Page 64 of The Lost Hours
Tucker’s arm tensed under Helen’s hand. “To go with the empty living room wall, I suppose.”
George stopped and Helen realized they’d reached the top of the steps. She listened as Piper stuck the key in the lock, opened the door, and stepped inside. Her footsteps clicked across wood floors.
George sounded surprised. “She told you about that?”
There was a short pause before Tucker answered. “Yeah. She did. Her grandfather was a real piece of work.”
“He loved her, though. In the only way he knew how. My grandfather was a good friend to both of her grandparents. He said Jackson Mercer was a tough guy to get to know, but his one soft spot was for his granddaughter.”
“Are y’all going to stand outside all day or do you think you want to come in?” Piper’s voice carried from inside the house.
The three of them wouldn’t fit through the door at the same time and Helen was amused that George resisted relinquishing his grip, making Tucker step back. George escorted her across the threshold, careful to watch her footing, then led her into the house.
“Miss Gibbons, your green dress matches the shade of your eyes exactly, and I have a feeling that’s no accident. I had an aunt who lost her sight when she was only in her forties. She’d been a very attractive woman, too, who liked to dress, and she saw no reason to quit just because she could no longer see. And she taught me a very important lesson.”
“And what was that, Mr. Baker?” Helen asked, enjoying the sound of his voice.
“That a blind woman sees a lot more than you think. And that my aunt knew just where to swing her purse when I accidentally swore in her presence. The woman never missed.”
Helen laughed, remembering something Malily had read from her scrapbook, something about dancing with Charlie and how it made her feel breathless, as if she’d found a little bit of extraordinary. She wondered if she was feeling a little of that now.
“Please call me Helen.”
“Only if you call me George.”
Tucker touched her arm. “Sorry to interrupt, but Piper’s showing us up to the attic. The stairs are steep, so hang on to my arm.”
She allowed Tucker to lead her up the stairs, wishing George would say something again so she could listen to his voice. The house smelled old and musty, the scents of oil soap and dust saturating the air. The stairs creaked like an old woman, and Helen wanted to ask Piper to open up all the windows to let out the sad, stale air. Tucker described everything to her as they passed rooms down a narrow hallway, but he didn’t need to. She could picture the antique furniture, the polished hardwood floors, the outdated upholstery and flowery curtains. It made sense to her that Piper had only ever considered this house to be a place to sleep; her life had occurred far beyond these walls.
Tucker made her climb in front of him when they reached the attic stairs because they were steeper and narrower, and she wondered if he was thinking of her safety or merely forcing a distance between her and George.
She knew they’d reached the attic from the wall of heat that seemed to slam into them as they stepped through the threshold.
“Hang on. I’ll open the windows,” Piper said, her footsteps moving to the opposite side of the room.
“You might want to consider putting air-conditioning up here, Earlene, especially if you plan to continue using it as storage. All your ribbons and trophies are up here and I’m sure you don’t want those to be ruined by the heat and humidity,” George said as he managed to move between Helen and Tucker.
Tucker walked away. “Pretty impressive collection, Piper.” Helen heard a cabinet door being tugged open. “Nice cover photo of you onEventingmagazine.” He cleared his throat. “ ‘Piper Mills wins Eventing’s greatest prize, the Rolex Grand Slam,’ ” he read out loud.
George turned to Helen. “That’s consecutive wins at Kentucky, Badminton, and Burghley. She was the first person to ever do that.”
“They expected Fitz and me to do it again in two thousand four and make the Olympic team,” Piper said.
“But you had your accident,” Tucker said softly.
“Yeah. At the Kentucky Rolex Three-Day, during the cross-country portion. I made a stupid mistake.” Piper’s voice was lighter somehow, as if the burden of loss and regret had at least packed its bags although not completely left. She walked across the attic and Helen heard the cabinet door shut with a final thud.
“It’s hard to believe that I’ve managed to have such an accomplished athlete give beginner lessons to my daughters.” Tucker’s tone was light, but couldn’t disguise the fact that he hadn’t completely forgiven Piper yet.
“You didn’t mention that, Earlene. It’s hard to imagine that you’d voluntarily go anywhere near a horse,” said George.
Helen listened as Piper walked around the perimeter of the room, opening windows to create a cross-breeze. Warm air blew over Helen’s face, and she turned to catch the breeze head-on.
“It’s . . . complicated. And I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She banged on a window and it opened, creating a strong movement of air. “George, let’s show Helen and Tucker what we found.”
George led her forward. “We pushed aside this armoire and found a door behind it. Mr. Morton, her attorney, gave Piper a key after her grandfather died. He’d instructed Mr. Morton to deliver it to Piper following his death. I guess her grandfather didn’t want to have to answer any of her questions.”
“Or maybe he didn’t know the answers,” Tucker said as he followed them through the doorway and into the airless attic room. “He might have been doing just what his wife had asked him to do.”
