“Ashland,” I said as I poked my head in the door, “we’ll have to chat later. I have to get dressed. Did you know we were having a party today?”
He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “No, but I miss a lot, I think.” He looked kind of sad. “Should I go change?”
“Of course not, Ash. You look like a million bucks. But I have to put something else on, for sure. Keep an eye on our wild son while I get dressed?”
“Sure can. Come here, AJ.” He reached down and picked up AJ, and the two of them planted kisses on me. “You still need to talk?”
“Yes, but after this shindig.”
“Are they back?” he whispered in my ear.
“Who, babe?” I pretended I didn’t know who he was talking about, but it wasn’t like doing that would protect him from them.
“The ghosts.” The helpless expression on his face broke my heart, but I couldn’t lie to him.
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“I can’t see them anymore,” he confessed as AJ wriggled out of his arms. By the tone of his voice, I knew that he wished it weren’t so. Funny how that had turned around for him. When we first met, he hated seeing ghosts. It had been his secret power, a power he didn’t want. But then he met me, and I was equally weird with my dream catching and everything changed.
“Hey, this is Seven Sisters, Ashland Stuart. It’ll come back to you. Give it time. I’ll be right back,” I said as I kissed him again.
“Okay,” he said, his blue eyes still sad. I hurried upstairs for, what, the fourth time today? What did one wear to a baby’s photo shoot? Chloe still wailed from Detra Ann and Henri’s room. “Good for her,” I said to no one in particular. As I approached my bedroom, the door slammed shut. It slammed so hard I was surprised no one poked their head out or checked on me. There were no open windows on this level as far as I knew and no reason for that door to close like that.
If I had hackles, they’d be rising.
Once upon a time, our room had been Christine Cottonwood’s bedroom and then later Jacinta Delarosa’s. Who knew what I would find behind the door if I decided to investigate? And of course I would. I had to get dressed, and I couldn’t avoid going into my own bedroom forever. Unlike this morning, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was about to step into a dream. Someone was inviting me to dream walk. But who? With a pounding heart and sweaty palms, I reached for the doorknob. The sounds of Chloe’s crying faded away as I slowly opened the door.
Chapter Five—Lafonda
“My name is Philip Beaumont. May I ask yours, or should I just call you Enchantress of the Garden?” The muted light of his lamp played up his attractive features, and his deep voice was soft and playful. I reminded myself not to gawk and tugged my linen wrap tighter around my now-shivering shoulders. It would not be prudent to trust a stranger, even one with a handsome face and a pleasant voice.
“I prefer to be called by my given name, Lafonda Delarosa. May I ask who you are and what you are doing here in my garden, sir? Does my father know you are here?”
He looked around the hedge maze, still holding up his lantern to cast more light between us. He pondered my question thoughtfully. I worried about whether we were alone in my garden. What if there were more interlopers, criminal compatriots lurking around the hedges? That would put me in a dangerous position. Perhaps relying on my first instinct had not been the right idea after all. That thought so alarmed me that I instinctually took a step back. I cast a nervous eye around me but could see no one else.
And nobody knew I was out here!
“I am sorry I interrupted your walk, Miss Delarosa. I did not think anyone would be out here, least of all a young lady. Excuse me.” He stepped away from me as if he would go deeper into the maze. Where had he come from? The back entrance?
“Wait, Mr. Beaumont,” I said to his back. What am I doing? I do not know this man. “I do not know where you are from, but it is not mannerly to go searching around on other people’s property without first obtaining their permission. Can you explain to me why you are here?” My sense of danger quickly faded. Surely, someone with such a handsome face couldn’t be bad. No, that’s not right. Max had an exquisite face, and he was all bad down to his bones. I shivered at that unwanted remembrance.
“You are right, of course. This is not my property anymore. I should have inquired at the house, at Seven Sisters, before taking my liberty. I came to look for something my family lost a long time ago, but…I did not expect to find it.” He shrugged his shoulders. If Philip Beaumont really meant that, he would not have been discovered prowling around the Moonlight Garden in the middle of the night.
