The stories I heard whispered in the tea rooms of Mobile were quite unlike the fanciful tales that Mrs. Delarosa liked to share with us in her parlor. If I were to believe her, she sprang from an illustrious Castilian lineage that traced back to Catherine of Aragon. Unfortunately for her, the snobby upper class of Mobile thought of the Delarosas as peasants in fine clothing. As my father liked to say, “It is the new disease, these new men and their questionable fortunes. Placing that kind of money in the hands of peasants; it is terrible, just terrible. The war has brought us nothing but the end of polite civilization.”
But why would Jacinta Delarosa kill Max Davenport? I could not imagine an answer except that Max was a horrible person, the kind of man who allowed his cleverness to be his undoing. Max could have done anything, been anyone, even a success, but chose instead to live an immoral and corrupt life. How he came into the employ of the Delarosa family left me scratching my head. No, I must not think of him tonight. He had not forced me to lie with him; I did what I did to have what I have. What’s done is done. It was only once, and at least he was gone now. I yawned and became drowsy as I cuddled up to Jonatan. A smile curled up on his lips even though his eyes did not open. He said in his quiet sweet voice, “Memphis, you are my wife.”
“Yes, I am your wife. And you are my husband, Jonatan.” I leaned over him and kissed his cheek. His dark eyes opened, and I admired his long lashes, longer than even mine. He stroked my arm tentatively, carefully, as if I were some porcelain doll he was afraid he might break.
“When will we go home, Memphis? I want to see my sister. I want to show you my room.” His dark brows furrowed in worry. We had had this conversation many times already.
“Will you share your room with me?” I asked as I smiled down at him patiently.
“I do not think…I mean, girls are not supposed to be in my room.” He frowned in the purple shadows of our room. “I told Max this, but he does not listen to me. I think he will get us in trouble one day. I do not like girls to be in my room.”
Hearing this did not surprise me at all. It would be so like Max to desire Jonatan’s corruption. I could not push him too far too quickly, but I had to introduce the idea of sharing a room with him now. It would be important when we returned to Seven Sisters that Jonatan and I stay together. It would be easy for his mother to separate us if we did not. And I would not allow that.
“I have an idea, husband. Why don’t you keep your room, and I can take the room next to you? Then you could come and visit me, and I could come and visit you. We would follow the rules, but you must understand, Jonatan. Husbands and wives often stay in the same room.”
He looked uncertain. “That is Lafonda’s room.” Then he brightened and said, “You could share a room with my sister!”
“Maybe. We will see.” I kissed him, and he quickly forgot about our discussion. We would talk more about it later. Right now, I wanted to possess my husband, to enjoy his beauty. I kept my nightgown on, afraid that Jonatan might be frightened by the sight of my growing belly. He understood that a baby was coming, our baby—I refused to contemplate any other circumstance—yes, the baby would arrive soon, but I did not explain to him the method of the child’s arrival, nor did I intend to. One had to be careful with these kinds of things.
We had barely finished our lovemaking before rough hands began banging on the cottage door. “Jonatan Delarosa! Open this door at once!” My husband sat up in bed and looked frightened as he slowly got dressed. I dressed quickly too and beat him to the door. My hair was unbound and my nightgown hung off my shoulder, but my protective instincts had kicked in. This was no friend visiting us, for no one knew where we were. No one.
Except for Jacinta Delarosa.
“Yes? What is it? Who are you?” That was a useless question because I recognized the man right away. This was one of the sheriff’s deputies, although his name escaped me at the moment.
“I am Theodore Barnum, Deputy Barnum, ma’am. I am here to place Jonatan Delarosa under arrest.”
“Under arrest? For what?” I waved Jonatan back behind the door, but I knew it would be of no use. The deputy had his foot in the door, and it would be impossible to close it. He was not going to leave us in peace.
“For the murder of Max Davenport.” He shoved the door open, nearly hitting Jonatan with it. “Come with me, sir. No hiding from your crime.”
Jonatan struggled a bit, but he was in no way handy enough to escape the grasp of Deputy Barnum. Barnum forced him outside, and I chased after them. “This is a mistake! You need to talk to Jacinta, Jacinta Delarosa. Jonatan had nothing to do with Max’s murder. He wasn’t even there! Please, you are making a mistake. Jonatan!”
