Soon as the coffee was done perking, I made myself a cup and headed to the patio where I nestled down on the lounger and wrapped myself in a fleece throw blanket. It truly was a gorgeous night. There were a few clouds floating about and when they covered the moon, it was quite dark. But then they would pass on and reveal clear patches of sky dotted liberally with sparkling stars. I thought about the story I began earlier and the itch to write again made my fingers tingle. Without hesitation, I set my coffee cup down on the small end table next to my lounger and went to fetch my laptop. It wasn’t long before I was typing again, oblivious to the sounds around me.
The shoreline beckoned and Sarah answered its lure. She picked her way carefully over the slippery rocks and made a great pretense of looking for shells. Someone from the house was sure to be watching her every move and she hoped to look absorbed enough in her shell-finding activity to get them to relax their vigil. Slowly she made her way toward the peninsula’s point, her heart pounding with excitement that she might actually make it this time. It was her goal to get around that point to the other side. Most times she was called back to the house before she even made it half way. This time, though, she was close to the end of the peninsula’s tip. Rising steadily to a height of about ten feet, the peninsula’s point prevented her from seeing the shore on the other side of it. Heart pounding with excitement, she bent down low as if she’d found something on the ground of particular interest while all the while sending covert glances toward the house. Although the tide was out, she stayed close to the peninsula’s solid rock banking. Scraggly trees, looking twisted and deformed, covered the peninsula’s narrow surface. Sarah glanced up at them, wondering what they thought of her progress so far. They often looked as if they were observing her efforts, those silent decrepit sentinels on high. A couple more steps and she would be out of the sight of watchful eyes and had yet to hear a voice calling her back. Feeling triumphant, Sarah smiled to herself and then drew up short when she saw him.
The boy she’d seen the day before was just a few short feet away from her. He was lounging on a large boulder eating a sandwich and looking at her curiously, his light blue eyes lit with appreciation. Sarah’s pounding heart beat even harder. Up close, she could see that he was terribly handsome and she found herself struck dumb with shyness.
“Hey, I’m Peter.”
When he stood up, Sarah could see that he was taller than she was and she was quite tall for a girl. He was a bit on the skinny side but not in a scrawny way. He wore jeans that looked like he cut them himself to make into shorts and a pair of flip-flops. Nothing more. His brown hair was rather long and blew about his face in the slight breeze. Sarah realized that he was waiting for her to speak. She glanced over her shoulder to be sure her father wasn’t bearing down on her. He wasn’t. She turned back to the boy and held out a hand. “I’m Sarah.”
Peter grinned as he took her hand. “Nice to meet you, Sarah.”
Sarah thought she’d never held such a nice hand. Her skin was pale against his and his palms were rough. She had never been alone with anyone other than her father and the servants. It was the most exciting moment of her life.
I stopped typing and reflected on the forming story. Whose story was this? Where was it going? I stared at the LCD screen and waited for more words. None came, so I saved my work, closed the laptop, grabbed my cold cup of coffee and went inside for a fresh refill. This time when I stepped out to the patio, I allowed a glance toward the cottage next to mine. It was dark … no lights. Mr. Sinclair must still be up at the house. I sank down onto the lounger and stretched back, cradling the warm cup on my stomach. After enjoying a few sips of my coffee, I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds around me. The cool breeze was picking up in intensity and I stirred long enough to cover myself with the fleece throw blanket. Settled again and feeling lulled into peace, the voice, when it registered that I heard one, startled me. Then I felt a shiver tug at my mid-drift and I grew more alert. The cold crept through my skin like invisible syrup. Carefully, I set down my coffee and stood.
Another call of distress sounded clear above the racket the waves were making as the tide moved in. I looked out over the water and scanned the dark surface carefully. Was someone out there swimming? I gave a shiver at the coolness of the night and pulled the blanket about my shoulders. It wasn’t even close to being warm enough for swimming.
Without giving it much thought, I began to pick my way carefully toward the shore. Though the grass was short, the ground was uneven and there were a lot of small, protruding rocks. The shore in front of my cottage was also quite rocky though there were patches of sand. Using the meager moonlight as guidance (when did all those clouds roll in?), I walked as close to the water as I dared without getting my sneakers wet and again looked carefully about to be sure there was no one out there that required rescuing. Instinctively I knew there was no one … not physically.
Satisfied that no one was drowning or even lurking about, I started walking along the shore, my focus honed to pick up on any energy that may come from the Tri-State and the atmosphere around me. Though it was silly to be so, I found myself just a tiny bit nervous. Contact with those in the Tri-State never frightened me but they did make me jittery, especially when I was alone. I never knew what I was going to encounter and now that I didn’t have the protection of Sheila, I wondered what kind of experience I was in for.
As I neared a bend in the shoreline, a shivering coldness hit me swiftly, shocking the calm from my system. Panic raced through me though I did not feel it was my own. Surprised at the suddenness of it all, I stilled and tried to clear my mind. The Tri-State was definitely calling–for the first time in two years–and I hoped I was up for the contact.
