“Doubtful. I’ve been over every inch of the place. Other than some really great antiques, wonderful atmosphere, and a great lunch menu—they serve a daily Cajun brunch as part of the admission price—there’s nothing helpful.”
“I’d like to pay a visit anyway. Could you draw me a map?”
“I’ll do one better. I’ll show you.”
Harvey was right. They served a fabulous brunch. Craw-fish salad. Shrimp étouffée. Crème brûlée. Her taste buds were happy and content as she walked through three stories of authentic period life, complete with a tour guide dressed as a Civil War-era Southern belle.
“I told you. There’s nothing here,” he said as the tour ended and they found themselves on the front steps of the main house.
She sat down and breathed a deep sigh, her gaze sweeping the immaculate lawn. Sunlight winked off a stone fountain a few feet away and Ronnie stared at the mirrorlike surface while Harvey went back inside to the gift shop to buy some homemade pecan pralines.
There had to be something. She knew it. She felt it deep inside, a sense of expectancy—
Her gaze stalled as she caught sight of a small white cottage partially hidden behind a deep grove of oak trees.
“Excuse me,” she asked the Southern belle guide. “Who lives in that cottage?”
“No one, ma’am. It’s part of the tour.”
“Why didn’t we get to see it?”
“It’s been closed recently to have the floors redone. You wouldn’t believe the wear and tear on hardwood floors with so many people in and out.”
“Can I see it?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s off-limits.” The woman started to walk away.
Ronnie stopped her. “What’s the significance of the cottage?”
“It belonged to Miss Emma’s momma. Spent her last days there.”
Claire. Ronnie’s heart was beating ninety to nothing by the time Harvey returned with the pecan pralines.
“Harvey.” She steered him toward the cottage. “That cottage belonged to Emma’s mother.”
“So?” he asked around a mouthful of praline.
“So maybe there’s something inside. Something that might clue us in.”
“I’ve been inside. There’s nothing.”
“Let’s check it out anyway.”
“It’s closed,” he said as she started to haul him forward by the arm.
“We’ll just look in the window.”
Seconds later, Ronnie stood on tiptoes and stared through a window covered with lace sheers.
“See anything?” Harvey asked behind her.
She blinked and focused her eyes. “A table and chairs. A sewing machine. A hope chest. A Bible—”
“A Bible?” Harvey shoved her aside and peered into the window. “A Bible.” He smiled.
“What’s the big deal about a Bible …?” Her words faded as she remembered something she’d read in one of the genealogy books. “People wrote family trees down in Bibles,” she said, excitement pumping through her veins. “And dedications. And important names and dates.”
“Bibles were the earliest form of records,” Harvey said. “And while I’ve seen most everything there is that belonged to the Warrens, I haven’t seen that book.”
“Claire might have written down the father’s name.”
“If she knew the father’s name,” Harvey pointed out. “Maybe she didn’t know. Maybe that’s why Emma didn’t know.”
“Maybe. But it’s still worth checking out, don’t you think?”
“I’ll go find the security guard and have him let us in.”
“Can you do that?”
“I’ve been officially commissioned by the estate to write the Warren history. I have legal access to all documents.”
“But I’ve been commissioned by the Warren estate,” Harvey sputtered for the countless time to a very mean-looking security guard fifteen minutes later. The guard stood in front of the cottage door and barred any entrance.
“The cottage is closed for the next month,” the man said.
“But I need to get inside now.”
The guard shook his head. “Next month. Opens up the fifteenth.”
“Sir,” Ronnie said, stepping in when Harvey turned a beet-red color. “You don’t understand. This man has legal access to what’s inside, and we have to get inside today, just to look around a minute. We won’t disturb anything.”
“Next month.”
“But we’re here now.”
The guard shook his head. “I’ve got my orders.”
“Come on,” Harvey said, grabbing Ronnie’s hand.
“But we have to get inside—”
“We will.”
“How?”
“I’ll contact the estate lawyer, who will call someone at the historical society, who will send someone out here to seize the Bible and turn it over to me.”
“And how long does all that take?”
“A few weeks.”
“Weeks?”
“Three, tops. Either way, we’ll get to it before the fifteenth of next month.”
But Ronnie didn’t intend to wait three weeks. She couldn’t. What if Norman hadn’t been scared away? Okay, chances were, he had been. But there was always the slight chance that he could come after the bed again, that maybe Ronnie wouldn’t be there this time, that he would succeed and send Val straight to…
Then there was also the matter of her own lust, the way she melted when Val came near. What if he set his mind on seduction, consequences be damned, and she didn’t stop him…
No! She was getting a look at that Bible even if she had to break into the cottage to do it.
“Let me see if I understand this. There is a Bible that may or may not contain the name of Emma’s father sitting in a cottage that is off-limits to the public, and so you want to break inside and take a look?” Val asked later that evening. He was little more than a shadow, yet she could still see him, feel him.
“That sums it up.”
He shook his head. “You’re insane.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of desperate, and I don’t care what you say, I’m doing it.”
