Haunting Refrain

by Mary Marvella

  She’d go out with Peter and tell him what she had heard about the “treasure” and let him know there was none. Then she’d tell him she didn’t love him but she wanted to be friends. She might mention she loved William, but she wasn’t sure.

  She’d definitely avoid William. One day without him wouldn’t kill her.

  She would not tell Peter she had ghosts in her house or that she had lived before and had known his forefather.

  Good, fine, she felt so much better. Now she could go home and take charge of her life, ghosts, and past-life memories, and stupid soul-mate, and all.

  Jason Houster met her as she left the barn and Baby. He had changed into clean clothes but he still wore his dusty hat and his worn boots.

  He tipped his hat and smiled down at her. “Ma’am, do you have your mobile phone turned on?

  “Nope.” She pulled it from her pack and waved it.

  “You got messages from William. He called up to the house and asked after you. Said he'd been looking all over for you. He didn’t seem like his calm self, if you know what I mean.”

  “Did you tell him you’d seen me?”

  “I did, but I didn’t mention that you were still here. Figured you’d have checked your voicemail and called him back, if you’d wanted to.“

  “Good thinking, Cowboy. Thanks.” He looked as though he wanted to know what was going on between her and the professor. Sarah shrugged, then strode out to her car and drove back toward town and home.

  ##

  Sarah sat on a dusty trunk in her attic. Today the ghost-girls weren’t doing the tea-time thing.

  “I got my journals back this morning.”

  “We saw you from a window.” Eloise said. Her red nails matched her sweater and slacks outfit. ”Why were you sneaking around?”

  “I didn’t want to disturb old what’s-his-name. Anyway, there were two books that didn’t match the others. I wondered why, so I looked inside. They belonged to Walter.”

  “You and William had quite a spat last night,” Mattie commented as though she hadn’t heard about the journals.

  Eloise shook her head “Tsk, tsk, he was so distraught sitting on your porch steps all night.“

  “He was not! I mean, out there all night.”

  “How would you know?” Eloise asked.

  Sarah glared at her.

  Mattie shook her head at both of them. “You never settle an argument by walking away, certainly not by locking out someone you love.”

  Sarah wouldn’t discuss it anymore. “I want to tell Peter about what I’ve found. I also want to explain we can be friends, but nothing more.”

  “You can’t do that!” Mattie paced, leaving a trail in the dust as her skirts dragged a path on the hardwood floor.

  Sarah looked around the vast open area, ignoring Mattie. “I think I’ll have daddy hire a crew to finish off this attic and turn it into an office for me. It’s large and airy and –“

  Eloise glared at Sarah. “We were talking about your stupid plans to go off with the enemy.”

  “Well, I did tell you about precious William’s betrayal.”

  “Don’t avoid the issue, Sarah.” Mattie stopped in front of her. “William’s family hasn’t hated yours for more than a century, like some people we know.”

  “Ladies, I’ll be in a public place with Peter. Why should I just dump a man who has been nice to me? That would help the situation, wouldn’t it? I want the feud to end and I can make that happen. Walter’s journals aren’t as filled with emotions and stories as Sarita’s, but they certainly show our family worked hard for everything they had. Hell, the man who stole your heart helped everyone survive. He was the real treasure.”

  “He didn’t steal me from Miller Jackson. I never loved or promised Miller anything but friendship.”

  Eloise patted Mattie’s shoulder. “But he loved you in his own way and thought you loved him. Emotions like love and hate cloud a person’s judgment.”

  “Have you forgotten your own Jackson trouble?”

  “No, but Sarah is right about ending this thing. Why should another generation continue the animosity? Peter will be more likely to get over it if Sarah helps him understand. I think she should tell him, but I think she should do it here where we can protect her.”

  “We can protect her?” Mattie asked.

  ”Protect me?” Sarah said over Mattie’s reaction.

  “Her family is around and she can even bring him up here. Wouldn’t it be fun to let him see what we can do with an attic?”

  “You wouldn’t,” Sarah said.

  Mattie chewed on her bottom lip. “William is right next door if she needs him.”

  Sarah enunciated slowly. “We’re not talking about William. I’m not speaking to him.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Peter listened to the busy signal. He’d called Sarah’s number all day, only to get a busy signal. How could anyone spend so much time talking? Sarah hadn’t called to confirm their date. He’d been so busy all week he hadn’t had time to plan the romantic trip to Atlanta for their Friday night date. Good thing, since she might’ve forgotten this date as she had the last one.

  At least he didn’t have to baby sit tonight. Roxy and her “sugar daddy” would soon be off for the weekend in Miami. He’d come home to find her throwing a fit.

  A door slammed. Roxy’s voice carried down the hall from her room. “I haven’t a thing to wear!” she wailed.

  What was her problem? She had a closet full of clothes. He’d seen them when he’d rushed to her room to kill a mouse the first night he’d slept here.

  The door slammed again. Maybe she was PMS-ing. Unless she calmed down soon she’d be late when the limo came for her. As much as Peter wanted to make plans for his own date he knew he’d better try to make his housemate feel better.

