“I haven’t,” he stammered. “This is the first time-”
“Liar!” Howard Young snarled. “You are a liar, Philip!”
Chelsea was sobbing in the back of the room.
“If I had my way,” Mr. Young said, “I’d send you into that room right now, Philip.” He turned away from his nephew, as if he couldn’t bear to look at him. Paula left Philip’s side and helped the old man sit in his chair. “But I don’t have my way,” Howard Young said. “I only have the way that has been passed down to us for eighty terrible years.”
He let out a long sigh. “The lottery needs to take place again.”
He closed his eyes as if he wanted to die right there. Then, with apparent effort, he forced his eyes open again. “Dean,” he asked, “will you draw up a new list of names?”
“No!” Chelsea cried, crumpling to her knees. Ryan stood beside her, his face white with shock and horror.
“Write the name of every Young in this room,” the old man instructed. “And write it only once.”
Philip sat down in front of the fire, his face in his hands.
Carolyn hurried to Douglas’s side.
“I knew it wasn’t you,” she said, no longer worried if the family discovered their relationship. “I knew it wasn’t supposed to be you.”
He smiled wanly. “Oh, but I think it is supposed to be me. Every Douglas Young before me has been called into that room.”
She took his hand in hers.
Dean was writing the names. “Hurry along, Dean,” Howard Young commanded. “It is nearly midnight.”
The old man was once again presented the box.
He took a deep breath and inserted his hand.
Carolyn squeezed Douglas’s hand.
Howard Young looked at the name on the piece of paper he had drawn. “It makes no difference,” he said, almost offhandedly. “Philip’s perfidy was still an act of cowardice and betrayal, one that none of us will ever forget or forgive.”
He handed the paper to Dean, who looked down at it with shock.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking over at Douglas.
“You see?” Douglas tried to smile. “I told you it was meant to be me.”
In the back of the room, Chelsea’s sobs suddenly ceased. Dean returned to his wife, who embraced him. Paula walked over to the window, softly crying. Philip remained on the hearth, his face still in his hands. And Howard Young simply sat in his chair, his face like stone, staring at Douglas.
“Carolyn,” the old man said.
She felt like stone herself. She couldn’t move.
“Place the amulet around Douglas’s neck,” Howard Young instructed. “Then it is time for us to take him downstairs.”
Chapter Twenty-four
The amethyst sparkled as it hung around Douglas’s neck. He looked down at it, fingering it carefully. Then he looked back into Carolyn’s eyes.
“We’ve just got to believe,” he told her.
He had asked his uncle for a moment alone with Carolyn. No questions were asked. Everyone seemed to grasp the truth of their relationship. Everyone had filed out of the parlor, led by the humiliated Philip. Uncle Howie had closed the double doors behind him, but not before cautioning, “We don’t have much time.”
Thunder crashed overhead as Douglas took Carolyn in his arms and kissed her.
“The amulet will protect me,” he whispered in her ear. “Diana said it had great power.”
She nodded against his chest. It was as if she couldn’t raise her eyes to look at him.
“But whatever happens,” Douglas added, “you have got to always believe you did everything you could.”
She finally lifted her beautiful green eyes to his.
“I wish it had been anyone but you,” she admitted. “I wish it had been Philip.”
Douglas shook his head. “It was supposed to be me. Ever since Uncle Howie told me about the room and the lottery, I felt it was going to be me. My father went into that room. My grandfather. My great-grandfather.”
Carolyn clutched at his shirt, pressing her face against his chest once more. The amulet brushed against her. She kissed it for luck.
Douglas’s mind raced back in time, to the day ten years ago when his father stood in this room, no doubt holding his mother much as Douglas held Carolyn now. Douglas had been sound asleep upstairs, unaware of the drama that was taking place beneath him. Mom surely clutched at Dad’s shirt the way Carolyn was doing. She would never be the same after Dad’s death. She had loved him that much.
“I need to know,” Douglas said, kissing the top of Carolyn’s head. “Do you love me? Do you love me the way I love you?”
Carolyn once again lifted her face to look him in the eyes.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, Douglas, I love you.”
They kissed, just as Uncle Howie rapped on the door.
“It’s time,” the old man said, peering inside.
“Yes, okay,” Douglas replied.
“I love you,” Carolyn said again. She wouldn’t move. She just stood there clinging to Douglas.
“I need to go,” he whispered gently.
“I love you,” she said again, as if only now realizing it fully. “I love you! And you love me!”
He gently caressed her cheek with his hand.
Carolyn’s eyes lit up. “That’s it! That’s what she was trying to tell me!”
“Beatrice? Trying to tell you what?”
Uncle Howie stood in the doorway. “We must hurry,” he said.
Carolyn was in a state of agitation. “Love! That’s what it was all about for Beatrice! Remember when Kip recorded her… She was saying ‘love’ over and over again. That’s why she didn’t let Jeanette die! Because she understands a woman’s love! And Jeanette loved Michael!”
Howard Young stood in the doorway, his face hard. “You make no sense, Carolyn. All I know is that it’s time. If we delay, we risk far worse.”
“Listen to me!” Carolyn cried, tugging even more aggressively at Douglas’s shirt. “What will save you more than that amulet is the fact that we are in love! I believe now that Beatrice was a woman in love. Remember what Harry Noons said. She told Clem she wouldn’t marry him because there was someone else. She’s carried that love with her beyond the grave.”
“This is nonsense!” Uncle Howie shouted. “Come along, Douglas! We must go downstairs now!”
“Yes,” Carolyn said, releasing her grip on Douglas’s shirt. “It’s time that Douglas went into the room.” She paused, looking from the old man back to Douglas. “And I am going in with him.”
Chapter Twenty-five
“That is impossible!” Howard Young declared.
Carolyn eyed him fiercely. “There was never any instruction that forbade a non-family member from entering the room, was there?”
The old man struggled for words. “Nothing was ever written. My father had a dream in which he was told to inaugurate a lottery. It was the only way, he was told, to prevent a full-scale slaughter of the family. We would have to sacrifice one a decade so that the rest of us might live.”
“You’ve never revealed that detail before,” Douglas observed.
“What did it matter? All I’ve cared about is finding a way to end this curse.”
“Who gave him the instruction?” Carolyn asked. “Who appeared to him in the dream?”
“He never told us.”
“But whoever it was, there was no prohibition of a non-family member accompanying a family member into the room?” Carolyn asked.
Douglas suddenly gripped her forearm. “No, Carolyn,” he said. “I can’t allow you to go into the room with me.”
“I’m not in any danger,” she assured him. “Never has a non-family member been killed in the whole eighty years of the lottery. And I believe Beatrice’s appearance to me the other night was her assurance that she would protect me.”