The Ultimate Seven Sisters Collection

by M. L. Bullock

  “I think they’re lovely.”

  “That’s nice. Now what is your question, my dear?” He sat in the pew across the aisle from me, resting his gnarled hands on the back of the wooden seat in front of him.

  “It’s probably going to sound strange, especially coming from someone you don’t know, and…I must confess I am not a Catholic.”

  “We are all children of God. What do you want to know?”

  “Thank you for saying that. I am not sure God knows who I am, but it’s nice of you to say so.”

  “I have a feeling He knows all about you, young lady.”

  “Do you believe in the supernatural, Father? I mean, the world of ghosts and supernatural activity. Is it all evil? Maybe figments of our imagination?”

  He considered my question for a moment, then pointed at a nearby statue. It was the Virgin Mary holding the baby Jesus. The statue was painted in bright colors, and on her breast was painted a purple heart. “Do you see that statue?” I nodded. “Do you see the rose she’s stepping on?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Whenever you see a rose in a painting or statue of the Blessed Virgin, you should look for the secret.”

  “Secret? I don’t understand.”

  “Look carefully at her hands. Do you see anything unusual?”

  I got up from my seat and walked toward the statue. I studied Mary’s hands for a moment, then caught my breath. “She’s holding something in her hand…it looks like a pearl! What does that mean?”

  “That is the question.” He rose from the pew, walked toward the statue and studied it with me. He stood looking up at the artwork and then smiled at me. “Not even church scholars can agree on the reason for that pearl. Some say it’s a symbol of the purity of the Virgin, while others say it represents the Parable of the Pearl, and there are other more fantastic opinions with which I won’t bore you.”

  “That’s interesting, but I’m not sure what that has to do with…”

  He chuckled. “Ah, to be young again. So impatient to know all the answers. That is my point. The truth about the pearl’s meaning is a mystery. It is there, we can see it, we know it is an unusual thing and this statue is very old. Much older than even me, and that is quite old.” He smiled pleasantly. “But we don’t know what it means. You see, the world is full of mysteries, not the least of which is the subject of the supernatural. Like this pearl, it is something to be discovered and defined by each man, each woman.”

  I stared at the pearl and considered his words. He asked kindly, “Does that help you at all, or have I confused you more?”

  “Yes, it does help.” I did feel more peaceful. He didn’t answer my question, not directly, but perhaps he was right. This was a subject that had no answer, no black-and-white definition. “I’d better go now. My husband will be looking for me.”

  “I am sure he will be. Take care, and mind those steps. I would hate for an expectant mother to trip on the cathedral stairs.”

  “How did you know?” My hand flew to my stomach protectively.

  “When you get to be as old as I am, dear lady, it is easy to spot the glow on a young mother’s face.”

  I smiled and touched my flushed cheek before I turned to walk out of the church. Such a nice old man. Almost made me wish I were Catholic. I walked down the steps and out to the courtyard. I was on Conception Street near the intersection with St. Anthony. Yes, I knew this church; I just never knew the name. I turned around to get a better view of the old building and caught my breath. The place had two huge towers flanking the massive sanctuary. Round domes sat atop the towers, which must have housed the church bells. To my surprise, the gate was locked again. I couldn’t believe Father Portier had managed to close it so quickly and so quietly.

  Curious now, I walked back to the church, but it was locked up tight. A red-haired gentleman wearing green coveralls walked toward me whistling. “Need to get in there? I was just about to open up. Sorry I’m late. Hey, you’re new.”

  “Yes, I’m new, but I was just in there talking to Father Portier.”

  He pushed up his thick glasses. “What are you talking about?”

  “I was just talking to your priest, Father Portier. Older man, balding, with white hair?”

  He looked around as if someone might jump out at him. “Is this some kind of joke, lady?”

  “No joke. I swear it’s the truth. Just ask him yourself. He’s right inside.”

  With a skeptical look, the man opened the gate and stepped inside. There was no one around.

  “He rang the bells a few minutes ago. Are you going to tell me I made that up?”

