I fell in love with you the first time I looked into
Them there eyes.
And you have a certain lil cute way of flirtin’
With them there eyes.
Livelier. And he’d sworn he would never use such a word when Miss Hartley made him repeat that for his spelling and vocabulary words this week. Yes, this song just got livelier. He laughed as he colored the picture. It was a picture of himself and his grandpa walking with those bags of salt to the cemetery, the one that was hidden in the woods. He carefully drew the crosses in the narrow pathway. Once Daddy popped over to look over his shoulder at his picture. Arnold Lee was glad he didn’t ask him any questions. Arnold Lee couldn’t explain why he was drawing the scene, but it meant so much to him. He wanted to remember it always.
They make me feel so happy.
They make me feel so blue.
I’m fallin’, no stallin’,
Fallin’ in a great big way for you.
My heart is jumpin’, you’ve started somethin’
With them there eyes.
Yes, he liked coloring and drawing better than answering his parents’ questions about his special songs. Hearing about those special songs always made Mama get bright red in her face. He remembered this past Sunday with Mama. They went to church at her favorite house of worship, the big Highland Baptist Church at the corner of Highland and Michigan Avenue. Arnold Lee didn’t mind going; he liked playing with the other children. He did a lot more playing than praying in that Sunday school class. But he liked that too, and he liked his Sunday school teacher, Miss Virginia, even though she wouldn’t let him talk about the things he was really interested in. What he really wanted to know about was ghosts and such. But no, they weren’t allowed to talk about those kinds of things at the Highland Baptist Church.
In fact, one time Mama insisted that he talk to the preacher about all that fancy singing the lady did in his ear. Like Daddy suggested, he played dumb and didn’t tell the man a thing, but it was hard keeping it a secret. He remembered Daddy’s words, and they gave him comfort. Even if the preacher man warned Arnold Lee about hell and telling lies to grown-ups.
Daddy had said, “Arnold Lee, I know you want to tell everybody about what you know. My dad was like that too, but you can’t. You just can’t. You have to keep those things to yourself and wait for the right opportunity to share them. You understand?”
“No. You sound like you’re asking me to tell a lie.”
“It might sound that way, son, but what I’m asking you to do is protect yourself. If you don’t want to do it for yourself, do it for me. Please, Arnold Lee. I need you to listen to me. Just this once.”
Arnold Lee wanted to please his father, but keeping this kind of secret seemed wrong to him. The same sort of situation came up on his favorite television show the other day. The boy in the show didn’t hear songs in his ear, but he had magical powers too. He could close his eyes and wish people away. Some government people were looking for him, and his father tried to help him but the boy was foolish. He told the wrong person his secret, and pretty soon all his family was in trouble. Arnold Lee didn’t want the preacher man to come looking for Daddy or Mama. Even though Mama liked to yell at Daddy a lot, he knew she loved him, and he loved them both.
“Arnold Lee? How many burgers you want? One or two?”
He thought about it for just a moment and said, “Just one. No, wait. Make that two. She might be hungry.”
Daddy raised his eyebrow, but unlike Mama, he accepted that Arnold Lee was just a little different than other children his age. Arnold Lee knew that too. He was okay with that.
Arnold Lee hummed along as he pulled a marker out of the box. Yes, this had been a real treat. Daddy had surprised him with a big old box of markers.
Them there eyes…
Wait! He wasn’t singing that. Arnold Lee looked up and saw his father tapping the barbecue grill with his spatula. Could it be possible? Daddy heard the same song! Arnold Lee knew for a fact he had never heard Daddy sing this song, and he’d never spoken about this song before. In fact, this was the first time he’d heard it.
With a big smile, Arnold Lee pulled out a new sheet of paper and walked inside to hang the finished artwork on the refrigerator with magnets. He surveyed it and nodded his approval at the work. It wasn’t a Picassa-angelo, but it was close enough. He touched his grandpa’s image and ran upstairs to find the chauffeur’s hat he’d given him.
Scampering back down the stairs, he sang the rest of the song.
You better look out, lil brown eyes...if you’re wise.
