Lucky Stars

by Kristen Ashley

  And he remembered being extremely irritated that, when she was introduced to him, she hadn’t offered him her cheek to kiss and this made him so annoyed, he’d forced that on her.

  And he remembered, practically the moment he met her, he’d manoeuvred her into his arms and, only moments later, he’d had the irrational desire to kiss her.

  And, lastly, he remembered, in the dead of night, only hours after meeting her, when she was standing at his side in his shirt next to his dogs that he already considered her his woman and he remembered he felt a possessiveness unparalleled in his entire history with the opposite sex.

  Therefore, bearing in mind that his history with the opposite sex was considerable, he had to admit that all of this was more than odd. He’d never thought about it, never questioned it, it was simply the way it was.

  However, now, he was forced to think of it and his eyes narrowed on the Scot.

  “I see it’s coming to you, lad,” Angus muttered.

  Jack moved back into the room.

  He hated doing it but he had no choice but to prompt Angus, “Go on.”

  Angus only nodded once then said, “When I say reincarnated, I’m not talking about what people think I’m talking about. What I mean is, Brenna Addison and Joshua Bennett’s souls carried the spirits your and Belle’s souls carry. It isn’t that you’re Joshua and she’s Brenna. You’re you and she’s Belle. But you both carry this spirit, a trace of life on this earth that never dies even when its host does. It lives on with one purpose. It’s always seeking its mate, yearning for it and is only at peace when it finds it.”

  The idea was ludicrous.

  Jack didn’t share this thought but he knew his face showed it because Angus sighed and suggested, “How about we give that time to sink in?”

  Jack wanted to advise him not to hold his breath but Angus wasn’t done.

  “The thing with this is, these spirits, these traces, these bits of life, they seem to be anchored to The Point in some way. Not anchored here for good and ever because, if they were, Belle wouldn’t have Brenna’s trace. But the action is anchored here. What needs to happen is anchored here. Cass and I don’t think it’s been that way through eternity. We think something has anchored those traces here, brought you both here. We think they’re here because they have to be for Myrtle and Lewis.”

  “So, what you’re saying is, Belle, being at least a trace of their mother come back to The Point, can set them free.”

  Angus nodded but said, “Problem is, Myrtle and Lewis have disappeared.”

  Jack stared and asked, “Pardon?”

  “We’ve done reading after reading. There are no ghosts in this house.”

  This, at least, was good news.

  Jack crossed his arms on his chest and replied, “So your work is done.”

  Angus took in a deep breath then he said, “No’ likely, lad. The children were there when Belle fell down the stairs.”

  At this unexpected news, Jack felt his entire frame grow tight.

  “What?” he asked on a menacing whisper.

  “We all saw them. Yasmin got to Belle first. She said they were hovering over her when she arrived.”

  “They hurt Belle?” Jack ground out, knowing his words were insane and not giving a fuck.

  “No, they were upset, shouting for help. I wasn’t paying much attention but, looking back, they seemed scared. Or at least the boy did. Problem is, since they’ve disappeared, we can’t ask them what they saw.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “It means something happened that night. They saw something, something that frightened them and they’ve disappeared. Probably for their own protection. We can’t find them. But they’re not gone because they can’t go. They can’t leave this place unless they’re released. They just don’t want to be found. It isn’t unusual. What’s unusual is that neither Cass nor I can sense them and none of our readings are finding them and we’re both pretty good at this kind of thing.”

  “Now what?” Jack asked.

  “We’ve got to talk to them. Cass felt another entity when we first came to this house. That entity has disappeared too. No traces of him, no signs like he wasn’t even here, like he’s never been here. The children, there are traces of them everywhere. I can feel they’ve been in this room as I’m standing here with you right now. The third entity, we’ve got nothing.”

  “And, this third entity –” Jack started.

  “Is what I think frightened the boy.”

  Jack’s chest grew tight as his mouth murmured, “Caleb Caldwell.”

