Here I was again, completely surrounded by the supernatural with nowhere to run. Still clutching my purse like it was some sort of fashionable life preserver, I took a deep breath and stepped through the gate.
That was the last thing I remembered.
Chapter Five—Ashland
My wife never ceased to amaze me, but lately the surprises weren’t anything good. To think she’d been spying on my dreams and accused me of cheating. I couldn’t believe this was the Carrie Jo I loved and married. When I first saw her, she took my breath away. The more I got to know her, the more I was amazed at her knowledge, but it wasn’t just that. She had a deep compassion for people, even though at times she doubted her own ability to help them.
I will always remember the first time I saw her—a beautiful woman standing at the foot of the stairs of my family home. She wore a red blouse with slightly puffy sleeves and a red and white skirt with a tiny rose pattern all over it. Her legs were tanned and lovely, her face even lovelier with amazing green eyes and wild curly hair. I could tell instantly that she had a sense of humor and that she would not be easily impressed with my southern-boy swagger.
Seeing her there that night was like a sign, or at least I thought it was. But now I didn’t know what to think. I stuffed some clothing in my overnight bag and headed out the door. I didn’t leave a note for her—why bother? It sounded like she thought I was a disgusting letch. Didn’t she know I loved her more than any woman on the planet? Hadn’t we been through enough together for her to know that I was hers forever? Apparently not. Locking the door behind me, I looked down the street to see if I could spot her car. I made a deal with God: if I saw it in the next sixty seconds, I would know she wanted to work it out and I would stay. I tossed my bag in the truck and waited. When she didn’t come, I sighed, pulled out of the driveway and drove to the marina. I’d stay on the Happy Go Lucky tonight and figure out what my next move was. It would be cold as heck on the water this time of year, but it would have to do. I stopped by the grocery store to grab a few things for supper. I was starving. And to think I had planned on giving Carrie Jo an anniversary gift that she would never forget. I shook my head, did my shopping and headed to the boat.
About an hour later, I was sitting on the deck chewing an overcooked hamburger and watching the moonlight splash on the water. This was not the way I had planned to spend my anniversary. Wiping my hands with a napkin, I checked my phone yet again for a text or voicemail from Carrie Jo. Nothing. Not a peep. I stared off into the distance, sipping my beer and wondering what I could do to fix our current situation. We’d been through too much, seen too much to give up now, but this wouldn’t work if only one of us was committed to seeing it through.
To make matters worse, I was seeing ghosts again. Not family ghosts this time, thankfully. Most were strangers, faded people who glared at me from curtained windows and sailed past me at inopportune moments. Even at home. Having other people around seemed to keep them away, though. Thank goodness for Doreen. When Carrie Jo wasn’t there, Doreen was. The more living souls in the house, the merrier. People told me my “sight” was a gift, but I wouldn’t call it that. I’d hated psychics and mediums when I was growing up, and now I’d become the thing I hated. Yeah, seeing ghosts was never fun. It always surprised me, and unlike on those stupid television shows, they never wanted anything or asked for anything. They didn’t speak to me or ask for my help “finding the light.” They were always unhappy or fixated on something. And likewise I never spoke to them or tried to communicate with them. Maybe I was going crazy like my mother.
To keep my mind straight, I decided to keep a diary. I wrote down what I saw, where I spotted the ghosts and the dates I saw them and for how long. I noticed that my ability to see ghosts was heightened during the full moon. What was I? Some sort of psychic werewolf? The only place I really found peace was on the water. I never saw anything out here. Once I thought I did, but it turned out to be nothing. And nobody had ever died on my boat—I’d bought it brand new just to be sure. Thank God for that.
Now I really thought I was going crazy. I saw a ghost yesterday, but it wasn’t a true ghost—it was Detra Ann, who I knew for a fact was alive and well. What made it stranger was the ghost appeared in my home, on the stairs where she had been shot—probably by another ghost. I had called out to her, but she disappeared, shimmering for a second and then fluttering away like the end of an old movie reel. Her appearance had surprised me so much that I yelled. Doreen had stepped into the hallway to check on me. She swore that there was no one else in the house. I couldn’t understand it. Maybe tomorrow I would go by the shop and see Detra Ann and Henri. I missed my friends. I missed my wife. How on earth had my life gone completely nuts?
