by Ciana Stone
"That's a little melodramatic, isn't it?"
Lula smiled and sipped from her glass. "You'd think. But it happened. I didn't even want to get out of the car. I begged my dad to put me on a bus and let me go back home and live with Eric, but he wouldn't listen.
"So, we moved into that house, and I spent the next three years living with the dead."
"Say what?"
She looked at him. "You've heard the stories about New Orleans, right? The haunted places? The Voudoun practitioners, zombies, the festival of the dead and so on?"
"Sure. It's part of the tourist appeal."
"Only it's not. And for those who were born with Duval blood, the dead are all too real and often all too present."
"So, you're telling me you see dead people?"
"Sometimes, yes."
"And tonight?"
"Tonight, I saw the one who made the journey with me to Cotton Creek."
"A dead person came with you?"
"A dead child, to be exact. She's probably five or so, has blue eyes, long curly blonde hair and always wears the exact same outfit—an above the knee floral print cotton dress with a Peter Pan collar, white ankle socks, and patent-leather shoes."
"That doesn't really mean anything to me—the clothing. Is it contemporary?"
"Oh my god!" Lula jumped up so fast, she almost sloshed moonshine from her glass. "Why didn't I recognize that? You're brilliant!"
"I am?"
"Yes. The dress, it's not contemporary at all. So maybe if I can figure out where it dates from, I can check county records for girls who died within a ten year or so period."
Lula sat back down and smiled at Lincoln. "I'm so glad I talked to you. I was starting to think this kid was leading me on a wild goose chase."
"So, you really came all this way chasing a ghost?"
Damn. Lula hated lies, but there were things she was honor bound not to discuss, like the real reason she was in Cotton Creek.
"Not exactly chasing, but I did agree to help."
"Why?"
"Because it's what I promised to do for penance." She turned her gaze to the fire, loathe to look at him and see disbelief written on his face.
"Pardon?"
"It's how I get even."
"For what?"
"Not saving my family when Katrina hit."
There was such a long moment of silence that she was afraid to look at him. When he spoke, it almost startled her.
"How did you survive, and they didn't?"
There it was, the question she hated to answer. "Because I wasn't there. I was in Georgia with my brother and his family. I'd just returned from a competition in Atlanta– gymnastics, and was visiting with him before returning home. We heard about the hurricane and tried to talk my family into leaving New Orleans, but my dad was convinced it would be fine. His mother insisted that the house would stand against anything. That house had been in the family for generations and had withstood hurricanes before."
"Well, you can hardly blame yourself for them refusing to leave."
"Oh, yes, I can. You see, my grandfather came to me and told me quite clearly that I needed to go get them, make them leave or they were going to die. I told my dad, but he wouldn't listen, and I was selfish, as well. I didn't want to drive into a hurricane or get stuck there because he was stubborn.
"Eric said flat out he wouldn't go and didn't want me to go either. So, I didn't heed the warning, and they died. My father, mother, sister, and grandmother. And it's my fault."
Lincoln was out of his chair before the last word was spoken. He pulled her to her feet and put his hands on top of her shoulders. "Listen to me, Lula. You aren't responsible. They were adults, knew the risk and ignored the warnings. You can't go through life blaming yourself."
"You can if your grandmother keeps showing up to remind you that it is your fault."
"Fuck that old dead bitch."
Lula giggled despite the seriousness of the moment. "If only I could feel that way. But I can't, Lincoln. Maybe she's right. I know I was a coward. I didn't want to be within five hundred miles of that storm. I knew if I went, I'd die, and I wasn't ready. So, she's right. I didn't do everything I could."
"I disagree, but I won't fight with you about it since that's something you're going to have to learn to overcome. But what does that have to do with a child leading you here, and doing penance?"
Lula sighed. "Okay, scoff if you want, but according to my grandmother, if I want the curse lifted then I—"
"Hold on, curse?"
"Yes."
"From who?"
"Who do you think? My grandmother."
"Wow, nothing says love like a curse. What exactly is the curse?"
"She said that until I make recompense, I will not know true love, only empty passion."
"And you believe that?"
"I'd like to say that I don't, but my life is a pretty good testament to the contrary. Why do you think I haven't had sex with you? I mean come on. If I were going to jump any man, it would be you. But I swore when I headed here that I wasn't going to do that anymore. The next man I have sex with is going to be one I have genuine feelings for. Not just lust."
"Wow, was I just insulted?"
"No! No, not at all. I like you. You know that. But I don't love you. How could I? I don't even know you."
"It's okay, I get it. Still, let's get back to the kid and the penance."
"Fine. I've solved two murders, and now I have a ghost of a child who can't cross over because of something that involves her sister and Christmas. I don't know if she was murdered, died by accident or what, but I have to solve the mystery. And then I'm three for four, and I only have one more to save so that my grandmother will go away and leave me the hell alone."
"You really believe that?"
"I do."
"Fine, then I'll help you. Where do we start?"
"Hold on, you'll help me?"
"Sure, what are friends for?"
"Are we? Friends, I mean."
"I think so. At least I want us to be."
