“No. I haven’t really had the opportunity to. She’s always surrounded by people. I wanted to tell her privately. Maybe there is something going on at that house that Sophie doesn’t want me to know. Or Mom. Which brings up the question, why? We all know Sophie has no secrets. She’s always pretty open about her psychic stuff. I don’t understand why she would clam up and not tell me if something weird was going on in her house. It’s not like her, and that’s what bothers me the most.” Abby ran a hand over Amy’s soft blond curls, so much like her own.
“Let’s put them in their cribs,” Chris suggested.
Careful so as not to wake the babies, Abby tiptoed out of the master bedroom to the nursery, where they put the twins in separate cribs. She pulled a light blanket over each child, traced a finger lovingly across their puffy cheeks, and dotted their heads with light kisses before stepping out of the room.
Downstairs, she filled two glasses with ice while Chris removed the tea from the refrigerator. Once they were settled at the small table, still scattered with empty baby-food jars, Chris spoke. “Do you think we need to speak to Sophie? Or at least ask Toots if she’s aware of anything going on that we need to know about?”
Abby took a sip of her tea before answering. “I’m not sure. I would hate to go behind Sophie’s back, because I wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings. But on the other hand, if there is some paranormal activity going on, I would think Mom would know. She and Sophie live, eat, and breathe the stuff.”
“Call your mother. Who knows? Sophie could’ve been in the midst of some wild discovery and simply wanted you and the kids out of the house.”
Abby had her doubts. Her reporter instincts were kicking in, big-time. Whatever was going on at Sophie’s house, she would find out.
Come hell or high water, she thought as she drained the last of her tea.
Chapter Seven
Sophie opened her eyes, surprised to find sunlight filtering through the slats from the plantation shutters. She glanced at the clock beside the bed. Nine thirty. “Shit.” She tossed the duvet aside and raked a hand through her tangled hair. Her head throbbed when she moved. She’d had one too many glasses of Goebel’s spiked strawberry lemonade last night. Looking down at herself, she saw that she was wearing nothing but her bra and underwear, which meant that Goebel must’ve undressed her and put her to bed.
Taking a deep breath, careful not to move her head too fast, she went to the master bath, where she stripped off what little she wore before turning the shower on, then eased herself under the warm spray. Careful not to jolt her pounding head, she raised her shoulders and let the water release the tension in them. Tilting her head back, she reached for the shampoo on the corner shelf. Being careful not to move too much, she washed her hair and vigorously tried to scrub last night away.
Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a giant bath towel around herself and a smaller one around her head. She brushed her teeth twice, gargled with mouthwash, then spritzed herself with her favorite body spray, one with a light freesia scent. Wanting to do something yet nothing, Sophie mostly didn’t want to face her thoughts, her failure last night. She grabbed a pair of jeans and a red blouse out of the closet and tossed them on the bed while she removed a matching bra and panty set from the bureau. Dressing quickly, she returned to the bathroom, where she combed out her hair and secured the mass on top of her head with a clip. The scent of coffee wafting from the kitchen forced her to speed up, then slow down again as her head began to throb once more.
She went downstairs as fast as she could without jarring her head too much. Goebel was at the stove, stirring something that smelled utterly delicious. “I figured you’d sleep in,” he said as she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“You figured right. Damn, how much of that strawberry lemonade did I drink?” She let go of him and poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Apparently more than you should. You and Toots were both snookered. Mavis had to drive Toots home; she could hardly walk.” Goebel grinned. “I think I may have forgotten to tell you the lemonade was already spiked. You two gals just kept adding that vodka. I should’ve said something, but you were both too gone to care by the time I thought about telling you.”
Sophie refilled her cup. “You just wanted to get me drunk so you could take advantage of me. I saw I only had my undies on.”
“The thought crossed my mind, I won’t deny it, but you were too wiped out to join in. Besides, someone snored all night. It was a turnoff.”
Sophie felt herself blush. “Did I really?”
