The Haunting of Hotel LaBelle

by Sharon Buchbinder

  Wet hair slicked back, Lucius strolled in at that moment smelling like soap. “Thank you. I feel almost human.” He gave her a hug and slowly rocked back and forth.

  Damn. He looked, smelled, and felt like hot sex on a stick.

  Tallulah’s face burned and not from the heat of the cooking range. She hadn’t even turned it on yet. Maybe she didn’t need to. She could probably cook the burgers with the temperature she generated every time she was near Lucius.

  “I can tell you what he was thinking,” Lucius kissed the top of Tallulah’s head, released her, and pulled up a chair. “He gambled on a long shot—the success of this hotel—and he lost. He put the money in to fix it up but didn’t count on the extras, like paying for repairs, cleaning, and keeping the lights on. Instead of selling and cutting his losses, he threw good money after bad.”

  Emma’s face reddened, and she slammed her palm on the kitchen table. “It’s not his to sell.”

  Bert pulled yellowed newspapers and legal documents from his leather case. “Your will gave everything to Mourning Dove and your heirs should you die before she did. So, it really belonged to your daughter, Snow Flower.”

  Lucius nodded. “Such a pretty name. I wish I’d met her.”

  “Beautiful Blackfeather tried to claim the hotel for your daughter when she turned eighteen. The bank claimed you never paid off the mortgage, so they sold the hotel to a pair of brothers.”

  “Why those horse thieving—” Lucius stopped. “I remember those two simpletons. They got drunk, argued over a woman, and shot each other.”

  “After you disappeared and the brothers died, most people around here considered the hotel cursed. The bank couldn’t get anyone else to buy it, so it sat empty all those years.”

  Lucius ran his fingers through his hair. “Now what do we do?”

  “Your heirs are sitting here with you,” Bert said. “Will never had the right to buy the hotel. With the deed you gave to Tallulah, your last will and testament, and the wedding ring inscribed to Mourning Dove from you, we have a clear chain of ownership for Hotel LaBelle.”

  Tallulah’s ears stopped working when she heard wedding ring. “Lucius?” Her heart hammered attempting to beat its way out of her chest.

  He looked at her and smiled. “Yes, darlin’?”

  He skipped over the wedding ring when he told her about the curse. Her voice came to her as if from the bottom of a well. “I thought you said she refused to marry you?”

  “She refused to marry me here in the hotel with a judge.” He leaned back, tipping the chair on two legs. “Said the Crow didn’t need a ceremony. I gave her mother a horse and a rifle. Among her people, that made us married.”

  Mouth dry as cotton batting, Tallulah turned away from the table and wiped a stray tear off her cheek. The woman died over a century ago. Focus on the meals. Not the wedding ring. The burgers sizzled, sending splatters of scalding grease on the range and her wrists. “Shoot!” She dropped the metal spatula into the iron pan with a clank. Arms encircled her waist, and she jumped.

  Warm breath tickled her neck and a frisson of awareness shivered up her spine. “You okay, darlin’?”

  “I’m fine.” She struggled against Lucius’ embrace and hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt. “Just trying to get food on the table without torching the place.”

  “Uh-huh.” He grabbed the pan out of her hand. “Let me do this before you ruin the meat and give yourself more burns.”

  She twisted away from his other hand and busied herself getting everyone glasses of water. It wasn’t fair. She cared for him, and she had thought the feeling was mutual. Yet, she heard the yearning in his voice when he spoke about Mourning Dove. He had unfinished business. Tallulah had no desire to play second fiddle to a dead woman. A living woman could never compete with a sainted ghost, not to mention a child he’d never met. As soon as they finished lunch, she would pack her dog up and leave for the East Coast. She slammed a glass down, and water splashed onto the table.

  Bert shot her a questioning look and brushed water off his lapel.

  “Sorry. My hand slipped.” Appetite gone, Tallulah sat through the meal in silence. When everyone finished eating, she put the dishes in the dishwasher and wiped her hands on a towel. “My work here is done. You guys have a lot to discuss, so I’m going to head out now.”

