Snatching the papers away from him I answered hotly, “I haven’t got anything yet. I’m working on the proposal, and I have less than forty eight hours to get it to Desmond Taylor. This might be my only chance to work on the Idlewood restoration. I don’t want to blow it.”
“Oh, I see.” He noticed the flowers on the side table and pointed to them. “You like the flowers?”
“Yes, they are very nice. Thank you, and happy anniversary. Your gift isn’t here yet. It might be a few days late.”
“Carrie Jo, what is going on? You’ve hardly talked to me all week. I get the feeling you’re mad about something, but I don’t know what. Please just tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I don’t have time for this right now, Ashland.” I added more gently, “When I finish this proposal I swear we’ll talk all you want. Okay?”
“Fine. Why not let me help you? I’ll cancel the dinner reservations I made, and we’ll work on this together. Who else, besides you, knows more about restoration projects than me? What are you in the mood for? Chinese? Italian? I could call Mama’s and go pick up something.”
The idea of food made my stomach feel queasy. All I wanted was a bottle of water and some oranges. I’d always heard that pregnant women had strange cravings—I didn’t want much of anything except oranges. I couldn’t get enough citrus fruit lately.
“Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
“Yes, I’m fine. I’ve just been staring at these computer screens all day. You don’t have to stay, Ashland. I am sure you’re just as tired as I am. Go home—I’ll be there in a couple of hours.” I sat behind my desk and didn’t wait for an answer.
“Damn it, CJ! It’s our anniversary! Can’t you at least pretend you want to spend it with me?”
Leaping out of the chair I yelled back at him, “Can’t you give me some space?”
“Tell me what’s going on!” His voice grew louder and I could tell by his body language that he was none too happy with me. I couldn’t deny he’d been patient about the proposal, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal.
“Alright! You want to know so much.” I flew to my feet. “You’ve been dreaming about women—lots and lots of women! You don’t even care that I am lying right beside you! Every night it’s someone new, Ash. I can’t remember the last time I got to sleep without being forced to watch my husband make love to someone else! You tell me what the hell is going on!”
“Are you seriously mad about some dream? Like I get to pick what I dream about? Is this really what you’re mad about, Carrie Jo?” He laughed bitterly and put his hands on his hips. “All this time I thought I’d done something wrong, and this is why you’re pissed? I can’t believe what I’m hearing!”
“You better believe it!” Fat, salty tears welled up in my eyes. I felt another wave of nausea. “Why are you all of a sudden dreaming about other women? Are you having an affair? With that brunette you’re fantasizing about?”
“Who? What the heck are you talking about—I don’t even know how to answer that. You know…” He raised his hands and walked toward the door. “When you’re done being crazy, call me.”
I stared in shock as he walked out the door, making sure to slam it behind him. I fell back in my seat and cried my eyes out. He was right, I was acting crazy. What the heck was wrong with me? I suddenly missed Bette. I needed someone to talk to, someone who could help me navigate this ball of confusion that I’d wound myself up in. Detra Ann had quietly stepped out of my life, and Rachel and I didn’t have the kind of relationship that I felt comfortable sharing my problems with her. Most people had a mother to talk to. Not me.
Ugh, I don’t have time to feel sorry for myself. I wiped my face with a tissue and continued to work on my project. Work was probably the best thing for me right now. If I were home, I would just wallow in my misery. At least at work I could focus on something else. I struggled with the spreadsheets for about an hour and then gave up. My mind wasn’t here, and neither was my heart. I wasn’t going to get anything done tonight except cry all over my paperwork. I grabbed my purse, hoping Ashland had gone home. He was right, we did need to talk, and I would have to start with an apology. I got behind the wheel of my BMW, slid the key in the ignition and turned it.
Click, click.
