speak to her. He just kept a death grip on her wrist, walking
fast enough that she had to trot to keep up.
Just as they reached the drive, Logan stopped abruptly,
and she slammed into his back. He still didn’t look at her, but
instead gave orders to his foreman.
“Ezra, post some men to keep watch and find out if anyone
saw anything. This fire, just like the first one, was deliberately
set.”
Mica sucked in her breath at his words.
“Mister Logan, I knows who done it,” Robby said.
Mica had seen him running down the drive when his father,
Ezra, and the others approached. He now pulled on Logan’s
pant leg to gain his attention.
“Robby, boy, not now,” Ezra quietly reprimanded his son.
“But, Paw, you seen ‘em, too.” Robby wouldn’t be put off,
and Logan finally released Mica to squat down in front of the
youngster.
“All right, Robby. Tell me who you saw.”
“Ghosts.” With a vigorous nod of his head, Robby solemnly
pronounced the word.
“Robert Ezra, you listen here. There be no such thing.”
Ezra caught the child by the shoulder and spun him around.
Mica touched Robby’s curly head and gave him a weak
smile to reassure him. But his next words caused her to jerk
back in dismay.
“But I seen ‘em! Big white creatures, hauntin’ and floatin’
all around, with huge black holes for eyes and fire ‘stead of
arms.” The small boy gestured wildly, his eyes wide with the
horror of what he had witnessed.
Logan watched Michaela race for the house. Why hadn’t
she stayed there in the first place? He would no doubt find his
hair gray beneath the soot. She had scared him half to death
when he looked up to find her fighting his fire.
Even though she had disobeyed him, he had found it hard
to maintain his anger in the wake of teary, sky-blue eyes peering
at him from a soot-streaked face. He sighed, anxious to reach
the house and confirm she hadn’t been seriously injured. At
the same time, he wanted information.
“Ezra?”
“Some folks says they seen somethin’, but I don’t believe
in no ghosts, Mister Logan.” His foreman firmly shook his
head.
“Then who?” Logan scanned the area, but the dark of night
obscured all signs. The light from the fire no longer illuminated
the grisly scene. Why?
He had no answers, but he knew the people who worked
for him would do anything to keep Indigo Bay alive. They had
proven that with their efforts tonight. Too tired and too upset
over Michaela’s actions to worry about what he couldn’t
change, Logan shook his head in frustration.
“Keep an eye out,” Logan ordered. At his foreman’s nod,
he turned towards the house.
Once he had washed off some of the soot and donned a
clean shirt, he searched for Michaela. He found her in the
downstairs study, pacing between the desk and bookshelves.
She had washed and changed. Her skirts swirled as she moved,
and her dainty feet padded soundlessly across the carpet.
God, if anything had happened to her—
His heart swelled with pride at the way she had pitched in
to help, mindless of the danger to herself. Even so, his anger
rose right along with his love.
“Look at you. Don’t you realize you could have been hurt
out there?” He heard the anger in his voice but couldn’t help it.
Horrid scenes flashed across his mind, all of them ending with
her hurt in some terrifying way he could not stop. He grabbed
her hands to still her movements, his eyes tracing the red spots
dotting her arms where sparks had singed her fair skin. “I told
you to stay in the house.”
“I’m perfectly capable of helping.”
From the icy tone of her voice, he realized she had
misinterpreted his reasons for saying what he had. He lifted
her injured hand, turning it over to inspect the blisters. She had
been hurt fighting his fire and trying to help save his crop. He
raised her hand to his lips, tenderly kissing the raw flesh. She
cared so much, had been willing to sacrifice as much as he.
He watched her stormy gaze as she struggled to control
her anger at his careless words. His throat constricted, and his
eyes hazed with unshed tears, for at that moment Logan loved
her more than life itself.
He pulled her roughly into his embrace, burying his face
in her hair. The faint scent of lemons wafted even over the
stench of smoke. Sweet, just like the woman who brought such
joy to his life and helped him forget the difficulties.
“My dear, adorable, Michaela Marie. Never believe I doubt
your capabilities.” He pushed her to arm’s length, hands on
her shoulders as he gazed into her sea mist eyes. “Seeing you
so close to the blaze frightened the hell out of me. Can you
understand how devastated I would be if anything happened to
you?”
His hands shook with the force of overwhelming emotion.
He watched her eyes cloud with tears. She tucked a strand of
hair behind her ear, refusing to meet his gaze. He caught her
hand and kissed the injured palm.
She pulled away from his embrace, her shaking hands
shuffling papers needlessly on the desk. Logan realized
something was amiss, but he couldn’t put his finger on the
source of her disquiet.
