“You’re right, I don’t want to know about that. I do think Jan could help us, though. She knows all about these hippy-dippy kinds of things.”
“I’ll call her now. Maybe she can come over later this morning,” I said.
“Great,” he said with grim determination.
I flushed, feeling fifty shades of guilt. Who knew one mistake would cause so much collateral damage? I handed Baby Boy a bowl of Cheerios, which he quickly dumped all over the floor. His dad decided the boy wanted toast, and he was right.
I let the phone ring and ring, but Jan didn’t pick up. “No answer, babe. I’d better check in with Austin.”
“I don’t care for that guy. Something about him.”
“Lots of somethings about him, but beggars can’t be choosers. And what about what we saw? I swear that was him hanging from that live oak.” The weird cuckoo clock sounded again. It was eight o’clock now.
“Was it Austin or the ghost of David Garrett trying to scare us away from this place?” he asked.
I shrugged, my eyes wide with worry. I had no answers. For the first time in a long time, Carrie Jo Jardine Stuart didn’t have a plan. Nada. Nothing.
“Fine, you call him, but I’m putting my foot down on the dream walking. No more going off together. If I can’t go, you can’t go.”
I agreed and made the call.
I hoped I wouldn’t regret it.
Chapter Nine—Henri
“I don’t want to go back to Seven Sisters right now, Henri. If you can’t understand that, I don’t know what to tell you.” Detra Ann stood with both hands on her hips, which pretty much meant she wasn’t changing her mind. My wife had a stubborn streak a mile wide, and I was too tired, too straight-up stressed out to make the effort to shift her stance. Honestly, it was probably a good idea for her to stay away. Seven Sisters had some funky feels going on at the moment.
She rubbed her round tummy protectively and said, “I’m not going back up there until they’ve gotten it all straightened out. If that makes me a bad person, so be it. I hope you know I’m only thinking of our daughter.”
“And I love you for it, Detra Ann. That’s fine, but I have to go collect my cameras and stuff later. I want to see who’s moving around in that house. Wouldn’t it be great to finally catch an apparition on film?”
“I don’t need to see one on film. I’ve met plenty, remember? One even shot me.” She leaned across the kitchen counter, her straight blond hair tumbling over her shoulder. As always, my wife looked like she had stepped out of a Southern Living magazine. Today she wore pearls and a sleeveless brown and white dress. Her tanned arms and legs were toned and perfect. Detra Ann was the epitome of loveliness, but I couldn’t let my guard down too much. If I did, she’d know my secret.
“Technically,” I began, but with one look at her, I quickly realized I needed to shut up right now. What I was going to say—if I had been allowed to—was that the gun went off by accident as she fell down the stairs. But I totally believed that the malevolent ghost of Isla Beaumont scared her silly that day. “I mean, I think I should help them. You stay here, work in the nursery if you like, and I’ll pop up to Seven Sisters, grab my gear and come back. You can help me review the footage. How does that sound?”
She slid her arms around my neck and kissed the top of my bald head. “Boring as heck.”
I guided her into my lap, and she put her arms back around my neck. I kept my mental shield up—I had to because my wife had a knack for knowing when I was lying to her, and this lie was a doozy. Her beach ball belly was too irresistible not to rub. Still hard to imagine that growing inside there was my own flesh and blood, our flesh and blood. I smiled. We were truly going to be a family now. If I didn’t screw it all up and prove her mother right. The high-and-mighty Cynthia Dowd didn’t care for me too much, and I worried that my daughter might inherit that dislike from her grandmother, but Detra Ann didn’t believe that.
“My mother might be a lot of things, Henri, but she’s not racist.”
Yeah, sure. Then explain why she counts all the silver spoons after each formal dinner I attend.
“I love you, Henri Devecheaux. I can’t imagine my life without you.”
“Me either.” I kissed her and hugged her close, my heart heavy and my mind tired.
“What is it?” she whispered in my ear. “You have something on your mind. Spill the beans, Harry.”
