by Lynn LaFleur
“You could ask Miss Maebelle to be sure.”
“Who’s Miss Maebelle?” Alaina asked Griff.
“Maebelle Griffith, Lanville’s historian. She’s kept records of the town for the last fifty years.”
“Gracious, how old is she?”
“Probably early eighties. She took over the job from her mother about fifteen years ago. Do you remember her mother, Lucille Griffith?”
She shook her head. “I moved away from Lanville when I was thirteen. There are a lot of people I don’t remember.”
“If anyone knows about ghost sightings in this house, it would be Miss Maebelle. She can remember dates and facts better than a lot of people half her age.”
Alaina turned to Rye. “Can we go see her?”
He’d do whatever she wanted, yet couldn’t ignore the doubt deep inside that Laura Cummins’ ghost existed. “Sure.”
His tone must have given away his feelings for Alaina sat back in her chair, a discouraged look on her face. “You don’t believe me. Even with finding the painting behind the bookcase, you still don’t believe me.”
He glanced at his brothers. Dax gave a slight shrug. Griff frowned and shook his head, as if to tell Rye not to blow it. Rye decided his youngest brother was a very wise man.
“Alaina, I believe there are a lot of things in this world that can’t be explained by logic. You believe you saw Laura Cummins’ ghost. I don’t doubt that.”
He was rather proud of the way he’d commented without disputing her ghost sighting. She gave him a look that clearly said she knew he was dancing around the subject to keep from declaring his disbelief to her again. She didn’t say anything as she picked up the rest of her burrito and popped it into her mouth.
He hated that he hurt her yesterday when he didn’t answer her question about trusting her. He didn’t want to hurt her again.
“We’ll go see Miss Maebelle when she gets to her office.”
Alaina’s smile lit up her eyes. “Thank you.”
*
Miss Maebelle looked like Mrs. Santa Claus. That was Alaina’s first impression of the white-haired lady with the little square glasses on her nose. She wore a loose, short-sleeved print dress that hung straight to mid-calf. Her blue eyes twinkled when she smiled, just as Alaina imagined Mrs. Claus’ would.
She thought Miss Maebelle was adorable.
The older woman took Alaina’s hand in both of hers after Rye introduced them and squeezed it. “Welcome to Lanville, Alaina.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you.”
“So nice to meet you. Please, sit down.”
She led the way to a sitting area with four overstuffed chairs set in a circle with a round table in the middle. A tiny kitchenette held a refrigerator, microwave and coffee maker. Bookshelves lined three walls and created aisles across the floor. Filing cabinets filled the fourth wall.
Alaina had always loved the smell and feel of books. She imagined working here, surrounded by the town’s history, had to be very rewarding.
“Can anyone look at these books?” Alaina asked.
“Oh yes. I’m here from nine o’clock to four o’clock six days a week. The newer books can be checked out, but the older ones can’t leave the building. That’s why I have this sitting area so someone can be comfortable while they read.”
“The county donated this building,” Rye said to Alaina, “but private donations run it.”
“Your family has been very generous with your donations, Rye.”
“History is important. That’s why we’re here.”
“I’m happy to help if I can. Would either of you like coffee or tea?”
“No, thank you.” Rye leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “Alaina bought Stevens House to remodel for a bed-and-breakfast.”
“I heard that.” Miss Maebelle smiled at Alaina. “I think it’s wonderful. Lanville needs more places for people to stay.”
Rye nodded, then looked at Alaina. “You want to explain everything to her?”
Alaina nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to sound like an idiot. “Have you ever heard of someone seeing a ghost in Stevens House?”
Miss Maebelle picked up the strand of long pearls around her neck and ran them through her fingers. “I’ve never heard anything about a ghost. I don’t have a record of any sightings. Are you worried the house is haunted?”
“Not exactly worried, but…” She scooted forward in her chair. “I’ve seen the ghost of Laura Cummins. Three times.”
Miss Maebelle’s eyes widened before a huge smile broke over her wrinkled face. “Really? How fascinating! Tell me all about it.”
“You don’t think it’s strange that Alaina thinks she…” Rye stopped and started again. “That Alaina has seen a ghost?”
“Oh goodness, no! There’s a ghost in the courthouse, you know.”
Alaina looked at Rye. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“It’s just an old wives’ tale.”
Miss Maebelle straightened and her chin lifted an inch. “It is not. I’ve heard it walking around, and so have a lot of other people.”
Rye sat back in his chair again. “But don’t you think it’s strange that no one else has seen the ghost in Stevens House except Alaina? A lot of people have lived in that house over the years. You just said no one ever reported any sightings.”
Miss Maebelle looked at Alaina. “Perhaps the ghost had a message for you.”
“She did. She led me to two paintings.”
Now smiling again, the older woman turned her attention back to Rye. “There you go.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense! Alaina moved away from here when she was thirteen. She’d never stepped inside that house until a couple of weeks ago. It isn’t logical that this ghost would appear to her and no one else.”
“Yes, it is.” Alaina swallowed again and lifted her gaze to Rye’s. “Laura Cummins was my great-great-aunt.”
