by Cat Johnson
“I know,” she agreed. “It looks like she started as a teenager and kept it up until she died. She was obsessed. Thank God, because it’s really a treasure trove.”
“Of dusty old books filled with clippings of the police blotter and obituaries from the local paper,” I said as I angled the pages of one so the overhead light shone on it.
Her idea of a treasure trove and mine were obviously different.
“No. There’s more. Programs from local events. Chamber of Commerce dinners. Concerts. Plays. Invitations. Deeds. Maps.”
“Deeds?”
She nodded. “Yup. Even a last will and testament.”
“Hers?” I asked.
“No. Her father’s.”
“Huh. Okay, I guess that is kind of interesting.” But I was done with it for now because there was something in that attic that was much more interesting to me at the moment.
Harper.
I placed the books back inside and turned to her. “So, I remember a promise of lots of things we could do.”
She lifted a brow. “Oh?”
“Mm, hm,” I nodded and backed her toward the stairs. “You reneging on that?”
“Nope.”
“Good to hear.” I grinned.
Damn. I was already hard.
This woman . . . She got to me. And I had a feeling that wasn’t going to change any time soon.
From the Journal of Rose Van de Berg
MUDVILLE INQUISITOR
1947
The Federal Communications Commission gave The Oneonta Star authorization to operate a broadcasting station. Mudville residents can find WDOS, broadcasting from its studios on the top floor of the Oneonta Hotel, on frequency 1400kc as of Dec. 1.
EIGHTEEN
Stone
I walked into the bar and stopped dead in the doorway, calculating if I could back out without being seen.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s here. Big bro back from his date.” Seated at the bar, Cash elbowed our little brother in the side.
Boone twisted on the barstool next to Cash and grinned. “Hey, bro. You get lucky?”
Jesus Christ. I scanned all the dark corners of the Muddy River Inn to see who was still around at midnight to hear. Not all that many people. Thank God.
Lainey’s nephew Carter was behind the bar, looking like he was waiting for closing time. There was a couple at a back corner table who looked more interested in their argument with each other than in me. And, of course, there were my annoying brothers.
But even one person hearing what they’d said about Harper and me was too many.
What the fuck had I been thinking coming here after leaving Harper’s?
Well, I knew what I’d been thinking. That I was wide awake and too keyed up to go home and to sleep after the time I’d spent in Harper’s bed.
I’d figured I’d have a beer first. Wind down. Wrap my head around this latest development between us.
Things had developed, all right. Twice. The second time quite creatively as my lack of another condom had us doing just about everything else but that.
Christ. I needed to stop thinking about it or I’d be hard again, right here in the bar where I shouldn’t have come.
I should have considered that in a place with one bar and not much else to do on a Saturday night, my brothers might be there.
They must have parked around the side of the building. That’s why I didn’t see either of their trucks.
Fuck. I could go—not even address their dumb comments. Turn around and walk right back out. But that would just leave them here to gossip without me.
Best to stay and try to do damage control.
Resigned, I moved to the bar and took the empty stool next to Boone. “Boys.”
Cash cocked up a brow, I guessed in reaction to me calling him a boy. Too bad. I was the older brother. Time they remembered that and showed me some respect . . . Wishful thinking on my part.
“So tell me, what did you have for dinner?” Cash asked, putting unnecessary emphasis on the last word suggestively.
“Steak,” I answered, not wanting to play this game.
“And what did you have for dessert?” Boone grinned wide.
“Lemon meringue pie.” Ha! Boone probably assumed there was no dessert and thought he was being clever with his sexual innuendo. That’d teach him.
Feeling duly satisfied with my victory, I tossed a handful of bills on the bar and lifted one finger. “Hey, Carter. Draft, please.”
I grabbed the beer Carter set down in front of me just as Cash leaned close to Boone.
“All I know, bro, is that something at Harper’s was so good Stone went back for seconds,” Cash said in a fake whisper loud enough for me to hear.
I coughed on the swallow I’d just taken from the pint glass.
Cash had heard me come home and then leave again not too long after.
I decided to play it cool. “Who says I went back to Harper’s?” I asked.
“Your truck parked in her driveway when I drove by on the way here,” Cash countered.
Fuck. That’s what I got for being a smart ass.
How the hell did he see me parked back behind the house? He would have had to really slow down and strain to try to see my truck back there. The bastard must have been specifically looking.
“She lost Agnes’s chickens and was freaking out. I had to go over and help her find them.”
The truth was probably what I should have led with instead of playing games. It was a valid excuse why I was there so late.
“You find ’em?” Boone asked.
He always had been the one with the softest heart when it came to animals. All kinds. Even chickens.
“Yup.” I nodded.
“Where were they?” Cash asked, looking like he was trying to poke holes in my story.
Too bad he couldn’t. It was the truth.
“Roosting in a tree next to the coop,” I answered.
“Humph,” Cash huffed out.
“She should be closing them in at night,” Boone said, still worried about the damn chickens.
