by Skye Taylor
The drive up to the main house was long and straight and lined with huge magnolia trees. They were certainly old but not as old as the plantation itself. Bree snapped several photos of the long tunnel the trees made. In another month they would all be in blossom. She’d have to come back and take more pictures then.
When she reached the end of the magnolia tunnel the drive forked into a loop that surrounded a horribly overgrown mess that must once have been a lush green lawn punctuated by raised gardens. Bree crossed the gravel drive and strode into the tangle of tall grass and wildflowers. In the first raised garden she came to, roses fought for space with the wild growth. They were loaded with buds, and they too would blossom soon.
She took another twenty or so shots of the tumbled fieldstone walls and struggling roses, then moved on toward the house itself, stopping every few feet for another angle of the house. It was a grand place, with a wide veranda that ran around all three sides that she could see. Attached under a rotting breezeway was a summer kitchen to the left. A matching breezeway arced around on the right to another smaller building. There was no chimney, and Bree couldn’t guess what it might have been.
The drive widened directly in front of the house, and a spur ran off down the gentle slope toward the ruined barn Bob had taken photos of. Bree took photos of all the buildings in sight, then stepped up onto the veranda and crossed it to peer into the long windows.
All the furnishings had been removed years earlier, leaving only pale patches to mark where carpets had once been. The fireplaces were enormous, tall enough in one of the rooms that Bree thought she could probably stand up inside. The front hall was vast with a curving staircase to the second floor. Bree rubbed a circle in the dirt coating the window with the tail of her shirt. What a glorious place this must have been.
She tried the door, but a new lock had been installed, and it held firm. So, she followed the veranda around to the right, then remembered it actually went entirely around the building. At every new window she paused and checked to see what she could see from this new vantage point. A ladies’ sitting room, perhaps? Smaller than the main parlor.
The library was obvious by its tall bookshelves that lined two walls. One window opened toward the unidentified outbuilding, and the other overlooked another tangle of overgrown grass and weeds. Stewart Road cut through the expanse, and beyond that the Stewart River flowed, its surface glittering in the afternoon sun.
Taking a moment to enjoy the view, she sat down on the edge of the veranda and dangled her legs over the side. If she squinted, she could see the ocean off to her left. That’s where Will would be, helping Sam to fly his kite. Maybe Zoe had been right about Sam needing a man in his life. Her warning not to mess things up for Sam just because his mother wasn’t ready for a relationship had irked at the time. But Zoe had been right about that too.
Bree sighed. If only the attraction she felt for the man wasn’t so hard to ignore. She didn’t want to fall head over heels in love again. She didn’t want to be that vulnerable. But there was no pretending the feelings Will’s presence aroused didn’t affect her. His smile made her heart jump, and his touch did a whole lot more. His thoughtfulness messed with her mind even more than the physical desire.
She scrambled to her feet. Thinking about Will had totally distracted her from her mission. She had things to do.
Bree hurried toward the next long window. This was obviously the dining room considering the massive chandelier that hung over the space a table would have occupied. A doorway led into what appeared to be a pantry where dishes and cutlery might have been stored. A rear staircase led off the hall at the back of the house as well, and another new lock had been installed on the door that opened out to the river side of the mansion.
Next time she’d be sure to ask for the keys so she could tour the inside.
Bree stepped off the veranda and strode toward the presumed kitchen. That building was not locked. She pushed the door open with difficulty. The hinges needed oiling. The only window no longer had any glass in it, and the place was littered with an odd collection of rubbish. In lieu of a flashlight, Bree dug her cell phone out of her pocket and turned on the flash app. A huge pile of two-liter bottles filled one corner. She started to pick one up to inspect the remaining contents, then thought better of it without gloves to protect herself from bacteria. What looked like used coffee filters were scattered around, some on the stone ledge that ran along one side, more on the floor.
Bree had a bad feeling about the refuse but didn’t know why. Maybe it was the odd smell. She backed hastily out of the old kitchen and headed back across the veranda and down on the other side. Nothing about that building gave her a clue to its possible use. There were no windows and only a row of shelves across one end. They seemed too far apart and too deep for storage of food. Besides, that would have made no sense with the kitchen all the way on the other side. A totally different stench made this room unpleasant. It smelled as if animals had once lived there. Perhaps wild ones still did?
As she returned to the daylight, long shadows creeping across the grass caught her attention. How had it gotten so late? She hadn’t even checked the slave quarters yet. For a moment, she stood torn by indecision. Will and Sam might return home at any moment, but she really wanted to check out the rest of the outbuildings. She turned toward the area she knew the quarters had been in.
They were pretty much as Bob had described them, just remnants of the wooden walls with no roofs. The bricks did surprise her. Somehow the idea of bare dirt floors was what she’d had in mind, but the crumbling brick foundations made that seem unlikely. There must have been wooden floors. She shot several more photos before the creepy sensation of being watched hit her.
