Lost Yesterday

by Jenny Lykins

  LOST YESTERDAY

  By Jenny Massie Lykins

  Previously published 1997 Jenny Lykins by Berkley/Jove

  Copyright 2013 Jenny Massie Lykins Smashwords Edition

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  To Richie,

  The standard for all my heroes.

  My best friend, my hero, my husband.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Memphis

  July, 1996

  The ghost leaned against a massive white column on the upper veranda, his gaze surveying the ever-changing shimmers of light on the Mississippi, as if searching for something only he could see.

  Marin Alexander hadn’t thought she believed in ghosts. But now her breath caught in her throat and all thoughts of Pierce Hall’s tourists flew from her mind. This was no straggling visitor dallying to watch the fiery sunset, but a translucent figure of a man. The setting sun filtered through his body, casting no shadow on the weathered boards at his feet.

  Snowy white shirt, black waistcoat, and snug black trousers accentuated the image of lean, sinewy power. The faint outline of the banister was visible through his muscular frame. Marin swallowed hard, caught by a mysterious force far greater than any physical power. Icy chills danced over her rigid spine.

  The ghost turned and looked directly at her. Fading sunlight shone through a pair of sky-blue eyes.

  Marin felt no threat; in fact, her initial fear melted away. But just as she began to question this odd sense of comfort, the ghost shook his head, then vanished.

  Oh, heavens! Now she'd seen everything! Or had she, really? She’d been under a lot of stress with the new job. And the looming anniversary of Ryan’s death weighed heavily on her mind. But no, she knew what she'd seen. She glanced around for other witnesses to corroborate her story, but she was the last one to leave Pierce Hall, and she knew it. As director of Memphis’s oldest antebellum town house, she always made the final rounds to check the locks and activate the security system.

  Not that security helped against the netherworld.

  A sense of exhilaration almost equal to her shock swept through her. She'd finally seen one of the ghosts!

  Three separate spirits had been sighted at Pierce Hall, but this one didn't fit any of their descriptions. Visitors and docents alike had described a small child, an ancient black woman, and a young man in his early twenties. From their dress, they all seemed to be from different eras. Her ghost was in his mid-thirties. He was definitely not the inexperienced youth sighted by others.

  Marin scanned the now unobstructed view of the river. Her first instinct was to go investigate the haunted area, but common sense forced her back toward the brightly lit interior. After all, she was there alone, and no one would be returning before nine in the morning.

  Once inside the house, panic finally kicked in - with a vengeance. How ridiculous to have imagined she wouldn't feel fear after seeing a ghost. She rushed through the house, checking windows and doors, then, with a misguided sense of relief, switched on the alarm system on her way out.

  Leave it to her to see a ghost with no other witnesses around. And a new ghost, at that.

  Her car was a welcome and calming sanctuary. She slammed the door and hit the electric lock. Grabbing the rearview mirror and studying her face, she was relieved when the cool gray eyes that stared back appeared lucid and not glazed. Though her normally tanned skin looked pale, her cheeks had the glow of health about them. No, she could definitely rule out hallucination. Maybe.

  As she floored the red Mustang the short distance to her condo on the Memphis bluffs, the warm air from the open windows tossed her sun-streaked hair and cleared her head.

  Who was the ghost? The waning orange sun behind him had made his features somewhat indistinct. Except his eyes. His eyes had been the exact same shade as the summer sky. Blurred though his visage had been, Marin knew she would be able to pick him out of a picture if she found one. There would be no mistaking that face - blurry or not.

  She shivered in the humid July air as she pulled into a parking space and cut the engine. Strange how he'd seemed almost irreverent when he turned to look at her. Only moments before, while he'd faced the river, he'd emanated an overwhelming sadness.

  Get a grip, Alexander. You probably hallucinated from the heat.

  Marin shook off her woolgathering and collected an armful of purse, briefcase, keys, and assorted junk. She bumped the car door shut with her hip and juggled everything into a manageable pile. Between her armload and her shaking knees, she wondered if she would make it to her apartment.

  "Marin! Howya doin', neighbor?" Bill Lindsey fell in beside her, his arms as laden as hers. He quick-stepped to the door and grabbed the handle before she could reach it. Holding the door with his foot, he shoved a sheaf of papers under his chin and rearranged his load while he waited for her to pass through. A lock of thick blond hair fell into his eyes.

  "Thanks, Bill. Next time it's my turn."

  "Say, Marin! I've got a couple of T-bones in the fridge. Want to come over and burn 'em with me?"

  A nice-looking guy with a great personality, Bill had been pursuing her for weeks. But since Ryan's death, Marin had sworn off relationships of any kind.

  "Sorry, but I've got a whole briefcase full of work, and I'm expecting a couple of phone calls." The fortuitous ring of the phone jangled from within her apartment when they stepped off the elevator.

  "That may be one of the calls, now. See ya, Bill. Raincheck?"

