I hadn’t appreciated how muscular he had become until then.

  “For the love of decency, put on a shirt,” I fumed as I tossed him the spare clothes.

  He flung the offering to one side and continued his pacing. While I wasn’t prone to nostalgia, a memory surfaced of a trip to the zoo with Mother when life had been simple and innocent. I’d noted, even as a child, how the monkeys and herbivores had seemed rather content with their lot; the carnivores however had had another sort of disposition, one of discontent and frustration, of hunger unappeased and a restlessness that no amount of movement within the confines of the concrete and metal cages could dissipate.

  That same description could easily be applied to Drew.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  He didn’t respond or cease his pacing, nor would he meet my gaze. As I had nothing more to say, I left the room a few minutes later, only to barely avoid walking through Gideon.

  “Where’s Shelby?” he demanded with disapprobation in his posture and tone as he floated before me.

  “Who?” I asked, my attention still consumed by the altercation with Drew.

  “The baby,” Gideon responded.

  “The baby,” I repeated. “What… The baby! Oh, goodness.”

  “You forgot the baby?” Gideon growled as he levitated to the ceiling, in all appearances like a wrathful angel. “You’re worse than Shelby’s first negligent mother! How does one forget a baby?”

  “I was somewhat distracted by the sight of my nearly dead brother,” I said, my face warmed by irritation and shame as I hastened to collect a riding cape.

  “Half-brother,” Gideon corrected, “and that’s hardly an adequate excuse.”

  Mr. Timmons glanced up as I dashed through the room. “Going for a ride at this hour?”

  “She forgot Shelby,” Gideon hissed. “Consider yourself forewarned, Mr. Timmons. This wife of yours is most neglectful.”

  “Indeed,” he replied with a disinterested mildness. “I have yet to be served a supper to replace the one we abandoned this evening.”

  “Precisely,” Gideon said. “She has developed a nasty habit of abandonment: first the supper, now the baby.”

  “It’s a monkey,” I said as I yanked on my boots and stomped to the door. “And fetch your own supper.”

  Gideon clucked. “Heartless.”

  “Try not to drown,” Mr. Timmons murmured.

  “Especially if you have Shelby with you,” Gideon added.

  “Good gracious,” I muttered and slammed the door with greater force than was strictly necessary.

  Chapter 10

  NELLY MADE LIGHT and speedy work of the trip, else we might have arrived too late to save Mrs. Steward’s frazzled nerves from the trials and tribulations that could only result from a wild animal let loose in the house. Even before I stepped onto the veranda, I ceased breathing for a moment in anticipation of the shrill cry of a distressed woman, the shattering of dishes being dropped or tossed, and the general mayhem that ensued when a baby monkey interrupted a dinner party. The deceptively peaceful silence that instead gr
eeted me only furthered my agitation to such an extent that I didn’t pause to knock but let myself in.

  The members of my extended family startled at my dramatic entrance and paused in masticating their food, forks held frozen above their dessert plates. Mrs. Steward bustled in from the kitchen, muttering invocations against Mary, the girl having absconded from her post by the stove. She too paused and peered over at me.

  “My word, Beatrice, your hair is in quite a state,” she exclaimed as she settled a dish of bread pudding onto the table. “I do hope you didn’t return with that madman in tow.”

  Mr. Steward clucked with something that hinted at disapproval, before busying himself with a study of his utensils. One of Tiberius’ finely shaped eyebrows rose and his mouth quirked with amusement even as he schooled his face into a semblance of mild inquisitiveness.

  “Did you wish to join us after all?” Lilly asked, not at all perturbed by my hasty and unannounced return.

  “Yes. No!” I blustered and snatched up the basket left by the door. My relief was short-lived for I could tell by the weight that the occupant was no longer residing therein. My eyes twitched as I scanned the room for any locations a baby simian might find more appealing than a cozy blanket. As I had no experiences with either babies or monkeys, my imagination was stretched and, given my line of work, that was an impressive feat.