She whipped around, but no one was there. Slowly, she turned in a full circle, squinting into the lengthening shadows. Nothing moved, but the hair on the back of her neck still twitched.
“There’s no one here,” she told herself sternly. But the feeling didn’t go away.
Briskly she hurried back to the gravel drive and retraced her steps down the long drive to where she’d left her car. By the time she reached it, she was running. Embarrassed even though there was no one to see her hasty retreat, she unlocked her car and dropped into the seat. She sat there, trying to catch her breath and assure herself she’d been entirely alone the whole afternoon.
Chapter 12
“YOU WENT WHERE?” Alarm bells went off in Will’s head.
“I went up to the Jolee Plantation to take pictures.” Enthusiasm filled Bree’s eyes, and he could hear the excitement in her voice. “We’re going to restore it and turn it into a showplace that all of Tide’s Way can be proud of.”
“You have no idea who or what you might run into up there. It’s not safe.” A chill hitched its way up his spine.
“The place is run down and abandoned with a lot of trash around, but I don’t see what’s so bad about me going up there. The ghosts can’t hurt me, if there really are ghosts there.”
“It’s not ghosts I’m worried about.” Will’s anxiety ratcheted up another notch. “What kind of trash?”
“Just some old soda bottles and coffee filters. I thought it was kind of odd, but—”
“Old soda bottles and coffee filters are dangerous.”
Bree’s eyebrows rose in incredulity. Some of her eagerness faded as if he’d crushed her pet project.
“I’m serious. That kind of trash is typical of shake and bake labs and they are very dangerous. So are the kind of people who create them.”
“But, the place is deserted. Why would anyone go there anyway?”
“To cook meth!” His voice took on a warning edge in spite of his efforts to remain cool.
Bree stared at him, clearly not comprehending the danger she could have been in. “Meth?”
“Don’t ever go there again.
” He sounded like an overbearing trooper, but he couldn’t stop that either.
“What do you mean, don’t go there again? I have to go there again. Probably a lot of times. It will take months to get the place ready to open to the public.”
Will struggled to stay calm. This restoration plan was a pet project. And she was clearly very excited about it. But she needed to understand his caution.
“You can’t go up there until the place has been checked out. Do you have any idea how hazardous that stuff is?” he snapped. He never snapped. But the lethal mix of his fear and her incomprehension overrode his usual composure.
“I think you’re overreacting a little.”
“I’m not overreacting, I assure you,” he shot back. He loved extreme sports and took his chances in places most people wouldn’t, but messing with a shake and bake site was not one of them.
Bree had her hands on her hips. A sure sign a woman was going to dig in her heels and refuse to be reasonable. “I thought you were my friend, Will, but if all you’re going to do is growl at me, this conversation is over.”
“I’m sorry.” Will gritted his teeth and willed his frustration back under control. “But please, on this you gotta trust me. Meth is one thing you do not want to mess with. Let me get the SBI team down there tomorrow. The State Bureau of Investigation has the equipment and expertise to deal with illegal meth labs. They can go over the place inch by inch.”
They’d already done so just a few weeks back, but they’d just have to do it again. If Bree had seen telltale signs up there, then the criminals had returned. Or new ones had found the place. Either way . . .
Bree still had her hands on her hips, but the mutinous glare was fading.
“Promise me,” he insisted.
She dropped her hands to her sides. “I don’t have to promise you anything. You know that, right?”
“I know, but I’m still going to worry until I know if it’s safe for you to be poking around the place.” He wished he did have the right, but he didn’t. Not unless the place was taped off and everyone excluded. Then he could enforce it because of who he was.
“Okay. I promise.”
Relief flooded over him like a warm shower. “Thank you.” The tension left his shoulders. “I’m sorry I got upset. I was just concerned you didn’t take the danger seriously. I can tell this restoration is something you’re really into. And it’s a good thing. Once we get the place cleaned up.” He glanced at his watch. There might still be time to call someone tonight. “I guess I should be going.”
Bree opened the door and held it for him. Some of the warmth was back in her eyes again. He wanted to kiss her, but decided that would be a bad idea. “I’ll let you know what they find.” He stepped into the hall.
“Good night, Will. And thanks. For everything. For taking Sam out to the beach and promising him a bike ride next week.” She chewed her lip and offered him a smile. “And for the warning.”
“Good night, yourself.”
She looked up at him then, her head tipped toward the doorjamb, and he couldn’t help himself. He kissed her. It was brief, but the bolt of sensation hit him like a freight train. Rather than see withdrawal in her eyes, he turned and left.
BREE CLOSED THE door slowly as the shock of Will’s kiss, chaste though it was, coursed through her. It had been fleeting and gentle, but the feelings it generated were neither. Had he lingered, she would have let him. She would have returned the kiss, too. Being around him stirred things in her she didn’t want stirred. He was a friend. At least, most of the time. When he wasn’t in his bossy cop mode. Or angry.
