Caught and Collared: Book One of the Larkspur Series

Chapter Two

Ellie Bellamy left a message on Aden Brand's voice mail. She didn't call herself Ellie when she called. That was the first thing that caught Aden off-guard.

"Hello, Aden. It's Elizabeth – Elizabeth Bellamy. I'm so sorry about your dad. Gale was with the family a long time and his loss is just...I'm sorry, I don't even know what to say. I hope you're hanging in there. When you get this, call me back, okay?"

Aden listened to the message twice before he found the steel necessary to call her back. He had just spent the morning on the phone, first with Patricia, and then with the university, making arrangements. He had to cancel his 10:00am rhetoric and 11:30am gothic literature classes, and ask Dr. Anselm to cover his 1:00pm Russian literature class. He forwarded her all of his lecture notes and PowerPoint slides in an email and thanked her for helping him. Anselm had asked him to cover her classes when her husband was out from work with a broken leg; she owed him this one favor.

If only for the timing, Aden was grateful it was the end of the semester. He had already caught up on the majority of his grading with just a week before final exams. While it wasn't ideal, he knew he could try to make it back to campus in time to hold the tests after the funeral; if not, his students wouldn't mind terribly if he opted to cut the final exam out of their grades and let the final papers stand in its place. It would be a blessing for more than a few of his sleep-deprived undergrads.

Baxter nosed around the kitchen floor idly in search of crumbs or dropped food. Aden sat at the kitchen table with his third cup of coffee, his laptop, and his phone. Ellie's message was still on his voice mail as he weighed his options in open browser tabs, considering funeral arrangements, life insurance policies, and his father's estate. He knew, in the back of his mind, that was partly why she called him: to deal with his father's household, the belongings in the cottage on the grounds of the Bellamy estate. After all, Ellie only called herself Elizabeth when she was nervous. He imagined the position she was now in must have made her nervous.

For as long as Aden could remember, Gale worked as the groundskeeper for the Bellamy family. There was the severe-looking Philip, the family patriarch who sat at the head of his grandfather's company, Bellamy Industries. His wife was Sabine, a socialite's daughter who married young but had her children later in life while she indulged in the aesthetic pursuits of writing, reading, and gardening. They had two daughters: the eldest Celia, who inherited Philip's demeanor as well as his position, and the youngest, Ellie.

Gale and Aden lived in the cottage on the edge of the property, about a half-hour walk from the Bellamy family's sprawling homestead. It was less of a homestead and more of a castle, as Aden recalled. The house was seated on the crest of a hill, a rambling example of neoclassical design that had once served as a plantation house, surrounded by fanning trees and neatly-maintained shrubbery. Aden observed it from afar as a boy, relegated to the groundskeeper's cottage where the endless green lawns turned into woodlands. It didn't look like much during the day, just white pillars and red brick peeking through the trees, but at night, he could see the lights inside like lightning bugs in the dark.

The house where Aden grew up belonged to his father's employers. Inside, it was filled with the artifacts of Gale's life and Aden's childhood. Aden hadn't set foot in the house when he was eighteen. He could only imagine what it must have looked like now. How cluttered, how dusty, how absent of the familiar comforts he remembered from his youth. Gale wasn't the sentimental kind, not in the ways that showed. Even for it, he had amassed a lifetime of possessions, all of which were now sitting on the Bellamy property, waiting to be claimed.

Finally, and after some hesitation, Aden returned Ellie's call. He left the table and stepped through the sliding door to the patio outside, closing the door behind him. It was still cloudy from the previous day's rain, murky and hot. He dialed Ellie's number, sighed, and waited for her to answer.

"Hello?" Ellie said after five rings.

Aden sighed again. He ran a hand through his hair, dark curls still tousled after a night of tossing and turning. It was an anxious gesture, and he was glad she couldn't see it. "Hey, it's Aden Brand."

"Aden, hey," she said, and sounded relieved. "Listen, I'm sorry about your dad. I know I wasn't his biggest fan, but I really am sorry."

He could imagine her tightly knitted brow as she spoke. The soft, sympathetic shape of her mouth; how earnest it must have been at that precise moment, even though Aden's first instinct was to question empathy. Empathy felt a lot like pity, especially coming from a Bellamy. Ellie wasn't like the others in their faraway castle. Her feet touched the ground, if nothing else.

"I know. Thank you. I appreciate it."

"How are you holding up? I know it's a dumb question, so feel free to ignore it."

Aden laughed at that. He tried to, anyway, brittle though the sound was. "I'm alright. That counts for something."

"When's the funeral?"

"I don't know. I haven't gotten that far yet. I'm actually going to call the funeral home later today, once I figure out where it is."

"Keep me posted."

"Sure."

"And, listen, I just wanted to let you know you're welcome back anytime to collect your dad's belongings. There's no rush."

Something spiteful thrummed inside Aden's ribcage. "I assumed I would have to clear that out sooner rather than later."

"When my father was still alive, definitely," Ellie said, her voice matter-of-fact and clear. "Now it's just me up here, taking care of my mother. I'm not going to fault you for being sidetracked, Aden."

"Oh. I'm sorry." It dawned on Aden just how long it had been since they last spoke. "I didn't know."

"Thanks. But it's fine. You know Daddy – no one even knew he was sick until it was too late to do anything about it. Nothing to be done."

Aden didn't know Philip Bellamy. Few people did. Philip liked it that way. Even for it, Aden put a polite smile in his voice and said, "Yes, of course. Your father was...strong, like that."

"Yeah. And, look, I know you have a lot on your plate right now. So if you ever need anything."

"I know. Thank you. And I'll let you know when I'm coming up."

"Good. That's all I want to hear."

Aden paused, then said, "Goodbye, Ellie."

"Goodbye, Aden."

Ellie hung up before he did. Aden fussed with his glasses, ignoring their smudged corners, pacing the area of his small patio. His chest felt heavy. The air felt heavier. The sky made him think of morning over the Bellamy estate, its fresh-cut grass and its green trees. Green everywhere but the big, blooming gardens. They were Sabine's pride and joy, and the sum of Gale's hard work. The gardens were blue and white, with their tall stalks of larkspur. Larkspur had been Sabine's favorite flower: great, towering blossoms that came in brilliant shades of blue.

He hadn't seen larkspur since the last time he was on the grounds, the summer he turned eighteen. The summer he moved in with his grandmother Patricia, and the summer he thought, unwisely, that he was loved. Nothing was quite as blue as Sabine's larkspur at the height of bloom, not before or since.