I checked my phone one more time before I took it below to plug it in. I cleaned up the galley and headed to the shower. Carrie Jo wasn’t going to call me. My wife was a stubborn woman but normally not this unreasonable. Why not just call it a night? After my shower, I fell asleep reading a book on mastering extrasensory perception. I woke with a stiff neck to the sound of someone calling my name.
“Ashland! You there?”
“Carrie Jo?” I tossed the book to the side and walked out on the deck. Libby Stevenson, a former schoolmate and my new attorney, stood on the dock with two cups of coffee. Her long dark hair shone in the sunlight. I had never seen her in casual clothing before, but today she wore blue jeans with a purposeful hole in the knee and a comfortable-looking blue t-shirt that read LA: City of Dreams. “May I come aboard? I come bearing gifts.”
“Sure,” I said, running my hands through my wild hair. My eyes felt sticky and my brain was tired—I must have stayed out later than I thought. “How did you know I was here? Did you talk to Carrie Jo?”
“I just happened to be riding by and saw your truck here. I know it’s not a workday, but I figured I’d come take a peek at the infamous Happy Go Lucky.” She handed me a cup of coffee.
I took it from her with a smile. “Infamous? I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, it’s the talk of the office. Roger Bosarge says that this is the boat you caught that prize-winning fish in—he thinks either this boat is lucky or you cheated. That was at the Deep Sea Fishing Rodeo a few years ago, right?” I nodded. “Someday you’ll have to take me fishing.” Pretty white teeth gleamed at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“You like to fish?”
“Big time. Growing up that’s all we did. My dad believed in teaching us how to fish. I have to admit it’s been a while since I’ve tossed a hook in the water, but I think I remember how to catch one.” We sipped our coffees and sat in silence for a few minutes. “How did Mrs. Stuart like her gift?”
“I haven’t given it to her yet.”
“Oh, I see.” Libby’s blue eyes widened, and she clamped her lips for a second. “Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“For what it’s worth, I’d love to get a gift like that. Any woman would. I hope she knows how lucky she is.”
“Truth be told, I’m the lucky one.” I meant every word. I did love Carrie Jo. Despite this minor glitch, we’d gotten on very well considering the supernatural forces that continually arrayed themselves against us. She had helped me unravel my family’s sordid past and set us free from a variety of self-inflicted curses. I was indeed a lucky man.
“That’s sweet. You’re just too good to be true.”
I decided to change the subject. “So how is Jeremy? I heard he started his own veterinary clinic in Clarke County. Has he gotten over Kelly yet?”
Libby pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “You know how my brother is. He’s been in love with Kelly about as long as I’ve loved—” She stopped short, and I thought I saw a blush rise on her face. Taking another sip of her coffee, she continued, “Well, it’s been a long time. At least she didn’t leave him standing at the altar. He’s got his animals so I think he’ll be okay.”
“He’s got a terri
fic little sister—I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
She laughed dryly at the idea. “Relationship advice is truly not my field of expertise. If you need to evict a deadbeat, then I’m your girl. But I’m sure you’re right. My brother is kind, handsome and successful—like you. He won’t be lonely for long. Frankly, I would like to see him play the field a little more. Get out there and mingle. I think his biggest problem is he doesn’t know what he’s been missing.”
I smiled at the idea of Jeremy mingling. He had been an excellent receiver, the best football player on our team; the guy was fearless on the field, but when it came to women he could hardly put two sentences together, at least before he met Kelly. I was bummed that the two of them had split up, but that kind of stuff happened.
“Which brings me to my next question…what made you get into an all-fired rush to get married? I thought you would be single forever.”
“What makes you say that? I have never been a player.”
