Cherished?
Holding my gaze, she backed away until her hand fell from my face, and she turned and crossed the hall with silent speed. But before she disappeared back into the laundry room, Elise glanced back at me.
“Cole?” she hoarse whispered. She was looking at me over her shoulder, her right hand resting lightly on the door sill and her body turned in a bewitching profile.
“Yes?”
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth as though uncertain about her next words.
“What is it?” I prompted.
“Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”
My smile was immediate, grown from all the way inside me. “I won’t,” I promised. And then I watched her disappear.
Chapter 13
ELISE
I left Cole in the hallway, his eyes following me as I walked away.
They were leaving.Hewas leaving. And I didn’t know if he’d be back.
That thought made my stomach lurch like I’d just missed a step on the stairs. How quickly my world had turned upside down. Before kissing Cole, I’d never wondered when I’d see him again.
Now the question nearly sent me into a panic.
But Cole needs my help, and that’s all that matters.
I crossed the kitchen and opened the cabinet that held all of the Whitehursts’ pitchers. Mrs. Abigail had quite a collection, and she wanted them put to use. Filling her bedside pitcher was a nightly ritual.
I picked up the small, white porcelain one with the pink roses painted on the side. It was delicate and beautiful. Just like Mrs. Abigail. As I filled it, I nodded to myself. Cole needed to get his mother out of here. For a split second before he’d slammed the bathroom door in my face, I’d seen her sprawled on the floor, a hunted look in her eyes.
I knew Mr. Whitehurst had hurt her, and I knew well enough that there was no one else who could help her except Cole.
He needed to leave, and I’d do whatever I could to help him.
“You bringing that up to Mrs. Abigail’s room?” Mama asked as I filled the pitcher.
“Yes ma’am.” I bit my tongue after to keep from chattering nervously.
“You think she’s going to turn in soon? It sounds like there’s still a few guests in the front of the house.”
I nodded. “There’s still a few, but she just looks tired.” This was true. Mrs. Abigail looked exhausted, but I knew she was suffering from more than fatigue. “I figured I’d put it up there now so we wouldn’t disturb her later.”
The lie was easy enough, and Mama didn’t look at me twice as she worked on the dishes, so I didn’t linger. As if nothing was different from the dozens of other nights I’d done this particular chore, I walked through the dining room into the hall, carrying the small pitcher and averting my eyes from the lingering guests.
I felt, more than saw, Cole’s gaze on me, but I knew better than to look in his direction. Mr. Whitehurst was there too, and I didn’t want to give him any chance to read the emotions I might have carried on my face. Because my heart thumped heavily in my chest as I climbed the stairs.
Cool air settled on my arms and back as the shadows upstairs swallowed me. Ava had left her bedroom light on, but otherwise, the second floor was dark. I tiptoed quickly down the hall that led to the master suite and opened the door onto darkness.
I debated for a second about leaving the door opened or closed. If Mr. Whitehurst came up and found me in his bedroom, which would be worse? I quickly decided that leaving the door open would at least give me the advantage of being able to hear his approach, so I left it wide and crossed to the far side of the room.
Switching on Mrs. Abigail’s lamp filled the space with a soft light, and I set down my pitcher on her bedside table. I scanned the room and let out shaky breath. I’d been in here hundreds of times, but that didn’t mean I knew where she kept everything. The walk-in closet, I decided, would be the best place to start.
When I flipped on the light, I spotted her Mediterranean White Vera Bradley bag on the shelf above her hanging clothes. The bag was big enough to fit a few necessities and small enough to go down the laundry chute. I grabbed it. Mrs. Abigail’s dresser was situated under an elaborate shoe rack that really wasn’t a rack at all, but a honeycomb of cubbies. I chose a pair of ballet flats before I started going through her dresser drawers.
Two minutes later, I had a bag stuffed with three pairs of undies, a bra, one nightgown, a turtleneck, a blouse, and two pairs of pants. I moved to the bathroom and thought better of taking her hairbrush and toothbrush. Mr. Whitehurst might notice their absence from the counter.
