Page 23 of Welcome to Gothic
Roy slipped his hand into hers. “Wendy?”
She looked around, realized she had gone quiet, and rubbed her palms together in overacted anticipation. “Are we ready?”
The kids cheered again.
Ariel moved to Wendy’s side and in an undertone said, “This is going to make you smile like you mean it.”
“I’m happy!” Wendy snapped, then felt like a fool for reacting so vehemently.
“I can tell.” Ariel put an arm around her. “Look at what has arrived.”
“What?” Wendy barely breathed the word. She didn’t hope. She couldn’t imagine.
“Thatseriously ripped smoky beast.”
Wendy knew,knew, that the fog had not returned and brought a lost soul back from the dead. She didn’t believe in currents and legends. She didn’t even believe in head injuries that caused hallucinations so complete she could fall in love and break her heart all in one imaginary night.
But Ariel forcibly turned her toward the clothing side of the shop.
And Wendy saw him.Him.
Her lost love. The man who had caught her, kissed her, helped her, proved to be a hero and died because he wouldn’t allow a bad man to hurt a small child... and because she wasn’t quick enough to save him.
Hugh. Hugh stood framed in the arched entrance.
Chapter Twelve
Wendy’s heart leaped with joy, but before she could call his name, Roy yelled, “Uncle Vince!” and raced over to hug him around the waist.
The man looked down at his nephew and ruffled his hair. “How you doing, buddy?”
Wait a minute.The leap of Wendy’s heart became cold, dark suspicion. Was this some kind of cruel joke?
She whipped around and stared balefully at Minnie and Mabel.
Both women were perched on their stools, mouths open, staring at Hugh in recognition and confusion. Minnie turned to Mabel, and Wendy clearly heard, “What in the blue blazes? Who is he?”
Mabel looked at Wendy, shook her head in helpless amazement and mouthed,Wewould never do anything to hurt you.
Roy’s voice dragged Wendy back to this time, this place, this situation. “Uncle Vince, we’re going to play a game. Will you be my parent? Please? Bendy Wendy volunteered, but she likes to boss people around more.”
“Bendy Wendy?” Vince laughed, looked up—and zeroed in on Wendy’s face.
His gaze clung. And clung.
Wendy couldn’t breathe. She was on the verge of tears. She wanted to run to him. To Hugh, who was here, now. Hugh, with a different name and a different attire. Hugh, looking fashionably scruffy in faded jeans, a white T-shirt and running shoes. Yet he wasexactlythe same; same height, same build, same smile, same haircut, same eyes that looked into her soul and saw the woman she was and longed to be.
She scrambled in her mind for an explanation.
She must have seen him somewhere, maybe around town, and her subconscious had made up a fantasy. Although how a man who looked like a 1940s movie star could be walking and talking and—
Suddenly her brain and ears recognized the quiet in the bookshop. Her eyes saw the way everyone, even the clueless children, looked between her and Hugh.
No, not Hugh. His name wasVince.
Yet this scene was a rerun: the last time, the actors and dancers backstage in Maeve Lindholm’s theater had watched them exactly like this... in 1940.
Self-preservation made Wendy break into a stream of babble. “Like to boss people around? Me? Ha ha, you’re making a joke. Of course your uncle is welcome to join our game if you want him to. Vince... Vince? Come and stand over here by the other parents and I’ll explain what you’re supposed to do. It’s really easy, I promise.”
