Chapter Two - Part One

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CHAPTER TWO

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Within the next several days, I settled myself comfortably inside the manor. In fact, I had actually reached a point where the other staff could finally look me in the eye, and I no longer needed Mrs. Trentley to chaperone me from room to room.

While I spent a good deal of time getting acquainted with the rest of the house, and the grounds, I also spent a good deal of time holed away in my new bedroom. It was a room that I had grown fond of, and I took comfort in its beauty, using my free time to while away in its serenity.

The floors, ceiling and walls were made of marble, like the rest of the house. But the furniture and decorations in here were all a soft, rosy-pink color. My king size-bed frame was elaborately carved from some rare, white wood. Drapes of a gauzy pattern were attached to the four canopy posts of the bed, with a draw strong at the headboard to let them swing down to shroud the bed. There were two matching night stands, with a rose-colored lamp on each, with a dresser to go with them. It sat by against the wall by the door, carved in the same white wood, with a large square mirror that lay against the wall above.

But the majority of the time I spent within my room, was spent enjoying a magnificent view of the backyard. There were large, nearly floor-to-ceiling length windows that framed either side of wall behind my bed. They were window seats right below them too, with deep cushions with the same rosy coloring as well.

I also had a walk-in closet that was large enough to run and hide in, along with a connecting bathroom that was the size of a small living room. And the marble shower within came complete with several heat controlling heads that could detach from their homes along the spotless walls to deposit soap or shampoo in your hands, depending on what button you pressed. I took a shower in it once, but decided I preferred the large, claw-footed tub better after I realized that if you dropped your soap bar in the shower, the area was large enough to claim it from you for ten whole minutes while you struggled to find it.

But all the while, I had the strangest, growing feeling that losing my shower was only the lightest price that I would have to pay for being introduced to such an extravagant lifestyle.

*  *  *

One early morning, I was awakened by a familiar, routine knock on my bedroom door. Rolling over groggily, I called out a hello and gave the caller my permission to enter.

“Breakfast in a half hour, Naomi. Did you sleep well?”

Mrs. Trentley crossed the room and began busying herself with opening the thick, ruffled curtains that adorned the windows.

“I did, thanks.” I replied sleepily, with a yawn, and pushing matted hair from my face. “But it was a little cold last night, Mrs. Trentley. I think there’s a draft in the room.”

“Well, I’ll have Archie take a look for it then. By the way, Ethan Raines is swimming in the pool.”

“Sure, sounds good…” I replied, sitting up and stretching “Wait. What?”

I sprang from the bed to join Mrs. Trentley, where she stood at one of the windows, peering between a crack in the thick, heavy blinds. I follow suit and quickly discovered that indeed, there was a tan, lean figure doing lazy laps through the water, as if he were perfectly within his right to be there.

“He hasn’t been there long.” Mrs. Trentley said. “The security camera’s picked him up about ten minutes ago, but I haven’t had the time yet to look through the footage to see how it was he got in.”

“That’s easy.” I said mildly, still absorbed in the view. “The bars have enough space in between to keep people out, but not animals. They could slip right in… But what would Ethan Raines be doing, swimming in my pool, I wonder?”

“Oh, looking for attention, I would imagine.” Mrs. Trentley replied, with what was clearly a strong look of approval for the young man’s solid physique. “Ethan happens to belong to another very prominent family in Harbor, and his father – Mathew Raines – works for your grandfather.”

“And I’m guessing that the apple didn’t fall very far from the tree?” I said, watching sideways as Ethan momentarily ducked below the water to break its surface, deliciously.

“It’s more like the apple never fell at all.” Trentley said mildly, letting go of the blinds. “Should I have him escorted from the property?”

I thought about this for several moments, before answering as I finally let go of the blinds too.

“No, Mrs. Trentley, not this time. Instead, give him a towel, please, and if he’s still there in fifteen minutes, then let’s invite him to breakfast.”

“Very well. Anything else?”

“Yes – my father’s autopsy records. If you have time to leave the house today, I’d like those too please.” And I proceeded to head to the closet and rifle through my clothes; it was abysmally slim pickings in there.

