Read Online Garden of the Moon by Elizabeth Sinclair - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Sinclair
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through and through. Somewhere, deep inside she knew he didn’t want to hurt her. “No. I don’t sense any evil about him at all.”
“None?”
“No. None. I just wish I knew what he wanted.”
“If you don’t sense evil around him, then I’d say what he wants is pretty clear.” Smiling, Julie laid her hand on Sara’s. “If you look as much like Maddy as you say, then I think he believes his Maddy has come back, and that’s why he’s here.” She paused. “And he did say that he was waiting.”
Sara stood. “That’s absurd.” She walked to where the specter of Jonathan Bradford had been. “Why would he be waiting for me? I’m not Maddy.” She turned to Julie. “Am I?”
***
That night, after the house was silent, Sara made a trip to the attic on her own, determined to find anything else that would help her unravel the mysteries plaguing her and Harrogate. Armed with the pitiful light from a single candle and with no idea exactly what it was she was searching for, she began to dig through the myriad of stored family objects. She dug into drawers in half rotted dressers; pawed through trunks of yellowed clothing; opened books and fanned through pages that fell apart at her touch; looked behind, over and under anything she thought could be concealing something; and even ran her fingers along the overhead beams.
After almost an hour of fighting clinging cobwebs and choking dust, she’d found nothing that would shed light on any of her questions about anyone with a role in Harrogate’s past and the short, tragic life of Jonathan Bradford or Maddy Grayson or the evil that lurked here.
Discouraged and about to give up, she noticed a large trunk pushed under the slanting rafters, behind a pile of boxes. Placing her candle on a nearby hat box, she shoved the boxes aside, kneeled beside the trunk, and then pried open the lid. Since the hinges had rusted, it took several tries before it finally budged enough for her to lever the top up. Inside were items obviously belonging to a man: shirts, trousers, coats, several accounts ledgers with the name Harrogate written in gold leaf on their covers, and a set of engraved dueling pistols. Nothing of any help to her.
About to close the lid, she spotted a white porcelain shaving mug with the gold initials JB on it. She picked it up and traced the initials with her fingertip. This had been his . She knew it as well as she knew her own name. As when she’d touched the painting, her fingertips grew warm. The awareness rushed throughout her body, making her tremble. Suddenly, the sensation of millions of butterflies taking wing in her stomach made her weak all over.
What did all this mean?
Movement near the head of the stairs caught her attention. Thinking Raina had followed her, she turned to tell the maid she would be down directly. But the words never passed her lips.
Standing at the head of the stairs was the transparent image of Jonathan Bradford. Clutching the shaving mug to her breast, she froze, waiting for whatever would come next. None of the ghosts she’d ever seen had attacked her, but with Gran’s warning of evil in the house ringing in her memory, this could well be a first. Perhaps, contrary to Julie’s belief that he’d come back because he had Sara confused with Maddy, this man may have chosen to appear because he had something malicious in mind for her. If that were the case, why didn’t she feel it, why did she feel nothing more than a magnetic tug drawing her toward him and a warmth that went so deep inside her, it became a part of her?
For a very long moment he just stared at her, as though drinking in the sight of her. Then he smiled and beckoned for her to follow him. When he started down the stairs, Sara roused herself and quickly closed the trunk, grabbed the candle and, clutching the shaving mug, hurried after him. In the downstairs hallway, he stopped from time to time and looked back, as though to make certain she was still
“None?”
“No. None. I just wish I knew what he wanted.”
“If you don’t sense evil around him, then I’d say what he wants is pretty clear.” Smiling, Julie laid her hand on Sara’s. “If you look as much like Maddy as you say, then I think he believes his Maddy has come back, and that’s why he’s here.” She paused. “And he did say that he was waiting.”
Sara stood. “That’s absurd.” She walked to where the specter of Jonathan Bradford had been. “Why would he be waiting for me? I’m not Maddy.” She turned to Julie. “Am I?”
***
That night, after the house was silent, Sara made a trip to the attic on her own, determined to find anything else that would help her unravel the mysteries plaguing her and Harrogate. Armed with the pitiful light from a single candle and with no idea exactly what it was she was searching for, she began to dig through the myriad of stored family objects. She dug into drawers in half rotted dressers; pawed through trunks of yellowed clothing; opened books and fanned through pages that fell apart at her touch; looked behind, over and under anything she thought could be concealing something; and even ran her fingers along the overhead beams.
After almost an hour of fighting clinging cobwebs and choking dust, she’d found nothing that would shed light on any of her questions about anyone with a role in Harrogate’s past and the short, tragic life of Jonathan Bradford or Maddy Grayson or the evil that lurked here.
Discouraged and about to give up, she noticed a large trunk pushed under the slanting rafters, behind a pile of boxes. Placing her candle on a nearby hat box, she shoved the boxes aside, kneeled beside the trunk, and then pried open the lid. Since the hinges had rusted, it took several tries before it finally budged enough for her to lever the top up. Inside were items obviously belonging to a man: shirts, trousers, coats, several accounts ledgers with the name Harrogate written in gold leaf on their covers, and a set of engraved dueling pistols. Nothing of any help to her.
About to close the lid, she spotted a white porcelain shaving mug with the gold initials JB on it. She picked it up and traced the initials with her fingertip. This had been his . She knew it as well as she knew her own name. As when she’d touched the painting, her fingertips grew warm. The awareness rushed throughout her body, making her tremble. Suddenly, the sensation of millions of butterflies taking wing in her stomach made her weak all over.
What did all this mean?
Movement near the head of the stairs caught her attention. Thinking Raina had followed her, she turned to tell the maid she would be down directly. But the words never passed her lips.
Standing at the head of the stairs was the transparent image of Jonathan Bradford. Clutching the shaving mug to her breast, she froze, waiting for whatever would come next. None of the ghosts she’d ever seen had attacked her, but with Gran’s warning of evil in the house ringing in her memory, this could well be a first. Perhaps, contrary to Julie’s belief that he’d come back because he had Sara confused with Maddy, this man may have chosen to appear because he had something malicious in mind for her. If that were the case, why didn’t she feel it, why did she feel nothing more than a magnetic tug drawing her toward him and a warmth that went so deep inside her, it became a part of her?
For a very long moment he just stared at her, as though drinking in the sight of her. Then he smiled and beckoned for her to follow him. When he started down the stairs, Sara roused herself and quickly closed the trunk, grabbed the candle and, clutching the shaving mug, hurried after him. In the downstairs hallway, he stopped from time to time and looked back, as though to make certain she was still
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