Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance) Page 3

  At thirteen, Fiana was caught between the last moments of childhood and the beckoning call of womanhood. Headstrong and impetuous, Fiana still wore her beauty as though she had no knowledge it existed and no interest in the impact it might have on others, but Arleigh knew that would soon change. Even stubborn Fiana would not be able to stem the passage of time. When womanhood finally captured her, Fiana would become a force of nature.

  Ten-year-old Hannah grounded herself in the world, eager for new experiences and curious about everything. Steadfast and practical, she moved through life with the power of a cleansing rain. A satisfied smile perpetually curled her lips, like she herself was responsible for the beauty she saw around her. The smile echoed the contentment she felt, and she wore it for the world to see.

  Corliss, blossoming like an early bud of spring, had recently turned seven. Her eyes reflected her happiness, and she moved through her young life as though she heard music in the wind. She carried the music with her into the lives of those she touched, sharing her enthusiasm and joy and spreading it to all.

  Would their laughter still echo in the stone cottage, and would their bodies still quiver with the excitement and promise of all life had to offer? Arleigh knew they would be different now that death had visited their home.

  “What have we done to them?” Arleigh asked the dead man on the table. “Danger will come to our island now, and I am the cause.”

  Arleigh continued to sew and ignored the tears that dripped onto the table, leaving a stain of despair. The girls could never be the same. She knew she wouldn’t be. Life had changed for all of them, and she had yet to discover how much or what path they would be forced to take.

  She finished her last few stitches and tied strong knots. Her hands once again roamed across the fabric. Tucked within the fabric offered the only hope she’d once had of a future in this land. Now hope would soon be buried in the earth with Stephen, and every happy moment had disappeared into the past. She couldn’t stay in this place any longer, not when her presence could cause more disaster, not when her fate held what she feared. She would have to find a way to leave the island before they came for her. The people of Jamestown would know what she was. Somehow they always knew. The expanse of the sea had not offered her peace, or sanctuary, or a future. The curse had found her once again. Cameron Flynn had seen to that.

  “’Tis not fair,” she whispered, “to you or to me, but especially not to them. What are we going to do without you, Stephen? What will happen to this family?”

  Arleigh rose and walked to the open window, her hands balled into fists. She slowly tugged at the curtains until the window once again revealed her reflection. She stared at herself, but the woman in the window had no answers for her.

  Arleigh glanced at the form of her dead friend on the table. Stephen had no answers for her, either. She would have to find her own. Looking at the little girls on the floor made her heart ache. She knelt beside Fiana’s sleeping form, gently placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder, and shook. Fiana’s amazing blue eyes fluttered open, instantly alert.

  “’Tis time,” Arleigh said.

  Chapter 3

  The pile of books in his arms smelled musty and old. Ryder Kendall loved that smell more than anything, even the scent of the deep, rich earth of Trinity Island and the waters of the James River that flowed around his home. He breathed in deeply, capturing the book smell and relishing the images that flooded through his mind. Dark rooms filled with leather and wood, high ceilings filled with shadows. Warrens of shelves full of adventures waiting to be discovered, and pages crackling with history, telling tales of people who had come before and lived their lives as vicious undertakings.

  Balancing the tower of books, Ryder used his foot to slam the door of the Jeep and turned toward the sidewalk. He peered around his lopsided stack and sidestepped quickly in the growing darkness of the early evening, nearly colliding with a wooden signpost that marked the entrance to his yard.

  Beware of Witches Beyond This Point

  He laughed and readjusted the weight of his books. He mounted the porch steps, and his laughter died. He stared for a moment at the boxes piled on the wooden planks then put his books down on the porch swing.

  “This can’t be good,” he said to one of the small ghosts hanging from the porch rafters. The smiling ghost caught the breeze of the autumn evening and swayed cheerfully.