They sparkle,
They bubble,
Get you in a lot of trouble.
Oh, baby...them there eyes.
Time to get started on his new work of art. He hadn’t worked it all out yet, but he knew his father would be in it—and Arnold Lee would be too. And that other lady, the one with the sad eyes. Miss Jessica. He liked her a whole lot. She showed up every now and then and spoke sweet to him. She didn’t sing like Miss Billie, but she was good to him.
“Yep,” he said aloud, ignoring his father’s questioning look. “That’s what I’ll do.”
He sketched his father first; he wouldn’t draw him in his work clothes. Nope. No suit and tie but a t-shirt and jeans. For some reason, Arnold Lee felt like he needed to draw him in his work boots. He hardly ever wore them, but he would need them for this.
Them there eyes…
Next, he drew himself. He didn’t have work boots yet, but he would have some soon. He would ask for them, and he knew Daddy would buy them for him. He sketched himself and smiled over his shoulder.
Miss Jessica came closer to take a peek. She liked his picture. She really did.
She told him exactly what to draw next.
Connect with M.L. Bullock on Facebook. To receive updates on her latest releases, visit her website at M.L. Bullock and subscribe to her mailing list. You can also contact her at [email protected].
About the Author
Author of the best-selling Seven Sisters series and the Desert Queen series, M.L. Bullock has been storytelling since she was a child. A student of archaeology, she loves weaving stories that feature her favorite historical characters—including Nefertiti. She currently lives on the Gulf Coast with her family but travels frequently to explore the southern states she loves so much.
Read more from M.L. Bullock
The Nike Chronicles
Blue Water
Blue Wake
Blue Tide
The Seven Sisters Series
Seven Sisters
Moonlight Falls on Seven Sisters
Shadows Stir at Seven Sisters
The Stars that Fell
The Stars We Walked Upon
The Sun Rises Over Seven Sisters
Christmas at Seven Sisters (bonus short stories)
The Idlewood Series
The Ghosts of Idlewood
Dreams of Idlewood
The Whispering Saint
The Haunted Child
Return to Seven Sisters
(A Seven Sisters Sequel Series)
The Roses of Mobile
All the Summer Roses
Blooms Torn Asunder
A Garden of Thorns
The Gulf Coast Paranormal Series
The Ghosts of Kali Oka Road
The Ghosts of the Crescent Theater
A Haunting on Bloodgood Row
The Legend of the Ghost Queen
A Haunting at Dixie House
The Ghost Lights of Forrest Field
The Ghost of Gabrielle Bonet
The Ghost of Harrington Farm
The Creature on Crenshaw Road
Shabby Hearts Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series
A Touch of Shabby
Shabbier by the Minute
Shabby by Night
The Sugar Hill Series
Wife of the Left Hand
Fire on the Ramparts
Blood by
Candlelight
The Starlight Ball
His Lovely Garden
Ghosts of Summerleigh Series
The Belles of Desire, Mississippi
The Ghost of Jeopardy Belle
The Lady in White
Lost Camelot Series
Guinevere Forever
Guinevere Unconquered
The Desert Queen Series
The Tale of Nefret
The Falcon Rises
The Kingdom of Nefertiti
The Song of the Bee-Eater
Standalone books
Ghosts on a Plane
More from M.L. Bullock
From The Ghosts of Kali Oka Road
“Sierra to base.”
Sara’s well-manicured nails wrapped around the black walkie-talkie. “This is base. Go ahead, Sierra.”
“Five minutes. No sign of the client. K2 is even Steven. Temp is 58F.”
“Great. Check back in five. Radio silence, please.”
“All right.”
She tapped the antenna of the walkie-talkie to her chin. “I hope she remembers to take pictures. Did she take her camera?” she asked Midas. It was the first time she’d spoken to him this afternoon.
“Yes, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a backup. You have yours?”
Sara cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you kidding? I’m no rookie.” She cast a stinging look of disdain in my direction and strolled back to her car in her stylish brown boots and began searching her backseat, presumably for her camera.
“Am I missing something?” I couldn’t help but ask. The uncomfortable feeling kept rising. I’d had enough weirdness for one day.