“So loud I came downstairs and slept on the sofa,” Goebel said as he removed the skillet from the stove.
“I would offer to say I’m sorry, but if you knew that stuff was spiked, and let me add to it, then a night on the couch is justified. Now, Mr. Blevins, sir, I am going to smoke, then you can tell me what it is in that skillet that smells so good.”
Taking her cigarettes from the counter, she stepped outside and lit up, still being careful not to move too quickly. Her headache wasn’t going to go away easily. After a few puffs, she crushed out the cigarette, then returned to the kitchen, where Goebel had a plate of food waiting for her. He refilled their coffee mugs before fixing a plate for himself.
“What’s this?” Sophie asked. She forked into the yellow fluffiness. “Yum, whatever it is.”
“That’s my New York omelet. Smoked sausage, onions, green peppers, potatoes, and lots of cheddar cheese. I used to make that for myself almost every day. It helped to contribute to all the fat I was carrying around.”
Bemused, Sophie looked at him. “And you’re feeding this to me, why?” She winked, taking another bite from her omelet.
“Once in a while doesn’t hurt. Mavis taught me that. After last night, I figured we could both splurge a bit.”
“Why do you say that?” Her senses were suddenly on high alert.
Goebel took a bite and chewed his food thoroughly before answering her. Another habit ingrained in him by Mavis. Chew each and every bite at least twenty times. If she were here now, Sophie would cram the rest of her omelet down Mavis’s throat.
He took a sip of coffee. “You were off your game, and you were smashed. I’m figuring you got smashed because you weren’t able to connect with this spirit.”
Sophie thought about what he said. It made perfect sense but was so far off the mark it was pathetic. “I’m usually able to make contact quickly, but this psychic business isn’t scientific. There are no guarantees. I’m just sorry that Daniel didn’t get a good scare.” She took another bite of her omelet. Her headache was all but gone, for which she was thankful. Not wanting to lie to Goebel because he was her husband, and because she figured they owed each other total honesty, she spoke up without giving away too much. “That’s not exactly what went on last night, and at this point, I won’t risk trying to pinpoint a particular event that caused me to be off my game, but I think there’s a lot more going on. Here. In this house.” Sophie watched Goebel chew his food but knew from his expression that he was contemplating her words. He wasn’t a man given to rash thoughts, especially anything on a personal level. Professionally, he was a very quick study when it came to making decisions. She let him think. “I’m going to have another smoke. I’ll put a fresh pot of coffee on when I’m finished.” She took her plate, rinsed it, then placed it on the bottom rack of the dishwasher before stepping out.
Once outside, she lit up, walking down the stone path and inhaling the morning scent of all the hydrangeas. Quiet, just what she needed this morning. Living most of her adult life in New York City, she’d never had much of an interest in growing things or in nature. She had never really cared about it one way or another. But now that she found herself surrounded by the giant oaks, enchanted by the rainbow of flowers scattered throughout the mini-gardens, and captivated by the feel of the soft grass that tickled her bare feet, Sophie craved what she now had and sometimes wondered how she had survived withou
t it.
Calming her racing mind, she stopped to smell the lavender hydrangea bush. Sweet and intoxicating, she thought as she stubbed her cigarette out in the empty pack. Figuring Goebel would come looking for her, she hurried down the stone path, blades of freshly mown grass clinging to the bottom of feet dampened by the stones. She wiped her feet on the sweetgrass floor mat she’d purchased from a young woman on one of her many trips to the City Market, her new favorite place in the historical city she was coming to love—as much as one could love a city.
“I thought you’d run off,” Goebel called when he heard the back door open.
Sophie returned to the kitchen and wrapped her arms around her husband, placing a quick kiss on his freshly shaved cheek. She inhaled, loving his clean, manly scent. “You smell good. I had to check the hydrangeas, make sure they still smelled good, too. Now, sit and let me make another pot of coffee, or I will kick your ass.” Sophie rinsed the pot out, filled the coffee machine with fresh water, scooped Folgers coffee into the basket, then leaned against the counter, facing Goebel, who sat on one of the bar stools around the kitchen island.
