Haunting Ellie

by Patti Berg

  They ate in the middle of Jon’s massive down-filled mattress, talking and laughing about nothing important, both of them staying far away from the subject of her brother and his association with Matt and Floyd.

  An hour later, an empty tray sat at the end of Jon’s bed, and Elizabeth sat to one side, wrapped in the same blanket she’d worn the day before.

  She studied Jon’s form as he stretched out on his side with only a sheet draped over his hips, and once again she wanted him. She wondered if that need would ever subside. They hadn’t talked about a lifetime together. They hadn’t talked about marriage or children or even living together. They’d made love, not so plain, not so simple, and they’d done it again and again.

  She leaned over and kissed his nose, stroking away a lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. It seemed the best way to begin a discussion she’d dreaded all morning long, a discussion that had haunted dreams that should have been peaceful after a night of so much love.

  “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Jon asked, and she wondered how he could tell. Did her face give away her secrets, her fears?

  She grabbed a pillow and tucked it close to her stomach. Jump in with both feet, she told herself. Get it out in the open just as fast and as easily as you can. She’d never hesitated telling people things in the past, but this wasn’t your normal, everyday topic of conversation.

  “I’ve seen the ghost,” she finally blurted out. “I’ve talked to him. I know all about him.”

  Jon didn’t move, not a finger, not an eyelash, not a heartbeat.

  “He told me you’ve seen him, too.”

  He rolled onto his back and crossed his hands behind his head, staring straight up at the ceiling.

  “I didn’t believe it at first,” she continued, when Jon said nothing. “I thought it was the house making noises. But it’s not.”

  Jon’s failure to admit he’d talked to Alex, that he’d played games with him when he was a child, made her doubt her sanity. She brushed her fingers through her hair. “You have seen him, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve never seen him.” Jon shook his head. “I’ve heard him. I’ve talked to him. Years ago I thought I was crazy; so did half the people in this town. That’s why I know so much about psychiatrists. The teacher, the principal, my uncle—they all insisted I see one.”

  “No one believed I talked to God, that He’d kept me company when I was trapped beneath my house, but I knew I wasn’t crazy. I know I’m not crazy now and I know you weren’t crazy then.” Elizabeth rolled onto her side. “He didn’t appear to me at first, but he talked to me and I could sense it when he came near. And just a few days ago he let me see him.”

  Jon chuckled as he rolled over to face her. He propped his head on his fist. “I always wondered what he’d look like if he saw fit to let me see him. I imagined he’d be a shadow, or translucent.”

  “He looks like any other flesh-and-blood man. I’ve even seen him cry.”

  “Cry?” Jon frowned. “Why would he cry?”

  “He’s been accused of murder. He misses the woman he loves.” The frown remained on Jon’s face. “You don’t know who the ghost is, do you?”.

  “I don’t have a clue. He never appeared to me; he never told me his name.”

  “It’s Alexander Stewart,” she told him. “He didn’t desert Amanda—he was murdered.”

  “I’m sure I would have heard that story if it were true.”

  “It is true.” Elizabeth jerked up in bed. “Alex didn’t run away on his wedding day, he was hit over the head and buried alive.”

  “He remembers that?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “It’s as vivid to him now as it was a hundred years ago, but he never saw his killer.”

  Jon sat up and took Elizabeth into his arms. “It sounds far-fetched, but …”

  “It wouldn’t if you heard the whole story.”

  Jon kissed the top of her head and pulled her down with him into the comfort of the pillows. “Then you’d better tell me all that you know.”

  She related the entire story, just as Alex had told it, leaving out nothing. She told him how Alex had met Amanda, how he’d loved her, and what it felt like to have clods of cold dirt fall onto your face and be helpless to do anything about it.

  They talked about Jon’s interaction with Alex when he’d been a child. They talked about Alexander’s loneliness, the friends he wanted, the help he needed.

  “You really believe all of this, don’t you?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Every word. And now I have the proof.”