And that made me cry too. After a few minutes, I rubbed my red face with my now soppy tissue and decided to walk home. At least I’d get some fresh air and have time to rehearse what I would say. It was only four blocks from the office, and I hadn’t worn heels. A light winter wind blew, but the temperatures were only in the fifties. It had been a long time since I’d gone for a walk through the streets of downtown Mobile. I thought about Seven Sisters and how hard it would be to get there. No, you’ve got enough problems, Carrie Jo. I kept my eye on the broken sidewalks and tried to enjoy the scenery. This was a particularly nice block, with lovely old homes and cast-iron fences with fleur-de-lis perching atop the occasional posts. I walked past a house with thumping music and excited young people. When was the last time I’d been to a party?
Halfway there now. Just ahead I saw the low-hanging sign that marked one of Mobile’s most significant landmarks, the Magnolia Cemetery. Often referred to by locals as the City of the Dead, some of the city’s earliest citizens were buried here, along with hundreds of Civil War soldiers. There were even huge mausoleums that housed the bones of entire generations of families. I approached the open gate and slowed my walk. I had always meant to explore this place but had never gotten around to it. I tugged my purse up on my shoulder as if some nefarious purse-snatcher hovered near me in the shadows of the great oak trees.
A flash of light caught my eye. Must be the night watchman making rounds. I paused at the open gate. Hmm…that’s odd. I thought they closed this place at dusk. Well, I was here, and there was a good chance that Ashland would need some time to cool off. Shoving the squeaking gate open the rest of the way, I headed toward the light. I’d let the security guard know I was here, have a quick peek around and then head home. No harm done, right?
The light bounced through the trees, and it was difficult to keep up with it as I navigated the maze of graves. I hoped to avoid tripping over the roots of the massive oak and magnolia trees that littered the cemetery. I couldn’t help but squint at the grave markers of some of the cemetery’s older residents. Some of the tombstones were so old that the names were hard to read. Since the beginnings of Mobile, bodies had been laid to rest here—neatly at first, and then much more haphazardly as the centuries passed and space became an issue. Everywhere I looked I could see sentimental stonework like weeping angels and broken columns. Besides the children’s markers, I found the broken columns the saddest. They represented the last person in a family line. During the Civil War there were a lot of broken columns installed in the Magnolia Cemetery. How many sons had died during that horrendous war?
This was no time to be distracted. Shaking myself out of my reverie, I called out to the security guard. “Hello! Excuse me!” The cemetery was getting darker by the second, and there were no lights besides the bouncing light I had chased from one side of the grounds to the other. Peering through the dim light, I tried to discern a figure. I stepped out from under an old oak covered in Spanish moss into a clearing and watched the light. The air suddenly felt thick and, for lack of a better word, sparkly. It occurred to me that what I was seeing was not normal at all. That wasn’t a flashlight! What had appeared to be the beam of a flashlight suddenly changed color to a soft amber glow that bounced ever so softly off the ground about three feet.
“What in the world?” I thought perhaps it could be children or teenagers playing in the cemetery, but that didn’t make sense either. I leaned against the oak and called one more time. I had to be imagining things. “Hello?” The light stopped bouncing, expanded and then shrank to half its original size. “Oh my God!”
Yep. This was something supernatural.
Suddenly the light shot across the ceme
tery toward the gate to the left. Without thinking, I took off after it. It didn’t move as I got closer to the gate; it just hung in midair, still bouncing a little. I’d heard of orbs before but had never actually seen one. If that was what this was. Many people thought these were some type of ghost, but I had no idea. Most of the ghosts I saw were in dreams. Well, before Seven Sisters.
It was completely dark now and a chill crept into the air, a chill that had not been there before. Another warning sign. Clutching my purse, I ran ahead, stopping to hide behind a moldy mausoleum wall. I held my breath and silently counted to ten before slowly peering around the corner to take a peek at the light. The reasonable part of my brain told me to call someone, but who would that be? I watched as the light hovered in midair just this side of the gate. Maybe it wanted me to follow? Why else would it hang around?
