Mostly Risky, page 13
part #3 of The Women of Ambrose Estate Series
Only I know the truth. Because I now have proof of it in Celeste’s own hand.
In June, Mr. Fontaine sold their ranch and left for San Francisco with his wife. To start over and begin again.
I have never been so glad to see someone gone.
But the wicked curse that Madame Zelana concocted for my family over the last year was never undone. The fortune-teller, with her séances and mutterings from the underworld, disappeared from the village of Ambrose in June. No one knows where she went, but Celeste was sure to give me a dire warning that the Ambrose curse was in effect until someone could break it. She would not tell me how the curse was to be broken. But in July, after she and Mr. Fontaine were safely in San Francisco, I received a letter from the woman. Enclosed was the curse in Madame Zelana’s own hand. Directed by Celeste for our downfall. She never could have loved George if she didn’t care that he died. She only wanted me to suffer for her losses. She could not bear to know that I would have my husband and sons, and she nothing.
Since I cannot stand to look at the curse for one more second, I will write the details in my own words so my progeny will know what to do to save future generations.
Madame Zelana stated that in retribution for the loss of Celeste’s son with George, and for his subsequent betrayal to her, every Ambrose son and father and brother will die. Every Ambrose daughter or woman who marries will also lose her husbands and sons. Arrogance would not save Ambrose Estate from the curse. Only George could have done that, and he had not given in to Celeste. In the end, he shunned her by not running away with her.
These facts confirmed to me—too late—that George had finally broken all association with her. Something I never believed from my husband’s own mouth. Because I was too distrustful.
Celeste was bitter and vengeful. She had allowed her own sins to blacken her soul. She didn’t care what her bitter envy would do to George and his family, the man she professed to love.
This is not love.
This is wickedness at its deepest depth. Madame Zelana states in her vile curse that the only way to break the hold of the curse is for every Ambrose woman to willingly give up, or lose, something they dearly love. If they do not, they too will lose the men they love. The curse was written by Madame Zelana’s own hand and signed with Celeste’s own blood. The devil is in the details.
I am putting this journal and Celeste’s curse in my trunk of mourning clothes. Helen is too young to be told these things yet, but before she is married, I will tell her.
I have vowed to do my part. I will not return to England. I will stay here and run the ranch and estate myself. All those hours of contemplation in the gardens and ruminating on the veranda of the house George and I built together convinced me that I belong here. England holds nothing for me any longer. It has been nearly twenty years, and it would be too difficult to start over.
George worked hard for this estate with my own dowry, and it’s the only way I can honor his memory and have peace within myself.
May God bless my sweet Helen and all the future generations of granddaughters so that Ambrose Estate will live on.
Be brave, Women of Ambrose Estate.
When Grigg finished, Amelia wiped at her cheeks. He reached for the tissue box and handed her a tissue.
“You okay, Mills?” he asked.
She nodded, then turned to face him on the loveseat. “It’s very vague. The way to break the curse. Vague.”
Grigg nodded. The words had been vague: The only way to break the Ambrose curse is for the Ambrose women to willingly give up, or lose, something they dearly love. If they do not, they too will lose their husbands and sons.
“It also doesn’t make sense,” Amelia said.
“How so?” Grigg asked.
“If you have to give up something dearly loved, wouldn’t that be a child or a spouse?” She looked down at the fabric of the loveseat and ran a hand over it.
“Or the sacrifice needs to be another person or thing.”
“Thing?” Amelia lifted her gaze.
“Yes, thing. Is there some thing you dearly love?”
“No . . .” Amelia said in a thoughtful tone. “I mean, I’m not like Sofia with her horses or Lauren with her priceless art collection. I really have no attachments.”
His voice was low when he asked the next question. “Is there someone you love?”
Her gaze flickered from his, and his heart ached. Would she deny her feelings for him? Was he being too presumptuous to think she felt the same way about him as he did about her?
