Ghost Moon (Haunting Romance)

by Kathryn Knight

  He snatched his hand away from her body, out of her grasp, as though she harbored some contagious disease. “This is a mistake,” he insisted, his voice low and firm.

  She shook her head, confused. “No. I haven’t had my courses in months. I’ve been ill in the mornings. I’m certain.”

  He backed away, out into the hallway. “No, I mean this is a mistake.” He gestured between the two of them. “You were sent to tempt me, and I was weak.”

  Dread coiled through her. What? No…John had brought her here to help with Martha. And then he had pursued her—relentlessly—pledging his love to her, promising to marry her someday, when he was free.

  She blinked, trying to understand. “But…I thought you wanted to be with me…after Martha…” Her words faded away, the sentence too awful to complete out loud. She swallowed back a sob. “That’s what you told me.”

  “Lower your voice,” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder toward the closed door of the master bedroom. He grabbed her upper arm. “Obviously you’ve misunderstood something. And you’ve gotten yourself into trouble. You’ll have to leave.”

  What was happening? She gaped at him, barely registering the pain of his fingers digging into her soft flesh. She’d gotten herself into trouble? He wasn’t going to take any responsibility? And now he was telling her she had to leave? Fear and confusion twisted in her belly. This wasn’t right. “But…I can’t leave. I have nowhere to go.” Her voice broke, and she dropped her head into her hands.

  “An unwed mother’s home.”

  Panic exploded in her chest, sharp and savage. “What?” she gasped, snapping her gaze back to his. “No! I’ve heard the stories of those places. They’ll take my baby. I won’t go.”

  “Quiet down!” he hissed, lowering his face over hers. Something dangerous glinted in the depths of his eyes. “You will. You can’t stay here.”

  The hallway tilted as her vision swam. Her world was crashing down around her, again. The unfairness of it all made her want to scream. But Martha was asleep in the bedroom behind them. “You said you loved me,” she whispered past the lump in her throat.

  He dragged his fingers through his hair, his head lowering in a small gesture of shame. “You cannot stay here. Martha will know.”

  A surge of hope bloomed. “I’ll say the baby is someone else’s.”

  He shook his head. “She already has suspicions about us. People in town have been gossiping. My standing is at stake. My livelihood is at stake. I’m the moral leader of this community.”

  She wrapped her arms around her chest in an attempt to quell the shaking. How could he betray her like this, after all the promises he’d made? “I won’t go,” she insisted, the tremor in her voice undermining her words.

  His gaze darted about the hallway before fixing back on her face. Cords bulged from his neck like taut ropes. “Then you will get rid of it,” he said through gritted teeth.

  She sucked in a breath. “What? No!”

  “Hush!”

  Her legs threatened to buckle, but she forced herself to stay upright. “I will not kill our baby! It’s against the law. It’s dangerous.” She narrowed her eyes at him to deliver her final argument. “It’s a sin.”

  The knob to the master bedroom turned, and both their heads swiveled as the door swung open. Martha stood in the threshold, confusion clouding her gaunt face. “What’s going on?” Her sleepy gaze sharpened as it flicked between them. “John? Eva? What’s wrong?”

  Martha! Martha would be her savior. Clutching her stomach, she moved away from John. “I’ve fallen pregnant,” she blurted out.

  A heavy silence hung in the air as they all traded shocked glances. Martha reeled backwards, reaching out to grip the doorway. She brought her free hand to her mouth as she regarded them both, understanding dawning in her eyes. “You…are expecting a baby?”

  This was it—her way out. Martha desperately wanted a baby, even though the likelihood of that happening had diminished along with her health. “Yes,” Eva confirmed with a rushed breath of relief. “I’m expecting a baby.” John reached out to silence her, but she darted away. “I’m pregnant with John’s baby, and he wants to kill it.”

  Martha’s eyes were glinting daggers as she turned them on her husband. “What? John? Is this true?”

  Dark red rage colored his face as he swung his gaze between them. “Martha, this does not concern you. Go back to bed.”

