Page 5 of The Healer (The Blood of Legends #2)
Chapter Five
THE BLACK BOX
“I mean it, Ilona. Call if you need anything.” Evie’s furrowed brow, concern etched into her polite smile, and her outrageous black-and-white, flower print dress couldn’t warm Ilona’s heart.
“Thanks.” She accepted the fragrant hug, smashed her face in her best friend’s unbound tight curls, and returned the squeeze with more effort than she had shown any other guest.
“Now, if you want to feel alive and jump out of a plane or off a bridge with nothing but strings as a lifeline, I’m not your girl.”
Ilona laughed as expected of her. “Right, I’ll ask Kelly.”
Evie hugged her again. “Call me, or text. I can do texts.”
“Go.” Ilona nudged her onto the porch. She stood there, waving, a fake smile cracking her lips, denting her stiff cheeks, and making her scar itch.
The afternoon sky glowed the blue of the Caribbean Sea, soft cotton-ball clouds and a cool breeze added to the cacophony of cheerful birds mocking her sorrow. Shutting the front door, she scanned the chaos with the wake and funeral over. Gran waltzed through the lounge and dining room, gathering dirty glasses and abandoned plates.
Everyone offered to help, but Ilona wanted the silence without pitying gazes and condescending shoulder pats. In the kitchen, Gran rinsed the glasses for the dishwasher.
The house wasn’t the one Ilona had grown up in. She didn’t have to deal with childhood memories. This was a newer home, but it still smelled like her parents. Mom had a weakness for vanilla candles, and Dad’s orchids perfumed the hallway. A shopping list on the fridge would never see closure. Magnets held onto brochures of possible vacation destinations. Ilona on her prom night sat centerstage, the photo curled at the edges. How was she supposed to go through their things? She couldn’t sift through their lives as if they no longer mattered.
“Evie gone?” Gran glanced her way before closing the dishwasher door with a flick of her ballet-slippered foot. “Wipe the counters down for me, sweet pea. I need to fetch something from the car.”
Seconds ticked past as Ilona stared out the kitchen window, the wet cloth gripped in her hand. The sun was beginning to set, and the colors splashed across the deepening blue took her breath away. Or was that her smothered sobbing?
“Ilona, please come into the dining room,” Gran called.
After dabbing her cheeks with the cloth, Ilona draped it over the sink and peeked into the dining room. On the table sat a black box with antique brass butterfly brackets in detailed filigree. In the diminishing light, the polished black wood shimmered.
“What’s this?” She ran a finger along the smooth wood.
“A box.” Gran’s lips twisted before she chuckled. “Made in African Blackwood and was a gift from your grandfather.”
“Gramps gave you this?” She furrowed her brow in confusion. Gramps wasn’t a sentimental man, and this little chest looked like it would hold something precious.
“No, not your gramps, your biological grandfather.”
Ice drenched Ilona’s scalp, spreading tingles down to her toes. “What?”
“Before I met Henry, I fell in love.”
She clasped her hands over her ears. “Oh, no, you don’t.”
“I was young and stupid. I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left him. Henry loved Elise as if she was his own.”
Ilona blinked, ice and fire taking turns to rack her body. Her heart thumped so hard it vibrated in her chest, fluttering butterflies in the pit of her stomach. “Did…Mom know?”
Gran stiffened, her fingers twitching where they rested on the dining room table. “No, I never told her.”
“Then why tell me?” Ilona thumped her chest, finding comfort in the familiar ache her fist inflicted. “Why now?”
“His name is Amos Denton. I need you to take this box to him and—”
“Introduce myself to an absolute stranger?” Ilona shook her head, sending her gold earrings swirling. “Hi, I’m your granddaughter. Oh, you want evidence? Here are my DNA test results.”
“Don’t get sassy with me, Ilona Strickland.”
“You can’t just spring this on me, Gran. Now? After everything?” She slumped into a chair, holding a palm to her cheek. Her wound itched around the dissolvable stitches, which was a good sign, and touching it soothed the urge to scratch.
“You need time away from all this.” Gran swirled a finger, indicating the house. “I’m locking this up. You can deal with it when you’re ready. Go to Coedwig, deliver this to Amos, and stay there for a while. Take a break, a vacation. Do it for me, sweet pea.”
