“I thought I’d pay a visit there one day myself, maybe buy some of her fancy soap. I’ll smell so good she won’t be able to resist me.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, Peyton, but I think it’d take more than soap.”
He laughed and slapped his hand on the counter. “I knew I liked you. And I’m sure you’re absolutely right.” He was still laughing when she looked at him solemnly and said, “Mr.
Robe . . . Peyton, I heard someone say there’s a curse on our house. What did they mean? What kind of curse?”
“Oh, darlin’, don’t worry your pretty head about curses. Enjoy your house. My old flame used to live there, but I guarantee you I never put a curse on it.”
Elise smiled. “I can’t imagine you putting a curse on anything.”
“Well now, young lady, don’t go underestimating me. I might could cook up a doozy of a curse if I put my mind to it.”
Elise laughed. “Well, please don’t.”
Peyton winked. “I promise. Just for you.”
“You must think I’m always prying.”
“Not at all, darlin’. I’ll be your answer man any day of the week. We’ll do most anything to get you to come visiting, won’t we, Bobby?”
Bobby gave Peyton a stern look. “That’s right, Miss Elise. You’re always welcome.”
Elise waved and started out the door when she stopped short, nearly bumping into the girl she’d seen playing Monopoly on the porch.
Jill smiled and said, “You’re new here, aren’t you? I’m Jill Simpson.”
“Yes, I guess I’m still new. My name’s Elise Foster.”
“If you weren’t born here, you’ll always be new, I guess.” She laughed. “Well, see you around.” Jill turned and crossed the street.
Elise looked back and saw Peyton watching her. She waved again and continued down the sidewalk.
“I really like that girl,” Peyton commented to Bobby, “but something bothers me. I just can’t figure out what it is.”
“Maybe it’s her mother that’s really bothering you.”
Peyton raised one eyebrow and hesitated. “Nah. But something isn’t right. I can feel it.”
“Why didn’t you tell her about the house?”
“I couldn’t. I wanted to, but it wouldn’t come out. Guess I just want her to be happy.”
“She’s bound to find out.”
“I know, but I’ll deal with it when the time comes, I guess.” Elise looked back, wondering if Peyton was still watching her. He wasn’t, but she hesitated a moment, feeling caught in one of her waking dreams.
Seth, you’re doing such a beautiful job. Papa must love this house. He was just foolish over the stable you built. And now this—a paddle wheeler.
Well, he made his fortune off the water. I thought it might appeal to him. And I knew you’d love it.
Annelise turned in his arms and looked into his eyes.
He smiled down at her. Don’t forget, darling, you were my inspiration. I feel guilty as hell though, letting you come here and see it.
I’ll never let on. I wouldn’t take anything for our time here together.
Nor I, Annelise, nor I. Be careful now, don’t trip. I want to show you the secret stairway I built.
Elise shook her head to clear her thoughts and circled back around the block so that if she were seen, it’d look like she was coming from home. Just as she approached the main street, a blue pickup went speeding past her. She sighed. Another redneck. All the windows were down, and music was blaring. This wasn’t unexpected. What was surprising was that it was something from Rachmaninoff. The truck halted at a stop sign, and she saw a dark-haired young man lean out the window and look back at her. Two hounds in the back of the truck looked too. The wonders of Apalach, she thought, and continued toward the shop.
A bell chimed when Elise opened the door. Margaret turned and said with surprise, “Elise!”
“Remember, I said I’d stop by.”
“I know. It’s just that you look so, so . . . I mean your hair and the lipstick. You look very nice.”
“Your shop looks nice too. Wow! You’ve done so much since I was here the last time.” Elise looked around the room and couldn’t deny that her mother had a knack for decorating. She’d done everything in yellow and white with green accents. Margaret had scoured the countryside picking up old pieces of furniture that Edwin then painted, and now ivy and dried flowers spilled out of shelves and drawers, breaking the merchandise into neat little sections. She even had an old claw-foot bathtub with an arrangement of bath items and candles. There were bars of soap wrapped in lace and tied with green ribbons. Elise slipped one in her pocket for Mrs. Myers. After all those good meals, her parents owed Mrs. Myers big time. “Mom, the old bathtub is a wonderful touch. How . . .” At that moment the bell chimed, and in walked Dallas. Elise felt a pang of guilt to know so much about a woman she’d never met.
