To Catch a Ripple ~ Chapter Two
What risk is Vincent taking? Helen wondered. Why do he and Angie have to be careful?
“Well, I’m off to bed,” her roommate said. She slipped back down the hall and around the corner, and listened to his footsteps on the stairs.
Now was her chance…Rob was alone. She only had to ask him one, maybe two questions and his advice might help her get published, too. Maybe he wouldn’t tell her anything, but at least she’d have tried. She took a deep breath and went into the living room.
“Hello, Rob.”
He glanced up from his book, surprise on his face. “Hi, Helen.” He greeted her with a smile. “You’re still up?”
“Yeah. I’m always up late during the summer.”
“That’s right. Vincent told me you were a teacher for grade four?”
“Grade three.”
“Helen.” His eyes held her and she couldn’t look away. “I’m sorry if I said or did anything earlier to make you leave.”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing you did. I just hate being the center of attention.” His smile was as soothing as peppermint, and she took a place on the couch facing him. Now’s the time. Don’t back out. “I actually came to ask you a few questions. About writing.”
He leaned back, his eyes never leaving hers. “Ask away.”
“How did you get published?”
“Well, I had a story rolling around in my head since I was a boy, and one day I wrote it down. After a lot of hard work and a bit of luck, it was picked up by a small publisher.” He leaned forward, curiosity reflected on his face. “So tell me about you.”
“I’ve sent my manuscript out twelve times, but I haven’t had any success. I don’t know what to do to improve my chances.”
“Have you ever had any feedback?”
“Yes. I’ve dropped the wordiness and rounded out characters, but my biggest problem is with inconsistency, holes in the story. What I’ve said on page thirteen doesn’t match what happens on page thirty. That kind of thing.”
“Tell me about your book. What’s it about?”
Helen looked down at her lap. Would the published author scoff at her story? If she didn’t tell him, though, he couldn’t help her. “It’s about a girl who’s searching for her father.”
“Runia, right?”
She nodded.
“That’s interesting. What happens?”
“Uh, it’s a fantasy. Around 83,000 words.”
He smiled. “I’m not asking for a synopsis. Tell me your story.” He leaned forward, “I know this is hard and you don’t know me, but I want to help you and frankly, I’m curious. I’m not some jerk who’s going to rip it to shreds or steal your ideas. It’s just that I’ve only known a few people who write, and even fewer who write fantasy. It’s good to meet someone who understands. But of course, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s all right.”
His eyes shone with kindness. She swallowed hard. Take a chance. Trust him. “It begins on a world called Thylion, where a nobleman’s daughter, Runia, awakes one morning to find her father has disappeared.” As Helen told her story, Rob’s attention never wandered, he responded in the right places, and asked questions which clarified key points. The night deepened and she talked to him about everything…the publishing industry, his own writing, his friendship with Vincent. He always brought the conversation back to where she left off in her story, never forgetting a single detail.
“Why do you write fantasy?” he asked.
She thought for a moment. “I think I like fantasy because I can use my imagination. And….” She closed her mouth.
“And what?” The curiosity and kindness on his face urged her forward.
“And I can dream of something better.” She wrung her hands in her lap and looked away from him. “Rob, why do you write fantasy?” she dared to ask.
“To dream of something better.” Her eyes rose to meet his. There was a hint of melancholy in his expression and something more, an unspoken understanding, as if he was saying, I feel just like you. Something stirred in her, a feeling she had never felt before. This is where I belong.
She continued her story for him, but reached a point in the middle and paused.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I have two versions. I don’t know whether to give it the sad or the happy ending.”
“The happy ending.”
“But the bittersweet ending is more realistic.”
“Fantasy novels should have happy endings. Leave the sad endings to reality.”
“Aren’t there happy endings in reality?”
Robert remained silent, and his eyes left hers. He didn’t seem like a hardcore cynic who didn’t believe in God or true love…he wrote romance. Why did he think there were no happy endings in life?
She had felt that way once, when she was eleven or twelve. The abuse had been going on for years and she couldn’t see an end in sight.
Why did he remind her of that?
“What happens next?” he asked, flashing a smile, but pain still lingered in his eyes.
She didn’t want to pry into his privacy, so she didn’t ask, just continued with her story, hoping it would bring him some comfort.
“Are you going to have the happy ending or the sad one?” he asked.
“You’ll see.”
