Be Still, My Love

by Deborah J. Hughes

  Kade gave her a conspiratorial wink and then gently ushered me out the door. As we walked across the parking lot, Kade leaned down to talk quietly in my ear, that small act sending shivers down my spine. “Modesta really doesn’t like you anymore, does she?” He led me to a blue Honda Civic and opened the door for me. I hadn’t had that courtesy done for me in years. Mike used to do it when we were dating but as time went on the courtesy sort of went away. I wondered if that is how it would be for Kade as well and then berated myself for thinking of us in the long term.

  It was an odd feeling to be riding in a car with Kade. I felt like I was part of a couple again and wondered if he felt that way as well? Where was this acquaintance of ours headed? We’d shared kisses … moments … surely that meant something. I did not kiss on a casual basis and I was pretty sure that Kade did not either. I was attracted to him, drawn to him, and I felt like I’d known him forever. So what did this mean? He lived in Maine, I lived in New York. How was this going to work? I felt we were close to solving the mystery of Abigail and Nathan. I had just over two weeks left of my vacation. Once we got this ghost business behind us, would we then explore our growing relationship? The prospect was both exciting and frightening.

  “You look like you are thinking about something far more serious than you need to be thinking right now.” Kade glanced at me and then back at the winding, hilly road that followed along the coastline and gave great views of the ocean.

  “I’m a serious person.”

  “So am I. But let’s not get our hopes too high on this little outing. We might not find Irene Potter and if we do, that doesn’t mean she’s going to be able to tell us anything.”

  “My heart is fluttering. It always does that when I’m about to learn something important. We’re going to find her, Kade, and she is going to tell us something useful.” I was sure of it.

  Kade shot me another glance, one of his dark brows quirked up in surprise. “So you don’t only talk to the dead, you are also a psychic?”

  “I’m sensitive to the vibrational energy around me. I know that when I feel like things are speeding up into an excited state that something important is going to happen. You can’t tell me that you haven’t felt the same thing?” He was a painter. He created. Creative energy was channeled from what I called the universal consciousness. A person had to be sensitive and open to be able to do that.

  He nodded. “Guess I have. I’m feeling pretty sure as well that we’re going to find Irene.” He glanced at me then, his dark eyes meeting mine with a trace of humor. I think he was finding our quest somewhat amusing for all its seriousness. “I guess I’m worried that our hunches will be wrong and we’ll suffer a terrible disappointment.”

  “It’s too good a day to suffer a terrible disappointment.” And it was. It was a glorious day. The sun was bright, the day warm, the colors vibrant. I was riding in a nice car with a handsome man on a very scenic road. Life at this moment was pretty good.

  Bar Harbor was a picturesque town located along a harbor dotted with buoys, boats and small islands. It was everything one would expect from a New England coastal town geared toward the tourist industry. Unique shops lined the streets offering anything a tourist could want or expect in such a place: sea shells, t-shirts, colorful buoys, miniature lobster traps. What did people do with all that rather useless stuff? Which, come to think of it, I was going to need myself. Before leaving for home, I was going to have to get gifts to take back to my friends.

  Kade pulled into a small gas station. “Best to ask rather than ride around these small crowded streets.” He wasn’t even in there five minutes before he returned.

  “It’s up this street, turn right at the light and second business on the left.” Kade backed out of the parking spot then waited for the busy traffic to clear. “We’re in luck. The laundry is now run by her oldest daughter. She and Irene live in an apartment above the laundry. Irene is retired but she is usually there talking to customers. She’s in her eighties now but she’s pretty spry for her age.”

  “They told you all that?”

  Kade turned to flash me a grin as if he too found it rather amusing. “Would have said more if I hadn’t backed out the door.” He saw a break in the slow moving traffic and quickly pulled out into the steady flow. “These small New England towns are a pretty tight knit group. Most everyone that’s lived here any amount of time knows everyone else that’s lived here any amount of time.” A few minutes later he nodded in satisfaction. “There it is and if I’m going to make a guess, and I am, that woman standing there in the doorway talking to that customer is Irene Potter herself.”

