The Reunion: The Secret of Cypriere Bayou

by Jana DeLeon

  Tyler had gone back into silent mode and had spent the entire evening installing motion-activated cameras around the house. With no wireless internet available, he had to hard-wire the devices. Joelle had heard a lot of mumbling as he tried to decide where the wire would be least visible. As she didn’t have the skill set to offer any aid, she went quietly about her business and tried to stay out of his way.

  After several dust-filled hours, she’d finally stopped poking through things, and her thoughts turned to a long overdue shower. She was on her way down the hall to the bathroom when she heard a knock at the front door. Frowning, she glanced at her watch. Seven o’clock. The storm and the gloomy house made it feel later than it was, but still, who would be out in the middle of the swamp in a storm?

  She hurried down the stairs and arrived at the front door the same time as Tyler, who’d come from the kitchen.

  “Wait,” he said and pulled out his pistol. He opened the door a crack and peered outside, then opened it wide and motioned someone inside.

  The man was on crutches and looked to be a hundred years old. He pulled back the hood of his rain slicker and looked straight at Joelle. Tyler must know the man if he’d let him inside the house, so she gave him a polite smile. Then something in her clicked.

  “Amos,” she whispered. “Is it really you?”

  The old man broke out in a grin. “You remember?”

  Given the crutches and his obvious frailty, she was afraid to hug him, but she leaned over and gave the old caretaker a kiss on the cheek. “Of course I remember. You had all those wonderful tools.”

  “You liked my nail gun the best, but your mother wouldn’t let you use it. You pitched a righteous fit over it, if I remember correct.”

  Joelle smiled. “I’m sure your memory is fine, although I don’t relish recalling any of my somewhat spoiled behavior. Please come into the kitchen and sit.”

  “Can’t right now. My niece is out front waiting to take me to a cousin’s in New Orleans. I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow so they can check my foot. They’re thinking they might have to reset it, so I might be gone a couple more days. But I promise you, when I get back, we’ll sit down and have us a chat.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Joelle said. “Take care, Amos, and thank you so much for dropping by.”

  Joelle watched as the caretaker navigated the stone driveway and hopped into a sedan, then Tyler closed the door and drew the dead bolt into place.

  “He seemed ancient when I was a child. I can’t believe he’s still alive,” Joelle said. “How old is he?”

  “I’m not sure even Amos knows, but my dad says he has to be in his eighties at least.”

  “He was the caretaker. I remember following him around—little snapshots of Amos fixing the toilet or repairing the driveway.”

  “He’s still the caretaker—or was until he broke his foot.”

  Joelle stared. “He’s been here all these years? Why in the world did he stay?”

  Tyler’s expression softened. “He said he was waiting on you girls to return.”

  “Oh!” She covered her mouth with her hand as her eyes watered with potential tears. “That’s so lovely...and sad. I’m glad he was still alive to see us return.”

  “Me, too.”

  All the events of the day rushed in, overwhelming her, and Joelle choked back a sob. “Well, I was about to jump in the shower.”

  Tyler nodded. “Go ahead. I have some things to finish up here, then I’ll need one myself.”

  She hurried upstairs and hopped in, almost weeping with relief as the steamy water ran over her tired, filthy body. Forcing her mind to a blank slate, she felt her muscles start to loosen. No doubt, she could stand here for hours—or until the hot water ran out—but that probably wouldn’t be fair to Tyler, who’d earned his hot shower as much as she had. She lathered up her hair and body and rinsed, then dried off, pulled on her robe and headed into her bedroom.

  Now, squeaky clean, she had a completely different dilemma—bra or no bra. Normally, after-shower time was her favorite part of the wardrobe day. Everything restrictive came off and comfortable worn clothes went on, but normally, she wasn’t bunking with a bodyguard.

  A hot bodyguard.

  She shook her head, not about to let her mind dwell on the fact that she was locked in a spooky old house, completely cut off from the rest of the world, and her protector was the most attractive man she’d ever seen up close and personal. Fortunately, his personality dimmed any carnal thoughts she might have had if the circumstances had been different, and that was a really good thing. The last thing Joelle needed was a random fling with a man who clearly had issues with intimacy.

  Sighing, she pulled a sports bra out of her suitcase. It was a reasonable compromise and would allow her to venture downstairs to fix something to eat without feeling cheap and loose. Given her luck lately, she might need to sleep in it. A mental visual of fleeing the house in the rainstorm and being collected by Carter or his deputy came to the forefront of her mind. Probably because she’d seen it played out over and over in late-night suspense movies.

  Of course, in the movies, the sexy hero always rescued the beautiful heroine and then gave her a passionate kiss, which led to them living happily ever after with a cottage and a golden retriever. She sighed again. And that’s exactly why movies were fiction. She dug into her suitcase again and pulled out a book. Sleep wasn’t easy for her under the best of circumstances and she’d packed several books, figuring on long, sleepless nights.

  She glanced down at the title, then pulled the rest of the books out and scattered them on the bed. Romances. Every single book. She was batting a thousand. Where was a nice boring literary work when you needed it? She scooped all but one of the books up and tossed them back in the suitcase before zipping it and placing it in the corner next to the bed.

