"Your young man hasn't come back to stay with you, has he, Kathryn?"
"My young...?" Kathryn laughed sharply. "I don't believe this. What do you people do, keep a list of what I do and who I do it with? No, Amos, you needn't call out the morals squad. My 'young man' is safely back in the States."
"But you'll be joining him in Miami, as he told Ted Nash?"
"This is incredible! Who's Ted Nash?"
"The pilot who flew him out."
Kathryn smiled grimly and started for the house.
"Well, you can give Mr. Nash a gold medal, Amos. He's got his facts straight. Would you like the name of Jason's hotel, just so your records are complete?"
The two men fell in on either side of her.
"Kathryn," Amos said, "please understand. We're not trying to interfere in your life."
"You could have fooled me."
"We're simply concerned for your welfare. Elvira said..."
Kathryn came to a dead stop and swung towards him. "Don't stop now, not when this is just getting interesting. What did Elvira say?"
The lawyer cleared his throat. "Well, she happened to talk to Ada Truman, and Ada mentioned—"
"Ada said you'd bought a mighty strange bathin' costume and a bunch of men's clothin' and so far as anybody can tell, there's no man out here with you to sashay in front of in that costume or to dress up in any of that clothin'," Hiram said in one long, triumphant breath.
Kathryn looked from one man to the other, her face pale except for two crimson splashes high across her cheeks.
"That's one of the things I really love about this island," she said coldly. "There's such marvelous privacy."
"Ada's only lookin' out for you, Kathryn. It's what we all do for each other."
"Well, I don't need looking after. Please tell that to your wife, and to Ada, and to anybody else who decides I need to be spied on."
Hiram bristled with indignation. "It isn't spyin'!"
"No? What would you call it, then? I make some purchases and the next thing I know, I'm a topic of discussion."
"You listen here, Miz Russell. Just 'cause my Elvira has your well-bein' at heart—"
"I didn't ask her to have anything of mine at heart!"
"Now, now," Amos said hastily. "Hiram, Kathryn... there's no reason to quarrel." The attorney slid one arm around Kathryn's stiff shoulders and the other around Hiram's. "We didn't come out here to argue, did we, Hiram?"
The old man didn't answer. Then, slowly, he nodded his grizzled head.
"I s'pose not."
Kathryn pulled free of Amos's arm. "Why did you come here, then?"
"We came in a professional capacity, Kathryn. I wanted you to know that I had returned to the island. And Hiram, here, thought he'd best make arrangements to begin work on your house."
"To begin...?" She stared at Amos blankly, and then she remembered. He was talking about the repairs that had brought her to the Caribbean in the first place. The rotting moldings, the creaky outside steps, the walls, the antiquated heating and plumbing, everything that had once seemed so urgent. "Oh," she said, "of course. The repairs." She forced a smile to her lips. "Well, in that case, why don't we go into the house? You gentlemen can have some iced tea while I change out of this wet bathing suit."
"Heard you might have some ale on hand," Hiram said.
Kathryn looked up in time to see Amos elbow Hiram in the ribs.
"You heard right," she said coldly. "Would you like some?"
The old man met her gaze unflinchingly. "Ale doesn't strike me as a woman's drink."
"All right, what is this?" Kathryn glared from one elderly face to the other. "I want to know what's going on."
"I'll tell you what's goin' on," Hiram said. "It isn't healthy, young woman like you out here all this time by yourself, buyin' things that don't make sense, talkin' to somebody nobody else can see."
"Hiram," Amos said sharply, putting his hand on the other man's arm, but Hiram shook it off.
"I'm only speakin' the truth and she knows it. Elvira said—"
"Elvira's been busy as a bee, hasn't she?" Kathryn snapped furiously.
"Calm down, Kathryn."
"I am calm. And you have ten seconds to tell me why you're here before I throw the both of you off my property!"
Amos shot Hiram a warning look.
"I told you already. Hiram's here to check things over. I'm here to let you know that I'm back and ready to help you sell Charon's Crossing. Surely, that meets with your approval?"