  Ryder hunkered down and reluctantly pulled open the lid on the first box. The box held yards and yards of mangled Halloween lights, twisted into unrecognizable lumps of cords and bulbs. He already knew who would be drafted into detangling them. The second box brimmed with black bows and orange ribbons filled with tiny skeletons, dancing in a nightmarish conga line, and mounds of soft, fluffy webs with tiny, plastic spiders caught in their threads. He had seen enough.

  He stood and ran his hands across his face.

  “Christ, they’re planning the Halloween party.”

  Glancing through the gauzy white curtains of the bay window, he saw his sisters hunched over another box on the coffee table. The three young women all had glossy strands of straight ebony hair that flowed around their shoulders with a touching elegance. Their deep sapphire eyes spoke of eternal knowledge, deep emotion, unbound passion. All small, their petite frames hovered around his bulk like darting fireflies. They were a set—the Trinity. He was the outsider. If any doubt lingered he didn’t belong in their world, he had the adoption papers to prove it.

  The Weird Sisters but nothing like those in MacBeth. Oh, no, his sisters held enough beauty between them to twist the heavens into a jealous frenzy. When he envisioned them around their smoking cauldron, he did not see women dressed in black rags flowing around stooped bodies like evil shrouds. He saw girls in tight jeans and tiny t-shirts, young women whose bodies radiated health and sensuality, whose silky black hair fell to their waists, and whose gorgeous faces held pouty lips and flashing sapphire eyes. Witches meant beauty, and beauty meant his sisters.

  Ryder watched them through the window, stealing moments of their lives without their knowledge, getting even with them for every moment they had stolen from him with their little Trinity tricks. The girls looked so happy, and he could hear their laughter. He didn’t know if he had the heart to tell them no, but he would find a way.

  He picked up his stack of books and pushed open the front door. A gust of autumn leaves swept onto the hardwood floor of the foyer and settled into the corners like early Halloween decorations. The girls swiveled toward him, and three bright smiles met him.

  “Someone moving?” he asked, setting his books down on the circular table by the staircase. “Could I be so lucky?”

  Charity laughed and ran toward him. She still wore her uniform from the Trinity High cheerleading squad. She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the living room.

  “What took you so long? School’s been out for hours and hours.”

  “And still I don’t smell dinner cooking.”

  Charity slapped at his arm. “Faith’s ordering pizza.”

  “Faith’s buying pizza? She got a job?” he asked, turning his eyes toward the oldest of the three.

  “Oh, you’re very funny today,” Faith said, moving another box onto the coffee table. “We’ve been busy, and I didn’t have time to cook. Besides, Malcolm’s coming over tonight. We still have a few details to go over before he leaves on assignment.”

  Hope pulled her head out of a box. “You’d think they planned the invasion of Normandy.”

  “Hope knows about the invasion of Normandy?” Ryder asked Charity. “When did this happen?”

  “Oh, you’re right,” Hope said. “He does think he’s funny today. You must have had a good day.”

  “A great day,” Ryder said. “At least it started that way. How it’s going to end is still up in the air.”

  They ignored him as usual. He picked his way through a minefield of boxes, gingerly sidestepping the rolls of crepe paper and black ceramic cats tha
t littered the floor.

  “Anyway,” Hope continued. “It’s a simple wedding and—”

  “Simple!” Faith cried. “Do you have any idea what goes into planning a wedding?”

  Hope frowned at her sister. “Unfortunately, yes. I’m glad for a little Halloween diversion.”

  Ryder dropped into one of the cushioned chairs by the fireplace and let it envelop him in its haven of safety, the only lifeboat he could find in the storm. He surveyed the chaos that had previously been their living room. Once again, the Weird Sisters had managed to forget they had a brother and had barreled through planning and into action.

  They resumed one of their everlasting squabbles. These three lovely girls could turn into banshees at a moment’s notice. This particular ruckus seemed to focus on the color of the bridesmaids’ dresses. Dark hair swung around their shoulders and words tumbled from their mouths. Three sets of hands gestured with their arguments. Their bright blue eyes snapped with an ardor and tenacity that set off the warning bells in his mind. How could such beautiful girls turn into such harpies? Ryder had seen it so many times, that their instantaneous transformation seemed almost natural to him.

