The Soul of the Sun (The Argos Dynasty) Page 7

  I prayed it was enough.

  He paused, lowering his arm. “Pregnant? Are you sure? I don’t feel it.” He relaxed his hold on me just enough so that I could sit up.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” I told him, shaking with a mix of trepidation and relief. For the moment, it seemed I was out of imminent danger. “You are blocking me. Open your senses. Listen!”

  He eyed me warily, his face turning beet red. Only white noise stood between us. I had to try to break down the wall, it was the only way, because he wouldn’t budge.

  He grabbed for my arm, twisting until my body was pressed against him.

  “You lie to try to make me open up to you, and make me weak. But I am no fool.”

  “I’m telling the truth,” I cried.

  I reached for his free hand and held it in mine and tried to infuse his mind with my own, repeating the truth again and again. My soul and his were like magnets, held together with an invisible, electric current. I just had to break the barrier even for a brief moment.

  My heart froze. Dear God, it had to work. Sweat beaded up on my forehead as my anxiety rose up in waves. I stuffed it down.

  Vaguely I thought I saw a blue light surround me, but I didn’t have time to think about where it was coming from. It took everything I had to connect with him. I couldn’t die.

  Miraculously, his arms loosened and he surrendered his grip, collapsing against me in relief. “It’s true.” His voice cracked with emotion, the current between us severed.

  “Oh my beautiful Margaret! There is a child, and it’s mine.” With joy, he opened his arms to the wind that raced across the sea.

  I had precious little time to be relieved. For in the next instant, he took the knife meant for me and plunged it through his own heart.

  My ears rang loudly with my own screams. Thunder echoed in the distance as Mr. Mayfield’s legs crumpled beneath him, his blood staining the sand burgundy.

  I bent to help him but recoiled in shock as I felt his energy ebb away. Images of his life flashed through me as if I was reliving them myself. A life filled with excruciating pain. I couldn’t breathe. I dropped his hand. Backing away, I lost my balance, then vomited in the sand.

  I wept into my hands as the rain once again pelted down. I sat there for what seemed like an eternity, then finally stood, lifting my eyes to the horizon. The sea churned, foamy and grey. What had happened here? Why did he want to kill himself when he found out I was pregnant? So many unanswered questions. I let my gaze wander back to Thomas’s body. I had to get out of there. I turned and without a backward glance hurried across the sand.

  A child I hated had saved my life.

  19

  Margaret, July 1939

  Mama always kept all her important papers in the big mahogany secretary. The desk had belonged to my Grandma Potter. It had three big drawers and even more hidden compartments. It was my favorite place to write, partly because it was hidden away in the tower room where Mama couldn’t nag me, and partly because the sweeping view of the ocean never failed to inspire me and lift my spirits.

  It had been less than twenty-four hours since I’d left Thomas’s body on the beach. I kept waiting for someone to say something, run in and tell me that a body had been found. It never happened. Today, as I looked out of the big bay window, even the view couldn’t distract me. I toyed with the pen in my hands, letting my mind wander to that dark place. The place where I knew I was responsible for a man’s death. I wondered why I should feel such guilt when I’d seen him in my dreams the night before, killing my sister and hurting me in ways I didn’t even understand.

  I must have been sitting there a long time, lost in my own nightmare. The room had become stifling hot in the midday sun. I was thinking about going downstairs for a turkey sandwich and some of Mama’s lemonade when I heard two sets of footsteps on the stairs. Mama barged in; she was wearing a faded old blue calico dress. Her floor washing dress; it must be Thursday. Her face was flushed with embarrassment. I was confused until Ian stepped up behind her, in stark contrast with his navy blue blazer, crisp white shirt and matching blue pants. Mama was no doubt mortified about being caught in her housedress. I suppressed a giggle.

  He was carrying his black medical bag. That couldn’t be good news for me. Double drat.

  Mama, eager to shift the attention away from herself, clucked and gave me a disapproving scowl. “She’s just been sitting there for hours. Look how pale she is. And how thin! It doesn’t look like anyone’s in that dress, it’s like it’s still on its hanger.”

