The Stars We Walked Upon (Seven Sisters Series Book 5) Read online

“No, I can’t,” I said sharply, suddenly afraid.

  “Say something to her, Henri.” Lenore stood beside me and faced the fireplace.

  “I didn’t know this would happen. I did not mean for this to happen. I should have stayed with you…” My voice broke, and my heart felt like a rock. “I should have stayed with you. I am sorry, Aleezabeth.” I sat on the couch and leaned across the arm, crying. Lenore stared at the corner of the room as if she could see her, and perhaps she could. I could not, but I did feel better.

  Ashland gave me a sad smile. “She’s gone. I guess that was all she needed to hear—at least for now. I am sorry, Henri. I never knew that you lost someone like that.”

  I rubbed my eyes with a tissue that Carrie Jo stuffed in my hand. I took a big swig of my hurricane and said, “It isn’t something I like to think about too much. I have a life now. I want to keep moving forward, not backward.”

  He nodded. “I am living proof that sometimes you have to look back to move forward.”

  Someone knocked on the front door, and I excused myself to answer it. I heard a pretty voice on the front porch and recognized it right away—it was Detra Ann. “Avon calling. Are y’all having a party without me?” I opened it, and she nearly fell inside laughing. It was immediately apparent that she was at least three sheets to the wind. “You know, you really would make a lousy boyfriend. You don’t call, you don’t come over. That’s pretty lousy, Henri.” She stumbled into the living room, her red high heels in her hand. “Hey, everyone. I know y’all. Except you. I don’t know you—but hey anyway! What are we celebrating? Ooh…are those hurricanes?”

  Lenore stepped backward, never taking her eyes off Detra Ann, until she left the room completely.

  “Was it something I said?”

  “No, that’s just Lenore. I don’t think you need any hurricanes, Detra Ann. How about some coffee?”

  “Whatever you say, doctor.” She kissed me on the cheek. I could smell bourbon—it must have been tonight’s choice at the bar. “Call me doc-tor love…” she sang off-key and loudly.

  “Where have you been tonight, Detra Ann?” I heard Ashland ask as I made a quick pot of coffee.

  “Dancing, drinking and saying goodbye to Mobile. I am going to miss this place and all of you. I love y’all, but I have to go.” I could hear the stress in her voice now. “I can’t stay here, or something bad will happen. I can feel it. You wouldn’t understand. I know I should have told you sooner, but my heart couldn’t handle it. Yep, my heart…I love you all.” Then she began to sing again, “I can feel your heart beat—the heart of love…. Hey! Wasn’t that one of your favorite songs, Carrie Jo? That guy William could sing—the band covered all his songs. But don’t tell Ashland—I don’t think he’d like hearing that too much.” I cringed as she rambled on, oblivious to the fact that Ashland was sitting right there. “Hey, where did that girl go? Is that the mysterious cousin—is that your cousin, Henri? I don’t think she likes me too much.”

  “Do you want cream and sugar?” I called to her from the kitchen.

  “I want bourbon!”

  “You aren’t getting any,” I replied, shaking my head. At least now I didn’t have to explain her drinking problem to Carrie Jo and Ashland. Lenore was right, I sure could pick them. But I couldn’t help loving Detra Ann. I poured some of the hot chicory coffee in a stoneware mug, walked into the living room and handed it to her. She thanked me with a pout.

  “Ow, that’s hot.”

  Carrie Jo was staring at Ashland. I looked too and saw his face was as white as a sheet. He stared at the front door, and my arms began to feel cold and clammy.

  “What is it, Ash?” she whispered.

  “I am not sure, but come get behind me. The whole doorway is full of blackness—it’s crawling all over the doorframe. Can anyone else see it?”

  We all looked, except Detra Ann, who was slow to comprehend the increasing danger. She just stared at us. “What?”

  “I can’t see it, but I can feel something,” I confessed. I sat next to Detra Ann and put my arm around her protectively. Lenore was long gone. Yeah, battling the supernatural. Right. More like running from it.

  “Carrie Jo, Ashland is right. You need to get behind him—better still, go down the hall.” Suddenly frightened, Carrie Jo got to her feet in a flash and would have pulled Detra Ann with her, but I stopped her. “No, leave her with us. We can’t risk it following her. We’ll stay with her. You go!”

