Secrets of Redemption Box Set

by Michele Pariza Wacek

  He ran his hand through his hair. “How do you know she’s sleepwalking?”

  “It’s pretty obvious.”

  “What is she doing?”

  I hesitated. Now it was getting dicey. How much do I share about the house’s grisly past? Would he even take me seriously? Or would he think it was all too crazy, keeping Chrissy from getting the help she really needed?

  “She … well the first time she was throwing stuff on the floor in the family room. Tonight, she was just searching through the shelves, but she wasn’t destroying anything.”

  “Are you sure she was sleepwalking?”

  “Like I said, it’s obvious if you see her.”

  “Is she saying anything?”

  Where is it? I must find it.

  I shrugged. “Yes, but it’s nonsense.” I couldn’t believe how smoothly the lie came out. On the other hand, if you didn’t believe in ghosts, it was nonsense.

  He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  I picked at the edge of the quilt. “I … I should have. But Chrissy asked me not to. And I was hoping it was just some phase—you know, hormones and stress—and that once she got settled in, she would stop. But, she’s getting worse, not better. I think we should get her some help.”

  He sighed and flung the covers back. “I’d better go see her.”

  I watched him leave the bedroom with mixed feelings. I knew I had to tell him. I had no choice.

  So, why did I have a gnawing feeling in my gut that I just made another big mistake?

  I straightened the bed before getting back in. I laid on my back, stared at the ceiling, my thoughts whirling around.

  Where is it? I must find it.

  Was Chrissy being haunted by Nellie? It certainly was starting to seem that way. But, that would mean ghosts really did exist.

  I didn’t really believe in ghosts, did I?

  Aunt Charlie in the kitchen, smiling her too-wide, too-pointed, smile.

  Beware. It’s coming.

  I shivered, pulling the covers to my chin. Maybe the question I really should ask was how I could possibly convince Stefan that we had a ghost problem, knowing he wasn’t a believer.

  No, there was probably some other explanation for Chrissy’s behavior—an explanation that had nothing to do with ghosts.

  There had to be.

  The minutes stretched out. What was taking Stefan so long? It felt like he had been in her room for an hour.

  I was starting to drift off when the door creaked open and Stefan slid into bed. He curled up on his side, facing away from me, making sure he didn’t touch me.

  I was going to ask him about Chrissy, but something made me hold my tongue. There was something furtive about his movements, the way he slipped into bed, like he didn’t want to alert me.

  Maybe he didn’t want to wake you, another voice said. Maybe he’s being a kind and compassionate husband.

  Maybe. But something didn’t feel right.

  Was I being paranoid? Or was there something else going on?

  Chapter 28

  Sunlight streamed through the room. I blinked the sleep from my eyes as I looked at the clock. Later than normal—apparently my nocturnal activities had taken their toll.

  Stefan’s side of the bed was empty—no surprise there. Always an early riser, he had probably been up for hours, and was already hard at work in his office. I jumped out of bed, slipped on a pair of yoga pants and an oversized tee shirt, and padded my way downstairs to get my day started. Hopefully, Stefan wouldn’t notice how late I’d slept in.

  I walked into the kitchen, only to find Stefan and Chrissy standing very close together, whispering to each other. They sprang apart as soon as they saw me. “Rebecca, there you are,” Stefan said, giving me a big smile. “Let me pour you a cup of coffee.”

  Chrissy backed away to lean against the counter, an unreadable expression on her face. Her outfit wasn’t too inappropriate—cut off jean shorts and an oversized, off-the-shoulder hot-pink shirt with a black sports bra.

  I felt the hairs on the back of my neck start to prickle. What were they talking about so secretively? Why did they act so guilty when I came in?

  Today, I walked into the drawing room only to find Nellie and Edward standing in the corner, way too close. They jumped apart when they saw me, and Nellie quickly left the room, saying Gertrude needed her. When I asked Edward, he laughed at me, told me I was imagining things.

  Why would that pop into my mind? Stefan is Chrissy’s father—this wasn’t a maid-employer situation.

  But, if Nellie was haunting Chrissy …

  Stefan handed me my coffee, a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m glad you’re finally up.”

  My stomach tightened. “I’m usually up earlier,” I said, hating the defensive note in my voice that I couldn’t seem to stop. “I just overslept, after all the excitement last night.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Chrissy slink out of the kitchen, her expression still flat.

  Stefan waved his hand. “It was a late night for everyone,” he said, but there was a slight disapproving edge to his voice. He had managed to get up at a respectable time, after all. And so had Chrissy.

  Yet another failure. At this rate, we were never going to get our marriage back on track.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he continued, not noticing me staring miserably into my coffee. “I think it’s time for you to get a job.”

  My stomach sank even lower. “Why?” I asked. “We’re going to be moving as soon as the house is sold.”

  “Just a temp job,” he said. “What you used to do. Before we were married.”

  That was the last thing I wanted. “But, I thought the law firm was on better footing.”

