Witch Angel

by Trana Mae Simmons

  “Oh, Jake.”

  Jake continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “They wonder, too, whether there really is an afterlife. Death is so final and unexplainable. One instant, there’s a vital person, full of life and emotions. Then just a shell that it looks like the same person, but the essential part that made the person who he was—the life—is gone.”

  Studying Jake’s wrinkled face, Alaynia realized, given his age, he’d probably begun wondering seriously about his own mortality and state of being after he died. She slipped a hand free and brushed at his frazzled hair. Jake focused his gaze, which had turned inward with his thoughts, and chuckled deprecatingly.

  “Listen to me,” he said. “Here I am off on one of my tangents. Guess I’m getting senile.”

  “I need you, Jake,” she said selfishly. “You’ve accepted me wholly, and I don’t think I could have gotten through this so far without you. Please take care of yourself.”

  “Well,” he mused, his pale eyes beginning to twinkle. “You’ve given me something to look forward to each day, niece. Now let’s get back on track here, and you tell me what’s been happening to you at Chenaie.”

  “I better change clothes while we talk.” Alaynia rose unsteadily to her feet. Gritting her teeth and forcing an outward display of calmness her knotted stomach muscles belied, she walked over to where she’d hung her dress on a hook on the wall earlier that day. Jake agreeably stepped around the wall, giving her privacy.

  Spoken aloud, as Jake replied with a word of acknowledgment now and then from the other side of the wall, her experiences at Chenaie seemed ridiculous. A fascination for the graveyard—and a few seconds of immobility, which could have come from her shattered nerves. The dusty letters and Bible, which she might not have noticed earlier for the same reason. One thing she couldn’t explain was Tana’s vision of her arrival, and the healer’s uneasiness in the Camellia Room—the same uneasiness that overtook Alaynia at times.

  Already sweltering in the yards of dress material, Alaynia joined Jake on the other side of the wall. “Jake,” she insisted, “one conclusion you’ve come to is definitely right. That the car had nothing to do with me coming here. What happened was that I drove it through a time warp—a hole in time. And for me to get back, I’m going to have to find that hole again. It has to still be there. It was huge enough to swallow the car.”

  “But you’ve been looking for it?”

  Alaynia nodded abruptly. “Every time I leave Chenaie, I watch for anything strange. But I’ll never find it in all the underbrush along the roads and Spanish moss hanging from the trees, unless I can force myself to leave the roadbed and search on foot. And I’ve got sense enough not to do that alone.”

  They strolled toward the entrance to the barn. “For me to figure this out, you’re going to have to tell me some of the stories about Chenaie. No one else will. We’ll have to see if any of them fit in with what’s happened to me.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll ... uh ...”

  The buggy was pulled up beside the barn door, and Shain leaned against one of the wheels, his long legs crossed negligently and heels of his hands propped on the iron wheel rim behind him. His stance stretched his white shirt tightly across his shoulders, and it gaped open in a vee down his neck. His brown eyes centered instantly on her, though the rest of his rugged face remained motionlessly stern.

  Alaynia’s stomach knotted again and she faltered a step. Then, lifting her chin a notch, she walked toward him as though pulled irresolutely by a silken thread. “Jake would’ve brought me back,” she murmured. “You didn’t have to take time away from your duties at Chenaie.”

  “Yes I did,” Shain growled in a low voice, his eyes scanning her avidly. “I was making a bumbling idiot out of myself, because I couldn’t keep my mind on my work. After I let Black wander down a row of cotton seeds one of the workers had just planted, Cole and Carrington ran me off.”

  He uncrossed his legs and straightened, reaching for her arms. “I went back to the manor house and tried to do some paperwork, but Jeannie came into the study and asked if I minded her spending time with you. After I gave her permission—well, after she wheedled permission out of me with those expressive blue eyes and threats to pout for days—I realized how much time had passed since I’d had any time with you myself.”

  “It was only yesterday afternoon,” Alaynia said.

  “Twenty-four hours that seemed like twenty-four years,” Shain admitted. “And twenty-two of those years drug by last night. Jeannie went off to work on her lessons, so she could get that out of the way before you came home. And that damned house echoed with emptiness.”

