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Katrina happily sprang up out of her chair, following Dave down to the truck.
“Come back tomorrow,” Maggie whispered. “It will just be us.”
As Dave pulled the truck away from the cottage, Katrina became emotional and Dave, sensing something was up, grabbed her hand.
“What’s going on, sweetheart?”
“Besides the awful rape story? I need to stop letting every comment that is said about the baby get to me. Rose said something about his eyes. It was just unnecessary.”
“What did she say?”
Katrina told him the conversation and saw the telltale tic in his jaw.
“Yeah, Rose was full of shit all around this afternoon. What do you make of the story about my mother?”
“I don’t know if I believe it,” Katrina said. “You should probably speak to your father alone, away from Rose.”
“I wonder if my dad was trying to protect us. Or my mother’s image, and that’s why he didn’t try to kill Val Amotte when he returned to Cypress Cove.”
“Maybe. Maybe he didn’t want to stir the pot again,” Katrina said.
The baby had fallen asleep during the ride. The revelations of the afternoon swirled through their minds.
“First Amber at the coffee shop, then Rose’s faux pas, then the rape story. I’ve about had all I can take.”
“Me, too,” Dave replied, pulling off the dirt road onto Main Street.
Chapter 9
They arrived at Creole Cottage and all discussion stopped as they tried to get inside as quickly as possible; outside the cottage was malevolent and inside was safety.
“Can you manage the stroller? I need to pump while he’s sleeping.”
“Go. I’ll meet you on the terrace.”
Trying not to run with the baby in her arms, it was urgent she get inside, to the serenity of Creole Cottage. Like she’d been pricked with a pin, stepping into the coolness and bright interior, all the exhaustion and irritation and hurt feelings left her body in a rush. Rose needed her compassion. Katrina could do that for Rose and for Maggie.
With a smile on her face, she walked through the beautiful rooms to her bedroom, placing the baby in his little bed. He stretched like newborns will do, scrunching up his fists, raising his eyebrows, pulling his knees up to his chest; he twisted and squirmed and blasted out a screech.
“Okay, little one, time to have a diaper change and a drink.”
After he was dry, she put him to the breast and he nursed without issue. Out in the main rooms, Dave took a call from work while he put things away. She could hear him advising and directing, and she hoped it wasn’t an emergency he would have to attend to.
The baby fell asleep, satiated, and she returned him to his crib.
She grabbed the bag containing the breast pump and before heading out to the terrace, a bottle of wine from the kitchen. She was going to pump before the wine got into her system. The first baby bottle was nearly full of milk when Dave finally joined her, clutching an open bottle of beer in his hand. He sat down next to her and lifted the hooter hider. “Machine or baby?” he asked, teasing her.
“Machine. Was that work on the phone?”
“It was work. There was a near drowning and he wanted to know what forms to fill out.”
“Oh, that’s terrible. I’m glad it wasn’t a drowning.” She took a deep breath. Something had changed the minute she stepped into the cottage. “Dave, did you feel it when we got home?”
“The transformation? Yes. There is no denying it. The cottage is good for us. I was so sad about my mother, and now all I feel is hope that now that her secret is out, something good will come of it.”
“I wish I could pinpoint exactly what causes it. What is it?”
“It’s haunted, but in a good way,” he said, leaning way over to kiss her. He drank half the bottle of beer in one swallow. He opened his eyes wide and made a spooky wail. “Wooooo!”