"Why ask me? You seem to know all the answers already." Kathryn marched through the front door and headed straight for the stairs. "I'm sure both you gentlemen know, where everything is in this house. Make yourselves comfortable and if you run out of small talk, you might want to inventory the fridge or the pantry. I'll be down in five minutes."
Back straight, she trotted up the steps, strode down the hall to the bedroom and slammed it after her with enough force so that a small, badly faded oil portrait of some long-ago Russell flew off the wall.
She scooped it up, slung it into a chair, then shrugged off the towel and hurled it across the room.
"Nosy old bastards," she muttered.
"Now, Kathryn, be polite."
She whirled towards the sound of Matthew's voice. Dressed in the jeans and T-shirt, his hair still wet from the sea, he was leaning back against the door, arms folded and feet crossed.
"Why should I?" She wrenched open the armoire, pulled out a cotton dress, and tossed it on the bed. "They weren't very polite to me! You should have heard the things they said, especially Hiram."
"I did hear," Matthew said calmly. "I was there, right beside you, all the time."
Just for an instant, her face softened. "Were you?"
He nodded. "They're concerned for your welfare, sweetheart."
Kathryn's chin tilted. "Oh, come on! They're just a pair of old gossips. You'd think the people on this island would have something better to do than waste time talking about what I bought."
"Sweetheart." Matthew walked towards her and clasped her shoulders. "Try and see it from their point of view. You're living all alone in the middle of nowhere, and all of a sudden you go into town and buy a load of men's clothing."
"So?" Her eyes flashed with defiance. "Is that a crime?"
"Elvira's probably not forgotten the day she found us talking together."
"She didn't see you, remember?"
"She saw you behaving oddly, and now Amos and Hiram come along and see what appears to be some even stranger behavior, down on the beach."
Kathryn didn't flinch. "What they see or don't see, and what I buy or don't buy, is no one's business but my own."
"You're right. But there's no need to be angry. They mean well."
Kathryn glared a couple of seconds longer. Then she sighed and slumped against him.
"I know. It's just that it's so hard pretending you don't exist."
"I don't," Matthew said softly.
"Don't say that!" She pulled back, her mouth trembling. "You do exist. Why, you're as real as they are!"
"To you."
"Matthew, stop it. If you're trying to upset me—"
"You must face facts. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I have no substance."
"You do!" Kathryn threw her arms around his neck. "And I won't listen to this. I don't give a damn about the rest of the world. I'm going to send Hiram and Amos away and—"
"You will not!" Matthew held her out at arm's length. "What of the repairs you'd planned?"
"I don't want Hiram or anybody else underfoot."
"But you must fix this house, in order to sell it."
"I've changed my mind. I'm not going to sell."
"What?"
"How could I sell Charon's Crossing? What would become of you?"
It was an excellent question, one he had spent time pondering himself, but he was not going to tell her that.
"I'll endure." He forced a smile to his lips.
"I can always learn to rattle chains for the amusement of the next owner."
"And how will we spend time together, if the house isn't mine?" Kathryn pulled out of his hands and folded her arms. "Well? Any clever answers?"
"Kathryn. Darling, be reasonable."
"No. No, you be reasonable. How will I see you, if I sell this place?"
Matthew took a deep breath. "You won't," he said softly. "Once you go back to New York, this will all be over."
"No!"
"Yes." He caught her as she started to turn away. "Dammit, Kathryn..."
"Is that what you want?" She swung towards him, her eyes like tear-stained flowers. "For this to be over? For us never to be together again?"
He knew what he should say, and what he should do. But he couldn't, and his arms closed tightly around her.
"Nay," he whispered, "nay, my love. I would give anything to be with you but it is impossible."
"Nothing is impossible," she said fiercely. She kissed him, then stepped out of his arms. "Turn your back, please."
He wanted to laugh, as much at her silly, sweet modesty as at her defiance, but he could not. The modesty was amusing. The defiance was not. It worried him.
"Kathryn," he began, "listen to me."
"Are you going to shut up and turn around? Or am I going to go into another room?"