“She knows. She won’t forget again. She was real upset when she thought they were some animal’s dinner.”
Adorably upset even if the tears did unnerve me at first.
What came after wasn’t so bad though. Holding her. Comforting her. Getting naked with her . . .
The image of her mouth wrapped around my cock flashed through my mind.
As much as I would have loved to dwell on that titillating memory for a good long while, I had to consciously push it aside. All thanks to the unwelcome company of my brothers.
As if he’d been reading my mind, Cash asked, “So, what else did you do over there besides eat steak and chase chickens?”
The smart-ass managed to make chasing the chickens sound dirty. The comment had even made the guy who’d just walked in and taken a seat at the end of the bar raise a brow as he glanced over. Great.
“Yeah, anything interesting?” Boone chimed in, grinning as he followed up on Cash’s question.
“Actually, yeah.” More truth to the rescue. “You guys remember Rose from when we were growing up?”
Cash frowned. “The weird old lady who lived over on Second Street?” he asked.
Boone’s frown matched Cash’s. “I don’t remember any weird old lady named Rose.”
“Yeah, you do. She used to give out crazy shit for Halloween. Like used pencil erasers or like a single crayon,” Cash said.
“Be nice,” I warned. “I’m guessing she did that because she didn’t have much money.”
Boone narrowed his eyes. “Oh yeah. Now I remember. She had like a dozen cats living there.”
“Yup.” Cash nodded. “Jack Parson’s sister Pansy worked at the animal shelter after school. He told me Pansy used to kidnap those cats one at a time and the vet would spay or neuter them, then she’d sneak them back to Rose’s before she noticed. Otherwise that batty old lady would have had hundre
ds of cats.”
Cash and Boone might be too young to realize it, but I was pretty sure that woman lived from one social security check to the next.
I’d been stuck behind her in line once at the store. She’d pulled out about a dozen coupons to pay the clerk with, and she only had barely a dozen items to buy. Then she paid in change. Come to think of it, I think the bulk of what she was buying was cat food.
Young me had been fascinated and a little annoyed at the wait behind her at the register when all I wanted to do was pay for my soda with the money I’d earned cutting Agnes’s lawn.
Adult me realized I probably should have been dropping off the day’s extra vegetables from the farm stand to make sure she was feeding herself and not spending all her limited money on cat food.
But Rose clipping all those news articles in Agnes’s attic made more sense now that I thought about it. She probably spent all day going through the local paper looking for those coupons.
“So what about her?” Cash asked.
I’d almost forgotten what I’d been meaning to tell them. “Oh, yeah. So there was all this talk after she died because of the rumors that she used to keep diaries full of dirt on everyone in town, but no one knew where they went to after she passed. Turns out, they’re up in Agnes’s attic.”
“So let me get this straight.” Cash leaned forward to see past Boone and actually turned his whole body on the bar stool just to face me better. “You’re alone with a woman who looks like Harper and you spent the night up in the attic reading some dead old lady’s dusty journals?”
“Yup.” I nodded, wearing my truth as a mantle.
Cash shook his head. “Good thing there’s me and Boone here to carry on the Morgan family name because obviously, big brother, you are not up to the task.”
Boone snickered.
They could laugh all they wanted but I was one happy guy.
I could still conjure the taste of Harper on my tongue. Could still feel how tight she was as I slid inside her. Still remember all her mind-blowing and creative suggestions to get around the lack of a second condom.
Christ, the whole night felt like a dream. An amazing, erotic, unbelievable wet dream . . . And Boone and Cash would never know any of it, which made it all the more gratifying for me.
Grinning, I downed another cold swallow of beer. Sweet satisfaction had this one tasting much better.
From the Journal of Rose Van de Berg
MUDVILLE INQUISITOR
1949
Yesterday, the New York State Freedom Train visited Mudville with three cars of rare exhibits of precious documents. Also on Feb. 8 the “Merci” Train, with forty-nine boxcars, will bring gifts from France in thanks for badly needed aid from the U.S. after the devastation France endured in World War II.
NINETEEN
Harper
There was no mistaking the sound I heard. It was loud enough to wake me from a deep, sex-induced sleep.
It was creaking again, but this time it sounded like it came from the attic above my head instead of the bedroom walls, like usual. And it wasn’t random or sporadic like usual. It was slow and steady, moving across the floor above my head like footsteps.
I did my best to ignore it. Red and Stone both had assured me old houses creaked and I had better get used to it or else it was going to be a long sleepless stay here for me in this house.
For once, I was going to listen instead of second guessing everybody.
Wow. That was progress for me.
As I lay in the dark, ignoring the sound above me that seemed to be getting louder, I had to wonder what accounted for my change in attitude.
This town and its slower pace? Or a couple of hours of exhausting but amazing sex that had put me into a nice post-coital slumber until the noise dragged me out of it?
God, it had been amazing. All of it. I felt like I needed to up the heat level in my book just to be able to write about it. Maybe my editor would be okay with a slightly hotter romance. This was a new series, after all. It didn’t have to follow my usual format exactly.
