When the Spirit Is Willing

by Margaret Chittenden

  "I was asleep. But then I had a bad dream." Still clutching the doll, Jessica looked up at her mother in a conspiratorial way. "There's a monster hiding in my armoire," she whispered.

  "Good grief!" Laura exclaimed. "When do you suppose he moved in? What kind of monster is he?"

  "What makes you so sure it's a he?" Carter asked.

  Laura wrinkled her nose at him over Jessica's head. "Monsters are always male."

  "Sexist," he accused. "Filling your child's mind with stereotypes."

  She rolled her eyes. "Would you like me to come up and get rid of the monster in your armoire?" she asked Jessica. "We could take a broom up and sweep him right out of the house."

  The little girl shook her head. "There's not really a monster. I just said that. I just wanted to come and see you."

  "You don't need a reason to do that, honey. I'm here for you day and night."

  Jessica snuggled against her mother, obviously comforted. Who wouldn't be with a statement like that? Carter thought. He couldn't remember anyone ever saying anything like that to him.

  He must have sighed unconsciously. Jessica turned her head to look at him. "Do you believe in monsters, Mr. Kincaid?" she asked.

  "No way. All the monsters went out with the Dark Ages." He laughed. "Of course, I never used to believe in ghosts, either."

  It was entirely the wrong thing to say. The little girl's eyes puddled up immediately. "I miss Priscilla," she said.

  The break in her voice caught at Carter's heart. "I do, too," he said. "We all do. But think how glad we'll be to see her when she's through resting."

  Jessica slipped from Laura's lap and came around the coffee table to stand by him, the doll stuck awkwardly under one arm. "Do you think she's still here?" she asked, her expression earnest.

  "Sure she is. She's probably listening to us right now."

  Jessica glanced around the den and shook her head. "I can always tell when she's in a room. I haven't been able to find her anywhere." Her mouth trembled and she put one hand on his knee. "I'm scared she's not ever coming back. My daddy didn't come back after he had his accident with a tree."

  He was out of his depth here. "Life's awful tough sometimes," he said. It was a totally inadequate thing to say, but all he was capable of.

  She nodded solemnly, her lash-fringed eyes dominating her wistful little face. "Mom says Daddy will always live on as a part of me. But Priscilla isn't a part of me. Do you think she's lonely? She told me she was lonely before we came."

  Carter was moved by the feel of that small hand touching his knee. He wanted to gather her up in his arms and hug her, but knew their relationship hadn't progressed that far. At least he could try to reassure her. He shook his head. "I hate to argue with you, Jess, but I think you're wrong about her not coming back."

  He picked up the drawing of Port Dudley that Laura had placed on the coffee table and showed it to Jessica. "Can you find The Willows?" he asked her.

  She shot him a questioning glance and leaned in against his knee as she gazed at the drawing, her face crinkled up in a frown. "There it is," she crowed after a minute or so. "There's the tower, see. Nobody else has a tower just like ours."

  "Very good," Carter said. He pointed at the date. "Can you read this number?"

  "One-eight-eight-eight. That's an easy one."

  "Right. Eighteen eighty-eight. That's the year this house was built. And the year Priscilla moved in. Now, what is nine take away eight?"

  Her reply was prompt. "One."

  "So nine hundred take away eight hundred is one hundred. Which means Priscilla has stayed in this house more than a hundred years. Do you really think she'd go away after all that time?"

  She considered that, tugging on her right earlobe.

  Watching Carter with her daughter, Laura was enchanted. And impressed. In the past few days Carter had managed to woo Jessica away from her former hostility. Now he was helping her understand a difficult concept without talking down to her. And comforting her at the same time. Jessica's face was smoothing out. The beginning of a smile was curving her mouth.

  "A hundred years is a really really long time, huh?" she said.

  Carter counted it out on his fingers, as Jessica mouthed the numbers along with him, leaning more heavily against his knee.