“Then I shall go with you.”
She’d expected a lot of things, but that hadn’t been one of them. “And how do you plan to manage that? Oh, sure, I’ll just load the bed into the backseat of my car and off we go.”
“I have an easier way in mind.”
“And what would that be? In case you haven’t noticed, you’re a ghost, Val. Linked to this bed.”
“My spirit is.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That my spirit cannot walk out of this apartment, but my body can.”
“You don’t have a body,” she reminded him.
He motioned to the phone with a large, transparent hand. “So find me one.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I know this is going to sound crazy,” Ronnie started to say after she’d steered Danny into the nearest seat the moment he arrived at her apartment. “I didn’t believe it myself at first, but then I found the letters, and there he was, as plain as day.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Remember when I asked you whether you believed in ghosts?”
“Because you saw a ghost and he talked to you.”
“That’s right. He’s been talking to me for the past few weeks, tutoring me, to be more exact.” She pulled out her notebook and showed it to him. “I’ve accumulated enough data for the Guidry paper thanks to Val.”
“Val?”
“The ghost.”
“Right.”
“That’s why I called you. You see, in order for him to tutor me, I sort of had to offer him a favor in return.”
“You guys made a deal?”
“Right. Anyhow, I offered to find out the truth about this woman he supposedly had a fling with, way back when, that may or may not have resulted in a child.”
“In
return for love lessons?”
“Right.”
“Right.”
“Anyway, I think I might have found the one thing, a Bible, that might list who the father is—maybe or maybe not Val—and now all I need to do is to break into the Sunnydale Plantation Museum/Bed and Breakfast—they’ve closed part of the estate for remodeling and the security guard refused to let me in, otherwise, I wouldn’t have to break the law. Except it’s not really breaking the law since I don’t want to steal anything and have no malicious intent.”
“Technically, it’s still breaking the law.”
“Technically, yes, but not morally. Anyhow, I’ll be doing the breaking, you’ll just be entering.”
“Come again?”
“And carrying.”
“What are you talking about?”
She gave him a fierce stare and gripped his shoulders. “I need your body.”
“Ronnie, I don’t think we …” He pried her fingers loose and tried to inch away. “I mean, I like you and all, but not like that …”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, stupid. You’ve been looking cuter lately, I’ll give you that, but not that cute.”
“Cuter? Me?”
“Yes, but that’s beside the point. I need your body for the ghost. For Val. So he can come with me to the museum to get a look at Emma’s family Bible.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You volunteering your body. Val’s spirit is linked to my bed and—”
“My bed,” came a fierce voice.
Danny jerked back, his head snapping around. “Who said that?”
“You heard?” He nodded and she smiled. “That’s good. It means you believe.”
“In what?”
“The ghost. Val.”
“You mean he’s here?”
She glanced behind her to see Val pacing in front of the bed. “Right over there.”
Danny’s gaze followed the direction of Ronnie’s finger. He blinked and shook his head. “I don’t see anything.”
“He doesn’t completely believe,” Val told her.
“Who the hell was that?” Danny asked, jerking his head around searchingly.
“I told you. It’s Val.”
“The ghost?”
“Yup.”
“Right.” He turned back to her. “Look, Ronnie, it’s been great but I’m meeting Wanda at midnight and I’ve got a couple of hours of studying to do between now and then—” His words stalled as she gripped him by the collar.
“You can’t walk out on me. We need you.”
“Tell him about the possession,” Val said.
“Possession?” Danny spun around to look behind him again. “What possession?”
“Val needs to use your body, to possess it, but since it’s a forty-five-minute drive there, then back, and we have to allow for time in between for the breaking and entering, we’re looking at two to three hours minimum. There’s no way he can possess your body for that long unless you’re willing, especially since it’s only nine o’clock and his spirit isn’t at its best until midnight. But he could do it if you agree—”
“You want me to let someone possess my body?”
“Just Val. He won’t hurt anything. He didn’t the last time.”
“The last time?”
“When you … we … Last week,” she finished, none too anxious to remind Danny about the kiss if he didn’t remember. “When you were here. He possessed you for a few minutes, to help with a demonstration for my paper.”
“He possessed me?”
“You don’t have to sound so outraged. It was just for a little while, and after midnight. His spirit was strong, so he could suppress yours, but that was only for a few minutes. It’s one thing to suppress a spirit for five minutes here, ten minutes there, when you’re at your prime, and quite another to do it for several hours when you’re weak. Right, Val?”
“Exactly, ma belle.”
At Danny’s incredulous expression, she added, “He’s French. So what do you say?”
“I say you’ve overworked yourself right into a nervous breakdown.”
“I’m not crazy.”
“Sure.” He headed for the door again.
Ronnie reached out to stop him, but it was Val’s hand that gripped his collar and hauled him backward.
“I’m real,” Val growled.
“Who said that?” Danny stared wildly about, stumbling backward by the force of a hand he couldn’t see. “Who said that? Who’s doing that?”
“A ghost,” Ronnie told him.