  She fumbled for the key while the phone gave another insistent ring.

  "Well, if you get hungry later on, give me a call."

  She shoved open the door with a distracted nod and scooped up the cordless phone in the middle of the third ring.

  "What! Hello!"

  "Marin, what's up? Did you just get in?"

  "Yeah, I just walked in the door, Jenna. What do you need?"

  "Is this bad timing? You sound preoccupied."

  Marin massaged the tension out of the back of her neck. "No. I just had to run for the phone."

  "Good. Well, listen. There's a party downtown tonight. Feel like getting a little wild?"

  Marin had no desire to be part of the social meat market tonight, or any night for that matter. She might accidently meet someone she liked.

  "Thanks, but I've got a lot of paperwork to finish. My review for the first three months as director is next Friday, and I really want to have all the squares filled."

  Jenna breathed a loud, dramatic sigh.

  "Okay, party pooper. Be that way. If you change your mind before nine o'clock, though, give me a call."

  "Sure."

  “Marin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You can’t live the rest of your life in a vacuum.”

  “Yeah, I can. Have fun.”

  Marin switched off the phone, purposely shoving the conversation from her mind. She stepped onto her balcony, her favorite place to meditate and relax at the end of the day. Lucky enough to have a condo fronting the river, she’d long ago decided the sunsets were the best part of the view. This one proved breatht
aking, with shades of pink and orange and red all watercolored against a flawless, blue canvas - the exact color of the ghost's eyes.

  A chill snaked up her spine, generating another shiver. Had she really seen a ghost? Of course she had! She wasn't in the habit of seeing things that weren't there.

  She sifted her fingers through her hair, loosening the knots caused by the wind, letting the strands fall to her shoulders one by one while she concentrated on the events of the day. She'd just have to wait until tomorrow to investigate this bizarre experience. At least one of the docents who had been "visited" would be on duty then. And she already knew where the pictures were to start her search for his identity.

  She turned her gaze back to the river - the same view so recently studied by...a man with sky blue eyes, who’d lived his life long before she’d been born.

  *******

  Letters, diaries and old photographs littered Marin's desk a full hour before either one of the docents was due to show up.

  It had been hours before she dropped off into an exhausted sleep the night before. And then she’d slept only fitfully, waking with a start every few minutes after dreaming a pair of translucent blue eyes watched her. She'd finally given up any pretense of rest and decided to come in to work early.

  When she arrived at the mansion, the first thing she'd done was check the upper veranda. With great trepidation and a pair of very shaky knees she turned off the security system and crept through the house - as if she could sneak right past a ghost. Her legs had threatened to give out when she forced herself onto the veranda. She'd been both relieved and disappointed when all that greeted her were a pair of harmless wicker rockers left over from the glory days.

  Having left the museum in Little Rock to take this position, her days had been too busy with marketing, advertising and dealing with the board of directors to have time to satisfy her curiosity about the detailed history of the home and its people. But now she planned to dive into the life of the house until she found her mystery phantom.

  Turning her attention to the littered desktop she sorted through the treasures like a miser sifting through his gold. She would check the pictures first, and if she was lucky enough to identify the man then she would check the diaries and letters for any reference to him.

  His clothing made it difficult to tell what time period he might have belonged to. The black trousers and boots, the buttoned, double-breasted black waistcoat and collarless white shirt could have been from several decades. Now, with the shock over, Marin could see him in her mind's eye more clearly than she had yesterday. She could even see the sparkle of the sun on a gold watchfob chain that draped from buttonhole to pocket.

  The slam of the gift shop door startled her so, she nearly jumped out of her chair. She scrambled to catch the now-fluttering picture she'd been holding.

  "Whew! It's going to be another scorcher in beautiful, downtown Memphis. It's got to be ninety degrees with ninety per cent humidity out there already."

  Helen Webber, the docent Marin had been waiting for, fanned herself with a magazine while she dropped her purse into a file cabinet drawer. Her eyes widened when she noticed the abundance of yellowed papers on Marin's desk.

  "Hey! What's up? Are we getting ready to open a new exhibit?"

  Marin threaded her fingers through her hair, then remembered she'd been trying to break that habit and flicked it behind her shoulder.

  "No, I'm doing a little research on my own. Helen, you saw one of the ghosts once, didn't you?"

  "Twice," Helen said after taking in a deep breath, "and it was two too many times." She sat in the chair opposite the desk and made herself comfortable while she warmed to her story. "The first time I saw him I was taking a group through. I had just moved them from the green bedroom to the master suite, and I went back to get a little girl who lagged behind. She was still standing by the ropes when she pointed to the bed and said, 'Is he sick?' Well, I nearly dropped my teeth. There on the bed lay a young man in buff trousers, white shirt and riding boots. And his shirt had a big, red stain across the chest, right over his heart." Helen slapped her splayed fingers across her own heart.

  "I don't mind telling you, I was hard pressed to get that little girl out of there and not scare the living daylights out of her. I turned around before I got completely out the door, and he was gone! I tell you, I almost left here and never came back."

