Suddenly, it all became very clear to her. Even if she hadn't been inclined to believe all of Ben's romantic notions about Cory and Ham awakening after a hundred-something-year nap, she'd be a fool to ignore all the coincidences. All it would have taken to prevent this from happening would have been for one of those similarities not to have occurred. Ben Chastain really should have stayed away.
But did she want him gone? That would mean that she wouldn't have met him, would never have kissed him, would never have spent a sleepless night longing for his touch…
Corrie felt the heat rising to her cheeks, and she lowered her head. She knew that Ben could read her telltale face as well as if her feelings were tattooed on her forehead. She gasped, fighting for air as her confused thoughts swirled about her.
"Corrie? Are you all right?" Ben touched her shoulder and shook her gently.
How could she tell him all the worried and embarrassing thoughts that had rushed unbidden into her mind? One thing she knew for certain: there was no way to stop any of it now. The course of fate had already been set into motion. "And my full name is Corrine Venable Wallace," she whispered. "Corrie Venable." She raised her head to look at him. "What do you think they have in mind for us?"
Ben drew her to him then, sliding his hand over her shoulder and up until his bare hand found the naked curve of her neck. Corrie leaned into his caress, feeling that electric torment from his thumb stroking her, teasing the tender skin of her lips, still sensitive from his bruising kisses of the night before.
"Do you think they intend us harm?" she managed before she was totally swept away.
Ben stopped his marvelous ministrations and smiled. "I doubt it. But I do think they need us for something. In many cases, ghosts linger earthbound until they complete some sort of unfinished business, right a wrong, or in some cases, lead the way to buried treasure. They usually aren't up to anything sinister. It's just that the mortals around them are pretty thick headed and don't always understand."
Somehow Ben's comments didn't help much. Especially the disclaimer about sinister intent. She would have felt a lot better if he hadn't brought that up at all. She could deal with Cory and Ham's occasional pranks. "But… but what if they do mean us harm?"
Ben touched her chin with the tips of his fingers and tipped her face up to look into his eyes. "I don't think they do. I haven't sensed anything, and it's usually much easier to pick up negative vibes than positive ones. They haven't done anything to suggest that they're up to no good. But I do think they need us for something. I just don't know what."
Distracted as she was by Ben's fingers tracing the outline of her jaw, Corrie forced herself to ask one last question. "How can we find out for sure?"
Ben lowered his hand and smiled slow and sweet and sexy. "We're just going to have to play out the hand they've dealt us." Corrie could hear the "darlin'" he didn't tack on to the end of the sentence, and she had to admit she rather liked it.
The statement, on the other hand, did not sound reassuring at all. But against her better judgment, she knew she had to go along with the plan. Besides, she was as curious as she knew Ben must be. She wanted to examine this phenomenon — situation — with scientific curiosity.
And besides that, the thing that had started in the kitchen last night was something Corrie wanted to see to the end. She glanced at Ben, still leaning against the registration desk and looking too sexy and handsome to be real.
Science had nothing to do with it.
****
Ben paced in the confines of his room. He had suspected that Corrie had begun to put two and two together and come up with her own conclusions about why the ghosts had made their first appearance only after he'd come around. Ben had a titillating thought, but he wasn't ready yet to voice it. If he told Corrie what he suspected, it would be certain to send her running.
And she had to be there or nothing would work out the way it should. Let her continue to think that Cory and Ham had some mysterious agenda. He was pretty sure that what Ham and Cory needed was more basic than anything that Corrie could imagine.
He pocketed his key and opened his door, heading for the lobby where Corrie waited to give him his guided tour. Maybe he could sense something, though he was beginning to think that all they could do was wait to see what Cory and Ham would think up next. As much as he tried not to imagine scenarios, for he knew that it was far better not to come into an investigation with preconceived notions, his mind worked incessantly, fabricating possibilities.
He pushed the most inventive of them out of his mind and hurried downstairs.