Beaumont…where have I heard that name before?
“Did Seven Sisters belong to your family? Are you a relative of the Cottonwoods?” I stepped closer to him. Yes, he did seem somewhat familiar. When we first moved here, I regularly haunted the attic. There was a large collection of oil paintings hidden in the dusty corners. Mama insisted we put them all away, even the one of Calpurnia in her coral-colored dress. Was that where I had seen this face before? That could not be correct; the pictures were too old, and he was too young. Philip Beaumont could not be more than thirty-five years old.
He scowled a little in the dim light and said, “I am no Cottonwood, Miss Delarosa. My aunt, Christine Beaumont Cottonwood, once called this place home before she passed away when I was young. Calpurnia Cottonwood, her daughter, was my cousin. I never really knew her. She has been gone from here a very long time, and I would be surprised if you had heard of her.” My eyes widened at hearing their names spoken so freely. When we first arrived at Seven Sisters, I had been so hungry to hear more about the elegant ladies, for I had seen their portraits and once found Christine’s book of poetry in the Rose Garden. And here was Calpurnia and Christine’s relative in my garden. Curious now, I stepped even closer, and he lowered his lamp.
“Is that why you are here, Mr. Beaumont? Are you searching for Calpurnia?” We stood together in silence for a moment, his face the picture of sadness.
He did not answer my question but asked, “How do you like Seven Sisters? Have you seen any ghosts? I ask only because Seven Sisters has never been a happy place for young ladies.”
I replied defensively, “We are very happy, Mr. Beaumont. My brother, Jonatan, has just married, and he and his wife are expecting their first child.” I forced a smile and repeated stupidly, “We are very happy indeed.” I was not happy at all, and I did not understand why I should lie about it to Philip Beaumont, but I did.
“Forgive me, ma’am. I did not mean to frighten you or speak out of turn. I think perhaps I should go now. I have disturbed your peace for too long.”
My mouth felt dry and I was tired, but I remembered my manners. “I am sure my father would not mind if you walked the maze, but you should ask his permission first, sir. I am certain he would be very interested in meeting you, Mr. Beaumont.”
“I shall do that, Miss Delarosa.”
Without another word, Philip Beaumont disappeared into the dark foliage and I raced home. I barely slept a wink that night; I stayed up thinking about our conversation, the mysteriousness of it all. When I did sleep, he haunted my dreams.
“Lafonda! Are you listening to me?” My mother was in an ill mood today. She swatted my arm to get my attention, but it was not painful. “I said your brother will be coming home soon. I think it would be a good idea for you to move to the smaller room on the other side of the hall. Jonatan and Memphis will need the extra space for the baby when they return.” Mama poured tea into a pale pink china teacup and spoke patiently and calmly, as if she were telling me about some new fashion. Although I didn’t care for the view from my window and frequently complained about the heat at the front of the house, Mama’s willingness to relocate me just to accommodate Memphis Overstreet turned my stomach. I couldn’t help but feel that Memphis had stolen my brother from me; I considered her crafty and cunning, and what friendship we may have had was now nul
l and void. This was not a very mature attitude, but there was no denying my feelings.
“No. I am not moving. Why should I?”
“Do not take that tone with me, young lady. This is not a request. You will do as you are told until you are told differently. Can’t you just be happy for Jonatan? Such jealousy is not very sisterly, Lafonda. One day, your father and I will make arrangements for you too.”
I flinched at her words. “No, thank you. I would rather die an old spinster than have your kind of help, Mama. Look how poorly that went the last time. A man died. His name was Max Davenport.” I did not expect those words to come out of my mouth, but they did.
“Do not speak that name to me!” Her cup clinked in the saucer so hard that I thought perhaps she broke it. “Lafonda, you are behaving like an ungrateful brat. Jonatan could not stay here as your pet forever. He is married, and the sooner you understand that, the happier we will all be. Stop your pouting and pack your things. You will move to the empty room!”
