“If you need anything, you call me, okay? I don’t like the thought of you being out here alone after that terrible accident last night. I told your aunt you should’ve stayed in the inn so I could keep an eye on you, but she said you’re the independent type.”
“She’s right,” Bailey admitted with a slight smile. “And besides,” she added with a gesture toward Bran, “I’m not exactly alone.”
Elva lifted a questioning eyebrow. “What do you mean?” she asked, looking straight at Bran. “Do you have company? Someone in the other room? I’d have brought two slices of cake if I’d known.”
Bailey felt as though the world suddenly tilted. What in the world was going on? Elva was looking at Bran— looking through Bran, as though—
As though she didn’t even see him.
“Bailey?” Elva asked in concern. “Honey, you’ve gone pale. Are you sure you aren’t in pain? Maybe you’d better take one of those pills and lie down. I have to get ready for the dinner customers, but I can send Millie out to sit with you. Or better yet, come inside with me. “You don’t need to be out here by yourself when you’re feeling so poorly.”
By yourself.
Bailey stared helplessly at Bran, silently begging for an explanation.
“She can’t see me,” he said quietly. “She won’t hear me, either.”
Bailey swiveled her eyes toward the older woman. “You—you don’t hear anything?”
Elva was beginning to look genuinely concerned. “Like what?”
Bailey couldn’t answer.
“I’d better call the doctor,” Elva said. “I think mayb
e you have a concussion, after all. Sit down, honey, and I’ll—”
“No.” Bailey held up a shaking hand. “No, Elva, really. I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor.”
“But—”
“Please,” Bailey whispered. “I just need to be—to be alone for a few minutes, if you don’t mind. I don’t mean to worry you, and I appreciate your concern, but there are…things I need to do.”
Elva looked torn between concern for Bailey and the need to go back to work. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ll be in later for dinner. If I need anything in the meantime, I only have to pick up the phone.”
“Okay, then. Have it your way.” Elva glanced furtively in Bran’s direction, as though wondering what Bailey found so fascinating there. “Uh—enjoy your cake, Bailey.”
“Thank you, Elva.” Bailey walked her to the door, resisting an impulse to put a hand on the woman’s arm to hurry her on her way. She closed the door behind Elva, and sagged bonelessly against it, needing just a moment to collect herself.
She drew a deep breath for courage, and then turned to demand some answers.
Only Bran wasn’t there.
The room was empty.
Hauntingly empty.
“NO!”
Bran threw out his hands, but his fingers closed around cold, barrenmist. The change had been so fast this time, so jarringly abrupt that he’d had no chance to prepare himself, no time to say goodbye. One moment he’d been with Bailey, seeing the blank, hurt confusion in her eyes, the next moment he’d been snatched back to the place he despised so vehemently.
“No, damn it!” he shouted, his voice no more than a whisper in the gray emptiness surrounding him. “Not now. I can’t leave her like this! I have to explain.”
No one answered his impassioned plea.
No one was there to hear him.