Page 15 of Never Been Gargoyled
Now these things—her precious possessions—might never be mine.
I sighed and got up. Dusting cloth and spray bottle in hand, I made myself get back to work. But it was hard to clean one piece of furniture after another now. Earlier, I’d paused to grin and admire each one, a touch of happy possession growing deep inside.
An hour or so later, while I was cleaning out the inside of the kitchen cupboards while suds sloshed in the dishwasher, the front door creaked open and boomed shut. Footsteps thudded down the hall and Feydin appeared in the open kitchen doorway.
He stopped, scowling at me on my knees. “What are you doing?”
“Um, cleaning cupboards.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re dirty. Dusty. I swear there are mouse droppings in here, and I’ll have to look online to find out how to sanitize the wood because there’s no way I’m putting food in here if mice have been running around and pooping.”
“There are no mice inside this building.” He sounded scandalized at the thought.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m the house gargoyle. Of course I’m sure.” And he sounded equally appalled at the thought I might not believe him.
“I’ll take your word for it.” Rising, I shoved hair off my face that had come out of my braid. “What did you discover?”
“I spoke with the sheriff. He’s lived here all his life. If Helga had a daughter, she kept the pregnancy and delivery a complete secret.”
Chapter 8
Feydin
“Ithink that’s the point with an illegitimate baby,” Dazy said. “No one knows they’re pregnant. In the olden days, women were sent to special homes where they’d give birth, and the baby would be put up for adoption. The woman would return to her hometown and tell everyone she was touring Europe or caring for a distant relative. Something like that.” Her head tilted. “Did Helga tour Europe about that time?”
“From what I’ve heard, she rarely left town, certainly not long enough to hide a pregnancy, deliver, and give a child away.” I did my best to appear serious. And I was. I was completely serious about this. But why did this woman have to look attractive even when she had dirt on her face, her clothing was mussed, and at least a third of her hair had come out of her braid?
“Feydin?” she asked, striding over and jumping up towave her hand in front of my face. I had no idea what that meant. “Earth to Feydin. You in there?”
“In where?” I growled, ruffling my wings in irritation.
“Inside yourself.”
I gaped at her. “Where else would I be but inside myself?”
Her smile fell, her eyes growing serious. “Do you have silent seizures? I had a friend in high school who had them often. Poor thing. You’d be talking to her, and she’d suddenly start staring blankly. You couldn’t wake her up, though she wasn’t asleep. Her brain was short circuiting. Whenever that happened, I’d make sure she got to the school nurse, who’d call her mom. Her doctor had to keep increasing her meds. She moved away in our senior year, and I lost touch, so I don’t know how she’s doing now.”
“I do not have silent seizures. The sheriff said he’d ask some of the older people in town if they remember Helga disappearing for months about that time or any indication she might’ve been pregnant.”
“It’s okay to admit it if you have silent seizures. I’ll sit you down and watch over you until you come back.”
“I don’t have silent seizures.”
“Hey.” She scowled, but then, I was also scowling. “No need to be touchy about it.”
“I’m not…touchy.” If I growled, she’d say for sure I was touchy, whateverthatmeant. “The sheriff will report to us within forty-eight hours.”
“That’s quick.”
“I insisted on the timeframe.”
“I’m sure you did.” She poked my arm. “Warm. Soft.”
I reeled back from her. “What?”
