Page 50 of The Curse of Indy Moore (The Cursed Duology #1)

Where Indy Is In the Middle

Thanks to Professor Kumir, we didn’t spend over an hour at the transit hall trapped by Mr. Hawthorne’s adoring fans.

She put a stop to that by declaring that we had places to be.

Otis and I shared in our laughter, even more so when Professor Kumir looped their arms under the guise of needing good support.

We knew she was making sure Mr. Hawthorne kept on track.

At the street, Otis offered to call for a carriage, but it was such a pleasant day out, we opted to walk.

We were halfway to the archives when Mr. Hawthorne came to an abrupt stop.

Otis and I nearly ran into his back. He stared ahead at something, so I peeked over his shoulder.

Colt stood at the end of the street. A woman looped their arms together, her black hair pulled into a tight bun, where streaks of gray peppered her hair.

“Rooke!” The woman released Colt. Professor Kumir stepped aside to let the woman throw her arms around Rooke’s abdomen. She would have to stand on her tiptoes to even think of reaching his neck .

Mr. Hawthorne responded in kind, holding her tight and pressing a kiss to her temple. “Hello, Mother.”

She stepped away to put her hands on her hips. “Colt told me you were coming to town. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I’ve been busy with work.” He cast a glance over his shoulder toward me.

“Ah, yes, Colt told me about her, too.”

Before she could say more, Colt joined us. He gave a polite bow of his head. “Indy, it is nice to see you again. Please, let me introduce our mother, Thea.”

Both sons had the shape of her eyes, but Mr. Hawthorne had the color, albeit far darker in tone. Thea wore a breezy dress, even if the skirt was layered, perfect for the sunny days at the capital. Large pearl earrings dangled from her ears that matched her necklace.

“A pleasure,” I said with a low curtsy. I wasn’t sure what I expected of Mr. Hawthorne’s mother, but I guess I thought she would be a little more gaudy. The pearls were pretty, but she didn’t wear further luxury. Even her wedding ring was a plain gold band.

“Colt told me about the work Rooke has been doing for you. I hope he has been of help,” Thea said with a proud look toward her youngest son.

“I have given her more sleepless nights than she is owed,” Mr. Hawthorne said.

Thea and I shared red expressions. Colt and Otis had the decency to keep their mouths shut, even if their jaws trembled with a need to chuckle. Professor Kumir grinned without hindrance.

“The lot of us have been doing our research. That’s why we are here. We’re visiting the archives today, so I’m afraid I cannot join you for lunch, Mother,” Mr. Hawthorne continued as if he were unbothered.

My stomach sank a little at that, as well as him setting her aside so swiftly.

I’d give anything to be with my family. All I had were letters that could be easily lied in.

In truth, I had no idea what they went through.

We were writing regularly, even if we didn’t have much to share.

Mr. Hawthorne had every opportunity to be with a loving family, but he turned his nose at it .

“You should go,” I said through clenched teeth. “It is rude to turn down your mother so flippantly. Spending time with family is important.”

Mr. Hawthorne bristled at my comments.

Professor Kumir raised a hand, her voice stern and unyielding. “Thea, please take these two off our hands. Otis and I are more than capable of conducting our studies. They may meet us at the archives after a nice meal.”

She pivoted, ending any arguments before they could begin.

“Have a nice day, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Otis said and wandered after the professor.

“Wonderful!” Thea took Mr. Hawthorne’s arm, her smile wide as can be. “I hope you don’t mind coming along, Indy. As a warning, our house can get a little chaotic.”

“I have lived with three younger cousins most of my life; chaos is expected,” I replied eagerly.

Thea walked ahead, asking about Miss Beamy’s whereabouts and his work of late. That had me wondering about Slate’s whereabouts, too. He hadn’t joined us in town. In fact, I hadn’t seen him much recently.

Colt took to walking beside me. He gently nudged my arm with his elbow. “I am glad we ran into you. Rooke may not have come home otherwise.”

I glared at his back. “It is silly that he doesn’t. He is lucky to have you and luckier to be able to visit.”

“I am sure it is of little consultation, but I am sorry.”

“I appreciate the thought and being invited. I think it will feel good to be around something familiar.” Even if they weren’t my family. It would be nice to sit at a table surrounded by one as we ate, listening to any stories they might share.

