I slipped on my wrapper and slippers, then carefully slid the hammer and screwdriver from under my pillow before stealing from the room. I’d taken the tools from the maintenance closet earlier that day, hoping they wouldn’t be missed until I could return them the following day.
After pausing to listen for voices or approaching footsteps, I dashed out into the corridor, almost colliding with the corner of the large antique bookcase that I’d seen the orderlies and doctors discussing earlier. It looked as if they’d managed to pull out a corner of the large piece of furniture before simply giving up, leaving an even bigger impediment in the hallway.
I ducked into the servants’ stairwell and ran quickly up to the attic floor. I’d seen Caroline leave after dinner, so I knew Cooper was alone. Two empty cots had been set up in the attic but had yet to be filled by incoming patients.
The door was slightly ajar and I pushed it open. There were no lights on in the room, but a pale, milky light settled on the room like a gentle benediction. The bed was empty, yet I knew Cooper was there, could feel him watching me, could feel his pull like the tides under the moon. I turned my head and saw him outlined against the window, where he’d pushed aside the blackout shades.
I stayed where I was, afraid to approach. Afraid to get pulled into the riptide that seemed to surround him. I cleared my throat. “I brought the tools to open the top drawer of the cabinet.” I considered for a moment placing them on a trunk and leaving, but knew that I could not.
“I was hoping you’d come,” he said softly. “I’ve been waiting to finish sketching you. You promised.”
I swallowed, hoping he couldn’t hear it. “I’ve been busy.” I cleared my throat. “I found out that I’m related by marriage to Prunella Pratt. She was my father’s stepmother.”
“And Harry?”
“Her brother. He disappeared in 1893. And it looks like his artistic abilities disappeared with him.”
“Interesting,” he said, walking toward me. “What a strange coincidence. That you’re related to the family who once lived here.” He stopped in front of me, near enough that I could feel his heat. He was bare chested again, wearing only his pajama bottoms. The gift from his fiancée.
The reminder made me step back. Holding out the tools to him, I said, “Here. Let me know if you get that cabinet drawer open.” He hesitated a moment, then took them. I turned to leave, but strong fingers captured my arm.
“Please. Not yet. Let me finish your sketch. It’s a full moon and I’d like to capture you in the moonlight.” I heard the tools clattering against the top of a trunk and then felt both of his hands on my shoulders, turning me around. “Please,” he said again, and I was lost on that single syllable.
“Do you still have it?” I asked, hoping for a delay, or postponement, or any reason at all not to spend more time alone with him.
He grinned, apparently reading my mind. “Nurse Hathaway copied all of my medical information on the other side onto another page and gave the sketch to me. She’s a very astute woman.”
Cooper left me where I stood and walked over to a trunk that had been moved between the two new hospital beds to be used as a shared nightstand. He opened it and pulled out what looked like a sheepskin blanket and a single candle in a brass holder. “I found these in here and figured they must have been used by Harry for his sketch subjects.”
“You have to close the blackout shades if you’re going to light the candle.” I was trying to be practical, to remind myself that I was a professional woman, that I was doing this only as a favor to a patient.
His teeth glowed white as he smiled at me, as if he knew what I was thinking. “The civil defense patrolman went by about ten minutes ago. We have about two hours before he returns.”
“Oh,” I said, watching him place the blanket in the puddle of moonlight by the window, then set up the candle on a small table he’d dragged to the middle of the room. The strike of a match was followed by the sharp scent of sulfur as he lit the candle. He grabbed a pillow from the bed and propped it against the wall beneath the window. “Come recline here. I want to make sure I see your eyes.”
I began walking toward the window.
“Take off your slippers, too, if you don’t mind. It ruins the effect.”
I heard the smile in his voice, and it relaxed me, made me believe that he was simply an artist and I his subject. I reclined on the blanket, propping my head on my hand as I leaned against the pillow. It wasn’t uncomfortable, although I wasn’t sure how long I could stay in that position.
“Do you have a brother, by any chance?” I asked, remembering my promise to Margie.
His eyes widened with surprise. “No, I don’t. Why do you ask?”
I shrugged, feeling silly. “Just wondering.”
He nodded, his gaze brushing over me. “Your wrapper. It needs to go, too.”
Looking down, I saw how matronly it looked. “Oh. Of course.” I sat up and slowly untied my wrapper before taking it off and tossing it away from the blanket.