  Faith was the worst, the head harpy. Hope and Charity could hold their own in almost any argument, but not against Faith. Faith barreled through each argument in her usual succinct and hard-headed style, and his two youngest sisters ran out of steam. Finally it came to an end when Faith put her small hands on her hips. She wore the Faith expression that clearly defined someone was in charge, and she knew who.

  “Whose wedding is it?” she asked.

  “Yours,” the girls chorused.

  “And who makes the decisions?”

  “You do,” they echoed.

  “Fine, then,” Faith said. “We’re all agreed on the blue dress. Hope, order the pizza. Get the usual. Ask Mr. Money-Bags for his wallet. And, Charity, put those musty books in his study. They’re stinking up the living room, and Mal is coming over.”

  She turned to Ryder with a bright smile and went into the kitchen to set the table.

  * * * *

  They polished off two medium pizzas, loaded with everything, in relative peace and quiet. The argument over dresses, shoes, flowers, food, whatever, had ceased momentarily. Hope rose from the table and began to clear the plates.

  “Honey, sit down for a second,” Ryder said. “I have a couple of things on my mind.”

  Hope lowered herself back into the chair and glanced at her sisters. Charity shrugged, and Faith, never inclined to apologize for anything, offered a small smile.

  “Sorry about the squabble,” Faith said. “I’m a little tense right now. Mal will be gone for awhile, and I want everything to be perfect.”

  Ryder reached across the table and took Faith’s hand.

  “It will be. A spring wedding will be perfect. You will be perfect, and I’m sure the dresses… What color?”

  “Sky blue,” Faith answered.

  “They’ll be perfect, too.”

  “I know everything costs a fortune,” Faith said. “I’m trying to be economical, but the world is conspiring against me. Everything costs so damn much.”

  “I’m not worried about the cost, honey. You order whatever you want. This isn’t about the wedding.”

  Charity leaned forward. “Something wrong at school? Are you in trouble with Mrs. Thorpe? You didn’t get fired, did you?”

  Ryder shook his head. “No, no, everything’s fine. In fact, I’m thinking of a new project we could do in advanced history.”

  Charity moaned. “I’m in advanced history. What torture have you come up with?”

  “Torture is my middle name, but we’ll talk about that later,” Ryder said. “I wanted to talk about the decorations. They’re kind of everywhere. What are you planning?”

  Hope glanced at Faith, who poured coffee.

  “The Halloween party,” Hope said. “It’s a tradition.”

  Ryder sighed and leaned back in his chair. He picked up the cup Faith laid in front of him and took a sip, glancing at his sisters over the rim. The peace had lasted exactly twenty minutes. He would have to be grateful for that much. He felt a headache coming on and suspected it would get a lot worse. No way around it. There would be a fight.

  “Things are different now,” he said. “Don’t you think it’s time we changed the tradition?”

  Faith dropped into the opposite chair and looked at him hard. Ryder tensed, waiting for the storm to begin, but Faith took a sip of her coffee and remained quiet. Christ, this might be worse than he expected. All three girls stared at him, and panic fluttered in his gut because they were too quiet. The Weird Sisters had stared into their cauldron and weren’t pleased. The clock on the kitchen wall counted off the moments he had left. The ticking and tocking drilled into his head. Finally he sighed and plunged ahead, saying the one thing that would start the harpy fury, but he might as well get it over with.

  “I don’t think we should have the party,” Ryder said.

  “We’re having the party,” Faith said. Case closed. It was that simple for Faith. She rose and walked to the sink and began to run the water.

  Ryder glanced at the two younger girls then turned in his seat to face Faith. “Was this your idea?”

  “Kendalls have a Halloween party. It’s what we do. People expect it. It’s how we fit in on this island.”

  “But Mom is gone and now Dad. They held the parties. It was their tradition.”

  “It’s a Trinity tradition, Ryder,” Faith said. “It has nothing to do with Mom or Dad. When one generation is gone, the next continues. Dad was the Keeper, holding the tradition, but it belongs to us.”