  The remaining book, she placed on the nightstand next to the lantern. The beds all contained rumpled covers from the night before. After their dash downstairs, no one had felt like going back to bed, so they’d sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and trying to ready themselves for the exhumation. Joelle pulled the sheets and blankets straight on all three beds and placed the pillows neatly against the headboards, wishing her sisters were joining her again tonight.

  It was such a big room for one person.

  Last night, with all three of them in there, it had seemed so much smaller, so cozy and intimate, but tonight it almost felt institutional, not dissimilar to the orphanages she frequented. She thought briefly about moving to one of the smaller rooms, but except for the one Tyler occupied, none of the others had been cleaned. The last thing she felt like doing this late was tackling cleaning one of those cluttered, filthy rooms, especially given that she’d already showered.

  First thing tomorrow, she’d find a better location and get it ready for occupancy. A single bedroom wouldn’t feel as lonely. But now, it was time to rustle up dinner.

  As she walked down the hall, the door to the bathroom swung open and Tyler walked out, a wave of steam following him. He wore only sweatpants, and his ripped chest and abdomen still glistened with moisture. She was struck momentarily silent as she took in every single perfect inch of him.

  When she realized she was assessing him like a twenty-ounce porterhouse steak, she yanked her gaze up to his face and saw a hint of a smile lurking behind his otherwise blank expression. A blush ran up her neck because she’d been caught ogling him.

  “I was, uh,” she stammered, “I was headed downstairs to fix something to eat. There’re leftover finger sandwiches, crackers and stuff from last night. I know Alaina stocked the refrigerator with meat and stuff, but I was afraid to start cooking lest the power go out in the middle.”

  You’re rambling.

  She clamped her mouth shut as his smile broadened. Damn him
! He was actually enjoying her discomfort. That was so not the behavior of a movie hero.

  “Leftovers are fine,” he said finally. “Let me grab a shirt and some shoes and I’ll join you.”

  She watched him as he walked away. His backside was just as impressive as the front. As he started to walk into his bedroom, he glanced back and grinned. She whipped around, holding in a groan, and ran straight into the kitchen, where she opened the refrigerator door and promptly stuck her head inside.

  What in the world has gotten into me?

  She hadn’t behaved that way since she was an awkward teen—far, far in the past. Now she was a successful, educated woman who’d had at least one serious relationship and several semi-serious ones. Yet, here she was, almost thirty years old and acting like she was fifteen and he was a star from Twilight.

  The night just kept getting longer.

  * * *

  THE LIGHT SHINING in her eyes awakened Joelle, and she put one hand up to shield herself as she leaned up in bed. Her book lay beside her, long since forgotten when she nodded off reading it. Assuming she left the lamp on, she turned to the side, and froze when she saw that the lamp didn’t emit even a hint of a glow. She bolted upright, trying to ascertain where the light came from, and finally found the source in the far corner of the bedroom.

  And that’s when panic set in.

  The light shimmering in the corner was tall—at least five feet from the floor to the top of it—and as it grew brighter, it began to take shape. Joelle fixed her gaze on it, afraid to even blink, and gasped as the lines of light grew solid and formed the outline of a human body.

  I’m dreaming.

  It wasn’t a bad idea, except for the part where she was positive she was awake.

  I’m imagining it.

  Also not a bad idea, except for the part where she had twenty-twenty vision and was completely sane.

  She reached for her pistol, resting on the edge of the nightstand, and gripped the cold metal in her hands. It seemed silly given that the corporeal being was anything but human, but the weight of the gun made her feel better.

  The light seemed to pulse, and then the figure in the center sharpened once more and Joelle gasped.

  Mother!

  There was no mistaking those high cheekbones, the wide-set eyes and the big smile. Her long hair seemed to billow around her, as if caught in a breeze. Her long white gown rippled along with her hair as she drew closer to the bed.

  “You came,” her mother said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t find your way back here. I waited for you.”

  A sob broke through and Joelle dropped her hands, letting the gun fall out of her grasp and onto the bed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “I waited for you, but I grow weak.”

  The light started to drift back from the bed and Joelle sprang up and hurried to the end of the bed. “Wait! Please don’t go. We’re trying to find you. Do you know where you are?”

  The ghost looked confused for a moment, then gave her a sad look. “I’m here. And then I’m not. I grow weak, but I waited. Now, you need to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Away from here. It’s not safe. I’m tired.”

  The light began to fade and Joelle reached out one hand. “Please don’t leave me.”

  “I’m here. Sometimes. And then I’m not. I’m here...”

  And with one last flicker, the light disappeared completely, casting the room into complete darkness.

  Joelle jumped out of bed and ran to the corner, waving her hands around. The hair on her arms stood on end from the electrical charge, but otherwise, no indication remained that something had been here before.

  She went back to the bed and flopped down on the end of it. No one would believe her. With all the stress she was under, everyone would assume she dreamed it, or imagined it, or drank heavily. Heck, if she was someone else and heard this story, she’d think the same thing.

