Passage (Soul of the Witch Book 1)

by C. Marie Bowen

  A heavyset woman, her gray and black hair pulled back in a tight bun, entered through the cased opening beside the stairs. She wore a brown dress and white bib apron.

  Behind her followed another woman, closer to Nichole's age, with light-brown hair, also pinned in a bun. The younger woman had on a dark blue skirt and white blouse. They moved into the dining room with a smile and a nod to Nichole and Jimmy Leigh.

  Moments later, Lloyd and Tom arrived through the same opening.

  Jason held Amy's hand as they walked toward the table.

  An older woman followed them, dressed in dove gray with a bib apron.

  Jason stopped at the end of the table and rested his hands on the back of the chair. “Please be seated, ladies. I have a couple of things I need to say.”

  Jimmy Leigh pulled a chair out for Nichole.

  The two women took seats across from her. Lloyd and Tom shuffled along the wall and stood at the end of the table. Amy remained standing beside Jason, and the woman in gray stayed near the stairs.

  The foreman paced away to the front window. He returned and leaned a shoulder against the stone fireplace.

  Jason cleared his throat and made sure he had everyone's attention. “On the ride to The Shilo yesterday, we encountered Merril on the road. As I stepped down to speak with him, a rattlesnake spooked the horses. Our rigged horse bolted, and Nichole was thrown to the ground when the carriage overturned.”

  A gasp of concern moved around the table, and Nichole’s face warmed as everyone looked at her.

  “Her injuries aren’t serious, thank goodness, the worst being a blow to her head. Doc Johnson treated her at The Shilo and stitched her forehead.” Jason paused and cast his gaze around the room. “However, because of this injury, she has a temporary condition Doc called dementia.”

  The room was quiet for a moment. The large woman across from Nichole spoke into the silence. “Dementia? What does that mean, Jason?”

  “It means Nichole has trouble remembering things. Doc assured us her condition is temporary and will resolve itself in a few days.”

  “How much do you remember, Nicki?” The young woman across the table asked.

  Nichole met the woman's gaze. “Not much. I get flashes of memory or feelings, but they don't make sense to me yet.”

  “I never heard of such a thing.” The large woman leaned over the table and looked Nichole in the face. “Are you sayin' you don't remember me?”

  Nichole shook her head. “I don't. I'm sorry. I don't remember any of you or this place.”

  Amy crossed behind Jason and approached Nichole. She crouched down beside Nichole's chair and took her hand. “My name is Amy,” she said. Her voice was as gentle and soft as her eyes. She smiled and threw a glance at the tall figure leaning against the wall. “I believe you've met Jimmy Leigh. He's our foreman, in charge of the ranch. He helped your father build The Highlands.”

  Amy indicated the young woman across the table. “This is Jeanne Miller. She traveled with you and your mother from Boston. Jeanne takes care of your clothing and helps with your hair. Beside her is Cookie. She’s in charge of the kitchen. She cooks our meals and helps with the garden.”

  Cookie pressed her lips in sympathy. “I can't believe it. I knew something was wrong. But you’re a strong young woman. I know you'll be just fine.”

  Amy pointed past Jason to the woman who stood beside the stairs. “Back there is June McKay. She's the housekeeper and laundress for the ranch.

  “Over here are Lloyd and Tom Baker. They take care of the farm animals and maintain the tack and equipment.”

  Nichole heaved a worried sigh and looked at all the faces. “I'm going to have trouble with so many names. Let me apologize up-front for not remembering them all.”

  “Oh, now, don't be silly,” Jeanne said.

  “That's perfectly all right, dear,” Cookie reassured her.

  “No need to feel sorry, just get to feelin' better.” Lloyd chimed in from behind.

  When the well-wishes died down, Jason cleared his throat again to gain everyone's attention. “There’s more.” He looked down at the table, his tone grave. “I must impart this news with a heavy heart. Philip Shilo has passed away.”

  “What the hell happened? Phil and Kevin were here not two weeks ago,” Jimmy Leigh stood away from the wall and shook his head in disbelief.

