“Jan? What brings you by?” I asked as I opened the door to find the older woman waiting on my steps. “Everything okay with Rachel?” Bad manners aside, I was truly surprised to see Jan here. She never came by anymore, not after all that had happened at Idlewood.
“Rachel is fine. I’m fine too. I have a friend who needs some help. You were the first person I thought of, Carrie Jo. I need to talk to you,” Jan said with a smile as she tugged her crocheted purse back up on her shoulder. “Privately, I mean.”
“What am I thinking? Please come in.” I hugged her and welcomed her inside. “The kids aren’t here, so it’s just us. They had a sleepover at Detra Ann’s last night, but I think they’ll turn up sooner rather than later. It’s been too long, Jan. Want some coffee?”
“No. None for me. I’ll take some water, though.” I grabbed my coffee cup, refilled it and then poured her a glass of water before settling down in my cozy kitchen corner. Green-hued sunshine filtered through the blinds. It promised to be a beautiful day. “I’ll get right to the point, Carrie Jo. That’s the only way I know how to be—I need your help. My friend’s daughter, Amara, she’s gone. Been gone for twenty-four hours. No one can find her, and I get a deep feeling that she’s in harm’s way. It’s not like her to be gone without notice. She’s always been an independent person and a responsible woman. It’s out of character for her, and Drew—that’s her father—he’s sick with worry. We went to high school together, Drew and I. Some years ago, as you can imagine. Anyway, Amara bought a house, a historic old place in Selma. She went down there from Birmingham, and that’s it. She’s vanished into thin air.” Jan’s voice broke as her concerns poured out of her unfettered.
I said, “Amara? That’s a beautiful name. Do I know her? Have we met?”
Jan’s nervous expression worried me, but she pressed on. “No, you haven’t met her, not as far as I know. She is a little older than you, but you have similar…interests.”
“Really? Is she a historian?”
“Amateur historian. Her love has always been the history of Selma. I loved her stepmother, Marnie. Now there was an exceptional woman. Marnie was one of those people that you met and instantly knew her life was meant for something special. And to see that life stolen from her…well, that just about killed us all. Including Amara. Marnie had a way of making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room. Like you were the only person that mattered. She was a private person, but you felt like you knew her. I considered Marnie to be one of my closest friends until she died. She never had children of her own, but she loved Amara immensely. They may as well have been blood because Marnie adored her. I like Drew, but it’s really for Marnie. That’s why I am here.”
“When did Marnie pass on?”
“It’s been over a decade. Amara’s father is desperate. Things got in the way of their relationship over the years—they were estranged until recently. He definitely didn’t want her to go back to Selma. That’s where Marnie was from. She used to own a home there. Gracefield is the name of it. That’s the house Amara bought and where she went and where she was last seen.” I couldn’t say why, but my feet were freezing, like a blast of arctic air was blowing up from the wooden floor. That couldn’t be right. The air wasn’t on, and there were no drafts in here. Jan didn’t seem to notice, which wasn’t like her at all. Jan Kowalski normally noticed everything. Absolutely everything. Amara’s disappearance had shaken her to the core. “Yes. Gracefield, that’s the name of the place.”
“Gracefield?” Now, that sounded familiar. I’d been reading something recently about homes in Selma. “Why does that sound so familiar? Hold on a second. The book I’ve been reading. Alabama’s Lost Homes is the name of it. Come with me, Jan.” I was glad to leave the kitchen where the air was suddenly so cold; I wished I was wearing something thicker than thin pajama pants and a t-shirt. I shuffled off to my office with Jan in tow. “What an odd coincidence.” I reached for the book and began flipping through the pages. “It was rebuilt in the 1870s, but there’s been a home there for much longer than that. I was checking it out because it has a unique floor plan. I have a client that is interested in something like this.”
Jan glanced over my shoulder at the pictures of the house. “And there’s the history. I’m sure you were drawn to the history.”