“Michaela, what is it?”
“I...I may know who started your fire.” Her words were
muffled, her head turned away from him.
“What?” He couldn’t believe what he heard. Surely she
didn’t have anything to do with this. She had appeared in his
life just before the first fire, not long after he had come home
to Indigo Bay. No, he refused to believe she could—
“I said—” she repeated.
“I heard what you said,” he shouted. She winced as though
he had struck her, and guilt lowered his voice. “What do you
know?”
She turned then to face him, her cheeks streaked with tears,
her eyes betraying the same wretchedness he felt. How could
something so wonderful dissolve right before his eyes? Why
did his gut twist as though she drove a knife through him?
Surely whatever she had to say could not kill their love.
“There’s a journal. I don’t know whom it belongs to,” she
began. “I haven’t even read it all, but clear reference was made
to ‘ghosts haunting the land and fire destroying all he holds
dear.’”
She looked at him, pleading with her eyes, but for what?
Logan couldn’t comprehend the meaning of her words.
“Where is this book? If you don’t know who owns it, how
do you know the writer means to destroy me?” Her story was
almost as preposterous as Robby’s ghosts, but something in
her voice told him she wasn’t weaving a fanciful tale.
“Would you recognize Neil’s handwriting if you saw it?”
“Damn it, Michaela, why do you keep bringing him up?
how can you judge him capable of doing something like this?”
Logan lashed out, knowing his words stung with the force of a
whip, but he couldn’t retract them.
He knew Neil was still upset over his father’s will and
realized the man he had always called Brother harbored ill
feelings. Regardless of the arguments they had, Logan refused
to believe Neil capable of burning Indigo Bay to the ground
just to spite him.
“I can prove it.” Mica said at his disbelieving look. “I’m
sorry, but I can.” She turned towards the door, tears obscuring
her vision as she almost tripped over the leg of a nearby chair.
God, it hurts so much. She hadn’t known it would be this hard.
She had only wanted to warn him. She looked back. He
stood there, hands clenched and shoulders rigid, his eyes telling
her he refused to believe her.
Or perhaps he believed that she had something to do with
the fires. Her heart screamed—No, don’t destroy our love by
thinking that.
“I’m so sorry, Logan.” She sobbed, her words echoing
across the chasm that had opened between them. “I do love
you.” She didn’t know if her whisper reached him, because
she turned and fled.
It had been useless to think she could help. Instead of
retrieving the journal to show Logan, she would just lock herself
on her own side and never bother him again.
“Michaela, wait. I’m sorry.” His voice reached her down
the length of the hall as she climbed the stairs.
“Oh, God, why did you make me fall in love with him?”
Another sob caught in her throat as she raced to the
extraordinary door that would provide her safety.
Tears spilled down her cheeks and obscured her vision as
she tried to fit the key into the lock and remove herself from
Indigo Bay. She swiped at her eyes with one hand, willing the
other to quit trembling so she could make her escape. She could
hear his boots on the stairs, each step pounding louder than her
heart.
“Oh, no! Please let me be gone before he gets here.” Mica
couldn’t bear the thought of having to tell him good-bye.
Coward though that made her, she knew she couldn’t face him
and say the words. She turned her head and glanced down the
hall as the lock gave beneath the flick of her wrist. She could
see his shadow grow as he topped the stairs. Any second he
would see her.
The door swung open, but she couldn’t get the key out of
the lock.
“Michaela? What are you doing? Don’t go through there!”
The panic in Logan’s voice and his heavy footsteps as he sped
towards her spurred her into action.
She jerked the key out just as Logan caught her wrist. As
she lurched through the doorway, her forward motion propelled
both of them over the threshold.
“Damn it to hell, woman! This section isn’t...” His voice
ended in a strangled whisper as she watched him gaze around,
“...finished.”
Mica felt the familiar tingle shoot up her arm as Logan
released her wrist. In the dim light of the hallway he appeared
almost transparent.
“Oh, Logan, you can’t be here. It’s just not possible.” Mica
had deduced some rules about the passage through time,
because things had a habit of disappearing when she went
through the door. And when she brought his flower back to the
present, it had turned to dust.
“I can’t be here?” His voice sounded incredulous. “What
the hell are you talking about? Where is here? This section of
the manor hasn’t even been built.”
Mica saw his eyes flicker about, trying to absorb what he
saw, and she didn’t know how to explain.
“What’s going on out here? Who’s making all the noise?”