  A little old lady, bent over a cane, her back hunched with a bad case of osteoporosis, was standing just inside the door talking to a young woman holding several dry-cleaned garments and looking like she wanted to get going but didn’t want to be rude. When Kade and I stepped out of the car, the younger woman gave us a grateful smile and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  “Looks like you have some new customers, Irene. See you soon.” She nodded and smiled at us as she rushed to her parked car.

  Kade walked up to Irene and offered his hand. “Hi, my name is Kade Sinclair and this is Tess Schafer. We were wondering if you are the Irene Potter that used to work for Mr. Quartermaine? If so, we’ve come to chat with you about Sea Willow Haven if it’s okay? I don’t think it was called that though when you worked there.”

  He did not beat around the bush, Kade didn’t. I was somewhat exasperated by his directness but Irene didn’t share the sentiment.

  Her faded blue eyes squinted through thick glasses as she looked Kade up and down, nodded approvingly and then gave me the same sharp regard. I must also have passed muster for she nodded again and waved for us to enter the shop. “That would be me. Let’s go then and have a seat and we’ll talk all you want. When I worked at Sea Willow Resort it was simply called the Quartermaine House.” She moved rather well for someone relying heavily on a cane.

  Irene led us into a small sitting room at the back of the laundry. A woman who looked to be around Nancy’s age came around the counter and started toward us but Irene waved her off. “Don’t worry about it, Ginny. These people are here to see me. They want to talk about the Quartermaine House.” Ginny looked too busy to argue though she did cast us a curious look as she returned to whatever paperwork she had been working on when we walked in. Irene waved her bony hand in Ginny’s direction. “My oldest daughter. The only one of my four children willing to work. They’ll all expect me to leave them part of the business, but they are going to suffer a rude awakening when my will is read, I’ll tell you that.” She sat down in a worn rocking chair and motioned for us to sit wherever we’d like. I chose the armchair next to her and Kade sat in a similar chair across from her. She settled herself and closed her eyes for a moment to gather her energy then she looked at Kade. “So young man, tell me what brings you here to talk to me.”

  I was curious why she had focused on Kade rather than myself then realized it was probably because he had such a strong air of authority.

  “We were wondering if you could tell us about Abigail and Nathan.”

  Irene nodded as if she was expecting as much and continued to nod for quite some time. “What exactly do you want to know? Are you a reporter?”

  “We are staying at the resort right now and have heard about their tragic story and became interested to know more.”

  “Why?” She knew there was more to his explanation and I had to hide a smile. It was going to be interesting watching Kade handle the conversation.

  “Have you heard about the ghost stories, Irene?”

  I lifted a brow in surprise. He was going to be straight up about this. Interesting maneuver.

  Irene gave a satisfied smile. “I thought as much. The ghost stories only started up about, oh I’d say ten years ago or so. Abigail and Nathan have been dead for over forty years. Wonder what took them so long to get things started?” She glanced from Kade to m
yself and back at Kade. “Have you heard them? The ghosts?”

  Not wanting to be left out of the conversation, I spoke up first. “Yes.” Kade wasn’t the only one who could be short and direct.

  Her eyes widened in curiosity. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

  “Depends on what you tell us first,” I told her. I didn’t want to get roped into a conversation where we were doing all the talking and not getting the information we’d come here to get.

  Irene turned back to Kade. “Fair enough. What do you want me to tell you?”

  “Anything you care to share with us.” Kade smiled at her gently and settled back in his chair. He did not want to hurry her. He wanted her to relax and start talking. She did.