  He didn’t think she had a choice about going away. Maybe he’d bring Sarah back here. The house should impress her, when he told her he was house-sitting.

  That would only work with Roxy gone. Something heavy hit the wall in her room.

  Still wearing his robe from his shower he changed into khakis and a shirt so he could go to her.

  He knocked on her door. “Roxy?” he called. She didn’t answer. He called again. “Roxy, I know you’re in there.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Are you okay in there?”

  “What do you care?” She sounded close to the door.

  “Maybe I can help.”

  “It’s not locked.” Her voice sounded small and childlike.

  “But is it safe?” He opened the door a crack

  “Yeah.”

  He eased into her room, leaving the door ajar. “What’s the matter, Rox?”

  “I don’t have anything to wear in Miami,” she whined.

  The towel she wore would have tempted a saint to sin.

  “You got a closet full of clothes.” He pointed to the walk-in closet, then to the dressers and chests-of-drawers along the walls. “You got enough clothes on your bed for three women.”

  She sat on the only clear spot on the canopied, king-sized bed and began to cry. He hated to see a woman cry. He moved a pile of shorts and sat beside her, trying to ignore the smooth skin of her shoulders and her long, slender legs. The mounds of her breasts plumped above the towel. For an insane moment he wanted to separate her thighs and go wild.

  Instead, he took her hand. “Don’t cry, Rox, tell old Peter what’s wrong.”

  “I’m fat!” she wailed.

  No way would Peter have called this goddess fat. He should know, he’d seen her nearly naked.

  “Come, on now, you’re not fat.”

  “But I am.”

  “You can’t believe that.”

  “All my clothes are too tight. I can’t button any of these shorts and things. I could barely zip my skirt this morning. My bikinis look awful. My belly pouches out.”

  “Are you,” he paused, “you know, uh ..“

  “Do I l
ook pregnant?” she wailed louder.

  “No, you just said you’d gained weight and I just thought, well?” He’d never been so tongue-tied.

  She jerked her hand from his. “Well, I’m not pregnant.”

  “Is it - uh - that time of the month? Maybe a little water retention?” She glared down at him. If she didn’t belong to the man who could have him erased, and if he hadn’t planned to marry Sarah, he’d be sorely tempted to pull her to him and bury his face in the fragrant valley of her breasts.

  “It’s all your fault.”

  “Oh, no. Not mine.”

  “It is, I kept planning meals to impress you since you enjoyed them so much.”

  “And that makes it my fault?”

  “Yes, I love good food. I don’t usually cook much ‘cause I can’t eat much. I ate everything you did and look what happened.”

  Peter stood. “You’re incredibly beautiful. You’re not fat. You’re perfect.”

  A door downstairs slammed. “Hey, Roxy, you ready? Get a move on.” Mr. Avery bellowed.

  Such couth. “Sundresses,” Peter advised Roxy, then hurried from her room. Being caught in her room when she wore only a towel could get him a broken body part, at the very least. It wouldn’t help her either.

  By the time Avery plodded to the top of the stairs, Peter had finished dressing. He met the older man whose cigar smoke offended his sensibilities. But the man who paid for the house could do as he pleased.

  Roxy called from her room. “Almost ready.” Her voice sounded breathy, as it always did when the boss was around.

  She must’ve recovered from her snit. He headed downstairs to avoid seeing the lovers together in her bedroom. He headed to the kitchen for a glass of chilled water. He smiled at thoughts of the sexy woman he’d first seen in Mr. Avery’s office, how she’d looked sitting at the table so fresh faced, stirring sauces on the of the stoves, and eating with such enthusiasm she had gained weight in a less than a week.

  A horrible thought hit him. What if the horny old bastard hadn’t been careful, what if she’d been with someone else, what if she hadn’t been prepared, what if she was pregnant?

  He should probably offer their guest a drink but he didn’t want to. He heard Avery’s heavy steps across the entry floor, a door opened.

  “Sir?” A voice he didn’t recognize.

  “Get the lady’s bags.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He heard heavy footfalls on the stairs. After a pause he heard them again, followed by Roxy’s heels. He imagined the old lecher putting his hands on his secretary’s back to lead her out. He imagined those fat hands exploring her body in the limo. The idea bothered him, but she had made her choices.

  And he had to go meet Sarah. He removed a bouquet from the walk-in refrigerator, then left the kitchen to gather his keys and head to his car. Hope Sarah didn't forget this date.

  ##

  Sarah paced her bedroom and stared at her open closet. What does a woman wear for a date she hasn’t been able to confirm with a man she plans to tell she doesn’t love him? He was bound to be upset with her when she told him about her relationship with William. She should have told him.

  What does a woman wear for a meeting with a man whose help she needs to end a family feud? She and Peter must stay friends so they could work together.

  Her summer version of the little black dress lay discarded on her bed. Too dressy. Her white cotton slacks and three different tops topped the too casual pile. She had never seen Peter really casual.

