Summer Street Secrets (The Hills of Burlington Book 3)

by Jacie Middlemann

"I probably wouldn't have phrased it that way if not for this conversation. But," he took her hand and held it lightly but with a firmness that meant he wanted the connection and wasn't going to let it go easily. "Now that we have had this conversation and looking back on what I would have otherwise considered a strong intuitive nature, I see that instead she senses things." He studied Carrie's features, saw the discomfort she did well to hide but he could see it all the same. She'd probably hate just how much he could see. "Does she know that she senses things, I mean can she control it or is it more of a hit and miss thing?"

  Carrie sighed. It's not like he was asking her to jump through a hoop. And if she hadn't wanted to answer questions she should have kept her mouth shut. But then, where would this relationship of theirs go? Not far. "She probably can tell when she's picking up something that has happened or might...happen." She glanced at him, perturbed without any reason for being so and all the more so because she was. "It's not like she can read minds or anything."

  He filed that away for another time. "What about you?"

  "I can't read minds either!"

  "No, honey. Not that. If that were the case we wouldn't have to have this conversation would we? You'd already know what to say to answer all my questions."

  "Smart ass," she said lightly without any real heat even as she held close the endearment he'd never before said. Nick had, all the time. And it had never meant a thing to him.

  "I can be," he admitted thoughtfully. "But, back to where we seem to keep circling around, can you sense things like Mary does?" He tilted his head in a considering way. "Can Casey? Bet that's why she's so savvy about business. She knows marketing like she was born for it," he said and continued to voice his thoughts out loud. "And Dave and Jake, what about them?" He sensed more than saw her head turn towards him. When he felt her lean into him, probably worn out by all of it he continued. If she wanted him to stop she was the last person he knew who would have a problem letting him know. "I wonder what time of day Mallie and Beth were born?" He continued out loud, not realizing that her thoughts and questions began to mirror his own.

  "Let's go tell my mother." She rose from the swing, but was held in place by the hold on her hand. She stared down at him, knew what he was waiting for though he said nothing. "Yes. I can sense things. And it's not always pleasant."

  

  CHAPTER TEN

  Court looked out his kitchen window into the night. The lights in the Marshall Street house glowed bright in the darkness. Carrie was likely even at that moment talking to Addie about her earlier conversation with Mary and Casey. He could almost see the kid now. Every day she came closer and closer to acting like the teenager someone her age should instead of being held down by the despicable act that had changed her life and her outlook. She would never be the same. But with Carrie's help and determination along with everyone else's she would be better.

  They had indeed gone together to tell Charlie though Carrie had done most the telling. And Charlie had as he had expected been thrilled by all of it. There had been a bit of remorse over Carrie's request to keep it quiet except for family but that hadn't lasted long. He could almost see her mind working even before she began to sketch absently on the paper she always had close by. Odds were this would start a whole new series of paintings. Casey would be thrilled.

  And he had been right. Even before they'd been shooed out the door she had her computer booted up and was heavy into researching the folklore, anything surrounding the stories...myths...customs...whatever...anything and everything having to do with the belief that those born in the twilight hours, the hours of prayer, were born with more than those who weren't.

  He was tempted to do some research himself. And would if it weren't for those few words she'd spoken before they'd walked over to the house and seen Charlie. The moment she spoke he knew the discussion was over. The look on her face told him far more than the words. She may have been born with a power others didn't have, couldn't understand. But there had been a cost as well. It was that he wanted to understand. That which kept him standing in the darkness wondering. What kept him from booting up his own computer because the answers he wanted wouldn't come from surfing the net. When the lights came on next door he sighed deeply and turned towards his front door, then through it, and took the steps leading down off of his porch.

  

  "Court," Mary said as she stood back so he could walk past her. "I just made a small pot of coffee. Would you like some?"

  "You and your coffee," he muttered under his breath to no one in particular. "How do you sleep at night?"

