Hayden snickered. “You’re good at putting a positive spin on things, Scott. In fact, you get an A+ at spinning.”
Scott guffawed. “I hope Ethan appreciates your sense of humor. You should ask him about the summer he was ten and visiting his grandmother, right here in Pelican Pointe. Ask him about the time he went down to fish off the pier. A bunch of older boys, I counted five at the time, was already there, fishing poles in the water. They told him he couldn’t fish next to them, to go find another spot.”
“Why?”
“Kids don’t need a reason to be mean. But in this case it was because he was Native American. Now me, I thought being Native was about the coolest thing that summer. In fact I was thirteen and tagging along after his older brother, Brent. Brent got all the girls back then, even here in Pelican Pointe it was no exception. The two of us, Brent and I, were hanging out at the beach that day, surfing, trying to impress a group of girls.” He still remembered what the waves felt like as the water sluiced over his body that day, a body he no longer had.
“I bet you were,” Hayden smirked. She saw him shoot her a grin.
“At any rate, we saw these boys, oldest was probably fourteen and a big son of a gun, giving Ethan a hard time. Turns out, it wasn’t the first time this group of boys had picked on him that summer. Anyway, we went over to help him out.”
“But not because you were still trying to impress the girls.”
“No, of course not, we were playing the swaggering heroes out of the goodness of our hearts. So what if Sally Kennerman and Brittany Baker just happened to stroll by, see us playing hero defending a ten-year-old from a bunch of bullies. If it got us noticed that would be okay too.
“The thing is I thought when they caught sight of badass Brent, who towered over most of these guys, I thought when they saw him, they’d back down, you know. But I guess they weren’t that smart because they decided the best offense was to attack as a group. As soon as the punches started flying, we heard this gun go off behind us.” Scott roared with laughter. “I look back and see tiny Autumn Lassiter, all four foot eleven inches of her, standing there holding this big-ass shotgun, pointing it up in the air, yelling for those boys to leave her grandsons alone.”
“That shotgun must have packed a punch.”
“Oh, it did. But I guess she’d known these boys were picking on Ethan for awhile and she decided to follow them that day, put a stop to it right then and there.”
It was these kinds of talks with Scott that made her enjoy seeking him out. Besides, he was the only “person” who knew the real Emile Reed, the only one who knew about Dochenko and the mess she’d left behind. She found solace in that.
At that moment though, Hayden noticed Jordan standing not two feet from her, eyes as big as saucers, boring holes through her. How long had she been standing there? Hayden had been so engrossed in Scott’s story she hadn’t heard Jordan walk up along the pathway.
“Hayden, what are you doing out here talking to yourself?”
Okay, she’d been standing there long enough to see that. “Uh…” Why on earth couldn’t Jordan see Scott sprawled on the lawn next to the bedding plants? “I didn’t see you there, Jordan. I decided to replace your bachelor’s buttons with these purple daisies. The color’s almost the same. I brought marigolds, too. Did you know marigolds keep aphids away? That’s why they keep them at the farm. They plant them among the vegetables.” She couldn’t seem to stop the drivel from tumbling out of her mouth.
“He’s here, isn’t he? Scott’s right here. That’s who you were talking to?” Jordan accused as she looked around, wringing her hands, inspecting every blade of grass, staring long and hard at the flowering plants, as if that would make him suddenly appear.
“Uh…he’s sitting on the grass, Jordan. I was just, uh…uh…he was keeping me company while I plant these flowers, telling me this story about the time Ethan was a boy…and...” But Jordan wasn’t listening. Hayden saw tears stream down her face then watched as she turned on her heels and stormed back into the house.
“Looks like, I’m in trouble,” Scott concluded.
“Why doesn’t she see you, Scott?”
“I have no idea. I thought it would pass. I thought—”
Hayden sighed. “Well, you aren’t going anywhere.”
Scott shook his head. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”
Saturday night came and went but Hayden and Ethan never made it to Santa Cruz. Right after Hayden’s shift ended at the Diner, just as Ethan had predicted, they’d tumbled between the sheets and hadn’t come up for air until hunger got the best of them.