Chapter Sixteen
April 28, 1937
He came into the store after school with his son. I overheard him telling my father that his wife would leave for Oklahoma City this afternoon to visit her sister. He laughed and said he’d be a bachelor for the next week.
Laura hadn’t said anything about a break in her tutoring lessons with Patrick. I casually asked him if his wife would be taking the children with her. He said no, that they had to stay in school. Plus, he didn’t want to interrupt Patrick’s tutoring lessons with Laura since they were helping so much. My father beamed at the compliment to his youngest daughter.
I headed to the back of the store to replace an item on the shelf that Mrs. Kinson decided not to buy. When I turned around, he was right behind me. His eyes looked like chips of ice. He told me he knew I didn’t approve of Laura tutoring his son, but I would be wise to leave things alone.
I have to make sure Laura never goes back to that house.
*
Rye wrapped his hands tightly around the steering wheel and stared straight ahead through the windshield. He could feel Alaina’s gaze on him, but refused to return it.
She’d kept something from him. Again.
He didn’t expect her to spill her life story after knowing him for only two weeks. But he couldn’t imagine why she didn’t tell him that her family had a history in Stevens House, just like his family did.
Rye pulled into his regular parking spot at the back of the house. Turning off the ignition, he blew out a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid,” she said in a small voice.
Surprised at her answer, he turned his head toward her. “Afraid of what?”
She lifted her gaze from her clasped hands and looked at him. “That you wouldn’t want anything to do with me when you found out your great-grandfather was hanged for the murder of my great-great-aunt.”
“Why would you think that?”
“You didn’t want anything to do with me because o
f what happened with my sister. Why would I think other members of my family wouldn’t affect you the same way?”
He supposed she had a point, but things still didn’t make sense to him. “I don’t understand why I didn’t know about your family’s involvement in this whole thing. Alesia never said anything about it.”
“Alesia didn’t care about her ancestors. She didn’t care about anything but herself. Plus our last name was Pearson. There was no reason for you to associate a Pearson with a Cummins.” Alaina shifted in her seat and turned toward him. “After Laura was killed, her parents and her sister, Miriam—my great-grandmother—moved to Kansas. Miriam married and had two sons. My great-uncle had three children, my grandfather had my mother.”
“How did your family end up back in Lanville?”
“My dad came through town on his fancy Harley and my mother fell for him with one look. He was the bad boy, the kind my mom couldn’t ever date. He asked her to elope after four weeks. She agreed. They traveled around the country, my dad picking up work at the nuclear plants. I’m not sure what he did there, but he was really good at his job and made a lot of money at it. Alesia was born, then me three years later. My mom was ready to settle down with a home of her own. My dad got a job at Comanche Peak in Glen Rose and they moved to Lanville.” She shrugged. “End of story.”
“Not quite. How did you find out about Laura’s murder and that you were related to her?”
“From Miriam’s diary. My grandfather gave it to me. He’d found it in my great-grandmother’s possessions when she passed away. He said he’d forgotten about it until he started going through his paperwork shortly before he died. He wanted to be sure everything was in order with his estate.”
“He’s the one who left you the five million?”
Alaina nodded. “We’d always been close while I was growing up, even though he lived in Kansas and we lived in Texas. We talked on the phone a lot and visited as often as possible. My mom inherited the rest of his estate, which amounted to about nine million.”
“And Alesia?”
“One hundred thousand dollars. Which pissed her off royally since my grandfather was worth so much. I think he did that simply because she was his granddaughter. They’d never been close.”
“Why did he give Miriam’s diary to you and not your mother?”
“My grandfather moved to Texas and had a house built behind my mom’s three years ago. He wanted to be closer to her and me, and we both wanted him to be close to us. I was visiting with him one day in December and we were chatting about family. I mentioned that I’d thought about researching my ancestors. I thought that would be fun to do. That’s when he gave me Miriam’s diary, because I’d shown an interest in ancestry.” She looked down for a moment. “He passed away four days later at age seventy-seven.”
“Is that why you wanted Stevens House so badly, because of your family ties?”
She nodded again. “My family lived in this area for generations. I wanted to be a part of that history.”
“What happened to your father? I know he left town about eight years ago.”
Alaina shrugged. “I haven’t heard from him in years. I don’t know if he’s still alive.” She reached up and laid her hand over his on the back of the seat. “I’m sorry for not telling you that I’m related to Laura, but do you understand why I didn’t? I didn’t want to lose you.”
Rye took her hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed the palm. “No more holding back again. I want us to be totally honest with each other, no matter what. Okay?”
She gave him a tender smile. “Okay.”
*
Alaina swept up sawdust and debris from the kitchen floor. All the lumber had been examined and moved, the damaged pieces taken to the circular saw on the veranda to cut off the wet, charred parts. Sweat formed between her breasts and ran down her back. Although barely eighty degrees outside, it had to be over ninety in the house. She’d be so glad when air-conditioning could be installed. The Colemans’ crew would probably be glad too.
She dumped the contents of the dustpan in a large garbage can. As long as she had the broom and dustpan in her hands, she decided she might as well make a trip through the house and clean up after the guys. They were scattered over the top two floors, so Alaina headed for the stairs.
