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Almost Lost

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.

After dinner, she volunteered to do the cleaning up, which mainly involved loading the large, state-of-the-art dishwasher. Ryan explained that the children were allowed an hour of TV after dinner if their homework was finished, and that he turned off the Wi-Fi at bedtime.

“It’s harmful for these screenagers to text on their phones all night,” he said. “And they will, if the opportunity is there. Bedtime is sleep time.”

When eight-thirty arrived, the two children went to bed obediently.

Dylan gave her a brief “Good night” and told her he’d be up very early in the morning to cycle around the village with his friends.

“Do you want me to wake you?” Cassie asked.

He shook his head.

“I’m good, thanks,” he said, before closing his bedroom door.

Madison was chattier, and Cassie spent some time sitting on her bed, listening to her ideas of what they might do tomorrow and what the weather would be like.

“There’s a sweet shop in the village and they sell the most beautiful striped candy bars that are like small walking sticks and taste of peppermint. Dad doesn’t often let us go there, but maybe he’ll let us go tomorrow.”

“I’ll ask,” Cassie promised, before making sure the young girl was settled for the night, bringing her a glass of water, and turning out her light.

As she closed Madison’s door gently, she remembered her first night at the previous job. How she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep, and had been late to respond when the youngest child had experienced a nightmare. She could still feel the pain and shock of the stinging slap she’d earned as a result. She should have walked out right then, but she hadn’t.

Cassie was confident that Ryan would never do such a thing to her. She couldn’t imagine him even giving a verbal admonishment.

Thinking of Ryan, she remembered about the glass of wine on the outside verandah, and she hesitated. She was tempted to spend more time with him but not sure if she should.

Had he meant it when he said she would be welcome to join him? Or had he offered out of politeness?

With indecision still churning in her mind, she found herself pulling on her thickest jacket. She could test the waters, see how he responded. If he didn’t seem to want company, she could stay for a quick drink and then go to bed.

She headed down the hallway, still agonizing over her decision. As an employee, it wasn’t right to have a glass of wine with her employer after working hours—or was it? If she wanted to be totally professional, she should go to bed. However, with Ryan being so accommodating about her lack of a visa, and promising to pay her cash, the lines of professionalism were already blurred.

She was a family friend, that’s what Ryan had said. And sharing a glass of wine after dinner was exactly what a friend would do.

Ryan seemed delighted to see her. Relief and excitement uncoiled inside her as she saw his warm, genuine smile.

He stood up and took her arm and walked her across the verandah, making sure she was safely settled in a chair.

She saw with a skip of her heart that he’d set an extra wineglass out on the tray.

“Do you like Chardonnay?”

Cassie nodded. “I love it.”

“Truth be told, I don’t have a good palate for wine and my favorite is an ordinary rough red, but this excellent case was gifted to me by a grateful client after a successful fishing trip. I’ve been enjoying working my way through it. Cheers.”

He leaned over and touched his glass to hers.

“Tell me more about your business,” Cassie said.

“I started South Winds Sailing twelve years ago, just after Dylan was born. Having him come into the world made me rethink my purpose, and what I could offer my children. I spent three years in the Royal Navy after school, eventually becoming a merchant navy deck officer. The sea’s in my blood and I’ve never imagined living or working inland.”

Cassie nodded as he continued.

“When Dylan was born, tourism in this area was starting to boom, so I handed in my notice—at that stage I was the site manager at a shipyard in Cornwall—and bought my first boat. The second followed soon, and today I own a fleet of sixteen boats of various shapes and sizes. Motorboats, sailboats, paddleboards—and the jewel in my crown is a new charter yacht which is popular with corporate clients.”

“That’s amazing,” Cassie said.

“It’s been a fantastic journey. The business has given me so much. A comfortable income, a wonderful life, and a beautiful home, which I designed according to a dream I’d always had—although thankfully the architect toned down the wilder elements, or the house would probably have fallen over the cliff by now.”

Cassie laughed.

“Your business must take a lot of hard work,” she observed.

“Oh, yes.” Putting his glass down, Ryan stared out at the sea. “As a business owner, you make constant sacrifices. You work extremely long hours. I seldom have a weekend off; today I asked my manager to stand in for me because I was meeting you. I think that’s why—”

He turned toward her and met her gaze, his face serious.

“I think that’s why my marriage eventually failed.”

Cassie felt a tingle of anticipation that he was opening up to her about it. She nodded in sympathy, hoping he would keep on talking, and after a while, he did.

