Uncovering You 6: Deliverance Read online

  “Well, okay,” Charles corrects. “Maybe there are cameras. For security, at night. But when I am working, they are never on.” He steps away from the counter and motions for me to follow. “Would you like to see?”

  “See what?”

  “The tapes,” he says casually. He beckons me after him. “Come.”

  We walk toward an unassuming corner of the room. There’s a pantry door there. Charles stops in front of it, gives me a wink, and pulls it open.

  The inside is… stocked with groceries. I look at him, confused. But then he leans in, feels around the edge for something, and a moment later, the back wall is splitting in two. The hum of a motor fills the air.

  Through the back is a much smaller version of the command center I found in Jeremy’s bedroom. I get shivers as I remember the punishment I endured for having gone in there without his permission.

  Charles looks at me with pride. “You can see everything from here.”

  He walks in. I hesitate a moment before following. This feels like a sort of transgression...

  Then I remember that I am not collared any longer. The “locked doors” rule might still stand, but I am not breaking it. The door is open. Charles invited me in.

  The screens flicker to life and I see the entire mansion: The outside yard. The bedrooms. My old bathroom.

  I stop short. If Charles has access to that… does it mean that he has seen me naked? Has he seen everything that Jeremy has done?

  He notices me staring at the screen of the sunroom. “Do not worry, Lilly,” he says. “Certain feeds are programmed to turn off when they detect a person in the room. The bedroom, for one.” He points at Jeremy’s bed. “And the bathrooms, and closets. I do not spy.”

  I look at him… and find that I believe him. Charles has such an honest face. It’d be hard to imagine him lying to me.

  “My access is restricted to certain hours, as well,” he continues. “Jeremy can tell when I am here. It’s all quite safe, I assure you.

  “Now… let me see.” He taps the keyboard keys. “Look at the main screen, please.”

  I do. All the others turn off, and the video feeds collect on the big one. Charles points to one showing the kitchen, “Do you see that?” He asks.

  “Yes,” I frown. “But it’s on. You said it’d be off.”

  He grins like a kid hiding a big secret. “Wait here,” he tells me.

  Then he rushes out the door, and stops right where we were talking before. He waves. “Do you see me?”

  I look back at the screen… and find it blank. The kitchen is empty. “It’s a freeze shot!” I exclaim.

  Charles runs back. He looks at me expectantly. Crap! I’d forgotten that he needs to see my lips to hear me speak. “I said that it’s a freeze shot,” I repeat.

  He smiles and puts a finger in the air. “Not quite,” he says. He points at the spinning kitchen fan. “It’s on a perpetual loop.”

  “So when we’re in there… when we’re talking… it’s really off the record?”

  Charles nods. “Yes.”

  We leave the pantry and go back to our previous spot. Charles starts unloading the meats. I bend down to help him, and am super grateful when he doesn’t protest.

  Sometimes, it feels good just to help another person out, and not to be waited on every second of every day.

  “So you were telling me about Jeremy’s brothers?” I remind him.

  “Right,” Charles says. “Robert and Christopher were the pride of the family. Jeremy… Jeremy was the black sheep. His brothers were tall and handsome. And he was--how do I say? Scrawny. Very… gaunt.”

  I blink. I can’t picture that of the man I know. “Really?” I ask.

  Charles nods. “He tried hard to be like his brothers. When he was old enough to understand what they did, he wanted to emulate them in everything. He looked up to them. Oh! How he looked up to them.”

  “When did that change?”

  “It changed,” Charles says, “when he came home.”

  I frown. “Came home? What do you mean?”

  “Jeremy has a learning disability,” Charles tells me.

  “What?” I’m shocked, taken aback. That can’t be right. Not the man I know.

  “You did not know?” Charles looks surprised. Then he chuckles. “Well, I guess you would not think it when you see him today.

  “Yes, Jeremy always struggled with speech. And with reading. Little Jeremy had a lisp, and a stutter. I could never tell, of course, but I know from others.”

  Whoa! This is way more information than I ever imagined I’d receive. Jeremy Stonehart, the man with possibly the sexiest voice on the planet, having a lisp? Jeremy Stonehart, having a stutter?

  If those are things he had to overcome… Jesus, it adds so much more depth to him. No wonder control is important. He’s had to learn to control his speech to make it sound the way it does.

  I bet it’s still a conscious process for him. What would it be like to have to think about every single word coming from your mouth, all the time? I remember him giving the speech at the Gala. He was so confident, so triumphant, so… very natural.

  But none of it was natural. At least, not to the boy Jeremy had once been.

  Knowing that makes my respect for him to grow just a little bit more.

  “His grades were poor. They were not the same as his brothers’. It frustrated him, obviously. But it also made him… an embarrassment… to his father. After half a year in middle school, Little Jeremy was pulled out. His father did not want the academic record to stain the family name. He was homeschooled from then on.”

  “And that’s when it began,” I say, half to myself.

  “Yes,” Charles says. “I think so. Because he was homeschooled, he could not participate in sports, either. He was never very athletic. But, Jeremy always had a big heart. He always gave it his all. And… there were other disadvantages he could not overcome. He did not have the size or grace of his brothers. Their achievements could never be reached.”