“Mills,” he said in a quiet tone. “Whatever your answer is, I can take it. I told you I wanted to help you, and it’s true. I want to help you. No matter what it means for me.”
She was on the verge of responding when the bedroom door cracked open, and Lillian Ambrose walked into the room. At first Grigg wondered if she’d be upset that he was in Amelia’s bedroom. But her gaze was soft as she stood in the doorway, watching them.
“Gran,” Amelia said. “I didn’t see you there.”
“You’ve read about the curse,” Lillian said.
Amelia looked from her grandma to Grigg. “We have. And I still don’t know how to break it.”
Gran walked toward the loveseat, using her cane for assistance. She settled in the chair across from them, unbothered that Amelia’s bedroom was the location for this discussion.
“You need to look deep inside of yourself, Millie dear,” Lillian Ambrose said. “What is it that you hold close? A thing? A person? An emotion?”
Amelia didn’t know how to answer Gran’s questions. Who did she hold close to her heart? Two people.
She looked at Grigg. She held him close to her heart. Not that she had admitted it yet. And Gran. Amelia held her grandmother close to her heart. Was that what the curse required? That she break up with Grigg?
“Grigg is not who you need to let go of,” her grandmother said, as if she’d read Amelia’s thoughts. “Breaking the curse is what will give the two of you a future together—should you choose each other, of course.”
Amelia’s skin warmed. She would choose him, and just now she realized how much she wanted that option. Not any of the men on her list. She hadn’t even given Peter or Jack a chance, and she never would. Neither of them compared to Grigg in any way. She exhaled. “All right, Gran. What are you saying?”
Gran leaned forward, her blue eyes bright. “You have to lose the thing that is stopping you from progressing and preventing you from enjoying relationships.” Her lips curved. “Let go of your anger, Millie, and forgive your mother.”
Amelia didn’t speak. She couldn’t even move. She only stared at her grandmother. What she was asking was utterly impossible.
“It’s been years since your father’s death, over eight if I can still do math at my age,” Gran said in a gentle voice. “By forgiving your mother, you will be freed. Freed of your anger, freed of your broken heart, and freed of this curse.”
Amelia stood from the loveseat. With Grigg and Gran watching her, she paced the room. This was nothing close to what her half sisters had said they’d lost or given up. Forgiveness was not a tangible thing, was it?
After several moments, she finally turned to her audience and folded her arms. “I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know if it’s possible.”
“Come here, Millie,” Gran said, holding out her hand.
Amelia crossed to her and took the thin, veined hand.
“Forgiveness is possible,” Gran said. “I’ve lived too many years to deny it. Sometimes the first step is forgiving yourself.”
Amelia’s eyes widened. “What do I have to forgive myself for?”
Gran only smiled that knowing smile of hers. “When you start considering the possibilities, you’ll discover many things to forgive yourself for. Such as your part in the deception by your mother.”
Amelia frowned. “My part? I was seven.”
“Yes,” Gran agreed. “You were an innocent seven-year-old child when your father abandoned both you and your mother. She was betrayed, too, you see.”
Amelia folded her arms. “It’s not the same thing.”
“It doesn’t have to be the same thing to understand another person’s hurt and fear,” Gran said. “I am not saying that your mother did the right thing. Not at all. She made a terrible mistake, one that she regrets.”
“Regrets?” Amelia shot out, knowing that her emotions were on the edge. “If Poppy regrets it, she sure hasn’t shown it, to me or to you. She’s been awful to you, Gran. How can you defend her?”
Gran merely nodded. “She has been awful. And she has also been hurt, deeply hurt. When you consider your losses and grievances, also consider hers.”
Amelia turned from Gran and crossed to the bed, then perched on the edge of it. Did Grigg agree with her grandmother? “How can you say that about Poppy? The woman who calls herself a mother? She said horrible things to you just yesterday.”
Gran folded her hands on top of her cane. “Those horrible words are a manifestation of her pain and regret. Some of it stems from how she treated you.”