  “That’s my guess,” Angus agreed on a nod.

  Jack’s chest grew tighter and his voice sounded hoarse when he said, “Belle.”

  “That was my guess too,” Angus replied. “It would be strange, him being here. A ghost has to have some connection with the place it haunts. It has to be a place they spent a lot of time in or the place they died in. But it isn’t unheard of for a ghost to find a connection to someplace integral to something that happened in their life. Even so, we did readings on the top of the stairs, the bottom of the stairs and every step besides. We gave it everything we got. There’s nothing there. No ghost leaves no trace. It’s impossible.”

  Jack, to his sheer disbelief, found himself stating, “We need the children.”

  “Aye, lad, we need the children.” Then Angus shifted uncomfortably and asked, “Has Belle said –”

  Jack cut him off, “We haven’t spoken of it. I assumed she tripped.”

  Angus nodded again. “Aye, and she might think she did even if Caldwell was present. He’d have to trick her into the fall or, say, appear before her and make her lose her balance, something like that. Ghosts can’t touch humans unless they have a spell to give them powers. We’ve got the diary of a local girl. Cass found it in the library in town. I’ll share that with you later. But, as far as we can tell, Caldwell had no dealings with a witch who could give him that power and, even though this diary mentioned a good deal about him, the local girl doesn’t note that he dabbled in the dark arts. To be able to touch Belle, he’d have to have a spell. To be able to banish all trace of himself, he’d have to be very powerful. Although Cass is sure she felt something else, we’ve yet to discover what that was.” He leaned forward. “But, Jack, something scared that wee ghosty lad. Something that made him disappear when he’s had full run of this house for centuries without any indication he feared anything here. We need to call him out.”

  Jack shook his head. “Do whatever you do but Belle and I aren’t moving back to The Point today.”

  Angus threw his head back and hooted before looking at Jack. “Lad, you think we’ve been sitting back drinking whisky and chasing ghosty vibes? Belle’s protected. Cass has got her covered. Cass has got everyone covered. The whole house has so much protection it’d take a powerful coven to break through and, even for them, it’d take days.”

  Jack was far from convinced but before he could share this with Angus, Angus spoke again.

  “I know you don’t believe all I’m saying but believe this, I take my work seriously. My family, for generations, has been doing this work and we all take it seriously. We live it. We breathe it. It’s our legacy. In all my time doing this work I’ve no’ let anyone down and I’ll no’ start with you and I sure as hell will no’ let The Tiny Dynamo down.” He leaned in before he finished, saying, “Do you get me?”

  He certainly sounded serious but Jack didn’t reply. He just held his stare.

  Angus let it go and urged, “Talk to Belle about that night, Jack. We need to know what she saw and what she felt.”

  “And, if there was some other…” he paused and then clipped out the word, “entity, what would you be looking for?”

  “A cold draught is usually the way,” Angus answered. “It could feel like a slight breeze. It could be she saw her breath, like she was out in the chill air. Sometimes the ghosties appear full on, like Myrtle and Lewis like to do. Sometimes it
’s just a feeling. Even if she just had a feeling she wasn’t alone, Cass and I need to know.”

  Jack took a breath in through his nostrils and then he said what he couldn’t believe he had to say.

  “I’ll talk to Belle.”

  Angus smiled his demented smile. “Good lad.”

  Then Jack continued to say what he couldn’t believe he had to say, “I need to get back to Belle but I’ll want a full briefing.”

  Angus didn’t give the slightest indication of smugness. He just nodded and agreed, “Absolutely.”

  Jack nodded back and then he and Angus started back to the morning room.

  They didn’t make it.

  They didn’t because they ran into Miles going the same direction.

  “Miles,” Jack called, his voice curt and he watched his brother turn.

  When Jack saw him, he noted there was something about Miles’s face, something Jack couldn’t quite read but whatever it was, it put Jack on edge and this only intensified when he heard Angus suck in breath behind him.

