Loxley Belle

by M. L. Bullock

  Goodbye, Summerleigh. I will be back soon. Keep my treasures safe!

  And as if it heard me and agreed, the house groaned a little.

  As I made the sweaty walk back to the car, I began to experience feelings of impending doom. Weighty emotions like grief and sorrow struck me, and by the time I arrived back to the car and put the keys in the ignition, I was in tears. The only consolation was that Daddy had suddenly joined me. His presence, prized and precious to me, also disturbed me greatly now. He’d never left Summerleigh before. He always pottered around with his plants and pots when he wasn’t walking the halls making sure the place was safe. But then as suddenly as he appeared, he disappeared, as if he knew his presence caused me to worry. I managed to brush away the tears before turning onto Highway 98, but I prayed all the way home.

  When I arrived, I spotted Reverend Bartlett’s car in the driveway and realized that all the praying in the world wasn’t going to reverse whatever doom awaited me. Had the school called? Was I going to jail for my heinous deeds? Had my thieving ways finally caught up to me? Certainly, they would have called the sheriff out here, not the pastor.

  Oh, Daddy, please stay with me. Don’t leave me now.

  No manner of pleading would compel him to come with me, and I walked inside alone.

  Chapter One—Jerica

  “You two go have fun and don’t give us a second thought. Jordan and I will have a grand old time without you two cramping our style. Jordan loves his Aunt Ree-Ree. Don’t you, sugar?” Renee kissed my son’s cheeks, and he laughed with delight. Yes, he did love her, and she’d been in his life from day one. I was grateful for her help since my parents were gone and I had no siblings. Mommyhood was a scary job.

  “Thanks, Aunt Ree-Ree. You two don’t get too wild. We won’t be gone long,” I promised as I did my best to put on a happy face. Wow, new mommy guilt was a real thing.

  “Are you two sure this is how you want to spend your day off together? Working in a dirty old shed? Honestly, I’ve never seen two goofier people. Getting all worked up about carpentry. Mommy and Daddy are crazy, Jordan. I’d rather be at the beach, wouldn’t you?” Jesse and I grinned at each other. We were goofy, and I didn’t take Renee’s opinion as criticism. She just had no filter, and I had no doubt she thought we were an odd couple. “I guess everyone has to have a hobby. That must be the secret to a good relationship. You need to have a mutual hobby. Maybe Frank and I should take up something together. But what? I love bingo. What do you think, Jordan? Should Aunt Ree-Ree take Uncle Frank to bingo?”

  Jesse laughed at that. “You are never going to get Frank anywhere near a bingo hall. I hate to say it, but he is probably the unluckiest guy I’ve ever met. But at least he has you, so maybe that means his luck is turning.” He hugged her neck and kissed Jordan’s plump cheek. It was hard to believe that our little one was three months old today. Until now, except for one dinner date, I had made it a point not to be too far from him for very long. I liked being at home and witnessing all of his firsts. But let’s face it, at three months old, there weren’t a lot of significant firsts going on except some cooing and turning over. It was a good thing I had quick reflexes, or else Jordan would’ve hit the floor this morning. I’d only turned my back for a few seconds, but that was long enough for him to navigate the diaper changing table and almost roll onto the floor. I cried for fifteen minutes, which made him cry, and we were both two blubber boxes by the time Jesse came home from the grocery store. I had not confessed that horrible near accident to anyone, not even Jesse, but Jordan knew. And so did I.

  Man, I’m not too good at this, but I love you, Jordan.

  Jesse’s cousin Renee was a reliable person, and I didn’t believe she’d ever make such a horrible mistake. She would never take her eyes off a curious baby. I had no worries about that. Renee had no children of her own, but it wasn’t too late. Her plumbing worked fine, as she often reminded me. And with her and Frisky Frank, as Jesse and I secretly called him, anything was possible.

  “Go, Jerica. Before you change your mind. You’ve got some remodeling to do. I’ll have lunch ready when you two get back. See you around noontime. Shoo!”

  “Sounds great,” Jesse said as he tugged on my shirt sleeve.