  “Hello Ian,” I said pointedly ignoring Mama. “This is a surprise. What brings you by?” I smiled just to show Mama she didn’t bother me one bit, even though I wanted to scream.

  “I had another patient to see, so I thought I would look in on you and see how you’re doing,” Ian said.

  “I’m fine really, I said. “In fact, I was just thinking about getting some lunch.” I shot Mama a smug look.

  Mama snorted. “See how stubborn she is? That girl has always had a temper. While you’re here Doctor, you may as well check her out. I think she needs a tonic or something.” With that, she huffed out of the room. It was a pretty good bet she was going to change her dress.

  Inwardly, I stewed. Mama should talk, she was as thin as a rail. I held my tongue, and gave Ian a wan smile.

  “Nice try. You’re too pale, your mother’s right.” He lowered his voice. “You are going to have tell her you’re pregnant soon, Margaret.”

  I shrugged, not saying a word. Easy for him to say. He wasn’t pregnant. Besides, I had other things on my mind.

  Obviously not liking my silence he walked over and sat in the brown overstuffed chair by the window. He eyed me intently.

  “All right, what’s going on Margaret? You know I’ll find out, so you may as well tell me.” He sank back into the chair. “Hmmm, let me see now, it seems to me that your aura is awfully dark. Something besides the baby is on your mind. Perhaps you’d like to tell me about it?”

  Damn him and his stupid auras.

  I stuck out my tongue at him. “Nothing’s the matter. I’m as fine as anyone pregnant could be. And just so you know, I don’t respond well to threats.”

  “Very mature, Margaret. Now tell me what happened,” Ian said somewhat impatiently. He crossed his arms and waited for me to spill the beans. I glared at him and noiselessly swung my legs away from the desk and headed to the piano in the corner. I pretended to be in deep contemplation, as I let my fingers slide over the cool ivory keys.

  “Margaret.” He came and sat next to me at the piano, grasping my hand.

  His eyes sharpened. “Come on, Margaret, I know there’s something wrong. You’re engulfed in negative energy. There is too much darkness around you.” He hesitated. “It feels like a loss or sorrow of some kind.”

  His words unlocked the door to my broken spirit. The tears spilled out and I found myself sobbing against his neatly tailored jacket.

  “I didn’t mean for it to happen. How was I supposed to know that he was going to kill himself? You do believe me, don’t you? I would never murder someone. I couldn’t ever do that.” The words tumbled out in a jumbled pile.

  Ian looked confused. “What are you talking about? Who Margaret? Who’s dead?”

  “Mr. Mayfield…he was on the beach—he attacked me…” I gulped catching my breath. It was hard to explain.

  Ian pushed back a damp strand of hair from my face.

  “Margaret it’s going to be all right. Of course you’re not a murderer. But you’re going to have to show me where the body is. I need to find it before someone else does. I must say I’m surprised no one has found it yet, a body on the beach isn’t something you would miss.”

  “He…” I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat, “he’s just beyond the dunes. Thomas stabbed himself through the heart.”

  Ian rose and went over to the phone on the desk and cancelled his next appointment.

  Then he turned to face me,
as if remembering something important. “Margaret, before this happened, I wanted to come and talk to you about the baby. And to check on how you’re feeling, of course. He gave me a quick smile. Let me make another call to get some help for Thomas. Just in case he’s still alive,” he continued hastily.

  He turned back to the phone.

  I suddenly felt very green; I had to get out of there. I held my hands over my mouth and with lightning speed raced out of the room, down the stairs and out to the garden, where I’m sad to say I very unceremoniously threw up all over the pink rose bush.

  I sat down on the wrought iron garden seat, trying to regain my composure. I breathed in the salt and sea air. The humidity swam in heavy waves, plastering my already damp hair to my head.

  The garden was beautiful, despite the heat. The midday sun peaked out momentarily from behind the storm clouds and the foliage glistened with rain diamonds. But even the beauty of it didn’t make me feel better.