  A brilliant smile crawled over Alaynia’s face. Only Jake’s presence kept her from flinging herself into Shain’s embrace and wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “Guess you’ve got a ride back to Chenaie,” Jake said with a chuckle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, niece.”

  * * * *

  Jake sauntered away as Shain and Alaynia both murmured a distracted goodbye. After climbing the rickety porch steps, he turned and watched the buggy withdraw down the lane. As soon as it disappeared, he determinedly pushed the cabin door open and called for Zeke.

  The elderly black man stood up from his seat in a cane chair beside a wobbly table. “She be gone, Mister Jake?” he asked.

  “She’ll be back tomorrow,” Jake said in a firm voice. “And you need to tell her what you want done for a kitchen house, instead of pretending you’re too busy in your garden. I walked over that garden while you were out fetching the cow a while ago, and you’ll have to start chopping down plants if you want anything to use your hoe on tomorrow.”

  “Got’s to water it tomorrow. Ain’t been no rain and my punkin plants needs water, you want any of that there punkin pie come fall. Sweet taters, they’s about ready to dig, too.”

  Sighing in resignation, Jake sat down and motioned for Zeke to take his seat again. Zeke complied grudgingly, and picked up a bowl of peas he’d been shelling.

  “Zeke, listen to me,” Jake began. “I’ve got a feeling that you know a heck of a lot more than even I do about how Alaynia got here. You never told me why you decided to leave Chenaie and come over here to live with me. And I never pushed you, because I’ve been darned happy at the food you cook up—as well as the company and friendship.”

  Zeke nodded warily, his fingers continuing to break open pods and brush the peas into his bowl. “You never said it out loud, but I knows you ‘preciate my cookin’.”

  “And your friendship,” Jake repeated. “In fact, I probably owe you whatever life I have left in this old body, my friend. If not for you, I’d have laid there and died that day Stubborn knocked me senseless.”

  “Man goes when it’s his time,” Zeke said with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “Weren’t your time that day.”

  Jake leaned his elbows on the table and sat quietly, studying Zeke’s downcast face and the obstinate set to his lips. The silence in the room lengthened, broken only by the sounds of the pods ripping open and the peas dropping into the ceramic bowl. After a long moment, Zeke’s hands hesitated, and he slowly raised his head and pushed the bowl aside.

  “Massa Basil, him and me was good friends, too,” he whispered into the stillness. “Had us lots of talks. Thought that man was gonna go crazy when Missy Laureen died.”

  Zeke clasped his hands in front of him and laid his arms on the tabletop, gripping his fingers together tightly. “Him and Massa Christopher—Massa Shain’s papa—they just never did hit it off like a man and his son ought to. Tried to talk to him about that once, ‘cause it ‘peared like there was so dern much love a’tween him and Missy Laureen, there ought to be some there for Massa Christopher. But Massa Christopher, he didn’t seem to want to be close to either one a them. Heard Missy Laureen say one day the boy reminded her of her own papa—cold, and unfeelin’ like.”

  “If Basil had all that love in him to give to Laureen,” Jake mused, “Christopher must have been a
big disappointment, being so standoffish. And I can imagine Shain didn’t have an easy time, growing up with such a cold father.”

  “Didn’t,” Zeke agreed. “Sorta think that’s why Massa Shain ain’t never fell in love a’fore—seein’ his own mama and papa always bein’ so proper all the time—hearin’ them call each other Mister and Missus. Probably didn’t think bein’ married to a woman was all that important. Massa Basil, he was seventy-two when Massa Shain was born, and he spent lots of time with the boy a’fore he died when Massa Shain was only six. Massa Shain might not realize it himself, but I think he remembers them years, and he’s got a lot of his grampa in him. His feelin’s run deep. Just wish he’d’ve found someone besides that Miss ‘Laynia when he fell for his woman like his grampa did.”

  Zeke slowly lifted his eyes to Jake’s. “He’s gonna be just like his grampa—only ever gonna be one woman holdin’ his heart. And time don’t matter when a man loves a woman like that. Massa Basil, he ain’t never been able to let go of Missy Laureen.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that Basil’s spirit’s haunting Chenaie?” Jake asked in amazement. “That’s why you couldn’t stay there any longer—because you could still feel Basil there?”