Showing a humor I didn’t feel, I kissed her quickly. “All right, don’t start working your mojo on me. I’m a little tired today, but that’s it,” I said with a laugh as she slid out of my lap. She play-punched my shoulder but didn’t give me a hard time. I quietly breathed a sigh of relief. It felt good to be alive this morning, real good. In fact, I felt wonderful today. That full moon had really taken a toll on all of us, but now things seemed back to normal, thank God! I hoped it stayed that way.
“Fine, we’ll do it your way. But when we’re done reviewing the tapes, we have to go to the antique shop. We’re reopening in just two weeks.”
I swallowed at the reminder. I’d made it happen, covered my losses and managed to buy Cotton City back. But what I had to do to get it, my wife didn’t need to know. “It’s a deal. Let me hop in the shower. Unless you want some breakfast first.”
“I would love something tasty, but your daughter, the ballerina, will not let me eat yet. I have to wait until she goes to sleep again, or at least until she stops pirouetting. Then I’ll try something bland and boring, like oatmeal. I hope her taste buds improve when she’s born. I miss my spicy Cajun food. Just one month to go!”
“Hard to believe it’s that soon.” I leaned in for one more kiss. “And she’s going to look just like her mother with big beautiful eyes.” I gave her another kiss. “And she’ll have those long, athletic legs and your sense of style.” I kissed her again, then said with a big grin, “And she’ll have my bald head just to make things interesting.”
“Stop that!” she said, laughing as I tickled her. “You’ll jinx us! We don’t want a bald-headed baby. But if we had one, I’d be okay with that. I’d just take her to a wig shop. Now get going and then get your ass back here, mister. We’ve got work to do.”
“Your wish is my command.” I hurried off for a shower, changed my clothes and grabbed my tote bag. I didn’t have much hardware to retrieve. If I could take care of it quickly, I might be able to go by the bank and check our account. I had to give Mike something. He’d be expecting a full payment, which I didn’t have. Why in God’s name had I agreed to two hundred percent interest? Oh yeah, Devecheaux. Because you decided to lie to your wife about your balance sheet when you married her. I’d always presented myself as a successful businessman, and I’d even believed it for a while. And now my pride was going to kill me.
After I dressed, I waved goodbye to my wife and stepped out into the sunlight. I’d barely gotten to my car when all hell broke loose.
“Hey, Devecheaux! You think we forgot about you? We ain’t forgot about you. Mike asked us to give you a reminder. We want our money, and we want it today.”
Next thing I knew, fists were flying. Mike’s dudes accosted me with a flurry of punches and then quickly disappeared. As I lay on the ground stunned and bleeding, the younger one said, “You have until tomorrow to get it together. Don’t make us come back! The next meetup won’t be so friendly!” The skinny young man jumped in his Mustang and sped away, his friend laughing beside him.
I heard Detra Ann screaming as she raced toward me. Others were gathering around me, and someone was calling 911 as I passed out.
***
“Peas and carrots and onions, my ass. You are a fool, Henri. Look at you now. Half dead and lying to your wife. Didn’t you know that would catch up with you eventually? You can’t do what you did and expect it to go right.”
“Lenore?” With surprise, I opened my eyes to see my cousin sitting on the grass beside my wife, who was crying and trying to wake my physical body. In her typical mismatched fashion, my d
ead cousin wore a purple top and bright red shorts. She had a red ball cap on her head, as if she’d just been out for a run.
Lenore snorted at my stupidity. “Who else? You wish you looked this fine. I see I haven’t been missing anything; you acting stupid as usual. You married that girl, and now you got a baby coming. You have to come clean, fool, or you gonna die. How can you leave that baby with no daddy?”
“Am I dead?”
She snorted again. “Not even close. But you got knocked around pretty good. And you deserved it.” She eased closer and leaned down over me. I could hear her quite clearly, but nobody else seemed to hear her or see her—or me at all. “Well, fool, I can’t believe you’re going to be a dad. You sure she’s carrying a girl? That belly looks kind of low to me. You might have boys, twin boys!”
“I am dead. Oh God! Detra Ann!”