Margaret walked up behind Elise and put her hands on her shoulders. “Well, Dallas, here’s my absentee daughter, Elise, you’ve been wanting to meet.”
“This certainly is a pleasure,” Dallas drawled. “I was beginning to think your parents had just made you up.”
Elise smiled and reaching for her hand found it surprisingly cool and soft. “I’ve heard so much about you from my mother, Mrs. Anderson. I’ve wanted to meet you too.”
“Dallas, honey. Call me Dallas. Everyone does.”
Dallas still held her hand so Elise squeezed it and said quietly, “Dallas.”
Dallas cocked her head. “Elise is such a beautiful name, a favorite of mine.”
“Thank you. It came to my mother in a dream.”
“Oh my, how romantic!”
Margaret was completely flustered. “Elise, you shouldn’t tell people things like that. You make me sound like a perfect ninny.”
“But, Mom, you did . . .”
“That was a long time ago, and it was probably just hormones.”
Dallas laughed. “Whatever it was, it suits her, and I think it’s perfectly charming that it came to you in a dream.” She threw her arms wide. “Don’t you think your folks have done a marvelous job with their boutique? Who’d ever guess it had been a dusty old hardware store. I guess you know my husband owned this place. I loved every nail and tool in it, but I’m glad not to recognize it any more. There’s nothing of my Tom here now, and that’s the way it should be. I refuse to grieve and be maudlin the rest of my days.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Dallas,” Margaret put in. “It makes me feel good to think we’ve helped you through a difficult time. You surely helped me by leasing us this space. You don’t know what grief you saved me in not having to deal with that awful Peyton Roberts.”
“Oh, Peyton’s not so bad, once you get to know him. He loves to affect this pure cracker persona, and you just have to accept how he is. His family goes back a long way here, and that gives him a sense of pride he didn’t earn. There’s nothing more debilitating than inherited pride. But Peyton’s a smart man. Don’t let that cracker accent fool you. He’s educated too, but you’d never guess it to hear him talk. He can discuss Shakespeare in one breath and paranormal phenomena in the other. Peyton’s a talented man, but he’s had an unhappy life. He could never please his father, and the only woman he ever loved married someone else. He never got over it.”
Elise tucked a long strand of hair behind one ear. “Which didn’t he get over?”
“Sarah. He never got over loving Sarah. He gave up trying to please his father. I think that’s why he started playing the cracker role. He’s done it so long now I sometimes think he believes it himself.”
“Uh, Mrs. Anderson, Mom said you’ve lived here all your life. Maybe you can answer a question for me.”
“Dallas, honey. Please. Makes me feel younger. Don’t let these gray hairs fool you. They’re premature, I swear to God. But what’s this question you have? If I can’t answer it, I’ll bet nobody else can either, except maybe Peyton.”
/> “I was wondering about the house down on the river, the one that’s supposed to be haunted.”
“Elise,” her mother began.
“It’s okay, Margaret. I know all about that. Yes, it’s supposed to be haunted. I believe it is. And why shouldn’t it be? If ever a house deserved to be haunted, that one does. You’ve heard the story?”
“I know about the bride who was burned on her wedding night.”
“That’s what happened. It was before my time, but that memory has been kept alive by those who told the story down the years, that and the screams and footsteps that have become part of the very fiber of that house.”
“You’ve heard them?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean others haven’t. If I catch the scent of honeysuckle, I don’t have to see the vine to know it’s there.”
Elise smiled. “I’d dearly love to go inside, just to see it.”
“Elise!” Margaret scolded. “I can’t believe you’d be so forward.”