  Now that the light was gone, the room was so dark, she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. She’d fallen asleep with the lamp on, so she assumed the power had gone out sometime during the night. She glanced at her watch and saw it was 3:00 a.m. Way too early to be awake, but she seriously doubted she’d be able to go back to sleep. Maybe she’d suggest to Tyler that they purchase a generator and spotlights and do all the work at night and sleep during the day.

  Yeah, he wouldn’t think that was strange at all.

  She crawled across the bed and picked up the lantern, but couldn’t even see well enough to light it. Thankful she’d brought the lantern and a flashlight, she picked up the flashlight and clicked it on. The beam of light cast directly at the paned-glass patio doors that led onto the balcony off the bedroom.

  At first, the light reflected across the glass, causing a glare. Then her vision sharpened and she saw a masked face staring through the door at her.

  Chapter Ten

  A bloodcurdling scream sent Tyler vaulting straight up out of bed, grabbing his pistol on the way. He bolted down the hall to Joelle’s room and tried to open the door, but it was still locked from the inside. Cursing himself for telling her to draw the inside dead bolt, he banged on the door, yelling for her to open it and hoping like hell she was in a position to do so.

  He was just about to start kicking it open when he heard the dead bolt slide back. Joelle threw open the door and pointed to the balcony.

  “He was there,” she said, her voice breaking, “looking through the door.”

  Tyler rushed across the room and threw open the patio door, Joelle close behind. He took her flashlight and leaned over the railing, shining it on the kitchen patio. The stone patio wouldn’t leave any indication that someone had passed, but he could see branches broken at the edge of the patio where the swamp began. Maybe the damage was from the storm, but it was possible it was from something else.

  “Come with me,” he said and ran down the hallway.

  He looked back as he skipped down the stairs two at a time, figuring he might need to slow down so that Joelle could keep up, but either fear or excellent conditioning had her keeping pace. Satisfied that she was still in sight, he took off at a dead run as soon as he hit the entry floor and rushed out onto the kitchen patio.

  Shining the flashlight into the brush at the edge of the patio, he saw the signs that something big had passed through here and without regard to covering its passage. He directed the light to the ground and saw the clear print of a hiking boot where the rain had washed the leaves away, leaving a patch of mud.

  If Joelle wasn’t there, he’d take off into the swamp after him, but he couldn’t leave her unprotected. Purcell’s death had already unearthed several people with hidden agendas at the estate. He had no reason to assume only one man was left to carry on business now, or that multiple people were acting independently of each other. Carter had already said that since the start of the events, he’d always felt that whatever was going on was more organized than it seemed.

  Luring Tyler away from the house might be just what they wanted to do.

  “Let’s get back inside,” Tyler said.

  He waited until Joelle hurried into the kitchen, then pulled the patio door shut, sliding the dead bolt back into place. Even under the cover of the balcony, the steady flow of rain had blown across them, leaving them both damp.

  A stack of folded towels and rags sat at the end of the breakfast table and Joelle pulled two off the top and handed one to him. “I never got around to putting them up last night,” she said as she ran the towel across her face.

  “You’re not the housekeeper. I don’t expect you to clean up after everyone,” he said as he lit the lantern on the kitchen cabinets. The light started small, then grew into a large flame, casting a dim yellow glow across the kitchen.

  She shrugg
ed. “Someone’s got to do it, and sometimes doing mundane things helps my focus.”

  Tyler wiped his face and arms and nodded. He understood exactly what she meant. He’d spent countless hours volunteering for hard labor because he needed to work out a security problem that he hadn’t found a good solution for. Manual labor unlocked his creativity in a way sitting and pondering never did.

  He looked over at Joelle as she wiped her arms with the towel and his eyes locked on her thin white T-shirt, currently clinging to her otherwise bare breasts. Before she looked up, he managed to avert his eyes, but no way was he going to be able to get that image out of his head.

  Joelle was quite simply the most beautiful woman he’d ever encountered.

  He held in a sigh that his mind had finally admitted what his body had known from the first moment he’d met her. Why couldn’t she have been the ugly sister? Wasn’t every family supposed to have one? Instead, all three of Ophelia LeBeau’s daughters looked as if they’d stepped off the pages of magazines, and with seemingly no effort if the amount of time they spent getting ready the prior morning was any indication.

  Life simply wasn’t fair.

  Growing up in Calais, he’d dated pretty girls, nice girls and girls with great personalities, but in the years he’d been away, all of the ones who were “wife material” had settled down with Calais boys or moved away to capture bigger fish. He’d expected his return to Calais to be “safe” in far more ways than just physically, especially since according to reports from William, the only single women in Calais were newly widowed grandmothers.

  His dad had conveniently forgotten the LeBeau sisters in his statement. Or maybe it had been a deliberate oversight.

  Tyler knew his father wanted to see him paired up and happy, as he and Tyler’s mom had been for so many years before she passed away. But that sort of life wasn’t on Tyler’s radar. Not now. Not ever. Which was why staring at beautiful women’s essentially naked breasts was something he had absolutely no business indulging in.