“No, Henri. You just half dead. That’s why you can see me. I’m a ghost, and you’re alive. But when you’re half dead, you can see me. It’s kind of a family thing. Now listen to me, and listen to me good.”
“Help me, Lenore. I need you to help me.”
“I can’t fix your screw-ups, Henri. Never could. You always acted like I was the screw-up. Humph. The only help for you is to be truthful. I don’t deal with no liars, I can promise you that, but you’ve got other worries besides this mess.”
“If I live through this, I will. I will make everything right.”
She patted me on the top of my head and said, “You see that you keep your promise, Henri Devecheaux. Because if you don’t, I promise you the next person you see from this side will be Grandmama—she wanted to come today, but I wouldn’t let her.”
“What are those other worries you’re talking about?”
“That house. Your friend, Carrie Jo. She’s done a good job of stirring up the spirits around here. Anytime you tinker with the past, you draw out the crazies. And ghost crazies are much worse than your average living crazy.” She laughed at that but then frowned seriously. “She’ll have to see it to make the wrinkle straight, and it won’t be pleasant.”
“You aren’t making any sense, Lenore.”
“To a fool like you, I sure wouldn’t. But you tell Carrie Jo—let him do what he has to do. Don’t try to stop him.”
“Who?”
“She’ll know when the time is right. She’ll have to let it happen, just like the rest of us.”
Suddenly a piercing sound broke the silence and I was back, fully back in my body and feeling every injury. For one last moment, I heard Lenore’s voice in my ear.
“You are a darn fool, Henri Devecheaux. Do what’s right!”
“I will, Lenore, I will.” Tears slid down my face as Detra Ann leaned over me.
“He’s awake! Oh, thank God. He’s talking!”
Then I passed out again. I prayed I wouldn’t die all the way this time.
I had something to do.
Chapter Ten—Austin
I pulled my car into the long driveway that led to Seven Sisters. The plantation hadn’t changed much, not really, but if I looked hard enough I could see many modern touches. I wondered what old man Cottonwood would have thought about such adjustments to his family home. Always such a proud, unpleasant man.
Carrie Jo and Ashland had accomplished so much here; it was a shame the City of Mobile couldn’t figure out how to manage an estate like this. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all—it was back in the hands of the people who truly loved it. I was glad I could make that happen for them. I never expected they would pay me back. This was a gift to them, a cosmic adjustment, as Nathan used to say.
I put the car in park and tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. The new electrical lamps near the door that were supposedly reproductions of the original versions were nice and efficient, but they didn’t hold a candle to the originals when it came to style. I smiled to myself at the unintended pun. But that wasn’t the only thing that seemed out of place. There was no red dirt road peeking out from under a loose covering of gravel and shells. That was one thing I always hated about Alabama, all the red mud. A man could get mired in that pretty quickly after a good rain. I had a horse one time, a lifetime or two ago, who’d gotten mired up to his shanks. Took four men and a mule to haul him out. Luckily, we were able to remove him without injury.
It’s true! I am David Garrett!
Other features of the grand house were askew as well. The massive wisteria that used to crowd the front veranda had been eradicated and never restored, and the cast iron frogs that Cottonwood had commissioned for the front lawn were missing. I wondered where they’d gotten to. Hopped away, I suppose.
And another thing, what happened to the old well? It used to be on the left side of the house. I got out of the car and decided to take a walk, thinking perhaps I could recall where it had been. With each step I took, the memories came rushing back. The smell of fresh cotton shirts and my own sweat, the feel of a stiff dress hat on my head, the moving of the water beneath the Delta Queen as we sailed down the Mobile River.
I didn’t think it strange that I would recall these memories now. It was as if knowing who I truly was had opened a door, and now the real me could step out. I’d always known I wasn’t a man meant for these times. As I walked, I noticed other changes too—the satyr statue no longer greeted approaching visitors; some discreet individual had relocated him to an out-of-the-way corner. I wondered if this was the original or perhaps a reproduction. It seemed impossible that it would be the original, but stranger things had happened. Yes, Mr. Satyr was a perverse-looking creature, but my Isla had always enjoyed him. In fact, sometimes she’d climbed up the fountain and straddled the stone girl to pretend that she, Isla, was the one being assaulted by the nasty-faced satyr. She quite enjoyed showing off her drenched body for me. And I never tired of looking at her. Or touching her.