  “Well, I remember Abigail to be a very pretty young lady. She was really quiet and shy. Her father kept a strict eye on her. When they came to town, she didn’t talk to anyone other than to exchange the usual pleasantries. I never saw her come to town on her own or with anyone but Mr. Quartermaine. He was quite strict with her. I think he was just overprotective.” Irene paused to catch her breath for her voice had grown weaker as her dialogue had gone on. After a few moments she started talking again. “Nathan was a local and everyone knew him. His mother was a wicked good cook and had a nice little café right near the wharf. When I went to the Quartermaine House to do the laundry, I always stopped there to have breakfast. Nathan was a smart boy, always reading he was. He had big plans for his future and you know, I think he would have accomplished those dreams had he lived. He was a handsome boy and a perfect match for Abigail. I can see why they were attracted to each other. The rumors were flying that the pair were seeing each other but they were very discreet. No one ever saw them together.” Again she paused, only now she shook her head sadly. “It was a crying shame when that boy’s body was discovered washed up on shore. His mama was devastated. She closed her café soon after that and she and Bob, Nathan’s father, moved away. Don’t know where they went.”

  “What was the town saying about his death?” Kade asked.

  Irene frowned, her mind obviously cast back to the past. “We couldn’t understand how he would have crashed his boat. He knew the area very well. His daddy was a fisherman. Nathan practically grew up in the water. I just don’t see how he could have steered the boat into the rocks. But what else could have happened? He had no enemies. Mr. Quartermaine didn’t want him with his daughter but I will tell you in case you are thinking it … Mr. Quartermaine did not kill that boy.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting it,” Kade told her. “So Abigail’s death a few days later … did it raise any suspicions in the town?”

  Irene shook her head. “Oh no, it was kind of expected really. That shy young girl losing her love like that. Maggie, Mr. Quartermaine’s housekeeper and a good acquaintance of mine, told me that Abigail wouldn’t stop crying. Mr. Quartermaine was beside himself with worry and when Abigail died, he went a little crazy. As Maggie told it, he smashed up a lot of things in the house. Then he just up and left. Told Maggie to get rid of everything and then a few days later he put the house on the market.”

  “Maggie didn’t say that Abigail looked afraid in any way?” Kade asked.

  Irene’s eyes widened. “Afraid? Of what?”

  I leaned forward and gently patted Irene’s arm to get her attention. “It seems to us that Abigail’s ghost is a little frightened and we were wondering about that.”

  “Imagine that, a frightened ghost. Thought they were the scary ones?” Irene laughed and then coughed and we waited patiently while she got herself back under control. “Abigail was grief stricken. She never left that room until she jumped from it.”

  “None of the other employees ever said anything about the incident that you found odd or interesting?” I asked.

  Irene gave that some thought. “When Mr. Quartermaine went away on business trips, he always had his daughter closely watched by everyone in his employ. She was quite protected and yet still she managed to carry on a secret affair with Nathan. We sometimes wondered if anyone in the house was helping her get away to see him. How else could she have done it? The only one who may have done such a thing, though, would have been Carter. I think he was half in love with the girl, as were a few of the other boys around that age who worked there.”

  “What other boys?” Here maybe was a clue.

  Irene shrugged as if it was of little matter. “Oh the boys that helped with the gardening. A couple others were working on the fountain as I remember it … Mr. Quartermaine had it built for his daughter.”

  “Mr. Quartermaine built the dolphin fountain in the back yard?” I didn’t really think it was relevant, but I thought it merited some of my attention.

  Irene nodded. “Oh sure. Abigail’s room faced the back yard and he wanted her to see it whenever she looked out her window.” She waved a bony hand dismissively. “As I was saying about Carter, he was pretty smitten with her but he was a little on the wild side he was. Just way too much for sweet Abby. Besides, Mr. Quartermaine kept him pretty busy when he was in residence and I don’t think he would have had the nerve to do anything behind his boss’s back that he knew would upset him.”

  My heart was jumping about with excitement but I wasn’t sure what it was I was responding to. Did the fact that Carter loved her play any part in the events that unfolded? Where, I wondered, was he now? Was he still alive? The adrenaline zipping through my veins told me that we were on the right track. Carter was an important piece of the whole mystery. Now to find him. “Do you remember any of the other boys that worked there? Are any of them still around?”

