“I know you want up there.”
I glanced back at him over my shoulder. “I really do.”
He shook his head. “All right. Let’s go.”
I couldn’t help but to clap happily. I’d been dying to get back to that room. If nothing else, I wanted more of those journals. And hopefully, I wanted to get Harriette to make herself known again.
I rushed up the stairs and he followed me at a much slower pace. Once I got to the bookcase, I noticed it had been protected with plastic against all the sheetrock dust and workers. Slowly, I peeled back the tape to find the acorn lever and the hinge released.
I slipped through the doorway and into the tunnel. It still had a musty smell, but it was more like old wood this time instead of a couple decades of dust.
A light came from behind me. “You’re not going to be able to get in.”
“I just want to try.”
He sighed. “All right. Go on.” He kept close to me as we headed down the tunnel.
I turned at the bend, shifting away from the tower room and continued down the dim passageway to the secret room. The air chilled a bit, or maybe it was my own overactive imagination. I felt around for the lever to open the doorway.
Nothing happened.
“See? No one has been able to get in. I can’t even get the inspector in there. He checked out the tunnel and said it was safe, at the very least.”
I pressed my hand to the wood. It was cooler. I was sure of it. “Can I come in, Harriette? I just want to see your room. Maybe you’ll let me have another journal?”
Nolan stood right behind me. “Hellcat, it won’t—”
The door shifted, and my heart raced. “C’mon, c’mon.” I reached for the lever again and this time, the door opened. “Thank you!” I pushed my way through and before Nolan could follow me, it slammed shut.
“Hellcat!” He pounded on the doorway. “Hey!”
I turned around. “Nolan?” I felt around for the latch on this side, but it wouldn’t budge. “Shoot.”
“Are you okay?” he shouted through the bookcase.
“I’m fine. It’s fine in here. Quiet.” I looked around. All the books that had been tossed around before were back on their shelves. The light streamed through the stained glass and a clear beam shone right on the leather couch. “I’m just going to look around for a minute.”
“Dammit, Dahlia.”
“It’s fine. I’m not in any danger.”
I crept down the stairs to the chair. I smoothed my hand over the back. It was as warm as if someone has been sitting in it. “Harriette? I read the diary you left me. I’m so sorry you were so sad for so long.”
A breeze came up and made the skirt of my dress flutter around my knees. The chair moved a little closer to the bookcase.
“Do you want me to sit?”
The breeze came up again.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I sat down and the series of journals was exactly at my eyeline. “Did you want to show me something?”
I felt something cold on my shoulder, then a book moved forward. Not a journal this time, but another leather-bound book. I pulled it out and looked at the cover. “Maternity and Motherhood,” I read aloud. The book opened on my lap and pages started fluttering. “What are you trying to tell me?”
Suddenly, the book flattened open. Early signs of pregnancy.
My stomach dropped. It was a very old book, but the initial signs of pregnancy had been the same for a zillion years. Fatigue, increased trips to the water room, indigestion, breast tenderness.
“What are you trying to tell me? I know you had many pregnancies that failed.”
The book flew to the floor and another book slid forward. This time, one of her journals. I pulled it forward and it opened to a page.
“I knew the signs,” I read aloud, “I was so afraid to let myself feel the joy. So very afraid it would be snatched away from me, but I knew. I just knew there was a babe in my womb.”
My eyes misted.
“Hellcat!”
I ignored him as I kept reading. The early pregnancy signs again.
Automatically, I started counting in my head.
Wait.
No.
No, absolutely not.
I patted my pocket for my phone and pulled it out. With shaking fingers, I checked my period tracker app. “Seven weeks...”
