Page 133 of Perfume Girl

“Mrs. Beauregard’s residence,” Arthur answered in his clipped British accent.

He’d served as my mom’s butler for over ten years and was now a part of this place.

“It’s Astor. Can you have my mother meet me in the garden, please?”

“I’ll be right there, sir.”

The call dropped and I stared at my phone. Then I saw him at the back door working the lock.

“Hello, sir,” he called over. “I’m afraid your mother’s feeling a little under the weather.” He gave a thin smile. “No pun intended. Are you able to visit her in her room?” From his look of sympathy Arthur knew he was asking no small thing.

Entering that house was a nightmare I wasn’t prepared for. Not today anyway… not after the disaster that had left me emotionally spent.

With a tight jaw I turned and stared out at the water. “I should probably check on the horses.”

“She’d love a visit, sir. She hasn’t been out of bed in days.”

Balling my hands into fists, I reassured myself this was nothing I couldn’t handle. It was just a house and I shouldn’t allow bricks and mortar to have that kind of power over me. With that logic burning up my brain I gave a nod and headed inside.

“You have a new dog?” Arthur stared down at Caine with affection. “Some kind of hound?”

“I found him running loose in the storm.” I offered the leash to Arthur. “May I ask you to get him some water?”

“Of course, sir.” Arthur beamed as he escorted me to the foot of the sweeping staircase.

“I can find my own way,” I said.

He hovered and then leaned down to pat Caine’s head. I suspected it was Arthur’s way of making sure I was okay to go on alone. He knew I hated this place and at times I suspected he knew why. I waited for him to walk away before I swiped my brow with my sleeve and returned my gaze to the staircase.

On the way up my hand gripped the banister too tight and I had to take a few seconds to calm my racing heart.

This is ridiculous.

It had all happened decades ago. Yet as soon as I made it to the top step and faced in the direction of what was still my mother’s bedroom, even after all this time, all that had unfolded in that room came rushing back…

I saw the blurred figure of a boy running along the hallway—me.

Like a ghost heading out of the shadows, I recognized myself at the age of thirteen, bolting down the wide hallway where I stood now…a young boy drenched in terror as he ran towards that room.

I wouldn’t have taken another step had it not been for my mother needing to see me and me needing to know she wasn’t as sick as Arthur had indicated.

The boy ran intothatroom ahead of me.

Don’t go in…

With each step, each breath, I was reminded that I’d not entered this house for decades. Yet I sensed I’d never left, not really…these walls still held me hostage as though the vines clinging to them were choking me, preventing a part of me from ever leaving.

A burst of lemon air freshener hung in the air. The red carpet was hardly worn from the lack of visitors in this enormous house that had never been a home.

Nudging the door open, I peered in, keeping my focus on the large bed that sat in the center of the bedroom, my mother lying in it, not moving. Stepping in, I reasoned if she was asleep I would have a reason to leave.

She slowly turned her head to look at me. “Astor.” She raised her hand, gesturing for me to come closer.

“Mama.” I closed the gap between us and sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “How are you?”

Her frail hand grasped mine. “One of my headaches.”

“Can I get you anything?”