“It’s a natural curiosity, Margaret. Who isn’t fascinated by something supernatural?”
“I, for one,” Margaret replied dryly.
“Well, I’m with Elise, and I can get you in that house any time you like. The women who live there, Aunt Jenny and Aunt Lacey, are distant relations of my husband. Very distant, but his folks always treated them like family. Tom’s father ran a café here, and Mr. Anderson was always sending something good to eat up the hill to his kin. And then years later my Tom took up the mantle with the hardware store, always making little repairs or something for them.”
“Dallas, I’m sorry. We don’t mean to pry. I’m sure Elise doesn’t want to impose . . .”
“She’s not imposing. Not at all. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to, believe me. Good lord, Margaret, what have I got any more if it isn’t time? I’m ashamed to say I haven’t been to see them but once since Tom died. Elise is doing me a favor. It’s time I went, and I’ll take you with me, Elise. I’ll call you in a few days.”
“Oh, thank you so much, Mrs. . . .” she stopped when someone knocked on the door. Dallas turned and said, “Louise! Margaret, you don’t mind if my friend Louise Montgomery comes in, do you? The girls in my bridge club have been dying for a look inside here. Louise’s house is just a few blocks from yours, you know.”
“No, I’m afraid I didn’t know.”
“Not nearly as grand as yours, Mrs. Foster, and shame on me for not having called and introduced myself before now. But welcome. It’s nice having neighbors in the boat house again.”
Dallas turned then and said, “And this is Margaret’s daughter, Elise.”
“So pleased to know you, Elise. You must be about my daughter Debby’s age. You should come over sometime and get acquainted. Debby and her friends keep a wicked game of Monopoly going.” She laughed. “I think it’s the same one they started in junior high.”
Dallas cleared her throat. “She might be more interested in meeting your handsome son, Louise. Elise, you’d adore Stan. He’s away at college at the moment.”
“Not to brag, but I’m a proud mom, Elise. Stan’s coming home soon, and I’ll just bet Dallas will see that you meet him. She loves to play cupid.”
Elise blushed, thinking of Lawrence, and stammered, “I . . . I’m really glad to have met you both, and I’ll look forward to seeing you again soon, Mrs. Anderson.”
Elise started out the door, calling back, “I’ll buy some vegetables and fruit so we can have a cold salad for dinner, Mom. It feels too hot for anything else.”
“Sounds good to me.” Margaret waved, but Elise was already hurrying along the sidewalk.
11
Elise’s head reeled at times with all the things that interested her, most of all Lawrence Myers. Much as she tried to stay away from him, she couldn’t seem to help herself.
She walked with purpose now, moving swiftly to close the distance between them. By the time she reached the eastbound highway the sun seemed to climb as fast as she walked. Her stride broke momentarily when she heard classical music. A truck pulled to the far side of the road and the dark-haired fellow she’d seen earlier called to her.
She held her hand to the side of her ear and shook her head. He turned the music off. “Can I give you a lift?”
“Thank you, no. I’m fine.”
“I’m not dangerous,” he called.
“I didn’t think you were.”
“Well then, let me give you a lift.”
“I need the exercise.” She noted from the corner of her eye that the truck inched along the highway, keeping pace with her.
“In this heat? Come on. I live here. I don’t bite.”
“Really, no.”
“Please?”
Elise ignored him and continued walking. A short distance ahead, she saw him park the truck under a tree. When they were nearly level, he got out of the truck and crossed the road.
“I can’t believe this,” Elise muttered.
“Neither can I, but how else can I get to know you?” She stopped. “What about your dogs?”
“They’ll be there when I get back. How far we going?” L.L. Bean she thought to herself as she took in his faded red plaid shirt, jeans, and short black boots. He was older than she’d thought though, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four. “WE aren’t going anywhere.”
“Careful. You’re liable to hurt my feelings.”
“As if I care.” She stood her ground, arms akimbo.