“When the children were younger, it was easier for Trish, my wife, to understand that I had to put work first. But as they grew older and became more independent, she started wanting me to—well, to replace their presence in her life, I guess. She demanded emotional support, time, and attention from me at an excessive level. I found it draining, and it started causing conflict. She was a strong woman. That was what first drew me to her, but people can change, and I think she did.”

“That sounds very sad,” Cassie said.

Her glass was almost empty, and Ryan refilled it before topping off his own.

“It was devastating. I can’t explain what a tumultuous time it’s been. When you love someone, you don’t let go easily, and when love goes, you search nonstop for it. Hoping, praying, that you can get back what you valued so highly. I tried, Cassie. I tried with everything I had, and when it became clear it wasn’t working, it felt like a defeat.”

Cassie found herself leaning toward him.

“How scary that can happen.”

“You picked the right word. It’s terrifying. It left me feeling inadequate, and very much adrift. I don’t take commitment lightly. To me, it means forever. When Trish left, I had to redefine my own impression of who I was.”

Cassie blinked hard. She could hear the anguish in his voice. The pain he was going through sounded fresh and raw. It must take immense courage, she thought, to hide it under a joking and lighthearted exterior.

She was about to tell Ryan how much she admired him for the strength he was showing in adversity, but stopped herself just in time, realizing that this comment was far too forward. She barely knew Ryan, and had no right to make such personal observations to an employer after only a couple of hours in his company.

What was she thinking—if she was thinking at all?

She decided that the wine was going to her head and that she must choose her words carefully. Just because Ryan was so good-looking, intelligent, and kind was no reason to behave like a star-struck teenager around him. It had to stop, because she would only end up embarrassing herself dreadfully, or worse.

“I guess I’d better let you go to bed now,” Ryan said, putting his empty glass down. “You must be exhausted after the drive, and meeting my two hooligans. Thank you for joining me out here. It means a lot to be able to speak to you like this.”

“It’s been an enjoyable end to the day, and such a lovely way to relax,” Cassie agreed.

She didn’t feel relaxed at all. She felt amped up by the intimacy of their conversation. As they stood up and headed inside, she couldn’t stop thinking about what he had shared with her.

Back in her room, she took a quick look at her messages, feeling grateful that this house was connected to the Internet. At her last workplace, there had been no cell signal, and it had led to her becoming completely isolated. Until it happened, she hadn’t realized how scary it was not to be able to communicate with the outside world when she needed to.

On her phone, Cassie saw there were a couple of hellos, and one or two memes from friends back in the US.

Then she saw one other message had been sent earlier in the evening. This one was from an unfamiliar UK cell phone number, which raised alarm bells when she saw it, and as she opened it, she felt cold fear clench her stomach.

“Be careful,” the short message read.

CHAPTER FIVE

Cassie had expected to sleep well in her cozy room with the only sound the wash of surf outside. She was sure she would have, if it hadn’t been for that disconcerting message, sent from an unknown number while she had been sitting out on the verandah with Ryan.

Her first panicked thought was that it concerned her ex-employer’s murder trial; that somehow she’d been implicated and people were hunting for her. She tried to check the latest news, but found to her frustration that Ryan had turned the Wi-Fi off already.

She tossed and turned, worrying about what it could mean and who had sent it, trying to reassure herself that it was probably a wrong number and had been meant for somebody else.

*

After a restless night, she managed to drift into an uneasy sleep, and was woken by the sound of her alarm. She grabbed her phone and found to her relief that the signal was back.

Before she got out of bed, she searched for news on the trial.

Cassie learned that a postponement had been requested and it was due to resume in two weeks. Researching more carefully, she discovered this was because the defense team needed more time to contact additional witnesses.

That made her feel sick with fear.

She looked again at the strange message, “Be careful,” wondering if she should reply to it and ask what it meant, but sometime during the night the sender must have blocked her because she found she couldn’t send a message back.

In desperation, she tried to call the number.

It cut off immediately. Her calls had clearly been blocked, too.

Cassie sighed in frustration. Cutting off communication felt more like harassment than a genuine warning. She was going to go with it being a wrong number, which the sender had realized too late and blocked her as a result.

Feeling marginally comforted, she got out of bed and went to wake the children.

Dylan was already up—Cassie guessed he must have gone cycling. Hoping he wouldn’t think it an intrusion, she went in, straightened up his duvet and pillows, and collected his discarded clothes.

His shelves were crammed with a huge variety of books, including quite a few on cycling. Two goldfish swam in a tank on top of the bookcase, and on a big table near the window was a rabbit hutch. A gray rabbit was eating a breakfast of lettuce and Cassie watched it happily for a minute.

Leaving his room, she tapped on Madison’s door.

“Give me ten minutes,” the young girl replied sleepily, so Cassie headed for the kitchen to get a start on breakfast.