Around midnight they’d ended up eating cold leftover lasagna in bed.
Ethan lay stretched across the rumpled covers, naked. “I’ll make it up to you. Tomorrow night I’ll take you over to The Pointe. I promise.”
Sitting cross-legged, with a plate across her lap, she leaned back on the headboard and patted her stomach. “Hmm, I’m not missing a thing, here, Ethan.” She dished up another fork of pasta and almost purred, “Your mother makes excellent lasagna. I’m not sure we’re doing it justice by not heating it up. Even cold though, it’s delicious. Do you think she’d give me the recipe?”
A touchy subject, Ethan decided since his mom still held out hope his relationship with Hayden was a passing phase. Good thing she hadn’t gotten wind the woman had been interested in renting Autumn’s house.
“By the way, tell me about the time your grandmother, Autumn Lassiter, took out her shotgun and ran off a group of boys who’d been tormenting you all summer long.”
Ethan choked on his pasta. “You’ve been talking to Brent.”
“Nope. Scott told me. He was there. He told me the whole story about how they’d picked on you because you were Native.”
Ethan’s mouth dropped open. He remembered that summer day. His brother and Scott had been fierce in defending him. In fact, after that day, those boys had left him alone. Not only that, but the same day, he’d also seen another side to his diminutive grandmother. She’d shown a feisty streak he’d never known existed.
“Was she really only four-feet-eleven?”
Ethan stared at her in disbelief. “Okay. Scott’s story was fairly descriptive. These talks with him are real then.”
“They are. I didn’t know you doubted it.” She took another bite of the cheesy concoction. “I’m thinking about paying Wade Hawkins a visit, having a conversation with him about ghosts. Want to come with me?”
After cleaning his own plate, he started forking over lasagna from hers. “Sure. But what do you think you’ll find out from Wade? I told you everything he told me.”
“A different perspective maybe. I’ve read all the books you gave me. Maybe talking to Wade will give me some clue as to why Jordan can’t see her own dead husband’s ghost.” When she said it out loud, it sounded fairly ridiculous. “I don’t know. Something. He’s the local expert. And you aren’t the only one who has mentioned Wade’s strange pursuit of the paranormal.”
“Wade hasn’t exactly been secretive about it. A lot of people think he has a screw loose.” Ethan went over once again what Wade had told him about taking his electronic sensors out to the cove.
Hayden fidgeted with the fork she held. “Jordan caught me talking to him. Of course, it looked like I was talking to myself. But she knew he was there. She just couldn’t see him.”
“You do realize that talking like that the whole town will start thinking you have a screw loose as well.”
“You don’t let on that you believe in ghosts and spirits and stuff like that, do you, Ethan? You keep that to yourself, don’t you?”
“Being Native has always been enough of a challenge without me babbling on about that, too. I leave the subject of shamans and ghosts to my father.”
“That bothers him, doesn’t it? The fact that you haven’t fully embraced that part of your heritage, so to speak, upsets him?”
He arched a brow, wondering how she read thos
e kinds of things in him that no one else seemed to pick up. “He’s always wanted me to be more out there when it came to reading things, talking about what I do with the world, or so it seemed.”
“And you like being more private about it.”
“A lot more private. Are you sure you don’t have a little psychic ability in your background, Hayden-no-middle-initial-Ryan?”
She giggled like a ten-year-old. “Not that I’m aware of, Deputy Dawg.”
Pulling her back down on the bed beside him, he ran his fingers through the ends of her hair. “What with all this fake black, maybe you have Native blood running through your veins and just don’t know it?” he teased as he found the curve of a breast, nuzzled a pebbled point, and started grazing down the length of her body.
“Mmm, maybe.”
For the time being their interest in ghosts faded. And once again, it was hours before they fell asleep.