“I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“Even when the proofs got you by the collar?” Val asked.
Danny’s eyes widened as he flailed, pulling and tugging against the invisible hand.
“You can’t get loose,” Ronnie pointed out. “What’s holding you if it isn’t a ghost?”
“M-maybe you’ve got an electromagnetic force in your ceiling that’s drawing me,” he stammered. “Or there’s a superconducting current flowing through your apart—”
“Explain the ten inches,” Val cut in, and Danny’s struggles ceased. He went as white as a sheet.
“How do you know …?” Danny’s voice faded in a wave of shock as his head swiveled and his gaze fixed on Val. “Y-you’re real. You’re … that is, you’re …”
“A ghost,” Val said. “That’s what we’ve been telling you.”
“You’re responsible for the ten inches?” Danny asked, and Val nodded.
“Ten inches?” Ronnie’s puzzled glance shifted from Danny to Val. “What are you talking about?”
“His—” Val started, but Danny cut him off.
“It’s a guy thing,” he blurted out, before directing a worshipful look at Val. “So when do we leave?”
“How are you doing?” Ronnie cast a sideways glance at Danny.
“You asked me that five minutes ago. And five minutes before that.”
“And?”
“And the answer is, I was perfectly fine then and I am perfectly fine now,” Val growled. “Are we almost there yet?”
Ronnie made the last turn that led down the drive to the Sunnydale Plantation. “Just about. Though I thought we’d park down the road and go the rest on foot. Can you do that?”
He grinned, but it wasn’t a Danny expression. It was pure Val, from the slight tilt of his lips to the bright blue of his eyes. Blue. She still couldn’t believe it.
“You’re sure you’re up to it?”
“I am not an invalid, Rouquin. It’s a bit crowded in here, but quite comfortable.”
“Can Danny hear me?”
“He’s resting, otherwise I wouldn’t have the strength for this. It’s still an hour shy of midnight. Thankfully, your friend is willing.”
“Could you do that forever? Possess someone, I mean. If they were willing?” God, what was she thinking?
That she could get used to Val inside of Danny. Val inside anyone, as long as he was Val with those blue eyes and that wicked grin.
“If they were willing, perhaps for a little while. But not indefinitely. Even a willing spirit can only sleep so long, then it would fight for control. It’s human nature. Survival. Two spirits could never inhabit the same body. It isn’t allowed.”
“Like making the same fatal mistake twice?”
“Exactly.”
“The Hereafter sure has a lot of rules,” she snapped as she pulled off to the side of the road just beyond a thick patch of trees that would effectively conceal her car from the road. “Okay, here’s the plan,” she started, but Val was already unfolding himself from the car.
“Wait here,” he growled.
“But you can’t go in there by yourself.”
“I can and I will.” He nailed her with a fierce stare. “Regardless of the motive, this is illegal, Rouquin. I won’t ask of you something this risky.”
“You didn’t ask. I volunteered.”
“Stay.” He slammed the door and st
arted walking.
“Not on your life,” she muttered, sliding from behind the wheel.
She’d taken five steps before he whirled on her. “What the Devil are you doing?”
“Following you.”
“Go back to the car.”
“You don’t really want that.”
“Mais oui, I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Merde!” He planted his hands on his hips. “I do.”
“But I have a plan. Do you have one?”
“To walk in and look at that bible.”
“You can’t just walk in. The building is locked.” She smiled. “But I cased the place earlier, and I know how we’re going to get in.”
“How?”
She sprinted ahead of him. “If I told you, you wouldn’t need me.”
“Damn woman—” he started, but Ronnie cut him off.
“I know, I know. I’d be the death of you, but you’re already dead, which is why we’re here. Come on.”
“I could have figured this out on my own,” Val said as he reached inside the window he’d just broken and unlocked the latch. “And you could have stayed in the car.”
“And what would you do here in the dark?” She shined her pinlight flashlight in his face. “At least I had the forethought to bring a light. You should be grateful.”
“I’ll be grateful if you stay put right here,” he said, hefting himself through the window. “Outside.”
“If I stay, so does my flashlight.”
Val took one look at the darkened room, then turned to glare at Ronnie and held out his hand to help her through the window.
“I knew you’d see the error of your stubbornness.”
“There’s only one thing I want to see,” he said as he turned to survey the room. “Where is it?”
“There.” Her heart thundered ahead and she had the insane urge to grab his arm, to beg him not to look.
Selfish, she told herself. And futile. She and Val couldn’t go on the way they were. The connection between them was too powerful. They would come together eventually, and Val would lose his soul, and Ronnie would never forgive herself.
Peace was the only solution. The right one, she told herself despite the hesitation that gripped her when her flashlight fell on the bible.
Seconds later, they opened the book and Ronnie turned several pages until she found the family tree. A blaze of names glared back at her. “I knew it. It’s all filled out.” She scanned the page, the dread in her gut building. “Here’s Emma.” Her finger traced a path up to Claire’s name. Her gaze shifted to the opposite branch. The father.
In the Midnight Hour Page 25