  He’d given the impression this date would be fancy but how fancy? She finally settled for summery, gathered skirt and sleeveless blouse of turquoise silk. Two-inch silver heels matched the silver loops in her ears and the silver link belt.

  Tendrils escaped her loose French twist. She had added blush, toned it down, and added it again. Mattie appeared behind her, gazing back from the mirror.

  Eloise followed, standing by her right side. “You need more mascara.”

  “Really?” Sarah asked.

  “He’ll eat his heart out when you give him the boot.”

  Mattie frowned. “You’re going through a lot of trouble for a man you don’t love.”

  “Girls, you’re not helping.”

  Sarah rose from her vanity. She cut off the lights around the mirror, then she scooped up her purse and silk shawl, turquoise, shot with silver threads.

  When the doorbell rang she paused at the top of the stairs. She took a deep breath, then let it out. With each step her resolve faltered.

  She would’ve felt better if her ghosts weren’t following her. At least they couldn’t follow her from the house.

  Peter turned from his conversation with Sarah’s parents to look up when he heard the sound of soft footsteps. Sarah was a vision of loveliness. He’d never seen her more beautiful. The lines of her outfit were simple and classic. Her upswept hair had captured gold from the sun and now exposed her slender neck in a manner both sophisticated and simple.

  She was beautiful but she did not make his heart race. Roxie did make his heart race. Roxie belonged to a man who could ruin him but Sarah could make his dreams come true.

  “Sarah, you look wonderful.” Peter moved to her side and took her hand. He kissed the tips of her fingers. He’d take her to Roxie’s house and show her his culinary skills. There would be plenty of wine and the mood should be right for romance.

  He reached to the table behind him and presented the bouquet he’d brought.

  “They’re beautiful, I’ll put them in water.” Turning, she moved to the kitchen. He followed and watched her stretch toward a vase on a high shelf. He reached around her to help. He wasn’t even tempted to touch her as he had once been.

  “Thanks, Peter,” she said. She seemed so different from the Sarah he’d met only months ago.

  “Don’t you like the flowers?” he asked. Should he have bought something more showy? She seemed subdued.

  “Of course I do, they’re gorgeous.”

  “You’re awfully quiet,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure. I’m just a little tired. I went horseback riding this morning.” She cut the ends from the stems and arranged the flowers in water. “I need to get in shape. I guess I’ve been sitting too much.”

  “Nothin’ wrong with your shape, Sarah.” He grinned. “Don’t you change a thing.” Something about her didn’t feel right. “Is everything alright with you?”

  “Sure.”

  Peter shrugged, then opened Sarah’s refrigerator and brought out a Sprite. “We’ll add this to the water.”

  Sarah let him help, but the easy laughs didn’t come. Something was bothering her and he meant to find out what. Tonight they’d set everything straight.

  Sarah and Peter finished arranging the flowers in awkward silence.

  Sarah felt Mattie and Eloise hovering. Time to escape before they did something embarrassing. She felt their concern but she had to do this on her own. Forcing a smile she took Peter’s hand and led him to the living room. Peter seemed different. He looked neat and smooth, as always, but his old grin didn’t light his whole face as it usually did. Had she hurt his feelings? She hadn’t meant to. They joined her parents to say goodbye.

  Peter escorted Sarah to his car. He always did things like that. He escorted a woman, instead of just walking with her. He opened her door and closed it once she was safely buckled in.

  Sarah watched him slide into his own seat and fasten his seatbelt. Each move he made seemed measured, careful. Even the way he started the car and pulled into the street.

  “What’s bothering you, Peter?” She touched his shoulder.

  “Have you been avoiding me, Sarah?” He glanced her way.

  “Of course not, I tried to reach you but I couldn’t get through with the number you gave me.” So that was what was bothering him. He thought she hadn’t returned his calls.

  Peter had turned into an older neighborhood with fenced-in mansions. The houses were hotel size
d and barely visible from the street. Some houses sported scaffolding, testimony to a resurgence of renovations. Every five years renovation fever would take over and several houses would take on new faces. Some would take more work than their owners could afford and never quite get the finished face-lift.

  “Sorry, I thought I called with my new number. I’m house sitting for a friend.” He paused. “I'm cooking you a meal in the gourmet kitchen, tonight. You’ll love it.”

  “Sounds good. I really wanted to talk to you about our families’ history.”

  “History? That sounds interesting, or maybe ominous? I wasn’t a good history student.”

  “I think you’ll find it fascinating.”

  “Great.” He turned into a circular drive, lined with manicured gardenia bushes and irises of varied hues of blue and purple. Spotlights showed the architectural elegance.

  “Wow, Peter, your friend must be loaded.” Wisteria warred with the gardenias to perfume the air.

  “You might say that. Let me give you the short tour of my borrowed digs.”

  Sarah o-o-oed and a-a-ahed at detail after detail but when they entered the kitchen Peter’s grin was almost audible.

  “So, you like the kitchen, do you?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah.” He opened the walk-in cooler and gathered zippered bags of vegetables and sliced meats. He handed Sarah a bottle of chilled wine.