  Three sets of eyes stared at her, and then they all spoke at once.

  “You can’t go!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What the heck?”

  Emma retrieved the buckskin bag and handed it to Tallulah. “Don’t forget this. It’s yours now.”

  Tallulah looked in the sack. “I really shouldn’t. This belongs to your family.” She removed the medicine stick and placed it on the table. “In fact, Lucius should keep this.”

  He cocked his head, reached over, and grasped the rod—and disappeared.

  ****

  Lucius could see and hear them, but from the commotion Emma, Bert, and Tallulah were making, they couldn’t see him. He dropped the medicine stick on the table, and a collective gasp of relief told him he was back.

  Tallulah’s rounded blue eyes reflected her fear. “Where did you go?”

  “I think I slipped back into limbo.” He placed his hand on the stick, and a surge of power raced up his arm. The world shifted sideways, blurred, grayed, and he found himself back where he never wanted to be again, between the living and dead.

  This time no one spoke.

  Removing his hand from the rod returned him among the living. “Don’t that beat all? That thing still has lots of power left in it.”

  Bert eyed him like a buyer checking out a new horse. He lifted his chin. “Do it again.”

  Another century in limbo was not to his liking, not one bit. “Not sure that’s a good idea. What if I get stuck?”

  “I have a feeling that isn’t going to happen,” Bert said. “Humor me.”

  Lucius picked the rod up and shifted instantly. When he again dropped it on the table, his return to the living was faster, less jarring than the first two times.

  Bert wrapped the stick with a cloth napkin. “Now touch it.”

  Lucius followed Bert’s directive, but this time he remained present, among the living. He removed the napkin and lifted it again. Like a light switch. Pick it up, on, fade into the other realm. Hand off, he reappeared among the living. On. Off. On. Off. As long as he kept coming back, this was more fun than riding a bucking bronco.

  “He’s flicking in and out so fast, I’m getting a headache,” Emma protested.

  “You can stop now,” Bert said. “Thanks for humoring me.”

  “Looks like Beautiful reversed the curse and gave you a gift.” Tallulah mused. “I think she offered it as a penance for the time you lost with…” She couldn’t say the other woman’s name. It caught in her throat and squeezed the air out of her chest.

  Lucius sat back in his chair. “If only there was a way to make a living with this.”

  “Funny you should say that.” Bert pulled out a business card and slid it over to Lucius. “My division could use someone with your talents.”

  “Bert Blackfeather, JD, Director, Anomaly Defense Division, Homeland Security,” Lucius read. “What’s an anomaly and what’s Homeland Security?”

  Without sharing all the horrific details of 9-11, Bert brought Lucius up to speed about the terrorist attacks on the United States and beyond that to what the world had been dealing with in recent years. “My organization deals with unusual weapons and methods of attack. I’m always on the lookout for people with, shall I say, unusual talents. Tallulah has agreed to work with me on an as needed basis. I’m hoping you might consider taking an occasional assignment with me as an independent contractor, should circumstances arise where we need your—skills.”

  “If it means I get to work with Tallulah, count me in.” He tried to catch her gaze, but she looked away. “I’m proud to help my country.”

  “Go
od, then it’s settled.” Bert pulled out some more papers and handed Lucius a pen. “We need to get you an identity. Could you please sign this document here, here, and here, and I’ll get the wheels rolling.”

  “What do I use for my birthday? Folks don’t seem to like it when I tell them the truth.” Some things never change, he thought.

  “Just subtract your age from this year’s date and that’s your new birthday.” Bert pointed to boxes on the sheet of paper. “Write your real birthplace and we’ll make sure your new birth certificate shows a Lucius Stewart was born at home on that day. Your social security card will come to Emma’s address. You’re not really real without a tax identification number.”

  “You can do that?” Tallulah asked.