I looked around the cemetery and saw no one else—no one living, anyway. I was by myself except for whatever entity this was I was chasing. Terrified, I leaned flush against the marble, the cold creeping through my clothing. I heard a noise I couldn’t identify—it started as a low moan and quickly became a screech. A small, dark shadow launched itself from the top of the mausoleum and landed on the ground beside me. It was a damn cat! A gray cat with an attitude, upset at the invader who had appeared in his playground. After my heart stopped pounding in my chest, I peeked around the corner again and took a deep breath. It was now or never.
I stepped out quickly, as if I could surprise it. As I did, the light flared and passed through the closed gate, disappearing into the dark Alabama night. I decided to follow it—I’d come this far. The gate was stubborn and didn’t give way without a fight. I gripped the cold cast-iron bars with both hands and pushed as hard as I could, and the gate swung open. I felt the chill again, and the hairs on my arms stood up.
Here I was again, completely surrounded by the supernatural with nowhere to run. Still clutching my purse like it was some sort of fashionable life preserver, I took a deep breath and stepped through the gate.
That was the last thing I remembered.
Chapter 5—Ashland
My wife never ceased to amaze me, but lately the surprises weren’t anything good. To think she’d been spying on my dreams and accused me of cheating. I couldn’t believe this was the Carrie Jo I loved and married. When I first saw her, she took my breath away. The more I got to know her, the more I was amazed at her knowledge, but it wasn’t just that. She had a deep compassion for people, even though at times she doubted her own ability to help them.
I will always remember the first time I saw her—a beautiful woman standing at the foot of the stairs of my family home. She wore a red blouse with slightly puffy sleeves and a red and white skirt with a tiny rose pattern all over it. Her legs were tanned and lovely, her face even lovelier with amazing green eyes and wild curly hair. I could tell instantly that she had a sense of humor and that she would not be easily impressed with my southern-boy swagger.
Seeing her there that night was like a sign, or at least I thought it was. But now I didn’t know what to think. I stuffed some clothing in my overnight bag and headed out the door. I didn’t leave a note for her—why bother? It sounded like she thought I was a disgusting letch. Didn’t she know I loved her more than any woman on the planet? Hadn’t we been through enough together for her to know that I was hers forever? Apparently not. Locking the door behind me, I looked down the street to see if I could spot her car. I made a deal with God: if I saw it in the next sixty seconds, I would know she wanted to work it out and I would stay. I tossed my bag in the truck and waited. When she didn’t come, I sighed, pulled out of the driveway and drove to the marina. I’d stay on the Happy Go Lucky tonight and figure out what my next move was. It would be cold as heck on the water this time of year, but it would have to do. I stopped by the grocery store to grab a few things for supper. I was starving. And to think I had planned on giving Carrie Jo an anniversary gift that she would never forget. I shook my head, did my shopping and headed to the boat.
About an hour later, I was sitting on the deck chewing an overcooked hamburger and watching the moonlight splash on the water. This was not the way I had planned to spend my anniversary. Wiping my hands with a napkin, I checked my phone yet again for a text or voicemail from Carrie Jo. Nothing. Not a peep. I stared off into the distance, sipping my beer and wondering what I could do to fix our current situation. We’d been through too much, seen too much to give up now, but this wouldn’t work if only one of us was committed to seeing it through.
To make matters worse, I was seeing ghosts again. Not family ghosts this time, thankfully. Most were strangers, faded people who glared at me from curtained windows and sailed past me at inopportune moments. Even at home. Having other people around seemed to keep them away, though. Thank goodness for Doreen. When Carrie Jo wasn’t there, Doreen was. The more living souls in the house, the merrier. People told me my “sight” was a gift, but I wouldn’t call it that. I’d hated psychics and mediums when I was growing up, and now I’d become the thing I hated. Yeah, seeing ghosts was never fun. It always surprised me, and unlike on those stupid television shows, they never wanted anything or asked for anything. They didn’t speak to me or ask for my help “finding the light.” They were always unhappy or fixated on something. And likewise I never spoke to them or tried to communicate with them. Maybe I was going crazy like my mother.