The feeling of danger from behind me made the skin on my back crawl and the tiny hairs on my neck tingle. I swung around. Nothing. But I felt a presence and it wasn’t a nice one. The negative sensations had me worried. I did not want to attract negative energies to me and I knew this was possible due to the anger I’ve been clinging to over the past two years. I had, after all, turned my back on God and now I was out here trying to open myself to the Tri-State with nothing to protect me from harm. In the past, I never worried about being in danger because I believed in God’s protection. Now I worried. As I stood there trying to decide what to do while ignoring the shivers racing along my spine, I saw a shadow of a person loom up before me. Startled and quite frightened, I tried to scream but couldn’t get any sound to come out. The clouds moved out of the moon’s path at just that moment and gave me enough light to see I wasn’t staring at a ghost. Far from it. Kade Sinclair stopped in front of me.
“What are you doing out here, Tess?”
My heart pounding, I splayed a hand across my chest in an attempt to calm myself and gave Kade Sinclair an angry glare (a rather ineffective gesture since it was too dark for him to see it). “What am I doing out here? What are you doing out here?” Always best to go on the defensive when you didn’t want to answer a question.
He put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and turned slightly away from me, glancing around as he did so. “I thought I heard something … came to check it out.”
The cold within receded and now I was aware of the chill air. Feeling a little silly at being caught walking the beach wrapped in a blanket, I nevertheless was glad for its warmth and tugged it tighter about me. Without another word, we both turned and started walking back toward our cottages.
“What did you hear?” I couldn’t help but ask for I wondered if he, too, heard the distress call? At first I didn’t think he was going to answer me, but finally he did, after first lighting a cigarette which wasn’t easy to do in the wind.
“Not sure. Thought I heard someone call out.” He paused for another drag of his cigarette then glanced at me, studying my profile closely. “Did you hear it too?”
“Yes.” Why deny it?
“Suppose it’s the ghost everyone is talking about?”
&n
bsp; It was my turn to give a studious glance. “You believe in that stuff?”
He shrugged his shoulders, took another drag of his cigarette and tossed the butt into the wind. “Not sure. I can’t deny I heard something though.”
“How long have you been staying here?”
“Got here a week ago but I’ve been before.” We reached the path that led up to our cottages and we both carefully picked our way up the grassy slope toward the lawn.
“Have you ever encountered any ghostly situations before?”
“No.”
Interesting. Why now? We stopped at a point where we needed to go our separate ways. I looked back at the ocean, the small island looking black in the moonlight. “Maybe it was a seagull or something.”
“Maybe.”
He wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Feeling a bit awkward, I gestured toward my cottage. “Guess I better head in for the night.”
“Goodnight then.”
“Goodnight.” I walked away as he stood and watched, my back tingling with awareness as I did so. It was quite the struggle I had not to glance back at him. I finally allowed it only after entering my cottage and turning to close the blinds on the sliding glass doors. He was gone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I woke to the sound of someone whistling a merry tune I did not recognize but enjoyed nonetheless. I lay listening to it for a moment before rolling out of bed and padding to the kitchen. My coffee supplies were running low and I thought idly about finding a grocery store to stock up on a few things when the whistling grew louder and then stopped abruptly just outside my cottage. Glad I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt as night attire, though self-conscious about my bed head, I went to the patio doors and looked out. A man was standing at the edge of my patio, a long sickle in his hand. He looked to be in his early sixties and someone who worked outside most his life as his skin was quite dark and deeply wrinkled. He wore an old Red Sox ball cap but I could see some steel gray hair poking out along either side of it. He was tall, husky and weathered, as if he spent a great deal of time outside. He was wearing a pair of worn, faded jeans and a blue t-shirt that had seen better days. As if aware of my scrutiny, he glanced up, saw me and waved. When I waved back, his lined face softened into a friendly smile and his pale blue eyes widened in question. Obviously, he expected me to come outside and speak to him and I did so reluctantly (I wasn’t keen on talking to strangers after just crawling out of bed). “Good morning.”
The man set the sickle down and came across the patio, stopping a respectable distance from me and nodding his head in greeting. “Hey there, little lady. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, not really.”
“My name is Hank, Hank Williams … like the singer.” He laughed as if he thought that was quite amusing and I smiled in return.
“My name is Tess. It’s nice to meet you, Hank.”
Hank scratched the back of his head and gestured with his other hand at the weeds growing along the edge of my patio. “You don’t mind if I get these out of your way real quick do ya?”
“No, of course not.”
Hank flashed another smile. “I do most of the gardening and landscaping around here so you’ll probably see me about quite a bit. If you need anything done, just let me know. I also help with some maintenance on the buildings, so if your faucet is leaking or the toilet backs up, I’m the one who’ll probably come take care of it.”
“The grounds are quite lovely, Hank. I can’t get over how pretty it all is.”
Hank’s leathery face lit up with the compliment. “Why thank you, little lady. That’s wicked nice of you to say so.”
I was beginning to feel uncomfortable and figured it was because of my state of dress. I shifted a bit and gestured behind me. “I better get me some coffee and get cleaned up. It was nice to meet you, Hank.”