“I don’t know much about the history, honestly. Is that why Amara was there? Was she studying the history? Is that why she bought it?” I asked as I shuffled through the stack of books on my desk. There was another mention of Gracefield in one of these other books, but which one? I quickly found the book I was searching for—the house was a two-story with a boxy porch and delicate woodwork trim. Huh. I had it bookmarked but I didn’t remember doing that. In fact, I didn’t remember this bookmark at all. “Is this the house?”
“It’s been so long ago. I don’t know. It looks like it. Amara never lived there; neither did Marnie, not full time, but she would drive to Gracefield in the summer and piddle around in the lower rooms. Her grandmother was the last full-time resident at Gracefield. Marnie was an artist and loved painting. There can only be one Gracefield in Selma, right? Haunted Gracefield—that’s what Marnie called it. Even she thought it was haunted, but she wasn’t afraid of any of the ghosts there. But then again, I could be misremembering. I’ve been told I do that a lot now.” Her confession saddened me, and I put the book down and squeezed her hand. “That was a long time ago.” Jan plopped in the chair across from my desk. “Things are peaceful here, Carrie Jo.” It wasn’t a question, really. More like a declaration. She sighed and shook her head. She’d cut her hair short and was wearing it in a pixie style that suited her. “I know what I’m asking you might disturb that peace. It might make things different, and I don’t want that for you, but I don’t know who else to call. Maybe if you stayed away from Seven Sisters until it was done, maybe that would work.” Jan twisted her purse strap nervously and stared past me out the window.
“I can’t leave Seven Sisters, Jan. I live here with my family. But maybe you’re jumping the gun here. Chances are Amara just took a few days off. It sounds like she and her father weren’t getting along too well. Tell me what you know about Amara. I don’t know that I can help her, but we have to start somewhere.”
Jan’s damp eyes surprised me. I opened my desk drawer and pulled out a few tissues. As I handed them to her, she mumbled, “I’m just so worried. Marnie needs us to find Amara. She wants me to find her, and I can’t. I’m not well. I don’t know how much Rachel has told you, but…”
I came from around the desk and squatted beside her. I clutched her hands and said, “Jan, what is it?”
“I just don’t feel well. I can’t make the drive. It was a challenge just coming here with this numbness in my feet. It comes and goes. Neuropathy or something. I never thought I’d be an old lady. Guess I am.”
“Jan, you have the youngest soul of anyone I know.” I squeezed her hands as she calmed herself.
“I see her, Carrie Jo. In my mind. I have to find Amara for my friend, but I need your help.”
I squeezed her hand again and drew back when I heard the front door open and close. “I’m in here,” I called out. I didn’t hear little footsteps running toward me, so I assumed it was Ashland.
Wow, he actually did come back home.
“Drew is beside himself with grief, but the police department…. Oh, I didn’t tell you this part. Amara used to work for the police department in Greenville; they don’t want anything to do with this. She’s gone through a divorce recently, and then there’s the other matter. You probably saw it on television.”
“What matter?”
“A shooting involving a child. A boy. It was an accident, and even the department couldn’t argue with that, but Amara had to leave. Even in those circumstances, it tarnished her reputation. They wanted her to go, didn’t stand by her at all. It wasn’t her fault. I think that’s why she moved back to Selma. That and the divorce. She’s a haunted pers
on, Carrie Jo. If there was ever a haunted person, it’s Amara Cannon.”
I went back to my desk and grabbed a notepad and pen. I scribbled down a few notes, but it still wasn’t clear to me what exactly Jan wanted. What was she asking me to do? I’d never been approached to find someone like this. Not someone alive. If she was alive. Maybe she wasn’t.
“One more thing, Carrie Jo. Amara…is a dreamer. I think she’s a dream catcher.”