Nobody answered me. Midas glared after Sara, but it was Peter who broke the silence.
“Cassidy, have you always been interested in the supernatural? Seems like we all have our own stories to tell. All of us have either seen something or lost someone. They say the loss of a loved one in a tragic way makes you more sensitive to the spirit world. I think that might be true.”
“You’re an ass, Pete. You’re joking about her sister? She doesn’t know she’s lost her.” I could see Midas’ muscles ripple under his shirt. He wore a navy blue sweater, the thin, fitted kind that had three buttons at the top.
“I’m sorry, Cassidy. I swear to you I’m not a heartless beast.”
“How could you not know?” Sara scolded him. “She told us about her the other night.”
“I had my headphones on half the time, cueing up video and photographs. Shoot. I’m really sorry, Cassie.”
That was the last straw. I was about to tell him how I really felt about his “joke.” I took a deep breath and said, “My name is Cassidy, and…”
The walkie-talkie squawked, and I heard Sierra’s voice, “Hey! Y’all need to get in here, now!”
Immediately everyone began running toward the narrow pathway. Midas snatched the walkie. “Sierra! What’s up?”
“Someone’s out here—stalking us.”
“Can you see who it is? Is it Ranger?”
“Definitely not! Footsteps are too fast for someone so sick.” Her whisper sent a shiver down my spine. “I’m taking pictures…should we keep pushing in toward the house?”
“Yes, keep going. We’re double-timing your way. Stay on the path, Sierra. Don’t get lost. Follow your GPS. It should lead you right to it.”
“Okay.”
“Midas! Let’s flank whoever this is!” Pete said, his anger rising.
Midas looked at me as if to say, “Are you going to be all right?”
Sara said, “Go and help Sierra. Cassidy and I will follow.”
Immediately Midas took off to the left and Peter to the right. They flanked the narrow road and scurried through the woods to see if they could detect the intruder.
Sara handed me her audio recorder. “Hold this! I’m grabbing some photos. We’re going to run, Cassidy. I hope you can keep up.”
“Sure, I used to run marathons.” I didn’t want to seem like a wimp. Now didn’t seem like the time to tell her that I hadn’t trained in over six months. “But why are we running? Are they in danger, do you think? Maybe it’s just a homeless person.”
“The element of surprise! Hit record and come on! Get your ass in gear, girl!”
I pressed the record button, gritted my teeth and took off after her. We ran down the leaf-littered path; the afternoon sunlight was casting lean shadows in a few spots now. We’d be out of sun soon. Then we’d be running through the woods in the dark. Was it supposed to be this cold out here?
I wish I held the temperature thingy instead, but I didn’t.
“You feel that, Cassidy? The cold?” She bounded over a log in front of me, and I followed her. “Not unusual for the woods, but this is more than that,” she said breathlessly. “I think it might mean we’ve got supernatural activity out here.”
“You think?” I asked sincerely.
She paused her running. Her pretty cheeks were pink and healthy-looking. She’d worn her long hair in a ponytail today, and she wore blue jeans that fit her perfectly.
“Yeah, I do. I think it’s time you get your feet wet, rookie. Use the audio recorder. Ask a few questions.”
“Um, what? What kind of questions?”
“Ask a question like, ‘Are there any spirits around me that want to talk?’”
I repeated what she said. I spun around slowly and looked around the forest, but there wasn’t a sound. Not even bird sounds or a squirrel rattling through the leaves. And it didn’t just sound dead; it felt dead.
About The Ghosts of Kali Oka Road
The paranormal investigators at Gulf Coast Paranormal thought they knew what they were doing. Midas, Sierra, Sara, Josh and Peter had over twenty combined years of experience investigating supernatural activity on the Gulf Coast. But when they meet Cassidy, a young artist with a strange gift, they realize there’s more to learn. And time is running out for Cassidy.
When Gulf Coast Paranormal begins investigating the ghosts of Kali Oka Road, they find an entity far scarier than a few ghosts. Add in the deserted Oak Grove Plantation, and you have a recipe for a night of terror.
