A Murder at Alcott Manor

by Alyssa Richards

  An owl hooted in the distance and Mason tilted his head, as if he listened to it. “No. You’re right. It’s a nice night.”

  He kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around him, claiming him as her own.

  “Then how about a swim?” He stepped away from her, shoved his boxers over his hips until they hit the ground and headed for the lake. He motioned for her to join him.

  She lifted off the striped shirt she’d worn earlier in the day and slipped off her panties. She couldn't have him gallivanting unchaperoned in her dream; she would have to follow him.

  “I knew you were still a wild child. Given the right conditions,” he said when he saw her walking toward him.

  They splashed their way through the lake, and she expected the swans to scatter. Instead, they bounced quietly on the small waves, like bath toys in a giant tub. When she caught up with Mason, she let him bring her close. She sealed their embrace by locking her arms and legs around him, enjoying the feel of the warm water that slipped between their even warmer bodies.

  Mason touched her as if he were getting more familiar with her body, still discovering but also enjoying. They floated across the lake like that, in each other’s intimate embrace, until Layla realized they had reached the wooded arch she had seen earlier. An orangey glow emanated from inside the secret tunnel and the swans parted as if they encouraged them to go inside.

  “Did you know this was here?” She wondered if she had just missed it earlier in the day or if this was strictly a part of her dream.

  He shrugged and shook his head. “I’ve never seen it before.”

  Once inside, the ceiling opened up like the inside of a cave. A small sandy beach sloped on the right, glittering and sparkling with hundreds of greenish blue gemstones.

  “I think my imagination is working overtime,” she whispered.

  “I rather like this cave.” Mason rested on the sand and floated with his toes peeking up from the water. “From now on, this will be our place and ours alone.”

  She felt as if they were kids again, full of energy and wild imagination. It was as though their whole lives were still laid out ahead of them and that it would always be like this—simple, safe, happy. Together.

  Sifting dry sand through her fingers, she picked out three smooth stones that glowed with an internal fire. Running them over in her palm, they clicked together, one large oval and two smaller roundish stones. He flicked a few drops of water in her direction and she laughed and dug her toes into the wet sand.

  The cave was quiet except for the water lapping at the shore.

  “What were you going to tell me when you came to see me all those years ago?” she asked. “After Brooke’s accident?” It was as if the stones gave her the question to ask. Her curiosity bubbled up inside of her and suddenly she had to have that truth.

  He rested on his elbows at the base of the short beach, the current sloshing against the sand and rocking his body. His expression became serious and thoughtful, and she hoped she wasn’t going to regret asking the question.

  “I wanted to apologize for not standing up for you sooner.”

  She squeezed the three stones in her hand and nodded.

  “I might have also been thinking about that kiss. That was something new in our relationship.” His expression held the same shadows of doubt he must have carried over a decade ago.

  She drew her knees close and nodded quietly, thinking of all the time that had passed since they were teenagers. And yet that time in her life still touched a raw place in her heart.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I screwed up both of our lives on that night—I guess that’s kind of an arrogant thing for me to say. But if I had believed you right away when you said you didn’t hurt Brooke, if I had come to see you sooner—”

  “Mason, don’t—none of what happened was your fault.”

  He searched her eyes, looking for something specific. Forgiveness, she suspected. From this expression, she could see that the guilt was familiar to him, a heavy, worn out companion that he had carried for a decade. She could relate.

  “Well. It’s the fault of whoever attacked Brooke and Jordan that night. That’s who screwed up our lives.”

  She closed her eyes for a long moment. “Yes, I guess it is. I’m so sorry, Mason.”

  “No, no, no. Don’t do that.” He kissed her again and again, as if he could make the past go away, as if he could erase her need to accept the blame, as if he could make everything right. “I’m going to find out who did this, I am. And I’ll make them pay.”

  She considered telling him right then. Right there. She even opened her mouth to say the words: I was the one who did it. But telling him in her dream was a cop-out. That was cheating, because he might not remember. She would have to tell him face to face when the time was right.

  “I have the sense that you’ll be able to do just that,” she said.

  “I guess all we can do now is look forward. What’s happened is done.”

  He stroked the side of her cheek, soft and gentle. He was right. What’s done was done, there was no changing it. When her signature guilt began to rise up, she reached for Dixie’s questions—What is real? What is true? And this time she had a few answers.

  What had happened to Brooke couldn’t have been predicted. She was sorry that she had killed her. Deeply regretful. If there had been some way for her to make things right with her family, she would have.

  His kisses were gentle, sending a shiver throughout all of her and in every direction. The stones she held in her hand dropped to the side of them.

  “I thought I’d lost you.” He buried kisses along her neck and she tightened her legs around his waist.

  “I’ve thought the same thing for so long.” Her head tilted such that she could see the top of the cave now. She thought briefly about that orange-ish glow and how it didn’t seem to originate from anywhere specific, until his tongue dragged along the base of her neck and his lips sucked at her skin. How did his simple kisses set off such an explosive reaction inside her? She was becoming addicted to his particular style of kiss, especially when he—oh, yes, like that—they literally made her crave him. Hunger for him.

