The Ghosts of Oakleigh House (Gulf Coast Paranormal Book 13)

by M. L. Bullock

  Only a few years older than me, Altima commanded a strong presence and even my father respected her opinion. She rose from her dimly lit table and closed her book firmly. My father’s consternation must be serious indeed for her to interject herself into our conversation. That was a rare thing for her. Normally, Altima would quietly leave the room and leave us to argue, but for some reason, she intervened on my behalf.

  “This does not concern you, Altima.”

  Altima picked up her book and glared at her husband, but did not cast an eye in my direction. Her mouth worked as if she wanted to say something else, but she did not. Lifting the corner of her deep burgundy gown to avoid tripping over the hem--Altima was notorious for tripping over her clothes, she clutched the book to her heart as she walked to the door. She waited as if she expected me to leave too but I refused her attempts at defusing this situation.

  Let it come to a head. Let the world know how I truly felt!

  She did not meet my gaze, but yes, I recognized the book. I had given it to her many months...no, at least a year ago. That was before I knew I loved her. Knew for sure that I would have no one else but her. My eyes met him now squarely. They were so much like his, I was so much like him- except I had all my hair and I was young. I had my life before me. A life I wanted far, far from him, but with Altima. Why? Why had he met her first? Why must I love her? She was not exceptionally beautiful or even a talented conversationalist.

  But my heart beat her name.

  If it had been any other man, I would have killed him with my bare hands just to have her. But I could not. Despite his current opinion of me, I loved him. He had not always been a violent man but love made men mad. And I had sinned against him.

  Sigmund was proof of that.

  “Agnes says you have been chasing after the housemaid, Millie. Do you deny it? How can you consider corrupting a housemaid? This is not our home, Jamie!” He plopped down in the chair and wiped his sweaty brow. “How many conquests before you feel like a man? Five? Ten? Twenty? You are not an honorable man, Jamie. I am sure you have no thought about this Millie. Tell me, Jamie. Have you abused her like the Mayweather woman?”

  I sat in the chair opposite him and poured a glass of wine. Strange that we were at blows with one another one minute and drinking wine together the next. “The maid’s name is Minnie. I was merely befriending her; she seemed a lonely little thing. I find it interesting that neither you nor his mother, care for Sigmund. You are both content to leave him in the hands of a near stranger. A housemaid at that.” Altima gasped at the accusation and her hand clutched her stomach. I drank the wine in one gulp. Time to leave now.

  “How dare you speak to me like that.” He did not strike me again, he rarely did, but he certainly wanted to do it and would if his body would have allowed it. He clenched his hands. Had he been crying? “Stay away from the maid. Prepare yourself for marriage, Jamie. We go back to Florida in a few days to see you properly married. There is no running from this; you will face it like a man. You will become a man if I have to beat you every step of the way. You will not steal the future from your sister and brother.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Altima’s slight head shake silenced me. I had done enough. Father was right. I was an unscrupulous man with a sick, twisted soul. Twisted by love denied.

  I left them alone in the stuffy parlor, my cape swirled around my shoulders. I would make no apologies, nor would I plead my case. Not to him. But I would find Altima. I would wait for her to come downstairs. We must talk!

  I was not going back to Florida. Father could bluff and bluster all he wanted. I would marry no one but Altima. And if I could not have her, I would have no one. But I would have her. I knew what I had to. What she wanted me to do.

  Finally, I would do it.

  Chapter Ten--Sierra

  “I heard a baby crying. I swear I did, Helen. That makes two of us now.” Helen’s eyes were legitimately worried but I couldn’t lie to her. I didn’t hear a thing. And of the two of us, I was the medium. This was a disturbing turn of events.

  "I did earlier but this time I heard something else but it could have been a baby. It was almost out of earshot.”

  “Let’s wait a few seconds.” I put the digital recorder on a nearby table. I didn’t move a muscle. After hearing nothing else I began our EVP session. “We think we heard your baby crying. Can we help you?” A scratching noise drew my attention to the window but it turned out to be a twig stuck on the window glass.

