Hudson put his heavy arm around Olivia. He didn’t say a word, but she could feel his gratitude in the gentle squeeze he gave her shoulders. He then gave Haviland a scratch on the neck and glanced at his watch.
“Time for work,” he declared, not bothering to conceal his eagerness to head for the restaurant.
Olivia followed him outside. “You’re going to take a day off when Anders comes home, aren’t you?”
Looking horrified at the prospect, Hudson shook his head. “Not a chance. I plan to be at the restaurant as much as possible. You’ve never lived with a newborn. All they do is eat, sleep, poop, and cry. By the time Caitlyn starts school, things’ll be better, but until then, this is gonna be the summer of no sleep. Don’t be surprised if you find me stretched out on the floor in the office.”
Olivia thought of Laurel, of how she juggled her career and motherhood without much support from her husband.
“Aren’t you modern-daddy types supposed to be hands-on? Changing diapers and getting up with the baby in the middle of the night?”
Hudson snorted. “I’d just make a mess of things. Kim’s real good with the kids. I don’t know how to do things like she does.” He paused, his gaze going distant. “I used to watch her with Caitlyn when she didn’t know I was looking. I’d wonder how she could tell exactly what that kid needed. She knew when to burp her, when to change her, when to sing to her. Seeing Kim like that . . . it was like spying on a stranger.”
Olivia let a moment of quiet settle between them. “I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
“It’s good, I guess. It was just different, that’s all.”
He shifted uncomfortably, and Olivia recognized that her brother had had enough sibling intimacy for the moment. However, she was in a lighthearted mood from working in Anders’ room, so she laughed and chucked Hudson on the arm. “I don’t like change either. Unless I’m revitalizing an old building or starting up a new restaurant, I’d rather stick with the status quo forever. But look at us, Hudson. The time is flying by. We’ve got to be able to keep pace with it, stare it in the eye, and say, ‘Bring on the change. I’m ready.’ ”
Hudson gave her a strange look. “Are we still talking about me here?”
Olivia felt a tinge of heat prickle the skin of her cheeks. “Maybe not.”
By Friday, Rawlings still hadn’t returned Olivia’s calls. He sent the Bayside Book Writers an e-mail saying that he’d try to make their next meeting but that he hadn’t had an opportunity to critique Millay’s chapter. Olivia had switched weeks with Millay because she didn’t know what to do with Kamila now that her character had slept with Ramses. It wasn’t the first time Olivia had faced writer’s block, but this one seemed more formidable than previous ones. She sensed there was a parallel between her own stymied romance and her inability to plot the next passage of Kamila’s life.
“How can I decide what happens next?” she’d complained to the blank document on her computer screen, glowing poltergeist white in the evening light. “I can’t even map out the next scene in my life, damn it.”
Now, as she waited for Kim to call to say that she and Anders and Caitlyn were home, Olivia turned her attention to Millay’s chapter. She was looking forward to seeing what new adventure Millay’s heroine, Tessa, had embarked upon.
A Gryphon Warrior, Tessa had been chosen to defend her land against a scourge of frightening mythological creatures. Up to this point, the narrative had focused mainly on Tessa and her Gryphon. The two were bonded like the dragons and their riders from the Anne McCaffrey books, and Tessa had recently discovered the secret name of her Gryphon. By calling his name, she’d awakened her own magical abilities, but with no training in magic, she was now vulnerable to attack as she headed to the furthermost outpost of her people.
Olivia leaned back in her chair and began to read.
Tessa held on to Variynt’s thick mane as he dove between the sharp spires of rock. The Needle Mountains were a menacing cluster of towering stones, so tall that they blotted out the sun and obscured the horizon. Flying between their narrow, clawlike spires was dangerous at best, and in a thunderstorm with the wind currents shifting every few seconds, it was close to madness.
The Gryphon blinked drops of cold rain from his amber eyes and veered away from a jagged outcrop of rock. Tessa flew with her head tucked against Variynt’s neck, but the biting rain battered the flesh on her hands and face. Finally, the icy downpour abated and the mountains gave way to a stretch of dark wood. It happened without warning. In the space of a heartbeat, Tessa looked up and the rocks were gone.
We’re going to make it, she thought and knew that Variynt had heard her relief. She and her Gryphon were bonded telepathically. Tessa also experienced his pain as if it were her own and had been told by the priests that if her Gryphon died, she would follow him to the White Plains, the place where Gryphon Warriors rested after exhausting lives of battle and strife.
Suddenly, a trio of nets was discharged from the canopy of trees, pinning Variynt’s wings to his sides. He cried out in rage and crashed through the foliage, the branches piercing his skin like razors, Tessa screaming with agony.
Just when she thought they’d collide with the hard ground, their bones snapping like kindling in the fire, the nets jerked upward, and they swayed back and forth, hovering over a clearing.
Tessa fought to regain her breath. The sound of her heartbeat roared inside her head, and Variynt was flooding her with a mixture of anger and distress.
Voices speaking in a foreign, raspy tongue surrounded them, and Tessa struggled to pull the blade from her bootstrap. She never got the chance, for the netting was rapidly removed and several men grabbed her, pinning her down. Though she cursed and spat, her hands were lashed behind her back and then she was yanked to her feet as though she weighed less than a pile of Variynt’s feathers.
Before her stood a cloaked man. He slid the hood from his head, and Tessa held back a gasp. Both of his cheeks were tattooed with dragon scales.
He was a Wyvern Warrior, Tessa’s mortal enemy. The race Tessa’s people had warred against since the dawn of time. He was also the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
And he was smiling at her.
Olivia went back to the beginning of the chapter and made a few notes in the margins. In her opinion, Millay had a tendency to take her metaphors too far. She knew that Millay was a huge admirer of Dean Koontz’s style but didn’t feel that her metaphors were as successful, or original, as Mr. Koontz’s.
Overall, Olivia enjoyed every installment of Tessa’s journey, but something about the last line made her forget all about mythological beasts. Instead, her thoughts turned to Rawlings. Why wasn’t he returning her calls?
Her iMac binged, indicating the receipt of a new e-mail. Olivia minimized Millay’s chapter and noticed the sender was Professor Billinger. He’d sent her an enormous attachment, and she could only hope that he’d discovered something useful. The moment she read his message, she knew that he had.
Dear Olivia,
I hope this note finds you well. Excuse the clichés, but I have been burning the candle at both ends in search of more information on the ill-fated lovers. After exhausting the documents at the North Carolina Museum of History, I traveled to DC and began hunting there.
I won’t bore you with the details, but within the seemingly endless archives of the Library of Congress, I found a treasure trove of documents and photographs on the prison camps of North Carolina. There were dozens of photographs from Camp New Bern, including the one I’ve attached featuring our mutual friend, Heinrich Kamler. Unlike the photo you saw in my office, this one shows his face quite clearly, and as you can see, Kamler stands apart from the rest of the prisoners.