22
Asher paced through Alcott Manor and listened intently for the sounds of his family arriving home. Laughing, jumping, running, and sometimes arguing. Layla usually brought the girls home right after school, but the sun was setting and they were nowhere to be found.
He slapped the fat handle of a screwdriver into the palm of his hand. One tap per slow step of his feet to mark the time. He’d been very busy and now he must wait. Where were they? Her mother’s? Mason’s house? He didn’t know where that was. Maybe she wouldn’t even come home tonight, since her sense of propriety had sunk to new depths.
Wherever she was, she would sleep eventually, and if she thought of him, he would hear that call. He was attuned to the sound of her dreams now. Like the ringing of a doorbell, it was a signal, an alert that he had a way in. The door to her mind was unlocked and she was open for business. And then…it was payback time. Not just for Layla, but for Mason, too.
No, he hadn’t been able to leave the manor since he died. But her dream would be a bridge for him to get to her. A dreamy rainbow bridge full of bright colorful images that would drop him right where he wanted to be. He’d traveled it before, he knew the way.
He couldn’t wait to show her what he had been up to in the manor. He had been such a busy boy today! So much of Mason’s equipment had just been sitting around, waiting for an adjustment. The loosening of a screw here, the twirling of a bolt there, the fraying of cords everywhere… He widened his eyes and called up the voice he used when the girls were younger and had begged him for story time: Mister Mason climbed up to the wall, Mister Mason had a great fall! All of Mama’s horses and all of Mama’s hospital men won’t be able to put Mister Mason together again!
He clapped and wiggled in a feel-good shiver. He couldn’t wait to tell her, to see Layla’s face once she knew what he had planned. After tonight, there would be no doubt in her mind. Something horrible was about to befall Mason.
23
With a glass of red wine balanced in his hand, Mason stood at the outdoor grill and cooked two thick filets and several vegetables. The sun had set and his profile was highlighted by the full moon that had only barely risen. She could see his jaw muscles flexing with worry, she imagined.
He had checked his phone several times during the rest of the day, but no calls had come from Jordan or Tom’s contacts. Sharp pangs of fear shot through Layla’s heart and she silently asked herself: What is real? What is true?
“You’re awfully quiet.” He managed a smile.
“Lots to think about.”
He nodded and sipped his wine. He didn’t press.
“I was asking myself your mother’s questions.”
He put the steaks and the vegetables on the plates and brought them over.
He raised his glass to hers and they clinked when they met.
She knew that he cared about her—that was true. But was it real? Not really, because there was something he didn’t know.
“Any luck?”
“No real answers, yet.”
“Sometimes that happens. The answers usually come eventually.”
They talked about New York and how much he hated working there, how he had taken over his father’s business, and how much he loved working it. The easy rhythm of the evening made her feel that their lives could always be this simple. She could see them spending every evening on the deck of the lake house, their cloistered haven that kept them safe from the world.
He stared at his empty plate for a moment after he said it and she knew. She knew he thought of Jordan and her threats. The fear was evident in his eyes, as though someone held a gun to his head.
“Do the girls often sleep over at your mother’s house?”
She drew in a deep breath and let him change the subject. She didn’t want to talk about Jordan or her threats, either. Plus the wine wrapped thick around her brain, like a fuzzy, too-comfortable sweater. She snuggled into that temporary carefree comfort. Their problems were too big to figure out tonight, anyway. “About once or twice a week, depends on my work schedule. She’s slowly converting her home into an amusement park so the girls don’t want to leave. She put in a pool with a slide and a trampoline on the other side of the yard. Next thing you know she’ll build a merry-go-round.” She sipped her wine. “And I’ll let her. She can spoil them all she wants.”
“Friday night is their usual night?” He pushed his empty plate forward an inch, leaned back and crossed his legs.
“No, typically it’s Saturday. But the girls mentioned today that—” She stopped herself.
“Are they uncomfortable at the manor?”
She thought for a minute and then decided to run with it. “Yes. They said they heard Asher in the house and that he was angry.”
She watched his response carefully, saw his jaw muscles work and his lips press together more tightly.
“I’ve seen some strange things myself. I wouldn’t be surprised if Asher’s spirit was still there,” she said casually.
He shook his head and stared at the lake.
“I think some spirit was stuck at the manor for years until Tom brought in Dixie. One of my ancestors, I suppose. Maybe even Benjamin Alcott. You could feel that energy even from outside the house.”
“Tell the girls not to tell anyone at school what they told you. That will come back to hurt them.”
She realized just how much Mason held on to the hurt that had been inflicted on Dixie and their family over the Reverend Milligan mess. “A lot has changed since you were young. Mediums and psychics are on TV now, and lots of people are impressed with what they can do. It’s different.”
“People are people. They judge. Especially in this town. And the minute they find something that they can use against you, they will. It’s been that way since biblical times, it’s that way today. Maybe the mystical is more accepted than it used to be, I’ll give you that. But if you say that someone is a psychic, that’s not the same level of acceptance as saying they’re a dentist.”