Barnum shoved my husband into the carriage and whipped out a pair of handcuffs that he quickly attached to him. I banged on the carriage door, but Barnum pushed me aside roughly. I protectively clutched my belly as I fell and then got back up and came at the carriage again.
Jonatan began to cry loudly and call my name. “Memphis! Memphis! I do not want to go! Memphis!”
“Jonatan! Do not fear. I will come for you! I will be there, Jonatan!” He kept crying and screaming even as the carriage rolled away into the darkness. I had a choice: I could fall to the ground in a heap and cry my eyes out, or I could dress and go to Seven Sisters and demand that Jacinta confess her crime.
Of course, I would do the latter. Jacinta would not be allowed to offer up Jonatan as a sacrifice for her sin. It was time for her to pay the piper, no matter what I had to do to convince her.
Chapter One—Carrie Jo Stuart
I woke up in a crowded bed. Ashland snored next to me, and I loved the sound of it. AJ was on the other side of me; at some time during the night, my husband’s mini-me brought all his stuffed animals in here and arranged them around the perimeter of the bed. They appeared as if they watched us as we slept. I smiled at the sight. Now, this was a pleasant morning. The smell of breakfast cooking wafted up from the downstairs kitchen. Henri must be up too. Our housemates, the Devecheaux family, were more like extended family than friends. I loved having them here at Seven Sisters. Baby Chloe must be getting her morning bath because she was loudly fussing at Detra Ann in the bathroom down the hall.
I turned over and put my head on Ashland’s shoulder. He didn’t wake up, so I kissed his cheek. Still nothing. He’d taken to sleeping quite soundly since his surgery. At least his hair had grown back now. I watched him breathing, just to be sure he was okay. It was a fear of mine that I would look over and he wouldn’t be. And after all he’d been through, it was not an unreasonable fear. But he was better, and he was getting better every day. Yes, he occasionally had to use a walking stick and sometimes got a bad case of the stutters, but he was going to make it. The tumor was gone. I kept telling myself that. It had to be true. The doctor said it was.
Gosh, Ashland. You’re so strong, I’d told him last night. Come to think of it, today was three months to the day from his surgery. Geesh, was it October already? It didn’t feel like it yet. The room was hot and sticky. Come on, fall!
“Momma,” my son said as his tanned arm wove around my neck, “I had a bad dweam.” I loved my son’s lisp.
“Was it the scary bear dream again? Did he chase you down and tickle you?” I tickled his sides gently and looked down into his sweet face, still surprised to see that his eyes were no longer blue but a soft brown. The doctor said it sometimes happened, that a child’s eye color could change, but it was rare to see it in a three-year-old. My son is three! Where has the time gone?
He pushed my tickling fingers away and didn’t appear to want to talk about his dream, so I changed the subject. “I guess you brought all these guys in here to protect us from the bad dreams?”
He sat up in the bed and looked around, his eyes even wider now. “Mommy…I not do that.”
“AJ,” I said with an exasperated sigh, “I didn’t bring them in here, and Daddy didn’t either. It must have been you.”
“No, Mommy.” I hoped he wasn’t going to tell me another lie. He’d been doing that quite a bit lately, although the doctor had told us this kind of behavior was normal and age-appropriate. His imagination is growing, Mrs. Stuart. No need to worry.
Ashland stirred now. “Good morning, family. Whoa. When did Mr. Ruff get here?” He picked up a teddy bear and playfully tossed it at AJ. No stutters this morning, thank the Good Lord. I climbed out of bed and began picking up AJ’s stuffies so Ashland wouldn’t trip over them. Most of these toys were from Rachel’s collection. She’d been kind enough to give them to my son after a visit to her house during our work at the Idlewood plantation, and he’d fallen in love with each and every one of them. Rachel told AJ they were magical creatures, and he sure believed her. Only this morning, he didn’t want to touch them.
“I not do it, Mommy!” He began to cry, and I immediately dropped the toys.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Ashland sat up slowly and reached for our son. I sat on the other side of the bed and patted AJ’s wild hair.
