Seven Sisters Collection

by M. L. Bullock

  “I’m thinking about driving up to Fayette. That’s where Karah was from, according to what I’ve found. It’s about four hours away. I was thinking we could ride up and spend the afternoon exploring the library records, stay overnight, come back some time on Sunday. How does that sound?”

  I waved my hand in the air in frustration—mostly at myself. My heart said, “Go! Go! Go!” but my brain was shouting, “Not so fast!” I won’t even mention what my other parts were saying. “I wish I could say yes, but I better not.”

  He laughed nervously. “I guess that doesn’t sound like much of a date.”

  “That sounds like the perfect date to me. It’s just that I’d like to visit with Myron and Alice before they go home, and I need to do a few things around here that I’ve been neglecting.” Like my laundry, I thought. “How about a rain check?”

  “Sure, but I don’t know when I’ll be driving back to Fayette, Alabama, population 2,400 again.”

  “I’ll take my chances. Besides, I have confidence in you. Keep your eyes open for anything you think might be relevant, and let’s talk tonight. I’m dying to know who this sister of Calpurnia’s is.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  The pause in the conversation grew. It felt like Ashland had something to say, but he never said whatever was on his mind. “You still there?”

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  Suddenly I regretted my decision. Maybe I should change my mind, pack a bag and head to Fayette for the weekend. But before I could, Bette tapped courteously on my door, giving me the excuse I needed to end the awkward phone call. How could this be? Ashland and I had finally shared an amazing intimate evening, and now I wanted to run the other way. What the hell was wrong with me?

  “I better go. Bette’s here. Have a safe trip, Ashland. Call me later?”

  “Yes, I’ll call before bed. Talk to you later.”

  “Bye.” I hung up the phone, trotted to the door and opened it with a smile. “Bette! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. How are you?”

  “I’m very well, thank you! Listen, I brought you a crock of hot cheese grits with some bacon sprinkled on top. I would invite you down to the kitchen, but my gentleman friend decided to sleep on the couch last night. I had extra and I wanted to share. How’s my Bienville been behaving?”

  “Thank you for the grits!” I accepted the crock, grateful for the worn potholders she passed me with it. Naturally, they were Campbell’s Soup Kids quilt blocks. I adored Bette’s kitschy kitchen. If I ever had a real home of my own, my kitchen would be every bit as tacky and comforting. “Come on in, Bette.” I padded into the kitchen and set the crock on the small table. “He’s been a perfect gentleman. He comes and goes, but I forgive him because he’s so huggable.”

  “That sounds a lot like my gentleman friend.” I hoped she hadn’t noticed that Ashland had stayed longer than normal last night. That would be almost as embarrassing as hearing about Bette’s beau “sleeping on the couch.”

  “Do you plan to do laundry today? I’d like to use the washer and dryer if you don’t mind. I’m running out of socks and underwear.”

  “Sure, you go right ahead. I’m not doing laundry today. Oh, I heard they arrested Mia. Any word on what’s next? I figured they’d lock her up in some nuthouse somewhere. The poor girl is delusional, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I do. I hope someone helps her, because she’s a danger.”

  “To you, she is. Please be careful, Carrie Jo. I don’t want anything to happen to you. You’re like another one of my kids—or grandkids. I have gotten attached to you being here.”

  “Me too, Bette. Thanks for your hospitality and your friendship.”

  She sniffed and walked to the door. “Have a nice day, dear. And if you see a short, balding man with a noticeable limp leave, please don’t judge me.” She giggled and waved at me as she walked down the stairs.

  I loved Bette and her quirkiness. She was a nice lady. I was happy to see her looking so perky. Not long ago we were fighting for our lives; Mia probably would have killed us both and now it was as if none of it ever happened. What a difference a short time makes!

