Private North Read online

  “Is he mad about us?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t think that would upset him like this.” He seemed to ponder what he’d just said. “At least I don’t think it would.”

  “Well, I don’t need to anger him more, so I’m going back in to the office to work.” I looked back the direction that the professor had gone and then swung back around and kissed Dalton quickly.

  “So, you’re just going to kiss me and leave?” he called to me as I headed to the hall.

  I looked back and pressed my finger to my lips to shush him and then went to the office. Two minutes after I sat at the computer, I was not disappointed to hear his footsteps coming down the hall. I listened as his confident step was followed by a muffled, sliding sound, and I realized how familiar and thrilling the sound of his uneven gait had become to me. Dalton had wrapped himself around my heart, and now, all I could do was hope, against what seemed like some tough odds, that he would not break it.

  I pretended to be occupied with work as he entered, but I stared at his reflection in the monitor.

  “It’s really lonely out there without you.” He pulled up a chair and plopped down with a small moan.

  “Did you use a heating pad last night?’ I asked.

  “I don’t need any damn heating pad. I need you, lying naked and warm on top of me. Then all the pain goes away.” He scooted his chair close enough that he could touch me. I smiled.

  “I need to get this work done or your dad will be even angrier.”

  “Fuck him” he said. “It’s winter vacation. You shouldn’t be working.” He reached over and slipped his hand beneath my sweater. His fingers deftly found the strap on my bra, and he slid it down my shoulder, exposing my breast beneath the sweater. “What are you typing?”

  “Nothing,” I sucked in a breath as his rough finger drew a sensuous trail around my nipple. “As you’ve probably noticed, my hands are now frozen over the keyboard,” I drew in another long breath as his finger teased the nipple, “because . . . all logical . . . thought processes have left my head.” His hand slid out of my sweater and found the heat between my legs. “Dalton, please,” I begged, wanting him to continue but knowing he should stop.

  His hand pressed harder against me. “Please,” I said again.

  He leaned over and kissed my ear. Then his tongue moved along my earlobe. “Keep pleading like that, Sugarplum. It is making me so damn hard, I’m about to take you right over there on the desk.”

  Ethan’s approaching footsteps felt like a cold shower. Dalton leaned back but left his hand between my legs until just before his brother showed up in the doorway. I slumped down in my chair, closed my eyes and made a conscious effort to slow my pulse. Even with my eyes closed, I knew Dalton was sitting just inches away watching me and feeling the same disappointment.

  “Dalton, you should leave her alone. She’s working” Ethan’s tone was as cold and distant as his dad’s.

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t want her not to do your share too,” Dalton snapped back. “I mean, after all, you’ve let her do all of the fucking work by herself.”

  “Dalton,” I said quietly. “I enjoy this work. I’m learning a lot.”

  “I’ll let you work then,” he looked at me for a moment and then leaned over. “Tonight,” he whispered.

  He left the room. Once I’d finally gained control of my thoughts, I returned to my task.

  I heard Ethan shuffling around in the boxes but decided not to pay him much attention. Unfortunately, he had other plans. “I guess I misjudged you, Auggie.”

  I did not look away from the computer, but my back went rigid with defensive anger. “Is that so?”

  “You just seemed too smart to allow yourself to be taken in by his charms.”

  He threw the insult at my back. I bit my tongue for all of a second before spinning around to face him.

  “Charm?” I asked tersely. “Charm is a little girl playing hopscotch. Charm is an elderly gentleman holding a door open for you. Charm is a deer standing in a snowy forest nibbling tree bark.” I looked hard at him, and he twisted his mouth as if regretting his comment. “What Dalton has is not charm. That’s what you’ve convinced yourself he has just to make him sound shallow and easily forgotten. When Dalton North walks out of the room, all the energy in that room leaves with him. And you know it. There’s no way you could have been around him all your life and not known it.” I turned back around and blinked back the stupid tears that had threatened to spill onto my cheeks.

  Ethan stood stock still and silent behind me as I picked up the next bag and began to enter the data. I startled when his phone rang but I remained focused on my work. Now, more than ever, I wanted to finish the job.

  “Hey Roni,” He stepped into the hallway but I could still hear him.

  I typed in the data for the next piece and made an effort not to eavesdrop, but his deep voice resonated in the empty hallway. “The mailman doesn’t come for a few more hours. Why don’t you just tell me what the gift is, Veronica?” He paused. “Fine.” Another pause. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. There’s just some stuff happening here at the house. I’ll be sure to call you as soon as I get the package. Bye.”

  He did not return to the office and I was relieved. If I could just take my mind off Dalton for awhile, I could plow through three or four boxes and be close to finished with the entire job.

  ***

  Once again there was no invite to a warm lunch and no fragrance of good food beckoning from the kitchen. But I was definitely hungry. The house was quiet as I headed down the hallway and then I heard Professor North talking to someone in the kitchen. I turned around to head back to the office but then something he said caught my attention.

  “I wasn’t ready for it today,” the professor said with a tone that bordered on frantic.

  I stopped and felt a tinge of guilt as, once again, I found myself listening in on a private phone conversation.