  "Quite well, actually," she answered with a small smile.

  "Did you know I was coming over?" he asked as he poured himself a cup of the freshly brewed stuff. This wasn't the first impromptu late night discussion they'd had since she moved in to the house next to his.

  "No," she answered with laughter in her voice she didn't bother to disguise. "Did you?"

  "Probably," he admitted as he sat down at the table in the center of the kitchen. He waited for her to sit down as well. "Carrie said something today after she told me about your research and all that you'd found out." He looked out the back kitchen window, unconsciously looking towards where the woman he was thinking of lived for the moment. "She would have answered what I'm going to ask you but in all honesty I'm not certain I was ready to hear the answer. At least not then." He paused, and admitted the rest. "And not from her."

  Mary studied the man across from her. It was so very much like him to admit what he had. "Go on."

  "She said she sensed things," he sighed deeply. "I pushed her for that. But then she also said that..."

  Mary waited, understood that there was a part of him even now that didn't want to break what he saw as a confidence. She understood and appreciated that and because of it spoke the words for him. "That it wasn't always a good thing...or something to that effect." She understood too the slanted look he now gave her and what it asked. "Most the time it doesn't take more than intuition and knowing someone pretty well to know what they're thinking but also in part because it's the same for me," she laughed softly. "But I do sense you can't decide whether this is cool or creepy."

  "Yeah." Was about all he could say. And wondered now if this is what Carrie had feared. His reaction...not hers.

  Mary sighed, reached out to cover his tense hand with hers. He wasn't just a friend and a distant cousin, he was also a man who cared deeply for her cousin. "I think you begin to see on your own what she meant, don't you?"

  "A bit." And he began to feel grateful this conversation was with Mary instead of Carrie. "When it sinks in it's just a little unsettling."

  "For everyone to some extent. It's not anything any of us have really talked about. Sometimes joked about, teased about when someone knew where something was that someone else had lost. But it was a game, nothing we delved into or questioned." Her mind wandered a bit, a long ago memory suddenly took hold as it had never before. She'd thought of it before but only the way one did in remembering normal things that happened at odd times.

  "What?" Court saw the flicker of pain that slid away as quickly as it came. "What is it?" he asked more urgently.

  "I was just remembering when my grandmother died. She'd had some health problems but at that time things were okay. At least as far as we all knew." She glanced over to the kitchen counter that looked today much as it had when her grandmother lived here and the kitchen was never without the homey smells of homemade meals and baking. "She was here alone.” She sighed at the memory. “She died suddenly. Friends from church found her when they came to check on her because she hadn't come to the morning service." She took a sip of the coffee, in part to wet her throat that had gone dry and in part to give herself a minute to gather her thoughts before she continued. Some pains could recede into the background but never truly went away. "I remember even now, very clearly, walking in half expecting to see her even though I'd been told. I knew I wouldn't. But it didn't s
eem real." She looked at him, the pain of all those years past vivid in her eyes. "There was a chocolate cake with caramel icing on the counter in the covered pan she always used when she made it. I remember looking around thinking it was all a bad joke. They must be wrong. How could our favorite cake be sitting there if Nanno wasn't there too?" Mary closed her eyes. The scene still crystal clear in her memory. "But she wasn't. Wouldn't ever be again. My mother didn't want me to go to the viewing but my father insisted. I was in what today's vernacular might call denial. He felt I needed to see to accept. He was probably right." She sighed at the memory. "I didn't handle that well either. But the truth of it was inescapable at that point." She looked up at him. "But I always remembered that cake. I ate a piece. I thought I was going to be sick but I ate it because it was like she'd made it for us and how could we not. In my very young mind I suppose it was my way of honoring her. Remembering her." She rose to pour another cup of coffee, knew this night would be different than the others. Sleep wouldn't come easy. But not because of the caffeine surging through her system. "Now, knowing all we know, I wonder if when we find her birth certificate we'll see the same as for the rest of us." She paused because the thought was so painful.