“I will try to keep today as painless as possible,” he said. “But as a second warning, I have two girls with a lot of energy.”

“How fortunate for them and you that I also have a lot of energy.”

Colt and I shared a laugh. Ahead of us, Thea lectured Mr. Hawthorne on his lack of visiting.

I expected him to make a joke, but he apologized profusely.

It seemed he became rather docile in front of his mother, nodding and agreeing, all the while smiling that crooked grin, more authentic than most he had given.

We left behind the shops to travel the residential streets, where most of the homes stood three stories high.

Their iron gates let one enjoy the sight of their vibrant gardens and stained-glass windows.

Many were constructed of red bricks or gray stones, their windows wide and long.

Carriages passed with golden-capped wheels, and all were dressed to impress.

We were in a neighborhood in which I expected to be sneered at, but I fit in with the Hawthornes.

We came upon one home with vines draped over the brick walls.

Mr. Hawthorne opened the iron gates, welcoming us in.

A great white door stood at the end of the walkway, its handle and knocker a shimmering bronze.

They had a modest yard, where toys littered the grass and flowers lined the walls.

Colt opened the door to a foyer, pastel purple in color, where a set of stairs curved to the second floor and an archway on either side opened further into the house.

The door remained open behind me. I spun to close it, only to find Mr. Hawthorne standing on the stoop, staring darkly into the interior.

“Are you coming?” I asked, startling him. He almost looked ashamed, perhaps because of his long absence.

“Yes,” he said, joining me inside.

The door shut softly behind him. He looked ahead, frozen a moment, then stepped aside, refusing to lift his gaze. I followed his line of sight to the back of the foyer. A painting hung on the wall over a console table.

“Let me inform the others that you are here. Manfred might have started lunch by now.” Thea gestured to her left. “Please, take Indy into the dining room.”

Thea wandered off with a pip in her step. Colt excused himself too, leaving Mr. Hawthorne to guide me to the dining room. He moved quickly, utterly unaware that I didn’t follow. Instead, I went to investigate the painting.

The Hawthorne family had constructed a sort of shrine for their departed Luther. A painting of him, his cheeks still full of boyish youth, gazed brightly at all who entered. However, there was something a little off about him—nothing eerie, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Luther died before we could afford any proper painting,” Mr. Hawthorne said. I hadn’t heard him return. He stood two steps back, arms crossed and eyes locked on the painting. “It doesn’t look entirely like him, but it was the best the artist could do with our descriptions.”

I understood why he didn’t want to look back here.

A sore spot for the family, and perhaps a little uncanny to see someone not quite his brother.

But the painting hovered over a counter full of what once must have belonged to him: a frayed teddy bear, an old newspaper boy hat, a worn leather cat collar, and a box of matches that, upon inspection, was empty.

“Did the collar belong to Beamy?” I asked. One of the cracks turned out to be a tear. She wore the collar until it broke.

“Yes, Mother made him the teddy bear, he always wore a hat, and he liked to chew at the end of a match.” Mr. Hawthorne shook his head at whatever memory put a slight smile on his face. “Obviously we can’t have any in the box with the girls around. The little heathens would burn the house down.”

“May I ask how he…?”

“Mining accident. His body is still down there,” Mr. Hawthorne replied between his clenched teeth.

They lost him entirely. His family didn’t have a last goodbye. I had no words, and Mr. Hawthorne didn’t want them.

“This way.” He stormed out of the foyer.

Before I followed, I bowed my head to the painting. I wasn’t a religious person. There were no gods I prayed to, but for the Hawthorne family, I would hope with all my heart that they could continue to heal from their wounds.

I followed the sound of Mr. Hawthorne’s steps, soon joining him in the dining room.

Windows lined the walls to create a vibrant and sunny atmosphere, where a white round table sat at the center atop pale gray floorboards.

The walls were a beautiful pale blue with white floral designs.

Elaborate crown molding decorated the ceiling to its center, where a glittering chandelier hung, unlit as it wasn’t necessary to illuminate such a sunny space during the day.

A large man waltzed into the room, proving where Mr. Hawthorne got his height and Colt his impressive size.

Mr. Hawthorne’s father filled the doorway and his suit that, while fitted, still struggled to contain his figure. His smile could light up the darkest night, and his eyes were nothing but soothing warmth. He didn’t hesitate to swoop Mr. Hawthorne into his brawny arms.