  “What? Phoebe Carruthers’ diary?”

  Elizabeth climbed from the bed and retrieved the journal from her coat pocket. Getting comfortable once again in Jon’s arms, she flipped through the pages and stopped somewhere close to the beginning. “Listen to this.

  “ ‘I’ve at last found a man to love. Herbert must never know, although I don’t know why he should mind, as he has dalliances of his own.’ ” Elizabeth looked up from the book. “Herbert was Phoebe’s husband.”

  “So I gathered,” Jon quipped.

  Elizabeth looked down at the pages again. “ ‘Luke Winchester arrived in town just two days ago and I had the extreme good fortune to accidentally bump into him as I walked out of the mercantile. He helped me with my parcels, and I invited him into the parlor for tea. He’s a gambler and made no attempt to keep that piece of information a secret. Herbert would find that scandalous. Maybe that’s why I found Mr. Winchester so exciting. What a stroke of luck it was for me that Herbert had gone out of town. I expected him back but thought it was time I gambled a bit myself. Life is so very boring with Herbert, and I found nothing at all boring about Mr. Winchester. He was worth the price I would have paid had I lost.’ ”

  “Guess those stories my grandfather told about Phoebe Carruthers and her dalliances were true.” Jon laughed. “Of course, I doubt he knew anything about her fling with his dad.”

  “He knew his father wasn’t exactly a pillar of society, and he knew his mother didn’t love him. I imagine she didn’t have any idea what Luke Winchester was really like when she married him, but she must have figured it out pretty fast, because she didn’t look happy in their honeymoon pictures.”

  “You’ve seen pictures of them together?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “In one of Matt’s photo albums. She was awfully pretty, but you couldn’t miss the sadness in her eyes, especially when she stood next to Luke.”

  “Read some more.” Jon said, pulling her back against his chest. “Let’s see what else Phoebe had to say.”

  Elizabeth flipped through a few more pages and continued to read. “ ‘Tim Drummond died tonight and Luke now owns the saloon. Luke and I toasted his prosperity with a bottle of Drummond’s finest champagne, and then we made love. Herbert has never made me feel like Luke does. I doubt Herbert even knows that a woman can get excited in bed. Luke told me he could treat me special every night if it wasn’t for Herbert. I laughed, of course, and told him that unfortunately, Herbert was in the finest of health. Luke laughed, too. “No one expected Tim Drummond to die, either,” Luke told me “If you want something badly enough, you take it, one way or another.” He made love to me again after that, and when he left, I found a vial of powder he’d left next to my bed. I believe it’s arsenic.’ ”

  Jon laughed and Elizabeth tilted her head around and frowned. “You find this funny?”

  “I knew there were some black sheep in my family, but I figured the worst ones were still alive. Now I’m finding out that my great-grandfather debauched Phoebe Carruthers, killed a man so he could stake claim to the saloon, and it appears he’s going to be partially responsible for Herbert Carruthers’ death. Nice man, huh?”

  “I wish this diary didn’t show your family in such a bad light, but it does. I hate the thought of having to divulge this information to anyone other than you, but I promised Alex I’d help him, and I can’t think of any way other than clearing his name.”
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br />   Jon kissed her, and the feel of his arm around her shoulders brought back the warmth that had left her while she was reading the chilling revelations in Phoebe’s diaries.

  “Read some more, Ellie. Don’t worry about smearing the Winchester name. Matt’s done that already, and being related to him and his dad isn’t something I’ve ever been proud of.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, you’re nothing like Matt. The only trait the two of you share is a name.”

  “Maybe I’ll change it one of these days.” Jon laughed, and Elizabeth lifted the book and again began to read.

