by Stacy Green
“I’d like to see the dirt roads sometime,” she said.
“Sure.” He’d never had a passenger on one of his dirt road trips. He tried to think of something different to talk about.
“Oak Lynn,” he said.
“What?”
“Oak Lynn Plantation,” Cage said. “You’ve heard of it?”
“Of course! It’s considered to be one of the best restored plantations in the state.”
“It’s just past this next curve, on the right. They have ghost tours all the time. You’ll have to–”
“Oak Lynn is my neighbor?” Dani’s face was plastered to the window, fingers splayed across the glass like the chubby kid at the candy store. Cage had been that kid a long time ago. He grinned at Dani’s exuberance.
She glanced at her watch. “It’s not quite six. Can we stop? I can introduce myself, maybe even get a special tour. Please?”
“Grace, the owner, is probably getting ready to serve guests dinner.” Cage shook his head. “She’s got a full house right now.”
“I’ll have to stop by and talk to her tomorrow then. Do you know her well?”
“She and my mama go way back. And fair warning: Grace’ll talk your ear off about Ironwood and Oak Lynn. Her family’s one of Roselea’s oldest settlers. Knew John James and CaryAnne.”
“John James was a Civil War hero, right?” Dani stared wistfully as they drove past Oak Lynn. Cage wondered how she’d react to seeing the inside of the restored home.
“Yep. His father built Ironwood, but John James was the one who kept the plantation going during the reconstruction.”
“When did the house go into such disrepair?” Dani asked.
“Slow decline,” Cage said. “CaryAnne was tough and handled the place pretty well after her father died, but she didn’t have anyone to help when she got too old.”
“And what happened when she died?”
“Bank took the estate. Some family bought it and tried to make a go of it, but it never was the same. By the time the church bought it in 1971, it was in pretty bad shape,” Cage said. “They applied some band-aids, used it for staff and storage until fifteen years ago. Then they started renting.”
“Well, at least they were smart enough to protect the house as best they could,” Dani said. “Having so many of its original accents is actually pretty rare.”
“I’ve always been surprised people didn’t tear the house apart looking for the secret room.” Cage grinned at her, enjoying the shock flickering over her flushed face.
“What?”
“Ironwood’s local claim to fame,” he said, still smiling. “When the Civil War started, John James and his father believed the South would lose and fall onto hard times. When the Yankees raided the house, they came up mostly empty. But when the war was over, and John James came home, the family had plenty of silver and valuables to use for currency. Everyone believed they hid it somewhere, and supposedly, when he was an old man and reliving his glory days, John James bragged about the secret room to Grace’s grandfather.”
Dani’s wide eyes made him laugh. “John James was an old man then. Probably filling her grandpa’s head with stories. Of course, when she was old and dying, CaryAnne talked about the secret room, too. Grace’s family helped take care of her. I’ve always heard she wasn’t in her right mind then, so who knows how many tall tales she spun.”
“There’s always a bit of truth in people’s rantings.” Dani’s speech flew again. “And most of those old houses have hidden rooms and hidey-holes. I restored a home in Illinois that had two hidden rooms connected by the narrowest staircase I’ve ever seen. The house went back to the 1840s, and we’re pretty sure it was a spot on the Underground Railroad.”
“How’d you figure that out?”
“The people who built the house were abolitionists. Her letters hinted at helping during the war, but she was very careful with what she said. Location of the house fits as well.” She shifted in her seat as she spoke, clasping her hands together. “I’ll never forget what it was like discovering that stairway and realizing what I’d found. There’s no way to describe the adrenaline rush.”
“I bet it was a major mark on your résumé,” Cage said.
“Who cares about that? All I wanted to do was share the house and its history with everyone within shouting distance.”
He was starting to like this fast-talking Yankee. “I’m really glad to hear you say that. I have to admit, when I heard someone from up North bought Ironwood, I was afraid. Lee spoke highly of you, but a lot of Northerners we’ve had down here only see dollar signs in our history.”
“Not me. When I walk into an old house, it’s as if the walls themselves are talking to me. The place has its own energy, its own story, its own life. And I can see and touch it. Hear it in my head.” She stopped abruptly and glanced at him. “I’m sure that makes no sense.”
Cage felt slightly out of breath from the cadence of her words and the emotions behind them. A lightness he wasn’t used to surrounded him.
“That makes perfect sense to me, actually. Because that’s exactly what history is.” He glanced over to smile at Dani. Surprise lingered in her expression, but she smiled back.
“Thank you.”
His neck burned. “So, you going to search for Ironwood’s secret hideout? I should warn you, the church and most likely the historical foundation have been pretty thorough.”
“Maybe they didn’t know what they were looking for,” she answered. “There’s a reason why they call them secret rooms. And both CaryAnne and John James spoke about it–decades apart.”
“You wouldn’t make a very good cop.” Cage tried not to laugh at her. “John James was old when he told that story, and he’d probably told it to CaryAnne a hundred times. She was Daddy’s little girl–so the story goes–so of course she believed him. And she didn’t start talking about the room until she was half-senile.”
“You just have no imagination.”
“I have plenty of imagination. But also common sense.”