  I could hear Ian still talking on the phone from the open window; he hadn’t noticed I was missing yet. Good, I thought. I slipped around the side of the house and headed down to the beach. The beautiful blue ocean stretched endlessly towards the horizon. I felt small and insignificant against this vast expanse of water and I wished it would just swallow me up, so that I wouldn’t have to be brave any longer.

  I stood there for a moment, the water lapping in small pools at my feet. Maybe he wasn’t dead…maybe I had only imagined it. I felt my legs moving once more, away from the water towards the dunes, back to Thomas.

  Was I clutching at straws? Willing to believe the impossible had happened?

  When I finally came to the spot where I had left him, I stopped, winded. I let my hands fall to my knees, my breath coming out in raspy gasps. I looked up and stared in disbelief.

  The sparkling golden sand lay before me—empty. Only the telltale burgundy blood stain in the shape of a full moon remained. I stood there, rigid. My heart pounded in my ears.

  The body was missing.

  I couldn’t breathe. For a moment, everything stopped. As my mind cleared, questions began. Where was he? Was he still alive, like Ian thought he might be? My stomach churned.

  20

  “MARGARET! MARGARET!”

  I turned. Ian was running towards me, his face stricken.

  Something was wrong.

  He came up alongside me. “What on earth is the matter?” I asked.

  “Margaret, thank God you’re all right. I was on the phone talking, and I turned around and you’d gone. I thought something awful had happened to you.” He pulled me to him and hugged me.

  “Margaret listen, I love you. Please don’t run off like that again. Promise me? I have a bad feeling this isn’t over, that there’s more to come.”

  “You love me? Did you say that you loved me?” I asked, overjoyed.

  He hugged me tighter. “Yes, yes I love you. I’ve loved you since the first day I met you, and I never want to lose you.” He kissed me, and I felt a fiery passion explode with me. It was a feeling I wanted to last forever.

  “Wait!” I managed to pull myself away from him. He didn’t know. I had to tell him.

  “The body is missing. I could’ve sworn he was dead. Do you think it’s possible I was wrong, and he’s still alive? He’s still out there somewhere. What am I going to do?”

  For the first time Ian looked down at the blood stained sand. “The body was here?” he knelt down and examined the sticky sand granules.

  “Yes, I’m sure of it,” I said.

  Ian looked around. “There’s no trail in the sand to show he crawled or walked away,” he said, mystified. “It’s very odd. There has to be a logical explanation for this; he can’t have just disappeared into thin air.” He rose up off his knees and circled the area. “I guess this explains why no one reported a body on the beach.”

  “This isn’t a textbook case, Dr. Ingall.” I crossed my arms and glared at him, annoyed with his statement of the obvious.

  He ignored me and continued to circle the evidence like he was a member of the police. “There is nothing but the blood to show he was here,” he mused.

  Right then, thunder rumbled and the rain pelted down on us in a sudden, angry torrent.

  Ian yelled over the thunder. “C’mon, we have to get out of this downpour.” He grabbed my hand and we raced across the dunes. Lightning bolted from the sky as we sped back to the house.

  21

  I shivered in my wet clothes; we were both soaked to the bone.

  “Margaret, you need to get out of these wet clothes and I need to be on my way,” Ian said, putting his arm around me. “I’ll call you when I find out what’s going on.” He gave me a quick kiss. “Look, don’t worry; everything’s going to be okay. We’ll have lunch tomorrow.”

  He turned and left. I realized we had made huge puddles on Mama’s clean kitchen floor. I sighed and went upstairs to change. I was so confused, but I didn’t want to think about love or anything close to love with everything that had happened with Thomas.

  He still haunted me, wherever he was. Dead or alive.

  The next day Ian and I went to lunch at the café around the corner from my house. The baby was still making me feel a bit green but I was making the best of it. We went and sat at corner booth and the waitress came and took our order. Shrimp n’ Grits for Ian and a simple salad for me.

  After the waitress had walked away there was a palpable silence. I wanted to reach out and touch Ian’s hand just to know what he was thinking about. I know I didn’t want to talk about love or the future today. So to fill the void I asked the first thing that popped into my head.