  “We won’t be here much longer. If you want to tell us your story, now is your chance. It might be the only chance you have. Please, come forward. I won’t hurt you. Helen won’t hurt you. We only want to help. We want to understand.” The silence grew and we played back the recorder a few times but there was nothing to hear. Maybe with the computer software amplification but probably not.

  “Why don’t you give it a shot, Helen? I’ll stay in the other room. Let’s take a kind of a divide and conquer method. Let’s set the IR here next to the audio recorder since the other camera won’t catch this room. Are you game?”

  “Yes, I would like to try. The crying was disturbing. Heartbreaking. If it was a baby it was hurting, sick maybe. I’m not sure.”

  I set the camera up and made sure I had Helen in the viewfinder. We had plenty of battery juice, thanks to Joshua. I actually forgot to check the equipment.

  “You’re good to go. Let me tell Midas what we’re up to.” Tapping the walkie-talkie I filled him in on our plan and of course, he signed off on it. Helen gave me the thumbs-up sign. “I’m right here if you need me.”

  Helen shoved her hands in her blue jeans pocket and nodded. She immediately went to work. “Baby? Sierra heard you crying. Are you lost? Are you sick?”

  I kept completely still and let her continue without interference. Helen continued to ask questions. Her warm, even voice was friendly and not fearful although I sensed that she was not completely comfortable with any of this. Bruce was the reason why she kept coming back to investigate. He was a die-hard paranormal enthusiast and he was well connected. I mean, everyone knew Bruce and he was often a panelist at paranormal conventions. There were only a few paranormal archaeologists out there. Tonight he was wearing a 19th-century hat and a pocket watch from approximately the same time period. Helen was just her beautiful self. White hair, loose and flowing. Blue jeans and a soft, gray t-shirt.

  “Is the baby’s mother here? Have you lost your baby? Do you need help finding her or him?” Another long gap of silence passed and then Helen said. “I think I am done here, Sierra. Can we scan the digital recorder? I feel very anxious.”

  “On the way,” I hurried toward her and reached for the recorder. It wasn’t where I left it next to the camera. “Where is the digital recorder, Helen?”

  “Uh, I saw you leave it there. It’s not there now?” She removed her hands from her front pockets and patted her back pockets. “I don’t have any equipment except for this flashlight. I didn’t touch any of it, I swear.” I frowned as I observed that the IR camera was in the same spot but apparently not working now. What in the heck?

  “Battery drain?” Helen suggested as she peered over my shoulder at the camera.

  “Possibly but where is the audio device?”

  We spent the next few minutes looking under, behind and around every piece of furniture in the place. Which wasn’t much because the place was pretty sparse, to begin with. But we had to be sure one of us didn’t knock it off or maybe move it without realizing we had. I did have mommy brain occasionally.

  Nope. I left it right here. Right by the camera. I tapped on the camera’s power button and was surprised that it came back on. “Shoot, Helen. Look at this. It is working fine and we’ve got footage. Let’s check it out.” We played back the camera and I studied the colors as Helen as she paced back and forth. The rest of the room was blue. Unfortunately, there was no evidence of anything else being moved and the film stopped about a minute before Helen ended t
he session. Maybe it just turned off?

  “It’s entirely possible that the camera glitched but I cannot explain what happened to the recorder. It’s about time to check in anyway. Let’s go back to the house, Helen.”

  She reached out and grabbed my arm. “Look! In the doorway, Sierra.”

  “What?” I asked dully as I realized what she was talking about.

  The digital recorder was lying on the floor right in the threshold I’d just crossed to enter the room. I couldn’t have dropped it. I would have heard it hit the floor, or at least feel it fall.

  But that’s not what happened.

  Somebody wanted to get our attention. Well, they had it. I picked up the recorder and we examined the room with the camera with no further results. “May as well give this a listen. This is definitely not a coincidence.” We scanned the file back to the start of Helen’s session and was surprised to hear the faint cry of a child. I couldn’t say if it was a baby or not but it could have been. We’d have to listen with the computer software to get better results. I also detected some whispering, like a female’s voice but it wasn’t intelligible. I couldn’t figure it out even though we listened closely multiple times. When our time was up we headed back to Oakleigh’s main house to share our findings. All had been quiet while we were gone and we sent Bruce and Midas to the Cook’s House but nothing else happened the rest of the night. A few cold spots, what sounded like a chair sliding and possible shadow were the highlights.

