His Haunted Heart

by Lila Felix

  I began to excuse the floating image at once recalling my shot nerves from the morning’s drama.

  That must’ve been it.

  My imagination had gotten away from me, fueled by the haunting books from the time spent reading the day before.

  It was all a ruse of my wild mind.

  “What happened?”

  “I—I thought I saw something. I’m just overtired and hungry.”

  That was the general excuse for everything in this place—I knew it would go over.

  “Are you sure? Come, let’s get away from the water.”

  Porter was about as happy as me to still be in visual distance of the pond. We walked back to the cabin, me still under the protection of his arm, though it did nothing to lessen my quaking.

  “We are going to go home and you are going to eat and get some rest. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Words carried on the wind as he rushed me home. I felt like an incapable twit, being carried home and fed and rested. I’d gone from being everyone’s unpaid servant to being tip-toed around like a pampered princess.

  I didn’t like it one bit.

  It wasn’t so bad, though.

  It was nice to be looked after.

  I rolled my eyes at my constant internal arguing. Any girl would give a hand or even an organ to be treated half as well as Porter was treating me.

  Yet, I complained.

  The cypress trees’ limbs were lower near his home. Their leaves bowed in sadness. Even the grass bowed down to the side a little, the surrounding doom too much for them to bear.

  We got to the house and the twit was handed off to Eliza while Porter made his excuses of getting Benjamin back to the stalls.

  “I’m fine.” I thrust myself out of Eliza’s hold and forwent the former suggestion that I eat and sit in front of the fire like a kept woman. The stairs were taken two at a time while I made my way to the bedroom and shut the door behind me. I needed a bath and some time alone. I was sure that a few minutes of normalcy would cure me—and being by myself was as normal as it got for me.

  I turned on the water, as hot as I could take it, and stared down into the clear abyss, daring the vision to show itself. Of course it didn’t. It was a farce, after all.

  My clothes hit the floor just seconds before my toe dipped into the water, testing it for heat. It was the hottest water I’d known. Even warming water over the wood stove didn’t bring water to this temperature.

  The rhythm of the drips coming from the faucet became my heartbeat. I had to get ahold of myself. I’d never had Porter before, but in the span of three days, I’d become dependent on his presence. It was imperative that I stop seeking him for everything—after all, he’d be gone a good deal of the time.

  I sighed, making ripples in the water underneath my chin. It was too late. Already, I missed him and I’d been in the bath less than a half hour.

  Closing my eyes, all I could see was those savage eyes—black to my blue. She’d been dressed in white again and in the seconds she reached for me, morphed from a child to a woman—a woman with the very devil in her eyes.

  I slowed my breaths and made myself listen for the drips from the faucet again.

  Maybe the events of my life were just catching up with me—just waiting in the wings for a peaceful pause to come out and rehash themselves.

  Porter had looked as terrified as I felt.

  He was just protecting his investment, right?

  A knock at the bathroom door jarred me. I knew he’d be concerned, but had no idea he’d go so far as to come into the bathroom.

  “I’m in the bath.”

  I’d purposefully said it quietly so I could blame the door for any misunderstanding.

  “I know, but I have to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.”

  There was a clunk on the door. The tips of his shoes were visible underneath it. It was his head. He’d thumped it on the door in exhaustion of my antics.

  Three days—that must’ve been a record for me.

  “You have to cover your eyes.”

  “I promise.”

  What in the heck was I thinking?

  He opened the door and came in, head down and eyes covered by his hands. I drew my knees up to my chest in an effort to be a little modest, despite the circumstances. Porter felt for the edge of the porcelain and then laid on the tiled floor next to the tub. I leaned over the edge, just to reveal my face and dripped water on his. He squinted and turned his face as the droplets rained havoc on him.

  “Hey, you’re taking the bath, not me.”

  I bit my lip and rolled my eyes. “So, I’m okay. You can see it.”

  “What happened out there?”

  I leaned my face against the side of the tub where it was cool, trying to hide my blush.

  “I went to the pond because my hands were full of dust. I washed them in the water and then I heard a bubbling—a noise in the water as though a fish had surfaced.”

  He rose to rest on his elbows, his face was inches from mine. His gray eyes were manic, irises searching, waiting for the next detail.

  “That’s when I saw her, the little girl.”

  “Marie.”

  “Yes. She was a child in the water. I panicked and did the first thing I thought of. I reached for her and she reached back.”

  Having heard the insane words aloud made me deflate and I flopped back into the bath, splashing him again.

  “Sorry.” He got up and got a towel, never breaking our deal. He laid back down next to me, this time his fingers playing with the tips of my pruned ones hanging like a fern over the edge of the tub.

  “It’s fine. Tell me the rest.”

  “When she reached for me, she changed a bit—got older. I swear I felt her hands around my neck. Her eyes—I’ve never seen anything so grim—so onerous.”

  He sat up quickly, so much so that I didn’t have time to be upset. If I thought his eyes were penetrating before, when they met mine in sheer panic, it felt like a physical invasion.