  “I’m the director of a very special division in a very special agency. You’d be amazed at what we can do.” He collected the signed forms and put them back in his case. “I’ll get these faxed to Washington. The folks in documentation will take care of the rest. And we’ll be sure you have a squeaky clean digital identity on the Internet once we get you cleared of all charges.”

  Emma pointed at her watch. “What’s the game plan, bro?”

  “I need to look at the area Will torched and take photos. What I don’t understand is why the sprinklers didn’t go off. It’s required in all new hotel construction.”

  “I can tell you what happened.” Lucius described how Will had disabled the system by emptying out the water. “He was drunk as a skunk and hell-bent on burning this place down.”

  “We need photos of the basement. Tallulah, would you do that? Use your phone and text me the pictures. Lucius, come upstairs with me.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Emma called after her brother.

  “Help Tallulah,” he yelled back.

  Tallulah found a light switch at the top of the steps and flipped it on. The two women clumped down the stairs into the dank basement. “There’s the sprinkler system.” Water pooled in low-lying spots on the uneven concrete floor. A drain in the center of the room had siphoned most of it away. Emma pointed out the sign, and Tallulah snapped photos of the open spigot along with the pools of water on the floor.

  “All done. Let’s go.” Tallulah turned to go back up the stairs, anxious to escape the hotel and Lucius’ searching gaze. “I need to get on the road.”

  A hand grabbed her elbow. “Not so fast. Last night, you and Lucius were trying to figure out where your relationship was going. Now you can’t wait to shake the dust of Billings off of your feet. What changed?”

  “Mourning Dove.” Just saying the other woman’s name stabbed at her heart. “He still loves her. Can’t you hear it in his voice? It catches each time he says her name. For him, her death is still fresh. He never knew he had a daughter. Now you and your brother call him grandfather. And he’s only, what? Thirty-five? My timing is off by a hundred years.”

  Emma dropped her hand. “You sure about this?”

  “I can’t stay here and watch him yearn for another woman, even if she did die over a century ago. I can’t compete with a ghost.” As painful as it was to leave, it would be a hundred times more agonizing to stay and be forced to watch him long for his dearly departed day after day.

  “Have you told Lucius?”

  “Hard to have an intimate conversation with the two of us having been in jail on and off for the last twenty-four hours.” She sighed. Emma had a point. She wouldn’t like it if he disappeared without an explanation. “Any chance you and Bert could give us some time alone?”

  Emma gave her a thumbs-up. “I have some errands to run in Billings, stuff to pick up for the fair. That’ll take me at least two hours. I’ll tell Bert to make himself scarce. Work for you?”

  “Thanks for taking care of Lucius.” Tallulah realized with a pang she was going to miss this place, these people, and their incredible kindness. Her apartment was cozy but a tad lonely. No big boisterous family gatherings. No bickering siblings. Her closest friend in Trenton was the Chinese food delivery guy. By comparison to the close-knit feelings in Billings, Trenton was a hollow shell, empty and devoid of personal connections.

  “Isn’t that what family’s for? It’s the place where you go, and they can’t throw you out.”

  Tallulah smiled. “That’s what my grandmother always said too.”

  “We wise women know.” Emma pointed up the stairs. “I’ll find Bert, give you some space.”

  Excitement, anxiety, and sadness fought for dominance in her aching chest—and the blues were winning.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After Tallulah waved goodbye to Emma and Bert, she stepped away from the kitchen door and hugged her elbows. Her stomach churned, and she was grateful she hadn’t eaten much for lunch. Franny, on the other hand, had eaten at least a quarter of a pound of meat and now snored in the corner on a bed of dirty linens. “We need to talk.”

  “What’s up, darlin’?” Lucius attempted to pull her into his arms.

  Wriggling like a pug, she escaped his embrace.

  Hurt crossed his handsome face, and his moustache drooped. “Did I do something wrong again?”

  “No, it’s not that.” Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, so she turned away. No need for him to see her weeping. “You—you need to have time to process everything that’s happening to you.”

  “I don’t understand. What’s that got to do with you and me?”

