Page 63 of The Seven Rings
“Why did you come in?”
“Clover. That scent of hers at first. I’m painting, and her scent just filled everything. Then ‘Help!’ The Beatles, on my phone. So I ran in. I thought either Dobbs pulled something, or you’d gone through the mirror.”
She waited for Sonya to grab her water bottle.
“I called out when I came in, but you didn’t answer.”
“I didn’t hear you. I guess I didn’t hear anything but them.”
“Catherine and?”
“Her mother. Arabelle. Arabelle married Collin’s twin, Connor Poole.”
“I remember,” Cleo said as they walked downstairs.
“It was Catherine’s wedding night. That must have been her room once, or at least the room they used for that night.”
They stepped outside into the summer sunlight, and Sonya let it warm her bones.
“Different wallpaper, different furnishings.” She bent to rub Yoda. “The fireplace still wood-burning and the fire crackling. I could feel the heat from it. Candles, several of them. Oh, and two lamps. Oillamps? Arabelle was brushing Catherine’s hair. It was all so loving, so sweet.”
She told her, trying to describe the feel of the room, the tone of the conversation.
“It’s like you might talk to Winter, or I might with Mama.”
“Yes, it was that connection, that bond. It was really lovely, Cleo. Then like with Lissy in the music room that night, everything stopped. It all stopped but Catherine. She looked at me.”
“You spoke with her. I heard your part.”
“She told me how much she loved William—William Cabot—and how she felt knowing he loved her.”
As they walked to the seawall, Sonya tried to recount what Catherine had said to her, in detail.
“Like a dream.” Cleo nodded. “That makes sense to me. She was spellbound, in a trance.”
“Right up until Dobbs took her wedding ring. Cleo, she said she could never get her life back—that can’t be changed—but that the ring doesn’t belong to Dobbs and never will.”
“All right, that’s important. It’s a kind of confirmation, Son.”
Cleo tapped the moonstone ring she wore.
“Dobbs has the ring, but it’s still Catherine’s. None of the rings belong to Dobbs, so that part ofdoneisn’t done. We can take them back.”
“She said I would because I must. What good does that do, Cleo? That doesn’t tell me anything I don’t know.”
“Let’s sit here, soak in some sun and this breeze like Pye. She’s got the right idea.”
Cleo sat on the seawall, drew Sonya down beside her.
“It hurts you to see her, speak to her, knowing what happened to her. It hurts me,” Cleo added, “and I’m hearing about it all secondhand. You saw her die, Sonya, and now you saw her on her wedding night, all that anticipation and happiness. So you’re hurting.”
“I am.”
“That discourages you. Why wouldn’t it? Temporarily.”
Sonya blew out a breath. “Temporarily.”
“I know you, and I know once you settle again, you’ll use all of it to add one more layer to your determination. You’re allowed to feel sad. I’m sad, too. But she did tell you—us—something we didn’t know.”
