Page 90 of A Heart So Haunted
A long, pained pause. “Yes, Lan. I believe he did.”
Neither of us needed to say any more. He was progressing. And we still didn’t know why.
I sat in the breakfast nook, laptop open, when my phone vibrated. The sun had already started to set, sending a chill through the open windows despite the humidity that lingered from earlier in the day.
Hadrian lurked in the living room since I’d turned the lights off while there was still daylight left.
He jerked when my phone buzzed across the table. Even from where I sat, I saw his pupils contract, then dilate in what I knew was irritation.
“Why does it make such a noise?”
I checked the caller ID. An unknown number, but it wasn’t listed as spam. “It means someone is calling me.”
“Such tedious things.” He turned away. His shoulders bunched closer to his neck, his top lip curled.
Emma or Sayer were the only ones that would call after five—clients usually emailed, but not always. I swiped to answer, just in case.
“Hello?”
“Landry?”
“This is she.” I closed my laptop and straightened. Hadrian’s head tilted just so, enough to tell me he could probably hear the person on the other end.
“It’s Irene. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you sooner—I just—there were a lot of things I wanted to get together for you. Do you have a minute?”
My eyes widened. I waved Hadrian closer, mouthing,Come here. She’d gotten my email—she hadn’t ghosted me. I wiggled closer to the edge of my seat and pulled a second chair up against my own, then pointed for him to sit down.
He eyed the chair. Wrinkled his nose.
“Sit!” I whispered. Then, to the phone, “Yes, of course I’ve got time. I’m so glad you called, I was worried it would seem too—forward.”Or creepy, I thought.
A rumble, close to a growl, came from his chest as he glared at the phone, similar to the disgust I’d seen when he mentioned the lightbulbs in the living room.
All right. Maybe he hated technology completely.
Still, I put the phone on speaker so he could listen, laid it flat on the table, and grabbed a notepad and pen from my purse. Writing byhand always felt faster than typing, and the last thing I needed to do was forget anything.
“If anyone has to apologize, it’s me,” she started. Her voice crackled, sharp, on the line, making it echo through the first floor. Hadrian’s lips curled back, so I turned the volume down. “I didn’t mean to leave you that note. I thought Cadence wasn’t good with texting, so I left her a note one morning when I was couriering books from the Stetson library to the Hemlock branch. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m assuming you saw it?”
My mind whirred, trying to catch up, as I sat back down. Hadrian’s arm brushed mine. We sat close, his thigh to my knee, my elbow near his. “What note?”
A nervous sigh. “I actually found something three months ago. On those symbols she’d asked me about.”
My eyes brightened. Then—a sinking in my stomach. She’d found something. I should be happy. This was what Hadrian wanted, what I’d agreed to.
“You did?”
I replayed my memories—over and over. A note.
It hit me like a far, distant wave breaking before shore. One of the women dropping off a casserole had found it on the porch and gave it to me the morning of the funeral. I hadn’t even stayed a night in Harthwait yet. The house had been empty from Aunt Cadence’s death until Sayer helped me move in after the funeral. Of course no one would have seen the note—and there was no telling how long Irene waited for my aunt to respond, only to later find out she’d died.
“I did,” Irene assured me. “I’d been digging in my free time after Cadence asked me about it, but she hadn’t responded to my calls, so I left a note one morning, and—anyway, I think I found something, but it might not mean much.” A hesitant sigh. “Or be what you’re looking for. I just texted you the file.”
Right on cue, my phone vibrated. Hadrian leaned away, unsure.
My finger shook as I tapped the file.
“A woman brought a boxes of journals she’d found from her adopted grandmother. These were in there. They almost match what you sent me.”