There, she saw that Ryan had left a wad of money under the salt shaker with a handwritten note, “I’ve gone to work. Take the kids out and have fun! I’ll be back this evening.”

Cassie put a round of bread in the pretty floral toaster and filled the kettle. As she was busy making coffee, Madison walked in, wrapped in a pink robe and yawning.

“Good morning,” Cassie greeted her.

“Morning. I’m glad you’re here. Everyone else in this house gets up so early,” she complained.

“Can I get you coffee? Tea? Juice?”

“Tea, please.”

“Toast?”

Madison shook her head. “I’m not hungry yet, thanks.”

“What would you like to do today? Your dad told us to go out somewhere,” Cassie said, pouring tea as Madison requested it, with a splash of milk and no sugar.

“Let’s go into town,” Madison said. It’s fun on the weekend. There’s lots to do.”

“Good idea. Do you know when Dylan will be back?”

“He usually goes for an hour.” Madison cupped her hands around her mug and blew onto the steamy liquid.

Cassie was impressed by how independent the children seemed to be. Clearly, they were not used to being overprotected. She guessed the village was small and safe enough for them to treat it as an extension of their home.

Dylan arrived back soon afterward, and by nine they were dressed and ready to depart on their outing. Cassie assumed they’d take the car, but Dylan warned her against it.

“It’s difficult to find parking on the weekend. We usually walk down—it’s only a mile and a half—and take the bus back. It runs every two hours so you just have to time it right.”

The walk down to the village could not have been more scenic. Cassie was charmed by the shifting views of the sea and the picturesque houses along the way. From somewhere in the distance she could hear church bells. The air was fresh and cool, and breathing in the smell of the sea was pure pleasure.

Madison skipped ahead, pointing out the houses of people she knew, which seemed to be almost everybody.

A few of the people driving past waved at them, and one woman stopped her Range Rover to offer them a ride.

“No thanks, Mrs. O’Donoghue, we’re happy walking,” Madison called. “We might need you on the way back though!”

“I’ll look out for you!” the woman promised with a smile before pulling away. Madison explained that the woman and her husband lived further inland and ran a small organic farm.

“There’s a shop selling their produce in town, and they sometimes have homemade fudge, too,” Madison said.

“We’ll definitely go there,” Cassie promised.

“Her kids are lucky. They go to boarding school in Cornwall. I wish I could do that,” Madison said.

Cassie frowned, wondering why Madison would want to spend any time away from such a perfect life. Unless, perhaps, the divorce had left her feeling insecure and she wanted a bigger community around her.

“Are you happy at your current school?” she asked, just in case.

“Oh, yes, it’s great apart from that I have to study,” Madison said.

Cassie was relieved that there didn’t seem to be a hidden problem, such as bullying.

The shops were as quaint as she’d hoped. There were a few stores selling fishing tackle, warm clothing, and sports gear. Remembering her hands had been cold while drinking with Ryan the previous night, Cassie tried on a beautiful pair of gloves, but decided in view of her finances and her lack of available money, it would be better to wait and buy a cheaper pair.

The smell of baking bread drew them across the road to a cake shop. After some discussion with the children, she bought a sourdough loaf and a pecan pie to take home.

The only disappointment of the morning was the sweet shop.

When Madison marched expectantly up to the door she stopped, looking crestfallen.

The store was closed, with a handwritten note taped to the glass which read, “Dear Customers—we’re out of town this weekend for a family birthday! We’ll be back to serve you your favorite delicacies on Tuesday.”

Madison sighed sadly.

“Their daughter usually runs the shop when they’re away. I guess everyone went to this stupid party.”

“I guess so. Never mind. We can come back next week.”

“That’s so far away.” Head lowered, Madison turned away and Cassie bit her lip anxiously. She was desperate for this outing to be a success. She had been imagining how Ryan’s face would light up as they spoke about their happy day, and how he might look at her with gratitude, or even give her a compliment.

“We’ll come in next week,” she repeated, knowing that this was little consolation to a nine-year-old who’d believed peppermint candy sticks were in her immediate future.

“And we might find sweets in other shops,” she added.

“Come on, Maddie,” Dylan said impatiently, and took her hand, marching her away from the shop. Ahead, Cassie noticed the store that Madison had told her about, owned by the woman who’d offered them a ride.

“One last stop there, and then we decide where to have lunch,” she said.

Thinking of healthy suppers and snacks ahead, Cassie chose a few bags of chopped vegetables, a bag of pears, and some dried fruit.

“Can we buy chestnuts?” Madison asked. “They’re delicious roasted on the fire. We did that last winter, with my mum.”