  “Mrs. Timmons?” Tiberius murmured and, upon snagging my attention, tilted his head slightly toward the china cabinet. “Is there something perhaps missing?”

  “Oh my,” I breathed out as I caught sight of Shelby crouching atop the china cabinet, immediately behind my aunt who remained utterly unaware. “Yes, I believe there is,” I said as I dashed across the room.

  My motion only excited Mrs. Steward’s curiosity, for she spun about, ladle in hand. “Beatrice, this is really intolerable,” she said as she began waving the long metal utensil as if conducting an orchestra. Shelby watched the motion, transfixed by the flashes of light reflecting off the ladle’s round, shiny surface. “This is far too much commotion for a sedate family meal. You must decide if you are staying or not.”

  In response, Shelby leaped onto the ladle, unable to resist its lure. Mrs. Steward, alerted by the motion that something was amiss, glanced up and shrieked with such force that I was certain her nerves were in a state from which she wouldn’t soon be recovering. The monkey, equally astonished, leaped back onto the cabinet; not to be outdone, she squawked back and bounced on her little paws.

  Armed with nothing more than the ladle which she brandished about with impressive force, Mrs. Steward simultaneously squealed at her hairy opponent while castigating her husband for his inattentiveness. Meanwhile, Tiberius, Bobby and Mr. Steward were seated comfortably at the dining table, clearly enjoying the entertainment being provided alongside their dessert, while Lilly stood nearby and attempted to console her mother while avoiding being swatted.

  More screeching issued from the top of the cabinet. A quick glance reassured me that Shelby was unharmed. The little monkey wisely remained out of reach of Mrs. Steward.

  “Did you forget something, dear cousin?” Lilly asked, having succeeded in persuading her mother to abandon her battle.

  “You!” Mrs. Steward shrieked and pointed the ladle at me as if she could launch a projectile out of the rounded end. “You brought that demonic beast into my home.”

  “I’d hardly describe a baby monkey as demonic,” I said and marveled that I felt any inclination to defend Shelby. “A pox on Gideon and his newly acquired paternal sentiments,” I muttered to myself.

  Unable to tolerate any more tribulation, Mrs. Steward collapsed onto a chair, leaned an elbow on the dining table and settled her forehead against her hand, as if she could no longer support the weight of her own head. “We are in an uproar, and it is all your doing,” she huffed, her chubby features flushed with emotion and heat. “Out of the goodness of my tender heart, I took you in, a penniless, orphaned girl, and now this!” She waved her other arm around as if to encompass everything. “This is how I am repaid. Oh, my nerves! They are tattered beyond repair.”

  I didn’t point out that it was the firmness of my parents’ lawyer, not her tender heart, which had induced her to take me into her home. Instead, I pulled a chair from the dining table toward the china cabinet and stood on it. My chin barely reached the top of the cabinet, but I could see Shelby blinking at me, her little muzzle quivering and sniffing.

  “Care to join us for supper, Beatrice?” Mr. Steward asked me, the mildness of his voice doing little to disguise the amused quaver that hinted at suppressed laughter.

  While I was hungry, a glance at my enraged aunt dissuaded me from accepting the hospitality. “Another time perhaps. Could you pass me a potato?”

  Tiberius, also bemused by the scene and not as subtle about it as his father-in-law, speared a potato on a fork and passed it to Lilly who obliged me before continuing to stroke her mother’s trembling shoulders.

  “It is an astonishment to me how my delicate constitution has held up thus far, Lilly,” Mrs. Steward said with a sniff. “And you are the only one who seems to care for me and who sympathizes with all I have endured. It is nothing short of miraculous really that I have not collapsed under the weight of all these adversities.”

  Lilly cast a glance skyward as if requesting divine patience while she continued to make soothing noises. Meanwhile, Shelby was creeping toward the potato, blissfully unmindful of the upset she had caused.

  “Come on, you naughty simian,” I whispered.