“He had a bad dream but won’t tell me about it. And he says he didn’t bring his toys in here…but as you can see, we have his complete collection.”
Ashland held him close and kissed his forehead. “It’s okay, buddy. We all have bad dreams. But look, the sun is up and it isn’t nighttime anymore. No more dreams. Right, Mommy?”
“Right,” I agreed and kissed our son’s cheek, feeling guilty now that I hadn’t taken his fears more seriously. Best to drop the toy thing for now.
“You go get dressed, AJ, and we’ll get some breakfast. After that, you can help me in the garden today, son. How about that?”
“Okay, Daddy.” With the joy of a child, he beamed and scampered out of our room to get ready for today’s adventure.
“Blue jeans and a t-shirt, AJ,” I called after him. I had to remind him that he couldn’t wear costumes every day of the week. He insisted on dressing himself now, and those costumes were often a part of his selection.
“What about you, Carrie Jo? Did you dream too? Anything I should know about?”
“Nope. I slept like the dead.” It was supposed to be a joke, but I sent chills down my own spine saying it. “I mean, I slept like a log.” I didn’t ask him how he was doing. He hated that question. “I smell pancakes or French toast or something delicious downstairs.”
“Yeah, what are we going to do when Henri moves back to the shop? I’m going to miss those guys. Think we could talk them into staying?”
“No, I don’t think so. It will be good for them to have their own place again. You want that, right? But for now, let’s enjoy having them here.” I kissed him and then got dressed. I wasn’t going anywhere today. Our renovation business had been put on hold, but on good days, when Ashland didn’t need me, I helped Henri and Detra Ann work in their store. They wanted to open before Christmas, and I was nothing but happy for them. Ash needed the recovery time, but maybe one day soon we could think about restarting Cotton City Restoration. Today, I was going to stay home and do some cleaning. It took a lot of work to keep Seven Sisters looking good, and we’d worked so hard, given so much, that I couldn’t neglect her care.
I pretended I had things to do in our bedroom while I waited for Ashland to finish dressing. I made the bed, tidied the closet and returned AJ’s toys to his room.
As I arranged the toys on his toy chest, I had to ask myself, what if Baby Boy was telling the truth? What if he didn’t bring his stuffies into our room last night? What if someone else did? It was odd that they were all positioned to face us, that a three-year-old would think of such a thing, but we were an odd family. I’d have to ask him about it again when he wasn’t so alarmed. I walked back to the bedroom, my arms crossed, my mind deep in thought, and lingered there until Ashland emerged from our bathroom ready to make the trek downstairs. That was the hardest part of his day. Sometimes, his feet forgot how to work, like they didn’t want to obey him, but so far this morning he seemed pretty mobile.
“No need to wait for me this morning. I’m slow, but I’ll get there.” I heard what he didn’t say: Stop babying me, Carrie Jo.
With an uncertain smile, I said, “Okay. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” I walked downstairs slowly and didn’t linger at the bottom of the wide staircase for him like I wanted to. Maybe he was right; maybe I was being too much of a worrywart. I had a tendency to do that.
I miss you, Momma. I wish I could talk to you.
Yeah, that’s what I would do today if the weather held up and my husband didn’t need me. I’d go see her, bring some flowers and make sure her spot looked all right. I couldn’t bring myself to think about what her spot really was—her grave. “Spot” sounded much better. I knew she wasn’t there, but after she’d appeared in my dream that one time, I hadn’t seen her again. But she was okay.
I was the one who wasn’t okay. I didn’t go directly to the kitchen after all. I headed outside to the Moonlight Garden. Time to take a walk.
Chapter Two—Carrie Jo
How long had it been since I’d walked the twisting paths of the Moonlight Garden? To fully appreciate its beauty, it was better to walk the maze at night, preferably under a bright moon, but doing so might put me in the path of a ghost or two. The living weren’t the only ones who walked around here, or at least that had been true once. The ghostly activity had subsided at Seven Sisters after Ashland’s surgery. In fact, I hadn’t even had a good dream since then. At first, I chalked it up to the fact that I was so tired all the time, consumed with taking care of my family, but the dreams didn’t come back even after Ashland improved. Not like before.
