EMERALD ARCH PUBLISHING
A novella
Lia Savage reluctantly puts her dream of opening a dessert boutique on hold to help her dad remodel a castle he’s inherited in Washington State. Soon, a specter targets her younger sister.
Lia enlists the help of strapping Coop Montgomery, the head gardener and her former crush. As they search together for a way to rid the castle of its ghost, the romance she used to dream about with Coop kindles. But Lia’s gentle giant means to stay in Washington while she’s determined to return to California. She must find the courage to face both the ghost and her future.
With Coop. Or without him.
Available on Amazon, Audible., and iTunes.
Note to Readers
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A Savage Ghost
Copyright ©2016 by Donna K. Weaver
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, dialogues, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Steve Novak
Donna K. Weaver’s author website is
donnakweaver.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, whether graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, audio recording, or any other means without prior written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without written permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law.
Please purchase only authorized editions, and do not participate in the electronic piracy of copyright material. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Note to Readers
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Note from the Author and a Free Book
Other Works by Donna K. Weaver
About the Author
A Savage Ghost
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Chapter 1
Hugh concentrated on the haze that should be the main hearth and willed it to come into focus. Nothing changed at first, but then the fireplace sharpened. His shoulders relaxed. At last, after struggling for so long, enough of his sense of self had returned.
And some of his power. Too little of his power.
How long had it been? Only on rare occasions, that he could recall, had he interacted with people in this new place.
He attempted to run his diaphanous hand along the mantel, frustrated when it passed through. Staring hard, Hugh grasped the single wooden-framed picture resting on it. The small portrait lifted into the air. He crowed, for once not caring that such a sound was beneath his dignity.
A gasp from behind startled him, and his hand turned translucent again. Without substance, his fingers lost their grip. The picture crashed to the hearth and shattered.
Livid, he spun, refocusing his energy. He fueled his will with anger and, for the first time in a very long time, felt his body take form. The gray-haired woman gave a satisfying shriek before covering her mouth with her hands.
“Remove yourself from my home at once,” he commanded, his voice low and menacing. He kicked a piece of broken frame, and it flew toward her. With a cry, the servant ducked and ran from the room.
Hugh straightened the ghostly cape of his Irish regimental uniform and turned back to the fireplace. More memories returned as he traced the mantel with his fingers. They had disassembled his home. With every stone they had carried away, it had been as though bits of him disappeared until he was no more than a single thought, drifting and lost. Tied always to the castle. How long had he been trapped in that purgatory state, neither heaven nor hell? Neither here nor there?
Away from all he had left of his sweet little Maire.
He ran his hand along the mantel again, searching for the pattern. His breath caught. It was not there. Frantic, he felt his way along the stonework again. Nothing. What had they done with it?
Hugh howled his rage.
Lia
LEANING MY HEAD AGAINST THE minivan window, I tried to block out the sound of my younger brothers in the seat in front of me. I loved the little punks, but after two days stuck in the car with their video game debates, I wanted to strangle one of them. Or both of them.
I gnawed on one of my only remaining fingernails.
“Lia, you’re doing it again.” Ezra reached over with his foot and nudged mine with it.
I glared at my twin from the corner of my eye but quit biting the nail.
“What is it now?” he asked.
I shifted in the seat to face him, a snarky answer on my lips. Before I said anything, though, he raised a hand and signaled for me to keep my voice down. Well, he raised it as high as he could with a sleeping seven-year-old sister leaning against his arm. Would serve him right if she drooled all over the open laptop before him.
“Why can’t we feel the same way about this move?” I hissed.
“That’s right, just say it out loud.” Ezra’s whisper turned into his teasing-mocking tone. “You’ve only ranted about it, what, a hundred times already?”
I turned away, stung. For the almost twenty years of our lives he’d always been my balance, helping me keep things in perspective, but he could be a royal pain too. Especially with his brutal honesty.
“I don’t have to be here, you know,” I said, trying to ignore him.
“Since you lost your job, it’s not like you have anywhere else to go.” Ezra grimaced as soon as he said it.
My eyes burned, and I turned away to watch the trees pass by. I’d lost more than my job when I’d been laid off. And he knew it. Punk.
“I’m sorry, Lia.” Ezra’s voice softened, all the edge gone. “That came out harsher than I meant.”
Mellie shifted on the seat between us, and I reached down to brush the curls from her little face. Her frail, skinny legs dangled over the seat. I wanted the simple acceptance and joy she had—that everyone else in my family had—about the move.
The unhappiness came from more than just moving a couple of states away from where I’d lived all my life. Dad had inherited a castle. A freaking castle. Who takes apart an Irish castle and reconstructs it in northern Washington? Some psycho Savage ancestor, of course.