  “Those bells have been on a timer since the early ’90s. Listen, I don’t know what you’re into, drugs, booze or whatever, but you need help, lady.”

  I backed away and walked out of the church. By the time I made it to the end of the sidewalk, I was already running. I didn’t stop until I reached Conception Street. When I got home I wasn’t shaking anymore. I was tired and hungry, and I had butterflies. Mostly, I was happy to have something else to think about besides Father Portier and the weird experience I’d just had.

  I walked up the sidewalk, happy to see Ashland’s truck in the driveway. What was I going to say to him, coming home in yesterday’s clothes? Sorry, babe, I passed out in a church.

  As if he could hear my thoughts, he bounded out of the house. “Thank God! Are you okay? Where have you been, Carrie Jo?” Before I could answer him, he put his arms around me and pulled me to his chest. “You had me so worried.”

  “I am sorry. I’m a jerk.” I clung to him, feeling ashamed that I had not told him the news about our child. Now was as good a time as any. “I will explain everything, I promise, but first I have to tell you something. I can’t go another minute without telling you. I should have already told you, but I was so angry. I know it was stupid. I’m so sorry.”

  “What is it?” His bright blue eyes searched mine, and he held my hands. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Ashland Stuart, you are going to be a father.”

  He dropped my hands, and his eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely. But if you don’t believe me, you can wait six and a half to seven months and see for yourself.”

  A big, beautiful smile crept across his face. He picked me up and kissed me passionately. Before I could say “Boo,” he carried me into the house. His worries had clearly vanished.

  “We’ll need a bigger house. And furniture.” He put me down and kissed me again.

  “Okay, calm down. I’ve had a rough night. That was the good news. Now I have something else to tell you. It’s about Delilah Iverson, and something else happened. I was at a church. Well, it was a gate and then a church. But Ash, I’m starving. I would love some of your cheese grits.”

  “I can take a hint. Why don’t you call Rachel and tell her you’re going to be late? She’s been almost as worried about you as I have. Why is your car at the office?”

  “It broke down. Brand-new BMW, and it won’t start. Food first, Mr. Stuart. I’ll go change if you don’t mind.” I touched his hand. “Are you sure you’re happy? We’ve never actually talked about having kids.”

  “Of course I’m happy. Aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Good. Then you go change, I’ll cook, and we’ll meet back here in ten minutes.”

  “Yes sir,” I said playfully as I walked up the stairs.

  Chapter 8—Carrie Jo

  At 9:45 p.m., I finally pressed the send button on the proposal, shooting it off to Desmond Taylor with a weary smile. I couldn’t have done it without Ashland and Rachel. Even Chip helped out by picking up the takeout and pulling up old purchase orders from our Seven Sisters job. It was definitely a team effort, and that felt good. Hopefully we would hear something positive from Mr. Taylor soon. I leaned back in my chair and sighed. What a weird forty-eight hours this had been! I’d been so busy with finalizing the prelim proposal I hardly had t
ime to mull over my supernatural encounter with the cemetery light and the friendly priest. When I retold the story to my husband over breakfast he didn’t question my sanity.

  Looking as tired as I did, Ashland began picking up our dinner remnants, empty takeout boxes and half-empty water bottles, while I closed up shop on the computer. With bleary eyes I closed the folders, remembering to save our work one last time. I was just about to shut the whole thing down when my inbox dinged. I hoped it was Mr. Taylor emailing me back to confirm that he received the file, but it wasn’t my prospective client. The email was from Alice and Myron Reed.

  “Uh-oh.”

  “What is it?”

  “I just received an email from the Reeds. I wonder what this is about.” I could tell from Ashland’s raised eyebrows that he was as suspicious as I was. Nothing good ever came from chatting with the Reeds. Since their daughter’s arrest they barely spoke to me, but I suppose I couldn’t blame them. A few months after Mia’s commitment in the state mental hospital, I got a notification from the Reeds’ attorney of a pending civil action, but then they suddenly dropped it. I had no idea what they were thinking—then or now.