  “I see that Mayfield’s body still hasn’t been found. It worries me Ian.”

  “I know what you mean. None of this adds up. Bodies don’t just get up and walk away do they?” Ian reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “I want you to know Margaret whatever happens we are in this together.”

  I nodded but pulled my fingers back. I didn’t want to hear his thoughts anymore. Just in those first few seconds I’d managed to catch that he was nervous. He wanted to tell me he loved me again but he was afraid I might bolt.

  I had to give it to him, he knew me well. The guilt I felt about burdening Ian for the rest of his life ate at me.

  Fortunately the waitress came with our order and we fell to the business of eating.

  The smell of Ian’s shrimp and grits made me want to vomit, but I managed to hold onto the breakfast I had eaten earlier.

  It seemed that the meal lasted for an interminably long time. Finally Ian finished and we headed for the door. I was so lost in thought I almost tripped over a man that was sitting right next to the café’s entrance. Ian grabbed my arm to steady me, and I carefully stepped over the scraggly blonde haired bum. I shook off a shudder, as a chill ran down my spine. I looked around expecting the worst, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary, I continued to Ian’s car.

  It was sad really I mused that so many vagrants rode the rails south for the winter, hoping to find something better. I’m not sure if they ever did. It was August now and here was a man who had yet to capture his dream and make it real.

  So many dreams, dreams that had been so easily broken.

  22

  Margaret, August 1939

  I stood in the kitchen, furiously whipping the cake batter until it yielded into light golden folds. Yellow cake with chocolate frosting was Daddy’s favorite, and it was as good a bribe as any as far as I was concerned. I knew I had to tell Mama and Daddy about the baby and I didn’t really know how. So I thought I would just sit them down together and tell them the truth—that their single daughter had been raped and was now pregnant with a bastard child. Yeah, this was going to be real fun.

  I was hoping the cake would at least help to keep Daddy’s temper at bay.

  I hadn’t seen Ian all week, not since that day at the café. I longed for him. He would know what to do. He would hold my hand and help me
face Daddy. I’d almost called him a dozen times. But I never went through with it. It just wouldn’t be fair and I loved him too much for that.

  I poured the rich, creamy batter into the pan and placed it in the oven. Daddy would be home in a couple of hours. He had his own boat and fished the waters off the South Carolina coast. It was a grueling job, even when the water was calm. Hopefully the fish had been biting today. Mama had gone to the post office, so I didn’t expect either of them back for a while. I calculated I had time to bake the cake without her snooping around and asking all sorts of questions.

  I pulled the tea bags down from the cupboard as the water on the stove began to boil. I turned off the burner put the teabags in the pot to steep. Mama didn’t like cake too much but she loved her sweet tea.

  I took the frosting out of the larder and let it soften a little bit so I could smooth it on the cake later. With nothing left to do, I sat down at the kitchen table and tried to think of the best way to explain this baby. Every which way I thought about it, it never ended well. I gave up and rested my head in my hands.

  Who was I kidding? My life was a disaster. Daddy would have to send me away to one of those homes for single mothers that everyone knew about but never spoke of. How could I have brought such shame on the family? And what would become of the baby?

  My head hurt just thinking about it.

  Everyone was silent throughout dinner and there had been an uneasy tension in the air. I’d leapt from the table as soon as I was finished. Mama and Daddy eyed me warily. The heavy meatloaf, boiled potatoes and wilted cabbage now felt like lumps of coal in the pit of my stomach.

  Mama asked, “Heaven’s sake child, what’s your rush?”

  “I have a special surprise for dessert,” I said, a little too brightly.

  Mama’s focus narrowed. Her brown eyes glinted like steel in the light.

  I turned away and saw to the task at hand. I spread the finishing touches of chocolate icing on the cake and gave it a final inspection. Satisfied, I set it carefully on Mama’s doily in the center of the table along with a big pitcher of sweet tea. My hands felt sweaty and I wiped them on the front of my apron.