  I poured a glass of orange juice and sat down to enjoy my grits. These quiet moments made everything feel right again. I didn’t normally “work” at my kitchen table, but I grabbed the laptop and began typing frantically into my dream journal, recording everything I could for posterity’s sake. Of course, I didn’t know if I’d ever have a future generation, but just in case. I shivered uncontrollably, then decided to get some coffee. I drank it black; I needed the energy boost, not extra calories. I removed the lid from the thick creamy grits and enjoyed the aroma: butter…cheese…a touch of garlic powder. That was the secret!

  Gobbling them as quickly as I could without burning my mouth, I filled up my tummy with cheese grits. Sure, no extra calories there. I put the dish in the sink and ran some water in it. Grits were like wallpaper paste once they dried, impossible to remove without power tools. I scrolled through my phone’s contact list and tapped on Alice Reed’s name.

  We talked for a half-hour. Alice was friendly, but I could hear the sadness in her voice. I understood that. Having a loved one with a mental illness was a heartache that one couldn’t explain to anyone who hadn’t experienced it. Apparently the Reeds had Mia settled into Mobile Mental Health for the next four weeks for various evaluations. The couple had returned to Savannah to put their house in order. They planned on moving back to the area to be near their daughter during her recovery. As she was technically in the County’s custody, she could not leave the state until she went to trial for the death of Hollis Matthews. No way were they going to leave her to fight this battle alone. I admired their fortitude and prayed that one day Mia would come to realize that Alice and Myron were more of a treasure than any sack of jewels or old house could ever be. Alice ended the call by asking me to go see Mia when I could.

  “You would be doing us a favor, and I know she wants to see you—you are all she talks about.”

  I gave her an indefinite maybe before wishing them well.

  I took a long, cool shower because the day was shaping up to be another warm one. East Coast living was hot—Mobile had to be the humidity capital of the U.S.—at least of Alabama. I turned on the radio and sang along with Joan Jett. I screeched, “I love rock ’n’ roll! Put another dime in the jukebox, baby…” When my concert ended, I dried off, dressed and began sorting my dirty laundry. Luckily for me, the washer and dryer were downstairs so I didn’t have to carry everything too far. I put the first load in, tossed in some detergent and walked back upstairs with my empty basket.

  My phone was ringing, and out of habit I picked it up without looking at the screen. “Hello?”

  “Hey, CJ?” I spun around again, waving my hand at myself in frustration. What do I do? What do I do? I didn’t want to talk to William. What would I say to him? Besides call him a few choice names. I banged my hand on the counter.

  “Yes, this is CJ.”

  “Don’t hang up on me! I’ve been trying to call you for days. I have to—”

  “Whatever you want to say, I don’t want to hear it, William Bettencourt. You were my friend, and you betrayed me, just like Mia did. I trusted you, and you plotted with her to betray me! Why would you do that, William?” I could hardly believe all the anger that I heard in my own voice. I really felt these emotions—in a hard, bitter and surprising way. Maybe William had meant more to me than I had thought.

  “Don’t hang up! Please, can we meet? I need to talk to you. You don’t know everything. Mia is a dangerous woman, and I didn’t betray you—I didn’t dare leave her alone. By the time I knew she was serious, by the time I knew she was coming after you with a loaded gun, I couldn’t leave her. That would have sent her over the edge!”

  “You should have called me or called the police. How dare you call me now! I cared about you. Did you ever really care about me?” Tears slid down my cheeks. William had been my f
riend for three years. We’d flirted, tried to date and kissed once or twice, but it never worked out. He didn’t answer me right away. Finally he asked, “Are you still a horrible singer?”

  “What?”

  “I said are you still a horrible singer?”

  “Hell, yes I am. But what does that have to do with anything?”

  “It’s still me, CJ. It’s William. I know you. And I have to say this—I’ve been dying to say this. I love you. I made a mistake by not telling you that. I made a mistake not telling you that I suspected Mia had a problem, but I am telling you now. Are you listening?”

  “Yes, I’m listening.”