"Me too."
"Then partners?" He stuck out his hand.
"Absolutely, Thor."
"So, we're back to Thor. Does that mean I get another kiss?"
Lula smiled and looked up at the sky. "Well, I don't know. You never know what magic the night might bring."
Chapter Ten
Lincoln eased away from Lula and propped up on the pillows, watching as she rolled toward him, feeling with one hand. It landed on his stomach, moved up to his chest and then down to the top of his thigh where it settled, warm against his skin.
He smiled and watched Lula as she slept. They'd stayed up all night, searching for images of children's clothing to try and determine what period her ghost had lived, and if the clothing was perhaps specific to a particular ethnic group or area of the country.
As it turned out, the clothing matched the style worn in the 1930's, which meant whatever family the child had would either be very old or dead by now. Still, they had more than what they'd started with, and he was glad.
He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he liked Lula. Sure, he wanted her. Hell, what man wouldn't? She was sexy, beautiful, exotic, along with uninhibited and a lot of fun to be with. It'd been a long time since he'd been attracted to a woman for more than sex and even though it stung his ego a bit that she wasn't quick to jump into bed with him, he didn't mind slowing things down.
How long had it been since he'd slept with a woman, held her in his arms and felt her press against him, without anything sexual happening? Honestly, he didn't remember a single time that'd ever happened. Until now.
Sleeping with Lula felt...right. They fit, and there was no discomfort. It surprised him how much there was about her that felt right, and how much he was enjoying getting to know her. Ghosts and all.
"Hey," she said when she opened her eyes. "How long did I sleep?"
"Couple of hours. I just woke a few minutes ago."
&nbs
p; "Are you hungry?"
"I could eat."
"Me too. Want to help me fix breakfast?"
"Sure."
"Okay, just let me pee and brush my teeth. Oh, I probably have a spare toothbrush."
"I brought my own."
"Okay. You can go first if you want."
"I'm good, you go ahead."
"Works for me." She gave his thigh a squeeze and threw back the sheet. Lincoln admired the view as she rose. Wearing a pair of panties and a cropped off tank top, she was the kind of sexy that could turn a man's thoughts to a whole other kind of hunger.
He forced his mind from those thoughts and after hearing the toilet flush, rose and reached for his jeans. "Hey, I thought that we could visit some of the old graveyards in the area and see if we spot any gravestones for children. We could take the bike. If you like to ride, that is?"
"Are you kidding?" She appeared at the door, holding a toothbrush in one hand and toothpaste in the other. One look at him and she whistled. "Damn, Thor. That's a sight that turns a woman's mind to sinning and on a Sunday morning, no less. But yes, I'd love to do that, and you know I purely love to ride."
With that, she turned and went back into the bathroom, leaving Lincoln holding his pants and wondering just what kind of riding it was she purely loved.
An hour later, he was no closer to an answer, but had enjoyed a home-cooked breakfast and was headed out of her house to his truck. They were going to go to his house and take his motorcycle out.
Lincoln loved riding and today was a perfect day for it. Having Lula's lush body pressed up against his back was an added perk. They searched four graveyards they'd found locations for on the internet but came up empty-handed.
"Could she be leading me on a wild goose chase?" Lula asked as they walked back to where the bike was parked.
"You said you'd solved two murders?"
"Yes."
"On your own, or with help?"
"You mean from the police?"
"Or the victims."
"Oh, well the victims, yes. The first was when I was twenty, and it was a girl a year older than me who everyone thought had run away with a guy just passing through town. But I saw her one night when I was on my way home from college. It was about a month after she disappeared when I went to spend the weekend with Eric and his family."
"Saw her?"
"Yes. It was late, almost ten and I was low on gas, so I stopped to fill up and get a soda, something with caffeine and sugar to keep me going. I filled up the tank, went inside, got my drink and a candy bar, paid and returned to my car.
"That's when I realized I wasn't alone. She was in the passenger seat."
Lincoln took a seat on the parked bike. "What did you do?"
"After nearly peeing my pants, you mean? I asked who she was."
"And?"
"And she told me her name and asked me to help her get home."
"Did you?"
"Yes."
"How?"
This was the part of the tale Lula wasn't keen on sharing, mainly because it meant remembering and to her, that was the same as reliving. "Well..."
Lula stuck her drink in the cupholder that hung on the door and tossed her purse onto the seat occupied by the girl who'd identified herself as Sandy Williamson. Sandy's body didn't prevent the purse from landing squarely on the seat. The sight of the bag and Sandy's slightly transparent form somehow bugged Lula, so she focused on Sandy's face..
"I'll help you if I can, Sandy. But I don't know what it is you want."
"I want you to tell my folks where I am. What happened to me."
"Okay, but I don't know so—"
Lula shook herself back to the present. She wasn't willing to relive what happened next. "Before I could figure out what the heck was going on, I was Sandy. On the night she died. She'd snuck out of her house to go meet up with some guy she'd recently started flirting with. He wasn't a local. She met him at the drive-in burger joint in town.