  Martha’s thin lips pressed into a tight line. Stepping forward, she shouldered her way past Eva. “I think it does. Is this young woman pregnant with your child?”

  John glared at her, refusing to respond. Eva took her chance. Latching on to Martha’s arm, she pleaded for help. “Please, Mrs. Holloway! I have nowhere else to go. I have no family left. This baby is all I have…I cannot kill it.”

  Martha pulled Eva behind her own slight frame. “You have dishonored our marriage, John. You have committed a grievous sin. But a miracle has arisen from your sin. We will be blessed with a baby, after all these years. We will raise this child as our own.”

  John’s hands balled into fists. “We will not! Everyone knows you are barren. Everyone will see that Eva’s with child. I will not lose my standing in our community over this.” He stabbed a finger over Martha’s shoulder at Eva. “She is a temptress! She led me astray, but I will not let her ruin me.”

  Martha stiffened. “You will not deprive me of this child. It is a gift from God.”

  “And you will not defy me,” he retorted, spittle flying from his lips. “‘Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church’.”

  “‘Do not kill the innocent and righteous, for I will not acquit the wicked,’” Martha shot back, answering his Biblical quote with her own.

  “I am the man of this house. She will not have this baby. She is a whore sent by the devil, and I will kill her before I let her bring shame on this family!” He lunged forward, arms reaching for Eva.

  “No!” Martha shouted, stepping into his path. “I won’t let you hurt her!”

  John’s hands missed Eva, latching instead onto his wife’s frail shoulders. As Eva backed away, the couple struggled, their cries echoing through the hallway. Years of anger and frustration played out in a moment that seemed to stretch each second into an eternity. Then suddenly time sped up as John’s final shout was accompanied by a powerful shove that sent Martha reeling.

  Eva froze as Martha’s body bounced off the bannister railing and spun toward the stairs.

  * * *

  Lark fought to surface from the horrific dream, struggling against the layers of sleep weighing her down. In one brief moment of consciousness, she understood that she’d just witnessed Martha’s death through Eva’s eyes. But the power holding her captive was too strong. Too determined. She was aware of her bare feet sliding to the floor of Jesse’s bedroom as the need to flee built deep within her, drowning everything else out.

  Then nothing beyond the ominous thudding of Martha’s body tumbling down the stairs. Cracking bones and a wheezing moan. The sickening fear of being next.

  Run! Hurry! She needed to save herself. Save the baby.

  21

  They both stared at Martha’s motionless body for an agonizing moment as time stood still. Was she alive? Eva willed her legs to move, to take advantage of this horrible turn of events. Martha couldn’t help her now. She had to get away from John, before he carried out his threats.

  She broke their stunned spell, darting from the corner of the hallway where she’d been cowering and racing down the stairs. She focused on the front door to keep her gaze away from Martha’s crumpled body. His footsteps pounded behind her, but he crouched over Martha as she flung open the door. The darkness beckoned, cool autumn air embracing her. And then his command followed her out: “Stop!”

  Stumbling down the porch steps, she slowed, her head swiveling. Where could she go? She could never outrun him. She need
ed to get to the woods, where she could hide. Closer to the house on the other side of the river, where maybe someone would hear her cries for help.

  Decision made, she tore around the side of the house and down the sloping hill of the yard, her breath hitching in jagged gasps. Was Martha dead? Was she next? She had to save the baby!

  The full moon hung above the trees, its reddish hue illuminating her flight. But the bright moonlight would make it more difficult to hide. She could hear John behind her now, gaining distance on her, but she refused to allow herself to look back. She couldn’t afford to lose her momentum. Or to trip and fall. Instead of angling toward the path, she plunged into the woods as soon as she approached the tree line.

  “Help!”

  Brambles reached up to rip her flesh; low branches slapped at her face. The pain barely registered beyond the panic. “Help me!” But it was too late. His heaving breaths filled her ears as he closed the distance between them.