  “Mia thinks she’s related to the Cottonwoods. Something about some guy named Jeremiah; she’s related to him some kind of way. Anyway, she’s been taking some kind of medication or a drug—I don’t even know if it’s legal. It’s supposed to help her…what’s it called again…‘dream catch,’ kind of like you. She’s been sleeping with all kinds of things around her bed, but mostly she would just wake up screaming and cursing. She could do what you do, and it drove her crazy. She said she saw pictures and blurs of color but nothing clear and nothing that made sense. All she could do was feel things, feel the anger of Jeremiah.”

  “Are you joking? Is this part of some new scam, William?”

  “Shut up and listen.” He sounded as serious as I had ever heard him. “I’m not scamming you, CJ. She’s going to try and come at you again. She hasn’t given up. This is a ruse for her to get close to you. Don’t go see her, no matter how much her parents beg you.”

  “Next you’ll be telling me that Alice and Myron are in on it.” He didn’t answer me, but I wouldn’t let it go. “Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I think they could be. Just let the law handle Mia. This place they have her in—it’s what it is known as a low-security facility. That means without much effort, Mia could be out of it in no time. If she can get to you, she will.”

  “But why? To what end? The treasure has been found, William. And Seven Sisters belongs to Ashland, not me. Why would she come after me?”

  In a steely, serious voice, he said, “I think she wants to kill you, Carrie Jo. She has this idea in her sick head that if she kills you and does some kind of ritual, something she learned in Egypt, she can have your powers after you die. I know it sounds crazy. I didn’t want to believe it either, but there it is. I am telling you the truth. Please listen to me. Keep your friends close to you. Keep the doors locked. Don’t let your guard down for a minute.”

  I sat on the floor, closing my front door with shaking hands. I could hardly believe what William had told me. What did it all mean?

  “Carrie Jo, please. Can I come over? I’ll keep watch with you. I want to keep you safe.”

  “No, William. I don’t want to see you. Thanks for calling me and telling me what you know. I thank you for that, but there is no way I am going to trust you again. At least, not right now.”

  “I want you to trust me, CJ. I do love you, as I always have. You know I have. What I said to you that night on Dauphin Street, it was a lie. A big lie! I did come down here to be close to you. I came down here because I wanted to have more than a kiss with you. I love everything about you. Your smile, your horrible singing, your beautiful face. It’s you I want. Why else would I still be talking to Mia? I had to watch over you the best way I knew how. Please say you’ll give me a second chance.”

  “I’m seeing Ashland, William. I’m not the kind of girl to date two guys at once. I do thank you for calling me.”

  He sighed, sounding defeated. “Well, I wanted you to know. My best to your boyfriend, and please tell him what I told you. Stay safe, Carrie Jo.”

  “Thanks, William.” I hung up the phone. I lay on the area rug and stared up at the pristine white, glossy ceiling. What just happened? How did that monkey wrench get tossed into my plans again?

  I thought for a few minutes, then I got to my feet. When William and I were dating, I ended it because I realized I wasn’t in love with him. No matter what he said, he couldn’t talk me into being in love. It just wasn’t there. Still, I felt grateful for the phone call. I tapped on the phone screen again, ready to call Ashland to fill him in.

  “No, I better not,” I said to no one in particular. If I called him, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to do what I planned to do later.

  Tonight would be the night. It was now or never. I would finally sleep at Seven Sisters. I hoped I knew what I was doing, or this might be the last nap I ever took.

  I kept my eyes peeled for petite lurkers wielding knives or guns in the hedges as I went back and forth to the laundry room for the next few hours. The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous it all seemed. But I did my research. Mobile Mental Health was indeed a low-security facility, so that much was true. As for William being in love with me, that wasn’t something I could help.

  About 11 a.m., Detra Ann’s email pinged my inbox. I clicked on the attachment and studied the letter that appeared on my screen. I was surprised to recognize the handwriting. David Garrett’s. I’d “read” many of his letters to Calpurnia while I dreamed about her, so I’d seen that script before.