  Miles rearranged his features and changed directions. Meeting Jack, Miles embraced his brother’s stiff frame.

  “Jack, I’m so sorry,” Miles murmured, clapping him on the back while still embracing then releasing him and stepping away. “Elaine told me you and Belle were here. I thought I’d go –”

  Jack cut him off, “Now’s not the time, Miles.”

  Miles’s face grew tight then his eyes moved to Angus and they grew wide. “And who might you be?”

  “The McPherson,” Angus announced, his booming voice, which Jack had noted in his short time with the Scot always had a warmth underlying it no matter if he was booming, hooting or telling you ridiculous facts about his job.

  Now, Angus’s voice was stone cold.

  “I’ll bet you are,” Miles muttered, humour in his tone and not nice humour.

  “Miles –” Jack started and his brother’s eyes cut to him.

  “I just want to see if Belle’s all right,” Miles stated.

  “I’ll save you the trouble,” Jack told him bluntly. “She’s not. She fell down the stairs, sprained her wrist, gave herself a concussion, split open her temple which called for five stitches and she lost our child. One isn’t ‘all right’ when that happens.”

  “Jack –” Miles began.

  “Time, Miles,” Jack interrupted. “We need time.”

  Miles’s face turned obstinate. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

  Jack lost his patience, leaned toward his brother and clipped, “And I’m telling you the right thing is to give us… some fucking… time.”

  Miles glared at Jack, shifted his glare to Angus then back to Jack and he said tersely, “Tell Belle she’s in my thoughts.”

  “I’ll be certain to do that,” Jack lied.

  Without another word, Miles walked away.

  “Who, on the good God almighty’s earth, was that?” Angus asked, watching as Miles disappeared.

  “My brother,” Jack replied.

  “You’re not close?” Angus asked.

  “Not even a little,” Jack answered.

  Angus pursed his lips as if he was trying to stop himself from talking then he said softly, “Bad seed, lad.”

  “You can say that again,” Jack muttered under his breath and then turned and led the way back to the morning room.

  * * * * *

  After Jack and Belle had coffee with the assemblage, Jack escorted Belle and Lila to the stables. As Lila forged ahead, Jack and Belle walked silently, hand in hand. It wasn’t, Jack was relieved to note, one of their recent tense silences. Instead, Belle seemed more at ease. He knew this because instead of holding her body stiffly away from his, she walked close, her fingers curved around his palm, her shoulder brushing his arm.

  He helped her up to the loft the way he’d done it the first time they were in the stables together, coming up directly after her, his hands under hers on the rails, his frame protectively close to her body.

  Once in the loft, Jack realised that Belle hadn’t protested their ascent. In fact, at the base of the ladder, she’d simply glanced at him, waiting for him to come to her, expecting him to take care of her.

  Instead of celebrating this crowning achievement in one of the myriad ways he would have preferred, he controlled his urge and looked around the loft.

  Jack saw that, since the last time he’d been there, Lila had been busy. She’d taken over the space, swept it clean, there was another table filled with paint tubes and brushes, a bean bag and some rugs and there were half a dozen canvasses tilted against the wall, all of them covered. An unfinished one sat on one of now three easels set up by the sliding doors. And there were snapshots of the view taken at different times of the day and through different weather tacked to the walls.

  The unfinished painting was, Jack was fascinated to see, going to be part of her storm series and even unfinished it was already spectacular.

  After giving Belle a kiss which was more than a brush on the lips, deeper, longer, making a statement but not something which would cause her embarrassment in front of her grandmother, Jack left and went back to the house.

  He found Angus and Cassandra and, in his study, he allowed Cassandra to take his hand.

  The moment she did, Jack watched as she went into a trance for long moments, her eyes unfocussed, her face growing pale.

  Jack’s gaze slid questioningly to Angus but Angus just gave him a nod and Jack waited, although he did so impatiently.

  Finally, Cassandra came back to herself and pulled away.

  Taking a step back, she said decisively, “Yep, mate, you’re Joshua.”

