Page 63 of If The Fates Allow
Noah’s head snapped up, and Willa watched in horror as her mother burst into a fit of giggles. “Yes, Dr. Anderson. He used Wilhelmina’s condition as an excuse for his inability to pay, and the banks ate it up every time, writing off the money owed as charity.”
“How did he do it?” Noah’s hands fisted at his side, looking ready to murder Stephen Fairweather all over again. “How did the bastard poison her?”
“On the far side of the mill, there are manchineel trees,” Cal said, using his shovel’s handle to point in the direction of the inlet. “They’re deadly, and ourfatherwould take a drop or two of the fruit’s juice and sneak it into Willa’s food.”
“Are you familiar with the little apple of death, Doctor?” Bonnie hedged up behind him as she spoke. “Every part of it is toxic, and when ingested, it can cause—”
“Swelling, blistering…” Noah’s brows snapped together as he thought it all through. “I’m not sure what else.” He glanced up at Cal. “And the only reason I know this is becauseyoukept asking me about them when I came to visit Beau. I was intrigued and researched the plant.”
“And what happens to the body when it swells and blisters repeatedly?” Bonnie pressed. “What happens when a little girl who is still growing gets some of that juice in her body over and over again? Not enough to kill, mind you, but enough to cause damage.”
“Scarring.” Noah turned to Willa, their gazes connecting. It grounded her, keeping her from floating off into some surreal unknown where none of this was true. “The throat is sensitive, and if repeated ingestion of the fruit’s juice occurred, it would cause scarring and a narrowing of the esophagus. Enough so that any time there was a buildup of mucus, the condition would eventually progress into a type of acquired asthma. Or it would appear to be asthma.”
Willa didn’t think she could hear anymore. “Noah?”
He didn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the ground while his mind worked through the madness. “I was told Willa choked on her food as a child. Is this correct?” He didn’t wait for them to answer. “If she did, it was likely because of the fruit’s poison. She could have aspirated on a piece and—”
“Our grandfather had a mistress, and when he ended things, the woman wouldn’t let him go,” Cal cut him off, impatient as ever. “According to what my father said, the old man poisoned her slowly with manchineel juice—just a drop or two every so often. He was hoping to make her sick, and it worked, causing the woman to have breathing problems.”
“And your father took the information and applied it to Willa.” Noah cursed under his breath. “Giving it so he could have a sick child and keep Bonnie close to watch over her, but then later drive the banks away when the money came due.”
“Are you saying that I might one day not have this?” Willa hated the way she sounded so small and weak, but a tiny flare of hope had sprung in her heart. With Noah in her life, she had learned not to extinguish it at its first hint of warmth and anxiously waited for a reply. “Now that he’s dead, are you saying that I might one day live without this fear that chases me every second of my life?”
The four faces staring back at her sobered all at once, with Noah’s breaking her to the point of tears. “No, Willa. The damage is done,” Noah told her. “In my examinations of you, I’ve found no evidence that would lead me to believe that your condition isn’t a chronic one.”
The dark forest spun in her vision, and the faint singing that had never truly left grew to a deafening level. In an instant, Noah was there, holding her in his arms so she wouldn’t collapse. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t make life better. We’ll go far from here and find a place to make our home.”
“From what we can tell, he stopped giving her the drops of juice when the attacks would come on their own.” Her mother lifted the lantern, her solemn stare filled with remorse. “At least, that’s what Cal learned when he confessed.”
Noah let go of Willa and charged Cal, grabbing handfuls of her brother’s dirt-streaked shirt to slam him back up against a tree. “He confessed that he had hurt her, and you did nothing?”
“We devised a plan!” Cal struggled to get out of Noah’s grip but was unable to. “The old man figured he was done for and that someone would eventually start asking questions about Grace and Tommy. That’s when the drinking started. By the time last Christmas came around, it was at its worst, and he decided to sit me down to explain how to handle the mill should something happen to him. The longer we talked, the more he drank until he confessed his secret. He told me exactly how he kept the creditors away by using Willa’s illness. I was shocked, of course, but listened. When he thought I was buying into his way of thinking, he told me about Bonnie’s baby. Never let anything get in the way of your success, Cal. That’s what he said.”
Noah slammed Cal against the tree, and her brother’s head hit with an awful smack. Before Willa could register what was happening, Bonnie had the gun aimed at the back of Noah’s skull again.
“Calm down, Noah,” Bonnie ordered as if scolding boys and not two grown men preparing to come to blows. “Margaret and I need Cal whole and well for this to work.”
“He smothered his newborn daughter. He killed the man Grace loved and caused her death. He poisoned Willa,” Cal snarled. “All in the name of his success.”
“Success which amounted to a mill that won’t be worth anything in five years’ time,” her mother said with disgust. “And a house in the forest, miles from civilization.”
Willa’s heart fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird. She had seen one once in their garden and marveled at the tiny creature, thinking it beautiful as it flitted from blossom to blossom.
But trapped in her chest, the painful ache of her accelerated heart caused a tightening not unsimilar to an attack, and she reminded herself to breathe through it.
“I love Haven House. I love the conservatory and the library. You made it beautiful. You expanded the place to where it doubled in size so I could have a world of my own,” Willa said quietly, her strength depleting. “He might have made the place a living hell for all of us, but you made that house in the forest a wonderland.”
Her mother turned away again, wiping at her eyes. “Yes, well, had I known we didn’t have the money in the first place to remodel, you would still be living in the dilapidated manor I was brought to on my wedding day.”
“What do you want with us?” Noah demanded, slamming Cal one last time against the tree before releasing him. “Willa needs to rest.”
“Help us bury Stephen.” Bonnie aimed the gun at Noah, who was stalking toward her as she spoke. “The holes have been dug, and everything is prepared, but Cal cannot move the body on his own.”
Noah didn’t hesitate and ripped off his coat. He came over to hand it to Willa. “I don’t want blood on my clothes.” He unbuttoned his shirt next, pulling it from his body for her to hold. The trousers came off finally, and he stood in the cold night air in nothing but his underpants. “Cal, you’ll want to burn your clothes before sunrise.”
“I can do that.” Cal went to their father’s head while Noah went to his feet. “We lift on three.”
Willa watched as they hoisted her father in the air and made their way to the graveyard. She winced when they carried his massive body up the hill, and she was so focused on their progress that she didn’t notice that her mother and Bonnie had moved to stand with her on the path.