  Dearest One,

  It pains me to hear such disturbing reports about your behavior while I’m away. My sincere hopes had been that you would stop fighting me at every turn and allow the physicians to provide you with the ministrations you need to overcome this serious malady. Perhaps reading this note will put you in remembrance of the promise I made to you. “Never will I leave you, nor forsake you, not for a thousand treasures or for Aphrodite herself.” You are my own Dear Love; have I not proven such?

  Stop believing the things your eyes see, because we know they cannot be trusted. Do not listen to the things your ears hear, because I shall always love you, no matter what others may say. I desire only your happiness and peace.

  I will return to you as soon as I land in Mobile. I have something to show you, something that may pique your interest. Wear the blue gown for me, Dearest One. How I love to see you in your finery once again! No more black.

  With much admiration and love,

  David

  The back of the letter listed her address as Dauphin Street Hospital, her name, Iona Garrett. That was it. I sat back in amazement. No matter what I thought of the captain, I had to at least give him credit for coming up with the sister cover story and trying to get Isla some help. Not that it ever worked. I printed a copy of the letter and forwarded it to Ashland, who immediately wrote me back, “Wow! That’s amazing. Must be Isla, right?”

  I sent back a smiley face and agreed with him. I folded my clothing and kept my doors locked. Despite what William told me, I still intended to do what I had planned.

  I would sleep at the house and no one, alive or dead, would stop me.

  Chapter 11

  Sitting in the driveway of Seven Sisters, I talked to Ashland. I prayed that an ambulance wouldn’t go whizzing by and bust me. As far as he knew, I was safe at home in my apartment. I still hadn’t told him about William, and the guilt was beginning to weigh on me. “Yes, I am turning in early.”

  “Hoping for some good dreams?”

  “You know me. That’s what I do, right?”

  “No, that’s not what you do. You are a researcher—a historian. This dreaming business, this is just extra. One day, when these mysteries are solved, you’ll be able to turn them off, right?”

  I sighed. “I hope so. I have never dreamed so much in my life, and I have never been so emotionally invested with a group of people who haven’t been alive in well over a hundred years. I’m hoping this goes away. After this, I look forward to sleeping in a brand new house far away from downtown Mobile.”

  “I see. I’d like to get to know that girl, the one that doesn’t dream and sleeps in a new home away from Seven Sisters. And I’ve been thinking…”

  “Long trip? Nothing better to do?”

  “He
y, cut that out. I think all the time, not just on long, boring trips.”

  I chuckled, grateful that he had a sense of humor about the whole thing. “So what have you been thinking?”

  “I’ve been thinking that we need to set a deadline. If we don’t know something by Halloween, we let it go. We can’t let this absorb our lives. I don’t want it to do to you what it did to my mother. Me either. We have to live a real life with birthday parties and spaghetti dinners. We have to be real people, Carrie Jo. I need to be real.”

  “I am so glad you said that.” Happy tears filled my eyes. This was exactly what I had been feeling when we spoke last, but I couldn’t articulate it like he had. “I love you, Ashland Stuart. Not your old name or your money. Not your football trophies or your amateur detective skills. I love you.”

  “And I needed to hear that. Thank you, Carrie Jo, for not laughing at me and for taking on my family mystery like it was your own. I don’t know any other woman that would have done as much as you have. I love you too.”

  I smiled into the phone. I took a deep breath and stared up at the house in front of me. Seven Sisters practically glowed in the moonlight. Purple shadows flitted across the colonnade; they looked like fleeting dark spirits, but it was only the wind moving the branches off nearby trees. “I better go now, Ashland. I’m getting ready for bed. See you in the morning?”

  “You know it. I know I said this once, but I love you, Carrie Jo Jardine.”

  “I love you too. Goodnight.” I hung up, trying not to feel guilty about lying to the man I just declared my love for. This wasn’t what I wanted. I grabbed my purse and my bag and locked my car. I parked it out of the way and out of the obvious view from the driveway, but I didn’t park around back. That would be admitting guilt for sure.