  By the time we left Oakleigh, I was tired to the bone. We loaded up the equipment; we couldn’t leave it up since tours were happening tomorrow. Afterward, we said our goodbyes and headed for home. Although Joshua and I flirted earlier we were so exhausted that the banter didn’t go anywhere. Except to bed where we both passed out in our underwear.

  Morning came with lots of glorious sunshine but I wanted nothing more than to stay wrapped up in my comforter like a burrito. But Joshua was up; I heard the shower running earlier but thought I was dreaming. Unfortunately for me, my husband had to go to work and our dog didn’t like waiting to go for his morning walk.

  “Give me a break. Just this once,” I pleaded with him as I tried to enjoy a bit more laziness. It wasn’t going to happen. Life moved on and I had responsibilities. “Fine,” I complained as I ignored his pleading expression and slid on some questionably clean jeans and a slouchy shirt I found in a pile of clothes in my bedroom chair. I laced up my tennis shoes, leashed up the dog and kissed Josh’s cheek. I left him alone to swear at the new coffee pot which he had difficulty operating. Instead of a cup of coffee, he got a shot of espresso. Fumble fingers kept pressing the wrong button. Poor guy. These late-night investigations were hard on Josh. He had to get up and go to work. I did not feel sorry for him though. Not much. I had to go pick up Emily and review hours of video footage.

  That had to count for something, right?

  By the time the dog finished his morning soaking of all the flowers and plants around our house and the neighbor’s yard, we headed back home. Joshua had his backpack and a woefully small cup of coffee.

  “Going to get Emily?”

  “No, I thought I’d check in at the spa and pretend to be a Kardashian. Maybe go shopping.” His response was a shrug like he didn’t care one way or another. “Of course, Joshua. Has your mother called already? She usually likes her mornings with the baby.”

  “No, she hasn’t called but I don’t know. I’m just having a crappy morning. I hate this job and...well, it’s not important. Listen, I’ll call you at lunch. You and Em going to the office? Taking Buddy with you?”

  “Yes to Em. No to the dog. Sorry about last night, hon. I love you, by the way.”

  “No apology necessary. I was just as useless. I’m going to take a nap before tonight. What time again?”

  “Eight, I think. Call me later. Be safe, Joshua McBride.”

  “Will do. Kiss me,” he said as he slapped his sunglasses on and grinned at me.

  “Why?” I asked him playfully as the dog peed on Joshua’s tire.

  “Cause I need your sweet lips on mine.”

  “Is that all you need?” I stood on my tiptoes and gave him what he asked for. Next thing I knew, he was sliding out of the truck with keys in hand. We kissed all the way to the house, like two teenagers, the dog’s leash twisting around us at least twice.

  “You’re going to be late,” I said as I unhooked the dog and tossed the leash in the foyer chair.

  “Make it worth it then, Sierra Kay.” He said as he locked the door and I slid off my jeans.

  And I did.

  Chapter Eleven--Cassidy

  “Good morning, beautiful. I’ve got the coffee ready or would you prefer ginger ale?” Midas was far too cheerful this morning but there was no sense in being a jerk about it.

  “Midas Demopolis, you spoil me. No coffee but I think I would actually like to try to eat food. I swear, I haven’t been this sick in a long time. Not as bad as yesterday though. God, I was so sick.”

  “We missed you. I missed you.”

  “Spooky experiences at Oakleigh? How is Artemis?”

  He kissed my cheek and brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “He’s going to recover but he’s unsettled. Just like Lucy. As far as the investigation goes I give it mixed reviews. We’ll know more after tonight.”

  “Hmm...You are being awful mysterious.”

  “Honest opinion? I don’t think this is going to be a one and done job and I had the weirdest experience. I can’t stop thinking about it”

  “Call me curious. What kind of experience?”

