Page 9 of Hidden Raphael
"Can't wait to see the kitchen," Kimberly said, even though every cell in her body screamed that she shouldn't get too comfortable here. Goose bumps formed on her skin. Her breath hitched and she exhaled to calm down. "Part of me pictures this medieval kitchen with a black stove and charcoal to start the flames."
"Wood gave the food flavor." Meg stared ahead of her. Her pale face didn’t crack a smile. Kimberly vowed to find common ground despite how her insides quaked.
She chewed on her lower lip and stared at the tapestries on the walls. "You clean this whole place?"
Meg nodded, and a sliver of a smile reached her lips. "Every day for eternity, it seems."
Progress.Meg had almost smiled. Kimberly kept her fingers crossed. "This place is so clean. I'm impressed. How do you do this by yourself?"
Meg shrugged. "Someone has to, and cleaning is my job. This here is the dining hall, where you serve Master Raphael."
"We all don't eat together?" Kimberly bit her lip to stop it from shaking. The man in the portrait would slay her alive for saying that. Meg’s green eyes sent another shiver down Kimberly's spine. She must have crossed the line. She stepped away and hugged her waist. "Never mind. Sometimes I speak without thinking. Do you think Raphael will investigate what happened to the plane?"
Meg walked back into the hall, and Kimberly followed. "He's likely already there,” the old woman said. “He stormed out of the house after he spoke to you. I thought you said something to him."
"No. He told me how he has no internet, phone, or a boat. And he asked me questions about Eileen and Ali, but I didn't say anything to upset him." She stalled a bit, but then held her chin up. "He upset me far more. I already know I’m trapped."
"I doubt Master Raphael intends to upset you." Meg walked forward and pointed toward a staircase. "I suppose he'll tell you at dinner, then."
"If you don't eat with him, I won't." Kimberly crossed her arms then let them fall to her side until she realized how rigid her muscles became. "What if the pilot gets to Raphael first?"
The pilot. Kimberly's brain hurt. Something or someone else had happened. She couldn't remember or pinpoint what, but there was some other vital thing she ought to do. She shook her head. What had she forgotten?
Meg interrupted. "Mr. Raphael has too much responsibility to go around fighting with men who wish to kill you."
Kimberly jerked forward. "That's rude."
Meg shrugged. "Master Raphael is needed here." She rolled her shoulders back. "However, he is from strong stock, and he has the blood of warriors in his veins. He can take care of himself. I still see him as the boy I watched over most of his life."
Her headache dissipated. She stared at the doors, but stood still. "He was a marine? I hope the pilot is no longer a threat to me or anyone."
Meg's white face became paler, but then she stared at the ground. "These are things you should discuss with him, miss. He said you were a guest in this house, and it's polite for you to eat with him."
"I've never been good about what Ishoulddo." She sighed. Which was how she'd screwed up her relationship with her family. "Okay, but Meg, you should eat with us too."
Meg shook her head. "Master Raphael and I don't need to share a meal in order to talk. I am here for him, even if he doesn't always notice."
Noticemeant he didn’t always, and she didn’t want to think about any psychological implication that comment meant. She hadn't seen enough movies or read enough books to even offer an opinion. She took a step toward the stairs to go down, but she hesitated. "Is this place an exact castle made the same as medieval days, or a recreation?"
"It was a keep over in Scotland, but two hundred years ago the family wanted more modern adaptations. The lights run on generators that have to last the entire winter. Master Raphael prefers the power to go into the heating system, as winters are cold outside." Meg stared at Kimberly's candelabrum for a moment, and it seemed that the flame made part of Meg's face vanish. Kimberly peered closer as Meg finished, "A few centuries ago, one of Master Raphael's ancestors shipped it here piece by piece to rebuild the Murphy home in the New World."
Kimberly lifted her face. "So why does a man like Raphael choose to lock himself away?"
"You'll have to ask him, miss." Meg turned to go. "I have lots to do, miss."
She called out to Meg's back, "Thank you for everything."
She stared at the retreating figure for a while then a loud swish of outside wind knocked her back to her senses.
Storms weren't good here. Weren't islands near continents barrier places not meant for human existence?
No matter. She glanced at the staircase, and how the darkness at the bottom was thick and formidable. Guess the hired help weren't treated to luxury. Her skin grew a few goose bumps, but she held on to the banister and proceeded down.
A swoosh of wind sounded like a cry.
She stilled. Then she laughed and shook her head a bit. She sucked in her stomach then continued. No wonder people thought this place was haunted.
She squared her shoulders and marched to the bottom.
