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Addison Lockhart 3

Page 4

by Cheryl Bradshaw


  “Maybe if you put your pajamas on and get under the covers, you would be.”

  “Nah. I never get sleepy anymore.”

  “What are you doing up so late?”

  “Waiting.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  Billy blinked, but didn’t answer the question. “Will you play with me? No one plays with me anymore. No one has played with me for a long time.”

  Addison moved closer. “Sure, what would you like to play?”

  Billy presented a red ball he’d been concealing behind his back and sat down. “We can only play tonight.”

  “Why only tonight?”

  “I have to go soon.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Away. Somewhere far from here, I think.”

  Billy stared at the bedroom door, and his face turned white. “Shh. Someone is coming.”

  “Who’s coming?” Addison whispered.

  Billy pressed a finger to his lips, prompting Addison to stop talking. The house was quiet. Not even a single creak in the floor was heard. Could he have been talking about a spirit?

  After a minute, Billy said, “I think it’s okay now. The bad person is gone.”

  “Who’s the bad person, Billy?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not supposed to tell.”

  “Why not?”

  “She told me not to tell.”

  “Who told you?”

  Billy sat down. “I’ll roll the ball to you. Then you roll it back. ‘Kay?”

  Addison nodded and crossed her legs in front of her on the floor, wondering if there was a better way to get Billy to answer her questions. And then one presented itself. “I have an idea. Every time I roll the ball back to you, I get to ask you a question, and you have to answer it. Sound fair?”

  He shrugged. “Guess so.”

  Billy rolled the ball. Addison reached out to grab it. The moment it grazed her hand, the room began spinning, colors swirling like liquid in a blender. First blue, then gray, then black. Lightheaded, Addison closed her eyes. When she opened them, she found herself in the same room she was in before. The furniture was the same, but the room looked different now. It was almost evening, and everything was clean. The walls were no longer dingy and instead were coated in fresh blue paint. Billy was gone, but she wasn’t alone. A woman sat on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands.

  “Hello,” Addison said. “Can you hear me?”

  The woman didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge her.

  There were two quick knocks on the bedroom door, and then another female entered, a much younger Mrs. Ravencroft.

  “I came as soon as I heard, Cora.” The younger Mrs. Ravencroft sat on the bed, wrapping an arm around Cora to console her. “There, there. Let’s not worry until we know what’s happened. Have you heard anything?”

  Cora removed her hands from her face, and Addison gasped.

  It was her—the woman in black.

  Mrs. Ravencroft had known her.

  Struggling to form words, Cora muttered, “No, nothing. Not a word, Catherine.”

  Catherine. Mrs. Ravencroft’s name, the same name as Catherine Earnshaw, the protagonist in Wuthering Heights. Catherine’s fascination with Emily Bronte made more sense now.

  “Raymond has gone out looking for Joseph,” Catherine said. “I’m sure he’ll find him, and then all this fretting will be for nothing. You’ll see. My brother is a skilled sailor. They both are.”

  “You don’t know that. You saw the storm.” Cora stared out the window. “I told Joseph not to take the boat out today. I knew it was too windy. He wouldn’t listen. He just said he’d been sailing since he was a boy, and I was worrying for nothing.”

  Catherine walked to the window, her eyes searching the ocean. “Let’s not draw any conclusions until we know more. The winds have died down now, and the storm has passed. Maybe he was blown off course and had to find shelter.”

  Cora shook her head. “I’m afraid, Catherine. Something has happened. I know it has. I don’t feel him like I usually do. It’s like he’s ... like he’s—”

  “You’re not doing yourself or anyone else any favors by losing your mind right now. We’re all worried. Try to calm down until we know for certain. There’s no use getting riled up. Not yet, anyway.”

  Even in her earlier years, Catherine’s pragmatic attitude was apparent. What wasn’t certain was the connection between Catherine and Cora.

  The sound of a door slamming rattled the house. Cora’s eyes widened. She exchanged glances with Catherine, and though Catherine tried to remain calm, her eyes proved she too was on edge.

  Heavy footsteps ascended the stairs. A man entered. He was tall, at least six foot five in height, with piercing hazel eyes and a burly physique.

  Cora stood, her hands fisted into balls at her sides. “Raymond?”

  “What have you learned?” Catherine added.

  Raymond glanced at Catherine, then walked over to Cora, clutching her hands in his. He rubbed her palms with his thumbs, stared into her eyes, and said, “I found Joe’s boat.”

  Tears welled in Cora’s eyes. “What do you mean you found the boat? What about Joseph? Was he inside? Where is he? Is he all right?”

  Raymond paused. “The boat, when I got to it ... it wasn’t in good shape. It looked like the sea had destroyed it. It’s a miracle I found it at all. The sail was ripped down the middle, and—”

  “Raymond,” Cora pressed. “I don’t care about the boat. Where is Joseph?”

  Raymond inhaled a long, deep breath of air. “I don’t know. I don’t ... he wasn’t ... he wasn’t in the boat when I found it.”

  Cora’s legs collapsed beneath her, her body melting into Raymond’s arms.