Libby took a seat beside me and carefully removed the plastic lid from her steaming drink. “Oh, come on. It’s me you’re talking to. The unofficial little sister to the entire Bulldogs football team—I know the truth, Ash. Let’s see, there was Shay Dawson, Aimee Wilkinson, Jenna Daughtry…”
“Shay and I are just friends, always have been. Aimee…I did like her, but she moved senior year. And Jenna wasn’t the kind of girl to stay with one guy for too long.”
“You know, Jenna’s changed a lot. Can you believe she married Tony Merritt? Better her than me. I don’t think I could ever be a preacher’s wife. And then there was Detra Ann. I always thought if I didn’t marry you, she’d be the one to put a ring on your finger. Y’all were inseparable.”
My phone rang, and I unplugged it from the charger. “This is Ashland.”
“Morning, sunshine! Is Carrie Jo coming in today? I told her I’d be here this morning, but she hasn’t showed up. If she’s going to be late could you ask her to bring some breakfast when she comes in? I’m starving.” Rachel Kowalski always talked like that. She threw whole paragraphs at you without taking a breath. Young, ambitious, and completely loyal. I felt guilty that I didn’t know what to tell her.
“I’m not at the house right now, so I’m not sure.”
“Did she mention coming in? Because that was the plan yesterday. Here I thought I was late. You two must have stayed up too late last night. Oh, the married life.”
“Actually, I stayed on the boat last night.”
She was silent for a moment. “Sorry, Mr. Stuart. Didn’t mean to be nosy. Well, I’ll call the house phone again. She’s not answering her cell, and her car is here.”
“Her car is there? Tell you what—I’ll head that way and bring you both some breakfast.”
“Sounds yummy. Thanks so much! Bye!”
I dialed Carrie Jo’s number, but she still wasn’t answering. Her cheery voice asked me to leave a voicemail. I hung up and tried the house phone. Still no dice. Doreen didn’t work on Sundays, so I’d have to go check myself. That familiar nagging feeling that something was wrong began to grow in my gut.
“Thanks for the coffee, Libby, but I have to go.”
“I overheard the conversation. I hope everything is all right with Carrie Jo. Need me to tag along?”
“No, I’m sure it’s nothing. My wife hasn’t been feeling well lately.”
“I’m just a phone call away if you need me.”
“Thanks.” I began collecting my things and practically ran down the pier to my car. What a jerk I’d been! I should have stayed home last night instead of pouting on the boat. I haphazardly dialed her phone again as I peeled out of the parking lot slinging rocks and dust. The harbormaster yelled at me, but I didn’t have time to explain.
No answer. This isn’t good.
Adjusting my rearview mirror as I sped down the causeway, I nearly screamed. For a second it appeared that someone was in my backseat. I saw a face—a man’s face. He had pale skin, dark hair that curled around the collar of his crumbling white shirt and empty eyes. I could barely form a thought before he vanished in a less than a second. My car swerved erratically until I got it under control. I swore under my breath as I tried to slow my breathing.
No. This isn’t good at all.
Chapter Six—Delilah
I ran as fast as my feet would carry me away from Adam’s shop. He shouted my name again, but I didn’t stop to answer him. I didn’t know where I planned to go—back to Maundy’s, I supposed. Where else could I go? Anywhere but with Adam. In my mind I could still see his sweaty back writhing over Blessing Harper, the leatherman’s middle daughter. She’d been panting beneath him, repeating his name hungrily, when I walked into the store room of the carpentry shop. I wouldn’t have even walked in if he’d bothered to close the door. It was almost as if he wanted to get caught.
Adam came running after me, still shirtless. “Stop, Delilah!” He reached toward me and grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around forcefully.
“Get your damn hands off me!” I shouted at him.
“So now you are swearing? What else has Maundy Weaver taught you?”
“Me? You have no room to criticize me, Adam Iverson! How could you do this?”
Suddenly he stiffened, his chin raised defiantly, and peered down at me with icy blue eyes. “This is your fault,” he said viciously as he pointed a finger at me. “You are the one who decided we should no longer be together. Remember the speech you gave me, sister? You are the one who wanted to forget about us, and for what? To claim an old name and a fortune you will never have. What would our parents think about you now, Delilah?”