  I heard Lenore whisper to her, and Carrie Jo disappeared.

  Ashland spoke in a low voice. “That’s nothing I have ever seen before, Henri. It’s a shape now and he’s tall, taller than anyone I have ever known and completely inky black. Oh my God! Do you feel that? It’s like all the oxygen just left the room. I think Lenore is right—this is Death we are dealing with.”

  Detra Ann sobered in an instant. She put down the cup of coffee and clung to me.

  “You feel it too? I’m not crazy then?”

  “No, you’re not. What do we do, Henri? Should I say something?”

  “Say nothing,” I whispered fiercely. “Be still and pray, both of you. Close your eyes and pray right now!” We did just that. Detra Ann whispered some words, Ashland said the Lord’s Prayer aloud, and I poured out my heart to heaven. “God please, protect the woman I love and my friends. She cannot leave yet. Her time is not up. Please, if you have to take someone, take me.” My eyes wanted to open, and it was a struggle to keep them closed, but I kept praying, probably louder than I intended. Soon the room felt different. The ominous presence vanished, and the air felt alive again. One by one we opened our eyes. Ashland told us the shape had disappeared. With shaking hands, Detra Ann picked up her coffee. When she realized her hands were too shaky to do her any good, she set it back down on the table.

  “It doesn’t matter where I go, does it? It is going to follow me. It wants me, I know it. Am I going to die, Henri?”

  “We are going to fight, Detra Ann. You won’t die—I will be with you the whole time. I swear.”

  “Can I stay with you?”

  “Of course you can.” She put her arms around me, and for the first time ever I kissed her. A real kiss, not a friendly, can-I-be-your-pal kiss. She didn’t run away or laugh in my face. She kissed me back. I had never been so terrified and so happy in such a short space of time.

  That was the moment Lenore chose to step out of the hallway. “Well if she’s staying here, I’m leaving. I can’t stay with a ghost.”

  “That’s fine with me, Lenore. I didn’t ask you to move in.”

  Detra Ann laughed. “I am not a ghost. I was just drunk, that’s all. I am sorry you had to see me like that.”

  “It ain’t the booze, sister—it’s the specter following you around. He ain’t fixin’ to grab me. No way, no how.” She crossed her arms stubbornly and stared at me with a perfectly arched eyebrow.

  Carrie Jo said sweetly, “Lenore, you can stay with Ashland and me. We have a guest room. I’d like to have you around—maybe you can help us learn what we need to know.” I could almost hear her say, “And Henri and Detra Ann could have some time to catch up.” She smiled at Ashland, who nodded in agreement.

  “Okay, then. Let me get my stuff. Be right back.” Lenore left only to return a minute later. “This is it. I don’t have much.”

  “That’s great. Well, thank you for the drinks, Henri. I think we’ll be going home now. Let’s talk in the morning. We have to come up with some sort of plan.”

  Lenore waited on the porch, still refusing to stay in the room with Detra Ann. I hoped she behaved herself during her stay with the Stuarts. With Lenore, anything was possible. And I hadn’t forgotten her mysterious phone call.

  I found one…

  Chapter Eleven—Carrie Jo

  By the time we made it home I realized how impulsive I had been inviting a complete stranger into our home. But I soothed my nervousness by reminding myself that it was for Henri and Detra Ann. I had privately been rooting fo
r them, and it just made sense to see them get together now. Nobody could ever take Terrence Dale’s place, but I couldn’t help but believe he would want Detra Ann to be happy. Hopefully Ashland agreed with me; he had to see how good she and Henri could be for one another.

  Lenore didn’t talk on the drive back to our home. I was dying to ask Ashland about what he saw at Henri’s, but I wasn’t in the mood to hear Lenore declare Detra Ann a ghost again. When we pulled into the driveway, Lenore didn’t move right away. I got out of the car and waited on her. “Are you coming, Lenore?”

  She was watching the house, her penetrating eyes examining the exterior for God only knew what. Slowly she opened the car door and stepped outside clutching her two Wal-Mart bags that overflowed with her colorful wardrobe. I sighed and walked up the sidewalk. She’d either come inside or she wouldn’t. Ashland opened the door and gave me an amused look. “I know, I know,” I whispered.