  Sensing where she was going and understanding the full force of how it must be hitting her Court spoke what he knew was difficult for her to think let alone say out loud. "You wonder if she knew. She didn't go to church to stay and bake a cake for all those she loved who would come because she was gone."

  Anguish filling her eyes, sorrow lacing her voice, Mary fought and loss the battle against the tears that spilled over from eyes drenched from anguish. "Yes." She breathed deeply. And felt the whisper soft wind against her cheek, the sweet floral scent she forever associated with her grandmother floated in the air around her, cloaking her with warmth and a sweet comfort she never would have expected in these heartrending moments of understanding. "Yes," she whispered softly in acknowledgment and acceptance.

  "Mary?" Court said quietly, more so than he thought he had in him. He understood something had gone on. Seen it all play out over her face but didn't have a clue what.

  "It's okay." She looked at him, saw the concern. The questions. "I'm okay...now." And she was. "Sometimes I can feel things, emotions..." she floundered searching for how to explain, how much to explain.

  "Spirits?"

  "Yes. Sometimes," she breathed out softly. Watching him for scorn. Saw none. "Sometimes it's good, comforting even." She looked at him seriously, knew he wanted, needed to understand. "Sometimes....good or bad...it leaves you raw."

  "Carrie?"

  "I don't know for certain." Mary thought back to their conversation that morning. The little Carrie had said. More of what she hadn't said. "Probably," she conceded.

  "And that's what she meant."

  "Probably," Mary repeated. She watched his gaze trail to the back window. "Court..." She knew without asking where he was going when he suddenly stood.

  "I need to go." He wasn't sure what was driving him but something was. He'd been careful with Carrie. Maybe too careful. Sometimes caution could hurt. He looked at his newfound cousin. "Thank you," he said with more sincerity than he knew could be put into the two words but it was all he had at the moment.

  With a sense of certainty she wasn't sure where it came from, Mary opened the cupboard door behind her and reached in. "Here," she reached her hand out to him palm up, a key in the middle of it.

  Court looked at what was being offered, understood it was more than entrance to the house. He gently took the key from her in silence thanking her with his eyes, and let himself out. He wasn't sure what drove him but felt more certain than he had in a long time he was going in the right direction.

  

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Somewhere along the short walk to the Marshall Street house Court decided against using the key held securely in his palm unless he had no other choice. Even as he climbed the few steps up to the front porch he wondered if Carrie would let him beyond the front door. She was dealing with a lot, far more than he'd realized. Before he raised his hand to knock the door swung open. Addie stood on the other side her expression a mix of concern and relief.

  "Are you here to see Aunt Carrie?"

  "Yeah. Is she around?" He hadn't even considered she might not be here.

  "She's upstairs." Addie struggled with equal pulls of loyalty and worry. Worry won out. "She's been real quiet and she didn't eat much at dinner." She stood back, swinging the door farther open to allow him entrance. "I was going to hang with Aunt Charlie and Mallie but I'm not certain if I should leave her."

  Court stepped into the room and glanced up the stairway even as he listened to the young woman in front of him. "Why don't you go on over," he suggested quietly as he slipped the key he held in his hand into his pocket. He'd return it to Mary the first chance he got. "I'm going to go up and talk with her." He turned back to Adie, wondering how much she knew. "Do you know what's bothering her?"

  "I think she's pretty freaked by what they talked about this morning before we got there, her and Casey and Mary," she elaborated. At his nod she went on, figuring he knew it all anyway. "Aunt Carrie is really good at dealing with stuff but sometimes it takes her a little time especially something like this." She jammed her hands into her jean pockets. "I think it's cool but..."

  Court studied her expression and understood exactly what she was thinking even without the extras the woman upstairs possessed. "But you understand what she might be going through because of what you've dealt with."