“I don’t think I’ll talk to you anymore.” She crossed her arms, but her tone was light.
“That’s too bad, because there are other juicy stories about John James. Probably all a bunch of baloney, but I’d have shared them with you.”
She pinched her lips shut. Cage snickered, turning the car onto Main Street. He pointed to a grand Victorian. “Annabelle’s. We’ll check and see if she has openings, get you set up there. Should have thought to bring your things, damn it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I thought you weren’t speaking to me anymore?”
“I’m making an exception since you’re blabbering and not making sense. Why would I need to be set up at Annabelle’s?”
Cage carefully backed his car into an open spot. “You planning on sleeping in your car?”
“No. I’m planning on sleeping in my house.”
“You what?” Cage’s hoped he hadn’t heard her right.
“I’m staying at Ironwood.”
“You don’t have a bed.” Cage supposed he should offer his bed to her. Without him in it, of course. The back of his damned neck heated up again.
“But there’s a couch. And electricity. And running water. With a clean bathroom–thank you for that, by the way.”
“You know there’s still bones in the basement.”
“Really, Sherlock?” She nudged his arm. Her lotion smelled like peach blossoms. “I had no clue.”
He gritted his teeth. One minute this woman had him laughing, and the next he was considering breaking every code of decency and shaking the shit out of her.
“It’s not a crime scene, you said yourself. I’m not going to be going into the basement, anyway.”
“But you are going to be looking for the secret room. For Christ’s sake, Dani.”
Her pink cheeks made the freckles on her nose stand out. “Don’t mock me. If there’s a secret room, it’s probably connect
ed to the library, which I can’t get into right now. But when I get the keys, you can damn well bet I’m searching. My house. I can search all I want.”
She looked out the window. “Let’s eat at Sallie’s Diner. Lee said they’ve got the best burger in town, and I’m dying for something ridiculously fattening.” She stepped out of the car. “God, it’s almost seven o’clock. How can it still be this miserably hot?”
Cage followed suit and hurried to her side, jittery with tension. Jaymee might be working, and it had been a while since they’d seen each other. “You don’t want to eat at Sallie’s your first night. All they’ve got is burgers and fries. Let’s go down to Smokey’s. Get you some Mississippi barbeque.”
“Barbeque is messy,” Dani said. “And I want some comfort food.” She headed for the diner, her pale blue sundress swishing around her knees. “But if you want barbeque, I can eat by myself. I’m an independent woman, you know.”
He might throttle this woman yet tonight. “And I’m a good Southern host. I can’t let the Yankee eat alone her first night in town.” He hurried around Dani to open the door and prayed Jaymee wasn’t working.
7
“I still don’t think you need to sleep here tonight.” Cage unlocked the front door and turned on the light in the foyer. “You don’t even have a pillow or blankets.”
“Yes I do,” Dani said. “They’re in one of my bags. I planned ahead.”
He pursed his lips, shaking his head. Of course she had.
Grumbling under his breath, he moved throughout the house, flipping on lights. She followed, the sound of her shoes a pleasantly annoying blip in the usual silence of Ironwood.
“I’ll bring your things into the parlor then.”
“I can do that.”
He shot her a look and disappeared into the grand ballroom where Dani’s belongings had been unloaded.
“I wasn’t able to bring more than a couple weeks’ worth of clothes on the plane, some tools, a few references for work, and toiletries. But they’ll do.” She took the bag with the pillow and blankets from Cage and set about making up a bed. “You don’t mind that I’m sleeping on the couch, do you? It’s yours, so I probably should have asked.”
Cage raised an eyebrow. “Imagine that. And no, I don’t mind. I mind you crashing in here without anyone else.”
“What did you think I would be doing when I actually moved in?”
“I just assumed you’d wait until the place was more livable. If I’d known you were planning on staying the night, I would have stocked the fridge. Brought over some dishes.”
“That’s really kind of you. But I wouldn’t have expected it.” She looked around. “I saw pictures of what the place was like when you first started working here. You’ve done an amazing job, and if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be able to stay here tonight. So thank you.”
Cage’s eyes locked on hers. She held his gaze, and he was suddenly aware of the thinness of her dress, the way it hung just right on her curvy hips.
“You’re welcome.” He edged toward the door. “It’s been a long day, and it’ll be an early morning tomorrow. I’m sure you’re tired, too.”
“I’m exhausted, actually.”
“So I’ll say goodnight.” He turned to leave and then stopped, digging into the pocket of his frayed jeans. “Almost forgot. Your set of keys. The exterior ones, anyway.”
He dropped them into her outstretched hand without making contact. “You want mine, too?”
“Why?”
“Well, it’s your house now.”
“I’ll feel better knowing you’ve got them.”
He backed out of the room, rubbing his neck. “All right then. Goodnight. I’ll be just across the yard in the carriage house if you need anything.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Lock the doors, of course.” Cage’s feet thudded across the marble as he hurried outside.
Moonlight guided his way to the carriage house. He needed to get his thoughts straight. One minute he felt ready to argue with Dani until he turned purple, and the next he was happy to be with her and unwilling to leave her side.