She had never seen Will angry before. Not even mildly irritated. He always seemed so together and cool, but then, she’d never seen him in a stressful situation either. Tonight had been an eye-opener. His reaction to her afternoon adventure unnerved her.
Almost as much as the feeling of being watched had. She hadn’t told Will about that though. Sure that it was a figment of her imagination, she didn’t even want to admit to turning tail and dashing to her car as if something had been chasing her. If she had told him about it, he would have been even more upset. But would it have been because he was a cop, and it was his job to worry about people? Or because he cared about her?
His signals had been rather mixed. One moment he was warning her to stay away from the Jolee Plantation like she was an errant child, yet a moment later he’d apologized and ended by kissing her before disappearing down the hall.
She didn’t want him to care about her in particular. She wasn’t going to get involved with him. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. It was safer to think he’d reacted in cop mode. His job description included the words to protect and serve. So, he knew more about this meth stuff than she did, and it clearly worried him.
Scared him, more like. But until now she hadn’t thought anything would scare Will. She went to her desk and woke up her laptop. She typed meth labs into the search bar. A long list of articles appeared. She read through several of them. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know that methamphetamine was a dangerous and illegal drug, but she hadn’t realized how dangerous the making of it was.
Next she typed in shake and bake. Will had used that term. A list of recipes appeared, mostly involving chicken and a different spelling, but halfway down the list was an article entitled, “New Shake and Bake Meth Method Explodes.” Bree clicked on it.
Wow! Apparently Will had not overreacted. Instead, she’d overreacted when she got huffy with him for trying to warn her. It didn’t matter why he was worried about her. He’d known what he was talking about, and his exasperation with her had been justified.
She’d have to report this to the committee. Once the police had dealt with it, they could go forward with their plans, but until then, they’d have to be patient. She hadn’t read about any of this in the local paper. How many other people knew? Fund-raising would be next to impossible if folks knew the place was overrun with criminals and meth addicts.
She retrieved her camera and connected it to her computer, then began downloading the photos. She scanned through them, remembering bits and pieces of her afternoon and the thoughts that had occurred to her as she explored. Grabbing her notebook, she started taking notes so she wouldn’t forget everything. When she was done, she shut her laptop and sat back. Her thoughts returned to Will.
He was right about meth being dangerous, but the memory of him with his blue eyes blazing worried her. That was not the man she’d begun to trust with her son’s welfare. Justified or not, he’d been a little out of control.
Perhaps she should rethink the bike ride he’d suggested taking Rick and Sam on the following weekend. Really, she didn’t know what to think. Or whom to ask. If she talked to Meg, she might not get a straight answer even though Meg had known Will for years. Zoe had already told her not to mess things up for Sam.
Bree had to admit Sam had blossomed in the months since he’d known Will. Her son was more confident, for one thing. Not that he’d been shy or timid before, but lately he’d shown a lot more maturity. He’d begun volunteering for things, both in scouts and in school. He was more willing to try new things and less worried about failing. Which could all be attributed to growing up, but it seemed unlikely the change would have been so noticeable in so short a time if that were all it was. And the only new thing going on in his life was Will.
Sam had been soaked but exultant the day Will taught him how to surf fish. Even though the fish was too small to keep, Sam insisted Bree take his picture with it before he set it free. He’d loved the zip line, of course. And now that she had gained some sense about it, she could see why he loved it. Suddenly the sheltered life she’d provided for him up to now seemed too guarded.
Letting him grow up was only going to get more difficult and probably a lot scarier the older he got. Bree sighed. If only
Sam could be her baby forever. But he couldn’t. If Will could help Sam develop confidence in a way she couldn’t, did she have the right to deny him that?
Of course she had the right. She was his mother. But should she?
Bree got up and headed down the hall. One thing she most definitely was still in charge of was a reasonable bedtime.
Sam’s light was off. That was a surprise. He wasn’t asleep though.
“I was waiting for you to say good night to me,” he explained as she sat down on the edge of his bed.
“Did you brush your teeth?”
“Yup.”
“And your backpack is ready for tomorrow with your homework in it and everything?”
Sam nodded. “And I even remembered the permission slip for little league.”
She bent and kissed Sam on the forehead. “You are growing up too fast. Next thing I know, you’ll be remembering to take a shower without being reminded.”
“Oh! I took that too. When you were arguing with Will.”
“I wasn’t arguing with Will.”
“Don’t you like Will?”
“Of course, I like Will.” Obviously they’d had a discussion about what Sam could call him. “I just did something he didn’t think I should be doing. And it turns out he was right, and I was wrong.”
“But you’re not still mad at him?”
“No, I’m not still mad at him.”
“Is he mad at you?”
“He’s not mad at me anymore either.” He kissed me good night.
“Good.” Sam rolled over and snuggled down under his covers. On Sam’s finger, where it gripped the quilt, Will’s ring glinted in the dim light. “Night, Mom. Love you.”
Bree settled the blankets more securely about Sam’s shoulders. She tousled his hair and touched the silvery face of the ring. “Love you, too, Sam.”
