Baldwin, Barbara - Indigo Bay.txt

by Indigo Bay (lit)

  Indigo Bay

  ***

  Barbara Baldwin

  It had to be a dream. People couldn’t travel through time.

  But if this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up...

  Mica’s heart refused to slow down as the stranger moved

  close to her. Even though she knew he meant to kiss her, she

  felt more curious than threatened. Tall and dark, he wore a

  white shirt with billowing sleeves and snug black pants that

  disappeared into the tops of knee high black boots. She noticed

  he had his dark hair clubbed back, though bits curled around

  his angular face. Mica caught a hint of humor in his gaze, along

  with something far more dangerous.

  Instinct shouted this was his domain, and she tried to regain

  her composure and come up with a reason for being in his

  room. However, her composure slipped drastically when he

  took the book from her and replaced it on the shelf.

  And touched her in doing so.

  Mica gasped when their bodies came into contact. The hard

  muscle beneath the soft linen of his shirt caused her breasts to

  ache in reaction to his touch. Heat branded her, and her heart

  thudded a dangerous beat. She knew she should ask him to

  back up because he was a virtual stranger. Handsome, but still

  unknown.

  Nothing could have prepared her for the seductive power

  of his brown eyes—dark, penetrating eyes capable of reading

  her most intimate thoughts. Tiny worry lines crinkled at their

  corners, and she felt an unbidden desire to touch him and soothe

  the frown from his face. His gaze captured hers. Black brows

  rose in question.

  Yes, her mind screamed, regardless of the question.

  Overwhelmed by the pure sensuality of the man, she didn’t

  move a fraction as he lowered his lips to hers. Just before his

  eyes closed, she caught a glimpse of passion in their dark

  depths.

  His kiss dissolved any defenses she may have constructed,

  and she groaned as his arms circled her to pull her closer.

  She vaguely recalled a novel where the author wrote, “The

  heroine felt devoured.” She had laughed at the time, but now

  understood.

  For two modern day heroines—

  My mom, Mitzi, and my daughter, Cassie.

  I’m so proud of both of you!

  To my husband, Dave, and my son, Tom,

  And to my dad, Rusty—

  You are the heroes of my life.

  Acknowledgments:

  Thanks to my own personal research assistant

  Maxine Ganske

  Librarian extraordinaire!

  To Linda Kichline, editor & publisher—

  Thanks for your faithful support of the paranormal genre.

  You’ve given many of us the extraordinary opportunity

  to share our hearts with others.

  Indigo Bay

  ***

  Barbara Baldwin

  One

  Cameron, South Carolina –Present Day

  “Thomas...Thomas.”

  The raspy whisper brought Mica Chadwick out of her chair

  to lean over the bed. Paying little attention to the names and

  comments mumbled by her aunt, she silently damned modern

  medicine for not being able to prevent heart attacks and their

  debilitating effects.

  “Michaela, dear, you’re here.” Her aunt wheezed, then

  stopped. Mica held her own breath, waiting. She made a grab

  for the emergency button when her aunt’s eyes popped open

  again and she coughed. A trembling hand blindly groped for

  Mica’s own, and Mica squeezed it to reassure herself as well

  as her aunt.

  “I have to leave soon, Michaela Marie.” Her aunt more

  often used her full name rather than the shortened nickname

  Mica preferred. Mica smiled now at the sound of it.

  “Aunt Theo.” A gentle squeeze from her aunt’s hand cut

  off her words.

  “It’s time...time for me to go.”

  Mica looked deep into clear blue eyes so like her own. She

  could see her aunt was lucid, but she didn’t like what she heard.

  “Auntie, no. You’re going to get better, truly.” Mica knew

  what the doctors said, but she told the lie, anyway. At eighty-

  nine, Aunt Theo’s heart had worn out, and Doctor Jacobs didn’t

  know how long she could last. “If you rest and take your

  medicine—”

  “I’m not going lying flat on my back, Michaela Marie.

  You know better than that. I signed papers last week at Dr.

  Jacobs’ office. I’ll not have tubes and needles and whatnot

  making me look like a porcupine.” Her aunt’s voice,

  surprisingly strong, gave Mica new hope.

  Just as quickly she began to cough, and Mica supported

  her so she wouldn’t choke. Blue-veined hands clutched Mica’s

  arm until she knew she’d bruise. Still she held her aunt, cooing

  reassuring words close to her ear and smoothing her white hair

  with a trembling hand.

  “Thomas needs you, Michaela Marie. Go to Sea Crest and

  be with him.” Though her grip had not loosened, her aunt’s

  voice faded to a croak.

  “Sh...sh...don’t try to talk.” Mica didn’t know anyone

  named Thomas, but she refused to agitate her aunt by telling

  her that. She carefully laid her back upon the bed and pulled

  the covers over her frail form. Thinking she slept, Mica turned,

  but Aunt Theo’s whispered plea stopped her.