My blood was boiling, and I clenched my fists. I’d never spoken in such a way to my Mama, but once the lid had been pulled off the pot, the steam was bound to come out. “I do not want to keep Jonatan as a pet. That is not true! Why don’t you look to your own husband, Mama, and leave me be?” My heart was pounding, but not in fear—it was anger I felt, a pent-up rage that threatened to upturn the tentative peace in the Delarosa home.
She rose to her feet, her hands also clenched into fists now. Would we come to blows? I was not backing down today. Not ever again. “I will speak to your father about this, impertinent girl. Go to your room, Lafonda.”
“No.”
Still unmoving, she gripped the back of the chair, and I could see her knuckles turning white. “You will go to your room or I will drag you there by the hair of your head.” Mama’s face reddened as she bore holes in me with her dark eyes.
Lettie burst into the parlor and said, “Come quickly, ma’am. Your daughter-in-law is here! Memphis is here!”
We had no time to follow her, for Papa entered the parlor cradling Memphis in his arms, his face serious and troubled. “What has happened?” Mama asked, touching Memphis’ cheek. The young woman’s head bobbed up and down on my father’s chest. Clearly, she was unconscious; her skin was pale, and her dark brown hair was plastered to her face as if she had run through a rainstorm, yet there’d been no rain today. “She feels fevered. We have to get her upstairs, Nobel.”
With her handkerchief, Mama patted Memphis’ face as Papa carried her up to Jonatan’s room. As we hurried across the landing, my sister-in-law’s eyes sprang open and she immediately began talking gibberish. I couldn’t make it out at first, but she said my brother’s name repeatedly.
“Jonatan! What has happened to Jonatan?” Mama demanded as she patted Memphis’ hand. Memphis fell unconscious again. I do not think anyone else noticed, but I could see blood on her skirt; with her obviously swollen belly, I worried that she might be in danger of losing the baby. Papa quickly deposited Memphis on Jonatan’s bed while Mama and Lettie began working on getting her undressed. “I will send for the doctor, and then I will go find our son,” Papa announced.
“Go at once, Nobel. Find Jonatan! He could be on the road dead!” Mama began to weep as she sank into the chair beside the bed.
“Please let me go with you, Papa. I can help look.” I grabbed his arm pleadingly.
Before he could speak, Memphis screamed, suddenly awake again, “He is gone. My Jonatan! They took him away. Took him away!”
“Who took him?” Papa demanded as he pushed me aside and leaned over her face. He held her hand, his face stern and worried. “Memphis, tell us. What happened?”
“Barnum, the sheriff’s man. Arrested him for murder.”
My face paled at hearing those words. Jonatan was being charged with Max’s murder.
Mama screeched, “That is not possible! How could they believe such a thing? Nobel?”
Without another word, Papa stormed out of the room, no doubt headed to argue for Jonatan’s release. I didn’t know which way to go—follow Papa and demand to go with him or stay behind and help care for Memphis. Perhaps I should pray?
“Lafonda, remove her shoes and stockings. Oh no, there is blood. No, it will be all right, Memphis. You are home—you are at Seven Sisters now.”
Memphis glared at her with fevered eyes. “You did this, you wicked woman! You did this—tell them! Tell them the truth! I know you did it! Why? Why did you do it?” Lettie froze as Memphis struggled with her. Exhausted, Memphis fell back on the pillow. “You’ll kill him. You will kill him!”
What is she talking about?
Mama did not flinch at the accusation. “Lafonda, leave us. This baby could be coming any minute, and a birthing room is no place for an inexperienced girl. Go wait for the doctor downstairs. Send him up as soon as he arrives.” She glanced at Lettie, who ushered me out of the room with a sad smile and locked the door behind me.
I stood outside the closed door for a few minutes, but Memphis did not speak again, at least not loudly enough for me to hear her. I did not need to hear more. I knew what she meant. I knew what she was talking about.
Mama murdered Max Davenport. Murdered him in the very bed where Memphis now lay!
I walked down the stairs slowly, clutching my stomach. My high heels clunked on the wood like dead things. What would happen to my brother now? I sobbed as I thought about it. My own mother, a murderer! Surely that couldn’t be true. Poor Jonatan!
