Dreams of Idlewood Page 5

  Then it hit me. I knew exactly who he was. How could I have been so blind? “You’re Beatrice Overton’s son. The one who lived at the house when the crib incident occurred. I read about that online.”

  He didn’t deny it and seemed excited that I knew something about it. “Yes! That was me. I have to know that what I saw was real, Rachel. It almost drove my mother crazy. She talked about it until she died.” Big whoop. We’ve all got a sad story.

  “So from the day we met until today you used me. You used me to get in the house.” I was growing more agitated by the second.

  “No! That’s not true.” He ran his hand through his red hair and frowned at me like I was the one in the wrong. Like I’d been holding back on him. “I didn’t know you were working there, but when I met you, it was like a ray of sunshine. A sweet surprise. I like you so much, Rachel. I wanted to tell you about all this, but I was afraid you would think I was just some nut job.”

  “And now I think you’re just a jerk. I want you to go, Angus.” His shocked expression didn’t move me. “Take your innocent look and your beard and your accent and get out. I don’t like being played for a fool. Or used. And that’s what you did, no matter how you want to pretty it up.” I was so mad I could cry. In fact, I felt a fat tear slide down my face. I wiped it away furiously. “I want you to leave.” He hesitated for a moment, then grabbed his shirt and walked out the door. I slumped back on the couch as I heard the front door close.

  “That didn’t go so well. What were you thinking?”

  “Gran! You scared the crap out of me. How long have you been standing there?”

  She crunched on an apple and leaned against the doorframe, staring at me disapprovingly. “Long enough to know that you made a total ass of yourself.”

  “Gran!” I didn’t even think she knew that word, let alone used it. “What’s the matter with you? You don’t even like Angus! What was that you told me? ‘He’s going to get you in trouble.’”

  “Oh, I remember what I said. But we’re past that now. You love him, and he needs you. He needs your help. That thing is following him around, and he can’t get rid of it on his own. Eventually, it might even kill him.”

  “How can you know that?”

  She sat in the plaid rocking recliner next to me and put her apple core in the tiny trash can she kept next to her chair. “Think about it. Every time you see that thing, your boyfriend is around.”

  How does she know that? “He’s not my boyfriend, Gran.”

  “You are missing the point, Rachel-girl. Think for a minute and stop letting your pride get in the way.”

  “I’m not—it’s a matter of trust. You understand that, surely.” Even as I said it, I began running through the incidents in my mind. “Do you think somehow the Shadow—”

  “Stop saying its name. It knows its name, what we call it, and it likes to hear it. It makes it stronger. And yes, I do think somehow they are connected, but not on purpose. I mean, he didn’t invite it in, not like that. But I think that thing is his familiar. Maybe something his mother dabbled in that he didn’t know about.”

  “But I thought familiar spirits were friendly?”

  She laughed suddenly and shook her head. With a cautious eye around the room, she hopped up, walked to the mantelpiece and lit a row of dusty, pale yellow candles. She’d had those candles for years and had never lit them before. I watched silently, my nerves pricked up, and waited for her to finish whatever it was she was doing.

  “Honey, it’s been my experience that those kinds of entities are rarely friendly. They have a mind of their own and their own agendas. I’ve heard there are rare exceptions, but I think it boils down to classes of spirits. There are ghosts of the dead, troublemakers in life and afterwards, then there are the ghosts that need help. But these other entities, like the one we are talking about now, well, they are something altogether different. Strong, evil energy, concentrated, fixated on one thing or one person. Set on its destruction.”

  “That makes sense, but trying to purposefully communicate with these things, that’s not something I’d want to do.”

  “Who does? But if you can see them and they can see you, what choice do you have? You have to learn to deal with that world and keep it in proper prospective.”

  “What if I don’t want to deal with it? What if I want to go back to being a normal person?”

  She chuckled at my answer. “Normal? When was any Kowalski normal? I’m not, you’re not. As my mother told me, ‘Embrace the weirdness and be yourself.’” All of a sudden, Gran’s parakeet blasted a sharp, shrill sound, and I practically jumped off the couch.