  "Then there's this," Carter said when they were done. "Priscilla was here in this house when I was a little boy. And that was also a long time ago, right? I remember that she used to go away from time to time to rest then. I guess it's something ghosts have to do."

  "She'll come back," Jessica said, nodding emphatically.

  "Sure she will," Carter replied. Leaning his head back, he raised his voice slightly. "Priscilla, can you hear me? Jessica misses you and Laura misses you and I miss you. We've got some stuff to show you. We're all very sorry if we offended you and will you please come back soon?"

  "Please, please, please," Jessica added with lots of emphasis.

  Carter looked down at her, his dark-brown eyes full of warmth and affection. Then his gaze caught Laura's, and held.

  He really was a nice man, Laura thought. A lovable man.

  She frowned, staring at him, then realized Carter was looking at her questioningly, one eyebrow quirked. "So how about going back to bed?" she suggested hastily to Jessica. "Would you like me to tuck you in now?"

  Above Jessica's head, Carter gave her such a wickedly hopeful smile she had to bite down hard on her lower lip to keep from laughing. He could always make her laugh, this man. Just like Brady, a small voice muttered in the back of her mind.

  Jessica looked shyly at Carter. "Can Mr. Kincaid come, too?"

  Carter's pleasure lit up his whole face. "Sure," Laura said.

  There were certain rituals to this tucking-in process, Carter discovered, watching from his old bedroom door-way. First Jessica's pillow had to be fluffed and her nightie pulled smooth so it didn't make any lumps underneath her. Then the blankets had to be brought up to her chin and swaddled around her. Next the doll was tucked in on one side, an ancient stuffed white rabbit on the other.

  Once again, Laura's eyes were luminous with love as she performed these comforting ceremonies. Leaning down, she kissed her daughter gently on the cheek. "Sleep well," she murmured as she switched the bedside lamp off and a night-light on.

  "Mr. Kincaid?" The small voice came out of the mound of blankets while Laura was picking her way across racetracks.

  Carter eased himself away from the doorjamb. "At your service, ma'am," he said with a slight bow.

  Jessica giggled. "I'm not a ma'am. I'm Jessica." A moment's silence followed, then she said hesitantly, "I was just wondering. May I call you 'Uncle Carter'?"

  He stood very still in the doorway, one hand clutching the jamb. He had to swallow twice before he could reply. Finally he managed to say, "I would like that very much, Jess."

  "Okay," she said.

  "You were wonderful," Laura said when they reached the foyer.

  "You're finally learning that, are you?" he said with a grin.

  She laughed.

  "Where did you go earlier?" he asked. "I had the feeling you were doing some serious hard-core thinking."

  "I was." Her forehead wrinkled. "Carter, would you understand if I asked you to leave now?"

  He groaned. "That would depend on the reason."

  "I'm not sure I can explain," she said slowly. "I need to do some thinking. Something I said or Jessica said made me start wondering…" She shook her head. "It has to do with the house. I need to run it around in my head for a while."

  He raised his hands in silent surrender, but couldn't resist asking, "Don't you remember when you were in school and boys came on to you? They must have told you it's very unhealthy for a man to have to put his basic biological drives on hold. There's a danger of strangulation."

  "Yours or mine?" she asked with a grin. Then she sighed. "In any case, it's not really a good idea for us to—well, to…"

  "Grapple?" he sugge
sted.

  He really loved it when she laughed. "You know what I mean," she said. "It just doesn't seem right, with Jessica in the house."

  "What do married people do with their children?" he asked.

  There was a silence. Carter was stunned to realize he'd actually said the m word without stammering. Laura was obviously stunned by the sheer logic of his question.

  Or maybe not. "It's not the same," she said.

  He'd lost count of the times he'd heard women say that. Supposedly it was an acceptable reason for any action or— as in this case, lack of action.

  He studied her anxious face. What exactly was happening in that sharp mind of hers? He had an idea there was more going on than worry about Jessica breaking in on them.