After an hour, she reached the final part of her novel. “Runia waited on the coast looking to where the sea met the horizon, and there a ship appeared, carrying her lover back to her. Neal and Runia never parted again.”
“You gave it the happy ending.” He smiled, the pain no longer on his face.
The desire to understand and help him urged her forward. “Rob, do you really believe there are no happy endings in life?”
He looked away from her. His right hand clutched his left fist, but he said nothing.
What should she say? She searched her life for a happy ending. After all the good she had done, Missy had died before she was sixty-five. Helen barely spoke to her own mother. Even though the abuse had ended twenty years ago, Helen didn’t know if she could ever be with a man. She couldn’t give Rob the comfortable lie, so she told him the truth. “I’m sorry, Rob.”
His eyes rose to meet hers.
“I wish I could tell you there were happy endings in reality, but the truth is, I don’t know. But, the thought that I might find happiness, that’s what keeps me going.” She leaned forward, her gaze never leaving him. “Rob, I hope someday you’ll find your happy ending, just as I hope someday I’ll find mine.”
He seemed surprised, and tears shone in his eyes. He blinked and held out his hand, and she took it. “I hope we find them, too.”
Someone knocked on the front door. Helen and Rob jumped. His eyes darted to the front hall and back to her, and he put on a nervous smile.
Who would be there at six o’clock on a Sunday morning? Was it the police? Could there have been an accident? Maybe her neighbors needed help. She leapt up and peered out the window. There was no police car, but a white Cadillac sat in the drive.
“Who is that?” By the time she asked he was already at the door.
A man in white thrust a red envelope into his hand, turned, and left without a word. Rob stared at the packet, looking like he was going to vomit.
“Rob, are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He flipped the crimson paper in his fingers.
“What is that?”
“This is my reality,” he said, with a misery that cut into her. He gave her a smile, his beautiful mask. “Don’t worry about it.” He stuffed the letter into his pocket. “I’ve kept you up all night. Thank you, Helen.” He held out his hand and she took it. “Thanks for everything. I’ll see you later?” It was more a question than a promise.
“I’d like that.”
The smile turned genuine. He squeezed her hand and disappeared up the stairs.
***
Doctor Edward Seagrave lived on the estate in the shadow of Lord Gabriel’s manor. He had few visitors, but he was pleasantly surprised when his cousin Rob stopped by that morning.
“Ed, you’re looking kind’ve worn down,” Rob said as he took a seat at the kitchen table. “Maybe you should take a break and go on vacation.”
It was their private joke. Edward hadn’t gone on vacation in years. “Where would you recommend? You’ve been all over the world.”
“I think you should go somewhere far away, where there are no cell phones, computers, or pagers, so you can really get away from it all.”
“And if Gabriel gets sick, he’ll have no doctor.” The head of the family refused to let anyone other than Edward treat him.
“Exactly!” Rob laughed. “And if his health takes a turn for the worse, that would be a turn for the better.”
“You’ll get yourself into trouble if your opinions of our illustrious head are overheard by the wrong people.”
Rob sobered. “True enough. But, there are no ‘wrong people’ in this house.” His hands shook as he picked up his coffee cup. His jacket lay crumpled on the chair and his shirt was half-unbuttoned. When a man was called to the manor, he needed a jacket and tie, even on a humid July morning. Rob must have seen Gabriel.
The doctor brought out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. He inhaled and his mind drifted as he stared at the smoldering cancer stick. He’d nearly quit when he was with Christina, but now he was up to two packs a day. Christina Morrison was vivacious and spontaneous, qualities which Edward lacked. They had met at the hospital where she worked as an intern. She told him she wanted to make the world a better place. No one could change the world, but Christina had changed his life. They went skiing, caving, dancing…they fell in love.
It was forbidden. Edward knew he was defying Gabriel, but he couldn’t help himself and he couldn’t help her.
The patriarch discovered their secret, and had sent his men to harass her with phone calls, follow her, and sneak into her apartment. She tried to stop it…she went to the police, even changed the locks on her doors, but they kept spying on her. Edward suspected Gabriel was responsible, but Christina had a jealous ex-boyfriend, so he wasn’t certain.
Then one night after she had a shower, wrapped only in a towel, she entered her living room and found Raphael, one of Gabriel’s men, sitting on the sofa.
She had to go. She begged Edward to come with her, but if he left, Gabriel would hunt him down. The family had to live within the boundaries, an area chosen by the patriarch. Edward couldn’t move beyond the Greater Toronto Area. Christina wanted to go much farther. If he joined her, Gabriel would have brought him back and punished him and his mother, just as he had punished Rob after ten years of running.