  I waved goodbye to Jordan, who had no idea what was going on except that funny Aunt Ree-Ree was playing games with him. I guess it was a good thing that he was focused on Renee’s comical face. Here lately, he cried whenever I left his line of sight. The door closed behind us, and Jesse and I stepped out into the sunshine. It was a beautiful day at Summerleigh, and it felt good to go outside and stretch my bones. There were things that needed to be tended to around here, but this new find had captured our attention.

  “You got everything you need?” I asked Jesse as we loaded up into his truck.

  “Yeah, I think so. I just hope that pothole hasn’t grown any bigger, but I can navigate around it. Definitely got to take care of this road, though. At least the rain stopped.” Jesse was right to worry about the condition of the dirt roads that trailed around our house. It had been raining for days. I didn’t realize how dreary the gray skies had left me feeling.

  “Any idea what this place was? I mean, it’s so far away from the river that it couldn’t have been used for a fishing shack. Could it?”

  “A playhouse, maybe, or another potting shed. The possibilities are endless, but I know what it’s going to be.” Jesse didn’t seem too concerned with the origins of the shed, but I had a nagging curiosity.

  “It’s too well-built to be a potting shed—and too large. But whatever it was, I’m glad we’re doing this. This was a great idea of mine, wasn’t it?” I smiled at him flirtatiously.

  It was true that it had been my idea to transform this old shack or shed or whatever it was into Jesse’s own space. When I suggested it, I didn’t realize that we’d be doing the remodeling right this week. It had been so long since I worked a sander or held a saw. True, we had plenty of room at Summerleigh for a writer’s den, especially when we were experiencing a seasonal downturn in our bed-and-breakfast’s business, but this place was meant for something special. I could just feel it. And Jesse deserved a place of his own, a place to get lost in his stories, his own little spot where he could go write himself into a frenzy. I wanted that for him. It had been a long time since he’d written anything, and he needed to get back into the swing of things. That’s what he needed. We had both immersed ourselves in our new lives as parents and business owners and the sometimes-challenging aspects of learning about one another. My husband loved Jordan and me, but Jesse Clarke needed to write the next book. For him. And I knew for a fact he had plenty of stories to tell. He’d given the Belles life with his last book and very respectfully shared their tragic tales with the world, but now it was time to move on and do something fresh and new.

  “It’s a great idea. I’ve never had a writer’s shack before. It is away from the house, though. What if you need me?”

  “I know how to pick up a phone, Jess. Or we can install one of those fancy intercoms.” His eyes widened, and he cocked his head to the side. “I’m just joking. The whole point of you going to your shack—excuse me, your writer’s den—is to get lost in the words, right? You don’t need any interruptions. I’ll be okay. Oh, there it is. I can’t believe this was here the whole time and we never knew it. It makes you wonder what else is on this property.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if there is more to see. The more woods we clear, the more we tidy the place up, the more I am amazed by it all. I wish there was a way I could thank Harper. Her gift to you changed both of our lives.”

  I squeezed his hand. “She knows. I think she visits once in a while.” I didn’t dwell on that statement. Jesse was happy believing the Belle family was happy and at rest. I guessed I believed that too, but sometimes…

  “It is possible that John Jeffrey Belle built it. Or maybe old Ben Hartley. He did a lot of work around the place before he went…before he got si
ck.” We came to a stop in front of the small wooden building. It had one window on the front—a small window that was dirty and would need replacing. There were a slender door and a very small porch too. There were two windows on either side of the structure but none at the back. Jesse turned off the engine, and I grabbed my work gloves from the glove box.

  Yep, it was going to be great getting all dirty. I still couldn’t believe that we hadn’t known this building even existed a week ago. I smiled at him as we headed toward the shed. It really was a well-built building.

  “I’d say maybe eighty years old, maybe ninety.” Jesse rubbed the wood with his fingers and studied the woodwork like the professional carpenter he was, and I agreed with him.

