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“Isabel!” Patsy’s voice crackled in my ear. “What the hell? Why don’t you answer your phone anymore? I’ve been calling for hours! I finally had to call your office and get this number from a secretary.”
“I’m sorry, I turned it off,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Papa,” Patsy said.
Blood roared in my ears, and I felt faint, but I forced myself to concentrate, to listen to what Patsy was saying.
“He’s been awful since you left, and it’s just gotten worse. He kept saying things that didn’t make sense, we couldn’t get him to do anything, he wouldn’t listen to us. He kept asking for Mama, or for you. He only ever listened to you.” Patsy’s voice held a note of accusation.
“Is that Isabel?” Andrea’s voice sounded in the background. “Tell her to get her ass back here and fix this mess.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Patsy snapped.
“Patsy, what happened?” I interrupted before a full-on argument could develop. “Is Papa okay?”
“He wouldn’t eat, he wouldn’t sleep, we thought he was going to hurt himself. We didn’t have a choice, we had to do it.”
“Do what, Patsy?” I asked, my patience wearing thin. Dimly, I noticed that Isiah and Bernard had joined us, and the six men of the staff had gathered around me and were watching me, concern evident on their faces.
“He’s in the hospital. We had him committed.”
I felt the color drain from my face. Immediately, Alexandre stepped forward, as if afraid I might faint, but I shook my head, wordlessly indicating that I was okay. “You did what? Patsy, how could you?”
“What were we supposed to do?” Patsy said, a whine in her voice. If she had been with me, I could have throttled her. “He wouldn’t listen to us, and you weren’t here. You left, and he just went crazy! Well, crazier,” she amended. “You have to come back, Isabel. You have to fix this.”
Closing my eyes, I counted to ten in my head. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I said. Around me, the men exchanged glances with each other. “Who’s with him right now?”
Silence.
“Patsy? Is anyone with Papa at the hospital?”
“We all have our own lives, Isabel,” Patsy said, defensiveness creeping into her tone.
I closed my eyes again. “Jesus Christ. Okay, Patsy, I’m coming home. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
“Great,” Patsy said, and I sensed that she was already losing interest, having passed off her problem on to me. Not for the first time, I wondered how we could possibly be related.
I hung up, heart racing. I needed to go. I needed to pack. In a daze, I returned to my room, the men trailing after me. “Isabel?” Étienne asked. “What’s wrong? Why do you have to go home?”
“It’s my father,” I said, struggling to reach the suitcase I’d stored on the top shelf of my closet. Gently, Alexandre shifted me aside and retrieved it for me. “He’s not well. I need to go home. I need to take care of him.”
“Isabel.” Vincent’s voice cut through the ringing in my ears, bringing me a stop as I whirled through the room, collecting my belongings haphazardly. “Slow down. Sit. Tell us what happened. We’re all worried about you.”
My mind screamed that I didn’t have time, but I obeyed Vincent’s instructions, perching myself on the very edge of the bed. “My father’s mind hasn’t been all there since my mother died. I usually take care of him, but I thought my siblings would take care of him while I was gone. My sister says he’s gotten worse, he’s in the hospital. She had him committed.”
Bernard sat beside me, taking my hand in his. “I’m so sorry, Isabel,” he said. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll help any way we can.”
Étienne stepped forward. “Take some deep breaths. We’ll help you pack. You get dressed. We’re all coming with you.” The other men nodded in agreement, faces grim.
“Go with her where?” a voice asked from the doorway.
We all turned to find Jacques in the door, his face impassive.
“Isabel’s father isn’t well,” Étienne explained. “She needs to go to him. I was just telling her that she didn’t have to go alone, that we would all go with her.”
“No,” Jacques said simply.
Étienne’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” he asked, voice tight.
“Isabel can go, that’s her right. But I can’t allow the rest of you to go.”
“Can’t allow...Jacques —” Étienne took a step forward, and for one heartstopping moment, I thought he might hit Jacques. Benard, perhaps fearing the same, stepped between them, hands lifted in a placating manner.
“If we can just talk about this…” he began, but Jacques cut him off.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Jacques said. “I’m not leaving the castle, and I need you here, with me.”
The men were angry now, talking over each other, and I was terrified it might come to blows. “Stop it!” I said, raising my voice to be heard over the din.