  Midas shrugged and said, “I haven’t been able to debunk this but I swear I felt a teardrop hit my face. Like there was someone crying over me. It was warm, and yeah, that sounds ridiculous but a few minutes later, maybe seconds, I don’t know, I felt lips on my cheek. Weirdness.”

  I couldn’t hide my shocked expression. “How do you know it was a teardrop just not a random drop of water?” This definitely interested me. Kissing, crying ghosts weren’t my cup of tea. Especially if the entity wanted my boyfriend’s attention.

  “No leaks. No bad plumbing. I hate to even say this...you know I don’t like this word when it comes to an investigation. This isn’t something I can put in a report and I haven’t heard of any kind of experiences like this one.”

  I grinned at him, “The F word. You’re talking about the F word, right?”

  “You know me so well. The F word--feel. I feel like it’s a woman. A dead woman.”

  “Feelings aren’t always wrong, Midas. Emotions are a natural device. Like an EMF detector or a ghost box. It’s what helps you decide which case to take, which to walk away from. Your feelings are basically intuition. You have great intuition. Trust it. If you think it felt like a teardrop then go with that.” I squeezed his hand and immediately felt an odd wave of nausea. “The lips though. Physical touch with an entity...that’s disturbing.”

  “Yeah but I don’t believe it means me harm. In fact, I kind of think it was, well...for lack of a better word, benevolent.”

  “Splashing your face with tears and kissing your face? If this was happening to me, you wouldn’t be so blasé about it. Be careful what you tolerate, Midas Demopolis. Still, that’s a change. We haven’t run into many benevolent entities lately.” My mind went back to that moment right before Jocelyn fell. And the concentrated, absolute hatred and determined aggression which had been singularly focused on Midas. And that entity had been entirely responsible for murdering Jocelyn.

  Why did I say that? Why would I bring up such a reminder of that horrible event? Again? What the hell, Cassidy?

  “Sorry,” I murmured as we sat in silence, both of us remembering Jocelyn and her selfless act. But at least he was back at it, trying to help yet another person. I was going to be supportive, that is if I didn’t barf on him.

  “I don’t think it was Jocelyn,” Midas said woodenly.

  “I didn’t think that. I wasn’t thinking that at al
l.” But now I definitely thought about it. Was Midas grasping at straws? Could this really be about that whole terrible event?

  After another awkward gap in conversation, I said, “I did manage to paint. I’m dying for you to see it. I’ve got pictures on my phone.” I swung the covers back and started to get up but a fresh wave of nausea struck me. “Oh, no. I thought it was over. Maybe not. Help me to the bathroom, Midas.”

  “I’ve got you,” he said as I put my hand over my mouth and ran for it.

  Even as I closed the door and dove for the toilet, the wave of sickness passed but I knew that it would return. Apparently, this was going to be a forty-eight-hour virus and not a twenty-four-hour bug. I hated being sick. It always felt like it was the end of the world. I wasn’t a good patient. Not at all. I waited until he tapped on the door.

  “You okay in there?”

  “No! I’m not okay!” I opened the door and leaned against the doorframe. My red hair needed a good shampooing and my clothes were askew. I can’t say why but he was looking at me like I was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. Crazy man.

  “Kill me now.”

  “Could you be pregnant?” Midas joked as he helped me back to bed and fluffed the pillows.

  “Ugh, give me back my house key,” I popped back. “No. I’m not pregnant. I have cholera or something worse. You might be investigating me if you don’t help me get back to bed.”

  Midas put his arm around me. “You know, it is a possibility. Lots of women get very ill their first trimester. The last few times we were together, we weren’t absolutely protected.”

  “Have you been watching Oprah or something?” Yep, I felt absolutely cranky and as sick as a run over dog. “May I have some ginger ale?”

  “I’ll get you some.” He left the room and I leaned back and closed my eyes. That didn’t help and neither did my sour attitude. Why make unhelpful suggestions? I did want to have children and we were going to get married, as soon as I picked a date. I was eager for the next part of my life to begin but motherhood? I was only a few years younger than Midas but sometimes he acted like it was a decade. Like he was an old man and I a nubile whatever. I wish more than anything he would stop that.