Page 34 of One Last Regret

“She played it a few nights ago.”

“Enough,” I say curtly. “We’re all upset. There’s no point in taking that out on each other.”

The children fall silent, but as he turns back toward the tv, I am almost certain that I catch a leer on his face. It reminds me of the smile the ghost of my sister wears the night before, the one present on all of the drawings hanging in Gabriel’s room.

As the movie continues, I find myself watching Gabriel with the same wariness his sister shows.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Dr. Yarrow arrives just after the movie finishes. He’s a kindly, bespectacled man who looks so small and harmless that I’d give myself even odds in a fistfight with him. I realize this is no reason for me to trust him, but I feel somewhat better knowing that the psychologist looks so unassuming.

He introduces himself to me, and after some small talk, he says, “I’ll be some time with them, Miss Wilcox. I’ll need to speak to them separately and together, probably more than once. Then, if you don’t mind, I’ll have to talk to you as well.”

I blink. “To me?”

“Yes. You’ve spent more time around the children than anyone recently. I’ll want your input on the current tragedy and how it’s affecting them.”

I sigh with relief. “Right. Of course.”

He gives me a smile that reminds me of Santa Claus, only much more diminutive. Then he takes the children with him.

While the children talk to him, I walk downstairs. The parlor is empty, and it hits me that I've almost never seen this family outside of the dining room or their own rooms. At least, it seems that way. It's as though the house itself is cursed, and its inhabitants scurry furtively between the only spaces they now are relatively safe.

The sheet music is still in the parlor. I stare at it, almost surprised that it doesn’t burst into flames or begin whispering to me. Instead, it looks only like a regular sheaf of old, yellowing paper with faded handwriting and notation. The piano only looks like a quite beautiful and well-crafted musical instrument.

Philippa has begged me to destroy this piece. She says I’m the only one who can. I see the demon, the woman she mentioned by name as my sister.

How could she know my sister? Forget all the nonsense about voodoo and spirits. Maybe she heard me mention Annie’s name, but after all, I’m here to learn about my sister’s past. I should at least talk to Philippa to determine if she knows something.

I head to the kitchen, hoping to find her there. I do, with Etienne. He’s on his knees in front of her, both hands on her hips, his head pressed against her waist. I’m quite ashamed to admit that my first thought is a very salacious one, and I gasp and turn to leave.

Then I hear him speak, “Please reconsider. We have no one else. My mother is…”

“Your mother is insane,” Philippa says.

Her voice is curt and accusatory. I turn around and see in her eyes that whatever attraction she felt for Etienne is gone. She stares at him, hard-eyed and unpitying. “I’m done, Etienne. I’m done with your family and done with your bullshit. All of you. Your mother, your son, your governess…”

She sees me, and her face pales briefly. Then it hardens again. “Yeah, that’s right,” she says to me. “I’m done withyourbullshit too. You know what you have to do, but you’re not gonna do it because not so deep down, you’re just enjoying the show. Well, I’m not, and I’m leaving.”

She pushes Etienne off of her and I step aside before she can shove me out of the way too. As she passes me, she shoots me a hateful glare, and I have to resist an unexplainable urge to hiss at her. I don’t like that urge. It makes me feel that I might have already lost control of my faculties.

Etienne sighs and straightens. He gives me a tense smile and says, “Well, that’s one of you down. We’ll see how much longer you last.”

“What was that about?” I ask. “I’ve never seen her like that.”

“Neither have I. I suppose it didn’t help that I turned into a fool.” He shakes his head. “Begging a woman to stay on my knees… Julia would have loved to see that.”

“Julia was your wife?” I ask.

“She was. She died when the children were young. She had a wonderful sense of humor, and I have a feeling she would have gotten a kick out of everything that’s happening to us.” Seeing my expression, he clarifies, “That was a joke. Frankly, if she were alive, we’d probably be staying in a motel somewhere in Wyoming while she worked a bartending job to support us.” He laughs, a disturbing and sickly titter. “Maybe that’s what I should do. Could you imagine that? The scion of the Lacroix family pouring whiskey for ranchers and getting my ass slapped by middle-aged women too deep in their cups?”

I don’t quite know that such a career would turn out the way he thinks it would, but I don’t want to do anything to trigger the breakdown he’s close to reaching. I don’t think I can deal with yet another nervous collapse in this house.

He takes a deep breath and asks, “Dr. Yarrow is with the children?”

“Yes.”

He nods. “Good. Maybe he can helpthemmake some sense out of everything.” He looks past me into the parlor and pales a shade. “I need to get them out of this house.”

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