  “Babe, why don’t you wait until tomorrow to read that? I’m sure it’s not anything super important.”

  I tapped my finger nervously on the mouse pad. “You are probably right, but if I don’t check it I’m going to spend all night thinking about it. I mean, what if Mia somehow got free? Wouldn’t you want to know if she might be lurking in the bushes?” I said with a sad smile.

  Ashland sat up straight and tossed the leftovers in the garbage can. “If for some reason that ever happened I’d be on the phone to the governor.” With a worried expression he added, “There’s no way that woman should be let loose on the public. Here, I can bag this garbage up in a minute. Let’s open the message now and see what is happening.”

  I waited for him to join me, and then I clicked on the email.

  Dear Carrie Jo,

  We are writing to tell you some sad news. We lost our daughter Mia this morning…

  I gasped at what I was reading. This couldn’t be true!

  Services for Mia will be held Tuesday at Grant Funeral Home in Birmingham, Alabama. We thought it was only right that we invite you to speak on her behalf, as you were her closest friend. If you cannot attend her service we understand, but please know that you always hold a special place in our hearts.

  For my part, I cannot claim to understand what my daughter was thinking when she reportedly attacked you…

  “Reportedly?” Ashland said with a scowl, but I kept reading.

  I will always remember you two as the closest of friends and sisters of the heart. Please know that Myron and I love you and hope for the best for you.

  If at any point in the future you find information about Mia’s claim, please let us know. I’m sure any light you can shed will go a long way in explaining to us what happened to our daughter.

  Please call us when you can.

  Love, Alice and Myron Reed

  “I can’t believe this.” Ashland’s hands were on my shoulder. I clicked off the computer and leaned back in the chair, looking up at him. “Can this be possible? Is she really gone?”

  “What I can’t believe is that they would ask you to speak at her funeral. Who are these people?”

  “That does seem weird—so it’s not just me.”

  He shook his head and said, “Nope. In fact, I bet my attorney would tell you that it could be a trap. Whatever you said could be used as evidence if they chose to try and sue us again.”

  “You’re right. I’m stunned that Mia is dead. I thought she was dead after she attacked me at the house. I thought they were both dead—there was so much blood and…”

  “It’s okay. You’re safe now, and she’s really gone this time.”

  I knew what he was saying was true, but it still didn’t seem real. “I don’t mean to sound morbid, but I wonder how she died.”

  “Let’s get out of here. Things might get crazy now, especially if the press hears about this. It’s best to prepare for whatever publicity firestorm this might create.”

  “It could get nuts. If Mia was still in that facility, then only one thing could’ve happened to her—suicide. I would never have imagined that kind of ending for her. She was always so strong-willed, strong-minded. I swear to you, the girl you met wasn’t the one I knew. Something happened to her, and I’m not sure what.”

  “It’s no mystery to me, Carrie Jo.”

  “What?”

  “The house got to her. Anyone who comes in contact with that house has had something happen to them. It’s like it’s cursed or something.”

  “You don’t believe in curses, Ash.”

  “Two years ago I would have agreed with you. Now I am not so sure.” He shook his head. “Are you ready to go home?” I grabbed my purse and followed him to the front door. Chip and Rachel were long gone, so I locked up the building and headed to the car.

  “Where are you going? Your car is dead, remember? I’ll have the mechanic pick it up tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, I forgot all about that.” Determined to give it a try just once more I said, “Let me just try it.” I didn’t wait for his answer; I hopped in my BMW and to my surprise it cranked right up. Either there was some glitch with my car or unseen forces were indeed at work—perhaps it wasn’t a coincidence that I ended up at that cemetery gate after all.

  Ashland pulled up beside me with a frown. “See you at home.”

  ***

  When Ashland fell asleep I slipped out of bed. It had started to rain. From the sound of it, the drops were heavy and fat, not the typical pitter-patter drops you hear in spring. Low rumbles of thunder warned of an approaching storm, and I felt an urge to watch it roll in. Mobile had no shortage of springtime storms, but we’d been in kind of a drought recently. Tonight, I could smell the rain in the air.