“Help me be happy about this, Ez.”
“All right.” He turned thoughtful. As usual, his nerdy, black-rimmed glasses had slipped down his nose, and a long strand of hair kept falling into his eyes. “Answer this: is it really so hard for you to help Mom and Dad for a few months?”
“Of course it isn’t.” I leaned my head against the seat and stared at the car ceiling.
“Then what are you really afraid of?”
“That I won’t be able to go back to Sacramento,” I whispered, thinking of the culinary certificate I’d earned right before I’d lost my job.
“I’ve said this before—” He shot me a smug glance for emphasis. “look at it as a temporary summer job.”
Ezra had said some
thing like that before, but I had blown it off. I heaved out a breath. He was right. I hated it when he was right. Still, as I accepted it, the horrible sense of being in prison eased a little for the first time since the letter had come from the attorney.
“Haven’t Mom and Dad waited long enough for their dream to come true?” he asked, his voice soft. “Let’s help them and just enjoy this summer together.”
I heard the word “last” even though he didn’t say it—our last summer together.
And there it hung in the air, the ultimate reason I hated this amazing thing that had happened to us. Two months ago Dad had inherited hundreds of acres, including a castle. I should be happy for him. But an inheritance shouldn’t pull our family in different directions. In Sacramento we’d had a good life. After a few lean years, Dad’s business had taken off again. We had friends there, a support group. Some of us had plans.
For more than a year, my best friend Taylor and I had talked about opening our own dessert boutique. Then the letter from the attorney had come, and I’d been the rope in a tug-of-war, pulled back and forth: stay with the family I loved or pursue my dream.
It hadn’t been hard for Ezra. Two years ago he’d barely blinked at turning down a scholarship to Berkeley. He’d said he’d rather get his computer science degree online than make a three-hour commute round trip, and he sure didn’t want to live in the Bay Area. It was too far from family.
I sighed again. Too far from family. I’d always counted on them being nearby.
“Here,” I said. “Let her rest on me, so you can work on your assignment.”
“Thanks.” Ezra eased his arm out from behind Mellie.
With care, I shifted her. Up front, Mom said something to the boys, and they all laughed. Our eyes met when she checked the rearview mirror, and she winked. She looked so happy.
My parents had talked for years about buying a big house and turning it into a bed and breakfast. Dad’s building skills and Mom’s organizing and killer decorating skills? Perfect combo. Inheriting the castle really was a dream come true for them.
I needed to stop fighting my decision. Like Ezra had said, there hadn’t been much of a decision once I’d lost my job. It took money to open a dessert boutique. I might as well work for my father in Washington as for a stranger in Sacramento.
Our last summer together. I reached across Mellie and gave Ezra’s shoulder a little push.
“That’s better.” He grinned.
Up ahead, Dad slowed the large moving truck.
“Do you think we’re here?” I whispered, but Ezra only shrugged. I peered into the heavily wooded area that surrounded us, hoping to see something besides trees. The forest made giant green and brown walls on both sides of the highway. If the road had been any narrower, the effect would have been claustrophobic.
“Look.” Ezra pointed to a side lane the truck ahead was turning onto.
A quaint, carved-stone sign stood on the shoulder of the road, almost overwhelmed by the growth. A corner had broken off, giving it a feel of antiquity and welcome. It stated only the name of the village—Wildstone, and the distance—two miles.
“Check it out.” Eli and Joel had taken notice and plastered their faces against the windows. “Sick!” They pointed to another, newer sign just beyond the inviting stone one.
Keep Out. Private Property.
“That’s a little ominous,” I said.
“I’d say curious, not ominous.” Ezra shot his big brother “behave” look. Like the extra ten minutes he’d been alive made him all knowing or something.
“Fine.” I should stop seeing bad omens in everything. I gave Mellie a gentle shake. “Wake up, sleepyhead. I think we’re almost there.”
“Where?” Mellie jerked upright, her head darting back and forth between the windows. “There’s only trees.”
“Only a mile or so to go.” Ezra pointed to a map he had on his laptop.
As we drove on, at first only more forest surrounded us. Then the tree tunnel opened to show a large, roundish valley with snowcapped Mt. Baker as a distant backdrop. My breath caught at the beauty of the view. Mellie squealed, and the boys sat speechless for a second before pelting Mom with questions.
I had purposely not paid attention to many details when the family had talked about what the inheritance included. Looking at the valley before us, the five hundred acres seemed a lot bigger than it had on the online map we’d checked.
The village of Wildstone’s bright, colorful buildings started not far from the opening. The old-fashioned quaintness of the place reminded me of something. A few of the houses even had thatched roofs.
“Some of those would give Nan’s purple house a run for her money,” I said. True to the culture of her youth, our Brazilian grandmother loved colorful houses.