Corrie and Vanessa were standing at the registration desk, contemplating a handsome, dark-skinned man who was steering a lawn tractor around the huge front lawn.
"You say that's Mr. Jessup's Junior? Why hasn't he been out here before?" Vanessa watched the man with the rapt expression of a cat stalking a goldfish in a bowl.
Corrie laughed. "He's just been home a few days from a stint in the army, I think. Mr. Jessup told me he's looking for work."
Vanessa took in a deep breath and threw out her skinny chest. "Well, if Mr. Jessup's lumbago keeps hurtin' him, we could just keep Junior on." She looked at the man again. "Hey, maybe I could find something for him to do."
Ben slowed near the bottom of the stairway and listened to the exchange. He knew he shouldn't be eavesdropping, and it was obvious that the two women hadn't heard him coming. But it was also too interesting for him to interrupt them.
"Mr. Jessup will be fine in a day or two, and Junior can go back to his job search," Corrie said. "I doubt he wants to mow lawns for a living."
"Mm, mm, mm. That man could do a fine job at plenty of other things. No manual labor required," Vanessa added suggestively.
"Vanessa, I'm surprised at you. You don't even know if he can compose a coherent sentence. Usually, you're a lot pickier about who you—"
"Girl, as pretty as he is, he don't need to—"
Ben cleared his throat.
Corrie blushed, and Vanessa might have too. Both appeared embarrassed that he'd seen them drooling over the new yard man. At least, Vanessa had been.
"Well, I think I'll just go home now," Vanessa volunteered, wasting no time gathering up her purse and tote bag. "I'll see you first thing." She hurried across the lobby and yanked open the front door.
"You'd think she'd never seen a good lookin' man before." Corrie chuckled to herself and turned to Ben. "I knew Junior was coming over, but he sure has changed since I last saw him."
Ben couldn't help smiling, and he was very glad that Corrie was not as silly over the man as Vanessa had been. "And how long ago would that have been?"
Corrie thought a moment. "About fifteen years. He was tall and gawky and always had his head in a book. He earned a full scholarship to Tuskeegee University. Mr. Jessup was proud as a peacock." She smiled. "I don't think I've seen Junior since then." She drew her gaze away from the man on the tractor and smiled up at Ben. "Ready?"
Ben returned the smile. "Any time you are."
"I thought we'd start with the library." Corrie slipped out from behind the desk and headed toward the west side of the house.
"Lead on." Ben followed her into a room lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Most of them were filled to capacity with books. Some were current best sellers, both hard cover and paperback. Others were obviously old and valuable. "I guess the Venables were great readers then."
Corrie nodded. "We all love to read." She pointed to the open shelves containing the current books. "Most of those are mine. I have to confess to being a member of just about every book club there is."
Ben sighed, coveting the vast selection of literature, past and present. "You could always use the public library."
"What? And be forced to give them back after two weeks?" Corrie looked horrified at the notion. "Besides, if I had checked all these books out of the library and returned them after I'd read them, I'd have nothing to fill these shelves for my guests to read." S
he shook her head and tilted her chin up defiantly. "Or I'd have had to spend a large fortune I don't have right now to purchase them for this library." She grinned. "Now I can use my vice as a tax deduction."
Ben shot her a puzzled look.
"Business expense," she added matter-of-factly.
"Oh." Ben wondered if he could get away with that one. "Well, let's get on with the business of what we came in for." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
Corrie stood in the center of the room and glanced around. "The desk and the table are from around the time of the Civil War, or as my grandfather would say, the Late Unpleasantness. So they would have been around in Ham and Cory's time. And the chairs that go with them as well." She turned and pointed to two large, leather-covered wing chairs. "I believe these are newer."
Ben crossed the room and ran his hand over the smooth, worn finish of the roll-top desk. He admired the workmanship of the handsome piece of furniture, but shook his head sadly. "Nothing here."