He shuddered, thinking of Rob’s raw, ravaged body after Gabriel’s “re-education.”
Edward stayed. Christina, the only woman he had ever loved, left. Sometimes he lay awake staring into the dark and thought of finding her, of risking everything just to see her again.
But then, he thought of his father. You are a Seagrave. The family is your first priority. It’s your duty to obey its head. Before Edward, Henry Seagrave had been the family doctor. He had also smoked two packs a day. When Edward was thirteen, his father died of a heart attack at the age of forty. In September, Edward would turn thirty-two.
Stress squeezed his chest, and he broke down into another coughing fit. After he regained control, he avoided Rob’s look of concern. “How’s Vincent?” Since the three boys were cousins around the same age, they had grown up as best friends.
“He’s fine.”
“I’m not so sure it’s a wise idea, inviting the family to their home.” They shared a knowing look. All eyes would be on Vincent and Angie.
“Don’t worry. He and Angie are being careful.”
“Vincent is always careful, but when everyone’s there, it would be easy to make a mistake.”
“True enough. But I’ve got his back.”
Edward smiled. His assumption was correct. Rob had gone to Vincent’s home to protect his cousin. If anyone suspected Vincent and Angie were together, Rob could verify they were only friends. By then he would have been living with them for a week and could claim he had seen nothing romantic between them.
“They’ve been together for years and haven’t been discovered yet,” Rob said. “And I plan to keep it that way.” His right hand clenched his left fist as it always did when he was anxious or upset. “So, I’ll be staying there for a little while longer.”
“Is something troubling you?”
“No, it’s nothing. Don’t worry.” He picked up his coffee and asked, “How are things with Timothy?”
The boy was the latest addition to the Seagrave clan. Eight years earlier, his mother, Davena, had disappeared. She and Edward were third cousins. Gabriel’s men had searched for her but she had eluded capture until three months ago. By the time she was brought back to the family, her cancer had spread from her colon to her stomach, so she no longer had the strength to run or fight when Gabriel took her son. The head of the family placed the boy in Edward’s home, close by but not in the manor. Edward guessed Gabriel, whose health wasn’t robust, didn’t want a rambunctious seven-year-old running around the mansion’s one hundred rooms. So, Gabriel appointed Edward and his mother as the boy’s guardians. “Timothy’s comfortable. He’s healthy.”
“But how are things with him? What’s it like to be a father?”
“‘Guardian’ is a more appropriate term.”
“I wonder if they have a card for that,” Rob said with an impish smile.
“What do you mean?”
“A ‘Happy Guardian’s Day’ card.” Rob’s tone was playful, but his words were serious.
Edward shook his head and Rob chuckled. The doctor sighed. “I’m so busy all the time, I think someone with more energy would be better suited to raise him.”
His friend placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Ed. As a father, you’re a natural. You’ve been raising Vince and me since we were kids.”
Edward smiled.
A haunted look passed over Rob’s face, one Edward had seen several times. His cousin leaned close. “Ed, you have to keep Timothy away from him.”
The doctor had seen the same expression on Davena’s face when she’d told him the sordid secret regarding her and the head of the family. I didn’t want to, but I was summoned, so I had to do whatever he wanted. And I’m not the only one, Edward. Promise you’ll keep my boy away from Gabriel.
He had promised he would do all he could to protect her son. Since he had lived with them, no summons came for Timothy, but if the red envelope showed up at their door, how could he keep the boy from the head of the family? No Seagrave could disobey the summons without facing Gabriel’s fury.
He gave Rob a sidelong glance. I’m not the only one. Davena’s voice echoed in his memory.
Rob waited. Pain reflected on his face, a pain Edward now understood. “I’ll do whatever I can to protect Timothy.”
His cousin gave him a melancholy smile.
I should say something. I should do something. But, what can I do? I couldn’t help Christina.
His cousin got up. “Well, I’d better go.”
“Rob, whenever you need a place to stay, you’re always welcome here.”
“Thanks, Ed.” He held out his hand and Edward took it.
“Give my regards to Vincent.”
“I will.”
Stress gripped his heart as he watched his friend join Michael, who was waiting for him at the edge of the yard. Gabriel’s guard was there to escort Rob home. They disappeared down the path through the woods. Rob, you didn’t come to the estate just for a visit. Gabriel summoned you.