“No. I guess not.”
“People don’t judge dentists. When the minister of your church finds out there’s a dentist in the congregation, he doesn’t stand in the pulpit and announce that the next four sermons are going to be on The Evils of Dentists. But when he finds out there’s a psychic in the crowd and she might know too much about the secrets you have stashed away, he sure as hell has a lot to say about The Evils of Tarot and Psychics.” His face flushed slightly and his eyes hardened with old anger.
“Reverend Milligan did that?”
“That man had a lot to hide.”
He reached out to her and she put her hand in his. “My whole family paid a huge price thanks to him. And while I don’t blame Dixie, she couldn’t have known how people would behave, I wouldn’t want to see you or the girls go through anything like that. People judge. They talk. I feel protective of you, that’s all.”
“I understand,” she said. And she did understand.
“I guess that’s why I never much believed in it. Once you get burned, you just stay away from the source.”
Layla wished her dream options had been as easy as simply not believing.
“You don’t believe in those things, or you couldn’t forgive those people for what they did?”
He paused for a moment and then he said, “Some people don’t deserve forgiveness for what they’ve done.”
She felt her hopes of endless lake house evenings fly off into the distance.
She made a smile and thought about how he and his brother ended up in her public school when all this happened. “You know, if the community hadn’t been so narrow-minded toward Dixie, you never would have been kicked out of your private school and you and I might never have met.”
He nodded slowly. “That is a definite silver lining on that dark cloud.”
They cleaned up the dishes and went inside. It was dark and Layla felt the effects of work and several hours of sun and swimming. “I ought to get back to the mano
r. It’s late. I’m beat.” Adrenaline shot through her chest at the thought of being there alone or, even worse, with Asher. She decided she would do her job, then stay with a friend.
“I don’t want you to be at the manor by yourself. I know we have police patrolling there, but—listen, why don’t you just stay here tonight? It is late and the manor can do without you for one night.”
She opened her mouth to object, even though she welcomed the invitation. “I don’t—”
“I’m not suggesting anything. I have four bedrooms here. Two couches. You pick the spot you want and I’ll choose from what’s left. Make yourself at home.”
“I feel like I’m invading your private space.”
“You’re not. I want you here for as long and as often as you want to be here. If the girls are uncomfortable at the manor, they're welcome as well. Come one, come all.” He slipped his arms around her and snuggled her close.
She gently nuzzled her face against his neck and decided that being close to Mason at his home was far better than being close to Asher at the manor. “Maybe I will stay here tonight.”
“Good. I know I’d feel better if you did.” He winked as he walked away. “Relax here on the couch while I clean the grill. I’ll be back in a minute, and I’ll show you around and you can pick the bedroom you want. I’ll get you a T-shirt and I’m sure I have a new toothbrush stashed somewhere.”
Layla sipped the last of her wine, even though she really didn’t need any more, and took in her current circumstance. How often had she and Mason swam in that lake? And how many times did she dream she could live in this beautiful house? She was inside now, but maybe further away from that dream than ever before.
Exhausted, she snuggled against one of the couch pillows and began to let go. The girls had had a great day at the lake. They were safe and happy at Jayne Ella’s for the night. Maybe for the weekend. For as much of a pain in the neck as her mother had been in her life, she was a good sitter for the girls. It was the one break Layla had.
She wasn’t at the manor tonight. Also good. Much as she was grateful for the money that the manor would bring her, she needed a night off from worry.
About the time she realized she was sliding down a gratitude list and into a deep pool of sleep, she woke to find Mason carrying her upstairs. He kissed her on the forehead and shortly thereafter she felt the cool sheets of a soft bed beneath her.
She would have thought it a guest room, but she quickly noticed that the bed smelled like Mason. She was in Mason’s bed. He disappeared and she figured he was headed for the couch or a different room. She wriggled out of her jeans and bra and dropped them on the floor beside the bed. She would be asleep on the inside of thirty seconds.
But then Mason slipped in behind her with bare legs, a bare chest and boxers. He wrapped his arm around her belly and her eyes flew open in the dark.
As had become her first instinct for some time now, she pinched a small wedge of thin skin between her nails to see if she was awake. Tonight it was the skin from inside her forearm, and yes, she was awake.
She ran her palm along his arm to make sure there were no tingles or other signs of her dream world. There weren’t. This was real.
His kisses dragged along the side of her neck and brought her fully awake, in a way she wished she weren’t. Mason tried to back his hips away from her, but it was obvious he was feeling the same way she was.
The years of being ignored by Asher, the slow build of affection between her and Mason, made her want to roll toward him and give in. But she couldn’t. It was too much, she wasn’t ready. And she kept so many secrets from him, he would hate her once they finally came to light.
And then it hit her. He wouldn’t be with her at all if he knew the truth.
Her heart crumpled.
She turned around to tell him that they had to stop. In the dark, his lips brushed against hers, soft and teasing, and everything tightened inside of her. She breathed in the subtle scents of malt and honey from his skin.