He moved on to the writing table. It, too, was well made and worn, showing the scars of frequent use and age. But it gave off nothing that would help Ben. "No vibes here, either."
Corrie looked at him. "How do those vibes work anyway?"
Ben shrugged. "I couldn't tell you. All I know is that I lost control and drove my first motorcycle into a brick wall when I was sixteen, and I've had those feelings ever since I woke up in the hospital."
"You mean you got a lump on the head, and now you can see things that go bump in the night?" Corrie asked flippantly.
"More or less." He really didn't like the glib way that Corrie had phrased her question, but her assumption had been essentially correct. "Studies indicate that injury can increase sensitivity."
Corrie must have sensed his disapproval, for she looked up. "I didn't mean to be crass about it. I guess it's easier to make fun of things you don't understand than to believe them." She smiled apologetically. "Sorry."
"Sure." Ben glanced up at the high, glassed in shelves that held the oldest-looking books. "What about those? Do you think Cory or Ham would have read any of them?"
"Probably." Corrie rolled the top of the desk up and reached into a cubbyhole. She came back with a key and unlocked the glass-enclosed book cabinet door. "Help yourself."
Ben looked up at the imposing array of cloth and leather-bound books. How many of these were first editions? He drew in the musty scent of old paper and bindings. He pulled one out and handled it reverently, carefully opening the gilt-edged pages. Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility. He wondered whose hands had leafed through these pages and enjoyed the wonderful story within. As he returned the book to the shelf, a worn, but modern volume of Mark Twain on an open shelf caught his eye. He started to take it down, but noticed a taller, thinner book wedged between it and a well-used copy of Poe. He pulled out the book and opened its pages.
"Well, look what I found."
Chapter Six
As much as she'd wanted to help, Corrie had secretly hoped that Ben wouldn't find anything. Her breath caught in her throat, and when she was able to breathe properly again, she asked, "What? Have you gotten some vibes?" She hoped he couldn't sense the alarm in her voice.
Ben chuckled. "No. Nothing like that." He held out the large, flat book he'd taken down from the high shelf. "Is this the missing register?"
Corrie recognized it immediately. She nodded her head dumbly. She was certain she hadn't put it there. In fact, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd touched that bookcase. Of course, if she could remember, perhaps the mystery would not be a mystery at all. "How… how did it get there?" she finally managed.
"I'd have to say that one of our ghosts did it," Ben said, a jubilant grin on his face that said that he thought he'd found the corroboration he'd been looking for.
"But how? They aren't real. They're not solid. How could they pick up and move something? Even if it is as light as a book." She took the book from Ben and ran her hands over the cool, smooth surface.
"I don't know. But many, many people have reported poltergeist activity. Maybe it's some sort of electromagnetic energy. All I know is that it happens."
Though Corrie had thought that she was rational enough to deal with this concept in the same way she would any scientific experiment, this was way too weird. A shiver worked its way down the back of her neck. "Have you ever actually seen…?" She couldn't finish the sentence. It was just too weird.
"Once. I was in an old house in Marion, because the family Bible, which had lain in the same place on a table for years, had been opening to the family history page. The owners would close it, but the next time they looked, it would be open again." He smiled. "Apparently, it had been happening for years before somebody called it to my attention.
"That was a fairly simple one. It seems the younger generation of the family had been negligent in recording the family history. Once we figured out what the spirit wanted, the man who owned the Bible inscribed the current information. After that it stayed appropriately closed." He chuckled. "I suspect it will as long as Theo keeps the information up to date."
That didn't seem so scary. Corrie hoped Ham's and Cory's intentions were as benign. "That was a nice story. Will it be in your book?"
Ben nodded. "Yes. And I hope yours will end as nicely."
"You don't suppose I should check my family Bible?" Corrie's eyes shifted to the huge, worn leather-bound Bible that sat in a position of honor on a glassed-in shelf.
"Only if you think the information's not up to date," Ben teased.