Sunday afternoon they stopped by Wade’s house, a rambling, western-style ranch, located about two miles north of town. The place reminded Hayden of a rustic ski lodge complete with a massive stone fireplace, log-paneled walls, and vaulted timber-plank ceilings.
The man with the wild head of white hair, ushered them into his study where he’d already set out a tray filled with a decanter of coffee and homemade chocolate chip cookies.
Hayden and Ethan got settled in winged chairs while the long-time council member and retired history professor went through his files and dug out his notes on the readings he’d taken out at Promise Cove.
Wade adjusted his glasses and held up his electromagnetic field meter. “This is the little gizmo that gave me such a strong indication out at Jordan’s. The needle blew off the chart, especially in two locations, the courtyard and the kitchen.”
“I don’t dispute your findings, Mr. Hawkins, I know Scott’s there on the grounds. What I’m really trying to get at is why he appears to Nick and to me, even to Ethan here, but not to his own wife, uh…former wife. Jordan spends the majority of her time in that kitchen where you say your meter showed the strongest indication, and yet, Jordan doesn’t see him. And I totally understand why he’s still around there because the cove is his childhood home, he grew up there. His happiest memories are right there in that house, on the grounds.”
“It sounds like you’ve gotten to know him quite well over a short period of time.”
She glanced at Ethan, waited for an indication to go on. At the nod of his head, she began telling Wade about all her “talks” with Scott.
Wade sat there contemplating the situation, taking it all in, before surprising them both. “Had a poker game out here last summer, the town leaders try to make a point to get together and play about once a month. Doc Prescott, Murphy, Bran Sullivan, Wally Pierce, Carl Knudsen, even Joe Ferguson, they were all here. The subject of Scott came up. It was right after Nick and Jordan tied the knot. I won’t say which ones, but half of those guys I just mentioned said they’d seen Scott―in his ghostly form, seen him strolling along the dock near the pier, walking behind McCready’s, even hanging out in the parking lot of Murphy’s Market, more than once I might add.”
Ethan pointed out, “There’s an old Native legend that speaks about what happens after the leader of a village passes on. The shamans believe his spirit is restless because it needs to watch over, to become that village’s protector, keeping it safe from outsiders, making sure his family and the people he cared about in life are taken care of after he’s no longer with them. In other words, his spirit guards his family and friends. The legend calls it, the guardian spirit.”
Wade nodded. “I’d say that fits what Scott Phillips does to a tee. We aren’t talking about getting rid of him, are we?” He shot a troubled look at Hayden.
“Absolutely not. Scott deserves to be here as much as any of the rest of us. He isn’t scary, or a menace. He’s more—”
“Benevolent,” Ethan finished for her.
“Exactly. But you’ve just proved my point. If all those other people see him, why doesn’t Jordan?”
“I’d say she doesn’t want to,” Wade answered.
Ethan agreed, “My father would say Jordan is not yet at a place in her life where she’s open to seeing Scott. Once she opens her heart and mind, my guess is she’ll see plenty of the guy.”
Chapter 16 Book 2
Margie Rosterman had been less than enthusiastic about Hayden taking a Saturday night off. But when Hayden explained her reasons, her boss couldn’t very well turn down her request. It seems Hayden had pegged Margie after all; the acerbic woman had a romantic side.
After Hayden got the go ahead from Margie, she persuaded Abby Pointer to cover her shift, and then made everyone involved swear an oath of silence they wouldn’t let the cat out of the bag.
With enough secrecy to make the CIA proud, when Saturday morning rolled around, Hayden helped Nick stage the scene. While Jordan and Nick ate breakfast, Hayden stealthily snuck in the front door and into the master bedroom to pack Jordan a bag with enough stuff in it to last a good three-day weekend. When she was done, she tip-toed out the way she’d come to their Ford Explorer and placed the bag in the back under a blanket.