  After having made up from our big blowout about his dreaming, I didn’t want to risk invading his privacy again. And I couldn’t trust myself not to look. In fact, I really couldn’t help it. Just like he couldn’t control his dreams, I couldn’t control my wandering into them. Gathering up my favorite white quilt, I walked down the hall to the guest room. I flipped on the small lamp by the door just so I didn’t trip over anything, I didn’t need a lot of light to watch the storm. I shuffled across the wood floor in my socks and plopped in the comfy chaise lounge that overlooked the backyard. It wasn’t a fabulous view; there were too many trees and tall buildings to see too much below, but I could see the sky perfectly.

  I hunkered down in the chair, wrapped my blanket around me, leaned back and watched the lightning light up the sky. At first the blasts of light were subtle, just flashing through black clouds along the distant horizon. It was a beautiful sight. Then the lightning became more defined. It shot through the massive cloud deck, hitting the dark waters of the bay first and then various spots along the edges of the Port City. Thunder rolled and as it boomed and shook the house, sleep seemed impossible. As I enjoyed the scenery, I protectively rubbed my still flat stomach. I was going to be a mother. Was I ready for that? Well, ready or not, I was going to find out soon. I had no doubt that Ashland would be a good father; he was such a good person. “Good night, little one,” I whispered to my stomach. Then I thought about Mia, the sane Mia, the one who would have been delighted to be an aunt. Maybe my husband was right—somehow Seven Sisters had gotten to her, had driven her crazy. Strangely enough I couldn’t muster up a single tear.

  I rubbed my tired eyes and yawned. The gold-toned pendulum clock on the mantelpiece began to chime. I couldn’t believe it was midnight already. I was tired, but I also felt unsettled. I glanced at the side table and the worn copy of THE STARS THAT FELL. Could I really afford to stay up half the night reading a book? Well, I was the boss. I could call in if I wanted to. I had no appointments that I knew of, so I could certainly sleep late. I tossed my wild curls behind my shoulder and out of m
y face, picked up the book and turned to the worn silk bookmark.

  Okay, Delilah. Help me out here. What’s going on in your world, and does it have something to do with mine?

  Chapter 9—Delilah

  My second trip to Seven Sisters was no less impressive than my first. The more I thought of it, the more inconceivable it was that I had lived in Mobile most of my life and had never seen this house. But then again that may have been by design. I would never know if my parents, the Iversons, knew about my true identity; however, it did stand to reason that they would want to protect me. Even though my Iverson family would not have cared about what the upper crust of Mobile thought, I did care. I was left alone to fight for my future. Of course, I had choices. Nothing prevented me from moving away from Mobile and its stuffy social circles. At least I had a small fortune that I could fall back on thanks in part to both my families. Still, as I told Jackson Keene, money had nothing to do with my return to Mobile. I came to claim my name and my family. I was secretly heartbroken to learn they did not want to know me at all.

  In a strange sort of way, I felt compelled to pursue my name. Partly because, by all accounts, my mother had no choice but to send me away. She was the unhappy wife of a cruel man, a woman who had found some stolen joy in the arms of my father. I liked to think that whatever her flaws were, she loved me deeply and apparently wasn’t afraid to stand up to her tormentor when pressed to. I was hoping to learn more about her, my sister and my cousin this afternoon. I pulled up in the carriage and handed the reins to Stokes, the big man who had met us the other night. He was a man of few words and didn’t even walk me in, pointing toward the door with a grunt.

  Here in the light of day, I could plainly see that Seven Sisters wasn’t quite as grand as she used to be. She’d survived demolition during the war, but she hadn’t escaped the effects of time and all those stormy summer afternoons. The rain and humidity had left green mold on the columns, and there were loose boards on the porch and missing side rails. Still, it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be mended if someone had a mind to invest something in the place. I was curious to hear exactly what plans Karah had. Did she plan to sell the house? Deed it to a cousin? I absently wondered if I could afford to buy the place, and if I could (which was doubtable) would I be allowed to do so? I sighed as I climbed the steps carefully.