  "Yeah. Sort of." Addie scuffed her feet nervously. "But I wasn't certain what to say to her so I didn't say anything."

  Out of the mouths of babes he thought. She didn't say anything for the same reasons he had made light of it. "Why don't you head on over to Charlie's. I'm not certain what to say either but I'm going to give it a shot." He watched her dash around the side of the house then closed the door quietly before he turned to study the stairway. He knew what he wanted to say. He just wasn't sure what he should.

  

  Carrie stood at her window that overlooked the vast neighborhood beyond Marshall Street. She wondered idly how often her mother had done the same. Her Aunt Leslie. Aunt Miri. They all had been such a huge influence on the person she was. Did they know, she wondered, that in some way, they were different? Would it have mattered to them or would they have shrugged it off and forged forward as she had seen them do so often. Her mother had been thrilled with the whole twilight deal, everyone being born in the same spate of time. But she hadn't been too terribly surprised. So why was she so hung up on it? Because you have a tendency to be a control freak she answered herself bitterly.

  "Carrie."

  She turned sharply toward the sound of her name at the doorway to her room. She knew the voice but still couldn't believe he was standing there. The absolute last person she expected to see tonight.

  "Addie was leaving as I came in...she wanted me to let you know she was heading over to your Mom's," he answered her silent question. "I may have stepped over the line by telling her it was okay. She didn't want to leave you alone," he explained.

  "Oh." She hadn't realized her mood had been that obvious. "Was she okay?"

  "Worried about you."

  "She doesn't need to be. I don't want her to worry."

  "She's not alone."

  "Court..."

  "There were things I should have said earlier today that I didn't." He paused, gave her a chance to ask him to leave. Thanked the powers that be when she didn't. "I should have said that while I think it's cool, like Addie does, I have no way of comprehending what it would be like to be in the midst of it." He moved away from the doorway into the room. "I should have told you that I'm here if you need to talk. If you need someone to vent to I want it to be me. If you need a shoulder to cry on...or just to lean on...I want it to be mine. I guess more than anything I wanted you to understand that no matter what you're feeling, whenever you feel
it, I'm here for you." He shrugged, lifted his hands palms up away from his sides in a gesture that was pure frustrated male. "I don't always know how to handle things and sometimes when I try to be more assured than I am I can be stupid."

  "I make you stupid?" Carrie teased lightly, wanting to ease the mood in the small room.

  "I make myself stupid," Court corrected. "You make me wish I wasn't."

  Carrie stood glued to where she was, then suddenly wasn't. Moments later she felt his arms wrapped around her holding her in a tight and secure embrace. This, she thought to herself, was what she needed. What had kept her mother and aunts secure in who they were. Knowing they had that unrelenting, unconditional support no matter what. "I don't care if you make yourself stupid," she whispered emotionally. "As long as you're stupid only with me."

  "That's not going to be a problem," he said as he buried his face in her shoulder unspeakably grateful for the woman he held in his arms. Relieved that unseen door only cracked open until now had swung wide open. They would continue walking through it, moving beyond it...together.

  

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Wes glanced over at Beth as she moved around the clinic helping out with some of the more routine tasks that needed doing as she had over the last week. They hadn't spoken of it explicitly but it was agreed that he needed some help and she was willing to volunteer her time to do so. In part it had resulted from his insistence that he not be paid for her dog's emergency treatment. It still grated on him that he'd been unable to save the leg. But already Hope, Beth's name for the young dog, was moving around, slowly, but moving around cautiously on her three remaining legs. He couldn't have been more pleased and knew Beth too looked on it as a positive sign. Things had been touch and go in the days right after the surgery. Times when he wasn't at all certain the infection would be battled back in time to allow the young pup the time she needed to heal. Then suddenly in the middle of the night, a night he and Beth had spent talking about everything under the sun, the dog laying on the table between them had let out a barely audible whine. From that point on she’d progressed steadily thanks in large part to Beth's constant and generously given loving attention.