  Abruptly his mind produced a picture of that little trusting girl in her blue flowered nightgown. He remembered the warm weight of her against his knee. Dammit, he could understand Laura's reluctance. Obviously, what was needed here was a change of venue.

  "Okay," he said. "But I think I deserve a reward for my forbearance and fortitude."

  "What kind of reward did you have in mind?" she asked, gray eyes glinting.

  He grinned at her. "Tomorrow, six p.m. to midnight. All mine. You. Me. Nobody else."

  "Doing what?"

  "What would you like to do?" he asked with commendable restraint.

  She thought for a minute. "I haven't gone dancing for over two years," she said, a hint of mischief showing in her eyes.

  "Dancing." He sighed. "Okay, dancing it is. I'll work out the rest of the agenda myself."

  She narrowed her eyes at him, then smiled. "O-kay," she said, mimicking Jessica. "I'll have to get a baby-sitter," she added.

  He wasn't even going to suggest Sly. Sly had to own up to whatever was going on in his life before he'd be trusted again with Jessica. "Mrs. Wilmer?" he asked.

  She nodded with apparent reluctance. "I suppose. Jessica won't be happy, though. Do you think Tiffany would be available?"

  He was astonished. "I thought she wasn't a good role model?"

  She grimaced. "I do have my priggish moments, don't I?" She smiled up at him. "Tiffany and I reached an understanding at the party. I learned that she's a very smart young woman, just as you told me. And she told me she loves kids. I've an idea Jessica would enjoy her. Could you ask her?"

  They would have six hours together, he thought as he nodded. He could surely think up some fairly pleasing ways to spend six hours with this woman. In private. Definitely in private.

  Laura glanced at the clock on the den mantelpiece and put down her calculator. It was almost midnight. Four hours since Carter had left and she hadn't moved from the sofa. She should feel tired, but she didn't—she felt excited, exhilarated.

  Papers were scattered all over the coffee table—bank statements, investment reports, sketches, notes on all the ideas that had come tumbling into her mind as soon as she'd opened it up to new possibilities.

  At first she had spent some time analyzing the feeling that had swamped her when she'd contemplated actually leaving this house, leaving Priscilla, leaving Port Dudley. For the first time in her life, she had bonded with a place. She didn't want to leave.

  It had been a very short step from that realization to making the decision that she wasn't going to leave.

  In her usual practical way, she had spent the past few hours trying to work out how on earth she could carry out this decision. She didn't have all the problems ironed out yet, but she thought she could swing it.

  Sitting up straight, she looked around the room that she had made comfortable with her own hands, her own ideas. Yes, of course she could swing it.

  Maybe.

  Sighing, she picked up the papers and the calculator and started punching numbers again.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  On Thursday morning, Laura awoke in her temporary bedroom with the vague feeling that someone was watching her. Sleepily untangling her legs from the blankets covering her, she reasoned that Jessica had probably awakened early and come in to join her. She'd been doing that lately, since Priscilla…

  Priscilla!

  Flinging back the blanket, she sat up and looked around wildly. Priscilla was sitting on the straight chair next to the bed. She looked much as usual in her jade green dress and feathered hat, though perhaps there was a little more color in her face. She looked . ..rested, Laura realized. Her mischievous smile was in place, her green eyes sparkling.

  Still slightly groggy from staying up late the night before, Laura blinked several times to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

  "Would you like me to pinch you?" Priscilla asked.

  Laura laughed. "Good grief, Priscilla, you've had us all worried sick. Jessica was afraid you'd gone away forever."

  Priscilla shook her head, her ostrich feathers quivering. "I can't go away forever. I thought you understood that." Her face became stern. "I'm not like you. I can't just walk away from this house as though it had no meaning for me."

  Laura recognized a potential guilt trip when she saw it— she'd had enough experience with her mother. "This house means a lot to me," she said defensively. "In fact…" She hesitated. There would be time enough to tell Priscilla her plan when she was sure she could manage it successfully.

  Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she gazed at Priscilla affectionately. Warmth curled around her heart. "I'm delighted to see you," she said sincerely. "Jessica will be thrilled. She's been moping ever since you left."

  Priscilla ducked her head. "It's nice to know I'm welcome."

  "Welcome!" Laura reached over to clasp the other woman's hand warmly for a moment. It didn't feel at all strange to do that anymore. "This house wasn't the same without you," she said, then looked at Priscilla with unabashed curiosity. "Where were you?"

  Priscilla frowned. "I'm not really sure where I go at such times. Inside myself, I think. It's a sort of…state of suspension." She giggled. "An army man who lived here once used to talk about R and R. Rest and relaxation. That seems to be what I require from time to time, especially when I'm distressed."

  "We did offend you, then, Carter and I?"

  "I wasn't offended, merely reminded of things that are better forgotten." Before Laura could question that statement, Priscilla smiled slyly. "I liked the phrase you used— Carter and I. Carter and Laura. It has a ring to it, wouldn't you say?"

  Laura sighed. "Give it up, Priscilla. I don't know how I feel about Carter. That's the truth. I stayed up late last night, trying to organize something. I should probably have spent some time analyzing my feelings for Carter, but I had so much—"

  "Bosh!" Priscilla said. "Women always did spend too much time analyzing their feelings, when they should be acting on them." She gave Laura a sly look. "Your face goes soft when you speak his name, did you know that? You love him, don't you?"

  "I think he's lovable—you should have seen him when he was comforting Jessica while you were… away. But thinking he's lovable is not the same as loving him. I'm certainly not going to let him take over my house with me in it. You do realize that's what he had in mind? The nerve of him. He thought he'd have an unlimited supply of… well, someone to make love to whenever he felt like it—without any responsibility or commitment."

  The ostrich feathers were quivering with obvious impatience. "Never mind all that. Men always have to try to get what they want without giving up their freedom. When they can't get away with it, they start compromising. The important thing is—does Carter make your heart jump up and down in your chest?"

  Laura laughed. "Well, yes, but that's hardly—"

  "Do his manners please you?"

  "His manners? I guess so."

  "Is he not kind, compassionate, companionable, honest and honorable, hardworking, intelligent?"

  "All of the above," Laura admitted.

  "Does he not have a pleasing figure?"

  Laura's memory flashed an image of Carter's lean hard body. "I suppose you could put it that way."
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  "Is he not a serious-minded man?"

  "Carter?"

  "Did he not put together that entire historical museum?"

  "Well, yes, but…"

  "Does such an undertaking not require a serious turn of mind?"

  Laura thought of Carter standing on the Parkers' patio, figurative hat in hand, solemnly explaining his mission. "I guess it does at that," she admitted slowly, feeling mildly stunned by the realization.

  "Aha!" Priscilla exclaimed triumphantly. "Now, hear me well, Laura, and answer me with truth. Is there not passion between you when you kiss? Do you not desire him with great enthusiasm? Feel excited in his presence, think of him in his absence? Does your blood not heat when he—"

  "Okay, Priscilla," Laura interrupted, flushing. "You've made your point. But that's not love—it's sexual attraction."

  Priscilla arched her eyebrows, and stared at Laura for several seconds. Then she chuckled. "Perhaps you're right. Unfortunately, nobody told me that before I made all my mistakes. My goodness, all those times I was sure I was in love." She cocked her head. "How would you define love, then?"

  "I'm damned if I know," Laura said.

  Mischief flashed across Priscilla's face, making her eyes green as a country meadow. "Answer me this, then. Could you bear it if you never saw Carter again?"

  "Oh, Priscilla, that's—" She broke off. It was as if an abyss had opened up in front of her at the thought. She stood on its edge, a cold wind howling around her, nothing in front of her but a bottomless pit. She felt her eyes widen.

  Love?

  Was that what the odd emotion was that she'd been feeling lately? Could she really have fallen in love with Carter Kincaid?