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Miss Davis and the Architect

Page 71

by C.N. Jarrett

Barclay shook his head and tried to make sense of what she was saying. “Do you … mean that Mama came to you in your dreams?”

Tatiana shrugged, clearly disinterested in the distinction. “I tried to tell you that Jane was the one, but you did not listen. Mama said I must insist.”

He sighed. Tatiana had conjured her mother through her grief, as he had been doing these past two years. It was not the important part of what she said. He needed to listen and understand her needs. Then later, hope there was still an opportunity to repair things with Jane and make all this right.

“Why are you here in the grotto?”

“Mama came last night, and she said it was very important that you and Jane come back to the grotto. She said I must arrange it so that she could leave because she had been here too long.”

Tatiana must have observed that he and Jane had forged a special bond and that the grotto had been a place that exemplified that bond.

“I appreciate that, little one, but you really scared me. You could have fallen in the pond without adults here to assist you.”

“The pond?”

“Yes, see that green slime?”

“You mean the vodorosli?”

He straightened in surprise. “What did you say?”

“Mama told me that when I came to the grotto, I was to be very careful to stay away from the vodorosli.”

A chill ran down Barclay’s spine. It was not possible that Natalya had truly visited her … was it?

“Where did you learn that word?”

Tatiana shrugged. “Mama said it last night. She said she could not remember the English word for it.”

Barclay rubbed his fingers over his forehead. His daughter must have heard her mother say it in the past, plucking it from an old memory. He might not be able to think of a situation in which Natalya would have been discussing vodorosli, but that did not mean she had not had an occasion to use the word with Tatiana. “Algae. The English word is algae.”

“Al-gee. That is a funny word!”

Barclay smiled. Their conversation was bizarre but, in an instant, Tatiana was just a little girl again, and her simple view of the world utterly charmed him.

Brushing a frond of silver-blonde hair away from her face, he acknowledged that Tatiana had been right. She needed a mother, and he needed a wife. Not just anyone, but someone who could help him navigate the complexities of emotional intimacy. Someone sensitive to the issues his daughter and his mother faced. Someone sensitive to his own needs. Someone like⁠—

“Jane!”

Snapping his head up, Barclay found Tatiana beaming. She was looking over her shoulder at the entrance of the cave where Jane now stood, a hand resting against the cave entrance while she panted from exertion. Across the pond, Aurora came into view as she stepped out of the woods, evidently following Jane to find them. Both women had their hair bared, apparently having hurried to the grotto without taking a moment to fetch their bonnets.

“Thank … hea … vens!” exclaimed Jane between pants. “I … am so … happy to … see you … Tatiana!”

His daughter wriggled off his lap, landing on the cave floor to race over to Jane and throw her arms about Jane’s waist. “You came!”

“Of course I came … I needed to ensure you were safe.”

“Did you get my note?”

“Your note …? No, I … worked out … where you were. You talked … to me … about reading Aladdin, but it … took me an hour or two … to remember that you called … the grotto your cave of treasures. I would have … remembered earlier … but my head was aching … and I could not think properly, so I searched for you … in all the wrong places before it came to me … Where was the note?” Jane was still recovering her breath, endearing in her haste to find his child safe and well.

“With your strawberries on your breakfast tray. I asked you to meet me here.”

“Oh. I was too tired to make my strawberry water this morning.”

Barclay stood. If there was anything to clarify Jane’s suitability for the role of Tatiana’s mother, certainly her knowledge of the inner workings of his daughter’s mind was a clear sign. Not that the young woman would still consider him eminently suitable after his cloddish avoidance of her.

Nevertheless, he could not help noticing that she was ravishing—if only he could sweep her up in his arms to plant a kiss on her soft mouth, irrespective of his daughter and his mother’s presence.