  * * *

  Something cold and wet nudged his cheek, and Jesse rolled over. An insistent paw scraped his chest, and the accompanying whine finally dragged him from a deep slumber. With a sigh, he blinked in the darkness, wrinkling his nose as Bosco panted into his face. The pit bull stood over him on the bed, and Benny turned in nervous circles on the floor, his nails clicking against the wood. What was going on?

  He stretched his arm out, searching for Lark. His hand found only empty sheets, cool to the touch. “Lark?” he said, suddenly wide awake. Bosco let out a sharp bark, scrambling to the floor.

  Where was she? Sitting up, he snapped on the bedside lamp and scanned the room. Empty, and the door to the master bath was open, the light off. “Lark?” he called again, his voice rising with concern. He tossed back the covers and climbed out of bed, pulling on the shorts that had landed on the floor when they’d torn each other’s clothes off earlier.

  His pulse accelerated as he strode to the door and called out again, even louder. Had she gone down to the kitchen to get something to eat? His mind flashed to the note he’d found weeks ago, and he scrubbed his jaw. She wouldn’t have left like that, would she? They’d moved beyond that. Plus, they’d agreed it was safer for her to sleep here, after the second late-night scare in the woods.

  The woods. Could she have fallen into that same nightmarish trance here? Dread clutched at him as his gaze fell on the two agitated dogs. But he’d always heard her cries for help before, even when she’d been on the other side of the river. His eyes shot to the window and his blood turned icy. He’d shut the bedroom windows against the evening’s sticky heat, turning on the air conditioner to cool the house. With the windows closed, in his heavy sleep, he may not have heard her pleas for help. But the dogs had.

  He rushed to the top of the stairs, the dogs at his heels. The front door stood open.

  * * *

  John caught the back of her nightgown, and she stumbled, arms flailing for balance. “My wife is dead!” he growled as they continued their forward momentum together, locked in a horrific dance. “Devil!”

  No, she tried to cry, but she couldn’t catch her breath. Fear sliced through her as he gripped her waist, pushing her toward the bank of the river. No no no. He shoved her down, falling with her as she landed on her knees. “Please, no,” she whimpered between hitching sobs. How was this happening? He knocked her forward, using the weight of his own body to pin her to the ground. “‘You must purge the evil from among you,’” he muttered, his voice trancelike.

  The river caught the ends of her hair as he forced her head toward the water. Images of her family shuffled through her mind, and she prayed to them for help. Please, Mama. Tata. Babcia. Help me. Help my baby.

  His strong hands pushed her face under, and panic seized her, driving out every thought beyond the primal will to survive. Thrashing her arms, she struggled for purchase, but her hands only connected with the cold water, slapping weakly at the surface. Bubbles trailed from her nose as she fought for her life, the last of her air rushing out into the current.

  * * *

  She was dying. It was Eva’s memory, but it was Lark’s body. Lark’s face, pinned beneath the water. Lark’s lungs, screaming for air. Lark’s brain, begging for oxygen. Lark was going to die experiencing the final moments of Eva’s tragic life.

  No! The word flashed through her mind as she splashed at the surface of the river with numb hands. She was being held down, drowned, by something too strong to fight against. I understand, Eva, she begged silently. John killed Martha, and he killed you and your baby. I understand now! I know what happened!

  Blood pounded in her ears, the pressure building with every painful thud. A barbed-wire vise tightened inside her chest, ripping at her flailing heart. Every cell in her body demanded she take a breath. Now.

  Pain bulged behind her eyes, filling her skull as consciousness seeped away. With the last ounce of her strength, she struggled to lift her head against the force holding her captive. But it was impossible. She couldn’t move. She was trapped in a nightmare from the past. What do you want, Eva? I understand now! Please!

  Her hair swirled through the current, tangling in her fingers as they went limp. Air. Need air. The instinct to take a breath was too much to resist. Succumbing, she sucked the river into her lungs, and blackness descended.

  22

  The brutal pain was gone, the fire in her lungs vanquished. But a hazy sense of confusion remained. Where was she? Lost. Floating. Untethered.