It was the first time either of them had made mention of their mother and Cassie waited anxiously, watching Madison to see if the memory would cause her to become upset, or if this was a sign she wanted to talk about the divorce. To her relief, the young girl seemed calm.

“Of course we can. That’s a lovely idea.” Cassie added a bag to her basket.

“Look, there’s the fudge!”

Madison pointed excitedly and Cassie guessed the moment was over. But having mentioned her mother once, she had broken the ice and might want to talk more about it later. Cassie reminded herself to be responsive to any signals. She didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to help either of the children through this difficult time.

The bags were displayed on a counter near the till, together with other sweet treats. There were toffee apples, fudge, mint humbugs, small bags of Turkish delight, and even miniature candy sticks.

“What would you like, Dylan and Madison?” she asked.

“A toffee apple, please. And fudge, and one of those candy sticks,” Madison said.

“A toffee apple, two candy sticks, fudge, and Turkish delight,” Dylan added.

“I think maybe just two sweets each for you will be enough or it’ll spoil your lunch,” Cassie said, remembering that excessive sugary treats were discouraged in this family. She took two toffee apples and two packets of fudge from the display.

“Do you think your father would like anything?” She felt a rush of warmth inside her as she spoke about Ryan.

“He likes nuts,” Madison said, and pointed to a display of roasted cashews. “Those are his favorite.”

Cassie added a bag to her basket and headed for the till.

“Afternoon,” she greeted the shop assistant, a plump, blonde young lady with a name tag that read “Tina,” who smiled at her and greeted Madison by name.

“Hello, Madison. How’s your dad? Is he out of hospital yet?”

Cassie glanced in concern at Madison. Was this something she hadn’t been told about? But Madison was frowning, confused.

“He hasn’t been in hospital.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood. When he was last here, he said—” Tina began.

Madison interrupted her, staring at the cashier curiously as she rang up the purchases.

“You’ve got fat.”

Horrified by the tactlessness of this comment, Cassie felt her face going as crimson as Tina’s was doing.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled in apology.

“That’s all right,”

Cassie saw Tina looked crestfallen at the comment. What had gotten into Madison? Had she never been taught not to say such things? Was she too young to realize how hurtful those words were?

Perceiving that no more apologies would redeem the situation, she grabbed her change and hustled the young girl out of the shop before she could think of anything else tactless and personal to announce.

“It’s not polite to say things like that,” she explained, when they were out of earshot.

“Why?” Madison asked. “It’s the truth. She’s much fatter than when I saw her in the August holidays.”

“It’s always better not to say anything if you notice something like that, especially if other people are listening. She might have a—a glandular problem or be taking medication that makes her fat, like cortisone. Or she could be expecting a baby and not want anyone to know yet.”

She glanced at Dylan on her left, to see if he was listening, but he was rummaging in his pockets and seemed preoccupied.

Madison frowned as she thought this over.

“OK,” she said. “I’ll remember for next time.”

Cassie let out a deep breath of relief that her logic had been understood.

“Would you like a toffee apple?”

Cassie passed Madison her toffee apple, which she put into her pocket, and handed the other to Dylan. But when she gave it to him, he waved it away.

Looking at him in disbelief, Cassie saw he was unwrapping one of the candy sticks from the store they’d just visited.

“Dylan—” she began.

“Ah, no, I wanted one of those,” Madison complained.

“I got you one.” Dylan reached into the deep pocket of his coat and to Cassie’s horror, pulled out several more.

“Here,” he said, and passed her one.

“Dylan!” Cassie felt suddenly short of breath and her voice sounded high and stressed. Her mind was racing as she struggled to take in what had just happened. Had she misread the situation?

No. There was no way Dylan could have bought the candy. After Madison’s embarrassing comment, she’d hustled them straight out of the store. There hadn’t been time for Dylan to have paid, especially since the assistant hadn’t been very adept at working the old-fashioned till.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking at her inquiringly, and Cassie felt chilled by the fact that there was no trace of emotion in his pale blue eyes.

“I think—I think you might have forgotten to pay for that.”

“I didn’t pay,” he said casually.

Cassie stared at him, shocked beyond words.

Dylan had just coolly admitted to having shoplifted goods.

She’d never imagined that Ryan’s son would do such a thing. This was beyond the scope of her experience and she was at a loss to know how she should react. She felt shaken that her impression of a perfect family, which she’d believed in, was far from reality. How could she have been so wrong?

Ryan’s son had just committed a criminal act. Worse still, he was showing no remorse, no shame, nor even any sign that he understood the enormity of his action. He stared back at her calmly, seeming unconcerned by what he had done.