***
Helen rolled over in bed, struggling to sleep, but questions rumbled through her mind like the storm outside. Why did Rob look so miserable when he got that envelope? Who was that man in white?
She turned again, sighed, and got out of bed. She always blew situations out of proportion when she was tired. A cup of herbal tea would help. Chamomile calmed her.
She entered the kitchen. Angie sat at the table reading the paper. “Good morning, Helen. You’re still up?”
“Yeah, I’m having a hard time sleeping.”
“So, Rob kept you up all night.” She chuckled. “I’m glad you two are getting along.”
“Yes, he is as nice as you said.” She took the chair across from her friend. Questions rolled around inside her.
“What’s wrong?” Angie asked.
This was her cue to assure her nothing was amiss, but the questions wouldn’t settle down. She hated asking, but she had to know. “Angie.” She leaned in towards her. “Have you ever heard of someone called Gabriel?”
Her roommate lowered her cup.
Lightning flashed outside the window.
“Lord Gabriel is the head of the Seagrave family.”
“The head of the family?”
“The Seagraves are a close-knit clan with a long history. They’re all descended from the handful of members who came here from Britain two hundred years ago. For example, Vincent is Lord Gabriel’s third cousin. But the clan isn’t just a family, they’re more like a community bound to the patriarch.”
“The patriarch? Is he like a great grandfather figure?”
Angie shook her head. “No, Lord Gabriel is only around forty. The headship is passed down through one line from father to oldest son. The family believes the patriarch is God’s chosen, so he has the divine right to rule.”
“Just like royalty.”
“Yes.” Angie looked down at her coffee. “Just like a king, Lord Gabriel can make the family do whatever he wants.”
“Angie.” Helen drew in even closer and lowered her voice. “This morning Rob received a red envelope. It was delivered by a man wearing a white suit.”
“That’s the summons. Whenever Lord Gabriel wants to see a member of the family, he sends out a red envelope.”
“He sends one at six o’clock on a Sunday morning?”
Her roommate sighed. “He’s like that. But, the Seagraves still follow him. It’s….” She shut her mouth.
Angie wanted to tell her something, but she was holding back. What did she not want to tell her?
The summons is a tradition that the family brought from Europe, one that goes back centuries.” She sipped her coffee, then said, “Originally, the Seagraves were a noble family in England. The story goes like this. When the Black Death hit Europe, the head of the family, Lord William, was worried for his clan. He asked his friend, Saint Peter, the abbot of a local monastery, to bless the family and spare it from the plague. The holy man told Lord William to summon all members to his estate, where they should stay together and have no contact with the outside world until the plague passed. Lord William sent red envelopes with the family seal to all members. They lived on his estate until the plague was over. Those who followed the summons lived. Those who didn’t died.” Angie folded her hands around her coffee mug. “There’s a saying within the family, ‘If you go against the head, misfortune will befall you.’ That’s why they follow a summons, even on a Sunday morning.”
“I’ve never seen Vincent receive one.”
“He gets them from time to time. Usually they’re invitations to family events.”
What kind of an event would happen on a Sunday morning? And why didn’t Vincent receive a summons? “I guess Gabriel needed to see Rob for some reason.” A reason that didn’t make Rob very happy.
The kettle was ready, and Helen poured her tea. Steam rose from her cup. The question brewed inside her…she had to ask. She had to know more about their visitor so she could understand and maybe help him. “Angie, tell me, what’s the real reason Rob doesn’t have a home?” He seemed to be doing well with his writing, so he could afford a place of his own. If he was a free spirit, he’d be happy to not settle down. Rob was not happy.
Angie’s eyes darted from the kitchen door leading to the dining room, the other door going to the back hall, and the third exit to the back yard. Vincent and Rob were not around.
“I think he’s running from Gabriel.”
“Running from him?” Why would he have to run? Is Gabriel that terrible? Helen itched to ask Angie about the risk she and Vincent were taking and why Vincent had to lie to the head of the family, but then she would have to admit she was eavesdropping; and what if Angie didn’t know Vincent told Gabriel he was gay? Why would he care if Vincent and Angie were together? The Seagraves are bound to tradition, but something doesn’t feel right. A nagging sense stirred in the pit of her stomach, one she had learned not to ignore. There’s more to this than she’s telling me. “Why would Rob need to run from him? Angie, what kind of person is this Lord Gabriel?”