  She wondered if his lips would replace her craving for cake. One addiction for another?

  His wide hands pressed her hips flush to his, and she gasped against his mouth. His teeth pulled her bottom lip and for a moment there was nothing but the heat and the pulse between them.

  That tingling prickled more strongly in her chest, the meant-to-be feeling she had known long ago but couldn’t place. The one she had learned the hard way to discount and reject because it could lead you astray.

  It was a strong sensation tonight, and in the shadows of this earthly womb she thought maybe she could trust it. Maybe she could let her hopes silently fly in this world that wasn’t real, the world that offered her the safety she had always wanted.

  She arched herself over him and he met her with a torturously slow force.

  “God, yes,” he said.

  She echoed the sentiment in a moan when she settled herself, moving slowly, deeply, her body struggling to get closer to him still. She tightened her grip around his shoulders, and they moved together, heart to heart.

  Their lips pressed in breathless kisses, and she rode him as though a spell had been cast over the both of them. He didn’t smile when he looked up at her, but he did appear entranced. Mesmerized. As though he knew this was everything and not nearly enough and yet he couldn’t stop.

  When she finally cried out, her voice echoed across the cavern and she knew, whatever this was, it owned the both of them completely.

  He held her close and stroked her hair, his breath not yet caught.

  “My God how I’ve loved you in so many ways. As a friend, as a best friend, as now as a lover.” He stroked the side of her cheek. “When I was away, when everything was supposed to be ideal and nothing was, you were the only one I thought of, with your bluest of eyes and your smi
le that knows my heart. As if you were calling me home.”

  She wondered if somehow she had, the simple result of his never being far from her own thoughts. Maybe that had been a beacon, a call from her heart to his.

  Her finger traced along his chest and she tried to remember that this was just a dream. She had forgotten for a while. Certainly. Happily. She snuggled closer to him. “I don’t want to let go of what we have.”

  “I hope you won’t.” He kissed her head.

  “No, I just mean—” Well, she couldn’t say it aloud, but she didn’t want to walk away from this dream. She knew she had to, though she hoped against all odds the possibility of it would become her reality.

  “We’ll have the rest of our lives together,” he said, “if you’ll have me.”

  She sat up, as did he, and they gazed at one another for a long moment, his eyes smiling with his own plan for the two of them.

  She would have married him on the spot, stark naked and in their gem-laden, make-believe cave if a minister had been present. The only thing holding her back was how much she wanted this, how she knew that tomorrow it would be gone, and how dangerous it was to let her heart believe.

  “This is our time. Finally. Tonight, this is about you and me and this amazing place we’ve found. Let’s not waste this.”

  “You’re right,” she finally said.

  The walls of the cave were the dark underside of the thick wooded forest above them. Roots dangled from above with bits of black dirt clinging to the sides of them. The space had been hollowed just for them. She would be crushed when this didn’t come to pass. But, she finally decided, a few minutes of wonderful, a taste of what should have been, was better than never having it at all.

  Slowly, carefully, she allowed herself to flow with the purpose of her dreams: to connect her with possibility.

  He reached for her, slow and deliberate, as if no one and nothing else existed in the world. He wrapped her legs around him again and drew her close to him. “I know I’m right.” He smiled his winner’s smile, the one that convinced her she could do anything, and he lifted something from the sand. “And I know that I love you, Layla.”

  A tiny breath escaped her, the kind that said she’d been caught by surprise.

  “I always have. I always will. So let this,” he rested the largest of the three polished gemstones on her hand. “Be living proof of my love for you.”

  The fiery stone glowed with flashes of lightning yellow across the ocean of green-blue.

  “So, what will it be then?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Will you have me for the rest of your life? Will you marry me, Layla?”

  His proposition synced them with a cadence, as though she and Mason had fallen in step with a pulse that emanated from the earth and surrounded them. For the first time she felt it deep in her bones, a true understanding of what the right path really was.

  “You’re serious?” She had to ask, even though he looked at her like she was the only other person in the world.

  “Marry me, Layla. Make me the happiest man alive.”

  Happiest man alive, yes; happiest man awake, maybe not.

  She stared deeply into those light ginger eyes that had shown her so much kindness and friendship over the years. The ones that saw beneath the surface.

  “Yes,” she finally said. Excitement bubbled from deep within as if this were real and for a long, luxurious moment. With his lips pressed softly to hers, she refused to believe otherwise.

  “We will always be happy together, because our life will simply be a continuation of us.” His breath was warm and whispering against her ear.

  His hands explored her body, tickling and sliding over wet skin. She placed the stone with the other two on the sand, regretting that she wouldn’t be able to take them with her when they left.

  She’d never taken herself for a daredevil before. But here she was, allowing her heart to dangle ahead of herself, dance with abandon, and live completely unprotected. What a precious freedom and a priceless trust, like a leap from the rope swing with Mason nearby.

  The thought of being married to him drove her deeper into her dream, where she was finally carefree. She imagined lazy Saturday mornings in bed with him, their bodies warm beneath the covers and tangled in sweet familiarity.