  “Didn’t just feel him—he be there. Saw him a few times, and scared the bejeebers out of me. Finally couldn’t take it no longer, and I was out for a walk one day when I ran ‘cross your place. You was eatin’ them cold beans out of a can, and a man ought to have him a proper meal now and then.”

  Jake furrowed his brow in concentration. “You’ve only been with me a little over nine years, Zeke. I came here a couple years before the war broke out—after it got too crowded down by Lafayette. Basil had already been dead ... what? Eight years? Why’d it take you all that time before you decided to leave?”

  “Didn’t nothin’ happen ‘til Tana, she come there to stay, after the Yankees burnt Mister Cole’s house down. Missus Catherine, Massa Shain’s mama, she’d already got word that Massa Christopher was dead. She was wore out, tryin’ to take care of Missy Jeannie, who was ‘bout two then. All the other black folks had took off—left us on our own. Tana, she run over ahead of them soldiers. Missus Catherine was already down with the yeller fever, and Missy Jeannie startin’ to get sick, too. We nursed them, but we lost Missus Catherine. Pulled Missy Jeannie through, tho’.”

  Zeke shoved his chair back and stood. Sweat beaded his brow, and his hands clenched into fists by his sides. He stared wildly around the cabin, but Jake could tell his thoughts were turned inward, his eyes seeing beyond the confines of the wooden walls. He started to rise and go to Zeke, changing his mind at once when the other man spoke again in a voice filled with confused awe.

  “Lookin’ back on it, that’s when it must’ve happened. I heard Tana shoutin’ outside, and left Missus Catherine tossin’ and turnin’ on the settee in the parlor, carried Missy Jeannie with me. I’d had to keep Missy Catherine downstairs when she took sick. It would of been too much work—goin’ up and down them stairs all day to nurse her—and I weren’t in the best of shape myself, not havin’ a whole lot to eat them days.”

  Zeke took a deep breath, then fell silent. After a moment, Jake prodded, “Zeke, what happened next?”

  Opening his eyes with a start, Zeke appeared surprised to find himself not alone. Jake realized with a stab of compassion that it took everything in Zeke to continue.

  “Tana said she didn’t remember it later. But I seen it happen. She was runnin’ across the backyard toward me, and she went down in a heap like she’d run up ‘gainst a brick wall. Weren’t a cloud in the sky, but it got black as midnight. Kept tryin’ to tell myself it was them Yankee guns I heard, that rumblin’ noise, but Tana said later they was already marchin’ behind her. They’d finished all their shootin’ over at Mister Cole’s place—left everyone dead ‘cept Tana. I thought she was dead at first when she fell—like maybe she’d made it that far after bein’ shot herself.”

  Zeke shivered violently. “But then that darkness fell and that rumblin’ started. I could barely see Tana layin’ there—like a heap of rags, she looked. Couldn’t make my legs move to go to her, and Missy Jeannie, she started screamin’ to high heaven. Then there was a flash so bright it hurt my eyes and I shut them real quick. Missy Jeannie, she grabbed me ‘round the neck and hushed right up. I must’ve stood there for at least a half a minute, and when I finally looked the next time, Tana was runnin’ toward me again and it was light out.”

  Zeke carefully lowered himself into his chair once more. “Them Yankee soldiers never showed up at Chenaie,” he said, his gaze riveted on Jake’s face. “Went out the day we buried Missus Catherine by myself, to try to see which way they’d gone instead. There was a yeller fever flag nailed up on one of the trees ‘bout where they’d changed directions and went south. Tana, she’d come through the woods, and I never nailed that flag up there. I left it hanging, but a week later, it was gone.”

  “You think Basil’s spirit returned to Chenaie through Tana, who’s able to contact the spirit world herself,” Jake said quietly. “Basil nailed the flag up to protect his plantation and his granddaughter. And he’s stayed at Chenaie to protect it and be close to Laureen’s grave.”