  “She touched you?”

  A tear slipped from my eye. I couldn’t look at him. If there was an inkling of disbelief in his voice, I wouldn’t be able to bear it.

  I tried to look out of the windows to soothe myself, but the steam from the bath had thrown a cloudy film over the stained glass windows that surrounded the cove in which the bathtub kept its home.

  His hand touched a hair that stuck out from the bun I’d piled my hair into. He tucked several wisps behind my ear, the ear next to the scar. Everything on my body was in relation to the scars. Prickles rose on my neck, his breaths across my skin making every cell buzz. The temperature of the water was nothing compared to the fire blazing through my veins. Porter was so close.

  “We decided no secrets, love.”

  I shivered at the use of that word. Never had I been the recipient of that word.

  “She tried to strangle me.”

  I heard the thump of his forehead on the tub. He rubbed my shoulder, kneading the muscles there, but I swore I could feel him everywhere.

  “Can I see them?”

  Must every conversation turn to those blasted cuts?

  “Porter.” His name lodged in my throat, so many unbidden emotions tangled with it.

  “I’d never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

  I turned my head to see him. His face showed me every emotion, even when he refused to speak. There was undaunted truth in his determined mouth. He held his breath, waiting on my answer.

  I wanted to show him everything that was me. Lay it out on a table of freedom and let him pick through the pieces.

  “I trust you.”

  The three most telling words I’d ever muttered.

  “Move up a little. I don’t want to see anything you don’t want me to. I am a gentleman after all.”

  As if I didn’t know.

  I scooted up in the now tepid water, it sloshed along the sides of my torso. I shook in place, h
olding my arms around my knees, a foiled attempt at containing the shivering from nothing other than my husband’s proximity to a body and a soul untouched.

  But craving it with an intensity that bordered on carnal.

  I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth when his fingers made their first contact with my other shoulder. My sisters hadn’t been satisfied with marring my face. When I turned to run after waking up from the attack, they cut into my back like one skins and guts a swine.

  “You never saw a doctor? These are deep.”

  “No, they didn’t take me and I was in no condition to take myself. After a week or so, I got up one morning, got dressed, and went about like nothing had happened.”

  I couldn’t hear the dripping anymore. The drumming of my heart in my temples overrode everything else. His hand was now splayed against the small of my back. There were no scars there.

  “You’re so soft. I knew you would be.”

  “You’ve touched me before, Porter.”

  His answer came in the form of a breathless whisper in my ear. “Not like this. Not nearly enough. There are times in the day when you are next to me and yet you feel so far away. I don’t know how I’m going to cope when I have to go out on business.”

  Porter’s hand continued to run a haughty path up and down my back and it sounded in my core as though he stroked an artery, connected to every part of me, sending life to every cell.

  “Thank you for trusting me.” I nearly whimpered at the loss of his touch when he removed his hand. “I don’t know what to make of what you saw. I’m not saying you didn’t see it, but I just don’t know what it could be.”

  He was lying. The hitch of his voice told me that there was, in fact, some farce in his words. My heart and my head were at war and so were his.

  “I think I’m hungry.”

  I was hungry, but I’d intended to ignore the sensation.

  “You’re just in time for supper. Would you rather take it in here? I’ll bring it here. You don’t even have to see anyone else if you don’t want to.”

  “Will you join me? I’ve found that I don’t like to eat alone.”

  “You read my mind. I’ll give you time to get dressed.”

  He left the room and shut the door behind him. I smiled at myself in the mirror like a girl who’d just gotten her first kiss. My cheeks flushed with newfound strength.

  I chose a simple white blouse and a navy skirt, forgoing the boots or the stockings. I hated stockings anyway. Looking in the mirror, I rushed to brush through my hair and pinned it into a suitable bun. Long gone was the sham of trying to cover up my scar with my hair. There were no longer any scars that I could keep from him.

  The room was cold and the beginnings of a night thunderstorm brewed outside. The clouds never lied.

  “I brought a little of everything.” Porter scared the cold right out of my bones. I danced an embarrassing display of fear mixed with tap. “I swear I didn’t marry you to give you a heart attack.”

  I fisted my shirt at my chest. “It’s fine. I’m just jumpy. Too much coffee. I don’t think I’ll truly ever understand why you married me.” The words tumbled from my brain straight out of my mouth. My filter had dissolved since marrying Porter.

  “Do you want me to tell you why?”

  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

  “You’re anything but ungrateful. Let’s eat and I’ll tell you about it.”

  He placed the tray full of savory gumbo and bread on the circular table that sat in the corner of the room. We both ate half a bowl before he began.

  “I’d gone into town to handle a bad loan. It was in the alleys behind The Plots. I heard some ruckus. At first, I thought it was a person selling newspapers, so I ignored it.”

  “My father.”

  “Yes.” He reached over and grabbed my hand. I supposed he was anchoring me in case the rest of the story was as horrid as I’d imagined. “He was—he was selling you off like a piece of meat, Delilah. The men around him were making lewd jokes and cackling. I didn’t even know you—hadn’t even seen you—but something made me want to…”

  “Save me.”