“You scare me, you know that? But having said that, I know what you’re doing, Mrs. Blevins. Might as well spit it out and get it over with.”
Damn, he did know her, she thought as she watched him.
“What is it you think I need to ‘spit out’?” She took the carafe of coffee to the island and refilled both their cups. “I’m not hiding anything,” Sophie added.
“I know you’re not, but I know you’re stewing about something. You always get this certain look in your eyes when you’re deep in thought.”
“What kind of look?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood before it became somber. She didn’t want to explain her suspicions to Goebel just yet.
“Get a mirror and see for yourself.”
Sophie didn’t have a comeback this time. “Last thing I want to do. I saw myself in the mirror this morning.”
“Okay, you don’t want to talk about whatever it is that’s drawn that curtain across your eyes, so let’s talk about something else. Remember those papers I found the other day?” Goebel paused, waiting for her to comment.
“I do. Why? Did you find something else?” she asked, forcing herself to truly listen.
“I did a bit of snooping around on the Internet, made a few phone calls. I wanted to see if I could locate this Ted Dabney, the last ancestor who lived here.”
Sophie’s heart raced. “And?”
“I found him. I called and left word for him to call me. Seems he’s some kind of investment banker, travels the world. I told the woman I spoke with that I needed to get in touch with him, and to make sure she told him it was urgent.” Goebel watched her.
“This is good. But why? What do you hope to find out?”
“More of the history on this place, if anything happened here that we should know about. Stuff like that. Plus I want to know about that room upstairs. Your séance room, the bad vibes you’re getting.”
“Are you telling me you think there’s something wrong in that room just because I wasn’t able to make contact with that spirit, ghost, whatever it is, last night? Because if that’s the case, you’re traveling down the wrong path. Goebel, promise me you won’t mess with anything in that room. I need it to remain as it is. I know I can make contact with this spirit, but it’s not like all the other times. There is more to this woman; she desperately wants to tell me her story, but something is holding her back. I know it. Let me handle this.” There, she’d said it. Kind of, sort of. She didn’t even want to say the words out loud, fearing the consequences.
“I’m not going to do anything to the room, Soph. We agreed to leave it alone for as long as you want. I don’t care if it stays that way forever. I saw you race out of there the other day. I saw you at the top of the stairs. You were frightened, and you don’t get frightened easily. I thought it might be a good idea to see if there was an accident in the house. You know how the old plantation homes are. There’s always a story to tell, some haunting or dark tale.”
“So you’re going to just ask this Ted Dabney if anything weird happened here?” Sophie asked.
“I might phrase it a bit differently, but yes, that’s what I hope to find out. It was his family home, and he sold it to Toots. I don’t think he got rid of it because he needed the money. From what I gather, his portfolio is quite hefty. So that leads me to wonder why he would sell his family home. Why not keep it in the family? Renovate it, let the historical society give tours or something. I thought you’d be pleased to hear this,” Goebel said, his tone serious, all business now.
Damn, she thought, she’d upset him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. “I’m glad you’re doing this. If we’re going to spend the rest of our lives in this house, then I want to know about the history as much as you do. I just don’t want you to make more than you should out of my not being able to connect to the spirit world. And I’m not so sure I would tell this Dabney guy that you’re married to me. At least, don’t mention my name. As much as I’ve enjoyed the fame, and helping people, I don’t want a bunch of weirdos including me and our home on a ghost tour.”
“I promise to keep your name out of the conversation if he calls. He might not, so don’t worry about something that hasn’t even happened.”
He was right, she thought, but there was more. And just saying the words put anyone who entered the house at risk. Which reminded her of her plans for later that evening. “I want to call off the séance tonight. I don’t think I’ve recovered enough physically to do it again so soon. I want to meditate awhile before trying again. Like I said, this spirit is confused, and she doesn’t know . . . doesn’t know she’s dead, at least that is what I believe at this point. She is frightened, and this is new to her, no matter if she’s dead or alive in this . . . vision I’m having.”