  I feel the puzzle pieces sliding into place. No wonder Jeremy spoke with so much malice of his brothers and father. No wonder he took such pride in taking them down.

  I can almost picture him now, not as Jeremy Stonehart, but as… as Little Jeremy. Always the one trying to match his brothers’ achievements. And always the one coming short.

  I know his father was successful. By the sound of it, he was a man who demanded the best. Growing up, Jeremy could not provide him that.

  So, he was raised by an unloving dad. Jeremy told me he’d been overlooked, time and time again. Now I know why. It was not just because he was younger. It was because he was deemed incapable, defective.

  How that must gnaw at a person? I can see those first seeds of determination taking root. Jeremy spoke to me about vengeance. But, it was more than that. He said that when he took over his father’s company in the courtroom, it was the most glorious day of his life.

  No wonder he can be so single-mindedly obsessive. No wonder he has such pride in who he is now. No wonder he has such determination. He really did rise up and create an empire for himself. And now I have a glimpse at the motivation.

  “You said things changed his first year in college?” I ask.

  “Oh,” Charles exhales. “That was a sight to see. When he left, he was just a little boy. But when he returned, a year later, he had become a man.

  “He hit a growth spurt while away. It must have added… six or seven inches to his height. I’ve never heard or seen such a transformation. I remember…” Charles chuckles, “… I remember always having to look down when I spoke to him. But when he returned, for the first time ever, I had to look up.”

  So Jeremy really was a late bloomer. That makes so much sense, too. It puts everything in perspective.

  “He was gangly and tall. But, I think, coming home that summer did something to him. I recall him arriving in the taxi. Only his mother came out to greet him. She was the only one to look out for him
, you know.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “But I watched his arrival through the window. She gasped and ran to him when he stepped out of the car. I could hardly believe it was him. I mean, he had the face, but the boy was so transformed…”

  “I remember how proudly he walked into the house that day. The freedom of not having to live under his father’s criticism… the freedom of being away… must have done wonders for his psyche. He stood tall and proud, finally ready to be himself.”

  “I think,” Charles adds after a moment, “That Jeremy expected it to be more of a triumphant homecoming. What he got instead, was, well…”

  “What?” I press. “What happened next?”

  Charles looks at me. There is a meaningful glimmer in his eye. “You know,” he confides, “I have already told you so much more than I intended. It is probably more than I should. But I’ve never been able to resist the request of a pretty girl.”

  I blush, again, at the compliment. It sounds so sweet coming from him. There is no hidden motivation behind the words.

  “I will get in trouble for this,” he sighs. “But, sometimes, it is worth it. Jeremy came home looking to redeem himself in his father’s eyes. I know this,” Charles adds, “because he told me. He and I spoke a lot, especially when he began to learn sign language. After the accident.”

  “The one with his mother?” I ask. “What happened?”

  “That, I do not know. There is only one person alive who does. But even if I did,” Charles makes a motion of the cross, “I would not speak of it. It is wise to respect the dead.”

  I shift uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” I decide it wise to change the subject. “So you and Jeremy were close? Are close?”

  “His father did not look kindly upon our friendship.” Charles says. “But yes. Little Jeremy spent plenty of time in the kitchen as a boy. He was always running around under my feet. And when he asked me to practice sign language with him, we began spending even more time together. You know,” Charles puts on a thoughtful face. “When I think of it, not once did Jeremy struggle with what I taught him. He picked it all up as if it were second nature.” Charles taps his lips. “I saw no signs of a learning disability.”

  “Perhaps he was more invested in learning,” I say. “It was for his mother’s benefit. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes,” Charles nods. “He was the only one of his brothers to learn.”

  My eyebrows go up. “Really?”

  Charles nods. “Robert and Christopher were already working with their father at that point. I assume they did not have the time.”

  “But Jeremy made time,” I say. So, despite everything I know about him, it seems family—or at least, one member of his family—was important to him. “You said the homecoming wasn’t quite what he expected. Why was that?”

  “Because his father continued to treat him the same as ever. It took only a few short days for Jeremy’s confidence to disappear. He was not proud anymore, no. He began walking with his shoulders slouched. Trying to look small. He looked… like he still felt very small.

  “He became deferential and meek. He was nothing at all like the proud young man who had stepped out of the taxi the first day.” Charles exhales wistfully. “It is all in the body language, you see? I might not be able to hear, but a person’s posture, the way he makes eye contact, how he positions himself during conversation… all of that, I can see. And Jeremy’s entire demeanor shifted to one of meekness in his first week home.”

  “And then?”

  “And then… then, the true transformation began. But that is no longer my story to tell. I’m sorry, Lilly.” He looks sad.

  “Are you kidding me? Don’t apologize!” I exclaim. I’m bubbling with excitement. “Charles, you’ve given me so much. I could kiss you!”

  He breaks out in a smile and points to his cheek, eyes glittering. I take the hint, laughing as I give him a big old smooch.