  “Yes, yes the stone post on the right side of the drive,” his voice broke as if someone was telling him of a death. “It is the only way to make it seem legitimate. I will just have to prepare myself mentally.” The conversation ended and I scurried on soft feet back down the hall to the office.

  I walked over to the window seat and sat down. It had been a strange conversation, and I might not have thought much of it except for the fact that the professor had sounded as if he might have a break down at any moment. With less confident than usual footsteps, he walked past the office and closed his bedroom door shut sharply behind him.

  I stared out the window and wondered where Dalton had spent the morning and then as if I’d conjured him just by thinking about him, he appeared. With the help of his walking stick, he plodded through the newly fallen snow back toward the house. I ran to my bedroom to freshen up and brush my hair and then I headed out to the kitchen.

  The front door opened and my heart jumped like the silly school girl I’d tried so hard not to be. But my shoulders relaxed as Ethan walked in from the front porch. He double checked the clock on the wall. He’d acted nonchalant to Veronica on the phone, but obviously, he was waiting anxiously for her package.

  I went into the kitchen and looked into the refrigerator as if I was looking for something to eat instead of waiting for Dalton to walk inside. Ethan grabbed the coffee pot, filled a cup and stuck it in the microwave to heat up. He didn’t say a word to me. I hated the angry tension between us.

  The front door opened. He nearly filled the doorway with his broad shoulders and the second he looked at me, I felt instantly better. He shook the snow from his black hair and threw his coat on the rack next to his dad’s coat with the distinctive red tartan scarf draped around the collar.

  “What’s for lunch? I’m starved,” Dalton asked, and the cold atmosphere in the kitchen melted with his smi
le.

  Ethan glanced down at his wet army boots. “Where were you?”

  “Hiked down to the main road and back to stretch my leg. Should I have gotten permission?”

  Ethan didn’t answer him. He pulled his cup out of the microwave. “Did you happen to see the mailman while you were down there?”

  Dalton looked at him. “Yeah, he should be at our mailbox right about now.”

  Coffee spilled over the brim of the cup as Ethan slammed it on the counter. Dalton watched with curiosity as his brother raced to the coat rack and stopped. “Where the fuck is my coat?” He plucked his dad’s coat off the rack and raced out the front door.

  Dalton turned to me. “What the heck was that about?”

  I opened my mouth to confess my eavesdropping incident when Professor North stepped into the room. He was as pale as the snow outside, and his breathing seemed erratic. He glanced frantically around the room. “Was that Ethan’s voice I just heard?”

  “Dad, what’s wrong. You look terrible.”

  “Where the hell is Ethan?” he shouted.

  Dalton stared dumbfounded at his dad. My heart raced with the sudden realization that something was horribly wrong.

  “He just went out to get the mail,” Dalton said quietly.

  Professor North’s face took on an unnatural color and I was sure he would collapse. But he raced toward the door and froze in front of the coat rack. “Where is my coat?”

  Worry rolled off of Dalton in waves. “Ethan borrowed it to—”

  A loud explosion outside shattered the tightly wound atmosphere. “Ethan!” Professor North yelled and ran out the front door. Dalton grabbed his stick and raced after him at a pace that had to be nothing short of torture. I followed, scared to death of what I might see once I reached the front porch.

  Snow White, it was the first bizarre notion that popped into my head. Skin white as snow and lips red as blood. Ethan was sprawled in the snow and deep red blood had been splattered across the icy surface as if someone had wildly flailed a paintbrush filled with red paint. Professor North looked as if he had just woken in a horrific nightmare. He leaned over Ethan with his phone pressed to his ear. The entire wretched scene seemed to move in slow motion with the exception of Dalton. Using his stick like a ski pole to carry him along, he raced through the snow toward something or someone. As I ran toward Ethan and Professor North, I saw a flicker of movement in the trees below. It was a figure dressed head to toe in white to be camouflaged with the landscape, but his black gun was easy to spot.

  I took a small breath of relief when Ethan’s arm moved. He wasn’t dead but he was badly hurt. A rich, red pool of blood formed under his side.

  Professor North’s hands shook almost uncontrollably as he stuck the phone back in his pocket. “Help is on the way,” he said in a barely audible tone.

  “What should I do, Thomas?”

  He looked toward the road. “Call Dalton back. It’s dangerous.” It seemed like an odd worry at a time when his son laid bleeding to death in the snow, but I followed his request.

  I stood and looked for Dalton. He’d dropped his walking stick, and the downhill steepness of the road hurled him with a speed that seemed faster than he could bear. And I was right. He fell painfully hard on the icy ground. The white figure was long gone. Dalton pushed to his feet and trudged back toward us. He leaned down and picked up his stick but rather than use it to move easier through the snow, he stepped off the road. He yelled out as he smashed the stick against the tree. It splintered into pieces.

  Tears poured down my cheeks as I stooped beside Ethan. His skin had taken on a pale blue cast that resembled the piece of pottery he’d taught me about. Blood dripped freely from the gunshot wound in his side. Professor North looked close to catatonic as he sat in the snow staring at his son.

