Return to Summerhouse (The Summerhouse 2)

“He’s always done that,” Amy said. “I’ve seen him when he thinks no one’s looking.”

“Ah, but there was something else.”

“Will you stop teasing me and tell me what you saw?”

“I think not. It would shock you too much.”

“Shock me?” Amy said. “Tristan, if you know something bad about Russell, I think you should tell me. Zoë is just a girl and she’s been through some really bad things in her life. I need to protect her.”

“From Russell?” he asked. “He is a good man.”

She bent toward him. “You don’t know about these things like I do. I watch Law & Order SVU all the time and people—”

He was looking at her with curiosity. “You say the most unusual things. Why don’t you tell me what you have seen?”

“I’m not going to indulge your prurient interests. Now tell me what you know that Russell is doing to Zoë.”

“What the man is doing to her?”

“Tristan!” she said.

“Look in my coat pocket and you will see.”

She picked up his coat and looked in the two outside pockets but found nothing. In the inside pocket was what felt like a piece of single-ply cardboard. She pulled it out and looked at it. It was a sketch of a muscular man, bending slightly, one leg forward. It was Russell and he was nude and smiling at the artist in a way that left no doubt as to what was in his mind.

After a moment’s shock, Amy laughed. When Tristan reached for the card, she pulled back. “Oh no you don’t. This is mine!” She set the card on the far side of the blanket, then stretched out beside him, two feet of space between them. “And here I’ve been worried about her.”

“There were other pictures in his room.”

“Let me guess. Pictures of Zoë. Starkers.”

“If you mean nude, yes. She certainly is an attractive young woman.”

Amy looked up at the sky that was fading in light. “So Faith has William, and Zoë has Russell.”

“I do hope your Faith does not think she has my uncle. He has always had a wandering eye. He could have had any of many women for a wife, but he could not bear to think that he would have to stay with just one woman.”

“Like you,” Amy said.

“Me? I—!”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not faithful. I meant that you could have any number of women for a wife.”

He moved his hand out to take hers. “Amy, I do not want other women. I want—”

“Tristan, I can’t,” she said, turning her head toward him, but she didn’t move her body closer.

His hand went up to her wrist.

“Please don’t,” she said, her eyes beseeching. “There are things about me that you don’t know.”

“Then tell me!” he said as he sat up abruptly. “Tell me and I will listen to everything you have to say.”

Amy didn’t sit up, nor did she let his anger upset her. “You wouldn’t believe me. You couldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Amy lifted up on her elbows. She was very tired. She couldn’t help it but she felt as though she were alone. Faith and Zoë had come with her, true, but it was as though they had abandoned her. She’d wanted them to help her guard Tristan, but they hadn’t. Faith had moved out of the house after only one night. It was true that Tristan’s uncle would probably have died without Faith’s interference, but there was a part of Amy that wanted to scream that they’d been returned to the past to save Tristan. They hadn’t been sent back in time to help an affable, philandering uncle who would probably never marry, never leave any mark on the world. Amy felt sure that Tristan’s life would mean something to her family, especially to Stephen, and maybe even to the world.