  Irene frowned, obviously thinking hard, or trying to. “I remember seeing a couple other boys doing work out around the grounds or in the house but I don’t know who they were. A couple of them were regulars I think but I wasn’t interested in what was going on outside the house so I didn’t really pay any attention.”

  “Did you know that George worked there for a while, Irene?” I asked.

  Irene’s face scrunched up as if the name sounded familiar but she couldn’t quite place it. “George … hmmm … George who?”

  “George Davis, he’s now the chef at the resort but he mentioned that he worked for Mr. Quartermaine for a short while,” Kade explained.

  Irene’s face cleared. “Oh, yes, George!” She shook her head, her lips pressed sternly. “He was a bit of a hothead back then and Mr. Quartermaine didn’t like him. He only hired him because of Carter.”

  I leaned forward. “What do you mean he hired him because of Carter?”

  “Well, they was brothers. Moved to the area about the same time Mr. Quartermaine bought the house. I think George’s daddy was a business associate of Mr. Quartermaine’s. I know Maggie, the housekeeper, told me once that Mr. Quartermaine would have fired George right from the beginning but out of respect for his daddy, he kept him longer than he otherwise would have.”

  Kade and I looked at each other, our eyes wide with surprise. Why hadn’t George told us that Carter was his brother? A shiver raced through me and I found myself wanting to move closer to Kade. He made me feel safe and right about now, I didn’t feel all that safe. Though why I felt that way I couldn’t even begin to explain. It was a constant annoyance to feel things and not understand them.

  “Do you know if George was friendly with Abigail at all?” I asked.

  Irene shook her head quite emphatically. “Oh no, I really don’t think so. George stayed outside working on the grounds the short time he worked there, and besides, Carter was in love with her and that would have caused all kinds of problems don’t you think?”

  “Yes, indeed,” I murmured, thinking hard. If we went back and confronted George about being Carter’s brother, would he come clean and tell us why he omitted such an important fact?

  “There’s no one else you can think of that might be important?” Kade asked.

  Irene arched a white brow. “Young man, everyone is important but I can’t think of them
all.”

  I had to hide my smile. This little woman was full of vinegar. At least that is what my grandmother would have said. “We won’t keep you any longer, Irene. You’ve been very helpful.”

  Kade stood, walked over to Irene and bent to take her hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank you so much for talking to us, Irene. You’ve been very helpful.”

  Irene frowned in disappointment as she glanced from Kade to me. “But, I thought you were going to tell me what’s going on over at the resort.”

  “We heard ghost rumors just like you but haven’t really experienced anything other than we thought we heard someone call for help out on the shore,” Kade told her in a there’s-not-much-to-tell sort of voice. “Tess and I started reading about the resort history and we became very interested in the story of Abigail and Nathan and thought we’d do some sleuthing and figure out why Nathan is still calling for help down on the shore.”

  Irene’s lined face fell in disappointment. “So that’s it?”

  I felt sort of sorry for the lady and started to tell her a little more but Kade put an arm across my shoulders startling me and I looked up at him in surprise. “That’s it,” He told Irene. “If we figure out why Nathan is haunting the resort shores, we’ll be sure to let you know.” Kade leaned down and kissed Irene’s wrinkled cheek. “It’s been a pleasure talking to you.”

  I smiled my thanks because that was all I had time to do before Kade ushered me out of the room.

  Once we were in the car and on our way back to the resort, I turned to him and waited for an explanation on why he hurried us away so fast. Kade glanced at me and then turned back to the road.

  “I knew you were going to start telling her more than Nancy or Jack would want us to say so I figured it best that we leave.” He glanced at me again, his eyes somber. “I think we got what we went there to get anyway. I think Carter had something to do with the story. I just don’t know in what capacity. And I’m very interested to know why George didn’t mention the fact that Carter was his brother.”