Isla Beaumont, a dusky purple sky behind her, her wet blond hair stuck to her head, her white gown made transparent by the cold water. I swallowed at the memory of her smiling down at me.
Isla, my love and my destroyer. My exquisite angel and tormenting demon.
She had been my Achilles’ heel, not in one life but in many. It felt intrinsically wrong to be here when she was not. Isla had offered up everything to have Seven Sisters and the fortune that accompanied it. Her family, her body, her happiness, her sanity—even me. And now I was here without her. She thought to end me, to kill me, but I had survived. Somehow, I survived, thanks to Nathan and the brothers. Over the years, I’d forgotten the shape of her face, the taste of her lemonade-tinged lips…until I returned here.
Walking past the sealed well, I strolled into the rose garden. I could hear the Stuart child in the house, singing one of those annoying children’s show themes to himself. I would have liked to have been a father, but I would never know what that was like. I sighed and stuck my hands in my blue jean pockets. I remembered this place. The varieties had changed; there were fewer of those bright pink Bonninghams now. The place seemed fuller and not as carefully cultivated as it had been under the watchful eye of Christine Cottonwood. By the time I’d arrived at Seven Sisters, Calpurnia’s mother had taken to her bed for the most part. I never actually met her, not in life.
But she was here now. Standing in the garden, her hair piled perfectly on her head, long wisps lifted on an invisible breeze. As if she were one of her precious blooms, she wore a rose pink gown and a black choker of some fine stones. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t bend, yet I felt compelled to speak to her. I was, after all, an uninvited guest in her home.
“I’m not here to do harm, Christine.”
She hovered for a moment, her expression one of disbelief and impatience. I could see now that the hem of her gown was fading, and there were no shoes either. It took a great deal of energy for a spirit to manifest to the living. By doing so, Christine clearly meant to send me a message:
Go away now! You are not welcome here!
Message rece
ived, but I can’t. I’m here to help, I swear it. Carrie Jo and Ashland need me to help them. I am not who you think I am.
That wasn’t quite the truth, but there had been changes I couldn’t explain to her now.
Now her gown faded, but I could still see her upper torso and face quite clearly. She was beginning to lose color, and her brow was knotted with frustration and anger.
“Wait, Christine! Why did you appear to Lafonda? What were you warning her about? I have to know!”
She slid toward me—all the color had faded from her face now, and that was all I could see, just her hair and her face. I was seeing a ghost in broad daylight, but somehow that didn’t seem strange.
The child…help…the child…
“Child? What child?”
Her mouth moved, and then she vanished, taking all the warmth from the garden with her. Still standing on the pathway, I waited, hoping that by some miracle she might return. But there was nothing else. For a moment, I thought I heard a soft sighing, a stirring in the air. I waited another minute, but she never came back.
Then I heard the Stuart boy again. Singing louder now.
And I knew exactly why she was there.
Chapter Eleven—Carrie Jo
“I have a message for you, Carrie Jo. It’s from Henri. He says he saw Lenore and she gave him the message. No, please don’t ask me any questions. I can’t talk about it right now. We’re working with a detective, and I hope they will help us. Henri is in…” Then she broke down into unintelligible crying.
“What is it, Detra Ann? Please speak up! I can barely hear you. What’s wrong with Henri?” The doorbell rang as Ashland stared at me, clearly concerned. “Please go get the door, babe.”
He did and returned a few seconds later with Austin. We were all camped out in the Blue Room, and Baby Boy had the television as high as it would go. Right now, he was dancing around in his Winnie the Pooh pajamas to the world-famous purple dinosaur tune. He was oblivious to all of our shenanigans at least. Lucky kid! I smiled at him as he made a face at me. His now-brown eyes were sparkling with delight.
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