She was leaning over a stone parapet, staring in horror at the crumpled body far below, flooded with panic and confusion.
She could feel the stone, cold against her fingers.
She remembered the hint of perfume that had still lingered in the opulent bedroom, and the way that nausea had boiled inside her and her legs had gone so weak that she’d thought she would collapse. How she’d been unable to remember how the events of the previous night had played out. Her nightmares, always bad, had become far worse and more vivid after that shocking sight, so she’d been unable to tell where dreams ended and memories began.
Cassie thought she’d left that terrified person behind, but now, as the darkness rushed up to swallow her, she understood that the memories, and the fear, had become a part of her.
“No,” she tried to scream, but her own voice seemed to come from a distant, faraway place and all that came out was a ragged, inaudible whisper.
CHAPTER FOUR
“There, take it easy. Just breathe. In, out, in, out.”
Cassie opened her eyes and found herself looking at the deck’s solid wooden floorboards.
She was seated on the soft cushion of one of the wrought-iron chairs, with her head on her knees. Firm hands were grasping her shoulders, supporting her.
It was Ryan, her new employer. His hands, his voice.
What had she done? She’d panicked and made a complete fool of herself. Hastily she struggled upright.
“Easy, take it slow.”
Cassie gasped. Her head was whirling and she felt as if she was having an out-of-body experience.
“You had a serious attack of vertigo there. For a minute I thought you were going to fall over the railing,” Ryan said. “I managed to grab you before you blacked out. How are you feeling?”
How was she feeling?
Icy cold, lightheaded, and mortified by what had happened. She’d been desperate to make a good impression and to live up to Ryan’s praise of her. Instead, she’d screwed up badly and should explain why.
How could she, though? If he knew the horrors she’d been through, and that her ex-employer was facing trial for murder at this very moment, he might change his mind about her and feel that she was too unstable to care for his children at a time when they needed stability. Even a panic attack might be cause for concern.
It would be better to go along with what he’d assumed—that she’d suffered a bout of vertigo.
“I’m feeling much better,” she answered him. “I’m so sorry. I should have remembered that I get severe vertigo if I haven’t been around heights for a while. It does improve. In a day or two I’ll be fine out here.”
“That’s good to know, but you must be careful in the meantime. Are you OK to stand up now? Keep holding my arm.”
Cassie got up, leaning on Ryan until she was sure her legs would support her, and then he slowly walked her back into the family room.
“I’m good now.”
“You sure?” He held her arm a moment longer before letting go.
“Take some time now to unpack, rest up, settle in, and I’ll have supper ready by six-thirty.”
*
Cassie took her time unpacking, making sure her belongings were neatly packed in the quaint white wardrobe, and that her meds were stashed at the back of the desk drawer. She didn’t think this family would go through her stuff when she wasn’t there, but she didn’t want to field any embarrassing questions about the anxiety medications she took, especially after the panic attack she’d had earlier.
At least she’d recovered from the episode quickly, and that must be a sign that her anxiety was under control. She made a mental note to take her nighttime tablets before joining the family for dinner, just in case.
The delicious aroma of cooking garlic and browning meat wafted through the house long before six-thirty. Cassie waited until a quarter past six and then put on one of her prettiest tops, with beadwork around the neck, lip gloss, and a touch of mascara. She wanted Ryan to see her at her best. She told herself it was important to give a good impression because of the earlier panic attack, but when she thought back to those moments on the porch, she found what she remembered most clearly was the feel of Ryan’s toned, muscular arms as he’d held her.
She felt lightheaded all over again when she remembered how strong, yet gentle with her he’d been.
Leaving her room, Cassie nearly bumped into Madison, who was heading eagerly for the kitchen.
“This food smells so good,” Madison told Cassie.
“Is it your favorite dinner?”
“Well, I love spag bol the way Dad makes it, but not when we eat out in restaurants. They don’t do it the same. So I’d say this is my favorite home food, and my second favorite is roast chicken, and my third favorite is toad in the hole. Then when we go out, I love fish and chips, which you get all over the place here, and I love pizza, and I hate hamburgers, which happen to be Dylan’s favorite, but I think restaurant burgers are yuck.”
“What’s toad in the hole?” Cassie asked curiously, guessing it must be a traditional English dish.
“Have you never eaten it? It’s sausages baked in a sort of pie, made with eggs and flour and milk. You have to have it with lots of gravy. I mean, lots. And peas and carrots.”
The conversation had taken them all the way into the kitchen. The wooden table was laid for four, and Dylan was already sitting in his place, pouring a glass of orange juice.
“Burgers are not yuck. They’re the food of the gods,” he countered.
“My teacher at school said they’re mostly cereal and bits of the animals you wouldn’t eat otherwise, ground up finely.”
“Your teacher is wrong.”
“How can she be wrong? You’re stupid to say that.”
Cassie was about to intervene, thinking Madison’s insult too personal, but Dylan got his comeback in first.
“Hey, Maddie.” Dylan pointed a warning finger at her. “You’re either with me or you’re against me.”
Cassie couldn’t work out what he meant by that, but Madison rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him before sitting down.
“Can I help you, Ryan?”
Cassie walked over to the stove, where Ryan was lifting a boiling pot of pasta off the heat.
He glanced at her and smiled.
“Everything’s under control, I hope. Dinner time is T minus thirty seconds. Come on, kids. Grab your plates and let’s dish up.”
“I like your top, Cassie,” Madison said.
“Thank you. I bought it in New York City.”
“New York City. Wow. I’d love to go there,” Madison said, wide-eyed.
“The sixth form economics students went in June on a school trip,” Dylan said. “Study economics, and you might go, too.”
“Does that involve math?” Madison asked.
Dylan nodded.
“I hate math. It’s boring and difficult.”
“Well then, you won’t go.”
Dylan turned his attention to his plate, piling it high with food, while Ryan rinsed the cooking utensils at the sink.
Seeing Madison was looking mutinous, Cassie changed the subject.
“Your dad told me you love sports. What’s your favorite?”
“Running and gymnastics. I quite like tennis, we started it this summer.”
“And you’re a cyclist?” Cassie asked Dylan.
He nodded, piling grated cheese onto his food.
“Dylan wants to be a professional and win the Tour de France one day,” Madison said.
Ryan sat down at the table.
“You’re more than likely going to discover some obscure mathematical formula and get a full scholarship to Cambridge University,” he said, gazing affectionately at his son.
Dylan shook his head.
“Tour de France all the way, Dad,” he insisted.
“University first,” Ryan retorted, his voice firm, and Dylan scowled in response. Madison interjected, asking for more juice, and Cassie poured it for her while the brief moment of discord passed.
Letting their conversation wash over her, Cassie ate her food, which was delicious. She’d never known anyone quite like Ryan, she decided. He was so capable and so caring. She wondered if the children knew how lucky they were, having a father who cooked for his family.