Close to Destiny (A Magical Love Story)

Chapter 59

May 25, early morning

A stream of sunshine filtered through the drapes and made its way from the foot of the bed to the feather pillow. Squinting through bleary eyes, I wondered where I was and then quickly remembered the previous night. The images clicked through my mind like a 20-second slide show. I sat up with a start and looked down at the outdated floral-print nightshirt that wasn't mine.

The nightshirt, and the entire bedroom for that matter, smelled of lavender. I was in what seemed to be the former maids' quarters, with a slanted ceiling that dropped low over the mahogany dresser against the side wall. I slipped out of bed and stepped onto the glossy wooden floor.

I still felt wobbly. How many times had I lost consciousness over the past several months? Fainting had always been my reaction to stress, but now, with every day bringing a new surprise, this was getting to be a habit. True, the problem was nothing compared to the years of battling mentally with my weight and a plate of food, but it almost made me feel worse, out of control.

I had to keep moving forward. I had only been able to conquer my illness so far because of Destiny and the unbelievable events she brought into my life. Would this last? Or would I fall back into the cycle of destruction once I had found the final pieces to Destiny's puzzle?

All of these thoughts ran through my head in one big jumble as I walked mechanically around the tiny place. My eyes took in the shelves of porcelain figures, the magnificent chest of drawers that seemed much too imposing for such a room and the narrow window overlooking the street.

And then something caught my attention. Just to the right of the window. An old collage of what looked like family photos. I was once again eye-to-eye with Zachary Taylor. Smartly dressed as usual, he gazed proudly into the camera. The photo seemed to be a professional picture from one of the city's best studios. Zachary posed with the same umbrella he had carried with him the day of our first meeting.

I was beyond any state of shock. For once, I maintained my composure. After all, odd stories had been unfolding ever since I met Destiny. I had to ask Gwen about this. And then I wanted to leave this place. This place that brought me much too close to Destiny.

Gwen placed a porcelain plate with a warm toasted muffin in front of me along with a cup of freshly cut fruit and a jar of raspberry jam that looked homemade. She poured the tea and then sat down next to me.

"I hope you slept well. If I had thought you would faint, I wouldn't have told you everything, Kat. I didn't want to upset you."

"No, don't worry about it." I glanced around the familiar drawing room as I took a sip of Darjeeling. "I've gotten used to it."

"Used to fainting or being upset?"

"Both."

"I know the past few months must have been difficult for you." She shook her head and chewed thoughtfully on a piece of muffin. "Maybe I should have said 'no' to Destiny for once. We shouldn't have brought you here. You were—are—too fragile. I feel as if we took advantage of that. Please don't take this wrong. Most people are too fragile to be bombarded with so much difficult-to-accept information."

"No," I said. "It's best this way. Then it's up to me to decide what I want to believe and what I want to do with my life."

"You have a point."

I took another sip of tea and glanced back at Gwen. It was now or never.

"Gwen, up in the guest room... the photos on the wall. Are they of the family?"

Gwen nodded.

"Yes, they're family photos, from Destiny's mother's side. The Taylors."

"Ah, I see... and that man in the center of the collage is a great, great uncle or grandfather?"

"He was her great, great, great grandfather. I think that's the right number of 'greats.' A very proud and elegant man. But I don't know much more about that side of the family. The Taylors have always been secretive... Would you care for more tea?"

"No, thank you," I said, hardly hearing those final words.

I was too busy putting two and two together. Destiny was a direct heir of Zachary Taylor. Destiny's family owned The Grand East Hotel. That was why no one cared about Gabriel's parties or Destiny's escapades. Of course, Gwen knew more than what she had told me. But I had learned all I possibly could from her about this whole story. She had retreated within and wasn't ready to step out. Sure, she was tired of being part of this plot involving Destiny, Will and me, but there was something more. And she was holding back from me. Something I could never force her to reveal.

Carefully, Gwen stacked our plates and cups onto a little serving tray and dusted a few crumbs off the tea table.

"Can I help you clean up?"

"No, I wouldn't hear of it," she said, waving a hand in the air.

"Isn't there anyone around to help out?"

"No," Gwen said with a sigh. "I'm actually here for the next couple of days to neaten the place up, and then it's going on the market. Who has the time or energy to take care of such a house? Not one other family member wanted to come to get things ready for the real estate agency. As usual, I got stuck." She shrugged and shook her head.

I glanced around the room one last time, trying to memorize every detail of this souvenir of Destiny. Gwen asked if she could call a taxi, but I told her I would rather walk to the tube station. Sadness and loss suddenly overwhelmed me in much the same way they did on the day I found out about Destiny's death.

More than anything else, I needed fresh air and a walk to clear my head. But even that stroll through the beauty of Kensington Square did little to reassure me. The story of Jonathan and Victoria was difficult enough to swallow. How could I possibly believe that I had met with a man who lived 150 years ago and attended parties with Destiny's deceased brother? At this point, I didn't even care that I now knew the true identity of The Grand East's owners and had what I needed to write my article. When a person's gone crazy, what's the importance of such a detail?

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