  Eventually she did come in and was the perfect houseguest. I showed her the guest room, guest bathroom and kitchen, telling her to grab something to eat if she got hungry. “What are your plans tomorrow? Are you working somewhere? Do you need a lift?”

  “No. I have applications out, but nobody has called me yet. I don’t suppose you need a housekeeper or something?”

  “No. We have a housekeeper. You will probably meet her tomorrow. Her name is Doreen, and she makes an awesome…well, everything. But if you’re interested in that type of work, she might be able to tell you where to go. I bet with the approaching Mardi Gras festivities you could find a job easily.”

  “That might work,” she said, looking hopeful.

  “I am going to the office in the morning, but you tell Doreen what you’re looking for. If she can’t help you, we’ll look somewhere else.”

  Her face softened, and she smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  “Good night, Lenore.”

  “Good night.”

  I closed the door and went upstairs to pass out. It didn’t happen—Ashland was keyed up and ready to talk about what he’d seen. In fact, he wanted to tell me about everything he’d seen. If Lenore helped no one else, she had helped Ash. Sure, she was quirky, but underneath I could tell she had true empathy for people. Plus, she claimed to know a great deal about the supernatural world, and Henri didn’t dispute her knowledge. If anyone knew the truth about her, it would have been him.

  She seemed like a lost child, wandering through the world depending on the kindness of strangers. She was friendly to everyone…except Detra Ann. I wondered why that was. Perhaps she was jealous of Henri’s blooming relationship, or maybe she opposed the idea of her cousin involved with someone ten years younger—or someone white.

  Ashland continued talking, and I nodded attentively. He described the ghost man he saw in the car, the many ghosts in the windows of the houses along Conception Street, even the creepy one he used to see regularly when his mother took him to Sunday brunch at the Admiral Semmes Hotel. I listened patiently, pretending that I wasn’t creeped out. The poor guy. I couldn’t imagine seeing stuff like that all the time and then forcing myself to forget it just to keep my sanity.

  I stifled a yawn. I seemed to have no energy today. Boy, missing those pre-natal vitamins even for a day made a difference. I undressed as he talked and finally slid on his old football jersey. I had silk nightgowns aplenty but couldn’t resist sleeping in oversize shirts—especially ones that smelled like Ashland’s expensive cologne.

  “That’s not fair.”

  I folded back the coverlet and slid under the sheets. “What’s not fair?”

  “You…undressing right now.”

  I rubbed scented lotion on my hands and feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He was undressing too and was under the sheets with me in a few seconds. “I love you, Carrie Jo Stuart. I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.”

  “That’s a good thing, ’cause I feel the same way.”

  “Say it, then.”

  I kissed his perfect lips and whispered, “I love you, Ashland Stuart.”

  For the next hour, we lost ourselves in one another, totally uncaring that someone else was in the house. Afterwards, Ashland dozed off to sleep, but our lovemaking had the opposite effect on me tonight—I couldn’t close my eyes. I decided a nice long shower and maybe then a snack would help settle me down. If the butterflies in my stomach were any indication, the baby approved of that idea. After drying off and pulling my hair on top of my head in a messy bun, I padded down the stairs to see what treats Doreen had left me. I was happy to see that she left me a container of mandarin orange fruit salad topped with sweetened pecans. It may not have been comfort food for some folks, but ever since I got pregnant I couldn’t get enough of the citrus fruit. Taking the whole container, a spoon and a bottle of water, I slipped into my office and quietly closed the door behind me.

  After a few spoonfuls of the tasty treat, I flipped on my laptop in hopes of seeing an email from Desmond Taylor. Nope, nothing yet. I deleted a bunch of junk mail until just the important stuff was left. Digging into the fruit salad, I reread the email from the Reeds. Of course I wasn’t going to go to Mia’s funeral, but it wouldn’t do any good to be mean about it. I felt sorry for Alice and Myron, even though they had considered suing Ashland and me. I wrote them back thanking them for the honor but declining their invitation without giving them a specific reason why. That would have to do. I hit send with a sigh and deleted their original email. That was easier than I’d thought it would be. I hoped that would be the end of the whole sad situation.

  Goodbye, Mia.