This only bothered Amelia more. “So now it’s my fault that she’s the way she is?”
“Oh no, that’s not what I meant.” Gran rose to her feet, her limbs surprisingly steady.
Grigg moved to help her, but she waved him off.
Amelia watched her grandmother walk toward her. A beautiful, stately woman who, no matter the crisis, kept a level head.
“Millie dear,” Gran said when she reached Amelia’s side. “This is not something to be solved with a simple conversation. It might take you days or weeks or even years to come to your solution on how forgiveness will work in your life. But I can promise you this, dear: it will be worth it in the end.”
Amelia breathed in, breathed out. Deep inside her broken soul, she knew her grandmother was right. But at this moment, she couldn’t fathom forgiving the woman who’d given birth to her. Amelia closed her eyes, thinking of her lost father, who was buried on the Ambrose property. Along with all the other men and boys.
If it took forgiving Poppy to end this curse, would it be worth it? Of course it would. But getting there was another matter.
Amelia opened her eyes to meet Gran’s steady gaze. “I’ll try,” she whispered. “I can’t promise anything.” She looked at Grigg, and she saw both hope and sorrow in his eyes.
If anything, he knew her history with her mother, so he now knew that there was no free sailing to break the curse made so long ago.
Gran patted Amelia’s hand. “You are doing the right thing, dear. I’m proud of you.”
Amelia swallowed against the tightness of her throat. “Don’t be proud of me yet. I don’t know if I can.”
Gran only nodded. Then she motioned for Grigg to help her out of the room. “I think I’ll lie down for a short while,” she told him as they reached the hallway.
Amelia scanned the bedroom, the beautiful furnishings, the soft, warm colors. How did Gran do it? How had she managed so many family dynamics for so many years, yet extended compassion again and again to the one person who should be the most loyal—her own daughter?
Amelia found her shoes and pulled them on. Then she grabbed a ponytail holder and wrapped her hair into a messy bun. She needed to get out of the house. Walk as far as she could. Find the answers within herself.
Just as she reached the top of the stairs to head to the main floor, Grigg came along the upper hallway.
His eyes widened when he saw her. “Are you leaving?”
“Just for a walk,” she said, but she didn’t miss the relief in his eyes.
He nodded. “Want some company?”
“No.” She knew he was disappointed, but she had a lot to think over without his presence to distract her. So she walked toward him, placed her hands on his forearms, then lifted herself up on her toes to kiss him softly. “Thank you for taking care of me today. And last night. And pretty much all the time.”
His lips curved. “My pleasure.”
“I’ll be an hour or two,” she said. “And I have my cell.”
“Okay.” He ran his fingers across her cheek, then down her neck. “Be safe.”
She nodded, then stepped back. Her heart hitched at the way Grigg stood there watching her. As if he was going to miss her or something.
But Amelia was determined to clear her mind. Everything seemed dependent on the next actions she took, and she had to think through them carefully. Once out of the house, she walked slowly through the back garden. She turned her phone on in case Grigg or Gran needed to get a hold of her.
Then she decided to call Hayden and get things over with once and for all.
He answered on the second ring. “Are you on your way?” he asked without any other preamble.
“On my way where?” she asked, her stomach already knotting.
“To my place,” he said. “Didn’t you get my message? I flew back to Denver this morning. The doctors say that I need to take it easy for about a week, so I need you to help me out—”
“I’m in Texas,” Amelia said quickly, cutting him off. “I told you I had a family emergency.”
“Oh, at your grandma’s? Did she die or something?”
“No,” Amelia said.
Hayden’s entire tone changed from put out to curious. “Is she still running that place?”
Amelia exhaled. “She is.”
“How is she doing?”
Amelia’s heart softened just a tad. She’d nearly reached the end of the garden path, and she paused in a shady spot. “She’s very well. I think she’ll outlast us all.”
Hayden laughed. “You may be right.”