“Very European,” Ezra said.
The place looked under construction, with scaffolding around several buildings. No workers labored anywhere, and it had the sense of a project interrupted.
“Is Dad responsible for the village too?” I asked, as something occurred to me.
“Yep,” Ezra said, his voice flat.
With a groan, I closed my eyes. I should have paid more attention to Dad’s plans and what I’d agreed to help with. We might have spent our junior high and high school years working for him and his construction company, but Ezra had good reason to be getting a degree in computer programming, and I had trained to be a pastry chef.
“Oh, look, Phoebe,” Mellie cried, pointing at the people pouring from the buildings to watch us drive past. “There are some little girls we can play with.”
Ezra and I exchanged glances. Phoebe’s back? he mouthed.
Through the rearview mirror, I caught Mom’s expression turn dark for a second. The therapist had told us two years ago that Mellie’s way of coping with the death of her twin included creating an imaginary friend with the same name. He’d assured my parents Mellie would outgrow it. We’d thought she had.
No surprise when Dad didn’t stop in the village. We all knew how anxious he was to get to the castle. Once we drove past the buildings, it came into view. In the distance, on a small rise, partially blocked by the gatehouse, stood the two front towers of Savage Citadel.
Everyone sat in silence as we approached it, even the boys. The gatehouse looked like a mini-castle, with its two towers connected by a building-like bridge thingy. Someone must live there because curtains hung from the windows. Pretty cool looking, actually. If I wanted to be honest with myself—and I wasn’t sure I did—everything about the valley looked pretty cool.
Dad stopped in front of the gatehouse. Mom pulled up beside the moving truck, and the boys scrambled out.
“That wouldn’t be very effective at keeping out an advancing army.” Ezra pointed to the low stone wall, not more than three feet high, that ran out from the gatehouse. It formed a fence around the large castle grounds.
“Maybe our nutcase ancestor figured he didn’t need fortress walls here.” Leaning over, I turned my head toward him while I searched for my sandals. “Who would attack here, anyway? Canadians?” I grinned.
He shot me a flat look as he unzipped his laptop case. “The problems between the early settlers and the local tribes had calmed down by the time this thing was reconstructed here in the mid to late 1800s.”
“Look.” Mellie tugged on my sleeve. “Who are those people?”
With the sandal in hand, I straightened. A gray-haired woman was shaking my dad’s hand. She stood nearly as tall as he, and the younger man who waited a couple of steps back towered over them.
“No way.” My heart beat a little faster, and I leaned closer to the window. Mellie pushed past me and hopped from the car behind the boys.
“What do you see?” Ezra lowered his head to peer out my window.
“Remember last summer? The guy doing the gardening internship?” The guy I’d crushed on all summer. He’d boarded with the parents of one of Ezra’s friends.
“Yea
h, I do.” Ezra grinned. “Coop Montgomery.”
Coop here. I slid on my shoes, trying to think calm thoughts.
“Montgomery. Of course,” Ezra said. “Don’t know why I never considered it.”
“Never considered what?”
“Haven’t you listened to anything Dad’s talked about the last two months? The caretakers here are the Montgomerys.” In his hurry, Ezra was struggling to get the laptop straight enough to slide into its case. “I mean, what are the odds our Montgomery would belong to these Montgomerys?” He finally shoved his not-quite-loaded computer and bag to the side, opened his door, and got out. “I don’t see anyone who might be Mr. Montgomery anywhere, so he must be up at the castle. Come on.” He didn’t wait for me but turned and jogged toward the group.
Taking my time, I eased from the car and tried not to look like I was looking at Coop. I was coolness personified. Not a sign showed of the tingles running clear down to my toes, or the swirling butterflies that had taken up residence in my stomach. I hoped.
Last summer had been the best of my life, and Coop had been a huge part of it. Since Ezra and I usually hung out with the same friends, we’d always done a lot of things together—camping, rafting down the American River, boating on Folsom Lake. Coop had spent most of that time around us, and I’d thought maybe …
Well, it hadn’t mattered anyway. The summer idyll had ended; he’d gone back home. I stole a glance at him. Here. How crazy was that?
What if he didn’t remember me?
I didn’t want to face that possibility, so I didn’t approach the others but rather allowed the view of the castle grounds to draw me through the gateway. The luscious smell of freshly cut grass wafted up to me. Not far off, a large riding lawn mower sat where it had stopped in the middle of the job. Something about the place already pulled at me.
All at once, in spite of the mild June afternoon sun, goose bumps broke out on my arms. My hair swirled a little around my face. Pulling it back, I glanced around. None of the tree leaves moved. Weird. Chilled, I shivered and rubbed my arms for warmth. I’d have to get used to the cooler Washington weather.
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