“His autopsy records?” she repeated, as if confused.

“Oh – and a copy of the police report for his death? I’ll be needing that too.”

“And what in heavens for, Naomi?”

“Because I have reason to believe that his death wasn’t naturally caused.” I replied calmly, turning to face her. She stood there in her clean, pressed uniform, and her nonsense shoes, but suddenly her face was anything but arranged. And she seemed to pass through a series of emotions before she managed find her normal composure again. But a flawless intuition told me that I had made the right choice by confiding in her.

I needed allies for the intentions I had.

“Why would you think that? Naomi, he died of a heart attack.” she said a condescending kindness that annoyed me, severely.

“Jack Noble was thirty-six years old when he died a year ago.” I said, struggling to maintain my poise. I had to remind myself that she was not an enemy here, and had cared for my father.

“He was a lycanthrope, Mrs. Trentley. He was in peak, physical condition and of a sound mentality. He ate healthily – he liked fruits and vegetables and red meat. He took vitamins and protein shakes and refused to drink soda. He ran five miles a day, every day, rain or shine, healthy or sick, so he did not die of just a heart attack.”

By the end of my speech, I was angry and a little breathless, because I had loved my father, and deeply. He was the only member in my biological family that had ever taken the time to reach out to me over the lonely years of my childhood. So there were portions of his letters that I could recite verbatim, with each word resonating in my mind as peacefully as a guitar chord. Yes, this was how I would remember Jack Noble – through strong, loopy script that dictated to me his exact feelings.

But my point was that I had loved my father, but I had also known him too, and just as well as anyone. Which is why I could presume such an awful scenario, terrible as it was.

“Mrs. Trentley, he never said it outright, but I think that my father was afraid something bad would happen to him. With every letter that he wrote, he had this sad way of making it sound as if it would be his last. I remember when he once begged for my forgiveness. He said that he had given me up, because he needed to protect me. But no matter how many times I asked, he refused to ever clarify what it was he thought he was protecting me from. And this secret, whatever it is that he was trying to hide… I’m worried that it might have been what really killed him.

I ended there and stared despondently out the window, where the sun wasn’t shining and the bees weren’t buzzing but a man was still drifting in my frigid swimming pool.

“Well then, I’ll get it done fast.” Mrs. Trentley said quickly, wiping her eyes as she left the room.

And though it caused me sorrow to admit, I knew hers wasn’t the only heart that I would break with the truth.

*  *  *

I showered, and dressed quickly, giving myself enough time for an once-over from the mirror above my dresser. I had an idea that my friend from the pool would be joining me for breakfast, and considering the fact that he was my first official guest at the manor, I wanted to make some sort of expression.

I wasn’t terribly tall – only five foot two in height – with a thin face and a chin that came to a point. My eyes were green, and framed with lashes that I had always felt were woefully short. I had thin brows that were plucked from time to time, with a small nose and full, heart-shaped lips. And when loose, my thick brown hair fell, in waves, to the middle of my back. I wore it down then too, and though it was still tightly curled from the wash in the shower, I knew that the curls would loosen more, after they had dried.

But even though I was fully aware of my own beauty, my looks had never much concerned me. Actually, what was fascinating, was being able to stare into the mirror and catch flashes of familiar faces. Through rare pictures that I had collected of both my parents, I knew that Jack was Caucasian and that my mother was African American, which had lent a hand in toning my skin to a mocha color. And there were little pieces of them both, reflected there in the mirror, causing me to wonder, as usual which parent that I was most similar to.

Suddenly realizing that the time was passing me by, I swept up my damp hair into a loosely piled bun on the top of my head. Quickly, I applied eye liner and mascara with a thin smattering of eye shadow, and clear lip gloss. And satisfied with my choice of cut-off denim shorts with my thin, black, mesh sweater with the white tank top underneath, all that was left were my well-loved, red Converse.

But I figured that if Naomi Campbell could own the catwalk in a pair of high heels, then Naomi Noble could certainly run Harbor in a pair of high tops.

Or so I hoped.

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