Baldwin, Barbara - Indigo Bay.txt

by Indigo Bay (lit)

  to the nearest padded room.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have anything older than those letters,”

  her mother said “During the War Between the States, many

  family records were either destroyed or hidden and never

  recovered. I remember when we worked at the Society more

  than one woman commented on the tragic loss of family history.

  And, too, so much of our past was lost during the fire.”

  “What fire?” Mica asked, her heart beginning to pound

  again.

  “Oh, heavens, dear, I don’t recall the date. Long before my

  time. Probably even before Aunt Theo’s time. I do recall,

  though, something about lost stock certificates. I’m not sure

  what happened, but Aunt Theo did say once if the stock had

  remained in the family, there would have been no need to sell

  off most of the Sea Crest land after the war.”

  Mica filed that information for future reference since she

  had no idea whether stock certificates played a part in this

  game or not. She gathered her aunt’s letters, replacing the faded

  ribbon to hold them together. Then she rose from the chair and

  flexed her shoulders to relieve her tension. So much to think

  about.

  “I need to go, Mother. Thank you for the scrumptious meal.”

  She bent to kiss her mother’s cheek, anxious now to leave and

  mull over all she had learned.

  “Oh, by the way, Lucy has your clothes mended. You really

  should be more careful. She said she had to completely replace

  your zipper.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mica waved as she exited the parlor.

  Grabbing her clothes by the front door where Lucy had left

  them, she headed back to her apartment. As she drove, she

  plucked at the new buttons Lucy had put on her pajamas.

  Now she understood what happened when she went through

  the door, and she wondered if there weren’t certain rules that

  had to be followed. She recalled the flower that had turned to

  dust when she returned from Indigo Bay. How could she play

  by the rules when she didn’t know what they were?

  That night, even though she stayed at her apartment, she

  dreamed of Logan, waking herself when she cried his name

  out loud. She pawed through the medicine cabinet for the

  sleeping pills she had depended on after her divorce. As the

  capsules tumbled from the bottle into her hand, she hesitated.

  She hadn’t taken the pills to Sea Crest with her and hadn’t

  needed them. Why start up an old habit?

  Because the answer to her question was the source of her

  current sleeplessness—Thomas Logan Rutledge. She hated that

  he had made her feel again, much deeper than she wanted to

  admit. Besides that, he had unknowingly teased her with a life

  and freedom she couldn’t have in her own time.

  But she didn’t want to dream about him. She didn’t want

  to recall his sensuous lips on hers, or his gentle voice and caring

  nature. She didn’t want to remember, and yet his allure remained

  so strong, she felt the tug on her heart even though centuries

  separated them.

  She contemplated her aunt’s dying words and the most

  recent discovery of her letters. Before she had to return to work,

  she still had time to return to Sea Crest and try to help Logan

  in some as yet unfathomable way.

  She couldn’t deny the whole situation intrigued her. Was

  her aunt talking about Logan when she had mentioned a man

  named Thomas? Why hadn’t Aunt Theo told anyone about the

  door or her correspondence with Maggie? Who started the fire

  at Indigo Bay? The questions piled up, intensifying the sense

  of mystery surrounding Sea Crest.

  Mica packed her bag for the trip back up the coast to

  Cameron Island. She shook her head ruefully, knowing that by

  returning to the bed & breakfast, she might lose her heart. Yet

  the memory of Logan sent her senses into a tailspin.

  ***

  Mica hadn’t tried to pass through the door during the day.

  She no sooner slipped the key into the lock than a horrendous

  alarm sounded from somewhere behind her. She jerked the door

  shut and whirled around, her heart erratic and her skin instantly

  damp with nervous perspiration.

  She passed a shaking hand over blurry eyes as she tried to

  focus. Even when she recognized the intruder as Professor

  Bigley, jittery sensations still rippled along her spine.

  He stood by the door to his room, his ghost machine

  clutched to his chest and his eyes wide with disbelief. As his

  gaze came to rest on her face, his mouth turned down in a

  frown, and his bushy gray eyebrows lowered to show his

  disappointment.

  But his infernal contraption kept ringing in her ears.

  “Professor, can you shut that thing off?” Mica yelled to be

  heard over the racket.

  His hand dropped to the box, and within seconds, silence

  again shrouded the halls. “I don’t understand...” The confused

  professor concentrated on his device. He flipped a switch as

  he walked over to Mica, and the alarm instantly filled the air

  with squawking.

  Before Mica could open her mouth, he adjusted the volume

  to a high-pitched beeping. Though tolerable, it still grated on

  her nerves.

  “Professor Bigley, you scared the wits out of me! I suggest

  if your machine isn’t working, you keep it turned off so you

  don’t disturb the other guests.”

