by Lyla Payne
I don’t respond, which tells him everything he needs to know.
“Ah, you’ve found out my dirty little secret, too.”
“I don’t think going through a rough time when you were a kid counts as a dirty little secret.”
“That’s because you and I live in two vastly different worlds.” He shakes his head and it travels to his shoulders, as though he’s casting off bad memories. “Anyway…wanting to die was kind of what Nan and I had in common.”
It hasn’t escaped me that he’s not answering my question about whether Nan actually killed herself. He falls silent as we pull onto the drive to Drayton Hall, and there’s not another way for me to ask the same question for the third time in a row.
We pull past the tree where Nan died. Brick refuses to look out the window, swallowing hard once, then twice more as he parks next to my Honda.
I put my hand on the door handle, closing my eyes. If I’m going to drop this—and I should drop this, no question—this is going to be my last chance to find out the truth. “Do you know what happened to her?”
He stares at me, not bothering to hide the pain in his aching gaze. There’s defiance there, too, which is more familiar, but he’s different tonight. Softer. His voice is low in response but still firm. “She died, Gracie. Nan was my only friend at the time and she came out here with a piece of rope, determined to kill herself. Whatever you think you know, whatever you think you saw or you’re hoping to find out, you should forget it. You think I’ve been an asshole to you? My mother is no joke. If you cross her, especially now, there’s no telling what kind of havoc she’s going to wreak in your life. Your relationship with my brother, for starters, but I’m guessing there are things you care about more than him.”
“Like about my cousin’s unborn baby, the one you’re trying to give back to the people who raised the abusive monster who almost killed her?”
He flinches. “Jake wasn’t always… No, you know what? No excuses. Jake was an asshole and his parents aren’t much better. But I have a job to do. It’s not always fun.”
I don’t envy him that job. It’s not something I would ever choose or excel at but someone has to do it. I guess. Because of the Constitution and everything.
He’s been halfway normal tonight, but forgiving the amount of asshole he’s thrown my way since we first met isn’t an offer that’s on the table, especially given the situation with Amelia. The best I can do in the way of acknowledgment is a shrug.
“Your mom is scary as hell, and I have no desire to put any of my friends or family in harm’s way just to satisfy my curiosity.”
“There’s a good girl.”
I bristle, unable to let it lie. “Except it’s more than curiosity. Believe me or not, but Nan showed herself to me because she wants help. She needs me to do something, and the only thing she’s shown me clearly is that she didn’t kill herself.”
Brick goes totally still, staring out the windshield into nothing. This time when he speaks, it’s a familiar tone. It’s cold and threatening and disdainful. “You’re never, ever going to know the truth about what happened out here that night, Gracie. And no one else will, either.”
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, when I hear Amelia rattling around the kitchen and cursing rather loudly, I pry my eyelids open and stumble down to join her, despite the fact that it’s only six a.m. My cousin has trouble sleeping at this point in her pregnancy, which sounds like a nightmare. Actually, after living in close quarters with a gestating woman, the majority of the pregnancy experience seems like a nightmare to me.
I had my own nightmare last night when I was wide-awake, and more than anything, I need to talk to Millie about what might be possible with Mama Lottie’s help before we both go to work.
My chest tightens at the thought of going back to Drayton Hall today. It’s not as though Cordelia—or any of the Draytons—will be there, but now that I know Sean’s on her little snitch patrol, it’s hard to feel as though there’s anyone who isn’t. Jenna seems so genuine, so friendly, but she’s devoted to that place. If getting to keep working on it and finishing her pet project means reporting to the boss, it’s easy to see her giving in.
Amelia’s eyebrows go up when I shuffle into the kitchen. “Whoa. Is this bizarro world? Are you bizarro Grace?”
“You’re even funnier before sunrise.” I grab the coffeepot and fill it up with water, then dump grounds in indiscriminately. There aren’t enough in the world to scare my brain into action right now.
“Are you seriously going to taunt me with the smell of coffee when all I can have is this stupid herbal tea?”
“Sorry. You’re the one who wanted kids so bad. I doubt this is the last time he’s going to make your life inconvenient.”
“You’re horrible.” She’s smiling, but it looks distracted as she sits at the kitchen table. A mug steams in front of her and her gaze is aimed out the window, melancholy crowding the happy yellow kitchen.
I slide into the chair across from her once my coffee’s done and properly doctored. What Daria and I did manage to learn last night feels like good news, even framed by so much unknown, and I’m desperate to give Millie something hopeful to hold on to. “So, remember the ghost that showed up the night Beau got bitten by that snake? The one who seemed like she was trying to help me?”
“She didn’t do a very good job,” Amelia grumbles, staring down into her cup.
“All things considered, she accomplished quite a bit for a dead woman.” Cold grips my spine at the memory of her killing that snake. If she can reach through the shroud separating the dead from the living to murder a snake, how much power could she have over human beings?
Enough to save us?
“Anyway,” I continue, concerned her attention has wandered. “It turns out she is—er, was—a voodoo practitioner. Her name was Mama Lottie. She helped the Draytons she served with several different things and people from all over the county sought out her expertise.”