Chapter Five—Carrie Jo
Before she could explain what she meant, Ashland poked his head in the doorway. “Hey, Jan. Good to see you,” he said with a smile. He raised a Ladd’s Donuts paper bag and shook it at us. “I’ve got sweets. Who can say no to Ladd’s, right? I’ll make some more coffee.” Ashland didn’t kiss my cheek like he normally did. Another sign that things weren’t as they should be between us. Shoot. I couldn’t ask Jan what she meant with him here. Not after last night’s car “confessional.” But then again, keeping secrets never worked out well for us.
“Ashland,” I called as he disappeared down the hallway, “come back, please.” That’s when the front door opened again and my two kids came running into the house without a care in the world. I needed a few more minutes with Jan to get all the details. I was floored by her comment.
“Mommy!” my son said as he sailed into the office and threw himself into my arms.
“AJ! I’m so happy to see you! Did you have a good time with Chloe? Did you tie Aunt Detra Ann to a chair?” Jan got up from her chair and waited for her hug. Baby Boy was quick to give her just that.
Lily wasn’t as quick to crawl up in my lap as AJ was, or give out hugs, but she lurked in the doorway until she finally made her way over in her own time and hugged my neck. “He wouldn’t go to sleep last night, Aunt CJ. Uncle Henri told him Santa was coming in three months. Is that true?”
I kissed her cheek. “It sounds like AJ wasn’t the only one not sleeping. Yes, Santa Claus is coming like he does every year but not until December. It’s not even September yet. It’s August. We’ve got plenty of time to write Santa a letter.”
“Granny Jan!” Lily just noticed our family friend. Now Jan, she came right up to and hugged immediately. “Did you bring me something? You always bring me something!”
“Lily, that’s not nice. You can’t ask for gifts, dear.”
Jan smiled as she dug in her crocheted purse for the expected treat. “Sure she can. She knows Granny Jan has her covered. Yes, I brought you something. It has been waiting here in my purse the whole time.”
Lily clapped her hands and her twists of curls bounced around her head as I held AJ tight. He didn’t want to leave me for some reason. Totally not like this boy at all.
“What is it? You have to show me!” Lily clapped her hands some more and jumped up and down.
“Lily, don’t forget your manners,” I reminded her.
Her excitement vanished and she said politely, “Excuse me. May I see what it is?”
“Sure, here you go.” Jan deposited a rock into her hand.
Lily looked puzzled. “It’s a rock, Granny Jan. It’s not a real gift. Just a rock. Is this a trick?”
“Oh, I thought you were an artist.”
Lily glanced from Jan to the rock again. “I am. This isn’t art.”
“Well, it will be. You have to come up with a design and then paint it. And when you’re done, you give it to someone that needs it. It’s like a magic rock. How does that sound? Do you have a bit of magic in you?”
“I think so.” Lily liked that idea and studied the rock. I could see her creative mind brewing a few possibilities. “Can I work on this now?” she asked me sweetly.
“Yes, but if you’re going to paint, do it at your desk and put the mat down first. And close the door.” I eyed AJ, who was already getting excited about the prospect of painting. “No, son. No painting for you right now.” To that, my son howled in disappointment.
“Aunt Carrie Jo, Detra Ann wants you to come out to the car. Chloe is sick—she’s been throwing up since she woke up this morning. It’s kind of gross. Thanks, Granny Jan!” Lily left us, and I put AJ on the ground. He promptly went in search of his dad, who he was sure would let him paint. Wrong idea, kid. He’d gotten so moody the last few weeks—and completely obsessed with playing with Lily. This was a complete turnaround from the kid who only wanted to play by himself all the time. I watched as he changed his mind and came back. He had his finger in his mouth.
“Hold me, Mommy.”
“Not right now, AJ. Why don’t you stay with Granny Jan and I’ll be right back? I have to go outside for a minute.”
“No! Don’t leave me, Mommy. Please don’t go!” He began to cry, and it shocked me so badly I knelt in front of him to get a good look at his squinched-up face. Was he sick too?
