Page 39 of Eternal Devotion

“Thank you. I have a lingering headache.” He touched the frames self-consciously. “They help with light sensitivity.”

“Oh. Shit. Should we reschedule?”

“No, no. It’s a minor nuisance. I’ve been looking forward to this.” His smile was slightly more reassuring, if not a touch strained.

“Me too.”

I put the Jeep in gear and took us back into the city. In all the years I’d been in Owen Sound, I hadn’t visited the historic sites.

Despite my research, I’d forgotten to check business hours. It turned out that the Billy Bishop Museum was closed on the weekend.

The Marine and Rail Museum, our second stop, was an important part of the city’s history. It consisted of one small building with a handful of rooms and outdoor exhibits that suffered from a lack of audience on the damp October day.

Regardless, we parked in the mostly vacant lot and paid the nominal fee to look around.

A brisk wind off Georgian Bay buffeted us as we circled old railcars and read information plaques. Mordecai was tense, muscles taut and posture rigid. Strain creased his face and stiffened his jaw. He bypassed most displays and barely engaged conversationally. Considering his desire to learn about the city’s history, he seemed uninterested.

My remarks on the artifacts earned nods of acknowledgment, but he wandered ahead, astutely scouring the landscape with a frown. Maybe his head was bothering him, and he was too embarrassed to say anything.

When the first splatters of icy rain hit my face, I suggested we move on.

In the Jeep, I cranked the heat and peered at the dreary day. October was not a month for sightseeing, and I wasn’t sure where else to go. The local historic parks were out of the question, and I was hard-pressed to suggest a café, considering the debacle that was food.

“Oh. There’s an art museum we can try.” I shifted to face him. “But you don’t seem to be having fun.”

I wanted to believe it was his headache dampening the mood but sensed it was more.

Mordecai stared for a long time out the window at the railcars and the extension of the bay in the distance.

“Mordecai?”

“Sure. Art gallery. Sounds fabulous.” The sentiment couldn’t have been delivered with less enthusiasm.

Sighing, I reached out and removed his sunglasses, drawing his attention. He seemed paler than usual, and that was saying a lot considering the guy had limited pigmentation, but even his lips lacked their usual vibrancy. It could have been the poor lighting, but his hair seemed to lack its customary shine.

Despite the cloudy day, Mordecai squinted, a mark of pain pinching the skin beside his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I went to fit his glasses back on, but he removed them from my hand and set them on the dash.

“It’s fine. They don’t help much anyhow.”

“Headache?”

He made a humming noise that could have meant anything.

“I thought this was something you’d like. You asked about the city’s history.”

“I know.” He raked his teeth over his lower lip and shook his head. “Forgive me. It was the wrong question. Oh, Ensley. I fear I’ve led you astray.”

I wanted to tease him about his formal speech but was no longer in a joking mood. “Astray? I don’t know what that means.”

Mordecai glanced out the rain-spattered window. His energy seemed low. His posture was less adroit.

“Should I take you home?”

“No.” He pinched his eyes closed for a moment before gifting me with a pained smile. “Could we… drive around?”

“Sure… Where am I driving?”