I slapped him as hard as I could right across the face. My hand stung, and his pale skin instantly turned red with the vivid prints from my fingers and palm. He took a step toward me but then froze, his glance riveted to some action over my shoulder. I turned myself, relieved to see Jackson Keene walking toward us, his face dark with concern.
“Here comes your new lover to save you, sister. Now I see why you pushed me out of your bed.” I gasped at his insinuation, feeling now as if I had been the one slapped, especially in light of the fact Adam was walking away with bits of straw on his naked back. He didn’t wait around to hear my reply, not that I would have given him one. In his mind he would always be right, no matter how wrong he was. He was a fool. His tall, lumbering frame headed back to the carpentry shop.
Some women would have fallen apart; I knew a few who would do just that having worked in Maundy’s shop and in her private parlor for the past few months. The stories I’d heard I would never have imagined. Maundy was right—women did talk too much, about too many things and especially about one another. Unfortunately as of yet, I had heard nothing about Claudette Page. But I had heard plenty of tales of adultery, babies born out of wedlock, husbands who asked their wives for strange acts in the bedroom, and it was all proof of what I suspected. Marriage was not so much a thing to be desired as a hardship that crushed the soul—at least the female soul. The more I heard, the less I wanted to be Mrs. Anyone. How could I have ever imagined that I would be Adam’s wife?
Instead of weeping like a child, I relished the rebellion that rose up within me. Adam had been the one who wanted to return to Mobile, and I had agreed. He was the one who wanted to come back “home” and make a name for himself, and I had come with him. We had done everything he wanted and nothing else. I refused to live my life according to his whims anymore. I vowed to never be under the control of any man ever again. And I would never surrender my right to my family name and my inheritance. I was going to have everything I wanted in this life—even if that meant living without love! All the passion, all the love I had believed I felt for Adam had been nothing but an illusion.
“Miss Page, may I be of assistance?” Mr. Keene glared toward Adam’s shop, obviously ready to defend my honor. If only he knew that I didn’t have any honor left. But I did not worry that Adam would tell him. He would rather die than have the world know he ha
d been romantically involved with his “sister.” Why? Half the town knew the truth—I was the bastard child of Christine Cottonwood and Hoyt Page. The other half believed everything Claudette Page and her unofficial “morality society” told them. That I was a nobody, an incestuous scam artist bent on destroying the Page family name and with that the City of Mobile. Last week the woman had the nerve to send me a check for five thousand dollars and a one-way train ticket out of town. I ripped up the check and sent it back with a little note of my own.
Keep your money, Aunt Claudette. In the future, please send all correspondence to my attorney, Jackson Keene.
“Yes, Mr. Keene, I believe you can be of help to me. I would like to find a new place to live. I think it’s time I moved out of the store. In fact, I would like to sell the whole building.” He blinked, his intelligent eyes full of surprise.
“Mr. Iverson may have something to say about that.”
“I have full confidence in your negotiation talents. If Adam does cause a fuss, let him know that I am willing to relinquish all the other Iverson properties to him…and remind him that he has as much to lose as I do when it comes to reputation. All I want are the proceeds from this building. I am sure that is what my parents would have wanted.”
“I’ll make the arrangements, Miss Page, and begin inquiries on a new home. I think we can find something for you…here in town, correct?”
“Yes,” I said with a smile, pretending that he didn’t look relieved. “I intend to keep working with Maundy Weaver. Maybe something on Florence Street or perhaps Carlen? Is the Winslow home still available? The yellow one with the wisteria out front?” He smiled and nodded. Together we walked back to my shop, side by side on the dusty wooden walkway. I glanced back once to make sure Adam wasn’t glaring at us, but I needn’t have worried. He didn’t show his face again. He wouldn’t with Mr. Keene around. Seeing the street now crowded, I decided to take the back way around.
The Stars We Walked Upon (Seven Sisters Series Book 5) Page 5
