feed in Bluff House. His family slept in their beds; Abra slept in his. A lot of mouths to feed, a lot of people to protect.
He’d made a promise to tend the house. Landons kept their promises.
He needed to get the power on again, restore the light, the warmth, the safety, and protect what was his, what was loved, what was vulnerable.
As he approached the generator, he heard the sound of the sea like a hum, a note that rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell.
And against the hum he heard the bright beat of metal against stone. A metronome keeping time.
Someone’s in the house, striking at the house. Threatening what was his to protect. He felt the butt of a gun in his hand, looked down to see the glint of one of the dueling pistols in a light that had gone blue and eerie as the sea.
He moved through it while the hum built to a roar.
But when he stepped into the old section, he saw nothing but the trench scarring the floor.
He stepped to it, looked into it, and saw her.
Not Lindsay, not here. Abra lay in that deep scar, blood murderously red soaking her shirt, matting those wonderfully wild curls.
Wolfe stepped out of the shadows to stand in the blue light.
Help me. Help her. On the plea, Eli dropped to his knees to reach for her. Cold. Too cold. He remembered Lindsay as Abra’s blood covered his hands.
Too late. No, he couldn’t be too late. Not again. Not with Abra.
She’s dead, like the other one. Wolfe raised his service weapon. You’re responsible. Their blood’s on your hands. This time you won’t walk away.
The blast and echo of gunfire jolted Eli out of the dream, and into fresh panic. Gasping for breath, he pressed at the phantom pain in his chest, stared down, certain he’d see his own blood leaking through his fingers. Beneath his palm, his heart pounded, wild drumming against atavistic fear.
He groped for Abra, found the bed beside him cool and empty.
It was morning, he reassured himself. Only a dream, and now the sun streamed through the terrace doors and sprinkled white stars on the water. Everyone in Bluff House remained safe, secure. Abra had already gotten up, started the day.
Everything was fine.
He pushed up, saw the dog curled in her bed, one paw possessively over a toy bone. For some reason the sleeping dog settled him down another notch, reminded him reality could be just as simple as a good dog and a sunny Sunday morning.
He’d take the simple, as long as it lasted, over the complexities and miseries of dreams.
The minute Eli’s feet hit the floor, Barbie’s head came up and her tail swished.
“Everything’s fine,” he said out loud.
He pulled on jeans and sweatshirt, then went to look for Abra in her usual morning spot.
It didn’t surprise him to find her in the gym, but it did to see his grandmother there with her. And it struck him as undeniably weird to see indomitable Hester Landon sitting cross-legged on a red mat wearing stretchy black pants that stopped just above the knee and a lavender top that left her arms and, with two deep scoops, much of her shoulders bare.
He saw the scar from her surgery running up her left arm at the elbow—deep trenches, he thought, as in the basement. Scars on what was his, what he loved, what he needed to protect.
“On an inhale, lean left. Don’t overstretch, Hester.”
“You’ve got me doing old-lady yoga.”
The annoyance in Hester’s voice made the whole scene marginally less weird.
“We’re taking it slow. Breathe here. Inhale, both arms up, palms touch. Exhale. Inhale and lean right. Both arms up. Repeat that twice.” As she spoke, Abra rose to kneel behind Hester and rub her shoulders.
“You’ve got a touch, girl.”
“And you’ve got a lot of tension here. Relax. Shoulders down and back. We’re just loosening up, that’s all.”
“God knows I need it. I wake up stiff, and stay that way. I’m losing my flexibility. I don’t know if I can even touch my toes.”
“You’ll get it back. What did the doctors say? You weren’t hurt worse—”
“Wasn’t dead,” Hester corrected, and with his view of her profile, Eli saw Abra squeeze her eyes shut.
“Because you have strong bones, a strong heart.”
“A hard head.”
“No argument. You’ve taken care of yourself and stayed active all your life. You’re healing now, and need to be patient. You’ll be doing Half Moons and Standing Straddles by summer.”