Chapter 7 - The Cliffside Rendezvous
The sedan rocked gently on its suspension as the engine idled, coughing out a small cloud of gray exhaust into the damp night air. Below the jagged cliff, the dark waves of the Atlantic crashed furiously against the jagged rocks, throwing up white foam that dissolved into the mist. Clara pressed her back against the passenger door, keeping the green ledger clutched against her chest like a shield.
“Why are we here?” Clara asked, her voice maintaining a fragile, disciplined calm that seemed to unnerve the older man.
Julian turned around in his seat, resting his thick forearms against the top of the steering wheel. He studied Clara with a cold, analytical gaze, searching for any sign of the panic he expected from an eight-year-old child. Finding none, a look of grudging respect flashed across his weathered face.
“Because the woman in the red velvet dress—the artist—is waiting for us at the lighthouse down the road,” Julian said, pulling a heavy iron key from his jacket pocket and tossing it onto the center console. “She’s the one who painted that kitchen, Clara. She’s the one who survived the fire you think you don't remember.”
Clara stared at the heavy iron key, its surface pitted with rust and age. A sudden, sharp pain flared behind her eyes—a blinding flash of orange flames, the sound of splintering wood, and the suffocating smell of smoke that had nothing to do with the car engine. She gasped, dropping the green ledger as her hands flew to her temples to block out the invading memories.
“It wasn't a kitchen,” Clara whispered, tears finally spilling over her lashes as the false memories began to fracture and dissolve. “It was the nursery.”
“And Eleanor wasn't your mother,” Julian added quietly, opening his door and stepping out into the howling wind. He walked around to Clara’s side and pulled the door open, offering a weathered, calloused hand. “She was the housekeeper who locked the door from the outside.”
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Before Clara could take his hand or answer, the blinding high beams of a second vehicle swept across the cliffside, pinning them both in a harsh, inescapable glare.
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