  Raymond looked at Catherine. “I don’t think ... she’s stopped breathing.”

  Catherine approached. “Put her on the bed. Let me have a look at her.”

  Raymond nodded, gently placing Cora’s ragdoll body down.

  Catherine hung over her, placing a finger beneath Cora’s nose. “She’s breathing. She’s probably just fainted.”

  “I’ll call the doctor.”

  “Nonsense. She’s just had a shock. Give her a moment to recover. She’ll be fine.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “You’re right, you shouldn’t have. Not the way you said it, anyway. It’s your fault, you know. She’s under enough stress as it is, with the baby and everything, something you might have considered before opening your mouth.” Catherine slapped Cora’s cheek. “Come on now, wake up.”

  Cora’s eyes fluttered open. She looked at Catherine. “What happened?”

  “You fainted.” Catherine turned toward Raymond. “Get her some water, would you?”

  He nodded and left the room.

  At the same time, Gene entered. He tilted his head, staring at Cora, confused. “How is she?”

  “Not well. She’s had a shock.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Unless you know how to mend her broken heart, I should say not.”

  “I thought he’d be okay,” Gene said. “He’s used to those waters. We all are.”

  “He may well be, but the sea was a different animal today.”

  Glancing over her shoulder, Addison noticed Billy sitting in a chair.

  It’s not possible. I’m in a memory. How can he be here with me?

  “Billy?” Addison asked. “Can you see me?”

  He nodded. “You said you’d play with me, and you didn’t.”

  He hopped off of the chair and floated toward the bedroom door. Addison followed after him.

  “Wait! Billy, hold on.”

  He stopped. “Why? You’re just like everyone else.”

  “Did you see who pushed me out of the window earlier?”

  He looked down, fiddling with a button on his shirt.

  “You did see,” Addison said. “Didn’t you?”

  “I don’t want to
talk about it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the bad person might come.”

  “Who will come? Who’s the bad person? Does the bad person talk to you?”

  “No.”

  “Does the bad person see you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Whose vision am I in now? Is this your vision? Did you bring me here?”

  Billy lifted a finger and shook his head, pointing at the bed. “She did.”

  “Cora?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you know why?”

  “She wants you to see.”

  “Why is she still here? Why can’t she leave?”

  “She’s waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “She’s afraid the bad person is going to do bad things.”

  “Who is the bad person, Billy?”

  Billy cupped a hand, holding it out to Addison. She looked down. It was then she realized she was still holding the red ball. “I’ll toss it back to you and we can keep playing if you tell me about the bad person, okay?”

  “I ... I don’t know. She said I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

  “How about this—you don’t have to say the bad person’s name out loud. You can whisper the name into my ear.”

  Billy shrugged. “And then you’ll play with me?”

  Addison nodded.

  “Oh-kay.”

  Addison crouched down, but as soon as the ball released from her hands, the room began spinning again. This time when everything came to a stop, she found herself back in the present, in the same room where everything had started. The ball was in the center of the bed. And Billy was gone.

  CHAPTER 9

  Addison woke a few hours later wrapped in Luke’s warm embrace. She rolled over, running a finger along his arm. He yawned, stretching his arms out to the side.

  “Where did you run off to last night?” he asked. “I woke up, and you weren’t here.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I went downstairs and ran into Catherine in the parlor.”

  He raised a brow. “Okay, wait. I’m confused. Who’s Catherine?”

  “Mrs. Ravencroft.”

  “Huh. Okay.”

  “Luke, last night I ... no. I need to start from the beginning.”

  Luke propped a pillow up behind him. “Is this going to be a short story or a long one? Should I grab some coffee first?”

  He winked.

  Addison frowned.

  He reached out, running a hand through Addison’s hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you. You have my full attention. What’s going on?”

  “Something bad happened here, Luke. In the manor or outside of it—I’m not sure yet. I’m still trying to figure it all out.”

  “How do you know? Have you seen something?”

  “I’ve seen a lot, and I know what you’re going to say—I should have told you before. And you’re right.”

  “All right. Tell me now.”

  Addison filled Luke in, sharing every detail of what she had experienced since they arrived at the manor. By the look on his face, it was obvious her omission had pained him.

  “Why am I only hearing about this now?” he asked.

  “I didn’t want to worry you, and I didn’t want it to affect our wedding.”

  “Whether it would have or not, we don’t keep things from each other. Ever. You should have told me.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Luke. To be honest, I didn’t want to deal with it at first. Of all the days for it to happen, it didn’t seem fair. It was our wedding day. I didn’t want anything to ruin it.”

  “I guess this means we’re not checking out today?”

  “I have to convince Catherine to let us stay a bit longer, which won’t be easy. She doesn’t like me, especially after all that’s happened. And she lied to me. She knows Cora, which means she knows what happened to her and why. What I don’t understand is why she’s denying it.”

  “You pointed out a dead woman and said you saw her walking around the manor as if she were still alive. Think of it from her perspective. She’s spooked, and I’m sure she’s questioning who you really are and why you’re here.”