Mrs. Barker stepped into the hall, dressed in a pink ruffled
nightcap and a pair of men’s striped pajamas. Mica groaned as
she watched the woman’s husband pop his bald head out by
her side, curiosity clearly written across his sleepy face.
“Mrs. Barker, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Who the hell is that?” Logan’s voice boomed in the
silence, and Mica knew he couldn’t possibly understand what
was happening.
“Please, just be quiet a minute, and I’ll explain.”
“I most certainly will not be quiet, young lady.” Mrs.
Barker’s voice rose an octave. “You have no right to talk to me
like that considering the amount we pay for these rooms.”
Mica glanced from Logan to Mrs. Barker in astonishment.
“I wasn’t speaking to you, I—”
“Squawk—ERK, ER-er-erK!”
Mica jumped a foot at the sound. Shock waves ricocheted
through her body, and she glanced down to see Logan’s hand
clasping her elbow.
“What in the name of Satan is that?” Logan gasped.
Mica thought hysterically that she couldn’t remember ever
hearing him swear quite so much as he had in just the last few
minutes. Her world was falling apart, and all she could think
of was Logan’s sweet nature turning irreverent because of her.
She giggled, glancing helplessly from the Barkers back to
Logan, wondering why Mrs. Barker didn’t comment on his
appearance at her side.
“Michaela, answer me.” Logan’s stress-filled voice reached
her.
She tried to formulate a reply, but Mrs. Barker swept around
the corridor and pounded on Professor Bigley’s door,
demanding he silence his infernal alarm. Before the woman
could beat the door down, the professor appeared in a knee-
length nightshirt, his gray hair standing on end.
Demonic bleeps, which escalated into a continuous, ear-
piercing screech, emanated from the silver box he clasped to
his chest.
The incredible noise bounced against the shadowed hallway
walls. As everyone shouted at once, their voices covered Mica’s
strangled whisper.
“Oh dear God, the ghost machine.”
Nine
“This is it! Pictures—I’ll finally have pictures!” Professor
Bigley shouted as he fumbled with a switch on the side of the
box.
Mica watched in horrified silence as he shuffled towards
her, his ghost detector positioned in front of him. Buttons
flashed and alarms blared over the others’ yelling.
Her arm tingled, and she knew without looking that Logan
still clutched her elbow. For some inexplicable reason, she felt
the need to protect him. She stepped in front of him, hoping to
block the professor’s view.
“Turn that damned thing off!” Mrs. Barker barreled down
the hall after the professor, and Mica saw her chance to get
Logan away.
She turned her head to whisper, “Stay behind me, no matter
what happens.” Before she could move, he quickly stepped in
front of her.
“It’s my responsibility to protect you.” He reached out to
push her behind h
im, but all Mica felt was the continuous tingle.
“No!” She yelled to be heard above the clamor. Stepping
back in front of Logan just as the flash of a camera momentarily
blurred her vision.
“This is no time to go chauvinistic on me, Logan. Just stay
close,” she pleaded as she scooted along the wall, moving as
quickly as she dared.
She flipped the first switch she could reach on the box as
she came abreast of the professor. The sudden silence echoed
as loudly as the noise had.
“Thank you so much, Professor,” she said. “I’m sure you
have what you need now that you’ve interrupted everyone’s
sleep.” She shouldn’t really blame him, but at the moment, she
needed a diversion.
“But,” the professor stammered.
“Please, everyone, go back to bed. Hopefully there won’t
be any more disturbances tonight.” Mica had reached the top
of the stairs and started down, careful to keep herself between
the patrons and Logan. She collided with Anna, who apparently
had heard the commotion from her room below.
“Get everyone back to their rooms and soothe any ruffled
feathers, please,” she pleaded with the inn’s manager, but she
didn’t wait to see if her instructions were carried out.
She had to get Logan out of sight, because she could sense
the tension building in him. It would be difficult to explain his
presence to the other guests if he decided to react to his strange
circumstances.
She hurried down the short corridor to her apartment door
before she realized she had no keys. “Damn!” She pivoted,
raced back to the registration table and yanked the extra set
out of a drawer.
Logan followed her into the apartment, and she slammed
the door behind them. Only then did she dare breathe easy. She
slumped against the door, hanging her head in resignation.
“Would you care to tell me what the hell just happened?”
A see-through Logan stood before her, hands braced on hips.
A dark scowl marred his handsome features.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head in wonder, thinking
the light was playing tricks on her, because he looked like a
faded out photograph. Even so, she couldn’t believe he stood
there in her twenty-first century apartment.
“What do you mean, you don’t know? You walk through a
Baldwin, Barbara - Indigo Bay.txt Page 19