  “You still love her, don’t you?” Better to get it out in the open. Not dance around the other woman in the room. “Mourning Dove. I hear it in your voice every time you say her name.”

  He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. His chin rested on the top of her head. “You’re jealous.”

  “No, absolutely not.” How could she be jealous of a dead woman, for Heaven’s sake? This wasn’t high school. This was adulthood, and while she didn’t feel like being an adult, she had no choice. “You’ve never had the opportunity to mourn her passing. It’s still fresh for you.”

  His hug grew tighter, and his chest heaved against her back. “I had a hundred years, half of them in darkness with nothing but the stars, moon, howling wind, and wild animals to console me. If that’s not enough time, I don’t know what is.”

  She turned in his arms and pulled back to look into his eyes, those beautiful, warm brown eyes. “Grief has its own timetable, Lucius. When my parents died, I was a child, didn’t know what was going on. But deep inside, there was this hole where my parents should have been. Over the years, my grandmother filled that space with her love. My parents are a memory, but every now and again, I see that little girl, the little me, and I cry for her.”

  “No one ever gets over the loss of a parent.” Lucius shook his head. “I miss my mother every day.”

  A sob tore from her throat. “I can’t replace Mourning Dove or your daughter. Your great-great-grandchildren are here for you. They want to help you, take care of you, and get through this strange time of your new life.”

  “I would never think you could replace another person. You’re independent, sassy, strong, smart—all the things I love, wrapped up in a delicious, curvy package of wild blonde hair and big blue eyes.” He put his index finger under her chin and lifted it. “Give me a chance, please?”

  Voice hoarse, Tallulah croaked, “I have feelings for—” and her words were cut off with a searing kiss that curled her toes. Heart thundering, breathless, she could barely think straight, much less speak. Her body was doing all the talking—as was his.

  He slid his hands under her shirt and caressed her breasts. “Time for us to pick up where we left off the other night.”

  She husked, “I need a shower.”

  His voice hummed in her mouth, “Can I join you?”

  Weak-legged, she nodded assent. He walked her backwards to the elevator, showering kisses on her forehead, eyes, nose, ears, and throat. Heat radiated from every pore of her body, and she began to undress in the elevator as he did. By the time they arrived
on the second floor, his hands had caressed her nipples into aching rigidity. She wanted to explore every sensual curve and angle of his well-muscled body. Maybe it was too soon, but she didn’t care. Emotions and hormones cascaded and tumbled with each touch, shoving her rational self out the door. His voice, touch, breath on her neck set her on fire. She yearned to be one with this intense, funny, brave man from another time.

  He carried her to the closest room, pushed the door open with his elbow, and set her on her feet. “I’m not leaving this room until I’ve had my way with you.” Still kissing her and walking backward, he led her into a bathroom with a claw-foot tub and shower and pulled her into the shower. He turned on the water and adjusted the temperature.

  When they were both enclosed inside the shower, Tallulah closed her eyes as Lucius drizzled shampoo onto her hair, the floral bouquet blending with his manly scent in a heady mix. He massaged her scalp with long, slow, firm strokes and she relaxed, practically melting under his gentle touch. His fingers traced soap bubbles down her neck to the base of her throat, and rubbed lazy circles around her nipples.

  She returned his caresses with increasingly firm strokes on his back, then his buttocks, and between his legs, soap bubbles rising up and bursting. He moaned as she fondled him, stilled her moving hand, and pulled her in for a long, hard kiss. Then he turned her around, placed her hands against the wall, and slid deep inside her aching center. His right hand pulled at her wet nipple, while his left fingers probed her hidden folds and found her shuddering bud. He stopped moving.

  “What’s wrong?” She panted and wriggled against him, wanting more.

  “Nothing, darlin’. Just enjoying the moment.” He held onto her until she couldn’t take it any longer.

  “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop!”

  At last, he resumed his long, slow lovemaking; each stroke, each touch, driving her further up the spiral of passion until she climaxed and shuddered to a breathless halt. Weak-kneed, she leaned against the wall and gasped for air.

  “I can’t move,” she said.