Even as Hayden played out her clandestine role, Nick got into character. It was his job to get his wife in the car without her suspecting anything was up. As he cleaned up the breakfast dishes, he announced, “I was thinking maybe we should go over to the farm and spend a couple of hours with Will and Fran. If you’re feeling up to it, that is. You’d just be taking notes and making sure we go over everything before they take off for Tulare. Hayden offered to look after Hutton for us. Then if there’s time, while we’re out, we could grab some lunch at the Diner.” It was a tribute to the whole scam that he kept a straight face.
“I’m feeling pretty good this morning. Now would be a good time to go over there and sort out what we should expect once they’re gone. It’s hard to believe that place is really ours.”
“I know what you mean. Inheriting this farm has meant a lot more work for both of us.”
Ten minutes later, they walked out to the SUV as if they were simply going next door. But at the end of the driveway, instead of making a right to go south, Nick made a left turn and swung north.
When Jordan realized they were headed in the wrong direction, she looked over at Nick and asked, “What’s going on?” The minute she saw his lips curve, she knew something was up.
“How about a nice long weekend at the Hotel Vitale?”
“In San Francisco? You’re kidding? What about Hutton? Am I dreaming?”
“Not yet. But you will be with three days of room service and spa treatments at your fingertips. Hayden is babysitting until Tuesday morning.”
“Three days! Really? Oh Nick, you always know what I need, when I need it. I feel like I’ve been run ragged lately, stressed out. And I haven’t even been involved that much with the farm. I’ve left you and Hayden with that burden. I’m sorry for that.”
“Hey, don’t be. You’ve had the B & B to take care of while I’ve been swamped next door. But this weekend I’ll have you all to myself. We check in at three this afternoon, check out Tuesday morning. With a baby coming who knows when we’ll get to do this again.”
“I’m so excited. I should call Hayden and thank her for keeping Hutton for us.” She reached over and picked up their cell phone, but there was no service. “I’ll call her as soon as we get to the highway. I can’t believe you did this for me, Nick. I’m so ready for a getaway. How did you know?”
He grinned, picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, placed a kiss on the palm.
“I pick up on things because I love you. And we’ve both been under a lot of stress lately. Happy birthday, Jordan.”
With Nick and Jordan out of the house, the huge old B & B was silent as a church except for the energetic two-year-old and the almost full-grown puppy they called Quake. To Hayden, the dog and little girl seemed to have bonded like glue sticks to paper.
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Just as Nick promised there were no guests scheduled to arrive. The place had emptied out two days earlier when the feds had finally packed up and headed back to their Bay Area office.
But Hayden had already decided that if someone did show up unexpectedly, like she had done weeks earlier, she would gladly offer them a room and take their money. She might not be able to offer them Jordan’s excellent cuisine, but she could do more than boil water these days.
And thinking about meals had her coaxing Hutton into the kitchen so she could keep an eye on her while she dragged out Jordan’s Crock-Pot.
“I get the food started and we’ll head out to the Homecoming parade. How’s that sound, Hutton?”
“Parade,” the little girl repeated as she clapped her hands together.
“That’s right, Hutton. We’ll see the bands march and play music.”
Hayden ran cold water into the slow cooker, dug out chicken breasts from the fridge. Peeling off the plastic wrap, she dumped the meat into the pot, turned the dial up to high.
She got down a bowl from the cabinet, checked her list of ingredients from the recipe Jordan had left. She drizzled what looked like two tablespoons of honey into the bowl, added soy sauce and ketchup. She threw in fresh ginger, chopped up garlic, and then poured all of it over the chicken.
Six hours from now she could only hope she’d have an edible meal that was supposed to taste very much like ginger chicken cooked in a Crock-Pot.
Satisfied she had supper well in hand she picked up Hutton, and headed off to get a two-year-old toddler dressed to watch a parade.
Hutton had insisted on wearing a hat to accessorize her purple outfit. Light lavender shirt, over a darker pair of purple overalls. It seemed the girl was crazy about purple and―headwear. She’d picked the cutest little knitted purple cap out herself because it had long curls at the very top of the crown that spiraled downward. Every time she moved her head from side to side, she could feel them bounce back and forth.
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