  Shelby wrinkled her pale nose at me, one of her delicate and minuscule hands twitching over the potato, as if aware that this might be a trap. The soft pads of her fingers descended even as she studied me intently, her brown eyes unblinking. After a further sniff, she must have come to the conclusion that being trapped was worthwhile if one was provided such a handsome feast. She leaped onto the potato, gripping it with loving ferocity.

  “And that’s that,” I said, scooping up monkey and potato in my human hand while the metal hand twitched with my wolf energy.

  “Thank heavens that ordeal is over,” Mrs. Steward said as she allowed her head to loll over the back of the chair in a worthy impression of a near faint.

  Shelby chattered in agreement, little bits of potato smeared over her face.

  “Can I play with it?” Bobby demanded while inspecting his bowl for any remaining scraps of dessert.

  “No, you may not,” my aunt shouted before I could reply. “Beatrice, remove that flea-ridden thing from my house. I have been so terribly abused. Elephants destroy my garden, zebras pummel my coffee table, and now I cannot even find a sliver of peace at my own supper.”

  “Madam, I assure you that Shelby has no fleas,” I said, frowning at the impertinent suggestion, and made my way to the door. “Come on, Shelby, we know where we’re not wanted.”

  Tiberius escorted me to the door as my aunt was disinclined to do so and my uncle was bent over on the pretext of picking up a dropped handkerchief under the table while he silently laughed himself red in the face. Lilly remained standing behind her mother, her mouth pursed while her shoulders quavered with suppressed giggles.

  Once outside, my brother chuckled. “It certainly is a source of amusement if nothing else,” he murmured as he lit a cigarette.

  “Indeed,” I replied as I settled Shelby and the potato in the basket and covered both with the blanket.

  “It’s going to rain again,” he continued and gestured at the moon which was surrounded in a hazy halo.

  He exhaled a plume of smoke. The deep warmth of tobacco enveloped me, reminding me of my mother’s husband, a man who had believed me to be his daughter and whom I had referred to as father for most of my life.

  “Then I’d best be off,” I said as Shelby abandoned her meal, sprung up to my neck and clung there with admirable, if not annoying, tenacity.

  “It suits you,” Tiberius said, smiling softly.

  “What?
Having a monkey clinging to me?” I demanded.

  He shook his head. “Having a baby in your arms.”

  I snorted even as I turned my flushed face away from him. “Really, Tiberius. That’s preposterous. I hardly think I’m suitable for such an occupation. In the first day of caring for this one, I neglected to feed her and I managed to forget her. If not for Gideon’s reminders, she’d surely be dead or trapped with Mrs. Steward. Truly, I don’t have a maternal fiber in my body.”

  Chuckling gently, he flicked spent ash into a muddy puddle. “So you say.”

  Unimpressed and unwilling to contemplate the possibility, I allowed my brother to assist me up onto Nelly. With the basket swinging off one arm, my walking stick clutched under the other, a monkey wrapped about my neck and Tiberius’ words echoing in my mind, I felt thoroughly off-balance.

  “Try to stay out of trouble,” he said, his caramel-colored features soft in the watery moonlight.

  “It’s not as if I go searching for it,” I replied with a sniff and a reproving glance at him.

  “All the same,” he said. “Do make the effort.”

  I tugged at the reins. “I’m riding on a possessed horse and carrying a baby monkey through lion-infested wild lands,” I said in bewilderment. “How is that searching for trouble?”

  “And therein lies the problem,” he replied, his smile widening, “for you see nothing odd about that statement.” So saying, he waved farewell and re-entered the house.

  Chapter 11

  MULLING OVER HIS statement, I watched Tiberius enter the house. “I still don’t see what the fuss is,” I muttered and slapped Nelly’s neck.

  Snorting and flicking her tail, Nelly didn’t wait for instructions. In a flurry of moist air and dark blurs, we thundered away and arrived at our barn in the time it took me to suck in a few breaths.