  "When did you see him the second time?"

  "About two years later. I'd say that was about...oh, three years ago now.” Helen shivered. “I'd almost talked myself into believing I hadn't seen anything. Then we had a tornado warning, and we were all scrambling to close up and get home. Without even thinking, I dashed into the green bedroom to turn off the lights, and there he sat in the rocker. The shirt was still bloody, and he was slumped over like he was in pain.

  "Well, I couldn't move! My feet felt like they'd been nailed to the floor. I just stood there and shook until he looked up at me."

  Marin shook her head, afraid to blink. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear any more.

  Helen continued."He raised his head and saw me standing there, scared to death. Then he struggled to his feet and said, 'Forgive me. I do apologize,' in the thickest accent you ever heard, then he just disappeared! Just vanished! And you know what? I haven't been afraid of seeing him again. I don't want to, mind you, but if I do I don't think I'll be scared."

  Marin absorbed this information while she formulated what she should say, but Helen saved her having to confess her experience.

  "You saw one, didn't you?" Helen asked.

  Had she been that obvious?

  "You can tell me. I won't think you're crazy. Shoot, I'd have to think I was crazy, too! Which one did you see?"

  Marin took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled with a sigh. Maybe it was best to talk about it.

  "I saw a new one."

  "You're kidding! Who was it? Was it male or female?"

  Marin's heart skipped at the memory.

  "Oh, definitely male." No doubt about that. "I'd guess he was around thirty-five or so, dark hair, maybe black, and vivid blue eyes. I don't know who he was. That's why I've got all the pictures out."

  "Where'd you see him?"

  "On the upper veranda. He was looking out at the river when I went to close up."

  "Ohhhh! You were here by yourself! I'm surprised you didn't have a stroke!"

  Marin gave a halfhearted laugh. "I didn't have time for a stroke, it happened so fast. But you know, I really didn't feel all that scared until after he was gone. I didn't panic until I got into the house."

  "And you were back here this morning, alone. You're a braver woman than I am."

  "I would say more curious than brave. I'm dying to find out who he is."

  The arrival of the first tourists of the day cut off any more speculation. Helen left Marin to her search while she sold a family four tickets and began the tour of the house.

  Marin didn't need any incentive to get back to the pictures on her desk. She gently lifted each and every one, searched the faces - with a magnifying glass when needed - then filed it back in its acid-free folder. This procedure went on all morning until a dull ache started right behind her eyes . After her stomach started making noisy reminders, she decided to finish up and break for lunch. She'd seen most of the pictures anyway.

  With what she hoped was a premature sense of defeat, she slid the last picture into its file and cleaned off the top of her desk. After Helen and Jean, the other docent, declined her offer to bring them back some lunch, she plodded through the muggy air out to her car.

  A fine sheen of sweat had appeared on her skin when she'd stepped out of the air conditioned gift shop, but the black leather interior of the Mustang nearly melted her.

  "There should be a law against black leather in the South," she grumbled to herself as she settled a towel over her seat, then used another towel to turn the ignition.

  Lunch turned out to be at one of the restaurants on th
e bluff. She opted to sit outside in the shade. The breeze off the water was really very pleasant. She relaxed with a glass of iced tea and enjoyed the view of the Pyramid, Mud Island, and the Hernando de Soto Bridge.

  Lost in thought about what the city would have looked like through the eyes of her ghost, the waiter jarred her back into the twentieth century with a pasta salad and fresh tea.

  The salad, fresh, tangy, and al dente, took her mind off the morning's search for a while. Having that little cloud of questions lifted from her thoughts, even if only for a moment, felt good.

  The waiter ambled over and laid her check on the table, then placed a strawberry daiquiri on top of it.

  "I didn't order that," she said, expecting him to apologize and take it away. Instead he pointed to a man at a corner table.

  "He sent it."

  A thirtysomething executive in the summer business uniform of white button-down, red tie, and black slacks raised his own glass in salute. Marin turned back to the waiter and handed him the drink, along with enough money to cover her bill.

  "Tell him thanks anyway."

  She grimaced on her way back to work when a finger of guilt tapped her on the shoulder. She knew, deep down, that the guy was probably a perfectly nice person looking for a way to meet someone. But that old, familiar wall she'd built years ago would come rising out of nowhere and encircle her like a fortress every time someone approached her in friendliness, be they male or female. Sometimes that icy wall made her harsh. It was something she tried not to think about, and she didn't dwell on it now.

  Spotty patches of sunlight danced on the lawn as she strolled along the front walk of the home, admiring the mansion's sand-colored stone front, which would turn to muted gold in the rays of a dying sun. A breeze lifted her hair and flung it behind her. She raised her face to the wind to savor the feeling.

  Then she stopped dead in her tracks.

  Her heart slammed against the wall of her chest. Her breathing turned into shallow wheezes.