He thought back to her compliment in the parlor. Her usually frenetic tone had softened into a rich, sweet sound. A sound that made his adrenaline kick on and his mind race. He realized, for a moment, he was seeing the real Dani–the relaxed woman who wasn’t hell-bent on saving old houses and nosing into history. Just a pretty girl who wasn’t sure where she belonged anymore.
He thought he might like to spend some more time with that woman.
So why had he bolted?
* * *
Dani knew Cage thought she was crazy spending the night in Ironwood, but the idea of leaving the house was foreign to her. The moment she’d crossed the threshold, she was home.
So here she was, camped out in a centuries-old parlor on someone else’s couch. A warm, woodsy scent clung to the cushions. Cage, of course.
Her relationship history was pretty average. Smart girl in school, friends with everyone, had a few dates. A couple of serious relationships in college. And then she started taking care of her mother and found herself too busy with work to really commit. Living at home with a disabled mother seemed to be a black mark for some guys, and that was fine with Dani. They certainly weren’t the type to waste time on. But Cage seemed different.
She kicked him out of her thoughts and focused on the room.
Aside from the wallpaper, it was in relatively good condition. Ornamental wall lamps, spaced out along both walls, bathed the room in weak light. The rest of the house was dark, locked up. But an old building is never quiet. The wood settles, the radiators–although turned off–gave the occasional ping. Every so often, a pipe near the kitchen rattled and sang.
Her mother would have loved it. She pressed her hand against her chest as pain tore through her. Even after so many months, the hollow ache of loss stole her breath. Her mother was the only person who’d always been there–her best friend–the person she spoke to every day, usually more than once. Although her mother had quit smoking twenty years ago, her voice still held the trademark huskiness of a smoker. But her tone was always soft, always happy when she heard from Dani. She’d been so grateful when Dani moved in four years ago when the diabetes and obesity began to control her life, and Dani had enjoyed taking care of her. It was the least she could do after all the years of support.
Her mother’s family had abandoned them years ago after a sour argument over inheritance money from Dani’s maternal grandmother. The rest of the family got the money, and Dani and her mother kept their dignity. It had been just the two of them for so long that Dani didn’t remember what it was like to have big family gatherings. She’d been content with a few good friends and her mother.
And then her mother was gone, and Dani couldn’t stand to stay in Indianapolis–in that house. Everything reminded her of loss and heartache, and she just wanted to forget.
Most of the time, she did a pretty good job. But right now, blanketed by the house’s emptiness, her thoughts caught up with her.
Desperate for a distraction, she called her former colleague and friend, Melinda Whitaker. She never failed to lighten Dani’s mood. After the mandatory pleasantries, Dani filled Melinda in on the bones in the basement and the alleged secret room in Ironwood.
“If that room exists, I’ll find it,” Dani said. “Think what could be in there. And I don’t care what the monetary value is. I just want to restore the house.”
And Cage had better not think she’d forgotten about his promise of more stories about John James. Dani was going to find out everything she could about this old place. She’d worry about sorting fact from fiction later.
“Yeah, yeah,” Melinda said. “So this Cage Foster. What’s he look like?”
“What does that matter?”
“I need a visual reference, Dani. Makes it easier to follow the conversation.”
Dani obliged, describing Cage with as many steamy adjec
tives as she could think of. Melinda ate it up, demanding more details until Dani spent more time yawning than talking. She promised Melinda she’d call as soon as she knew anything more about the bones or the secret room.
Relaxed from the conversation and sound of a familiar voice, Dani fluffed her pillow and settled down onto the lumpy coach. The humming air conditioner and buzzing fan created a pleasant, whirring melody. With the room still bathed in soft lights, Dani’s eyes drifted shut.
Somewhere on the edge of deep sleep, a spatter of noise pulled Dani back to consciousness. She groaned and closed her eyes again. Likely the house settling.
She rolled over and started to drift off again when the noise came again, louder. She sat up and looked around, listening.
The house is locked. You have lights on.
You’re a woman staying alone in a house with no landline. Someone could be creeping.
You have your cell phone. Cage is two hundred feet away.
A hollow thumping drifted from somewhere near the kitchen. Gooseflesh erupted over Dani’s arms, and then she laughed. She’d encountered her fair share of squatting animals in her career, including a particularly vicious raccoon that had left her with a scar and a rabies scare.
“Critters hanging out in the basement of an old house,” she spoke into the quiet. “Biggest cause of haunted houses.”
As if in answer, a low grumbling filled her ears. Then, a sharp hiss and what sounded like an angry growl.
Damn. Whatever was living in the basement made a lot of noise when it scavenged for food.
“The bones.” Her bare feet smacked the wood floor as she jumped up. She slipped into her sandals and then rummaged through the black bag containing her work essentials. Naturally, her big flashlight was on the bottom.
The light cast a bright glow through the parlor just as another angry yowl came from the basement. Fear nipped at Dani. What would she have to fight off down there?
She glanced out the window, half-hoping to see the lights in the carriage house still on, but it was dark. She hated to wake Cage. And she didn’t want him thinking she was just another spoiled city woman who couldn’t handle a simple animal issue.