There was no hurry in the way he touched her and she dissolved into a mist of feelings and sensations, caught up in the storm of electricity between them. At once she knew that sex with him would be as dynamic and driven and intoxicating as she had dreamed.
His hand slid up and down her thigh until she draped her leg over his hip, hungering for him in a way she hadn’t fully realized. He shifted his weight, positioning himself on top of her.
It was too much, deliciously too much. Her head swam with every exquisite sensation, this proof that life could begin again and in the most unexpected ways.
He settled between her legs and she arched into him, feeling the fiery need rising in the both of them.
“God, Layla,” he whispered next to her ear.
Like a flash of lightning, a bolt of guilt ripped through her and she pushed herself out from under him, abrupt and breathless.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to push it. I just—God. Being so close to you sets me on fire.”
“It’s—I can’t.” She shook her head. Her body throbbed with appetite and need, one that howled and raged when she had pulled away from him. “I can’t.”
“No, it’s fine.” His tone was soft and final. He didn’t ask her what was wrong or why. His hands moved slowly along her arm, quieting the pace that had nearly exploded between them.
“We have to talk, Mason. There’s something you need to know.”
He laid down and pulled her close to him again. “Come here.”
He kissed her with a goodbye-for-now kiss, a let-me-just-taste-you-one-more-time kiss, and a lingering God-I-really-don’t-want-to-stop-this kiss.
He snuggled her to him and the strong pillow of his chest and the warmth of his body sufficed for the present. Their hands tangled together, sliding against one another and then falling into a perfect fit once again.
“We’ll talk in the morning, okay?” He kissed the top of her head. “In the daylight. Right now I just want you close to me.”
She sighed. “Okay.”
“We have plenty of time, I’m not going anywhere.”
Too tired for coherent words, and knowing there was nothing she could have said to him that would have worked out well anyway, she relaxed her heart into his care. Just for one more night. She wrapped her arm around his midsection and anchored her hand beneath his upper back. His solid comfort beneath her was an intimate, sweet pleasure. She thought for a moment that it might actually be better than sex.
In the stillness of the quiet, the warmth and strength of his hand spoke where he didn’t. His wide palm slid along the side of her body, reaching gently over her hip, to her thigh and up again. Her senses followed his fingertip when it drew light ovals on her skin, the designs long and delicate. His touch joined them together, moving along her skin as though he could feel what he did to her, as though he knew what he made her body do, as though he painted a pathway to tomorrow.
She didn’t tilt her head to meet his lips, though she wanted to feel them with her own. Instead she let the fire burn between them, slow and hot.
Her body ached for him, so much so that it was hard to keep her hips still. She wanted to move against him, over him and release the pressure. But she forced a space between what her body wanted and what she was willing to do. In that pause, and even though she knew she didn’t deserve it, she felt vines of trust growing between her and Mason, twisting and thickening, their roots pushing deep into the darkness. And though it nearly broke her heart to feel it, the trust gave way to hope. Hope that tomorrow he would understand, hope that all would be forgiven and hope that what they had between them could last.
His mesmerizing touch slowed and his breathing became more regular. He was drifting off, as was she, the world around them dark and safe and comforting. The weightlessness moved over her quickly, and sleep pulled at her like an insistent child who wouldn’t be ignored. She didn’t have time to put together a gratitude list, but she did have one final thought
when she nuzzled her head against his chest.
With any luck, tonight she would dream.
24
Layla stood on the grassy banks of Mason’s lake house where a shooting star flew overhead with an image trail as long as the sky was wide. She knew immediately she was dreaming.
Under the bright glow of a full moon, she wiggled her bare toes in the soft, thin grass that was spongey to her touch. When she pinched herself, this time on the thigh, her fingertips felt tingly and the pinch wasn’t sharp. She could have taken a nighttime flight or skated across the water, she could have flown with that shooting star. But all she really wanted was to be with Mason.
A bevy of white swans honked from the other side of the lake and floated near an arched opening she’d never seen before. The lake rose to the halfway mark, and the upper arch held firm with its moss and braided tree root structure.
A pair of warm arms slid around her and she closed her eyes in pleasure.
“I wondered where you were,” she said. “I was about to come find you.”
She turned around and found Mason looking just as he had when she fell asleep next to him in his darkened bedroom. The tenderness in his cinnamon-colored gaze gave her that ticklish sensation in her heart. The one that urged her to move ahead.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked.
She wondered if he would remember parts of this dream, just as she suspected that he remembered snippets of the other one. She decided it might be best to keep things as real as possible.
“I wanted some fresh air. It’s a nice night.”
He glanced at the sky and then the lake, nodding slowly. “Something feels a little different, doesn’t it?”
She startled at his recognition. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Everything feels a bit…dreamy. Maybe I’m tired.”
“Maybe that's it.” She rubbed her palm against the warmth of his bare chest. “Do you want to go back to bed?”
A Murder at Alcott Manor Page 18