  Ryder’s jaw clenched. “Just because I’m not one of the Trinity doesn’t mean I don’t have a say in this.”

  “Don’t pull your I’m-not-part-of-the-Trinity crap on me,” Faith said. “You want me to say it, but I won’t.”

  “Go ahead and say it,” Ryder said. His glance touched on each of them. “I’m not part of this. You have your little Trinity, and in the Kendall family, only the Trinity matters. I’m the outsider. Hell, I’m not even a real Kendall.”

  A small rumbling of anger roared through him, but it had nothing to do with them. Well, maybe a little to do with them.

  “Damn it, Faith,” Ryder said. “I don’t want a party!”

  “Too bad, because there’s going to be one, and you will be there. Think about your costume now, because it’s in a couple of weeks. We’re doing Colonial this year. The girls and I will be the first American Trinity. We already have our costumes.”

  Ryder sighed. He had left the school in a great mood and entered the library with high expectations. Mrs. Cargill, the unofficial town historian, had unlocked volumes of old records from the vault. After grilling him on the care he would take with her treasured documents, she had allowed him to bring them home to scan. He had lists and ledgers, receipts and court records. He had begun to formulate an exciting project for his students, but his good mood had vanished when he saw the boxes. To top it off, the Weird Sisters now stared at him like he’d left his brain at work. An ache drilled through his head and lodged in front of his eyes.

  “Look, girls,” he said gently, “when Dad’s plane went down in June, things changed.”

  “Why?” Faith asked. Why was she so damn belligerent all the time? “Mom and Dad never wanted things to change. They trusted you to make it right. They chose you. Why can’t you make it right?”

  “I’m trying,” Ryder said. “You’re in grad school. Hope’s going to college. Charity’s doing well in classes.”

  Faith’s mouth dropped. “School? Is that what you think makes everything right? We’re going through the motions right now to make them proud, to show them we can go on without them. But do you know what, Ryder? We’re dying inside. I don’t know about you, but the three of us are dying. Hell, we might already be dead for all I know. I know I feel that way.”

  Fuck. Don’t let her start cry
ing. I can’t handle it when she cries.

  He started to rise from his chair, but Faith flung her hand in his direction, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  “We don’t want things to change, Ryder,” Faith continued. “We are still a family. Our family has a Halloween party. We’re going to have it.”

  “We want the party,” Charity said. “I can’t let go of everything, not even for you.”

  She pulled her hair back with her hands and dropped her head to the table, trying to hide her tears. He hadn’t seen Charity cry in over a month, and now it was his fault. He turned to Hope, calm, wise Hope. She would help him talk some sense into them. But Hope, his bastion, his cool sister of reason and common sense, wiped at her own tears. He had lost.

  “We knew you wouldn’t like it,” Hope said. “We know how hard it’s been on you, and we know it’s your house now, but—”

  “It’s our house,” Ryder said. “It belongs to all of us. It’s just in my name.”

  “We know the drill,” Hope said. “The house goes to the Keeper. It’s happened for generations. We don’t mind. It’s tradition, like the Halloween party. We have the party to celebrate that we are Kendalls, to celebrate the first ones. It doesn’t matter that Mom and Dad are gone.”

  “But it’s been only four months, Hope.”

  “Four months, four weeks, it doesn’t matter.”

  “She’s right,” Faith said. “We all miss them, and it’s going to hurt to have the party without either of them, but we’re going to do it, Ryder. We won’t let you throw everything away because we’ve lost them. We have to remember everything. Kendalls remember everything. It’s who we are.”

  “It’s who you are,” Ryder said.

  “Don’t,” Faith snapped.

  Ryder stood up. What good would it do to argue with them? They had made up their minds, and as usual, he’d been outvoted. He looked at their faces—three small, perfect faces that had surrounded him since he could remember. Three girls who held between them every good quality he could imagine. He envied them, and it tore him in two to think he was not part of them, but he loved them.