Maybe, I thought as I tore a fading flower from a nearby bush and rubbed the silken petals in my palm, it wasn’t me at all. I didn’t know why, but I felt restless this morning. Restless and anxious. I sighed as I tossed the petals to the ground, the scent of camellias lingering on my skin.
Yes, the Moonlight Garden was still a Wonderland with its landmarks, statues of the demi-goddesses of the Pleiades or the Seven Sisters. I knew them all by heart. They were Sterope, Merope, Electra, Maia, Taygete, Celaeno and Alcyone. Calpurnia, the girl who used to live here, the first ghost I encountered here, especially loved Taygete with her long, slender marble neck. Sometimes she even signed her diary Taygete, a fanciful dedication only her mother understood at the time. Atlas and Pleione, the parents of the Seven Sisters, stood in the center of the maze. The statues’ expressions led you to believe that although they were parents, they were not the best of friends. Pleione’s fierce expression and Atlas’ bulky arms did not exude an image of loving parents. I didn’t care for either of them too much.
Yes, this was a beautiful place when the moon shone brightly overhead. Our late friend Terrence Dale had spent so much time in this particular garden. He’d carefully reconstructed the mirror arrangement, hidden mirrors that craftily captured the moonlight and gave the place an eerie glow a few days a month. They bounced the light around and, along with the hordes of white flowers, made Seven Sisters’ expansive backyard appear an otherworldly place. Such a rare thing to have a Moonlight Garden. I sighed as I strolled down the path that led to Electra. I should really be inside making sure AJ didn’t take a marker to Baby Chloe’s bald head. But I wanted to be here. Out here, in this space.
It was warm inside the house, but it was certainly cooler outside. Maybe fall was coming to Mobile before December after all. That was the one thing about living down here on the Gulf Coast, it was perpetually warm…unless it was freezing. But cold snaps never lasted long. I shoved my hands into my jeans pockets as I strolled past Maia, who held a broken jug.
Broken jug? Geesh, when did that happen? Wait until Ashland sees this.
I walked closer to the statue and put my hand out to touch the broken marble. This sculpture needed some attention. It was positively covered with mold. What in the world? We’d repaired the statue during the initial renovations; there was no reason for it to have any damage, much less all
this mold. I looked around but didn’t find evidence of any broken branches, and we’d had no storms recently.
This is so weird.
In the distance, someone called my name, and it sounded like Ashland. I couldn’t tear myself away from what I was looking at to run back to the house right now. He’d understand when I explained it to him.
“I’ll be right there!” I yelled back, knowing full well he wasn’t going to hear me. How could he? I was too far from the house. Come to think of it, how was I hearing him?
Nope. I wasn’t going back yet. I had to look for more damage. The fine hairs on my arms rose up under my long-sleeved t-shirt. It felt wrong here. Clouds quickly gathered overhead and cast a strange gray light over the entire garden. When I started my walk, it had been bright and sunny. Where had these clouds come from?
Another two turns into the maze and I was standing in front of Taygete. I didn’t intend to linger, but I swear—I mean really swear—I saw her move. She turned her head a few degrees in my direction, and I froze like anyone would have. Perhaps it was a trick of the light. There were so many mirrors hidden in here. Maybe that was it?
“Hello?” I said as I glanced up at the statue. It didn’t move again. “Hello?” I called again as I thought seriously about turning back. Yeah, that would be the responsible thing to do with this storm blowing up. Then I heard that old familiar sigh, the one I used to hear inside Seven Sisters when Calpurnia was still lost and the ghost of Isla Beaumont threatened anyone who came near the place. But Isla was at peace now, with her David, and Calpurnia had left Seven Sisters with Muncie. I knew their story, or at least part of it.
Who was sighing in here?
I called out one last time, a bit more quietly now just in case someone answered me. “Is anyone out there?” A cluster of camellias shook in front of me, sending white flowers tumbling on the pathway. My hair rose again, and I took a tentative step back. And what am I going to do if there are intruders in the garden? Swear at them? I’d better go back. Maybe Henri wouldn’t mind coming to check this out. Just as I decided to take the grown-up course of action, a voice called back.
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