Time away did sound blissful, and with nothing to do but sleep, Ilona couldn’t think of something she wanted more. Her body, mind, and soul held no more life and purpose. She was lost and exhausted. Time alone where no one knew her, knew about her parents…
More than this, a trip would delay the Great Cleanse she dreaded. This house was hers now, as well as the fortune her parents had left her. She didn’t need to sort through their things anytime soon.
She rolled her stiff shoulders, trying to ease the tension. “I’ll clear out the perishables.”
Gran beamed, darting around the table to crush her in a tight embrace. “You’ll love it there.”
She returned the hug, inhaling Gran’s sweet lavender fragrance that she hadn’t changed since Ilona was a little girl. “Why don’t you come with? Speak to Amos yourself?”
“Hell, no.” Gran shuddered. “These bones can’t handle the cold.”
“Cold?” Ilona smiled. “As in snow-covered hills and pine trees?”
“Icy winds slipping through gaps in your clothing, sludge underfoot, flurries and snowflakes stinging your cheeks? Yes, that cold.”
“Where is Coedwig?” Ilona had never heard of it. Fenneg’s warm clime and mild winters with not a snowflake in sight confirmed Coedwig was nowhere near this city.
“It’s a fourteen-hour drive east. Take a flight to Inner City, then rent a car and head north for a few hours.”
“Whoa. When were you east?”
Gran tried to shrug away the question, but Ilona maintained eye contact. “The Devereauxs are from Inner City or thereabouts.”
“Right, thanks for the history lesson.” Ilona huffed. “I’ll just ask Amos then?”
“Don’t you dare.” Gran slapped her hand on the table then stormed off with a “Just take the damn box, Ilona.”
She darted after her gran, crowding her. “What if he volunteers information without me asking?” Grinning and bouncing on her toes, she teased her, enjoying flustering her and the reddening of her cheeks. “I’ll get all the gory details.”
Gran raised her face to the ceiling as if she prayed for patience. “What was I thinking, Henry?”
“Gramps would snort and arch an imperious brow.” Puffing on an invisible pipe, Ilona deepened her voice, hoping to mimic his mannerisms. “This is of your doing, my queen.”
Gran giggled then cupped her mouth. “Fair enough. Knowing Amos, he’ll be as tightlipped as I am.”
“So, you think he’s still alive?”
Her hazel gaze turned dreamy. “Oh, yes, he’s well and kicking. I remember a man so vibrant death wouldn’t dare take him.”
“If I may ask, what happened? Did you leave him?”
Tears shimmered, and Gran removed her eyeglasses to dab with a tissue she had produced from the sleeve of her cardigan. “I loved him so much, but he had to marry someone else. When I found out, I took the first bus out of Coedwig, not knowing I carried Elise. I told everyone who asked that my husband was a policeman killed in the line of duty. No one doubted me, not even Henry.”
“Did you love Gramps?” Memories rose, of summers spent with her grandparents, how doting they were and such sweethearts to each other. Ilona couldn’t believe for a minute Gran hadn’t loved him.
“I did. Henry was like your favorite blanket, warm, comfortable, and reliable. He proved in the little things how he cherished me. With Amos, there was no blanket, he was all I needed. He was grand gestures with a volatile temper, but then, so was I.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, clutching the crushed tissue between trembling fingers. “I like to console myself with the thought our love would have consumed us, leaving nothing but an ember of something so beautiful and precious.”
She patted Ilona’s hand. “Promise me, sweet pea. If you meet a man whose passion dominates your senses, propels you to be a better person, inspires you to spread your wings with the full knowledge he’s beside you and will never forsake you, you’ll hold onto him. Don’t let silly fears stop you from embracing such a love.” Gran scrunched up her tissue and tucked it into her sleeve. “You fight to keep him. You promise me.”
“All right, if such a pillar of masculinity should appear before me…”
“Ilona.” Gran rested her hands on her hips, her warning clear.
“Fine.” She grinned, unrepentant, then wiggled her pinky finger. “Want me to pinky swear?”
Gran slapped her hand away. “You get your sass from your father.”
Ilona dragged her into her arms, gently crushing her in a squeeze. “I get it from you.”
Gran’s response was a muffled snort, just like Gramps.