  “Maybe older. Who knows?” The front door opened easily despite its age and bad condition. We stepped inside, and I immediately felt as if I had stepped back in time. Yeah, this place was like a time capsule. The dated furniture would have to go, and that made me sad. None of it was really valuable, but a small part of me wanted to keep it. I loved old things, and so did my husband. Between the two of us, we could very easily become hoarders, but thankfully we had Renee in our lives. She always brought us back down to earth.

  “I guess we ought to get started. Shouldn’t take us long to get all the stuff out here. I’m anxious to take a look at the wood. You think the floors are okay?” I asked as I reached for the nearest broken chair.

  Jesse slid his gloves on and then halfheartedly jumped up and down. With a grin, he said, “It feels promising, not spongy, but we’ll have to see if that’s true for the whole room. I’m hoping. Let’s get this loaded.” And that’s what we did for the next hour. We dragged out dusty furniture and boxes of junk. There was nothing of worth in any of the boxes, but there was plenty of evidence that rodents had regularly visited the place. I kept my eye out for snakes and rats. Unfortunately for Jesse, I insisted on going through every single box before committing it to the junk pile. As soon as we got the last box out, we attempted to move the only table in the room. It was surprisingly heavy, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how we were going to get it through the door. It didn’t break into parts or come apart. It appeared that whoever brought the desk in here had actually built it in this room, which seemed a strange thing.

  “Ugh, what are you going to do? I’m not strong enough to carry this monstrosity too far. And there’s the question of how to break it down.”

  Jesse rubbed his hand across the surface of the table. “You know, I might just keep it. Maybe it was meant to be here. Kind of feels like that. I’d need to sand it and maybe paint it, but I’ll make it work.”

  “Paint it? The heck you say. Let’s sweep this floor and look at the wood.” I headed to Jesse’s truck and grabbed the brooms. The floor was so covered in grime that it would take forever to get it clean, but we were anxious to really have a good look at her bones. As my dad used to say, if you have a good floor, that’s a great place to start. Together we manned the brooms and got the dirt out in about thirty minutes. We moved enough of it that we finally got a decent look at the amazing wooden floor that lay hidden beneath.

  “This is great! I don’t see any damage at all. This is going to be an amazing place when we’re finished with it, Jerica. Thank you.” We were covered in dirt and still holding our brooms, dust particles floating around us, but Jesse squeezed me up in his arms and I didn’t struggle. It’d been a while since we’d been “alone together,” and it was nice to flirt again. Or rather it was nice to flirt with the potential of it going somewhere other than a kiss on the cheek and a sleepy good night. I felt tired a lot since Jordan came. I couldn’t explain why, other than that I dreamed about Marisol all the time. Sometimes at night when I paced the floor with my colicky baby, I imagined I saw a little shadow sneaking around corners, moving past me in the hall. But it had only been hopeful imaginings. My mind didn’t really want her to come back, but my heart missed her with all my being.

  Marisol, you should see your little brother. You would love him.

  I lost myself in Jesse’s affection, praying that the grief would pass and I could enjoy the moment.

  No, Jerica. Don’t do this. You released her when you laid Jeopardy to rest. Don’t summon her back.

  “Jerica,” Jesse whispered in my ear, “I love you.” The air in the room felt lighter, the lingering grief vanished, and I welcomed his embrace. We’re alone; may as well make the most of the moment. Nobody would know. As if we were both thinking the same thing, we dropped our brooms. Jesse caught me up in his arms and kissed me passionately, and I met it with my own need. Next thing I knew, we were against the wall, still kissing, and then he carried me to the table without missing a beat. Luckily, boxes had been stacked on top of the table and the top wasn’t too dirty. Our hands were everywhere, my skin was sweaty, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.

  Were we really going to do this here? It felt so wild, and I wasn’t one to do wild things. Not really.

  Suddenly, Jesse paused and said, “What is that?”

  Confused and a little disappointed, I stopped and turned to look behind me. There were scratch marks on the table. No, not scratch marks but words. Jesse released me gently and I rearranged my top as both of us peered at what appeared to be words carved into the wood panel. If it had been just a name or some initials, I wouldn’t have thought it much to look at, but it was more than that.