He sighed, decided there was no way to win this battle at the moment, and vanished.
* * *
An hour later, Kathryn, Amos and Hiram had completed a circuit of the house and were standing in the kitchen.
"Well?" Kathryn said. "What do you think?"
Hiram scratched his head. "Kathryn, I keep tellin' you, this isn't what we'd agreed to do. I was supposed to come out here, see what needed repairin' and give you an idea of the cost so you could decide whether or not you wanted to go ahead with the work."
"I know all that, Hiram, but I've changed my plans. I don't want a lot of work done on the house. I'm willing to do whatever will keep it from falling down around my ears, but that's about all."
Hiram sighed. "Well, in that case, the one thing you've got to deal with is that hot water heater."
"I couldn't agree more. I'm getting tired of trying to shower in a thimbleful of lukewarm water."
"No, it's more serious than that. My guess is that heater is fixin' on quittin' any day now. It works on propane, you know." Hiram jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Tank's right out back, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Is the tank empty?"
"No. And that's not the problem. Have you ever noticed a funny smell comin' from that cellar? Down where the heater is?"
"Nothing but the damp and the mold."
"Propane gas has no smell of its own. Gas company adds hydrogen sulfide to make it stink like rotten eggs as a warnin'."
"A warning of what?" Kathryn sighed. "Hiram, I'm trying to follow you but I'm not getting anywhere."
"What I'm sayin' is that that heater looks to be on its last legs. Get yourself a gas leak, get enough gas built up, add the teensiest spark or flame and boom, this place goes up like a bomb."
Kathryn shuddered. "Can you fix it?"
"Sure. But I'll need to order some parts, arrange for a new heater..." He scratched his head. "Probably can do it next week sometime. If you can't stay around that long, just give me an okay now and—"
"I'll be here."
Amos's brows lifted. "There's no need to stay on, Kathryn. I can take care of this for you."
"Thanks, but I'll deal with it."
"Won't be comfortable here," Hiram said pointedly. "For safety's sake, I'm goin' to have to shut off the electricity to the heater right now." He looked straight at Kathryn. "You won't have any hot water except what you boil on the stove. Might be better if you moved into town."
"I'll manage."
"Kathryn." Amos gave her a pleasant smile. "Have you thought of the ramifications? You'll have to heat water to bathe, to wash dishes..."
"Will it be safe?" Kathryn asked. She cleared her throat. "Until you can fix it, I mean. I, ah, I wouldn't want anything to happen to this house."
"Oh, it'll be safe enough. I'll shut off the gas to the heater. Just so long as you don't smell nothin' and nobody opens that valve and strikes a match, you'll be fine."
"Still," Amos said officiously, "as your attorney, I would advise you to vacate Charon's Crossing at once."
Kathryn's smile was cool. "It's a little late to start offering me advice, isn't it? Go ahead, Hiram. Do whatever you have to do."
* * *
Amos steered his car slowly down the driveway. He was silent, as was Hiram.
They were almost at the gate before Amos stirred.
"Well, what do you think?"
Hiram snorted. "Since when do you care what me or anybody else thinks, Mr. Attorney?"
Amos stopped the car and looked at the handyman.
"I am asking your opinion. Do you wish to give it?"
Hiram Bonnyeman sighed and leaned back in the seat.
"I think Elvira and Ada were right. That girl's actin' strange."
Amos sighed, too, and flexed his hands on the steering wheel.
"I agree. I don't quite understand it, but... Perhaps she's become ill. Perhaps she has a history of illness."
"Don't you know?" Hiram said sternly. "Goodness sakes, man, you're her lawyer!"
"I was her father's lawyer. There's a difference. He didn't tell me anything about the girl, except that he thought she, of all the people he knew, would benefit the most from inheriting that bloody pile of stone."
Hiram snorted. "Man must have been crazy. Elvira's great-grandma was alive when we got married. Old lady spooked the life out of everybody on this island, talkin' of things she'd seen out at Charon's Crossin'."
"Oh, don't let's get back to that," Amos said impatiently. "Whatever that girl's difficulty is, it has nothing to do with ghosts."