“Oh?” Her tone reveals zero interest.
It annoys me, so I press ahead. “I talked to Odette the other day, too, while Beau was in the hospital, and she says it’s possible that this Mama Lottie feels compelled to fight against the darkness of the curse they put on Anne all those years ago. That’s what Daria and I went to find out.”
“That’s nice.”
My frustration boils over. “Amelia. I’m telling you there’s a chance we can find out how to break the curse. Banish the nightmares and the sleepwalking and the random venomous snakes. Get on with our lives. Why are you acting like I’m telling you I think we should clean out the attic this weekend?”
“My parents called last night after you left. They’ve talked to about two dozen lawyers and no one will take my case.”
“What? Why?” The defeated air about her tries to infect me, shrivels the tiny scraps of hope being nurtured. “You have money. They’re lawyers. What’s the issue?”
“No one wants to take on a losing case, Grace. They don’t think there’s any way to beat the Middletons, not with their attorneys and the fact that, you know, I murdered my husband and have since been hospitalized on suicide watch and have been seeing a shrink.”
It would be easy to let her convince me there’s no reason to fight, but this woman is not my cousin. This is not the woman who’s wanted to be a mother more than anything since we were kids ourselves, who never let anyone quit anything, not ever.
I slam my hand down on the table. Even the clatter of our cups and the slosh of liquid onto the table does nothing to startle her out of her listlessness. “Amelia Anne Cooper. Snap the fuck out of this funk.”
“Why? What’s the point?”
“The point is that those assholes are not going to get their hands on your kid. The point is that they won’t be able to protect him, but if we can get some help from Mama Lottie, we can.”
“Are you even listening to yourself? Get help from a goddamn ghost who practiced voodoo when
she was alive two hundred years ago? You sound crazier than me!”
We glare at each other, chests heaving, neither willing to give in. It takes all my common sense to control the wild beat of my heart, to remind myself of everything she’s been through—that we’ve been through—and come at this with a calmer tone. “Millie, I know it sounds crazy. We both know that. But we also both know what’s happening. This woman can help us. We should let her, and then we can go from there.”
My conversation with Brick last night, while frustrating and strange, gave me a tiny light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel feeling as far as the court case goes. If the Middletons’ attorneys don’t believe in them, that means there are edges to dig at. Which means we might be able to uncover some dirt of our own. If we can find a lawyer.
I reach across the table and put my hand over hers. Amelia flips up her palm and grabs on, holding on for dear life so tight it pinches my skin. As long as she’s holding on to me and I’m not letting go, there’s a way to get through all this. There has to be.
“Don’t give up, Millie. Jack needs you. I’ll talk to Beau this morning about finding a lawyer that will take the case and be kick-ass. I know he’ll be able to help us.” I swallow, thinking about how I’m also going to have to tell him what happened last night.
Speaking of last night, I should probably also make sure poor Daria got out of jail. Brick might have seemed different, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have left her there.
“Okay. Okay, Grace.” Tears fill her eyes and her other hand goes to her belly, which is getting rounder every single day.
“Okay. Until the end, Millie, remember?”
She nods, biting her lip. “Until the end.”
I give her hand one more squeeze and then let go, downing the rest of my coffee. “I’m going to make a few phone calls and then go face the music at Drayton. You take a shower and get to work. I’ll be back to help in a few more days.”
“Good. I’m tired of being the smiling face out front.”
“Not going to lie, that’s the hardest part of the job.”
She rinses out her cup in the sink and heads upstairs. I pick up my phone and wander out onto the deck, calling Daria’s cell.
“Graciela.”
“Daria.” Relief turns her name into a whoosh of air. “You’re alive.”
“Don’t be dramatic. I was in a prison cell, not a medieval torture chamber.”
“How did you get out?”
“I have friends, you know. Thanks a lot for leaving me behind, though.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice, and anyway they said they’d called about you. I’m really sorry about everything that went down. I had no idea they had security cameras or that she would care that we were there after hours.” I pause, waiting for her to tell me it’s okay but she doesn’t. Honestly, Daria doesn’t seem like the kind of person to hold a grudge, and there are bigger issues at stake. “We have to go back. I’ll figure out how and when, but I need to know what Mama Lottie wants in exchange for helping me with this curse.”
The pause on the other end of the phone goes on forever. “You need to tell me everything that’s going on. That woman… I’ve never encountered such a strong spirit. She could hurt us if she wanted. Worse, maybe. There has been some spooky shit put in my path since I started hearing things that weren’t there when I was four years old, and at this point, not much scares me. But voodoo? It scares the shit out of me, Graciela, and it should scare you, too.”
“Trust me, it does. But Mama Lottie scares me less than what’s hanging over my head right now.”
“Come out here. Sit down with me, have a drink, and tell me everything. That’s the only way I’ll consider helping you.”
“Fair enough.” I check my watch. Beau’s going to be up and leaving for work soon, so if I’m going to catch him, it needs to be now. “I’ll let you know when I can, but it will be soon.”
