Читать книгу A Twist In Time - Lee Karr - Страница 7

D ella’s breath was short and her heartbeat rapid. She was frightened and yet curious. She’d never closed her mind to new experiences and even as a warning went off in her head, she moved slowly to the bottom of the stairs. Putting a shaky hand on the newel post, she stared up the old staircase. There was no sign of the ghostly figures that had been there a moment before. Cautiously, she mounted one step, then another until she reached the first landing. After turning on a wall light, she looked down the hall in both directions.

Empty. Workmen’s clutter was everywhere—lumber, sawhorses, boxes, sacks of plaster, cans of paint. Everywhere was the same mess she’d left earlier in the day.

She walked to the steps leading to the third floor and stared upward. She couldn’t hear anything in the echoing darkness except the clatter of rain upon the roof. She swallowed a hard lump in her throat. The hotel was as it had always been.

She turned around and slowly went downstairs to the lobby. A wash of relief swept over her when she saw it was again in shadow, except for the night-light at the hotel entrance. The old chandelier was once again lost in the darkness of the vaulted ceiling. Everything was exactly as it had been before the weird impression of light and ghostly women.

Della’s forehead beaded with nervous sweat as she looked around the lobby and up the empty staircase. How could her senses have fooled her so completely? She brushed a hand across her eyes and suddenly a swish of cold air hit her face, blowing her blond hair back from her face.

She cried out and turned to flee. For an instant, she saw the silhouette of a man reflected in the windowpane. Colin? In the next instant, the impression was gone. A bleak light from a streetlamp illuminated the deserted street outside.

She fled down the hall to her apartment. Her fingers trembled as she shut the door on the rest of the unoccupied hotel and leaned against it. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her breath caught. Her eyes went to the wing chair, which still held the impression of Colin’s body. Could his obsession with the past have affected her more than she realized. Yes, that must be it. His emotional reaction to the discovery of the tunnel and his talk about Shawn Delaney’s murder must have planted subliminal images in her mind. He had made the hotel’s past come alive and she had momentarily lost touch with reality.

Angry with him and herself, she was tempted to call him and tell him what had happened. The impulse died quickly. She knew she wouldn’t tell him. She wouldn’t tell anybody. The whole thing was too bizarre.

She was tired. The problems of renovating the hotel were getting to her, and Colin’s visit had unsettled her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him. He fascinated her, in a strange way. When he held her hand, she felt drawn to him in a way that mocked her usual cool demeanor toward attractive men. And when he’d talked about his mother, she’d been jolted by the force of raw emotion emanating from him. The hatred in his eyes when he’d talked about his great-grandfather had been so intense that even now she felt herself recoil from it. Surely he didn’t believe anyone who had been dead over a hundred years could be responsible for tainting the heredity of all the Delaney men?

As she prepared for bed, Della was determined not to think about the odd experience in the lobby. Her vivid imagination had played a trick on her, that was all.

A few minutes later, on the edge of sleep, the vision came back so sharply and clearly, she could have described the old-fashioned gowns in detail: velvet green and red satin peplum overskirts pulled back into ruffled bustles that trailed down to the floor; low-cut necklines edged in silk flowers and gathered ecru lace; scalloped streamers and velvet-ribbon bows dotting full skirts and puffed sleeves. Even the lace gloves and glittering fans were clear in her memory. I must have seen an old picture like that at some time, she told herself. That was the only explanation that made sense.

The next couple of days were hectic and Della had little time or energy to think about anything but the renovation of the hotel. She solved one crisis only to be faced with another. The work proceeded at a snail’s pace and the estimates of time and money were way off. She raised hell with the construction foreman and then called her banker who confirmed what she feared—her cash flow was edging toward the danger point.

“You better get those cost overruns under control,” he told her.

She checked every invoice to make sure she wasn’t being ripped off. Her investment was turning into a fiasco and confidence in her business judgment was waning. Della let the phone ring three times before she grabbed it impatiently and barked, “Hello.”

“No need to ask you how your day’s going,” Colin said in his deep resonant voice. “You sound ready to eat bear.”

“Bears, snails, rattlesnakes. Anything that moves.”

“I guess this is a bad time to remind you about the civic development dinner. I was going to suggest that I stop by and we walk over to the restaurant together.”

She ran an agitated hand through her mussed blond hair. “I’d forgotten about it. I don’t think I’ll be going.”

“It’s important that everyone pull together to make the area a financial success,” he said in a reasonable tone that added to her irritation.