"As far as I know it is, but I think I'll check anyway." There was no sense asking for trouble if it could be avoided.
"Have you noticed any unusual occurrences connected to that Bible?"
Corrie looked up at Ben. "No." But it would still make her feel better to look. She reached for the Bible. "I'm going to check just to be on the safe side."
The book was heavier than she had remembered, and Corrie struggled to get it down from the shelf. She staggered backward with its weight, and Ben caught her, sending a wonderful thrill of well-being racing through her. With Ben there, Corrie felt as if she could deal with anything.
Together, they carried it over to the writing table and placed it reverently on the wide surface. Corrie opened the book to the few pages inside the front cover. She traced the names and dates with a light touch of her finger, starting with Hiram Luther Venable's birth back in 1843. They were all there: Corliss Sibley Venable (Cory), her brothers Marcus and Luther, Grandaddy James Edward, and his siblings, Sibby and Carter, and Uncle William and her own mother Martha. Corrie's name was there, too, the last entry.
"It's all here. Grandma must have caught it all up before she moved into the retirement home." Corrie paused as she looked at Cory's entry. "B April 23, 1881. M Hamilton Benjamin Jordan, June 3, 1903. D June 3, 1903." She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "It's so sad."
"Yeah," Ben agreed, his voice as husky as Corrie's. "We'd best put this up." He lifted Corrie's hands away and closed the Bible. Then he carried it back to the cabinet and put it away.
****
Ben followed Corrie back downstairs after the fruitless tour of the house. He'd suspected they'd find just what they did: nothing. After he'd tuned into nothing in the library he'd known it was pointless to go on, but he'd finished the tour for no other reason than to get more family history. Okay, he forced himself to admit, to spend more time with Corrie as well.
She had confirmed that the Honeymoon Suite was where Cory and Ham had met their ends. But if he'd expected to pick up anything there, he'd been disappointed. It still bothered him that the Honeymoon Suite seemed soulless while the rest of the house felt warm and loving. But he had picked up no negative vibes there. In fact, he had picked up nothing. The room reminded him of a brand new tract house where no one had gotten a chance to stamp it with personality. It wasn't so much empty as blank.
"What are you thinking?" Corrie asked.
Ben looked up from his thoughts and realized that they were back at the front desk. He smiled wryly. "Didn't I use that same line on you not three hours ago?"
Corrie grinned. "Almost. As I recall, you offered me an insultingly small amount of money."
"What can I say? I'm operating on a teacher's salary." He made as if to pull out empty pocket linings.
"Well? What were you thinking? I know you must be disappointed that you couldn't find anything. Or did you?"
"Nope. Came up empty," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets. He fished for his keys. He had to get up to his room and record his observations while they were still fresh in his mind. He wondered if he should tell her about his odd feelings in the Honeymoon Suite. "Did you notice anything?"
"No. It feels like it always did. Like a plain old house that I've been in and out of for years."
"A plain old house where guest registers move and you can open a door and see things that haven't been there for a century." He didn't mention ghosts that seemed to be pushing him to… No, he wouldn't allow himself to think that.
Corrie started to say something but stopped and turned in the direction of the front door. From the sound of it, someone was coming up the front steps. Ben realized just then that he hadn't noticed the droning noise of the tractor for the past few minutes. It must be Junior coming to collect his pay.
With that thought, the door opened and the silhouette of a large man filled the opening.
"Come on in, Junior. I've got your check ready."
Ben glanced back to where Corrie stood behind the desk, a huge business-sized checkbook open, the feather pen in her hand. When had she gone to get it?
Junior brushed grass clippings off his clothing and wiped his work boots on the mat, then he removed the straw cowboy hat that had shaded him from the hot sun and stepped inside. His handsome, dark face widened into a grin. "I sure hope you didn't make that out to Junior. I don't go by that name anymore."
Corrie returned the smile. "I made it out to John Richard just like I do for your daddy. Do you want me to add junior to it?"
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