  On a whim, I searched for Father Portier and the Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception. An image of the friendly white-haired priest appeared. It was the picture of an oil painting—a commemorative portrait from 1829 marking Portier’s appointment as the first bishop of Mobile. I could hardly believe it. I had a full-on conversation with a ghost, and I hadn’t been asleep. I saved the photo and dug deeper into the history of the cathedral. How was it that I had walked through the gate and ended up in the church three blocks over unless I somehow stumbled into some sort of supernatural portal? Was there such a thing? It had been a common practice in the 1700s and 1800s to build churches atop old religious centers. It was actually a common way to show the natives who the new boss was. I continued to read until my stomach was full and my eyes began to glaze.

  That’s enough. I need to rest.

  I closed the laptop, leaned back in my chair and spun around to enjoy the view of the moonlight bouncing around the backyard. Our little house was quiet except for the occasional sounds of a beam creaking. That sort of thing was to be expected in a home this old. But then I heard another sound, someone talking. It was quiet but distinct. As silently as possible, I went to my door and opened it. Lenore was talking to someone, and from the tone of her voice she was frantic.

  “No, I can’t do that. You don’t understand…I don’t know what you mean….”

  I knew it was an invasion of her privacy, but I crept into the hallway and stood outside her door. If Lenore was going to do something crazy in my house, I wanted to know about it. I held my breath and took a peek. She had the house phone up to her ear and was sitting on the bed in her pajamas. Her hair looked wild and unbrushed, as if she’d just woken up.

  “Why are you asking me to do this? You know I love you…”

  Hearing her move around the room, I leaned flush against the wall. That’s enough of that, Carrie Jo. Now go to bed and quit snooping.

  I sprinted down the hall in my sock feet and slid through the open door of my office. I closed the container of fruit salad and put the lid back on my water. I paused to slow my pounding heartbeat.

  Lenore’s whispering continued, and my hand went protectively to my stomach. I couldn’t let it go. I had to know what was going on. Who was she talking to at this time of night, and why was she so upset? My hand rested on the old-fashioned p
rincess phone on my desk. Should I? What if she was in danger? It sounded like someone was trying to convince her to do something she did not want to do. As quietly as I could, I picked up the phone just to make sure Lenore was okay.

  “I’m not ready…I can’t do it…yes…I understand. I know what this means. This is forever, ain’t it?”

  There was nobody there—just Lenore speaking into the phone, the dial tone buzzing in the background. With a lump in my throat I put the phone down, left the food on my desk and slinked out of the room. All I wanted to do now was brush my teeth, go to bed and cuddle as closely to Ashland as I could.

  This couldn’t be good.

  Chapter Twelve—Delilah

  As the weeks flew by, the excitement in Mobile grew almost to fever pitch. The city’s hotels were filling up as dignitaries and curious visitors from the surrounding counties descended on the downtown area. Lampposts were festooned with purple and gold ribbon, but the city held back a bit on some of the festivities, remembering to honor their war dead with the appropriate decorum. The lost “sons of the south” would be honored during the first parade with an Ash Processional. Relatives of the lost would march in silence dressed in black and doused in ashes, and Maundy and I had spent all morning sewing black ribbons to sell to the supporters. According to Honoree Daughtry, the wife of the commissioner responsible for this year’s Mardi Gras activities, this event was expected to help the city begin to “heal from its wounds.” I thought the whole thing was morbid, but it kept my hands busy and my mind off my situation.

  Parade watchers were already lining the streets and covered the walkways like flies on a watermelon carcass prepared to fully enjoy Mobile’s Mardi Gras opening spectacle. We quickly sold our baskets of ribbons, and I took the empty containers back to the shop while Maundy stayed behind to watch.

  From what she told me, festivities like the debutante auction and the Night of Masks ball were quite decadent. I wondered what the austere Miss Claudette Page would think about those. I was certain that she would be staging a rally against this sort of revelry, but in fact, Miss Page was a former Boeuf Gras Society queen. Although that mystical organization had dissolved right before the Civil War, Claudette continued to work on behalf of many such organizations. To my disappointment, that had been the most scandalous tidbit I had learned about my estranged aunt thus far. As my court date approached, I began to see my chances of persuading Miss Page to acquiesce to my father’s will all but disappear. Perhaps Maundy’s idea of gathering information on her had been a waste of my time, just a ruse to hire a decent dressmaker. Thus far, Maundy had gotten much more information from me than I had from her. She pressed me all the time about Adam, leaving me with no doubt that she had was interested in him.