  “ ‘Luke said it’s only proper to mourn for a year. Of course, if I’d realized his visitations would become less frequent during my mourning period, I never would have poured that powder into Herbert’s tea. Luke did, however, send me a lovely bottle of champagne wrapped in a plain brown box tied with black ribbon. I hated drinking it alone, but it was the only thing I could do to ease the pain of not having Luke beside me.’ ”

  Elizabeth thumbed through pages that were little more than the ravings of a woman who’d felt she’d been spurned. “ ‘My lawyers tell me Herbert had made some unsound investments,’ ” Elizabeth continued. “ ‘I have nothing more than this house now, and I’ve considered turning it into a boardinghouse or perhaps a hotel. I’ve taken the first step by inviting that nice young man, Alexander Stewart, to board in the attic room until his wedding. The money he gives me each week will barely pay for food, but it’s a beginning. Sheriff Ralston has expressed an interest in calling on me, though, and the husbands of both Mrs. Wyatt and Mrs. Vernon have tilted their hats and smiled quite nicely as I’ve passed them on the street. It was so very easy to keep my encounters with Luke Winchester a secret. I do believe I might be able to do the same with a few other gentlemen in town. I understand a woman can turn a handsome profit, given the right set of circumstances. Perhaps I might make Luke jealous, and perhaps I might enjoy myself in the bargain.’ ”

  “Don’t stop now,” Jon said, when Elizabeth put the book in her lap. “Phoebe’s become rather interesting.”

  “I find her sad and pathetic.”

  “Why? She doesn’t seem much more redeeming than Luke.”

  “She was lonely and gullible. She fell in love...”

  “Did she?” Jon interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “Or did Luke give her a taste of something new, something she wanted more and more of?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s both, although I don’t know what she could possibly have seen in him.”

  “Maybe the same thing women see in Matt.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “What? Charm? Looks?”

  “Maybe Matt’s the reincarnation of our great-grandfather.”

  “That’s not funny, Jon. I don’t care for Matt, but Luke was sick. He killed for the sake of money and property. If he wanted something, he took whatever means necessary to get it.”

  “As I said, Matt’s just like Luke. Of course—” Jon frowned, apparently thinking about the similarities. “I doubt he’d ever resort to murder.”

  “No one believed Luke was capable of murder, either,” Elizabeth said, turning more pages before she continued to read. “ ‘There was a party at the church tonight. Everyone was there, even Luke. He smiled at the congregation, he kissed babies, and he danced with the elderly ladies. He even danced with Amanda Dalton, and I could tell Mr. Stewart was not at all pleased that his intended was in the arms of another man. I wasn’t pleased, either. Luke ignored me the entire evening, walking past me as if I didn’t exist. But he came to my home later that night with two bottles of chilled champagne. I slapped his face for ignoring me, and he slapped me back for having the nerve to want to be seen in public with a man while I was still in mourning. His slaps rarely hurt, and he usually makes up for them in bed. But tonight he drank the champagne straight from the bottle and he talked about Amanda Dalton and how life wasn’t fair. Luke wants to be more than just the owner of a saloon. He wants respect. And he wants to marry the richest woman in town. “But there will always be room for you in my life,” he told me. I drank the rest of that first bottle of champagne and Luke opened the second.’ ”

  Elizabeth skimmed through paragraph after paragraph, then began again. “ ‘Luke comes every night now, long after Mr. Stewart’s in bed. He brings champagne and I fall asleep in his arms. And every morning when I wake, I take his boots downstairs and clean away the dirt as I make his coffee.’ ”

  Elizabeth sat up and Jon massaged her shoulders, somehow sensing the tension building inside her as she skimmed more lines. “ ‘I believe Luke is digging a tunnel. I confronted him with my concerns, but he only laughed and asked how he could possibly do that when I’m asleep in his arms every night—all night. But my head is so dizzy every morning that I feel an illness is coming on, and I believe I sleep so soundly that I would not know if Luke was with me or not.’ ”