She smiled, but Hayden’s next comment made her smile drop.
“When can you be here?” he asked. “I mean, if everything’s fine with your grandma, then return to Denver to help me out.”
Here it was. The chance to come clean with Hayden. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I need to tell you something, Hayden.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to dump me again?” His voice was hard, edgy, not that she blamed him.
Amelia wanted to backtrack, and she definitely didn’t want to bring Grigg into the middle of it. After all, he had been at their double date. “Over this past week, I realized that I need to take a step back from everything.” This was mostly true, right? “So many things have changed recently in my life, and I need to take the time to let those things settle.”
“What are you talking about?” Hayden asked, his tone definitely upset. “You called me. You asked me out.”
Amelia began to walk again, leaving the garden and walking toward the cemetery the long way. “I know, and I’m glad we got together. For what it’s worth, it was good seeing you again. I just . . . I wanted to see you so that I could find out if there was anything between us still.”
Hayden’s laugh was bitter. “And now that I need you, need some help, you’re copping out on me.”
“It’s not like that,” Amelia protested.
“You’re a piece of work, Amelia Ambrose,” Hayden spat out. “You’re a tease, you know that, and that’s about the worst thing a woman can be.”
Anger and guilt battled it out in Amelia’s heart. She had called him. She had given him hope. But still. “I didn’t mean to lead you on, Hayden,” she said. “It was one date, though. A casual date at that. I don’t think I’m a criminal for asking you out and then not wanting to continue to see you.”
Hayden didn’t speak for so long that Amelia wondered if he’d hung up. But when she checked her phone, the line was still active. “Hayden?”
“I’m not going to let you get away with this,” he said at last, his tone cold.
“What are you talking about?” A slow chill had crept up her spine, and her mind raced. Was Hayden threatening her? Or was he just saying stupid stuff because he was upset? Or maybe he was on some sort of painkiller?
He didn’t answer. This time the line went completely silent. He’d hung up.
Even though the sun was warm overhead, the chill remained as Amelia continued toward the cemetery. She didn’t know how to read into Hayden’s comment. She didn’t think he was dangerous or violent or a stalker or anything. Well, maybe he’d been a little obsessive last time they’d called things off. He had kept reaching out to her for a couple of weeks.
It wasn’t like their paths would naturally cross anyway. He’d have to deliberately seek her out to see her. And that gave Amelia a little comfort, because she didn’t think Hayden would go that far. Besides, he was a university professor. Well educated, successful in his field, intelligent. He was just in a rough patch.
Amelia pocketed her phone and continued into the graveyard. She walked among the headstones, thinking about what Gran had counseled her to do. Was that really the answer? Forgiving Poppy?
Amelia didn’t see how it was possible. Could she just say, “I forgive you,” to Poppy and be done with it? No. Of course not.
She walked to her father’s headstone. As the trees whispered above her and the breeze stirred the grass at her feet, she wondered what her dad’s opinion was in all of this. Why had he left Poppy in the first place? Okay, so maybe Amelia could deduce that reason. Marrying a woman with three children already would have been a difficult life.
But why had her father left his little girl? He’d sent her letters—this she found out later, after the Great Confrontation. Amelia still had the letters from her dad, written simply to the seven-year-old girl that she was at the time.
Since she never wrote him back, thinking he was dead, the letters had stopped after a few months. What had her dad thought of her?
Amelia sat cross-legged in front of the headstone and picked at the cool blades of grass. Rubbing them between her fingers, she thought of her dad’s feelings. Something she hadn’t considered before. Yes, he’d left a bad marriage, but his own daughter hadn’t ever responded to his letters. Granted, Amelia was seven, but she’d been a good writer and reader even at that age.
“I didn’t abandon you, Dad,” Amelia whispered to the headstone bearing her father’s name. Tears pricked her eyes. “Mom betrayed us both. First she drove you off, then she kept us apart. Forever.”