Her friend leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He’s a monster.”
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“Well, I’m off to bed,” her roommate said. She slipped back down the hall and around the corner, and listened to his footsteps on the stairs.
Now was her chance…Rob was alone. She only had to ask him one, maybe two questions and his advice might help her get published, too. Maybe he wouldn’t tell her anything, but at least she’d have tried. She took a deep breath and went into the living room.
“Hello, Rob.”
He glanced up from his book, surprise on his face. “Hi, Helen.” He greeted her with a smile. “You’re still up?”
“Yeah. I’m always up late during the summer.”
“That’s right. Vincent told me you were a teacher for grade four?”
“Grade three.”
“Helen.” His eyes held her and she couldn’t look away. “I’m sorry if I said or did anything earlier to make you leave.”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing you did. I just hate being the center of attention.” His smile was as soothing as peppermint, and she took a place on the couch facing him. Now’s the time. Don’t back out. “I actually came to ask you a few questions. About writing.”
He leaned back, his eyes never leaving hers. “Ask away.”
“How did you get published?”
“Well, I had a story rolling around in my head since I was a boy, and one day I wrote it down. After a lot of hard work and a bit of luck, it was picked up by a small publisher.” He leaned forward, curiosity reflected on his face. “So tell me about you.”
“I’ve sent my manuscript out twelve times, but I haven’t had any success. I don’t know what to do to improve my chances.”
“Have you ever had any feedback?”
“Yes. I’ve dropped the wordiness and rounded out characters, but my biggest problem is with inconsistency, holes in the story. What I’ve said on page thirteen doesn’t match what happens on page thirty. That kind of thing.”
“Tell me about your book. What’s it about?”
Helen looked down at her lap. Would the published author scoff at her story? If she didn’t tell him, though, he couldn’t help her. “It’s about a girl who’s searching for her father.”
“Runia, right?”
She nodded.
“That’s interesting. What happens?”
“Uh, it’s a fantasy. Around 83,000 words.”
He smiled. “I’m not asking for a synopsis. Tell me your story.” He leaned forward, “I know this is hard and you don’t know me, but I want to help you and frankly, I’m curious. I’m not some jerk who’s going to rip it to shreds or steal your ideas. It’s just that I’ve only known a few people who write, and even fewer who write fantasy. It’s good to meet someone who understands. But of course, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s all right.”
His eyes shone with kindness. She swallowed hard. Take a chance. Trust him. “It begins on a world called Thylion, where a nobleman’s daughter, Runia, awakes one morning to find her father has disappeared.” As Helen told her story, Rob’s attention never wandered, he responded in the right places, and asked questions which clarified key points. The night deepened and she talked to him about everything…the publishing industry, his own writing, his friendship with Vincent. He always brought the conversation back to where she left off in her story, never forgetting a single detail.
“Why do you write fantasy?” he asked.
She thought for a moment. “I think I like fantasy because I can use my imagination. And….” She closed her mouth.
“And what?” The curiosity and kindness on his face urged her forward.
“And I can dream of something better.” She wrung her hands in her lap and looked away from him. “Rob, why do you write fantasy?” she dared to ask.
“To dream of something better.” Her eyes rose to meet his. There was a hint of melancholy in his expression and something more, an unspoken understanding, as if he was saying, I feel just like you. Something stirred in her, a feeling she had never felt before. This is where I belong.
She continued her story for him, but reached a point in the middle and paused.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I have two versions. I don’t know whether to give it the sad or the happy ending.”
“The happy ending.”
“But the bittersweet ending is more realistic.”
“Fantasy novels should have happy endings. Leave the sad endings to reality.”
“Aren’t there happy endings in reality?”
Robert remained silent, and his eyes left hers. He didn’t seem like a hardcore cynic who didn’t believe in God or true love…he wrote romance. Why did he think there were no happy endings in life?
She had felt that way once, when she was eleven or twelve. The abuse had been going on for years and she couldn’t see an end in sight.
Why did he remind her of that?
“What happens next?” he asked, flashing a smile, but pain still lingered in his eyes.
She didn’t want to pry into his privacy, so she didn’t ask, just continued with her story, hoping it would bring him some comfort.
“Are you going to have the happy ending or the sad one?” he asked.
“You’ll see.”
After an hour, she reached the final part of her novel. “Runia waited on the coast looking to where the sea met the horizon, and there a ship appeared, carrying her lover back to her. Neal and Runia never parted again.”