To keep my mind straight, I decided to keep a diary. I wrote down what I saw, where I spotted the ghosts and the dates I saw them and for how long. I noticed that my ability to see ghosts was heightened during the full moon. What was I? Some sort of psychic werewolf? The only place I really found peace was on the water. I never saw anything out here. Once I thought I did, but it turned out to be nothing. And nobody had ever died on my boat—I’d bought it brand new just to be sure. Thank God for that.
Now I really thought I was going crazy. I saw a ghost yesterday, but it wasn’t a true ghost—it was Detra Ann, who I knew for a fact was alive and well. What made it stranger was the ghost appeared in my home, on the stairs where she had been shot—probably by another ghost. I had called out to her, but she disappeared, shimmering for a second and then fluttering away like the end of an old movie reel. Her appearance had surprised me so much that I yelled. Doreen had stepped into the hallway to check on me. She swore that there was no one else in the house. I couldn’t understand it. Maybe tomorrow I would go by the shop and see Detra Ann and Henri. I missed my friends. I missed my wife. How on earth had my life gone completely nuts?
I checked my phone one more time before I took it below to plug it in. I cleaned up the galley and headed to the shower. Carrie Jo wasn’t going to call me. My wife was a stubborn woman but normally not this unreasonable. Why not just call it a night? After my shower, I fell asleep reading a book on mastering extrasensory perception. I woke with a stiff neck to the sound of someone calling my name.
“Ashland! You there?”
“Carrie Jo?” I tossed the book to the side and walked out on the deck. Libby Stevenson, a former schoolmate and my new attorney, stood on the dock with two cups of coffee. Her long dark hair shone in the sunlight. I had never seen her in casual clothing before, but today she wore blue jeans with a purposeful hole in the knee and a comfortable-looking blue t-shirt that read LA: City of Dreams. “May I come aboard? I come bearing gifts.”
“Sure,” I said, running my hands through my wild hair. My eyes felt sticky and my brain was tired—I must have stayed out later than I thought. “How did you know I was here? Did you talk to Carrie Jo?”
“I just happened to be riding by and saw your truck here. I know it’s not a workday, but I figured I’d come take a peek at the infamous Happy Go Lucky.” She handed me a cup of coffee.
I took it from her with a smile. “Infamous? I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, it’s the talk of the office. Roger Bosarge says that this is the boat you caught that prize-winning fish in—he thinks either
this boat is lucky or you cheated. That was at the Deep Sea Fishing Rodeo a few years ago, right?” I nodded. “Someday you’ll have to take me fishing.” Pretty white teeth gleamed at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“You like to fish?”
“Big time. Growing up that’s all we did. My dad believed in teaching us how to fish. I have to admit it’s been a while since I’ve tossed a hook in the water, but I think I remember how to catch one.” We sipped our coffees and sat in silence for a few minutes. “How did Mrs. Stuart like her gift?”
“I haven’t given it to her yet.”
“Oh, I see.” Libby’s blue eyes widened, and she clamped her lips for a second. “Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“For what it’s worth, I’d love to get a gift like that. Any woman would. I hope she knows how lucky she is.”
“Truth be told, I’m the lucky one.” I meant every word. I did love Carrie Jo. Despite this minor glitch, we’d gotten on very well considering the supernatural forces that continually arrayed themselves against us. She had helped me unravel my family’s sordid past and set us free from a variety of self-inflicted curses. I was indeed a lucky man.
“That’s sweet. You’re just too good to be true.”
I decided to change the subject. “So how is Jeremy? I heard he started his own veterinary clinic in Clarke County. Has he gotten over Kelly yet?”
Libby pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “You know how my brother is. He’s been in love with Kelly about as long as I’ve loved—” She stopped short, and I thought I saw a blush rise on her face. Taking another sip of her coffee, she continued, “Well, it’s been a long time. At least she didn’t leave him standing at the altar. He’s got his animals so I think he’ll be okay.”
The Ultimate Seven Sisters Collection Page 51