I glanced at the clock. Its glowing red numbers told me it hadn’t even been a couple of hours since Stone had left. If I turned my head on the pillow I could still smell him there. His deodorant. His body spray. Him. I didn’t know what exactly it was I could still detect but it was distinctly Stone and I loved it.
I rolled over to snuggle closer to the scent and squeezed my eyes shut, willing the damn house to stop making noises so I could get some sleep. Although if I had to be awake, reliving the night with Stone wasn’t such a bad way to weather insomnia.
Definite footsteps on the stairs had my eyes flying open. I was afraid to look, but I made myself roll over and peered through the open door and into the hallway.
I half expected to see the specter of Rose climbing the staircase in search of her journals. Or worse, one of the many corpses laid out here during the house’s funeral home days.
What I saw had me letting my breath out in a whoosh. It was a cat. One of the ones that lived in Agnes’s barn-like carriage house.
I sat up and asked, “How did you get in here?”
The damn thing jumped right up onto the bed and rubbed on my face. After they had all ignored me for the first week I’d been here, I hadn’t expected an answer to my question from the cat, but I didn’t expect this show of affection either.
Shalene had said the cats would come inside sometimes. I had been starting to think they didn’t since I’d been there because they hated me. I guess not.
I rubbed the cat’s head. “Was that you or your kitty friends making all that noise in the attic?”
The cat purred louder. I decided to take that as a yes.
“You want to sleep here tonight?” I asked, hoping the cat would stay.
I so desperately wanted a pet. Petunia was great—a star in Mudville—but she wasn’t going to snuggle in my lap. She might try but I didn’t think either of us would come out of the attempt happy.
But Miss Kitty here was the perfect companion.
I wondered if she already had a name. Until I could find out I decided Miss Kitty it would be.
Another creak sounded above my head.
“Did you hear that, Miss Kitty?” I asked.
She head butted my chin in response.
“I hope it’s your friends from the carriage house and that they decide to stop romping in the attic and come to bed too. Maybe you can talk to them for me.”
The cat pawed at the edge of the sheet and then crawled under the covers with me.
She curled herself into a circle in the crook of my arm with just the tip of her nose sticking out. I lay there, not moving, afraid I’d disturb her and she’d leave. I guess this would teach me to be careful what I wished for. I’d wanted the cat to stay. She’d stayed—and now I couldn’t move.
I was wide awake and wasn’t sure sleep was going to come anytime soon.
Cuddling with a cat was nice for like the first thirty seconds. I realized it quickly got boring.
I’d be happy to let her sleep in my lap all day if I had my computer in front of me and could get some work done.
I didn’t have my computer nearby . . . but I did have my phone.
Like a contortionist, I managed to twist my arm in just a way I could reach the cell on the nightstand and not disturb the kitty’s slumber.
The cell in my hand, I felt a calm wave of relief wash over me. I really did need to deal with my tech addiction. Not tonight, but one day.
But at least now I had something to occupy myself until I got tired. And it wouldn’t disturb my bedmate.
Wishing my new companion was six feet tall and had pecs of steel, instead of four footed and furry, I decided if I couldn’t snuggle Stone, I could at least text him.
It would be too soon and kind of stalkerish to text him in the middle of the night after he’d just left my bed, except for the fact that I had something really good to text. It was really more about content and le
ss about timing.
I managed to snap a picture of the cat and typed in a text.
Harper: Look who’s in my bed! Don’t know how she got in but if she kills me and eats me in my sleep it was very nice knowing you!
Happy with that I hit send and waited.
No reply came back for long enough I began to worry. But it could just be that he was sleeping. In that case, I should be relieved my text didn’t wake him. Farmers probably got up really early in the morning. Up with the sun and all that.
Still, I felt a wave of disappointment that he didn’t reply. That was soon accompanied by a return of my boredom.
I was just navigating to my email inbox to see what had come in in the middle of the night since I’d last checked before going to bed, for the first time tonight, not the time with Stone.
The message alert had my thumb flying to open it.
Stone Steak Master: I let her in. She was crying at the door. And don’t worry. I’m the only one who’ll be eating you. ;)
My heart pounded and my smile was so wide it almost hurt, until I realized I was monumentally bad at sexting.
I was a writer for God’s sake. Why couldn’t I come up with a single reply?
Actually, that wasn’t quite true. A dozen possible replies flew through my mind and I wasn’t sure I liked any of them.
Finally I settled on one reply, punched it in and hit send before I second guessed myself again.
Harper: I’ll hold you to that promise.
His reply was immediate. Even if I had woken him with my first text, he was obviously wide awake now. I tried not to feel guilty about being so happy to hear from him at this hour.
I read what appeared in my messages.
Stone Steak Master: I hope you do. Now go to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
I’d been reprimanded but he was right. It was late. We both should be up early tomorrow. Just because I set my own schedule didn’t mean I could stay up all night playing on my cell. I knew I’d be much more productive in the morning with a good night’s sleep.