  “You’re the only one who can save him, dear. And Thomas

  can make you happy.”

  “Aunt Theo...” Mica turned back, but noting the closed

  eyes and shallow breathing, she didn’t continue her argument.

  Her gaze remained on the rise and fall of the coverlet to assure

  herself Aunt Theo remained with her. She had no idea to whom

  her aunt referred, not that it mattered. Mica did not need, or

  want, another man in her life.

  She reached out to caress her aunt’s gnarled and weather-

  wrinkled hand, noting a small amount of dirt under her nails.

  Mica would bet any amount of money her aunt had been

  working out in the garden again, in the heat of the day, and

  most probably without a hat.

  Her aunt’s warm hand tucked into her own formed a bridge

  to her memories. Mica closed her eyes and thought back to her

  childhood and the time spent with her aunt at Sea Crest, the

  old family home on Cameron Island. Even though it had been

  turned into a bed & breakfast inn years ago, Aunt Theo kept an

  apartment in one section, and Sea Crest remained a unique

  place to spend a summer. As an inquisitive and energetic kid,

  Mica had learned to swim in the ocean, play hide-and-go-seek

  in the garden maze, and dress up in old, old clothes from the

  attic.

  Aunt Theo’s hand stirred beneath her own to scatter the

  daydreams.

  She had recently planned time off to visit Sea Crest. Not

 
only did she dearly love her feisty old aunt, but she needed

  time to come to grips with her life, her failed marriage, and her

  career as an attorney. Now her plans would be on hold, for

  Mica wondered if Aunt Theo would ever live at Sea Crest again.

  The very thought of her not puttering around the estate and

  telling stories about the “old days” saddened Mica immensely.

  She stepped into the hall and called her mother, who

  promised she would be up first thing in the morning. When

  she returned to her aunt’s room, panic clutched her chest to

  find the bed empty, the IV tube dangling uselessly to drip onto

  the floor. She rushed to the bed to buzz the nurse’s station when

  she saw her aunt’s small form in the chair by the window. Relief

  washed over her even as she started to scold her for leaving the

  bed.

  When her aunt didn’t respond, Mica moved closer to shake

  her awake. The poor dear sat tilted at an uncomfortable angle,

  but when Mica touched her shoulder to wake her, her hands

  dropped from her lap and her head lolled to the side. Mica

  knelt beside the chair.

  “Great-great-aunt Theodora Josephine, wake up, do you

  hear me?” Frightened now, Mica scrambled across the bed and

  pushed the nurse’s button, then slid off to her aunt’s side again.

  She sobbed as she searched for a pulse but couldn’t discern a

  beat.

  Nurses pushed her aside. Sharp commands to the orderly

  had him placing her beloved aunt none too gently back onto

  the bed. A nurse hovered to check for pulse and respiration,

  but when she shouted, “Code blue,” Mica had seen enough.

  “No.” The soft-spoken word echoed across the bleak room.

  “It’s standard procedure, Miss.”

  Mica knew the nurse only followed hospital rules.

  “No. She didn’t want the needles.” Her gaze caressed her

  aunt’s beloved face, peaceful now in death. “It’s too late,

  anyway. She’s already gone.” Tears obscured her vision. Her

  fingers trembled against her lips as she tried unsuccessfully to

  muffle a sob.

  The hospital staff moved aside to allow Mica her grief.

  There’d be papers to sign, and reports to file. As an attorney,

  Mica was familiar with the Advanced Directive Statutes of

  South Carolina. She also knew there had been no court case to

  test the limits of living will declarations. The hospital would

  protect itself from liability. But none of that mattered at the

  moment.

  “Here, Miss, she must have dropped this.” She was vaguely

  aware of the orderly pressing something into her hand before

  he left the room. Mica bent to place a farewell kiss on her

  aunt’s wrinkled brow. She looked younger now. Perhaps Aunt

  Theo had been right when she said the time had come to leave.

  Mica now realized her aunt would never have been happy

  in a hospital or nursing home. If Theodora Josephine Ashley

  couldn’t be at Sea Crest, she didn’t want to be anywhere. Mica

  smiled through her tears and said a silent prayer to God to take

  good care of this very special lady.

  She brushed at her eyes, only then realizing she held a

  paper in her hand, crushed almost beyond repair. Carefully,

  she smoothed it flat against her chest as she moved towards

  the light. Her breath caught in surprise as she scanned the legal

  document.

  “Oh, Aunt Theo, what have you done?”

  ***

  Katie French, a lifelong friend, had stopped by Mica’s

  Charleston apartment every day since Aunt Theo’s funeral two

  weeks before. For the first time, Mica felt up to speaking about

  her aunt’s bequest. She still couldn’t believe her own father

  had written the document and never said a word about it.

  “It’s so exciting, Mica! You own Sea Crest!” Katie, like

  one of those perpetual motion toys, paced back and forth from

  the breakfast bar to the couch. She had the energy and

  personality to run Sea Crest, not Mica. “Well, aren’t you

  excited?” she asked, stopping just long enough to throw Mica

  a perturbed look, hands on hips, before she started pacing again.