“You gave it the happy ending.” He smiled, the pain no longer on his face.
The desire to understand and help him urged her forward. “Rob, do you really believe there are no happy endings in life?”
He looked away from her. His right hand clutched his left fist, but he said nothing.
What should she say? She searched her life for a happy ending. After all the good she had done, Missy had died before she was sixty-five. Helen barely spoke to her own mother. Even though the abuse had ended twenty years ago, Helen didn’t know if she could ever be with a man. She couldn’t give Rob the comfortable lie, so she told him the truth. “I’m sorry, Rob.”
His eyes rose to meet hers.
“I wish I could tell you there were happy endings in reality, but the truth is, I don’t know. But, the thought that I might find happiness, that’s what keeps me going.” She leaned forward, her gaze never leaving him. “Rob, I hope someday you’ll find your happy ending, just as I hope someday I’ll find mine.”
He seemed surprised, and tears shone in his eyes. He blinked and held out his hand, and she took it. “I hope we find them, too.”
Someone knocked on the front door. Helen and Rob jumped. His eyes darted to the front hall and back to her, and he put on a nervous smile.
Who would be there at six o’clock on a Sunday morning? Was it the police? Could there have been an accident? Maybe her neighbors needed help. She leapt up and peered out the window. There was no police car, but a white Cadillac sat in the drive.
“Who is that?” By the time she asked he was already at the door.
A man in white thrust a red envelope into his hand, turned, and left without a word. Rob stared at the packet, looking like he was going to vomit.
“Rob, are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He flipped the crimson paper in his fingers.
“What is that?”
“This is my reality,” he said, with a misery that cut into her. He gave her a smile, his beautiful mask. “Don’t worry about it.” He stuffed the letter into his pocket. “I’ve kept you up all night. Thank you, Helen.” He held out his hand and she took it. “Thanks for everything. I’ll see you later?” It was more a question than a promise.
“I’d like that.”
The smile turned genuine. He squeezed her hand and disappeared up the stairs.
***
Doctor Edward Seagrave lived on the estate in the shadow of Lord Gabriel’s manor. He had few visitors, but he was pleasantly surprised when his cousin Rob stopped by that morning.
“Ed, you’re looking kind’ve worn down,” Rob said as he took a seat at the kitchen table. “Maybe you should take a break and go on vacation.”
It was their private joke. Edward hadn’t gone on vacation in years. “Where would you recommend? You’ve been all over the world.”
“I think you should go somewhere far away, where there are no cell phones, computers, or pagers, so you can really get away from it all.”
“And if Gabriel gets sick, he’ll have no doctor.” The head of the family refused to let anyone other than Edward treat him.
“Exactly!” Rob laughed. “And if his health takes a turn for the worse, that would be a turn for the better.”
“You’ll get yourself into trouble if your opinions of our illustrious head are overheard by the wrong people.”
Rob sobered. “True enough. But, there are no ‘wrong people’ in this house.” His hands shook as he picked up his coffee cup. His jacket lay crumpled on the chair and his shirt was half-unbuttoned. When a man was called to the manor, he needed a jacket and tie, even on a humid July morning. Rob must have seen Gabriel.
The doctor brought out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. He inhaled and his mind drifted as he stared at the smoldering cancer stick. He’d nearly quit when he was with Christina, but now he was up to two packs a day. Christina Morrison was vivacious and spontaneous, qualities which Edward lacked. They had met at the hospital where she worked as an intern. She told him she wanted to make the world a better place. No one could change the world, but Christina had changed his life. They went skiing, caving, dancing…they fell in love.
It was forbidden. Edward knew he was defying Gabriel, but he couldn’t help himself and he couldn’t help her.
The patriarch discovered their secret, and had sent his men to harass her with phone calls, follow her, and sneak into her apartment. She tried to stop it…she went to the police, even changed the locks on her doors, but they kept spying on her. Edward suspected Gabriel was responsible, but Christina had a jealous ex-boyfriend, so he wasn’t certain.
Then one night after she had a shower, wrapped only in a towel, she entered her living room and found Raphael, one of Gabriel’s men, sitting on the sofa.
She had to go. She begged Edward to come with her, but if he left, Gabriel would hunt him down. The family had to live within the boundaries, an area chosen by the patriarch. Edward couldn’t move beyond the Greater Toronto Area. Christina wanted to go much farther. If he joined her, Gabriel would have brought him back and punished him and his mother, just as he had punished Rob after ten years of running.