  He made a face. “It is. After a lot of difficult choices. But, I’m still not able to pull money out the way I used to. And, with me being here, it’s going to take longer to rebuild the practice.” He noticed the disappointed expression on my face and added, “You want me here, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” I said, wondering if what he was really saying was that this was somehow all my fault.

  “And,” he waved his hand around the kitchen. “We’re not as far along with getting the house ready for market as I had anticipated. There’s still a lot of work that needs to be done before we can sell it.”

  My fault again. “But, if I’m working, that’s going to suck up my time,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. “Wouldn’t it make sense for me to focus all my energy on the house and not try to find a job, too?”

  He gave me a look that clearly said I’ve seen how fast you go when you’re focusing all your energy on something. “We need the money,” he said flatly. “Look, we don’t know how long it’s going to take to finish the house or even how long it’s going to sit on the market. It makes more sense for you to work, take some financial pressure off, and we’ll work on the house in our free time.”

  I busied myself getting a spoon out to stir my coffee that didn’t need to be stirred. A part of me wanted to defend myself. I was doing the best I could, I wanted to shout. It’s been a really difficult few months, what with packing and moving across the country, to dealing with my past. And, that’s on top of Chrissy and getting sick.

  Why couldn’t he see that?

  But, a part of me felt like he was right. I should have gotten more done. Stefan has been working nonstop. Why haven’t I? What was wrong with me? Unpacking our belongings would have made him happy. Moving our bedroom into the master bedroom would have made him happy. Why on earth did I try and convince myself otherwise? Didn’t I want to make him happy? Didn’t I want to save my marriage?

  Or was I willing to face my family and friends as a two-time marriage loser, having to endure all the “I told you so’s�
� for rushing into this one?

  What a dreadful start to his homecoming.

  “Hey,” he said softly. He had moved from the counter to right behind me. He raised my chin with a finger. “We’ll get through this. Okay? It’s going to require some sacrifices. From all of us.”

  I nodded, knowing he was right, but still resisting. I tried one last plea. “What about the cooking and the cleaning? And the yard work? All of that needs to be done as well before we sell it.”

  “Chrissy can help. And, if we need to take a little more time, but it’s not such a financial stress on all of us, then it’s okay that it takes a little more time.”

  I noticed he didn’t volunteer himself to help with those household chores. I quickly stomped down that thought. Stefan had been working overtime for months now. It wasn’t fair to ask him to do more. I was the one who needed to step up here. “I’m glad to hear you say Chrissy can help with the cooking and cleaning. I would love that. But I think she may need some time to take care of herself.”

  Stefan shot me a blank look. “Take care of herself? What are you talking about?”

  I looked at him in surprise. “I’m talking about the sleepwalking and the drinking and everything else going on with her. We should make an appointment for her to see a doctor …”

  He interrupted me. “She doesn’t need a doctor. She’s fine.”

  “How do you know? You’re not a doctor.”

  “No, but I’m her father. I know my daughter and I know she’s fine.”

  “Stefan, you didn’t see her ….”

  He held up his hand. “Rebecca, that’s enough. Just drop it.”

  Drop it? I stared at him. “Don’t I get a say? I am her stepmother. And who has been taking care of her these past few weeks?”

  “I said, that’s enough.” Stefan’s voice cut through like a knife. His eyes narrowed. I could almost see the anger radiating off him. “That was a low blow,” he said. “You know I couldn’t be with her. But she is my daughter, and I have the final say.”

  I forced myself to take a breath. I had never seen him so angry. What could have triggered it? “Stefan, what’s going on here?” I asked in a low voice. I had to press him. For Chrissy’s sake.

  He took a step backward. “What are you talking about? Nothing is going on. She’s my daughter and I think I know best.”

  “This morning. In the kitchen. What was going on with you two?”

  “Rebecca, what has gotten into you? We were just talking.”

  “But what were you talking about? What didn’t you want me to hear?”

  “Nothing,” Stefan said. “Rebecca, where is this coming from? You’re the one who wanted me to talk to her, right? So, I was talking to her. What do you think is going on?”

  It’s all in your head. I turned away and swallowed some coffee—as before, Stefan had fixed it perfectly.

  He had a point. I did want him to talk to Chrissy. Lord knew she didn’t trust me, so keeping it quiet between them made sense. Looking at it that way, everything I saw in the kitchen made sense. I could feel myself squirming a little, with shame and guilt. Honestly, what did I really think was going on? I was reading too much into Mad Martha’s diary.

  “I’m glad you’re talking to Chrissy,” I said at last. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need a mother figure. Especially now. I know I’m not her mother, but I’m the closest thing she has to one right now. She needs me around.”

  “You can still be that and work,” Stefan said. “Plenty of mothers work.”

  Yes, but Chrissy needs me, I wanted to protest. Instead, I swallowed those words almost as soon as I thought them. Did she really need me? I was the hated and resented stepmother. She certainly didn’t act like she needed me.

  In fact, Stefan was right. I didn’t need to be here taking care of the house full-time either. All of this was just a bunch of excuses because I felt sick at the thought of forcing myself into a job I hated again.