  Zeke nodded his head ever so slowly up and down. “Think he stayed there after he died, but weren’t a strong ‘nuf spirit at first to be seen. Then when Tana come—a witch woman who talks to the other side—he come through her and got stronger. And he must’ve thought Miss ‘Laynia was gonna do somethin’ he didn’t like with Chenaie, so he brought her back here instead.”

  Chapter 18

  The moment he was out of sight of Jake’s cabin, Shain guided the buggy to the side of the road and wrapped the reins around the brake handle. He pulled Alaynia to him roughly and kissed her until she sagged weakly against his chest and whimpered with longing. He traced her slender back with his palms, then forced one hand between their bodies to cup her breast. The nipple hardened against his thumb, and a moan of desire tore from his throat, sliding past his tongue to lose itself in the depths of Alaynia’s welcoming mouth.

  Wrenching his lips free with a gasp for air, he took her hand and guided it between his legs. “Feel what you do to me?” he asked harshly.

  Alaynia smiled and gently rubbed her fingertips along his swollen need, and he closed his eyes in almost-pain. Suddenly her fingers slipped the top button on his fly loose. Before he could do more than open his eyes, the second button followed, and she closed her hand around him, stroking with a firm grip.

  He jerked her hand away and trapped it between them as he pushed her back onto the buggy seat. “I don’t have much control left,” he muttered. “Unless you want your skirts tossed right here on this seat, you better concentrate on some other part of me.”

  “Ummm.” She licked his chin, then ran her tongue around her lips. “You wanted me to touch you there.”

  Pinning her on the seat, Shain quickly scooped her skirt aside and ran a hand up her thigh. “I thought I could handle it,” he growled, “but I was wrong. I forgot how quickly you change from an angel to a witch when you touch me. Let’s see how it makes you feel when I touch you there, witch angel.”

  He delved his stroking fingers beneath her panties, and Alaynia immediately lost her last shred of control. Tugging her bodice down with his other hand, he slipped her breast free of the low-cut bra, captured her surging nipple and sucked greedily. She arched against him, a wordless moan keening from her throat.

  With a wretched groan of loss, Shain sat up abruptly and swept her against him, crushing her and burying his face in her hair. His heart thundered in his chest, the frantic beat matching the cadence of her gasping breaths.

  “No,” he whispered harshly. “Not here. Not like a pair of animals in heat.”

  He cupped her face in his palms, staring down into her shimmering blue eyes with their desire-laden gaze. “I can’t stand it when I think I’ve made you angry at me,” he muttered. “And when I get a chance
to have you alone again after we’ve fought, it’s like nothing will make up for it except making love to you until I’ve wiped away all the angry words.”

  “It’s my fault, too,” Alaynia replied, sliding her arms around his waist. “I’ve been so mixed up—so scared.”

  Shain dropped his hands from her face and ran them up and down her arms. “I know. I promised to take care of you—to try to understand how you felt. And all I’ve done is attempt to force you to mind me like the child Jeannie used to be. I should’ve made time to be with you—or kept you with me.”

  Alaynia took a steadying breath. “I’m not scared of being here at Chenaie in 1875 any longer. I’ll just have to make the best of it, until ...”

  “Until you can figure out how to go home,” Shain finished for her in a flat voice.

  “You really don’t understand, do you?” Alaynia said with a wistful smile. “What I’m scared of now is what will happen if I don’t go back.”

  “Don’t?”

  “Uh-huh. Going back to my own time now would devastate me, because it would separate me from you for all eternity. But staying here might be a fate just as horrible. I’m falling in love with you, Shain St. Clair.”

  “I didn’t dare hope.” Shain slowly lowered his head. “I didn’t dare hope that you might love me in return, the way I’m coming to love you. I’m falling so damned fast—so hard.”

  Alaynia cherished the surge of awe and pleasure skittering over her body as she stared deep into his soft brown eyes, reading the truth of his words in their depths. That he had come for her, admitted their argument had disturbed him so deeply, and now confessed to the same feelings she had for him, filled her with a sense of ecstasy far beyond the physical comfort of being in his arms again. This man from across time was everything to her—everything she could have ever wished for herself.