  Far off in the distance, a light beckoned. A gentle force seemed to be tugging her toward it, but a horrifying scene held her in place. The woods were now below her, the moonlight rippling on the dark river like tiny flames. And her body lay sprawled beside the bank, pale and lifeless.

  A sound registered. A steady snick of metal hitting dirt. Grunts of effort, the clang of a blade against rock. Her field of vision expanded, as though she were being lifted skyward by a balloon.

  At the edge of the woods, where the trees gave way to the backyard of the house she’d called home for the last year, John was digging. A large tangle of wild bushes had been unearthed and set aside. Through the darkness, she watched the hole grow deeper and wider.

  Then she watched as he dragged her body through the woods and rolled it into the gaping earth. He replaced the dirt, replanting the bushes and scattering pine needles. Over what had just become her grave. And her child’s.

  Carrying the shovel, John trudged back up to the house. Eva could no longer see the distant light, or feel its warmth. All she felt was grief and rage, so she followed the man who had caused it all.

  * * *

  He raced toward the woods, his heart pounding, the dogs galloping beside him. He hadn’t bothered to try to keep them inside as he’d shot out the open front door. They didn’t wander or play, apparently sensing the dire urgency of the late night run.

  Please don’t let me be too late. Please. Please. He repeated the silent prayer in his head as he pushed his legs harder. With a surge of speed, he brought the river into view. Oh, God. She was there, hanging limply over the bank, in exactly the same spot he’d found her before. Instead of bothering with the bridge, he tore right into the river, splashing through the hip-deep water to get to her. “Lark!”

  She didn’t respond. Her naked body was still and lifeless in the moonlight, her arms dangling in the water. Please, no.

  He hoisted her upper body out of the water the second he reached her, and horror surged through him as her head lolled forward, heavy with water, devoid of life. “Please, Lark,” he begged her as he dragged her up the river bank. “Wake up.”

  But she wasn’t asleep, caught in a dream like the other times. No breath lifted her chest or warmed his cheek, and his trembling fingers found no pulse. She was dead.

  “No!” he yelled, rolling her onto her side. Water trickled from her mouth and nose. He flipped her onto her back again and titled her head, pinching her nose and covering her lips with his. He pushed two full breaths into her lungs,
the immediately locked his hands over her breastbone and began chest compressions. “Come on, Lark,” he murmured as he counted. “Come on, baby.”

  He administered another set of rescue breaths, forcing oxygen into her lungs. As he lifted his head to resume compressions, a torrent of water gushed from her mouth. A gurgling noise rattled her throat, and she expelled more water in a violent fit of coughing.

  Relief crashed over him, and all he wanted to do was yank her up into his arms in a grateful embrace. But his military and medical training kept him focused. He rolled her to her side again, allowing the river water to drain from her lungs. As she retched, he did his best to assess her vital signs, pressing his fingers into the inside of her cold wrist. Her pulse was weak, but it was there. Thank you, God.

  He wished he had his phone. And a blanket. He rubbed his hands over her body, trying to warm her flesh. When her coughing stopped and her breathing steadied, she turned her face up to look at him. “I—” she croaked, sputtering again.

  “Shh. Don’t try to talk. You’re going to be fine, okay? Just rest and focus on breathing.”

  She nodded, but as he lifted her into his arms, she tried again. “Drowned,” she managed.

  “But you’re okay now.”

  “No. Eva drowned. I know what happened now.” A shuddering cough wracked her body. “I saw it all.”

  “We’ll talk about it later, okay? Right now you need to save your strength. We’re going back to the house, and then we’re going to the hospital.”

  She made a low sound of disapproval, but this was not an argument she would win. Explaining exactly what had happened to the paramedics might be difficult, but he was calling an ambulance the second they got back to the house. He’d have to bend the truth, leaving out the details involving the supernatural. Thoughts swirled through his brain, but he pushed them away. The only thing that mattered was making sure she was completely out of danger. He shifted her weight, finding his balance, and carried her out of the woods, the dogs trailing behind them like silent sentries.