Chelsea Lane (Haunted Hearts Series Book 5)
Page 28
She smoothed the pleats on the back of her dress—the only nice dress she owned—as she absorbed the former grandeur of the house. Could this place once again be livable, let alone a tourist showcase? Les had big dreams and she wondered if they were just that…dreams. Unreachable dreams, soon to be shattered. She knew all about destroyed dreams.
“Welcome home, dear.” His voice startled her. He smiled and waved his hand in a wide motion in front of him, but his tone seemed empty of sunshine.
He had stepped back from her, and she regretted the loss of his close proximity. “Are you glad to be here, Les?”
His smile disappeared. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? This is a tremendous opportunity. You know I couldn’t pass this up.” There was more than determination in his tone. The bright white heat of urgency sparked behind his words. “With the right backing, we can restore this old place to its former glory.”
She turned on her heel, surveying the double white doors to the left. “What’s in there?”
“The parlor.” After a few steps, he flung the doors open. He disappeared inside the room. His voice echoed out the door toward her. “Can you imagine a house filled with visitors? People are starting to travel more. Travelers eat up stuff like this.”
She lifted one foot, but the heel of her pumps caught in a loose floorboard. After she yanked it free, she followed him and peeked inside the door he had rushed to enter. To her surprise, the room was furnished. He busied himself dragging dingy white cloths from furniture. Dust flew about the room, trailing through beams of dim light floating through missing gaps in the shutters where slats used to be. A random windowpane was missing from several of the windows. No drapes blocked the light or afforded them privacy. The dark green shutters on the outside of the house served the purpose.
Her throat clogged. She coughed and placed a hand over her mouth. Les didn’t seem to notice.
“Everything’s here.” His face radiated delight.
She swallowed hard to remove the dust from her mouth. “Did you know?”
He turned toward her, his face suddenly devoid of his former pleasure. “Know what?”
“That the place was furnished.”
“Of course not.” His anger only flickered in his dark eyes for a split second before he masked it.
She didn’t understand. Why did that make him angry?
“What’s that sweet smell?” It wasn’t really sweet, but she didn’t know how else to describe it.
He lifted his head and sniffed. “Gardenias.” He smiled and held his hand out to her. “Let’s finish our tour. It’s getting late. We need to find a bedroom.”
She forced a smile. Of course. The bedroom. She could see it in his eyes. He would want her to perform her wifely duty tonight. She would lie still and let him do what he wanted. After all, she was in no position to complain. Les had saved her from her former life.
***
As soon as she heard Les’s breathing slow into the rhythm of deep sleep, she removed his hand from across her waist and edged off the bed. The only working toilet was across the hall. She moved as silently as possible, fearful her footfalls would land on a loose floorboard. She made it all the way to the door before a creak split the quiet night.
Les mumbled something and rolled over. She stood frozen for a half minute until she was sure he was once again sound asleep. The tension in her shoulders eased.
She slipped out into the wide upper hall and across to the bathroom. Moonlight slithered through an uncovered window, sending rays of soft light across the floor and up the far wall, making her cotton nightgown glow bright white. With her heart in her throat, she turned the knob, cracked open the bathroom door on squeaky hinges, and wiggled inside. Before she could take another breath, she had dropped to her knees and was retching into the stained toilet bowl. Her whole body trembled as she leaned on the porcelain that wasn’t quite bolted tight enough to the rotting floorboards.
When she flushed, the foul remains of her supper didn’t swirl all the way down. She didn’t want to flush again, but she had no choice. If she didn’t, Les would know about her weak stomach. How could she tell her husband that intimate relations with him made her vomit?
She waited until the tank refilled and flushed again. The pipes in the old house groaned enough to wake the dead. She rose on shaky legs and turned the tap. A sludge of brown liquid gurgled from the corroded faucet. She used some of the nasty mess to wipe the evidence of her shame from her mouth, careful not to slosh any on her clean gown. How could she get the sick taste out of her mouth? She didn’t dare drink any of the putrid water spurting into the sink.
She spit into the toilet bowl until her mouth went dry. Her eyes watered from the physical strain of throwing up and the fear of being caught. When she lifted her head to the mirror over the sink to determine if she still looked presentable, she shrieked and then slapped a hand over her mouth.
The face reflected back at her was covered in blood. She pivoted to look behind her, but there was nothing but a blank wall. When she turned to face the mirror again, her face was clean. There was no mistake. She’d seen someone else’s reflection. Who had she seen in the mirror? Why was the woman crying? Why was there a look of abject terror on her face? And why was she covered in blood?
She glanced at the closed bathroom door. Had Les heard her?
“Celia? Where are you?” Rage electrified his summons.
She froze in place, her heart pumping her blood through her veins at an incredibly dangerous rate. The door flew open. Les stood in the doorway. His face blotched purple and red with fury.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and yanked her from the bathroom. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
“I heard you scream.”
She tried to loosen his grip on her arm. A lie sprang from her lips. “A bug. I saw a bug. It scared me.” She tried a tentative smile. “I’m sorry I woke you. I just needed to go the bathroom.”
His grip relaxed but not enough for her to pull free of him. “A bug? You’re scared of a little bug?” He smiled, his mouth widening into a sneer. “Come back to bed, darlin’.”
She reluctantly obeyed him. Before he shut the bedroom door behind them, she dared to steal one more glimpse of the bathroom across the hall. The woman she had seen in the mirror was wearing the exact same nightgown she wore, a nightgown Les had dug out of an old trunk for her. She had brought very little with her the day she married Les. He had rummaged around the old house until he had found something suitable—in his opinion—for her to wear to bed.
What had she really seen in the bathroom mirror? Did she see someone else’s reflection… or a vision of her future? Or was this just her tired mind playing tricks on her? She was about to shrug the odd thoughts off when the bathroom door seemed to swing shut of its own accord.