  Elizabeth turned another page. “ “The bank was robbed today and Elmer Jones was killed. Alexander Stewart disappeared, along with all his belongings, and Amanda Dalton was left standing at the altar. The only incident that bothers me is the latter, for I fear Luke will leave me. Of course, when he comes the next time with his bottle of champagne, I will tell him my secret. Yesterday I found the tunnel to the bank, and tonight the hole in the basement was filled in. I believe Luke might have killed Mr. Stewart and buried him downstairs. I believe he might have killed the bank clerk, too, after he conspired with him to rob the bank. It is only a hunch, but I have seen them talking many times outside of business hours. I have no proof, of course, but my plan is to tell Luke that I saw him murder Mr. Stewart, and that I’ll promise to keep it all a secret if he agrees to marry me. It’s a gamble, but once again the stakes are worth the risk.’ ”

  Elizabeth skipped over a page of dates, names, and amount received, obviously a record of Phoebe’s conquests, the men she secretly took to her bed and charged for her services. Phoebe’s next words took her by surprise.

  “ ‘Luke’s marrying Amanda today. He threatened to tell the sheriff about Herbert and the arsenic if I say anything about the tunnel or Mr. Stewart. We did reach a compromise, though. I won’t tell a soul, and he won’t tell a soul, as long as he comes to my bed.’ ”

  “Is that it?” Jon asked. “She’s ended the diary right there?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “There might be other diaries somewhere, but that’s all for this one.”

  “We might never know what happened to her. We may never know if Luke stuck to his bargain.”

  “It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Jon asked.

  Elizabeth shook her head and shut the book. She rested against Jon’s chest. “What do you think about Phoebe Carruthers?”

  “She was insane.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Then you don’t believe what she’s written?”

  Jon wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I believe every word. I also think Luke was just as demented as Phoebe.”

  “Now that you know everything, how do you feel about helping Alex?”

  “You mean a ghost who’s sworn vengeance against me and my family?”

  Elizabeth slowly nodded.

  Jon rose from the bed and walked across the room. “I don’t know if there’s anything either one of us can do,” he said. “That diary might prove Luke was a murderer, it might clear Alexander’s name; but no one’s going to run Matt and me out of town because of it. Some people might even believe the diary is nothing more than the lying rant of a madwoman.”

  “We have to do something”

  “We will, I’m just not sure what,” he said, parting the curtains to look out at the town of Sapphire, just as she’d seen Alex do time and time again.

  The afternoon sunlight poured through the window and shone on blond hair Jon had combed away from his face with his fingers. It had fallen into an off-center part and curled slightly behind his ears and over his neck.

  He was deep in thought as he looked out the window,
his slow breathing making a circle of fog appear on the glass. He leaned a shoulder against the wall and continued to look out at the town, just as she’d seen Alex do time and time again.

  And suddenly it all became clear.

  Their movements were the same.

  Their hair.

  Their walk.

  That slightly off-kilter smile, and that lopsided grin.

  Jon might be six-foot-six while Alex couldn’t be much more than five-eleven, but...

  No, she told herself. Her thoughts were crazy, and she laughed.

  Jon turned around and smiled at her with eyes that curled her toes and warmed her heart.

  Sapphire eyes—just like Alexander’s bright blue ones.

  Chapter 17

  A quiver of excitement raced through Elizabeth’s body. She climbed off the bed and ran to Jon, reaching up and cupping his face between her hands. “Smile again.”

  He laughed, but he smiled, too.

  And she knew.

  “You’re not related to Luke Winchester,” she stated.

  “It’s not something I’m proud of, but he was my great-grandfather.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, Jon. You look like Alex. The same hair, the same walk, the same eyes.”

  “You’re seeing something you want to see.”

  “Luke Winchester had black hair. Yours is blond. Alexander’s is blond.”

  “Family traits have a strange way of changing in a hundred years.”

  “What about your grandfather? What did he look like?”

  “Old,” Jon stated flatly.

  “Not always. Surely there must be some pictures around here from when he was young.”

  Jon shoved his fingers through his hair. “I’ve never been much of one to look at old photo albums. There might be one or two downstairs, or—” He frowned. “My grandfather kept a lot of things just as they were when he was young. I seem to remember a picture of him on the dresser in his mother’s room.”