Yanecia - Nora Roberts- Garden Trilogy - Red lily

“That makes sense.” And made her feel better.

“Added to that, it was the night after Mitch and I were married,” Roz said. “She’d have been miffed.”

“And it’s the second time we’ve got a firsthand report of her walking toward the carriage house. There’s something there,” Mitch said to Harper.

“She’s not letting me know about it. So far.”

“Meanwhile we keep looking. We believe she lived in this area, so our best bet is Reginald kept her in one of his properties.” Mitch lifted his hands. “I’m still pursuing that avenue.”

“If we find out her name, her whole name,” Hayley asked him, “would you be able to research her the way you did the Harper family?”

“It’d give me a start.”

“Maybe she’ll tell us, if we just find the right way to ask. Maybe . . .” She trailed off when singing came through the monitor. “She’s with Lily, and she’s early tonight. I’m just going to go up and check.”

“I’ll go with you.” Harper got to his feet.

She didn’t argue. Even after more than a year, the sound of that sad voice sent a chill up her spine. As was her habit, she’d flicked lights on in her wing so she wouldn’t have to come back up in the dark. They reassured her now, as the sun was nearly set, as did the sounds of Luke and Gavin playing in the sitting room.

“You know, if you’re uneasy being over here alone, you could move into the other wing, closer to Mama and Mitch.”

“Just what the newly married couple need. Me and a baby as chaperones. Anyway, I’m mostly used to it. She’s not stopping.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “She almost always stops before I get to the door.”

Instinctively she reached for Harper’s hand as she eased open the door she always left off the latch.

It was cold, but she’d expected that. Even after Amelia was gone, the chill would linger. Yet Lily was never disturbed by it. Her breath puffed out, a little startled cloud when she heard the distinctive creak of the rocker.

That was a new one, Hayley thought. Oh boy.

She sat in the rocker, wearing her gray dress. Her hands lay quiet in her lap as she sang. Her voice was pretty, unschooled but light and tuneful. Comforting, as a voice singing lullabies should be.

But when she turned her head, when she looked toward the door, Hayley’s blood ran as cold as the air in the room.

It wasn’t a smile on her face, but a grimace. Her eyes bulged, and were rimmed with violent red.

This is what they do. This is what they give.

As she spoke—thought—the form began to disintegrate. Flesh melted away to bone until what sat in the chair was a skeleton that rocked in rags.

Then even that was gone.

“Please tell me you saw that.” Hayley’s voice trembled. “Heard that.”

“Yeah.” With his hand firm on hers, he drew Hayley across the room to the crib. “Warmer here. Feel it? It’s warm around the crib.”

“She’s never done anything to scare Lily. Still, I don’t want to leave, go down again. I’d just feel better if I stayed close tonight. You can tell the others what happened?”

“I can bunk up here tonight. Take one of the guest rooms.”

“It’s all right.” She arranged Lily’s blanket more securely. “We’ll be all right.”

He tugged her hand, gestured so that she went back out into the hall with him. “That was a first, right?”

“A definite first for me. It’s going to give me nightmares.”

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” He touched his hand to her cheek, and it flitted through her mind that was another first. They were standing close, her hand in his, his fingers on her cheek.

All she had to do was say, no. Stay with me.

And then what? She could start something, and ruin everything.

“Yeah. It’s not like she’s mad at me or anything. No reason to be. We’re good, we’re fine. You’d better go down, fill the others in.”

“You get spooked in the night, call. I’ll come.”

“Good to know. Thanks.”

She slid her hand out of his, eased back, and slipped into her own room.

No, Amelia had no reason to be mad at her, Hayley considered. She had no boyfriend, no husband, no lover. The only man she wanted was off-limits.

“So you can relax,” she murmured. “Looks like I’ll be going solo for the next little while. three

HE HUNTED HER up the next day, mid-morning. But he had to be sly about it. He knew her well enough to be sure if she thought he was trying to help, to get her mind off things, to give her any sort of break, she’d brush him off.

Hayley Phillips was the original I’m-fine-don’t-worry-about-me girl.

Nothing wrong with that, Harper thought. In her place, a lot of women would have been happy to take advantage of his mother’s generosity, or at least to take that generosity for granted. Hayley did neither, and he respected that. He could admire her stand—to a point. But plenty of times, to his mind, that point tripped over into just mule-headed stubborn.

So he kept it casual, even when he had to poke into two greenhouses, work his way to the main building before he found her setting up a new display of houseplants.

She was wearing one of the nursery’s bib aprons over black camp shorts and a V-necked tank. There was damp soil on the apron, and on her forearm. Only repressed lust could be responsible for him finding it so absurdly sexy.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Not too bad. Had ourselves a little run on dish gardens. Customer just came in and bagged five as centerpieces for her sorority reunion lunch. And I talked her into taking the sago palm for her own sunroom.”

“Nice going. Guess you’re busy then.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Not too. Stella wants to make up more dish gardens, but she’s tied up with Logan, which isn’t as sexy as it sounds. Big job came in, and she’s locked him in the office until she gets all the details for the contract. Last I walked by, he wasn’t all that happy about it.”

“Ought to be at it for a while then. I was going to do some chip-budding. Could use some help, but—”

“Really? Can I do it? I can take one of the two-ways in case Ruby or Stella need me.”

“I could use another pair of hands.”

“Mine’ll be right back. Hold on.”

She dashed through the double glass doors, and was back in thirty seconds, shed of the apron and hitching a two-way to her waistband. And giving him a quick peek at smooth belly skin.

“I read up some, but I can’t remember which is the chip-budding.”

“It’s an old method,” he told her as they started out. “More widely used now than it used to be. What we’re going to do is work some of the field stock, some of the ornamentals. Mid-summer’s the time for it.”

Heat hit like a wet wall. “This sure is mid-summer.”

“We’ll start on magnolias.” He picked up a bucket of water he’d left outside the door. “They never stop being popular.”

They walked over gravel, between greenhouses, and headed out to the fields. “Things stay quiet last night?”

“Not a peep after that little show we were treated to. I’m hoping she doesn’t plan an encore of that trick. Gross, you know?”

“She sure knows how to get your attention anyway. Okay, here’s what we do first.” He stopped in front of a tall, leafy magnolia. “I’m going to pick some ripe shoots, this season’s wood. You want one not much thicker than a pencil with well-developed buds. See this one?”

With an ungloved hand, he reached up, gently drew a shoot down.

“Okay, then what?”