Hank picked up the sickle. “They are still serving breakfast up at the house. They fix a wicked good meal if you are hungry.” He began to whack at the weeds growing around the edges of my patio and gave me another wave and quick nod before devoting his full attention to his task.
I went inside, closed the door and pulled the shade. After making myself a cup of coffee, I headed for the bathroom to take a quick shower. Although I usually skipped breakfast, I found myself in the mood for one today and was intent on getting to the house before they stopped serving.
When I entered the dining room, Modesta was sitting at the table eating what was left of a plate of pancakes. She smiled and wiggled her fingers at me in greeting as I sat down next to her. “Good morning, Tess.”
The silver serving dishes set on the table were covered and I opened a couple of them to find scrambled eggs and home fries. I dished out a good helping of both and poured myself a cup of coffee. “It’s a nice day today.”
Modesta nodded. “Oh, sí, a very nice day. So, what are your plans today?”
“I have none.” Then remembering that I wanted to visit a local grocery, I hastily revised my answer. “Actually, I need to find a grocery store. Can you tell me where to find one?”
“Stop by the front desk on your way out and I will write you directions.” Modesta refilled her coffee cup. Her voice when she spoke was casual and did not match the intensity in her expression. “I see you walk to the beach last night. Do you hear something?”
I met Modesta’s dark gaze for a brief moment before refocusing on my food. “I just went for a short walk that’s all. Is that okay?” Maybe guests weren’t supposed to be out by the water after a certain time?
“Oh, sí. Is okay as long as you be careful.” She was quiet for a moment and then sighed in resignation, her next question telling me she decided to just go ahead and be blunt. “Maybe you hear the voice?”
I figured there was nothing for me to hide. “Yes.”
Modesta nodded as if she expected that answer all along. “Lately, we hear the sounds more and more.” She sipped her coffee and continued to watch me closely. “You are no frightened?”
“No. Should I be?”
Modesta gave a small frown. “I don’t know.”
Surprised with that answer, I looked up and saw something in Modesta’s face that made me want to pry. “Why do you say that?”
Modesta looked as if she were trying to decide whether or not she should say more when Nancy walked into the room. “Good morning, Tess. How was your first night in the cottage?”
“The bed was quite comfortable, and I slept very well thank you.”
Nancy sat across from me and poured herself some juice. She was wearing a white jogging outfit and her skin glowed with energy and perspiration. “I just got back from a jog. I try to go every morning but some days the weather won’t permit it.” She drank her apple juice and poured another glass. “Modesta said you went for a walk along the shore last night?”
Did anything take place here without someone knowing about it? “Yes, actually. As I was just telling Modesta, I thought I heard someone call out in distress.”
Nancy stilled. Visibly tense, she set her glass down on the table. “So, your first night and you hear our ghost already? I hope it didn’t frighten you.”
“No.” But it had actually. There was something kind of sinister about last night. The feeling on the beach had not been a good one. There was certainly more to the situation than a ghost looking for his lost love.
“Kade said he heard it too.” I figured I better tell her everything. Nancy sighed, rubbed at her forehead and sank back against her chair.
Since the two women at the table looked worried, I tried to change the subject. “I met Hank this morning. He seems like a likeable guy.”
Nancy nodded, though clearly occupied with her thoughts. “Hank worked for the Morgans for a while and applied for a position with us when we bought the place.” She glanced up, pulled a face. “I think he was a little upset when we hired Raymond for the summer. Until Ray started working here, Hank was kind of in charge of things but he’s taking his
reduced position quite well considering. He’s very knowledgeable about the area so if you want to know anything about Poke Harbor or the surrounding towns, just ask Hank.”
Modesta touched Nancy’s hand. “Tell her, Nancy. She will hear it anyway.”
Nancy frowned at Modesta. “I really don’t think–” She stopped, looked at me as if considering, and then leaned forward. “I wonder, Tess, since you said you had–” She stopped, obviously remembering her promise not to say anything about my special ability. “Yesterday when you checked in, you noticed I was upset … well … that couple I told you about–the maid and one of the groundskeepers? Hank’s assistant actually … well, they are seeing each other and they apparently met in the wine cellar for a little tryst. Anyway, they somehow were locked in there over night and got frightened.”
“Locked in? By whom?” An internal shiver raced through me and I knew it was a sign to pay special attention to the conversation.
Nancy gave a long sigh. “I just don’t know. They claim the ghost locked them in. Anyway, they quit yesterday morning after Jack found them and let them out.”
Modesta nodded gravely. “I try to convince them it is okay. I live here many years without a problem but they no listen to me.”
So that was why Nancy was manning the front desk yesterday. “Why do they think it was a ghost that locked them in the cellar?”
“Because they said they felt the chill of death.” Nancy laughed a bit as if she thought the description overly dramatic. “That was how Rena explained it when she told us about it. She said there was a chill of death in the cellar and then the door slammed shut.”
“Rena was the maid,” Modesta explained. “She work here only three months and then she flirt with Peter.”
Be Still, My Love Page 6