“Sophie, if I didn’t know you, I would think you were out of your mind, but I do know you, and I trust your judgment. If you imagine this is what’s happening, then I agree. I don’t think you’re telling me the whole story, and you have your reasons. I can live with that. For now. We can call off the séance, it’s fine with me, but I don’t want to see you worry yourself sick over this. Maybe we can go to Abby’s today, see those two little stinkers. I didn’t get to see them when they stopped by the other day.”
“No!” Sophie screamed. Calming herself, she lowered her voice. “I mean we can’t, because Toots said Abby asked her to stop coming over daily. Said something about family time and all. I don’t want to interfere. I know they have to have their space, that’s all. We can call her later,” Sophie said, hoping to end the discussion. She did not even want to talk about the twins in this house. There was too much at risk.
“Whatever you say, but I would bet Abby and Chris would welcome a break. We could sit with the babes for a bit; maybe they’ll want to go to dinner tonight. You should at least ask Abby. Did she tell Toots that applied to her godmothers too? You aren’t over there every day.”
For once, Sophie wished Goebel would forget about her issues. “Let’s go sit in the garden. I need to smell some fresh air and soak up a bit of sun. We spend too much time indoors.”
“For you, I will do anything, Soph. But we are going to finish this conversation later. Okay?”
“Whatever you want, Goebel. Whatever you want,” Sophie agreed.
At that point, she would’ve agreed to anything just to change the subject. Until she knew exactly what was going on in this house, no one, and especially the twins, were coming within an inch of it. No, those babies weren’t equipped to fight what she knew would be the fight of their lives.
She would fight this or die trying.
Chapter Eight
Toots felt absolutely awful, like she’d chewed cotton and gargled with rocks. She practically had to peel her tongue from the roof of her mouth. Swallowing, trying to moisten her mouth, she rolled over in bed and saw that she’d slept mu
ch later than normal. And that was when she remembered last night.
“Oh, damn,” she mumbled, glad that Phil wasn’t lying beside her to witness her hungover state, glad he’d told her before she’d gotten sloshed that he was going to spend the night at his place in Charleston.
Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position and leaned back against the bed’s headboard. Seated on the pillow next to her was Frankie. He guarded her like she was the queen of England. She patted his nose. “Give me a few minutes, okay? I think I had too much to drink last night.”
He barked three times in response. Toots thought of this as his reprimand bark. “I know, I know, it’s not a good thing.”
Her head felt as if an orchestra was playing inside, and there was an extra set of drums playing exclusively for her appreciation. She remembered the séance, then going downstairs. She and Sophie had drunk way too much strawberry lemonade laced with vodka, and she didn’t remember much after that. Somehow—she had no idea how—she’d managed to make it home with Frankie and crawl into her bed. But that was it. She lowered her eyes to her chest. She still wore the silk blouse she’d had on last night. She wiggled her toes. At least she’d thought to remove her shoes. She moved her legs against the sheets. Yep, she’d taken her slacks off, too.
Shifting her legs over the edge of the mattress, she eased her way off the bed, careful to walk very, very slowly. The hammering inside her head forced her to stop midway across the room. She waited for a few seconds, hoping to calm the band in her head, but she could tell that this was not going to be one of those hangovers cured by a couple of aspirin and a strong cup of coffee. A soak in the tub was in order. She thought about going outside to smoke first, but it quickly passed. Just thinking about smoking gagged her.
Inside the bathroom, she filled her garden tub with hot water and a sprinkling of her favorite gardenia bath salts. Stripping off her panties and blouse, she lowered herself into the scented water, careful not to make any sudden movements. As soon as she relaxed, her cell phone began to ring. Never knowing who or what it could be, she stepped out of the tub, not bothering to dry off. She must’ve left the phone in here last night. Toots picked up the phone from the top of the counter and said “Hello” in a none-too-friendly tone of voice.
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