  “I know,” Jason replied over his shoulder. “Doc Johnson called it apoplexy. It was sudden and unexpected. He'll be laid to rest in the morning.”

  “Kevin and Merril?” Jimmy Leigh took a step toward the table. “How are they taking Phil's death?”

  “As you’d expect. Their constant arguing serves as a proper distraction for them.” Jason turned back to those gathered around the table. “That’s why Nichole and I left The Shilo when we did—to let them figure out the issues of their father’s estate.”

  He paused, but the room remained silent. “I know this is a shock for everyone. I think it best we keep to our regular schedule. There's a lot to accomplish before Friday. If no one has any questions, you can return to your work. Cookie, what time is dinner?”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Cookie pushed herself from her chair. “It almost slipped my mind.” She turned and disappeared through the open archway. Lloyd, Tom, and Jeanne followed her out.

  Nichole watched Jimmy Leigh let himself out the front door as June crept up the stairs.

  Amy remained crouched beside her chair.

  Nichole gave Amy a grateful smile. “Thank you. I was ... overwhelmed.”

  Amy rose to her feet and patted Nichole's hand. “You are welcome.”

  “Amy should take you on a tour of the house before dinner. You'll be too busy afterward.” Jason walked past the table to the closed door. “I don't know what Jim is going to think about your new sensibilities, but as you said, that's on you.” He paused, hand on the doorknob and looked at Nichole. “I want you to tell Timothy Caine you've reconsidered your offer to let them stay.”

  Nichole released Amy's hand and rose from her chair to face Jason.

  He'd opened the door behind the table and stood in the doorway of an office.

  “I'm not worried about Jimmy Leigh, and it's too late to change my mind about the Caine family.”

  “Why can't I make you understand? It's not our place to care for those people.”

  Nichole rested her hands on her hips. “Oh, but I do care. I also care that people who work on this ranch were allowed to bully him with impunity. I care what happens to his wife and his baby. It bothers me that you don't care about those things.” Pain lanced across her brow, but she ignored the discomfort.

  “You don't realize the consequence of your actions, Nicki.” Jason's lips were tight and his face red.

  “You're right. I don't. But I know what the consequence of my inaction would be. I can't live with that.” Nichole turned and stalked past Amy and around the stairs. She stopped at the closed door in the parlor and pressed her hand against her brow. Understanding Jason's argument wasn’t the problem. The discord within herself confused her. The ache in her forehead now pounded. She rubbed her brow as she turned the knob and opened the door.

  Chapter 16

  Nichole Harris

  Nichole gaped at the room, her limp hand remaining on the doorknob. A potted ivy hung from the ceiling near the window, and a variety of live plants were arranged around the space. The east-facing glass was open and allowed both the cool breeze and the late afternoon light inside. Tall clouds rose in the distance, their high tops puffy and white against the dark blue sky. The shadow of the house was long on the grassy side yard. The room smelled of freshly watered plants and wild roses. On the far side of the area sat a baby grand piano.

  “How beautiful,” she whispered as she stepped inside.

  Amy entered behind her and crossed to the window. She looked out at the thunderheads. “The storms will stay east of us tonight. Can you smell the rain?”

  “I smell roses,” Nichole re
plied. Her hand trailed along the stitching on the settee cushion. “Someone spent a lot of time on these.”

  Amy turned from the window. “Quincy ordered the settee and chairs for your mother. Jason says she would have loved them. This was to be her special space. She played the piano beautifully, as do you.”

  Amy moved to the mantel and struck a long match, and then lit two lamps that sat on the shelf. “Let me light the room so you can see it properly.” She crossed the room, her hand shielding the flame, and lit the glass lamp set on top of the piano. The lamps were works of art, with delicately etched flowers on red glass.

  She blew out the match and then turned to Nichole. “I want to be honest. I didn’t know what to think when I received the note from Jason yesterday. He said you asked about me. I was astonished. We were never close, you and I.”

  “Honesty, then?” Nichole rested her hand on the back of the couch and studied Amy. “This memory thing I have going, it's weird. I don't remember people, per se, but if someone evoked a strong emotion in me before the accident, I still feel that emotion.”