“Aw, come on. I just wanted to meet you.”
She extended her hand. “My name is Elise.” She turned to leave, but he continued holding her hand.
“Around here it takes two names for an introduction.”
She sighed. “Elise Foster.”
“No, I meant you should know my name too.” He put his other hand on top of hers and said, “It’s Ty. Ty Roberts.”
“Oh! Any relation to Peyton?”
“Second cousin. You know Peyt?”
“I’ve been in his store a few times.” She slipped her hand from between his and continued up the sidewalk.
Ty went back to his truck and drove slowly beside her. The dogs stretched their necks over the side of the truck and never took their eyes off her.
“Sure you don’t want a ride?”
“I’m sure.”
When she crossed the street to the fruit stand, Ty pulled over and stopped too. “You sure come a long way for some fruit.”
Elise just smiled.
He bought a bag of boiled peanuts, but she lingered over the fruit until he gave her a mock salute and got back in the truck. When he was out of sight, she started up the road to see Lawrence.
Just like the first day, Lawrence was in the swing, not waiting for her, but seeming to defy her for disturbing his routine. The minute she started up the steps, he walked toward the door. In the beginning she’d call to him, begging him to wait, but now she knew better than to waste her breath. It only made him angrier. Today, though, he stopped with his hand on the door. With his back to her he said, “Leave us be. You’ll destroy what we have here . . . please.”
“That’s the last thing I want to do. I just want to be a part of your lives.”
“That isn’t possible.”
“It is if you’ll allow it. I think I’ve waited all my life to be here. It’s like I never lived until now. I’ve always been on the outside looking in. And no one cared.”
“No one cares now. You don’t realize what you’re doing. I wish things could be different, but they can’t.”
“But they can! Just give me a chance. Please!”
“I can’t. Not even if I wanted to.”
“And I can’t help wanting to be here. I can’t help how I feel about you . . .”
“Don’t . . .”
“Don’t? I told you. I can’t help myself. Do you think I enjoy feeling this way? And anyway, your mother likes having me around. And I think you’re mean not to talk to her. You don’t have a problem talking to me.”
“I don’t have a problem talking to you. I have a problem with you. From the first day you came here . . .”
“Well, I have a problem with you too. That’s why I can’t stay away.”
“How did you get here?”
She laughed. “I walked. How else?”
“Then you walked a very long way.”
“Yes, I did. That should be proof that coming here is important to me.”
He nearly turned to face her but then continued inside the house.
“Try smiling once in awhile,” she called after him. “Maybe it’d make you feel better.” The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she could hear her mother saying the same thing to her. This was different though. Totally different.
Mrs. Myers came to the door and looked puzzled. “Were you talking to someone, hon?”
“Just Lawrence. He talks, Mrs. Myers. Don’t you ever doubt it.”
“I pray to God you’re right, but still I can’t believe it. Talking to you helps me though. Honey, you don’t know how wonderful it is to have you here. I didn’t realize how much I missed the company. But mostly, I’m thankful for you talking to Lawrence, taking such an interest in him and all. You talk to him just like he’s anybody else, like he cares what you say. I appreciate that. You give him dignity.”
“He doesn’t need dignity, Mrs. Myers. But there’s such a stubborn streak in him.”
“It’s not that he’s stubborn, dear. It’s his illness.”
“Maybe so. But I’m determined to find a way to get through to him.”
Elise followed her to the kitchen, picked up a pan of green beans and began snapping them. “Have you always lived here, Mrs. Myers? Is Apalach your home?”
“Law, no. I came here as a bride from North Carolina. I was a mountain child. But that was so long ago, Apalach is home now.”
“Did you ever hear about the house that’s haunted, the one on the river?”
“My, yes. Who hasn’t heard that story? And we have sort of a connection to it. My husband was a distant relative of the young man who built Mr. Lovett’s stable and later a house for his daughter. His own design, they say. But then he was accused of murder.
House on the Forgotten Coast Page 10