More from M.L. Bullock
From the Ultimate Seven Sisters Collection
A smile crept across my face when I turned back to look at the pale faces watching me from behind the lace curtains of the girls’ dormitory. I didn’t feel sorry for any of them—all of those girls hated me. They thought they were my betters because they were orphans and I was merely the accidental result of my wealthy mother’s indiscretion. I couldn’t understand why they felt that way. As I told Marie Bettencourt, at least my parents were alive and wealthy. Hers were dead and in the cold, cold ground. “Worm food now, I suppose.” Her big dark eyes had swollen with tears, her ugly, fat face contorting as she cried. Mrs. Bedford scolded me for my remarks, but even that did not worry me.
I had a tool much more effective than Mrs. Bedford’s threats of letters to the attorney who distributed my allowance or a day without a meal. Mr. Bedford would defend me—for a price. I would have to kiss his thin, dry lips and pretend that he did not peek at my décolletage a little too long. Once he even squeezed my bosom ever so quickly with his rough hands but then pretended it had been an accident. Mr. Bedford never had the courage to lift up my skirt or ask me for a “discreet favor,” as my previous chaperone had called it, but I enjoyed making him stare. It had been great fun for a month or two until I saw how easily he could be manipulated.
And now my rescuer had come at last, a man, Louis Beaumont, who claimed to be my mother’s brother. I had never met Olivia, my mother. Not that I could remember, anyway, and I assumed I never would.
Louis Beaumont towered above most men, as tall as an otherworldly prince. He had beautiful blond hair that I wanted to plunge my hands into. It looked like the down of a baby duckling. He had fair skin—so light it almost glowed—with pleasant features, even brows, thick lashes, a manly mouth. It was a shame he was so near a
kin because I would have had no objections to whispering “Embrasse-moi” in his ear. Although I very much doubted Uncle Louis would have indulged my fantasy. How I loved to kiss, and to kiss one so beautiful! That would be heavenly. I had never kissed a handsome man before—I kissed the ice boy once and a farmhand, but neither of them had been handsome or good at kissing.
For three days we traveled in the coach, my uncle explaining what he wanted and how I would benefit if I followed his instructions. According to my uncle, Cousin Calpurnia needed me, or rather, needed a companion for the season. The heiress would come out this year, and a certain level of decorum was expected, including traveling with a suitable companion. “Who would be more suitable than her own cousin?” he asked me with the curl of a smile on his regal face. “Now, dearest Isla,” he said, “I am counting on you to be a respectable girl. Leave all that happened before behind in Birmingham—no talking of the Bedfords or anyone else from that life. All will be well now.” He patted my hand gently. “We must find Calpurnia a suitable husband, one that will give her the life she’s accustomed to and deserves.”
Yes, indeed. Now that this Calpurnia needed a proper companion, I had been summoned. I’d never even heard of Miss Calpurnia Cottonwood until now. Where had Uncle Louis been when I ran sobbing in a crumpled dress after falling prey to the lecherous hands of General Harper, my first guardian? Where had he been when I endured the shame and pain of my stolen maidenhead? Where? Was I not Beaumont stock and worthy of rescue? Apparently not. I decided then and there to hate my cousin, no matter how rich she was. Still, I smiled, spreading the skirt of my purple dress neatly around me on the seat. “Yes, Uncle Louis.”
“And who knows, ma petite Cherie, perhaps we can find you a good match too. Perhaps a military man or a wealthy merchant. Would you like that?” I gave him another smile and nod before I pretended to be distracted by something out the window. My fate would be in my own hands, that much I knew. Never would I marry. I would make my own future. Calpurnia must be a pitiful, ridiculous kind of girl if she needed my help to land a “suitable” husband with all her affluence.
About the Ultimate Seven Sisters Collection
When historian Carrie Jo Jardine accepted her dream job as chief historian at Seven Sisters in Mobile, Alabama, she had no idea what she would encounter. The moldering old plantation housed more than a few boxes of antebellum artifacts and forgotten oil paintings. Secrets lived there—and they demanded to be set free.
The Sugar Hill Collection Page 59