  Amy's brow furrowed at Nichole. “What do you mean?”

  “I must have been very jealous of you and your relationship with Jason. I struggled with that sentiment when I first saw you. It's a child's reaction, fearful of loss and change.” She paused and searched for the words to express herself. “I don't want to believe I was the type of person who would act on such petty feelings, but if I was, then I likely owe you an apology.”

  Amy opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again, her dark eyes wide as she stared at Nichole. “I'm quite speechless,” she whispered. “I didn't anticipate this.” Her fingers twined together in front of her skirt as she turned away. When she looked back, her eyes were filled with sincerity. “I always imagined you felt this was your place, your home, that Jason was your dearest friend, and I was—unexpected.”

  “You're very kind, Amy. It was selfish of me, but I appreciate your empathy.” Nichole turned and examined the photos on the mantel. “Besides, unexpected things may be a blessing in disguise. Is this my family?”

  “Yes, from when you lived in Boston.” Amy crossed the room to stand beside Nichole.

  “Should I know these people?”

  “Most of them.”

  Nichole searched the faces but recognized no one. With a sigh of annoyance, she turned to Amy. “What's upstairs?”

  “Come. I'll show you.”

  Nichole followed Amy from the music room, through the parlor, and around to the stairs. The dining room was empty, and the door to the office closed. Upstairs, the afternoon light from the rooms on the west side reflected across the wood floor. They paused at the top railing. At the other end of the hallway, a steep flight of stairs led to an opening in the ceiling.

  Amy indicated the first door to the right of the stairs, and Nichole peeked in.

  Closed curtains on the west-facing window deflected the afternoon heat, but the room remained bright. A quilt-covered bed stood before her, the headboard centered on the wall to her right. Left of the door was a white chest of drawers, with a matching wardrobe in the corner. Two chairs were positioned near the stone fireplace. Nichole turned back to Amy, still in the hallway.

  “That is the room I share with Jason—when I'm at the ranch.” Amy blushed and directed Nichole’s attention to the two doors at the far end of the hall. “Those are small guest rooms. The stairs go up to the attic, where Jeanne, June, and Cookie sleep. This is your room.” Amy stepped into the room across from hers, and Nichole followed her in.

  The furniture layout was similar to Amy's room. To her left was a single brass bed with a number of colorful quilts layered over the mattress. A stone fireplace on the far side of the room held more photographs on its mantel. A lamp burned brightly atop a low dressing table beside a chest of drawers. A matching pair of wardrobes stood beside the door.

  Amy rounded the bed and indicated a door on the other side of the bed. “You might like this.” She opened the door to a balcony and allowed the breeze to gust into the room.

  Nichole walked around the bed to the balcony and looked out. The eastern horizon had darkened beneath with storm clouds. Lightning flashed near the ground, and thunderheads billowed in the sky overhead. On her left, close to the back of the house, grew a large cottonwood tree. She took a deep breath and smiled.

  Amy’s right. I smell the rain.

  She closed the door on the distant storm and turned to her room.

  Amy sat on the end of the bed. “The opening beneath the stairs in the dining room leads to the kitchen, bathing room, and back door. Across the back yard is the larger cookhouse. I can show you those tomorrow.” She paused and met Nichole's eyes. “What do you think?”

  Nichole sat in the chair by the unlit fireplace. “It's big and more open than The Shilo. It's more finished and formal.”

  “You're right,” Amy agreed. “Your father designed this house with a wife and daughter in mind. He wanted you to be happy here after living in Boston.” Amy paused until Nichole looked back at her. “There was another reason as well. Phil Shilo and your father decided they would use this house to entertain their guests. The Shilo has the more practical ranch house. They had hoped one day the two ranches would merge, along with the families.”

  “Is that why I was to marry Kevin?” The words were bitter on her tongue.

  Amy shook her head. “I don't know how it came to that point with Kevin. I knew your father hoped for a union between you and Merril until you broke that off.”