  Chapter Nine

  We chat for another hour or so about trivialities. Then I leave Charles to his work. I think I’ve given Rose sufficient time to cool down after her explosion this morning. I want to talk to her, to get to the bottom of things, before Jeremy comes home.

  But I don’t find her anywhere in the mansion. I search high and low, even going so far as to knock on the doors of Jeremy’s office—which are locked, of course—and calling out her name. There is no response.

  I find Charles right where I left him and ask if he’s seen her since we talked. He shakes his head “No.”

  I go into one of the rooms facing the ocean and look out the window. Heavy cloud cover blocks the sun. The dull morning gray makes it look like it’s about to start raining at any time.

  I wander to the sunroom, making a note of how eerily empty it feels now that all my old furnishing have been removed. I pick out a fleece from the racks in the closet—well, it’s more of a super-expensive trench coat than a fleece. I dislike paying too much attention to such things. I hitch it over my shoulders, and step outside.

  When the fresh air hits my face, the sensation is liberating in a way I could have never imagined. The freedom to be able to go outside without the worry of being shocked, or of accidentally triggering the collar by overstepping an invisible boundary is worth its weight in gold. How many people out there take their ability to leave the house whenever they want for granted? After all I’ve gone through, I will never do that again.

  I know that Rose and Charles both live on the property. So, if Rose is hiding from me, there is only one place else she can be: the guest house.

  I start in its general direction. I don’t know exactly where it is. Because the estate being so large, angling even a few degrees off I could miss it entirely. But, I’m determined to do my best. Besides, the paths through the trees give me some clue.

  I take my time strolling towards it, enjoying the silence and solemnity of the great evergreens. I still have hours before Jeremy gets back, so there’s no rush. He didn’t explicitly tell me to wait for him. But, after what happened once before when I missed him, I don’t want to push my luck—freedoms or no.

  I come to the clearing and pause at the edge of trees. This is the spot that, last time, initiated that warning tickle beneath my ear. The guesthouse had been off-limits. Why? And why did I find out about the boundary only by nearly overstepping it? Why had Jeremy not told me about it?

  All of that builds the mystery in my head. I feel my curiosity piquing. I touch the smooth, empty skin of my neck, smile a little, and start toward the front door.

  I look through the windows on my way there, trying to get a little peek inside. What I see is all ordinary. Well, ordinary for someone used to wealth and riches. The furniture and paintings that I glimpse are of exactly the same caliber as what is contained within the mansion. They cannot be affordable on a simple housemaid’s salary, even if you throw Charles’s income into the mix.

  It seems working for Jeremy Stonehart comes with its share of material perks.

  I hit the buzzer and wait. Then do it again.

  There is no answer.

  I try knocking instead. The house might be empty—for all I know, Rose could have returned to the mansion while I was walking through the woods—but I won’t give up by turning away now.

  “Rose?” I call out, cupping my hands around my mouth. “Are you in there?”

  The only sound to greet me is the rustle of the wind through the trees.

  I feel my agitation with Rose growing. Why did the woman run away from me the way she did this morning? Why is she so keen on hiding now?

  I jab a finger against the doorbell, again and again and again. I can hear the chiming from inside the house. If Rose is in there—and I suspect she is—she can’t claim she didn’t hear me. She is definitely hiding.

  As a desperate last resort, I place one hand on the handle and give it a push.

  To my surprise, the door clicks open.

  “What the�
�?” Gently, I push the door forward. It swings inward and gives me access to the house.

  I stand there, on the threshold, momentarily stunned. I remember Jeremy’s own rule: You are allowed through any door you find unlocked.

  Surely, when he told me that, he was only thinking of the doors inside his mansion.

  I hesitate. Walking in now would be trespassing. I’d be invading Rose’s and Charles’s private space.

  The irony of that thought makes me give a sudden, sour laugh. I’m worried about invading someone else’s privacy, after everything that’s been done to me? After everything I newly suspect of Rose?

  I might not find her inside. But, I know I won’t be able to stop thinking about this house if I leave it unexplored.

  “Sorry, Charles,” I mutter under my breath, and step inside.

  The interior mirrors Jeremy’s mansion, on a slightly smaller scale. The ceiling isn’t quite as high, and the walls aren’t quite so spread apart. But otherwise, it’s more or less identical.

  “Rose?” I call out again. My voice echoes through the empty halls. “Rose, you left the front door open. I don’t know if you’re in here or not, but I’m coming in!”

  I wait for a reply, counting slowly to five. Getting none, I proceed.

  I pass through the living room. Everything is neat and orderly. There isn’t any clutter anywhere. It reminds me a lot of the way Charles keeps the kitchen.

  Unlike the sterility of Jeremy’s manor, though, I do find signs of habitation here. A few folded throws beside the couch: A newspaper creased in two on the coffee table, a cable box in a console beneath the TV, with one tiny LED flashing red with a recording.

  The guesthouse feels… quite ordinary. As I walk through the kitchen, careful not to touch anything, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

  I don’t know what I was expecting. Rose and Charles seem to lead normal lives—if their home is any indication.

  I end up at the stairs. I place a hand on the railing and pause before climbing them. “Rose?” I say. “Last chance. If you’re up there, you’d better tell me now.”