grimaced each time she saw his unkempt appearance.
Still, he determined at that very moment to spend his week at the fabled Connemara House talking with Lauryn Kensington. He’d spend it trying to help her solve the puzzle of Laura’s disappearance. Maybe then there would be something to feel good about. Something that proved his worth in the world.
Lauryn clutched her hands together uncomfortably. Her mother had always warned her that not everyone was at ease with affection or friendly gestures that involved physical contact. Even the slightest hint of intimacy unnerved some. But it bothered Lauryn greatly that Brant seemed so against receiving her sympathy or friendship. She wanted him to trust her, to talk to her, to let her help him. But she also realized it must be incredibly difficult for him to accept those things from anyone, especially someone as recent to his acquaintance as Lauryn. No doubt, he’d been quite independent before the injury to his eyes. She knew that she must be patient and strong. She mustn’t let his moodiness or his being irritated with her deter her from discovering everything he knew about Lauralynn.
“ So, tomorrow, when you’re a bit more rested…” Lauryn ventured.
“ I’ll tell you everything about her that I know, now. And you don’t need to wait until tomorrow to ask me.” He turned his face in her direction once more and seemed to be waiting for her to begin her questioning.
Lauryn was completely undone! Where to begin? It was impossible to know what might be important. “Tell me again…what is she wearing?” she asked, finally.
Brant nodded. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised by her inquiry. “A blue dress, white sleeves. A gold locket on a black ribbon around her neck…it has a little likeness of Brandon in it.” He paused and seemed to be searching his memory for more details. “A wedding band and an amethyst ring on the other hand. Simple shoes…but…”
“ Yes?” Lauryn prodded when he stopped.
“ The hem of her skirt…” he continued. “I never thought about it before…it’s stained. Mud maybe. A dark stain…yeah, mud I guess.”
“ Is she very beautiful?” Lauryn asked in a whisper. “I mean, still?”
“ Hell, yes!” Brant exclaimed. Then seemed to remember the presence of a lady and corrected himself. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Yes. She’s beautiful. She hasn’t changed at all in over fifty years I suppose. As beautiful as the day she died.”
Lauryn smiled, rather oddly amused by his swearing in her presence and delighted that he should feel so inclined to apologize. But somehow it bothered Lauryn that Brant should be so adamant about Laura’s beauty. So determined about its foreverness. Lauryn had seen paintings and old photographs of Lauralynn and…well, she must admit it to herself, her great-aunt was beautiful.
Suddenly Lauryn felt very tired. Her mind couldn’t think clearly at such a late hour and she stood up from the bed. “You’ll talk to me some more tomorrow?” she asked. She half expected him to growl, “NO!” at her. But he nodded instead. “Good night then, Mr. Masterson.”
“ Good night, Lauryn,” he mumbled. “And thank you for your concern about my comfort,” he added just before she opened his door to leave.
“ You’re welcome.” And somehow sleep did come to her then. Once Lauryn was warm in her bed, she found her mind at ease, calm and able to rest. It wasn’t until the birds in the trees outside her bedroom window began their morning song rehearsal that she awoke again.
Chapter Four
“ And over here,” Lauryn explained as she carefully led Brant toward the aged building, “Is the old springhouse.” Brant had seemed very interested when Nana had suggested after breakfast that morning that Lauryn take him on a tour of the house and grounds of Connemara. Lauryn was very thankful that Patrick was off somewhere playing with a friend. His endless questioning and babbling at
Still, he determined at that very moment to spend his week at the fabled Connemara House talking with Lauryn Kensington. He’d spend it trying to help her solve the puzzle of Laura’s disappearance. Maybe then there would be something to feel good about. Something that proved his worth in the world.
Lauryn clutched her hands together uncomfortably. Her mother had always warned her that not everyone was at ease with affection or friendly gestures that involved physical contact. Even the slightest hint of intimacy unnerved some. But it bothered Lauryn greatly that Brant seemed so against receiving her sympathy or friendship. She wanted him to trust her, to talk to her, to let her help him. But she also realized it must be incredibly difficult for him to accept those things from anyone, especially someone as recent to his acquaintance as Lauryn. No doubt, he’d been quite independent before the injury to his eyes. She knew that she must be patient and strong. She mustn’t let his moodiness or his being irritated with her deter her from discovering everything he knew about Lauralynn.
“ So, tomorrow, when you’re a bit more rested…” Lauryn ventured.
“ I’ll tell you everything about her that I know, now. And you don’t need to wait until tomorrow to ask me.” He turned his face in her direction once more and seemed to be waiting for her to begin her questioning.
Lauryn was completely undone! Where to begin? It was impossible to know what might be important. “Tell me again…what is she wearing?” she asked, finally.
Brant nodded. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised by her inquiry. “A blue dress, white sleeves. A gold locket on a black ribbon around her neck…it has a little likeness of Brandon in it.” He paused and seemed to be searching his memory for more details. “A wedding band and an amethyst ring on the other hand. Simple shoes…but…”
“ Yes?” Lauryn prodded when he stopped.
“ The hem of her skirt…” he continued. “I never thought about it before…it’s stained. Mud maybe. A dark stain…yeah, mud I guess.”
“ Is she very beautiful?” Lauryn asked in a whisper. “I mean, still?”
“ Hell, yes!” Brant exclaimed. Then seemed to remember the presence of a lady and corrected himself. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Yes. She’s beautiful. She hasn’t changed at all in over fifty years I suppose. As beautiful as the day she died.”
Lauryn smiled, rather oddly amused by his swearing in her presence and delighted that he should feel so inclined to apologize. But somehow it bothered Lauryn that Brant should be so adamant about Laura’s beauty. So determined about its foreverness. Lauryn had seen paintings and old photographs of Lauralynn and…well, she must admit it to herself, her great-aunt was beautiful.
Suddenly Lauryn felt very tired. Her mind couldn’t think clearly at such a late hour and she stood up from the bed. “You’ll talk to me some more tomorrow?” she asked. She half expected him to growl, “NO!” at her. But he nodded instead. “Good night then, Mr. Masterson.”
“ Good night, Lauryn,” he mumbled. “And thank you for your concern about my comfort,” he added just before she opened his door to leave.
“ You’re welcome.” And somehow sleep did come to her then. Once Lauryn was warm in her bed, she found her mind at ease, calm and able to rest. It wasn’t until the birds in the trees outside her bedroom window began their morning song rehearsal that she awoke again.
Chapter Four
“ And over here,” Lauryn explained as she carefully led Brant toward the aged building, “Is the old springhouse.” Brant had seemed very interested when Nana had suggested after breakfast that morning that Lauryn take him on a tour of the house and grounds of Connemara. Lauryn was very thankful that Patrick was off somewhere playing with a friend. His endless questioning and babbling at
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