  “Yes. Whoever you were, I wanted to get you away from that horrid man. I’d even planned to come to your home and propose and then set you loose with enough money to get you by for a while.”

  My chest moved up and down with humiliating force with every word. “I can’t listen to any more.” I wrenched my hand from his and walked over to the window, the rain knocking on the panes, wanting a way in.

  “Delilah, you have to listen, love. Please, listen to me. I need you to know.”

  His chin rested upon the top of my head, bobbing with every sentiment. His chest rumbled against my shoulders as he spoke. It was as though he’d taken me into every concave of his stature. I felt secure.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I went to your home that day as a man wanting to set a captive free. Anyone could see that your father was desperate, and I couldn’t imagine a young woman in the hands of the rest of those miscreants.”

  Porter slid his hands down my arms, ending by threading his fingers through mine. This was not the story I’d imagined. It was far worse. After a few moments of silence, I nodded just to let him know that he could continue.

  “I went into your home and…”

  I turned my head a bit. “Be honest, Porter. You can’t say anything to offend me. I lived there.”

  “So true.” He chuckled and kissed my head. “It was filthy. It stank. I instantly pitied anyone whose family chose to live like that. Then you came down the stairs. Your mother was holding a candle. Its light reflected on your eyes just so—I thought I was hallucinating. Then I saw the scar and the way your father talked about you. You were so thin—so frail. Yet their words didn’t seem to have any effect on you. I wanted you for my own. I was selfish. I should’ve let you go. I know I’m not the kind of man you probably wanted.”

  I turned and gripped his waist with my face pressed against his chest. “I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want.”

  He placed his finger beneath my chin and tipped my face upward. “There’s no pity anymore, Delilah. It has been replaced by love.”

  I saw the look in his eyes. Even if a girl has never been kissed, the look in a man’s eyes when his mind is set on kissing you is inherent, like it’s coded into our brains from birth. It was the look on Porter’s face.

  There were no defenses in my arsenal to stop him—and I had no want to.

  “Can I kiss you, wife?”

  “Yes.”

  The first touch of his mouth was warm. His lips were softer than I’d expected, warmer than a thousand sunrises. Bristling heat moved across my face and down my neck with every stroke of my lips against his. My body swayed into his and he caught me without ever breaking our connection.

  It was one thing to hear that someone loved you, but to feel it in their embrace was another altogether.

  It was a kiss that wove two people together.

  I was no judge of a kiss—but there were no other competitors next to Porter.

  “I’ve been waiting to do that forever.”

  Smiling, I swatted his shoulder. “We’ve been married less than a week.”

  “If I’d known it would be like that, I wouldn’t have waited less than a minute.”

  I sighed and fell against him again in awe.

  How did I get so lucky?

  “Do you want to have dessert downstairs? My mother is a little worried about you.”

  “Sure. She’s very kind to me. Like a real mother.”

  He picked up the tray with our unfinished dinner and turned. “You’re happy here?”

  “Yes. Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Chapter Ten

  Porter

  I paced the office in the middle of the night, plowing through the events of the past few days. I didn’t know what to make of it.

  Yes, Marie was a bothersome girl when sh
e was alive.

  But in death, she hadn’t ever bothered me, only appearing here and there in awkward spaces—always silent.

  Delilah had been through so much in her life. She knew the truth of things and wasn’t one of these women who created drama out of boredom.

  If she said she saw something in the water, then she did.

  I picked up a letter that must’ve come in during the day. There was an issue at one of the banks I owned and my presence was mandatory. I had to leave the day after next.

  Instead of wanting to run from a woman like I did Marie, I wanted to cling to Delilah.

  I sat down and rested my head in my hands. I’d tried to love Marie, I had.

  It wasn’t enough in the end. That’s why she haunted me.

  Ultimately, my lack of love had been her demise.

  ~~

  “Good morning.” Delilah stuck her head around the corner into my office. “Why the face?”

  “It’s the only one I have.”

  I sighed. “You know what I mean. Is something the matter?”

  A bell rang in the distance. It was June letting everyone know that breakfast was ready.

  “Why don’t you go eat breakfast and then we will talk.”

  She didn’t look pleased with my suggestion.

  “Why don’t you come sit with us while we eat? It will do you good to get out of this office. You’ve been here all night.”

  “Come here, Delilah.” She walked over, the swish of her skirt the only thing I could hear. When she reached the desk, she paused. “Sit here in front of me. I want to see you.”

  She ran her fingers down her nose in that gesture I’d come to love as much as her. She was showing her shyness.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “I have to know something. Have you kissed another man before?”

  Her whole body tensed. Her gaze darted around the room to anything other than my face.

  “Once, a boy kissed me on the playground. I was five.”

  I laughed and rested my weary head on her legs, wrapping my arms around them. She ran her hands through my hair and I thought if there was a heaven, it was there under the care of my wife.

  “I’ve never been kissed like that. Not ever. Was—was it okay?”