Amy, the youngest of our house servants, came toward me. Her face was perpetually pale, and now she appeared practically bloodless. “Miss Lafonda, you have a caller. Should I send him away?”
I wiped the tears away and couldn’t hide my surprise. “A caller? Who is it?”
“Mr. Philip Beaumont. I showed him into the Blue Room, but I can send him away seeing how…”
“Thank you, Amy. I will see him.” I touched her arm and whispered, “When the doctor arrives, please come find me.”
“Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am.”
I walked through Seven Sisters to the Blue Room wondering how much Philip Beaumont had heard during his unexpected visit. With Memphis’ muffled screams coming from upstairs, he must have thought a murder was occurring.
And to think, I told him we were happy.
Chapter Six—Carrie Jo
After Baby Chloe’s party, Ashland surprised me with a muffaletta from the new delicatessen on Government Street. It smelled delicious, and my stomach rumbled as he unpacked our meal at the bar in the kitchen. The after party didn’t seem like it would end anytime soon, and the finger food wasn’t cutting it since I’d missed breakfast this morning.
“Hey, y’all. We’re going over to Mrs. Dowd’s for a little while. I’ll clean up the rest of the party mess when we get back if that’s okay,” Henri said apologetically.
“We can clean that up, Henri. No problem at all. You sure you wouldn’t like for Chloe to stay with us? She sounds beyond tired.”
“I would love that, but Mrs. Dowd has invited some of her relatives over to meet our daughter. I’m hoping she passes out when she gets in the car. Chloe, that is, not my mother-in-law.”
I chuckled at the idea. “You’ve got enough going on, Henri. Don’t worry about the cleanup.”
“You guys sure it’s okay? I did pick up some of it.” He lingered in the doorway of the kitchen. I could hear Detra Ann calling him, and thankfully, the snarky photographer was saying her loud goodbyes.
With a smile, I said, “It’s no bother. We’re about to stuff ourselves with this giant sandwich, and then we’ll finish cleaning up. Y’all have fun.”
He waved good-naturedly, and the noisy house went quiet after a few minutes. It had been wonderful having the Devecheaux family here, especially while Ash was recovering, but I had to admit it would be nice to be alone sometimes. Living with people was challenging no matter how much you loved them.
“You were about to tell me s
omething just before the party,” Ashland began as he unwrapped the sandwich.
I poured us both a glass of tea and said, with a quick glance in Baby Boy’s direction, “What about Baby Chloe in that wig?” I didn’t want to talk about any of this in front of our son. In the Blue Room, he’d been distracted by the television. Ashland caught on quickly and smiled at AJ.
“Sometimes I wonder about Detra Ann, but honestly, it could have been worse. Much worse. Did I ever tell you about the time she…”
“Mommy,” AJ interrupted us. I assumed he was going to beg me to let him get up from the table. He was such a picky eater lately. I put his plate in front of him and refilled his cup with juice.
“Eat your food, AJ. Those chicken nuggets are going to get cold if you don’t.” He took a tentative bite, and I smiled. I missed these quiet moments.
“Mommy, I don’t like that doggy,” he said with a mouthful of chicken nugget, pointing a chubby finger at the window over the kitchen sink.
“What, baby?” That surprised me. I turned to look at what he could be talking about. A dog in the window? Like his dad, AJ had never met a person he didn’t like, even little Tina Mizell, the bully of the Small Steps 3k. And he certainly loved dogs, but we didn’t currently have one.
“That dog over there.” He pointed to the window again. “He looks at me all the time. I don’t like him.” I felt Ashland prickle beside me. Without waiting, he hopped up, checked the window and even went outside to see if there was actually someone out there.
“I don’t think a dog is big enough to look in the window unless it was Clifford the Big Red Dog. Is that who you saw, AJ? Was it a cartoon dog? Are you playing a trick on me?” I smiled at him to let him know it was okay if he was; I wouldn’t punish him if he admitted the truth. Or what I hoped was the truth.
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