He shuddered, thinking of Rob’s raw, ravaged body after Gabriel’s “re-education.”
Edward stayed. Christina, the only woman he had ever loved, left. Sometimes he lay awake staring into the dark and thought of finding her, of risking everything just to see her again.
But then, he thought of his father. You are a Seagrave. The family is your first priority. It’s your duty to obey its head. Before Edward, Henry Seagrave had been the family doctor. He had also smoked two packs a day. When Edward was thirteen, his father died of a heart attack at the age of forty. In September, Edward would turn thirty-two.
Stress squeezed his chest, and he broke down into another coughing fit. After he regained control, he avoided Rob’s look of concern. “How’s Vincent?” Since the three boys were cousins around the same age, they had grown up as best friends.
“He’s fine.”
“I’m not so sure it’s a wise idea, inviting the family to their home.” They shared a knowing look. All eyes would be on Vincent and Angie.
“Don’t worry. He and Angie are being careful.”
“Vincent is always careful, but when everyone’s there, it would be easy to make a mistake.”
“True enough. But I’ve got his back.”
Edward smiled. His assumption was correct. Rob had gone to Vincent’s home to protect his cousin. If anyone suspected Vincent and Angie were together, Rob could verify they were only friends. By then he would have been living with them for a week and could claim he had seen nothing romantic between them.
“They’ve been together for years and haven’t been discovered yet,” Rob said. “And I plan to keep it that way.” His right hand clenched his left fist as it always did when he was anxious or upset. “So, I’ll be staying there for a little while longer.”
“Is something troubling you?”
“No, it’s nothing. Don’t worry.” He picked up his coffee and asked, “How are things with Timothy?”
The boy was the latest addition to the Seagrave clan. Eight years earlier, his mother, Davena, had disappeared. She and Edward were third cousins. Gabriel’s men had searched for her but she had eluded capture until three months ago. By the time she was brought back to the family, her cancer had spread from her colon to her stomach, so she no longer had the strength to run or fight when Gabriel took her son. The head of the family placed the boy in Edward’s home, close by but not in the manor. Edward guessed Gabriel, whose health wasn’t robust, didn’t want a rambunctious seven-year-old running around the mansion’s one hundred rooms. So, Gabriel appointed Edward and his mother as the boy’s guardians. “Timothy’s comfortable. He’s healthy.”
“But how are things with him? What’s it like to be a father?”
“‘Guardian’ is a more appropriate term.”
“I wonder if they have a card for that,” Rob said with an impish smile.
“What do you mean?”
“A ‘Happy Guardian’s Day’ card.” Rob’s tone was playful, but his words were serious.
Edward shook his head and Rob chuckled. The doctor sighed. “I’m so busy all the time, I think someone with more energy would be better suited to raise him.”
His friend placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Ed. As a father, you’re a natural. You’ve been raising Vince and me since we were kids.”
Edward smiled.
A haunted look passed over Rob’s face, one Edward had seen several times. His cousin leaned close. “Ed, you have to keep Timothy away from him.”
The doctor had seen the same expression on Davena’s face when she’d told him the sordid secret regarding her and the head of the family. I didn’t want to, but I was summoned, so I had to do whatever he wanted. And I’m not the only one, Edward. Promise you’ll keep my boy away from Gabriel.
He had promised he would do all he could to protect her son. Since he had lived with them, no summons came for Timothy, but if the red envelope showed up at their door, how could he keep the boy from the head of the family? No Seagrave could disobey the summons without facing Gabriel’s fury.
He gave Rob a sidelong glance. I’m not the only one. Davena’s voice echoed in his memory.
Rob waited. Pain reflected on his face, a pain Edward now understood. “I’ll do whatever I can to protect Timothy.”
His cousin gave him a melancholy smile.
I should say something. I should do something. But, what can I do? I couldn’t help Christina.
His cousin got up. “Well, I’d better go.”
“Rob, whenever you need a place to stay, you’re always welcome here.”
“Thanks, Ed.” He held out his hand and Edward took it.
“Give my regards to Vincent.”
“I will.”
Stress gripped his heart as he watched his friend join Michael, who was waiting for him at the edge of the yard. Gabriel’s guard was there to escort Rob home. They disappeared down the path through the woods. Rob, you didn’t come to the estate just for a visit. Gabriel summoned you.