“I’m not leaving for good, kiddo. I’m just trying to take care of Aunt Detra Ann. What is it, AJ?” Tears slid down my son’s face. He was a miniature of his handsome father. Speaking of his father, where was the World’s Greatest Dad anyway? Have another kid indeed! I walked out into the hall to look for Ashland. With Lily racing up the stairs to crack open her paint collection and AJ having a screaming fit, I could use the help. Was he deaf or something?
“I don’t want you to go, Mommy.”
I glanced at Jan; she had joined us in the hallway and was carefully avoiding my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere at the moment, AJ. Except outside. Now let’s go get some donuts, okay?”
“Come here, dear boy. I have something special for you too. Right here in my purse,” Jan said as she held her arms out to my son.
But he refused to be lured away from me. “No! I don’t want anything. Mommy…” Ashland James cried all the harder at her attempts.
“Don’t cry, baby. I really don’t know why in the world you’re crying. I haven’t said anything about leaving. Take a look at what Granny Jan has in her hand. What is that? Is that Mario? Is he a Super Mario?”
Mario from Nintendo was AJ’s new favorite character, and boy, did he love playing Mario Kart. At least we weren’t having to watch nonstop Brick the Builder videos anymore. AJ stopped his crying and allowed me to put him down. In a few seconds, it was just as if he had forgotten all about me. How could Jan have known that small toy would have been right for AJ? It was like she was some sort of a miracle worker. I wondered what else she had in her bag…maybe a love potion that would rekindle romances. Of course, I didn’t ask.
“Come on, you two. Let’s go get those donuts before they are all gone.”
“Okay, Mommy,” AJ answered me quite happily now.
Jan walked beside me and smiled at the sight before we went into the kitchen to join my husband. My plan was to leave AJ with Ashland so I could go outside to visit Detra Ann and her sick child. No need to do that, though. Ashland was outside in the driveway, and Detra Ann was about to drive off. Rats! I needed to ask her about Fall Ball and see if there was anything I could do for Baby Chloe.
“Excuse me, Jan. I’ll be right back,” I whispered as I stepped into the hallway. I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror.
Only it wasn’t my face that stared back at me. I was looking at another woman’s face, but the illusion only lasted a few seconds. Dark hair, tanned skin, dark eyes. Slight build. Like an athlete. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi. And she was gone. I’d never seen her before, nor had Jan described her to me, but I knew who that woman had to be. First the bookmark and then seeing Amara.
Yes, I saw Amara!
Whether she was dead or alive, I couldn’t tell. Not yet. But I would. I had to know. I had seen her, and the woman herself was reaching out to me.
Another dream catcher needed me!
I wasn’t afraid; I wasn’t terrified. Instead, I felt confident. Confident that I could actually help Amara—and she knew it! She must be alive! Right?
I headed outside to speak with Detra Ann, but they drove off before I could get outside good. The image of Amar
a stuck in my mind. In just a bit, I’d look for her on social media. I knew I would find her. I knew what she would look like. I just knew. Henri waved at me from the backseat as he tended to his sick daughter. “Uh-oh. That doesn’t look good. I hope our kids don’t get sick too.” Ashland apparently didn’t see me come outside because he looked very surprised to see me. “Is Chloe okay?” I added. “Stomach bug, maybe?”
“I think so. Just kid stuff.” And that was that. He walked past me and went back inside like I was no one special. Why? I was right on his heels.
“What are you doing, Ashland? Are you really that ticked off?” I snapped my fingers in frustration. Now where had I picked up that habit?
My husband stopped and answered me in a quiet voice. “I don’t think that’s what I am feeling, Carrie Jo.”
“That’s bull. You’re acting like your proposal was some sort of deal-changer. Are we going to break up because you took me by surprise? Way to wind a girl, Ash.” My worst fears were finally being realized. This was a nightmare.
Haunted Gracefield Page 3