  Nichole's heart clenched. Merril elicited such opposing emotions in her. He held her heart, but had he betrayed her? Her feelings for Merril were too personal to share with Amy. “I broke it off?” She rose to look at photos on the mantel and hid her discomfiture. Portraits of the man and woman from downstairs, her parents she assumed, stared back at her.

  “You and I never discussed it, of course. I only know what Jason heard, probably from your father.”

  Nichole nodded and looked at the next photo. It was a recent picture of Kevin, Merril, and herself. She lifted the oval frame from its stand and studied the photograph. She was seated between the brothers who stood to either side of her chair. Both men wore suits, and she wondered if Kevin wore the same outfit he had yesterday. Merril looked so different wearing a suit, that it made her smile, despite her confused emotions. She replaced the picture above the fireplace and turned to Amy.

  “Would you like to freshen up?” Amy gestured to the dressing table. Water was already in the bowl and towels set to one side. Nichole wet her hands and splashed water on her face, then used a sweet-smelling bar of soap to wash her hands. She dried them on the towel.

  “Shall we go?” Amy prompted when Nichole continued to stand beside the dressing table.

  Nichole hesitated. Amy's innocent question sent a surge of nervous flutters loose inside her stomach. After their meal, she would meet with Jimmy Leigh and Jones. Her regret at this confrontation was made bearable only by her fierce determination to set things right. She turned and looked at Amy in consideration. “You heard me speak with Jason about meeting with Jimmy Leigh and Blackie Jones?”

  “Yes, I did.” Amy waited beside the door. Conflict etched her face. “I know I shouldn't say anything, but since we are being honest tonight, I must warn you, Nicki—stay away from Jones. He's a dangerous man.”

  “If he's dangerous, why is he still working on the ranch?”

  “I can't say,” Amy whispered her eyes downcast. Her gaze rose to Nichole. “The boy and his family, was that the crux of the matter?”

  “Yes. It started with Jones's callous racial remarks, but the story came out. The family is homeless and has an ill baby. What else could I do?”

  “I'm not questioning your decision. Although, I'm not the one you'll need to convince.”

  “What would you have done?” Nichole stepped closer to Amy.

  “I'm ashamed to say I would have done nothing, which isn't good o
r noble.” Amy looked away again, and when she turned back, her eyes filled with worry. “You realize some people will become ... outraged with you over this decision.”

  “I've discovered that already.”

  “Still, if it's what you believe—”

  “There was nothing else I could have done.”

  “Then you must act how you feel is right.” Amy paused at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

  The sandy-haired girl looked in the open doorway. “There's a couple downstairs to see you, Nicki. The man said you asked them to come here?” Confusion etched her freckled face.

  “Yes, I did. Thank you ... Jeanne.” Nichole remembered her name at the last second.

  Jeanne studied Nichole then added, “Cookie says dinner is ready.”

  Nichole tipped her head in understanding, and Jeanne disappeared, her quick footsteps sounding again on the stairs.

  “What are you going to do with your new house guests?” Amy asked.

  “I didn't give this much thought, did I? I'm open to suggestions.”

  Amy tapped her lips with her finger as her dark eyes turned to the ceiling. “Hmm. I’d use discretion to achieve your goals. Perhaps you could suggest they have dinner in the yard tonight. There is a table there, and the weather is mild. Cookie and Jeanne will become acquainted with Timothy’s wife and baby.” Amy paused in consideration. “Do not let them be thought of as guests. They must have jobs.”

  “Doing what?”

  Amy's gaze returned to Nichole. “Have the young man help prepare the ranch for winter. Jim and Lloyd have no time. Assign him to work for Tom. He can help mend the kitchen roof, restore the shingles, fill the bins with wood. The list is long.”

  “And his wife?” Nichole followed Amy into the hall.

  “Her position in the household will resolve itself in time.” Amy paused and looked into Nichole's wide blue eyes. “Be sure everyone understands this is a temporary living arrangement. It will serve only until more suitable housing for Timothy's family can be found.”

  Amy's suggestions lifted Nichole's spirits and eased her anxiety. “Thanks for your help. I'm glad you came back early.”