  Jack again looked at Angus then back to Cassandra and found himself saying “So, my soul holds his trace.”

  This, for some bizarre reason, made her laugh.

  When she got control of her hilarity, she shook her head. “No, Jack, you are Joshua.”

  Jack’s eyes sliced back to Angus.

  Angus caught Jack’s look and muttered, “We’ve a professional difference of opinion about what reincarnation means.”

  “I see you gave him that trace business,” Cassandra said to Angus, her voice amused.

  “It’s the way it is, lass,” Angus shot back.

  “It isn’t, Angus. I mean, whoever heard of traces of souls drifting through eternity? That’s rubbish!” Cassandra retorted.

  “And whole beings reincarnated again and again throughout time isn’t rubbish?” Angus returned hotly.

  “Nope,” she replied calmly.

  Angus’s face got redder than its normal red and Jack astutely surmised the Scot was about to blow.

  Jack, thinking both theories were rubbish and also thinking that them having a passionate argument about it was preposterous, was quickly coming to the end of his patience.

  Therefore he cut in, “Are you done with me?”

  Both their eyes came to him and Cassandra said, “For now.”

  Jack nodded, left the room, found Yasmin and asked her a favour to which she agreed. Then he and Yasmin drove to Belle’s cottage and Yasmin packed Belle’s belongings while Jack collected his own and the dogs’. They took them to the car then they took them to The Point.

  Jack collected Belle from the stables, they had a late lunch and, after lunch, she wandered away and disappeared.

  He found her in the library seated in a chair she’d pulled to the window. Her legs were tucked underneath her, a sketchbook was in her hands, a box of coloured pencils on the armrest, the page was blank and she was staring out the window.

  He walked to her, pulled the sketchbook out of her hand, tucked it under his arm then took her hand and pulled her out of the chair.

  She watched him do this as if she was in a trance herself before her body jolted and she started, “Jack –”

  He ignored her, leaned down, grabbed the box of pencils and, his hand still in hers, he guided her to his study.

  There, he dropped her hand and posit
ioned a chair at the window behind his desk. He went back to her, led her to the chair and, with a gentle shove, he pushed her into the seat. He gave her back her sketchbook and pencils and then turned to sit behind his desk.

  As he opened a file, he felt her eyes on him.

  “Jack,” she called softly.

  “Yes, love?” He kept his eyes on the papers in front of him and forced himself not to look at her.

  He was attempting to establish normal. Before the baby died, they hadn’t had time to create a “normal” but, when they did, he had decided this would be it.

  “Nothing,” she whispered.

  Minutes later, when he allowed himself to glance at her because he heard her pencils scratching on her pad, he saw her head was bent and she was drawing.

  He pulled in breath slowly and, just as slowly, he released it.

  And when he did, some of the tightness he’d been carrying in his chest for three and a half weeks released as well.

  They all had dinner together, Jack made certain Belle came with him when he walked the dogs and when they returned, they sat talking with Lila, Joy, Yasmin, Cassandra and Angus.

  When it was clear Belle was ready for bed, most of the others having already left one by one, Jack, his arm around her waist, guided her up the stairs.

  She was Belle and therefore unable to hide her reaction to the stairs which he knew throughout the day she’d avoided. He stayed close, his arm firm around her, his tread steady and they made it to the top after which he heard her let out a little sigh.

  He wanted to give her a squeeze or a kiss, some reward for facing that fear but he didn’t call attention to it and simply led her to their room.

  Now he was lying in their bed on his side, waiting for Belle to finish in the bathroom.

  His eyes were on the door when it opened and she came out, wearing a simple pale green nightgown with thin, satin, pastel blue straps and a matching sheer pastel blue ruffle at the hem which came to mid-thigh. Her hair was down, her cheeks were pink and she was rubbing lotion in her hands. But her eyes, which skittered around the room looking anyplace but the bed, betrayed her nerves.

  And, Jack thought, she never looked more beautiful.