  Carved sloppily, in all capital letters, was a name I knew but hadn’t seen or heard in a very long time. Except in my own mind. I rubbed the carving with my fingers but shuddered at the rest of the phrase. The long, exaggerated strike marks filled me with dread. All the warmth left the shack, and I withdrew my hand.

  YOU’RE MINE, LOXLEY.

  Chapter Two—Loxley

  When I arrived home, I found Aunt Dot in the living room weeping on Reverend Bartlett’s bony shoulder. Her red nose, damp eyes and runny mascara were additional clues that all was not well. A tragedy of some sort must have occurred because Aunt Dot didn’t cry at the drop of a hat. The presence of the pastor disturbed me no end.

  “No,” I whispered as my aunt approached me. “No, please, Aunt Dot. Don’t say it.”

  Her tiny frame vibrated with grief as she rose from the couch. Her small mouth worked, but nothing came out except a sob. Her face was in her hands as Reverend Bartlett remembered himself. He placed an awkward arm around her sagging shoulders.

  “There now, Dorothy. You did all you could for her. You have to think of the child now.”

  What child was he referring to? Me?

  And then I knew. I knew it all, but my intuition offered me no comfort. Momma was dead—not Harper or Addison. At least there was that. But Momma was gone forever! I would never see her again. Not on this side of heaven, if either of us made it there. For the first time in my entire life, I felt real anger toward Aunt Dot. It was real and vicious, and it bubbled up inside me from somewhere dark and dangerous.

  “I knew she needed me! I knew it, and you wouldn’t let me go. I should have visited her, Aunt Dot. Why didn’t you let me go? I’ll never see Momma again, will I? That’s it, isn’t it? If we had gone to see her, none of this would have happened!” It was a ridiculous thing to say, and I didn’t even understand why I would say such a thing, but the words flew out of my mouth like bats out of hell. Better than screaming my head off and expressing all the anger that filled my soul. But I needed to scream! Scream to the heavens as loudly as I could. Didn’t God see anything that was going on down here?

  Reverend Bartlett stuttered as he tried to take command of the situation. “Now, young lady. Don’t say things you will regret later. Especially to your sweet aunt. After all she’s done for you, Loxley, you and your sisters should be eternally grateful. She didn’t have to take you in, but she did out of the goodness of her heart. You may have lost a mother, but she lost a sister. Your Momma was a very unbalanced woman.”

  Not unlike you, I imagined him thinking. He was a pas
tor, so he probably knew all my secrets. Didn’t God tell pastors secrets? That proved it; if Momma was crazy, then I must be too. Those things were inherited. I read that in a magazine once, one of Dr. Earl’s magazines he left out in his waiting room. I put my hands to my ears, as if I could make it all go away by stopping the noise of my own mind. Aunt Dot continued to weep; she sagged now and collapsed on the sofa.

  I fled the living room and slammed my bedroom door as hard as I could. I wanted to shut him out! I knew Momma was crazy—I knew better than he did. Who was he to judge me? I turned on my small bedside radio. Perry Como sang No Other Love as I emptied my soul of every available tear. I cried so hard I thought I might throw up, but after lying on my bed for what felt like an eternity, I fell asleep.

  When I woke up, the radio had been turned off and it was dark out. The door to my room was ajar. Light from the hallway shone on my face, and I realized there was a figure sitting beside me. Tall, with excellent posture. Too tall to be Aunt Dot. “Momma?” I whispered as I tried to sit up without scaring her away.

  “No. It’s me, Loxley Grace. Harper.” She clicked on my pink lamp, and I could see her face clearly. I threw my arms around her neck, and together we cried for Momma. “I know, I know.”

  “I wanted to see Momma, Harper. I knew I needed to go. Now I’ll never know…” I sobbed as she held me a little while longer.

  “Know what, Loxley?”

  I pulled away from her and clutched my favorite teddy bear. I’d almost let my secret slip, but I couldn’t do that. If I told Harper my fears, that I not only saw ghosts but heard people’s thoughts and did the most horrible things, she would hate me. Just like she hated Momma. I couldn’t stand it if she hated me.