We sign off. It takes me five minutes to swap out my pajama shorts and tank top for a bra, fresh underwear, a sundress, and sandals, and another ten to brush my teeth, throw on some makeup, and tie my hair up. The minute my finger hovers over the phone to call Beau, everything inside me wants to see him instead. Kiss him, hug him, and remind myself of all the very good reasons to not let his family get the better of me.
All the reasons to ignore Nan’s pleas for help and consider my own happiness instead.
He answers the door ten minutes later, looking devastatingly handsome in his navy blue suit, white shirt, and lavender tie. Before he can get a word out, I throw myself into his arms, forcing him to catch me, and kiss him as though I’m going to die if I don’t.
Surprise melts into a lusty growl seconds later and he picks me up, carrying me backward into the house. I reach out and slam the door behind us, unwilling to let my lips fall away from his for even a second, then go for his tie. The buttons on his shirt go next, then his belt and another button, this time at the top of his pants.
We haven’t said a word and that’s fine. Beau and I talk too much.
He puts me down. The moment my toes touch the floor his hands go to my hips, pushing me until my back collides with the front door. My dress bunches in his palms as he slides my dress up to my waist, then pushes my underwear toward the floor in one swift movement.
My arms go back around his neck, and he lifts me up, hands under my butt. Somewhere in there his pants dropped around his ankles and a contented sigh escapes me the moment our bodies join, as though it’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for my whole life.
Beau’s mouth leaves mine, lips trailing along my jaw and downward until his face is buried in my neck. His breath raises gooseflesh on my skin, and the sexy feeling of my back pressed between the coolness of the front door and the hard heat of my boyfriend’s body combines to make me lose control much faster—and with more gusto—than normal.
He’s not far behind, fingers digging into the bare flesh of my ass as he holds me in place against him. His knees buckle and his groan travels in delicious tingles down my spine. When he pulls away, still holding me so he can look into my face, he’s chuckling.
“Well, damn, if that wasn’t the best greeting I’ve ever gotten in my entire life.”
I kiss him, slow, trying to draw out the fabulousness of the moment. “I like being at the top of your list, Mr. Mayor.”
He sets me back down and we gather our clothes, putting ourselves back together. Reaching out to touch each other as often as possible.
“I’ve got an eight thirty appointment, but there’s coffee in the kitchen. Have a cup?”
The clock on my phone says it’s a little before eight, so we have a few minutes. “Sure.”
He prepares my cup the way I like it, heating the milk in the microwave before delivering it to me at his huge center island. Beau slides onto the stool next to me, one hand on my knee as he sips from his own mug. “Is there a reason for this early-morning visit? Someone I should thank for my good fortune?”
His hazel eyes sparkle. He’s just so damn happy. It infects me the opposite way Amelia’s mood did this morning and gives me exactly what I came here to find. Peace. Comfort. Home.
Love.
But there are other reasons I came here, and it’s time to stop pretending there aren’t.
“Actually, I was hoping you might have a friend who would take Amelia’s custody case. All the firms her parents have consulted in Charleston claim they have conflicts of interest, but really they don’t want to take on your family. Or Jake’s.”
Beau nods, his expression growing serious. “Sure. I can make some calls. Everyone deserves a good lawyer, and lucky for you, I know a heap of them. Some of them even have backbones.”
“Good.” I take a sip from my cup, then another, putting off the inevitable a little longer. Finally, I give him a look that communicates what’s to come isn’t going to be the easiest.
“Oh dear. I’m guessing the favor was the simple part of this talk.”
&nbs
p; “Kind of. Your mother bailed me out of jail last night and then gave me a major talking-to about Nan before making your brother drive me home.”
He’s silent for a minute but it’s a lot to take in. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“She literally wouldn’t let me. Not at the police station and not at the house. When I got home I was so tired and it was so late. You were the first person I wanted to see this morning.”
“Yes, and we can thank God for that,” he murmurs, heady desire flickering in his gaze. “I’m sorry. Did you say she bailed you out? What happened?”
“I was out at Drayton Hall late, with Daria…remember?” He nods. “I didn’t realize there were security cameras. They called in trespassers.”
“She didn’t press charges?”
“No.”
“But she threatened you. If you don’t stop asking questions about the Nan thing.” This time, I nod. He frowns. “I can’t say I’m surprised. What did Brick say?”
“That it’s in the past, nothing can be righted by bringing it up now, and no one else will ever know what happened that night.” I swallow back the desire to defend the ghostly girl, to suggest that there seems to be a good chance that Brick himself knows what happened that night. “She’s right. I mean, she’s not right, and I’m sure you know her threatening my future and my family really sticks in my craw, but Nan’s dead. I can’t justify risking what we have and Amelia’s happiness and who knows what else.”
He stares at me for a long time, reaching out to hold on to my hands at some point. There’s softness to the moment, an acceptance that hasn’t visited us before now. It feels like being wrapped in actual love.
“Thank you, Gracie Anne.”
“For what? Embarrassing myself in front of your family again?”
“No.” He smiles. “For putting us first. But mostly for putting yourself first. I think it’s admirable, what you’re doing with these ghosts, I do, but you’re the most important thing to me. You need to be happy.”