  With a playful grin, he abandoned the kisses that he had teased along the bare skin of her breasts and belly. He parted her thighs and she sank completely into the insistence of his tongue. He anchored his hands beneath her hips and her body followed the command of his mouth.

  “Mmmm,” he murmured and her body’s response spiked with the vibration of his voice.

  “Ah,” she said and felt his lips shift into a grin. “Oh. Yes.” Her voice was breathy and etheric when it echoed in their cave. Once again, she was someone else entirely in this world. Someone who made noise and talked during sex.

  It seemed that with him she would always be something more than who she had been. His strength, his care, his protectiveness…being the beneficiary of that kind of love changed a person. He laced his fingers with hers and his pace morphed into a demand. His movements started a wave inside of her that built in intensity and spread outward until she shuddered and gasped.

  She smoothed his hair while his tongue traced the inside of her thigh, giving her time to recover, she suspected. “I like your hair like this,” she said, feeling the silk of it between her fingers. “Longer.”

  He rested his head on her thigh, the weight of it delicious, and she lifted herself to see him. His light cinnamon eyes looked back at her, mesmerizing, loving. “Then I’ll never change it.” He shifted and pressed his tongue against her too-sensitive skin and she twitched. “Oh, gosh. Oh!”

  He chuckled, tried a different angle, a more subtle approach and—“Oh—oh…” She felt suddenly greedy for more and yet reluctant to change the course. She didn’t expect it—because her body wouldn’t possibly—so she ran her hands over his muscled shoulders and tried to pull him upward. But he ignored her and then—“Oh, God,” she moaned a moment later.

  Boneless and spent, she thought distantly of bike rides as a family and beach trips and other plans for the future. Yes, she was all in for this life they would share. All in.

  With his weight comfortably on top of her, she scissored her legs around his waist. He slid against her wet flesh, groaning slightly, and she arched her hips. Inviting him, needing him.

  “Layla,” he whispered as he entered her. His muscles tightened and he paused.

  She slid her hands down the firmness of his back, cupping his buttocks and pulling him flush against her. His movements were deep and slow, and a chill covered her body. With his rhythm, he created a swell of sensations and emotion, and with the way he looked at her, she followed those feelings, heart and soul.

  When her body rose up again, she yelled this time, every inch of her clenching and responding in ways she couldn’t have predicted. He thrust a few more times, then fell apart with her name on his lips, his breath hard and fast against her hair.

  Sometime later, when they laid together on the sand, she struggled to remember something. The next thing on her never-ending to-do list. What was it? Make breakfast? Plan a wedding? The girls should have a role.

  He ran his hands through his hair and she saw his watch.

  The time.

  It was getting late. Too late.

  No more than three hours.

  “We should get back to the house.” She gathered the three stones in her hand, even though she knew they would disappear.

  “Let’s wait until morning. I’m not ready for reality yet.” He began a trail of kisses down her neck.

  “Me either, but we should go.” She wracked her brain for a reason that would motivate him. “I need to get back to a phone in case the girls need me.”

  He nodded in agreement and then spied her closed hand. “Do you have the stone?” Mason peeled open her fingers and three stones glo
wed in her palm like frozen fire.

  She poured them into his hand and he moved them around.

  “These are labradorite, you know. Stones of transformation and protection. If you believe in that sort of thing. Dixie keeps huge chunks of gemstones all over the house.”

  Layla backed into the water and swam toward the opening of the cave, anxious to get them out of the dream before it was too late and one of them ended up in a coma. He didn’t show any signs of wanting to wake up, so she weighed her options. She could scare him awake. That worked, but she hated to terrorize him like that. She wondered if she couldn’t just get him back in his own bed where he might drift out of her dream. Then he wouldn’t be startled.

  He closed his fist around the stones and followed Layla out into the open area of the lake.

  When they arrived at the grassy bank of Mason’s lake house, they gathered their clothes and redressed.

  “Back to bed?” He raised his eyebrows in a hopeful suggestion and she giggled. She’d never wanted to spend time in bed with Asher. When he was alive, she developed a habit of going to bed late and getting up early just to avoid him. But now, with Mason, she envisioned those long weekends again. Some where they might never get fully dressed.

  Dizziness curled through her and knocked her off balance. She was pushing the limits again, and there was no time to get upstairs. “Mason, we need to wake up now.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “What are you talking about?”

  Slow clapping sounded from behind Mason and they turned to find Asher walking toward them. He wore the same black pants and shirt she had seen him in when he died. His eyes were darker, haunting. Terror pressed against her chest like a boulder.

  Mason’s lake house towered behind him and the idea of him intruding in their sacred space made her feel sick.

  She jerked Mason’s arm. “Mason, wake up!”

  “Brilliant fucking show, Layla!”

  Mason cocked his head at what was clearly impossible. “Asher?”

  “Go away, Asher. You’re dead.” Guilt and fear and rage competed inside of her, but her first concern was Mason. She’d seen firsthand what could happen to someone in her dreams and she wasn’t about to lose him. Let alone to Asher.