Her words stopped Theodore in his tracks. But after a moment’s thought, he ignored her and continued leading Penelope back to the car.
Yvonne wasn't about to give up. She ran to his side of the car, pounding on the window.
“Your sister’s death had nothing to do with me! I’m innocent, but you hate me for it. You push me away and ignore my feelings for you. It’s not fair!” she screamed. “I’m looking for the real culprit! When I find them and bring them to you, you won’t hate me anymore. You’ll regret choosing Penelope over me!”
“Theodore, get out of the car! I can tell you right now who it is!”
Listening to Yvonne’s frantic tirade, Penelope felt a sudden chill run down her spine. She didn’t know why.
Theodore remained silent, simply starting the car and driving away.
Just as Penelope thought he was ignoring Yvonne's desperate claims, he made a sharp turn and drove around to the back of the Bishop estate, stopping a few dozen yards from the rear gate.
He didn't dare get any closer, afraid of triggering the memories. But even from this distance, Penelope knew his heart must be aching.
“The thunder was so loud that day,” he murmured. “The wind and the rain were relentless.”
Penelope followed his gaze. Her own mind flashed back to the day she had first come to the Bishop estate. It had been a stormy day, too, with booming thunder and torrential rain. She had been dragged inside, subjected to a barrage of insults and scorn, and then thrown out.
Literally thrown out.
Like a limp doll, tossed into the mud and water.
“Right next to that iron gate,” Theodore continued, his voice heavy. “There used to be a huge sycamore tree there.”
Penelope tried to remember. Was the tree still there on the day she was thrown out? She searched her memory, but the day was a blur of heart-wrenching moments. The presence or absence of a tree was the last thing on her mind.
“It withstood the entire storm,” Theodore said, “but it fell after the sky had cleared.”
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