"He was handsome, told her he'd traveled all over and the thing he wanted most out of life was to find someone to share his passion for travel. Not some woman who was only interested in material things, but a woman who relished adventure and knew how to live in the moment.
"She lapped that right up, fancying herself to be just that woman. So, when he asked her to meet him, she said yes before the words were fully out of his mouth. He picked her up, shared whiskey with her and drove her out onto some old dirt road.
"He said they were going on a little local adventure and he'd show her something she never dreamed of. She didn't even think to question it when he stopped the car. And when he kissed her, she thought it was just a prelude to something wonderful.
"Wonderful it was not. He raped and killed her, right there in that car. Then he dumped her body in a shallow pond in the woods and drove away.
"I knew where it was, so I drove back to the store, used the pay phone and made an anonymous call to the police to tell them where to find her."
"But you didn't tell her parents?"
"No. The police did though. I heard about it on the news. They offered a reward for any information leading to the arrest of whoever was responsible. I remembered his name, from the time I relived what happened to her, and again, I made an anonymous call and gave the name to the police.
"They found him, and there was still evidence in his car, along with something he'd kept of Sandy's."
"What?"
"Her eyes. He had them in a jar in his closet. With four other sets."
"Sick."
"Yes. But Sandy's at peace now and her parents feel that at least they got justice, so that was one life I'd made up for."
"And this child. Do you get the feeling that something awful happened to her?"
Lula considered it. "No. I mean I know something happened, or she wouldn't still be stuck here, but it doesn't feel like it was an act of violence. I think whatever it was, she was terrified, though and that really concerns me because I'm not sure how I'd handle having to relive something like that with her. And I don't know what to make of this one, to be honest."
"Then I guess we just keep looking and maybe we'll discover who she was."
"We?" Lula walked over and positioned herself between his legs.
"Yeah, we." He pulled her in more snuggly, and she looped her arms around his neck. "I said I'd help, and I meant it."
"Back to Asgardian God status, eh?"
Lincoln smiled. "What's with you and the Asgards?"
She made a show of looking around then answered in a stage whisper. "I'm a comic world geek."
"As in comic books and superheroes?"
"As in. Maybe that's why I'm so mesmerized by you. You've got the look."
"Hardly."
Lula lost her teasing tone. "Yeah, you do, and you know it. And before you protest, it's okay, I get it, Lincoln. You've been a player for so long you don't know how not to be and it's not like you set out to break hearts, but you do, anyway. And that bothers me a bit because I don't want to end up joining that club of women you've tried and discarded."
"That's a bit insulting."
She could tell he was angry, and she was okay with that. It was time for straight-up, pull- no-punches honesty. At least about where they stood in terms of their relationship, or lack thereof.
"I know, and I wish I could say I'm sorry, but I'm being honest here. You get to me and every time I'm around you my resolve weakens because I'm betting the sex would be amazing."
"I bet so, too." His tone and the look he gave her were nothing less than calculated seduction.
"God, you're good at that. And on that we agree. But I meant what I said, and I guess that's really what worries me. I don't want to have sex with someone I don't care about, and I care more about you every day. Which means I'm far more vulnerable to being hurt than if I'd just had casual sex with you."
He was silent for a long time, just sitting there looking at her. When he did speak, the tone of his voice wa
s one she'd not heard, and it took her a moment to recognize it. This was Lincoln without the filters.
"There's nothing about the way I feel for you that's casual, Lula. Nothing. Yeah, I've been with a lot of women and no, I've never fallen for any of them. But you..." He shook his head and looked away. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. "You get to me in a way no one else has. Just holding you to sleep was enough and that's never even been something I wanted. I either send the woman away, or I leave.
"But you—" he looked at her. "You, I want to hold. I want to hear you breathe and watch you sleep and see the way your eyes brighten and your lips curve in a smile when you wake and see me. You get to me, Tallulah Christmas and I don't quite know what to do about it."
"Neither do I, but I hope you don't walk away."
That much she could say with complete honesty. There was more she could have said. Like the fact she wanted to share more than a kiss with him, that she loved the way he held her when they slept last night and could imagine doing that every night.
But she couldn't tell him those things because she'd not been entirely forthcoming with him about why she was in Cotton Creek. Yes, the little girl had appeared and had been her companion, and Lula was committed to helping that little spirit.
It just wasn't her primary purpose, and that was something she couldn't tell anyone. Not even a man she'd like to build a relationship with.
"I didn't have any plans to."
"Good." She started to lean in and kiss him, but his phone rang.
"Sorry," he pulled it from his pocket and answered. "Hey, Wiley. What's up?" He cut his eyes a Lula. "Lula and I have been riding this afternoon. Yeah, sure, let me ask."
He lowered the phone. "Wiley and Molly are having a cookout. Want to join? Her mother, Mercy will be there and Mercy's friend Netta, along with Reese's friend who's staying with Mercy."
"Sure, why not? I've heard so much about Mercy from Reese and Charli that I'm kinda eager to meet her."
"Cool." He raised the phone to his ear. "We're in. What time and what can we bring? You got it. See you then."
"So?" She asked when he pocketed his phone.