"What, then? Why would she buy all that stuff, make out as if she was laughin' and talkin' with somebody, if she hadn't seen somethin' nobody else could see?"
"How would I know?" Amos said with sharp impatience and started the car again. "I'm an attorney, not a psychiatrist."
"You think that's what she needs? A head doctor?"
"I think she needs to get off the island and back into her own life. And she will do exactly that next week, when she flies to Florida to meet her young man and they return to New York together."
"I agree," Hiram said with an emphatic nod of his head.
Amos nodded, too, and let out the clutch. "Just another week," he said, "and then Miss Kathryn Russell will be gone."
He stepped hard on the gas, and the car shot out the open gates that marked the boundaries of Charon's Crossing.
* * *
Long after the dust of the car's passing had cleared, Matthew was still standing inside the gates, his hands wrapped tightly around the bars, his eyes fixed sightlessly on the distant horizon.
Chapter 19
"Those interfering old men!" Kathryn, standing at the kitchen sink, up to her elbows in hot, soapy water, glared at Matthew while a kettle boiled on the stove. "Get down the rest of those glasses, will you please?"
Matthew eyed the shiny array of glassware, dishes, pots and pans and assorted odds and ends that lined virtually every surface in the kitchen. Kathryn had been scrubbing and polishing since dawn and from what he could tell, she showed no signs of stopping.
"Kathryn," he said gently, "this is foolish. There isn't any reason to be so angry."
"Angry? Do I look angry?" She plucked a wine goblet from his hand, glowered at it as if it were the enemy, then plunged it into the water, "I am not angry. I don't know where you got that idea."
"They meant well. Surely, you know that."
"Ha!"
"It is true. The both of them are worried about you."
Kathryn jerked another glass from his hand and submerged it in the water.
"Amos was so worried that he took off wit
hout so much as a by-your-leave within days of my arriving on this island." The water roiled as she swished the glass through it. "And Hiram was so worried that he put me dead last on his list of people who had jobs that needed doing."
"Kathryn, sweetheart—"
"Jason's another one," she said furiously. "You should have heard him this afternoon!"
"This afternoon? You spoke with him today?"
"I called him while you were reading." Kathryn plucked a goblet from the soapy water, rinsed it off, and set it into the dish drainer. " 'Jason,' I said, 'I'm really sorry to tell you this over the telephone but there's no other way.' " She looked at Matthew, her eyes snapping. "I'd expected him to be upset, I guess, even angry, although he must have suspected I was going to break things off after the way things went when he was here, but—"
"You ended your engagement?"
"Of course."
Matthew knew it wasn't right to feel so pleased. There was no sense in pretending Kathryn would not marry eventually, and even to hope such a thing was selfish and cruel. He loved her; he wanted her to find happiness.
But not with that fop, Jason. Not with any man he knew, for that matter. It was one thing to think in broad, philosophical terms, to tell himself that she deserved a rich and full life once she left Elizabeth Island...
And another entirely to have to envision her in any arms but his.
The goblet he'd been holding shattered in his knotted fist. He blinked and looked down dumbly as shards of glass bit into his flesh and rained to the floor.
"Matthew?" Kathryn swung towards him, her eyes wide. "Oh, what happened? Are you cut?" She grabbed his hand and a thin line of blood oozed up across the palm.
"I'm all right."
"You're not. You're bleeding."
"I'm fine, for God's sake." Matthew snatched back his hand, wiped it on the seat of his jeans, and glowered at her. "Perhaps it would have been kinder to have given the man such news when you see him next week in Florida."
"Let me see that hand, please."
"Kathryn, dammit—"
"Do you have any idea how often you say that?" Kathryn took his hand, tugged him onto the terrace and into the sun, and peered intently at the cut. "Kathryn dammit? As if it were all one word."
His throat constricted as he looked at her bent head. Sunlight had put glints of flame into the dark silk which had parted to fall forward over her shoulders, exposing the delicate curve of her neck. God, how he loved her!
Charon's Crossing (A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel) Page 32