“I know that,” she snapped. “Save your chamber of commerce speech for someone else.” Then she instantly felt ashamed. She leaned back in her chair and threw down her pencil. “I’m sorry. It’s just that…well, I wouldn’t be very good company.”

“You have to eat,” he answered reasonably. “And I could round up a snail or two to put on your plate if that will make you happy.”

She was surprised at his light tone. She could picture a slight smile on the edge of his lips. Well, why not, she thought. Maybe she just needed to share her problems with someone who would understand. Besides, she really wanted to see him again. He’d been in her thoughts more than she was willing to admit.

“Forget the snails, bears and rattlesnakes,” she said. “Roast beef will do fine.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up about seven-thirty. The restaurant’s only a few blocks away. If you don’t mind walking…?”

“I don’t mind. See you then.” She hung up, surprised to find that their brief conversation had somehow restored her equilibrium. With new energy, she cleared off her desk and then left the office. She walked all over the hotel, checking on the work.

She was on the third floor talking to a painter, when a brush of cold air hit her face and she broke off in midsentence. At the same instant, she heard the sound of running water, and a woman’s soft laugh came from a nearby room that had originally been a shared bath. When Della jerked open the door, she couldn’t believe her eyes.

A voluptuous naked woman with red hair piled high on her head was taking a bath in the old claw-footed tub. She hummed contentedly and poured water over her face with cupped fleshy hands.

Della gave a choked cry.

“What’s the matter, miss?” asked the small wizened man who was filling his paint tray a few steps away. Della pointed.

He walked over, looked into the bathroom and shrugged. “Just an old tub. Don’t see nothing to get excited about.”

“That’s all you see? An old tub?” An arctic chill crept up her spine.

“Yep.” He gave her a queer look and returned to his painting.

Della looked again. The old tub was empty and dry. And yet she was positive she could still hear humming and splashing water. Like someone caught in a nightmare, she turned and walked away. When she reached the stairwell, she looked back down the hall. The shadow of a man stood watching her, his stance frighteningly familiar. Colin?

She pressed her hands against her temples. I’ve lost my mind. Crazy people couldn’t distinguish between reality and fantasy. And neither can I. The woman in the bathtub, the old-fashioned ladies wandering through the hall, the man in the shadows, they were all in her mind. No one else was aware of the invaders. No one else seemed to notice whiffs of cheap perfume overriding the paint smells. She was the only one aware of the ghosts who had taken over her hotel.

When Colin came to pick her up, he eyed the strained lines around her mouth and the dull glaze in her gray-green eyes. She was like a tight spring ready to pop, every muscle tense and rigid. Her soft appealing lips were taut. Her nervous hands smoothed the skirt of her simple white dress and tugged at a soft pink scarf looped in a puff at her neck. “You weren’t kidding about having a bad day, were you?”

She opened her mouth as if to say something but then closed it and only nodded.

He was puzzled by her behavior. She’d always shown extreme self-direction and competence while handling the business end of buying the hotel and arranging for its renovation. More than once, he’d admired her direct, unemotional approach to problems. She was a rare combination of strength and feminine softness. From the first moment he’d met her, she’d intrigued him. Intelligent. Fascinating. And beautiful. The direct unblinking beauty of her large eyes haunted him. The proud lift of her chin made him want to cup her face in his hands and taste her sweet lips. He wanted her.

But he knew better than to bring any woman into his life. His mother had warned him that Delaney men brought only destruction to those foolish enough to fall in love with them. His heart constricted when he thought about Elena, his first love, who had drowned before his very eyes. God forgive him if he’d already betrayed Della Arnell by selling the hotel to her.

“If you really don’t want to go…?” I should have stayed away from her, he thought when he saw her ashen face.

“No, it’s all right. I have to get out of this place.” She turned away abruptly and preceded him out the front door.

He silently swore. It was the hotel. The blasted hotel. The past was like a cancerous growth that would not go away.

They walked in silence. After a couple of blocks, Della was aware that Colin was striding beside her with a ferocity that did little to ease the tightness in her chest and stomach. Why had she agreed to go with him? Her lips quivered. Desperation, that’s why. She hadn’t wanted to be alone in the hotel—alone with ghosts of the past.

He stopped abruptly when they reached the restaurant. “I don’t feel like going to any meeting.” He put a hand on her elbow and guided her past the café. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” She was relieved that he’d been perceptive enough to know that sitting in a room full of businesspeople, making polite remarks and trying to listen to a dinner speaker were more than she could handle.