  The tartan scarf lay across the snow like a great plaid snake. I balled it up and leaned over Ethan. “I’m going to press this against the wound,” I said softly. “I apologize if it hurts.” I got up on my knees, reached over Ethan, and pressed the scarf against the hole with all the strength I could muster with shaky hands. I looked over at Professor North. “How long will it take for the ambulance to get here?”

  He looked at me in a daze as if I’d just asked a question in Latin.

  “Twenty minutes, at least,” Dalton said. “We’ve got to move him from the snow. He’s going into shock. We need to get him warm. Auggie, move to the other side and keep pressure on that as I carry him to the porch. Dad,” he paused as he noticed his dad’s state of distress for the first time. “Dad, pull yourself together and go inside for blankets.”

  Professor North peered up at Dalton, and it seemed, for a moment, that he would not be able to move. Then he pushed to his feet and lumbered across the yard to the house.

  I hurried over to Ethan’s other side and held fast to the scarf. Dalton leaned down and scooped his brother into his arms. Ethan was nearly as tall and heavy as him, yet Dalton lifted him with ease. But the pain in his leg was clear on his face. I stumbled along next to him keeping pressure on the wound. He carried Ethan up the front steps and laid him gently on the blanket his dad had placed on the ground. I kept my hand in place as they bundled him in blankets. Ethan drifted in and out of consciousness.

  Dalton went stiff in pain as he dropped to his knees beside his brother. He caught his breath and then took Ethan’s face in his hands. “Hey Buddy, try to stay awake. I know it’s hard but fight it. Stay with me, Ethan,” Dalton’s voice wavered and my tears flowed faster.

  The comforting scream of sirens came up from the road below. The red flashing lights dipped in and out from behind the trees and then the ambulance turned up the road.

  “Hear that, Ethan? Help’s on the way.” Dalton looked over at me. The expression on his face nearly broke me in two. His dad stood over us wringing his hands and just seconds, it seemed, from a complete breakdown. “Dad, who the hell would come up here to shoot at us? What’s going on?”

  Professor North could barely stand let alone speak. He just shook his head weakly.

  Three police cars had arrived with the emergency crew. Professor North insisted that in his state of despair he had seen nothing, but Dalton and I provided them with all the details we could remember. The paramedics did not waste much time getting Ethan into the ambulance. Professor North rode with Ethan, and Dalton and I followed in my car.

  I looked over at Dalton. He’d not taken the time to get his coat and gloves. His hands and shirt were covered in his brother’s blood, and the despair on his face made my chest tight with sadness.

  “I’m sure Ethan will be fine. The wound was on his side where there are no important organs.”

  He stared down at his blood stained hands. “I’m as fucking useless as a three legged horse.”

  “The guy had a gun. What were you going to do if you had reached him?”

  “Pummel his face into a tree and then wrap the gun around his neck. Or at least that is what I would have done before. . .”

  “Ethan would still be hurt. The police will catch him.”

  Dalton sat in a silent trance the rest of the way to the hospital and I couldn’t help but wonder if carrying his wounded brother to the porch had dredged up the horrible day when he’d carried his best friend to safety. I knew, for the time being, there was little I could say to comfort him. He was in pain and despondent with worry.

  There was a sea of red lights at the emergency room entrance. More police had arrived, which made sense since there was a crazy man loose in the woods with a gun. Dalton stepped out of the car and his face twisted as he grabbed his leg. I dashed over to his side, took hold of his hand and pulled his arm around my shoulder for support.

  The paramedics had wheeled the gurney in before Dalton and I had reached the entrance. Professor North sat on a chair i
n the hallway and a nurse was taking his pulse. He barely had the strength to look up as we walked down the hallway toward him.

  The nurse’s eyes widened as she looked at us, and for the first time, I realized that I was covered in almost as much blood as Dalton. “You’re the brother?” the nurse asked.

  “Yes.”

  “The doctor is going to give your father something to calm him. His pulse is dangerously high. Does he have any history of heart problems or hypertension?”

  “Not that I know of.” Dalton looked down at his dad. “Pull yourself together,” he said coldly, “keeling over with a stroke is not going to help Ethan.”

  Professor North lifted his face. He looked nothing like the calm, thoughtful man who stood over the lectern at school enthusiastically talking about pyramids and pharaohs. “This was my fault.” His voice was as unfamiliar as his face.

  “What do you mean?” Dalton asked. “How could this be your fault?”

  Professor North didn’t answer.

  The nurse released his wrist. “All of you look as if you need a chance to sit and pull yourselves together.” She pointed to a door. “There’s a private waiting room in there. Let me know if you need anything. We’ll let you know just as soon as we know anything about Ethan.”

  We were not in the waiting room for longer than five minutes when the professor’s phone rang. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of it.

  Dalton watched him as he hurried from the room to answer it. He shook his head. “None of this makes sense. Who would hike through snow to find a house and randomly shoot someone? And my dad’s reaction and behavior is so far out of character, it’s like I’m looking at a complete stranger.”

  “Well, his son was just shot. I think we can give him some leeway on behavior. But I agree. Even though I don’t claim to know him as well as you do, I’ve spent many hours in his classroom, and the man who teaches antiquities is not the man I’ve seen pacing the house and startling at the sound of his phone these past days.”