frogs and the crickets ceased their song. I stood in the corridor until one lone frog called and was soon accompanied by the others. An owl hooted, and the nocturnal sounds resumed. I searched for a light switch but couldn’t find one. With the moonlight showing me the way, I headed toward the staircase, certain that I would find Zeke in his father’s study, poring over papers, or sitting in a chair with a book in his lap.
Goose bumps broke out on my arms. After a second my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Someone was behind me, a presence. ‘Who’s there?’ I turned, but not quick enough. A strong hand connected between my shoulder blades. The hand pushed. I tumbled.
Doors opened and shut. Voices whispered in the corridor above me, which flooded with light. Footsteps pounded down the stairs.
‘Sarah?’ Zeke squatted down next to me, wincing as he bent his injured leg.
‘Don’t move her,’ Daphne said.
I convulsed with shivers.
‘She’s in shock,’ Simon said. ‘Daphne, brandy and a blanket, please.’
Soon Daphne returned with the blanket. Simon tucked it in around me, his hands gentle and sure, while Zeke cradled my head in his lap. Daphne poured a dollop of brandy into a snifter and handed it to Zeke. He helped me sit up and held the snifter to my lips. I sipped. The brandy went down smooth and hot. Soon the shivering stopped.
Simon examined my ankle. He poked and prodded. ‘Does this hurt?’
‘No.’ My voice came out as a croak. ‘I want to try to stand up.’ Zeke and Simon helped me to my feet.
‘I should fetch a doctor,’ Daphne said.
‘No.’
Daphne recoiled at my tone. I hadn’t meant to snap.
‘I’ll be fine. I just want to get back to bed.’
‘If it were broken it would be swollen,’ Simon said.
‘Are you sure you don’t want us to fetch the doctor?’ Zeke asked.
‘No. Let’s wait until tomorrow. I think I’ll be fine.’
‘Do you have aspirin?’ Daphne asked.
‘I do,’ Zeke said. ‘Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.’ I didn’t bother trying to put the weight on my ankle, for that wasn’t my problem. My shock didn’t come from pain. It came from fear. It came from being pushed down the stairs.
* * *
‘Lock the door,’ I said to Zeke the minute we were in our room and I was situated on the couch.
He turned the key in the lock and left it there.
‘What’s the matter? You’re scared to death.’
‘Someone pushed me,’ I said.
‘What? Are you sure?’
‘Positive.’
‘Tell me what happened.’ Zeke sat down next to me on the love seat. He reached the afghan that hung over the back and placed it around my shoulders.
‘I was going to come and look for you. It was dark. I didn’t see anything or hear anything. I sensed someone behind me. I called out to them and was just turning around to see who it was, when they pushed me.’
‘There’s no way that Jack Bennett knows where you are, Sarah. And I am certain that Hendrik Shrader has no idea where we are. In any event, I’m going to secure the house.’
‘I’m coming with you.’ I put my feet on the floor and tried to stand. Pain exploded in my ankle. I sat back down. ‘Maybe not.’
‘I’m locking you in. Don’t open the door for anyone but me, okay? I’ll be right back.’ He left the room. The key turned in the lock, and I sat listening until his footsteps faded away. With great effort and considerable pain, I managed to hobble off to bed. After what seemed like an eternity, Zeke returned.
‘All the windows were shut tight and locked. Are you okay?’ He locked the door behind him and sat on the bed next to me.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I said.
‘I need to ask you some questions while this is fresh in your mind.’
‘Okay.’
‘Lay back and close your eyes.’
I did as he instructed.
‘Was the hand that pushed you that of a man or a woman?’
‘I have no idea. They came up behind me, so it’s not like I saw them.’
‘Okay, think of it this way. Was the hand large or small? Strong? Or soft?’ I remembered the feel of the hand between my shoulder blades.
‘Strong,’ I said, ‘but I can’t tell the size.’
‘Did you smell anything? Cologne, aftershave? Perfume?’
I shook my head. ‘No, no smells.’
After he brushed his teeth, Zeke turned off the light and slipped under the covers next to me. When I was cradled in his arms, he said, ‘I don’t want to think that one of my family members pushed you.’
‘What if I surprised the cat burglar?’
‘I thought of that, too. If the cat burglar was in the house, I doubt he would take pains to close the window or door behind him. You’re going to learn to shoot tomorrow,’ Zeke said.
I shivered, but not from the cold.
* * *
Zeke was gone when I awoke to the morning sun beaming into my room. It was already hot, but I welcomed the light of day. Nothing like sunlight to cast away the shadows.
‘We’ll have to pull the curtains soon, miss,’ Helen said. She fussed with my pillows as I tied my dressing gown around my waist. ‘Otherwise it will get too hot in here and you’ll roast.’
‘I don’t plan on staying in bed all day,’ I said. My ankle didn’t hurt as much this morning, and I had no intention of spending my day cooped up in bed. Helen had placed the newspaper on the table, the headlines a brutal reminder of the war: ‘RAF, YANKS SMASHING REICH!’ The photos beneath the caption depicted a bomb’s wreckage and ruin. I flipped through the pages until I came across an ad for Quentin Reynolds’ radio piece entitled, ‘What Nazis Did to Civilians in Russia.’ Underneath that a small headline announced, ‘17 OUT OF 100 FATHERS MAY BE DRAFTED BEFORE 44.’
‘Pretty soon there won’t be any men left,’ Helen said. She picked up Zeke’s shirt and tossed it in the laundry hamper. ‘Do you want me to draw you a bath?’
‘No,’ I said, setting the paper down. ‘I’m going to dress and go outside.’
‘Do you need me for anything?’
‘No, Helen. Thanks for taking such good care of me,’ I said.
‘I’ll go down and get you some coffee and cinnamon rolls. Mrs Griswold’s cinnamon rolls will make your ankle feel better,’ Helen said. ‘I know it sounds crazy, but they have curing abilities. You’ll see.’
‘Knock, knock.’ Daphne breezed into the room, decked out in breeches and tall leather boots. She carried a crystal vase filled with an assortment of flowers I recognized from our tour of the garden. ‘These are for you, Sarah. I picked them myself this morning.’
‘They’re gorgeous. Where in the world did you get that vase?’
‘I bought it from an estate sale in Chesterton. It’s Waterford, probably late nineteenth century.’ She set the vase down