  “What do you suggest I do with a bed and breakfast so far

  up the coast from my law practice?” Mica questioned her. She

  had come to terms with her favorite aunt’s death, but didn’t

  know if she was ready to visit Sea Crest. The inn held too

  many memories.

  “Is it true that Theo’s family owned the whole island? How

  romantic!”

  Mica grinned at her friend’s enthusiasm. Katie had married

  her childhood sweetheart and had three adorable kids. She spent

  her days at the country club, or shopping, or doing volunteer

  work. She employed a housekeeper and a nanny, and she didn’t

  worry about paying bills or struggling to make sense of her

  life. Mica sometimes envied her.

  Instead, Mica had a routinely predictable and dull life. She

  had a responsible career. She had made a responsible marriage

  to a family of strong social standing, even if her husband had

  proven to be anything but responsible. She always paid her

  bills on time, visited her parents often—as a good daughter

  should—and dressed in fashionable, conservative, suits.

  As Katie chattered on about Sea Crest, Mica began to think

  perhaps the time had come for an adventure. She was tired of

  being reliable. She laughed to herself at the thought, for she

  and her father had already spent hours shifting cases to ensure

  she had the time off she requested. Any cases that couldn’t be

  postponed had been given to a junior executive to handle in

  her absence. She rose from the couch and headed for her

  bedroom, confident Katie would follow.

  Katie plopped on the bed, stomach first, and propped her

  chin in her hands. She certainly didn’t act like a twenty-nine-

  year-old mother of three. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “You’ve been badgering me to go to Sea Crest, so I am.”

  Mica watched her friend’s mouth drop open. “There. Are you

  happy, now?”

  “Oh, Mica, that’s wonderful! I know you’ll love it. We

  had such fun there when we were kids.”

  “Katie, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re not kids

  anymore.”

  “Michaela Marie Chadwick, listen to me. If you just let

  your hair down, you will relax and have fun. You might even

  meet someone interesting up there.” Katie forever worried about

  her being alone, though Mica was happier single than married

  to Richard.

  “Yes, ma’am. I promise.” She grinned as she gave her friend

  a hug.

  ***

  A sense of peace stole over Mica the moment she dropped

  her bags inside Sea Crest’s front entrance. She smiled at the

  smell of lemons, which would forever remind her of Theodora

  Josephine Ashley, Sea Crest’s eccentric matron.

  Mica’s great-great-aunt had maintained a home here even

  though she had a manager. She would often help with

  reservations, set menus with old-time recipes, and gre
et guests.

  She had liked people, and wanted anyone who stayed at Sea

  Crest to feel at home.

  A new manager greeted Mica, her nametag identifying her

  as Mrs. Anna Harris. “Ms. Chadwick, we were all so sorry to

  hear about Mrs. Ashley. We considered her more a dear friend

  than an employer.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Harris.”

  “Oh, you just call me Anna. Here, let me take your bags. I

  expect you’ll stay in your aunt’s apartment. Well, it’s yours

  now, isn’t it?”

  Mica nodded as she followed the woman down a short hall

  to the northern part of the house. She didn’t question how the

  woman knew she had inherited Sea Crest. She was curious,

  however, about the nervousness in the woman’s voice. Perhaps

  Anna thought Mica intended to take over and oust her from

  her position. Mica would certainly discredit that notion in a

  hurry. As much as she loved her aunt, she couldn’t fathom giving

  up a law practice to run a bed and breakfast.

  “Oh, my.” She had forgotten how Sea Crest resisted change.

  The manor maintained the grandeur of more than a century

  ago. A short hall separated her aunt’s apartment from the inn,

  and as they entered the high, oak-trimmed doorway, Mica felt

  drawn back in time. The sitting room, full of antiques, contained

  dark, wood furniture with brocade seats, heavy draperies, and

  even needlepoint pillows on the couch. A small kitchen stood

  to her left, one of the few concessions to modern times. Directly

  in front of her, spanning almost the entire north wall, tall

  windows embraced a set of French doors that overlooked the

  lovely gardens her aunt had cherished.

  “I’ll put your bags in here, Ms. Chadwick.”

  Mica followed the woman into the bedroom. She noticed

  her aunt had re-papered the room in a yellow rose pattern. It

  certainly helped brighten the effect of the dark wood highboy,

  vanity and canopied bed that occupied the spacious room. Again

  floor to ceiling windows looked out over the garden and

  fountain.

  “Thank you so much for making me feel welcome, Anna.”

  “Well, you are Mrs. Ashley’s niece, after all, Ms.

  Chadwick.” The woman gave her a warm smile.

  “Please, call me Mica. We don’t stand on formality here,

  do we?”

  “I’ll try, Ms...Mica, but you and Mrs. Ashley, well, you’re