  I heard a paper rustle. “Yesterday, I picked up the local paper for you. It’s on the table.”

  “Okay,” I said, still studying my coffee. “I’ll start looking after breakfast.”

  He paused. “It’s not forever Rebecca. Six months, a year, year and a half at most. That’s all we’re talking. Okay?”

  I finally looked up at him and tried to smile. “Of course. It’s fine. I get it.”

  He nodded, refilling his coffee cup and headed out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  ***

  Rubbing my forehead, I poured myself a glass of wine and headed out to the backyard. I was taking a break before starting dinner.

  The moist, cool air kissed my cheek, smelling of green grass and growing plants. Ah, the grass. It was seriously overgrown and needed to be cut—when was I going to find the time? Or maybe I should talk to Stefan about getting Chrissy to do it.

  The sun was starting its descent in the sky, but luckily, it wasn’t low enough for the mosquitoes to be out yet. I headed over to sit on a bench overlooking the weedy and overgrown yard.

  I was depressed and discouraged. It had been a frustrating day.

  It all started with the Help Wanted ads. Combing through them, nothing had seemed right. I couldn’t imagine myself in any of those positions.

  That would have been dismal enough, but just as I threw the paper down in disgust, Stefan walked in.

  He raised an eyebrow at me as he headed over to the coffee pot. “Problem?”

  I blew the air out my cheeks and slumped over the table. “There’s just not a lot of options.”

  “Oh?” He walked over to the table and started rifling through the paper. “I saw a lot of listings when I looked earlier. There were at least a couple I thought were promising. Maybe you missed them?”

  I knew I hadn’t missed anything. “Stefan,” I began, and then paused. I didn’t know how he was going to respond to what I wanted to say. “I was thinking …” my voice trailed off.

  He glanced up at me, a puzzled expression on his face. “Thinking? About what?”

  “Well …” It’s now or never, Becca. “Maybe I’d like to look into doing something different.”

  His puzzlement seemed to deepen. “Different? Different than what?”

  “Different than what I did before.”

  “I don’t understand. What else are you qualified for?” His face seemed to change then. “Wait, you mean like go back to school? Rebecca, you know we can’t afford that.”

  I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry. “So, you’re saying I’m not qualified to do anything else? That I couldn’t follow another path without going back to school?”

  His eyes widened. “Oh, that’s not what I meant.” He pulled out a chair and sat down in front of me. “I’m listening. What are you thinking about doing?”

  Was it my imagination or was he patronizing me? In that moment, I was feeling more like his wayward daughter and less like his wife and partner. “I was thinking about starting my own business.”

  He stared at me, flabbergasted. I don’t think I had ever seen him so shocked. “Your own business? Doing what?” His voice dripped with disbelief.

  I was starting to wish I had never started this conversation. “Well, my aunt had this business where she created custom teas and herbs for healing …”

  “Teas? Are you serious?”

  There was no way I was going to tell him about wanting to get back into painting now. “She had quite a profitable business going.” My voice was getting smaller and smaller.

  “What do you know about making teas?”

  “I have her notes …”

  But he was already shaking his head. “Honey, no.” He put his hand over mine. “Look, this is my fault. I tried to protect you. I didn’t want you to know how dire our financial situation is. But, this is silly.
You can’t start a business right now. You need money to start a business and we don’t have it.”

  I stared at the table. “I know, but I thought …”

  “Trust me, Rebecca. It’s better for you, for all of us, if you just get a job. You have no experience making teas. You have no experience running a business. How can you possibly think you’ll succeed?”

  I was silent. The logical part of me knew he was right, but another part of me, a deeper part of me, rebelled. “I’ll keep looking,” I said, my voice so small and quiet I could barely hear it.

  He let his breath out in a huge sigh and squeezed my hand. “I knew you’d come to your senses. Remember, the job is only temporary. And, if you’re still interested in owning a business, once we’re back in New York and on the other side of this setback, I’ll see if I can find the time to teach you.”

  I nodded, trying to smile back. Finding a job was for the best. For everyone. I reached over to pull the paper back to me, hoping he would take the hint and leave.

  He did.

  I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, re-reading the same ads over and over without anything sticking before I decided to just call it a day. Pour myself some wine, sit outside, and try and relax.

  I had to stop feeling sorry for myself. It was time for me to grow up and get my act together. It was just a job. I needed to get over myself.

  I saw movement in the corner of my eye. It was the black cat, creeping out of the woods, green eyes fixed on me. He slunk up to about ten feet away, and sat down, tail curling around his feet.

  My mood lifted considerably as I watched him. Maybe things weren’t as bleak as I thought they were.

  My cell phone rang, causing me to jump. It was CB.

  “You ignoring me now?” he asked in greeting.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to not call you back. It’s been crazy here.”

  “Crazy, huh? Now you’re definitely in trouble. How could you not fill me in?”

  I found myself glancing around, making sure I was alone. “It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated? Did you do something naughty?”