weird.”
Mack peeled off his wetsuit jacket and threw it to the floor.
“That’s right, son,” he said with a bitter edge to his voice. “Live in her shadow. Play lapdog to the universal if you must. You’re just like your mother—a slave to someone else. Some of us prefer to stand on our own two feet.”
As Mack was wearing bright yellow flippers when he said this, the remark would have been funny if it had not bothered Col so badly
“You’re so blind, Dad. Mom’s not a slave. The gorgon’s amazing.”
“The expert now, are you? What has your mom been telling you?”
Col said nothing; he didn’t want to share his secret visit to Snake Hollow with Mack of all people. He started the engine and pushed it into top gear so that it whined with an angry hum, jerking the boat intomotion. The two Clamworthys returned to Hescombe Harbor sitting at opposite ends of the boat.
8
Inheritance
C onnie decided that breakfast was the best moment to broach the subject of a visit to the abbey, as Hugh would be there. She waited until her aunt had satisfied her hunger with several rounds of toast before taking the plunge.
“I’ve been wondering, Aunt,” she began.
“Yes?” Godiva was instantly suspicious.
“You mentioned something about the Lionhearts being an old family—merchants, I think you said.”
Godiva smiled. This was a safe topic.
“Indeed. I’m glad you’re taking an interest in them.”
“Uncle Hugh said they were sailors, too.”
Hugh rustled his newspaper. “That’s right, my dear—it goes with the territory, you might say—oldest son in the warehouse, younger in the shipping business. Shockingnumber of them lost at sea, of course—those sailing ships may be beautiful, but they were treacherous.”
Connie wondered fleetingly how many of her ancestors had fallen foul of the Kraken on their voyages, but knew better than to speak this thought aloud.
“I’d like to see their memorials in the abbey. Would it be okay if I went this morning?”
Godiva sniffed, trying to scent the hitch.
“Perhaps Uncle Hugh could come with me and show me around a bit?”
“Delighted, my dear. I have a favorite tomb I’d like to take you to—remember, Godiva, Charles Lionheart’s one under the south window?”
Godiva smiled at her brother. “Of course, I remember, Hugh. We could hardly tear you away from it when you were a boy. Yes, you go and show that to Connie.”
Hugh, with old fashioned gallantry, offered his great-niece his arm as they crossed the Abbey Close a few minutes before noon.
“Are you managing all right, Connie?” he asked once they were out of sight of Godiva. “I know my sister can be a bit fierce but she means well.”
Connie said nothing.
“It’s just that you’re looking a bit peaked. I was beginning to worry. She said you had to go through this to be cured. I hope you understand.”
“I’m not ill, Uncle.”
He glanced at her sideways. “You probably don’t see it like that. I understand. Who understands better? I came from a whole family of people who had only a vague connection with sanity—my sister Sybil was completely…” He checked himself. “I loved her all the same. It was terrible what happened to that nice young man of hers.”
There weren’t many visitors in the abbey that morning. Sunlight streamed in through the round south window, staining the floor with rich splashes of color. Connie walked forward and stood in the center of the ring. She looked up. The vast circular window was in the shape of a compass—it was breathtakingly blatant—here for everyone to see.
“Lovely, isn’t it,” said Hugh, rubbing his hands. “They say it stands for the ring of eternity—the snake with its tail in its mouth. The compass is a parable of how the heart leads us to our Maker.”
But it’s also about me, thought Connie. Someone in the family knew what the symbol meant—they must’ve. “Who paid for it to be put here?” she asked
Mack peeled off his wetsuit jacket and threw it to the floor.
“That’s right, son,” he said with a bitter edge to his voice. “Live in her shadow. Play lapdog to the universal if you must. You’re just like your mother—a slave to someone else. Some of us prefer to stand on our own two feet.”
As Mack was wearing bright yellow flippers when he said this, the remark would have been funny if it had not bothered Col so badly
“You’re so blind, Dad. Mom’s not a slave. The gorgon’s amazing.”
“The expert now, are you? What has your mom been telling you?”
Col said nothing; he didn’t want to share his secret visit to Snake Hollow with Mack of all people. He started the engine and pushed it into top gear so that it whined with an angry hum, jerking the boat intomotion. The two Clamworthys returned to Hescombe Harbor sitting at opposite ends of the boat.
8
Inheritance
C onnie decided that breakfast was the best moment to broach the subject of a visit to the abbey, as Hugh would be there. She waited until her aunt had satisfied her hunger with several rounds of toast before taking the plunge.
“I’ve been wondering, Aunt,” she began.
“Yes?” Godiva was instantly suspicious.
“You mentioned something about the Lionhearts being an old family—merchants, I think you said.”
Godiva smiled. This was a safe topic.
“Indeed. I’m glad you’re taking an interest in them.”
“Uncle Hugh said they were sailors, too.”
Hugh rustled his newspaper. “That’s right, my dear—it goes with the territory, you might say—oldest son in the warehouse, younger in the shipping business. Shockingnumber of them lost at sea, of course—those sailing ships may be beautiful, but they were treacherous.”
Connie wondered fleetingly how many of her ancestors had fallen foul of the Kraken on their voyages, but knew better than to speak this thought aloud.
“I’d like to see their memorials in the abbey. Would it be okay if I went this morning?”
Godiva sniffed, trying to scent the hitch.
“Perhaps Uncle Hugh could come with me and show me around a bit?”
“Delighted, my dear. I have a favorite tomb I’d like to take you to—remember, Godiva, Charles Lionheart’s one under the south window?”
Godiva smiled at her brother. “Of course, I remember, Hugh. We could hardly tear you away from it when you were a boy. Yes, you go and show that to Connie.”
Hugh, with old fashioned gallantry, offered his great-niece his arm as they crossed the Abbey Close a few minutes before noon.
“Are you managing all right, Connie?” he asked once they were out of sight of Godiva. “I know my sister can be a bit fierce but she means well.”
Connie said nothing.
“It’s just that you’re looking a bit peaked. I was beginning to worry. She said you had to go through this to be cured. I hope you understand.”
“I’m not ill, Uncle.”
He glanced at her sideways. “You probably don’t see it like that. I understand. Who understands better? I came from a whole family of people who had only a vague connection with sanity—my sister Sybil was completely…” He checked himself. “I loved her all the same. It was terrible what happened to that nice young man of hers.”
There weren’t many visitors in the abbey that morning. Sunlight streamed in through the round south window, staining the floor with rich splashes of color. Connie walked forward and stood in the center of the ring. She looked up. The vast circular window was in the shape of a compass—it was breathtakingly blatant—here for everyone to see.
“Lovely, isn’t it,” said Hugh, rubbing his hands. “They say it stands for the ring of eternity—the snake with its tail in its mouth. The compass is a parable of how the heart leads us to our Maker.”
But it’s also about me, thought Connie. Someone in the family knew what the symbol meant—they must’ve. “Who paid for it to be put here?” she asked
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