She glanced at his profile and saw tight muscles flickering in his taut cheeks. Had her mood affected him so much that he was willing to forgo his civic duty? What was going on behind those deep-set eyes of his? His dedication to upgrading Market and Larimer streets was almost a religious passion, as if he felt compelled to single-handedly eradicate all evidence of the town’s early red-light district. Once again she wondered if his obsession with the past could somehow be responsible for her terrifying fantasies. Had he mesmerized her in some way, so that she was seeing the hotel through a historical haze?

He caught her apprehensive look and pulled her to a stop. “What’s the matter? You’re looking at me as if I have horns sprouting from my forehead. Tell me what’s going on.”

She moistened her lips. I’m going crazy. Old-fashioned ladies of the night are wandering around my hotel. I even found one taking a bath upstairs. For a horrid moment, she wasn’t sure whether or not she had spoken her thoughts aloud. When his expression remained the same, she knew that he was still waiting for an answer.

“I…I’ve been having bad dreams,” she stammered. That was close enough. Dreams were accepted as a sane phenomenon and she couldn’t tell him the truth. She couldn’t tell anyone. She kept her eyes focused slightly to the right of his face so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes.

“What kind of dreams?”

“I…I don’t remember,” she lied.

His dark eyebrows narrowed over the bridge of his nose. “You don’t remember?”

She pointed to an outdoor café across the street. “I need a drink.”

They were waiting for the light to change when the sidewalk suddenly dipped beneath her feet. She gasped, wavered and grabbed Colin to steady herself.

What was happening?

She could see Colin’s lips moving but couldn’t hear what he was saying. Everything around her was in flux. Panic-stricken, her eyes darted in every direction. The buildings, the people, the smells, the noise. Her ears roared with the sound of horses neighing and carriage wheels clattering over rough streets. She cried out and covered her ears with her hands.

“What’s wrong?” she heard Colin ask.

She tried to jerk away from him as he pulled her against him, caught in a panicked impulse to flee, to hide, to escape from the assaulting sounds and sights that had no reality. “Let me go,” she sobbed against his chest.

“It’s all right, it’s all right.” He stroked her hair and put his lips against her moist forehead.

After a moment, the ground stabilized under her feet. With terror caught in her throat, Della gingerly raised her head from his chest. No horses, no wagons, no unfamiliar buildings. Cars roared by and the whirling blades of a helicopter sounded overhead. The stores, the people and the shops were just as they had been. Her strangled breath came in short gasps.

“Let’s get that drink,” he said. He kept a firm arm around her waist as he guided her across the street to the outdoor café, and eased her onto one of the chairs. “Scotch and water,” he barked to a hovering waiter and held up two fingers. Then he sat down opposite her. “All right. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I guess I had some kind of…of a spell,” she said lamely. She wanted to tell him what was happening to her but she couldn’t reveal the unbelievable truth. I see and hear things that aren’t there. I think I’m going crazy.

He frowned. “Your eyes were round with terror. Something frightened you.” His intense blue eyes suddenly darkened to almost black. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Why should I lie to you?” she said with some of her normal spirit. “Please don’t ask me to explain. I need time to sort things out. And I don’t want to talk about it, all right?” How could she tell him what was happening to her when she didn’t know, herself?

The waiter arrived with the drinks. She held her glass with trembling hands and gratefully let the fiery liquid ease down her throat. She kept her eyes lowered.

Colin’s troubled gaze appraised her over the rim of his menu. “I recommend the black bean soup and Monte Carlo sandwich.” She nodded and he ordered another drink with their food.

The surrounding laughter and easy chatter of other diners was reassuring. An early-evening crowd sauntered along the sidewalk in front of the café, and slowly the weird illusion of horses and wagons faded as if it had never happened. She began to relax.

When their order came, and she had eaten what little she could, Della glanced anxiously at Colin. What must he think of her? “I’m really sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I want to know what happened.” He leaned forward, offering his hand, but she didn’t take it. Instead, she drew back in her chair. His mouth tightened and a muscle quivered in his cheek.

She could see that her rejection had offended him. But how could she explain that she was entertaining dangerous feelings about him that were too strong to deny. He was engaging her emotions on levels she had never felt before. If the truth were known, he scared her.

“I know about dreams…nightmares…unexplained visions,” he said as if trying to encourage her confidence. “Don’t be afraid. You can share them with me.” The blue in his eyes deepened to a strange feathery black. “I’ll understand.”