The sound of nail guns and hammers greeted her when she reached the second floor. Peeking into the bedroom on her left, she saw Justin and Rory hard at work. They’d torn out the old window and were building a frame for the new one. She paused long enough to wave to them, then walked between skeletons of two-by-fours in what would eventually be a hallway toward what used to be the master bedroom.
There was a large plastic garbage can in each room, and the guys were good about pitching their trash, wood pieces and old nails into them. Sometimes they missed the can, so there was usually quite a bit for Alaina to sweep up every day. She didn’t mind. Every pile of sawdust she swept up brought her that much closer to her dream.
She dropped both broom and dustpan when she felt the cold air wash over her. Alaina turned around, searching for Laura. The ghost began to appear, but vanished again. As quickly as she’d disappeared, she reappeared, her eyes tightly closed, her fists clenched.
“You can do it, Laura. Concentrate.”
Laura finally took form. Her head was down, her shoulders slumped as if it had taken a great effort on her part to materialize.
“Are you okay?” Alaina asked. Well, that’s a stupid question. She’s a ghost. Of course she’s not okay.
Laura lifted her head and slowly straightened her shoulders. A determined look filled her eyes. Gliding to the other side of the bedroom, she pointed to the floor in the corner.
Alaina’s heart slammed against her ribs. “Is there another painting under the floorboards?”
Laura nodded.
“Are there more in the house?”
The ghost shook her head. And vanished.
Crossing the floor, Alaina peered at the old wooden planks that hadn’t yet been replaced. There must be a trap door of some kind, like there was in the turret window seat.
Screwdriver time again.
With Rory’s screwdriver clasped tightly in her fist, Alaina returned to the master bedroom. Dropping to her knees, she searched for a latch or indentation in the wood that would indicate a door.
The jangling of items in a tool belt drew her attention from the floor. She looked over her shoulder to see Rye standing behind her. His eyes were narrowed.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for a trap door.”
He squatted down beside her. “And why do you think there’s a trap door here?”
“Laura told me.”
“You said the ghost can’t talk.”
“She can’t. But she pointed to this spot and nodded when I asked her if there’s another painting here.”
Rye rubbed his mustache. Alaina braced herself for the negative comments he would make. Instead of saying anything, he held out his hand.
“What?”
“Give me the screwdriver. I’ll help you.”
She gladly handed over the tool and sat on the floor. Rye took a hammer from his tool belt and dropped to his knees. After a moment of examining the boards much as she had, he slipped the screwdriver under the edge of a board and tapped the head with the hammer. The board came loose.
He pried up four boards that were hooked together. Alaina peered over his shoulder to see another rectangular item wrapped in burlap.
Rye drew the item out of the floor and handed it to Alaina. She carefully unwrapped it to find yet another painting of the riverbank.
“That’s downtown, behind the feed store. The river makes a sharp turn and forms that deep cove. I’ve fished in there dozens of times.”
Alaina gazed at the tumble of water over rocks, the trees swaying in the breeze. Everything looked so real. Whoever painted these landscapes was incredibly talented.
She wished s
he knew who had created them.
“Laura said this is the last one. I mean, I asked her if there are any more in the house and she shook her head.”
Rye slipped the hammer and screwdriver into his tool belt. “Then I guess it’s time to get them framed.”
“Hey, Rye,” Griff called out. “Vince is here. He has a couple of questions about the doors.”
“Be right there.” He took the painting from Alaina. “I’ll put this in the living room with the other two. We can go to Fort Worth this weekend. After we drop off all three to be framed, we can have dinner and see a movie.”
Alaina smiled, happy that he finally seemed to accept her visions of Laura Cummins. “I’d like that.”
“You going downstairs?”
“I think I’ll finish sweeping up here first.”
He gave her a hand to pull her up, then headed for the stairs. Alaina picked up her broom and dustpan to finish her job. It was almost five-thirty, meaning the crew had already left. Every muscle in her body ached. Deciding the sweeping could wait until tomorrow, she set the broom and dustpan in the corner and walked toward the stairs.
Cold air washed over her before she could take the first step. She froze, waiting for Laura to appear.
She didn’t have to wait long. Laura hovered over the stairs. She held her arms out, then brought her hands together and interlocked her fingers.
Alaina didn’t understand what the ghost was trying to tell her. “I don’t know what you want.”
Laura held up three fingers.
Alaina felt like stomping her foot in frustration. She wished Laura could talk. “Three what?” Suddenly, it clicked in her mind. “You mean the paintings, don’t you?”
Laura nodded. Once again, she held her arms out and brought her hands together, fingers interlocked.
“You want the paintings joined?”
Laura nodded even harder.
“How?”
The ghost vanished.
“Well, shit,” Alaina muttered. “I wish you’d stick around longer.”
She hurried down the stairs, eager to tell Rye what happened. She found him in the living room with his brothers and Vince. He gave her a quick smile before turning his attention back to Vince. She wandered into the dining room for something to drink while he finished the conversation with his glazer.