  “But Miss Chadwick, it is working. In fact, for several

  days I picked up random signals from the north end of the

  house, but I have been unable to locate the exact source. Two

  days ago, the signals quit. Now they’ve started again and appear

  to be very strong right around you.” He eyed her suspiciously.

  Two days. She’d returned to Sea Crest two days ago before

  leaving for Charleston. Now she was back, and the professor’s

  signals were back. And he was inspecting her as though he

  thought she was a—

  “Professor Bigley, I am not a ghost.” She laughed outright

  even as the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She slowly

  stepped away from the door to move down the hallway. The

  professor followed, and as he did, the intensity of the alarm

  faded. When they reached the top of the stairs, it quit altogether.

  The professor’s face scrunched into a frown again. His

  fingers adjusted knobs as his gaze darted from the machine

  back to her. “How odd. I thought I finally found…” He stopped

  mid-sentence and looked up at her again. “I am sorry. Of course,

  you’re not a ghost. It’s just the last week has given me such

  hope of a discovery.”

  While his words were apologetic, Mica sensed he still

  considered her a spectral suspect. She started down the stairs,

  knowing she could never attempt to enter the door now. “If

  you would like my birth certificate—”

  “No, no.” He laughed good-naturedly. “I’ll just have to

  keep trying, that’s all.” He turned towards his room, and Mica

  had a sinking sensation in her stomach.


  “Professor?” When he stopped and turned back to her, she

  continued. “Is there a way to attach a bell to your machine,

  instead of that awful alarm?” She could tell he was already

  lost in thought, for he murmured something incoherent as he

  shuffled towards his room.

  Mica’s stomachache continued as she walked down the

  stairs to the main floor. What if the professor’s machine really

  worked? What if he had been picking up vibrations of life from

  Logan’s side of the door? Now he had apparently picked up

  phenomenon from her because she had been there.

  She would have to be more careful the next time she

  attempted to cross the threshold into the past. Under no

  circumstances did she want the professor or anyone else to

  find out what lay beyond the door that supposedly didn’t open.

  Mica ran into Mr. Barker at the bottom of the stairs. He

  turned guiltily at her approach, his pudgy hands hidden behind

  his back. Papers were strewn across the reception desk. Mica

  knew Anna wouldn’t leave such a mess, and she began to

  suspect Mr. Barker of mischief.

  “Uh, well, Miss Chadwick, you’re back.” He made it sound

  as though she shouldn’t have been there, and Mica wondered

  what he was trying to hide from her.

  “Of course, I’m here, Mr. Barker. I live here.” He backed

  away from the desk. Mica raised a brow, glad to be in the

  offensive position instead of being the guilty party as she had

  with the professor. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”

  “I...uh,” the man sputtered, glancing anywhere but at her.

  Mica’s investigative nature kicked into fast-forward. She

  stepped quickly around him before he had a chance to back

  further away. His hands clutched a leather bound book, but

  Mica couldn’t see the title before he swiveled to face her again.

  “What do you have, Mr. Barker?” she asked, suspicious

  of the rotund little man who thought to find buried treasure.

  “There is no call for concern. The journal belongs to us.”

  He clutched the book to his chest. “And you have given us

  permission to search.” His pathetic look almost made her feel

  guilty. Almost.

  “The permission didn’t mean you could intrude on other

  people’s privacy or property, Mr. Barker.” Mica cast a pointed

  glance towards the reception desk.

  To defuse the situation and shed some light on the mystery

  that seemed to surround Sea Crest, Mica flashed her friendliest

  smile. “Perhaps if you allowed me a glimpse of the journal, I

  could help you. After all, I’ve been associated with Sea Crest

  much longer than you.”

  Mr. Barker handed over the journal without a qualm, his

  round face glowing with enthusiasm for her support. “Why,

  that would be very thoughtful of you. Not many people would

  be so kind toward helping another find a treasure.”

  Mica had serious doubts about any treasure, but she did

  question why the Barkers thought there might be some here on

  the island. She surveyed the book as quickly as possible,

  because she knew if Mrs. Barker happened by, both of them

  would be in trouble.

  The entries were not dated, nor could she find the author’s

  name inscribed on the front or back cover. The script proved

  almost impossible to read, written in black ink with little regard

  for legibility.

  She squinted as she read out loud. “...I shall rename the

  isle after myself, instead of some damned crop, which will

  yield him no money after I have my way.”

  Apparently whoever had compiled the journal felt a

  tremendous anger, for the sentences Mica could make out were

  forceful and the language abusive. She continued to read

  silently.