***
Helen rolled over in bed, struggling to sleep, but questions rumbled through her mind like the storm outside. Why did Rob look so miserable when he got that envelope? Who was that man in white?
She turned again, sighed, and got out of bed. She always blew situations out of proportion when she was tired. A cup of herbal tea would help. Chamomile calmed her.
She entered the kitchen. Angie sat at the table reading the paper. “Good morning, Helen. You’re still up?”
“Yeah, I’m having a hard time sleeping.”
“So, Rob kept you up all night.” She chuckled. “I’m glad you two are getting along.”
“Yes, he is as nice as you said.” She took the chair across from her friend. Questions rolled around inside her.
“What’s wrong?” Angie asked.
This was her cue to assure her nothing was amiss, but the questions wouldn’t settle down. She hated asking, but she had to know. “Angie.” She leaned in towards her. “Have you ever heard of someone called Gabriel?”
Her roommate lowered her cup.
Lightning flashed outside the window.
“Lord Gabriel is the head of the Seagrave family.”
“The head of the family?”
“The Seagraves are a close-knit clan with a long history. They’re all descended from the handful of members who came here from Britain two hundred years ago. For example, Vincent is Lord Gabriel’s third cousin. But the clan isn’t just a family, they’re more like a community bound to the patriarch.”
“The patriarch? Is he like a great grandfather figure?”
Angie shook her head. “No, Lord Gabriel is only around forty. The headship is passed down through one line from father to oldest son. The family believes the patriarch is God’s chosen, so he has the divine right to rule.”
“Just like royalty.”
“Yes.” Angie looked down at her coffee. “Just like a king, Lord Gabriel can make the family do whatever he wants.”
“Angie.” Helen drew in even closer and lowered her voice. “This morning Rob received a red envelope. It was delivered by a man wearing a white suit.”
“That’s the summons. Whenever Lord Gabriel wants to see a member of the family, he sends out a red envelope.”
“He sends one at six o’clock on a Sunday morning?”
Her roommate sighed. “He’s like that. But, the Seagraves still follow him. It’s….” She shut her mouth.
Angie wanted to tell her something, but she was holding back. What did she not want to tell her?
The summons is a tradition that the family brought from Europe, one that goes back centuries.” She sipped her coffee, then said, “Originally, the Seagraves were a noble family in England. The story goes like this. When the Black Death hit Europe, the head of the family, Lord William, was worried for his clan. He asked his friend, Saint Peter, the abbot of a local monastery, to bless the family and spare it from the plague. The holy man told Lord William to summon all members to his estate, where they should stay together and have no contact with the outside world until the plague passed. Lord William sent red envelopes with the family seal to all members. They lived on his estate until the plague was over. Those who followed the summons lived. Those who didn’t died.” Angie folded her hands around her coffee mug. “There’s a saying within the family, ‘If you go against the head, misfortune will befall you.’ That’s why they follow a summons, even on a Sunday morning.”
“I’ve never seen Vincent receive one.”
“He gets them from time to time. Usually they’re invitations to family events.”
What kind of an event would happen on a Sunday morning? And why didn’t Vincent receive a summons? “I guess Gabriel needed to see Rob for some reason.” A reason that didn’t make Rob very happy.
The kettle was ready, and Helen poured her tea. Steam rose from her cup. The question brewed inside her…she had to ask. She had to know more about their visitor so she could understand and maybe help him. “Angie, tell me, what’s the real reason Rob doesn’t have a home?” He seemed to be doing well with his writing, so he could afford a place of his own. If he was a free spirit, he’d be happy to not settle down. Rob was not happy.
Angie’s eyes darted from the kitchen door leading to the dining room, the other door going to the back hall, and the third exit to the back yard. Vincent and Rob were not around.
“I think he’s running from Gabriel.”
“Running from him?” Why would he have to run? Is Gabriel that terrible? Helen itched to ask Angie about the risk she and Vincent were taking and why Vincent had to lie to the head of the family, but then she would have to admit she was eavesdropping; and what if Angie didn’t know Vincent told Gabriel he was gay? Why would he care if Vincent and Angie were together? The Seagraves are bound to tradition, but something doesn’t feel right. A nagging sense stirred in the pit of her stomach, one she had learned not to ignore. There’s more to this than she’s telling me. “Why would Rob need to run from him? Angie, what kind of person is this Lord Gabriel?”
Her friend leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He’s a monster.”
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