  “She knows why we’re here. It’s not like I showed up pretending to be someone who was getting married.”

  He placed a hand over hers. “Think about it, though. She doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who believes spirits exist. For all she knows, you got married here to throw her off because you have an ulterior motive to drudge up a past she probably wants to forget. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t really like her either.”

  He was right.

  She didn’t.

  And she’d never been any good at faking affection for anyone.

  “The question now is: how can I get through to her so she’ll open up to me?” Addison asked.

  “Why don’t you just try talking to her—connecting with her without expectations?”

  Addison thought about the conversation she’d had with Catherine the night before. Maybe Luke was right. She had a habit of asking too many questions. “I’ll try again.”

  Luke reached out, grabbing his cell phone from the nightstand.

  “What are you doing?” Addison asked.

  “I have a new home-renovation job I’m supposed do a walkthrough on later on today. I’m going to call and see if I can push it off another few days.”

  Addison shook her head. “Don’t make any changes on my behalf. You head back. I can handle this. We’re supposed to leave on our honeymoon a week from today. Whatever is going on here, it might resolve itself faster if I do this on my own. If I don’t, we won’t be going anywhere.”

  Luke shook his head. “I don’t like it. I don’t feel right about leaving you.”

  “I won’t be alone. I’m sure Gran will stay with me, and nothing is going to happen with her around. Besides, you won’t be far. Ocean Beach is only a few hours from Rhinebeck. I’ll check in with you throughout the day, and I’ll call if anything out of the ordinary happens. I promise.”

  He pulled her hands up to his lips, kissing them. “I don’t know, Addison. I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “How about this. Drive home, do your walkthrough, and then check in with me and see how things are going. If you’re still worried, you can head back. Besides, I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Which is?”

  “My father doesn’t know what’s happening. Well, he doesn’t know much. I’d like to keep it that way. If he thinks I’m sticking around, he’ll assume something’s wrong. I’m going to tell him I’m spending some time with Gran before the honeymoon, and she’s giving me a ride back to Rhinebeck. That way, he will leave with you.”

  Luke rubbed his chin, considering her request. “How about a compromise? I’ll take your father back, drop him at his house, and check in on my renovation project. But I’m returning tonight.”

  “You really don’t have to—”

  “I won’t be able to sit at home, knowing you’re here. If anything happened, I would be too far away to get here fast enough.”

  Addison conceded to his request, knowing if she tried to deter him, he wouldn’t be swayed. It wasn’t worth the debate. “All right. I’ll see you later on tonight then.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Be careful, but figure out what’s going on here so you can be done with this place. I’d like my wife back sooner than later.”

  CHAPTER 10

  There was a knock at their bedroom door.

  “Come in,” Addison said.

  Whitney entered the room, holding a tray in her hands. “I brought you and your husband breakfast.”

  “Thank you. I’m starving. What’s on the menu today?”

  “French toast. I make everything from scratch, even the bread. I hope you like it. There’s also some fresh fruit and bacon. And I keep forgetting to ask you what you both like to drink, so I have coffee, tea, and orange juice.”
r />   “Sounds wonderful. Luke went to talk to my father. He’ll be right back, and then we’ll eat.”

  Whitney nodded, and Addison expected her to leave the room. Instead, she just stood there.

  “Is everything all right?” Addison asked.

  “Oh, yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.”

  “Thanks again for breakfast. I’ll bring the plates to the kitchen when we’ve finished.”

  Whitney swatted the air. “Oh, don’t bother. I’ll come back around in an hour and collect it all. Gives me something to do. I ... umm ... I wanted to tell you ... I wasn’t completely honest with you before.”

  “About what?”

  “When you asked me about kids. I don’t want to bother you, though. We can talk later.”

  “It’s no bother.” Addison gestured toward a chair. “Do you want to sit down?”

  Whitney glanced to the side, like she expected Catherine to be lurking somewhere close. “I shouldn’t, but maybe just for a minute.” She sat down, crossing one leg over the other. “When I said I couldn’t have kids, I didn’t mean to say I was infertile. I meant it’s too hard for me to have them.”

  Too hard was a broad statement, filling Addison’s mind with a checklist of various possibilities on the right way to respond. “What’s right for one person isn’t always right for another. We all have to look out for our needs sometimes.”

  “It’s just ... I had a daughter with my ex-husband.”

  Whitney blurted the words like they had been locked inside a pressure cooker, desperate to get out.

  “Oh?”

  “She was born with a heart defect. She lived for three weeks. In our pain to try to get past what happened, my ex thought if we had another child, it would make everything better. He coped with the loss of our daughter by acting like she had never been born in the first place, like all we needed was a quick fix, a do-over, and life would be normal again.”

  “I can’t imagine,” Addison said. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. Not for having her, anyway. They were three of the best weeks of my life. I held her in my arms, sang her to sleep, kissed her tiny forehead. I mean, I knew she wasn’t going to make it, but just for a few precious moments, I was a mother. I was her mother. I could have had other children with him, I suppose, but there was a void in my heart after she was gone. A void that hasn’t gone away until recently.”

 

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