  The bastard refuses to acknowledge what is rightfully

  mine. Not only does he have the land, but now the gold as

  well. I shall endeavor to return when ghosts haunt the land

  and a raging inferno consumes all he holds dear. Then I shall

  have my revenge!

  More ghosts! Mica thrust the book back into Mr. Barker’s

  hands. She rubbed sweaty palms up and down her jeans, trying

  to brush away the negative vibrations she sensed while holding

  the book.

  She took a deep breath and called on her years of training

  to state the facts. “There are no names in the book. Nowhere

  does it remotely mention Sea Crest. Although gold is mentioned,

  what makes you think the journal is about this island?”

  Mr. Barker gave her a smug smile. “You obviously have

  not studied it as we have. There are references to the Cameron

  Islands, and indigo, a crop grown in this specific area before

  the Civil War. The journal tells a story of family strife, also

  common during that period when one brother had what another

  coveted.”

  “How weird,” Mica mused. “ May I see that again?” It

  sounds just like Logan and his stepbrother, she thought. She

  held out her hand, only to have the book snatched away by red-

  tipped talons.

  “Certainly not!” Nadine Barker grabbed the book, her

  lacquered nails beating an angry staccato on the leather cover

  as she clutched it to her chest.

  Her husband visibly melted under the heat of her glare.

  His face reddened as his shoulders slumped. Mica might feel

  sorry for him, but she wasn’t about to wither beneath the

  woman’s haughty manner.

  “I was telling your husband that perhaps I could be of

  assistance since I’ve known Sea Crest all my life.” Her smile

  froze the instant the other woman spoke.

  “I’m sure you would be more than willing to help my

  husband, Miss Chadwick.” The snide undertone in her words

  could not be mistaken.

  Mica bristled. “Surely you don’t think—“

  “I think you’d better leave my husband, and this journal,

  alone. What’s mine is mine.” The woman stepped between Mica

  and her husband, and if Mica hadn’t been so angry, she would

  have laughed outright.

  “I have the same rules, so please confine your search to

  public areas only.” Mica’s gaze swept the reception desk before

  she looked the taller woman straight in the eye. “Just so we

  understand each other.”

  A winner in any confrontation got in the last word and left

  first, so Mica sailed from the room, back straight and head

  high.

  ***

  Much later that night, she still chuckled when she thought

  about Mrs. Barker’s preposterous claim that she might have

  amorous intentions towards Mr. Barker. If the woman only

  knew where Mica’s intentions lay, she would have heart

  palpitations of her own!

  She closed the overnight bag she had packed and grabbed

  the key from her dresser. Locking her own door behind her,

  she crept through the house barefooted, confident all the guests

  were asleep. Having no idea whether Logan had returned yet

  from business, she could only hope she would beat him back

  to Indigo Bay. Trying to explai
n where she had been would not

  be easy. It became more and more difficult to disguise the truth.

  The instant she crossed over and tossed her bag onto the

  bed, she felt as though she had come home from a very long

  trip. Home—she smiled at the idea.

  She saw lights glowing from below and followed them

  down to the kitchen where she found Mattie just finishing the

  dishes. She had a cup of tea with the housekeeper and visited

  like old friends—another nice feeling. Even though Mattie

  didn’t question her whereabouts over the past couple of days,

  Mica mentioned having returned to Sea Crest on estate business

  since Logan was gone.

  “Master Logan is expected later in the evening,” Mattie

  said as they cleared away their teacups.

  “Then I may wait up for him,” Mica replied. “Good night,

  Mattie.”

  As Mica climbed the stairs, she contemplated her strategy.

  It wouldn’t do any good to postpone telling Logan about Neil.

  After all, that was the reason for her return. Mica kept telling

  herself that, even as she donned her most becoming dress and

  brushed her hair until it shone.

  She glanced longingly at the big poster bed and decided

  she’d better not wait for him in her bedroom. She wandered

  into the music room, recalling the time she had come upon

  Logan as he played the piano. Even then, he had captured her

  heart with his soulful music and his magnetic smile. Her fingers

  caressed the keys. It had been ages since she had played, though

  music had been her passion when younger.

  ***

  Logan watched Michaela from the doorway. His brow

  smoothed, and his tense muscles relaxed as the music swept

  away the business worries he had confronted in Charleston

  over the past several days. He sighed deeply, aware it wasn’t

  the music at all that made him feel this way, but her presence.

  He didn’t question how or why she had appeared in his

  life. He only rejoiced in the fact that she had. She was so

  beautiful, her graceful hands caressing the ivory keys with

  tenderness. Yet he remembered how those same hands had

  touched him with urgent passion during their last night together.

  God, how he had missed her!

  She must have sensed his presence, for her fingers never

  faltered as he laid his hands on her shoulders, bending down to