She stared at him and suddenly her mouth went dry. I’ll understand. The shadowy figure at the end of the hall and the outline at the rain-streaked door…both times the impressions had made her think of Colin. And now, on the street, he had been with her when the bizarre illusion had assaulted her. Her pulse began to pound in her temples. Her thoughts whirled. Get hold of yourself. She really was losing it. Trying to tie Colin in with the aberrations of her mind was utterly ridiculous. She felt herself coloring under his measuring stare.

“I knew…I knew I was too tired to go out tonight,” she stammered. “You should have gone to the dinner without me. It’s still early. You can still make the meeting…”

“Damn the meeting,” he said gruffly. He quickly paid the bill and they left.

Silence built a wall between them on the way back to her hotel. When they reached the front door, he took the key from her trembling hands. Ignoring her pointed “Thanks…goodbye,” he followed her into the lobby.

Della sent a frantic look at the staircase. Empty. No painted ladies. No bright lights. Nothing. If she took him upstairs, there would be nothing to show him there, either. No harlots parading in and out of rooms in their gaudy satin dresses, no voluptuous redhead taking a bath in an old tub.

He stood behind her and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. A sob caught in her throat and hot tears spilled into the corners of her eyes. He put his hands on her arms. Gently he eased her against his strong firm body. “Tell me. Whatever it is, we need to share it.”

The last fiber of her resistance melted away. She took a tremulous deep breath. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. Tonight on the street…everything changed,” she said in a strangled voice. “The buildings. The people. I heard horses and carriages.” She turned to face him. “And in the hotel, I see women. Old-fashioned harlots. Painted faces, low-cut gaudy dresses, hair piled high on their heads. Wandering up and down the stairs. In the halls. Taking baths.”

“Good God.” His voice cracked.

“Nobody else sees them…only me. I don’t know—” She broke off. Like an explosion, a raucous noise vibrating down the halls and ricocheting off the high ceilings shattered the silence of the empty hotel. A cacophony of laughter, tinny music and clinking glasses rose and fell in waves and vibrated through the echoing building.

“What the hell—” Colin swore.

“You hear it, too?” Suddenly, she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. The bewildering onslaught of noise wasn’t just in her mind. She wasn’t alone.

Colin strode to the bottom of the stairs, listened and then shook his head. “It must be coming from somewhere at the back of the building.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let’s find out what the hell is going on.”

The racket grew louder as they reached a back entrance and the stone stairs descending into the basement.

“Oh, no!” Della shot an apprehensive look at Colin. She knew where their search would end. “The tunnel.”

“Didn’t you close the damn thing up?” He strode angrily down the stairs.

The basement was dank and drafty with a bare electric light hanging from the open-beam ceiling. At one end of the room, a crude opening yawned in the rock wall. Cold air swept out of the passage and Della hugged herself against the chill. The loud thumping of piano, laughter and singing created a deafening din.

“It’s coming from the tunnel, all right,” Colin said.

“But how can that be? There’s only a vacant lot across the street.”

Colin’s eyes burned into hers. “Then none of this is happening. We’re both hallucinating.” His voice lowered to a growl. “Maybe you buy that but I don’t. All my life, I’ve been shackled to the past. This is my great-grandfather’s mean spirit calling to me.”

In one frightening second Della knew that he was going to rush into the black tunnel.

“Go back upstairs,” he ordered.

“No,” she screamed, grabbing his hand and trying to pull him back.

He gave her a shove and turned toward the tunnel. In the next instant, he was gone. Della had not intended to follow him, but before she could move back from the opening, a blast of cold air sucked her forward.

“Colin!” she cried out, twisting and turning, unable to free herself from the propelling force driving her into the tunnel.

In the darkness of the passage, he reached out and grabbed her hand. A gale like the intense sucking force in a wind tunnel swept them both forward. Caught in a whipping, swirling hurricane, they clung to each other as they traveled through the passage.

A split second? An eternity? Della never knew. Flashes of bright lights. The brilliant hues of rampant flowers. Almost imperceptibly, the dank smell of the tunnel was replaced by a sweet floral perfume. A kaleidoscope of colors blinded her with stabbing intensity. The wind died and Della felt the ground beneath them level out.

They clung to each other. When they regained their balance and could see again, they were standing in the foyer of Maude’s Pleasure House on Market Street, dressed in the fashions of the 1880s.