  “Good Lord, that bird almost gave me a heart attack!”

  “Animals are sensitives too.”

  I laughed nervously and watched the candles flicker. Suddenly the front door opened, and Gran and I gasped as we heard footsteps in the foyer. I heard keys jangling and a sound like a purse being set down on the table. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized my mom was home from work.

  “I think I need a drink,” Gran announced as she leaned back against the couch cushion. “We’re in here!”

  My mom’s head appeared in the wide doorway of our front room. “Hey! What’s for dinner? I’m starving. I’m lucky I got out of there before this storm rolled in. It’s lightning over the bay; I think we’re in for a real doozy.” Her smile disappeared when she noticed the candles on the mantelpiece. “Mom, Rachel? What’s going on?”

  “Rachel’s boyfriend is being stalked by a spirit, but it’s not a ghost.”

  Mom walked into the living room and flopped in the recliner. “Oh dear. What are you going to do?”

  Gran whispered to Mom as if I couldn’t hear her, “Rachel’s mad that he didn’t tell her about this ‘thing’ sooner.”

  “Gran, please stop acting like I’m not here; like I’m a kid. I can hear you, you know.”

  “Then do what’s right.”

  “Wait a minute, Mom. What’s going on here?”

  I rolled my eyes, feeling aggravated. “Gran, I thought you were concerned about my welfare, all worried about me because of the house and the spirits. Now you want me to go engage this thing on behalf of a guy who has played games with me for six months? I don’t understand you.”

  “He makes you happy, and he’s a fellow human, and I’m willing to help you. If we can help him, we should. It’s the right thing to do. But of course it is up to you, dear. If you feel he’s done you so wrong that you can’t forgive him, as a woman I respect that. However, as your grandmother and someone who knows about these spiritual things, I hope you will reconsider. You need to learn how to use your sensitivities in a safe way.”

  “Mom, if she’s not ready, you can’t force her to engage that world. And I am sure that whatever force guides Angus’ life will find a way to lead him out of danger. There’s no need to put Rachel in danger too.”

  “Bree, you know as well as I do that if she doesn’t use her gift she’ll lose it! Rachel, just ask your mother. One day you’ll wake up and have no sensitivity at all. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, that’s right, but I have no regrets. I don’t feel guilty about it. I gave it up for a reason, and that’s my choice. Just like Rachel has to make her own choice about this. I love you, and you have been good to us, but I don’t want you to pressure her.”

  Gran let out a rough breath and her shoulders sagged. “I know, I know. I guess I’m just a nosy old lady.”

  “Mom, I never said that.”

  Gran rose from the couch and headed to the kitchen. “Whatever you decide, then. You are probably right. Well, I better get supper going. How does breakfast for dinner sound?”

  Mom spun her ponytail and made it into a bun. She leaned back in the chair with a deep sigh. “How are you, Rachel? I meant what I said. It’s up to you. She means well, but it doesn’t mean you have to do what she suggests.”

  “I’m so confused. It’s not that I’m all that afraid, except for Angus. And
he lied to me.”

  “Did he?”

  I looked at her like she was crazy. “Well, yeah.”

  “If that’s the best he can come up with, then you’ll do okay.” Then in true Mom form, she changed the subject. “Ugh! My dogs are barking. Hey Mom, maybe we should order a pizza.”

  “Yuck,” she called back, “I’ll have dinner ready soon. What about you, Rachel? You want a couple of eggs and some bacon?”

  I slid my feet back in my shoes and reached for my keys off the coffee table. “No, I’m not really hungry. I think I’ll go for a drive.”

  “Want Gran to save you some?” I tried not to look too deeply into my mother’s worried eyes. I’d just made a big deal about being a grown-up. I couldn’t crawl up in her lap now.

  “Yuck. Cold eggs and greasy bacon? No thanks. I’m not that hungry. See y’all later.” I headed to the front door and reached for my crossbody purse. When I left I had every intention of heading to my thinking spot, the swings at the park, but that’s not where I ended up.

  When I finally put the car in park, I was sitting in the driveway of Idlewood.

  Chapter Five – Carrie Jo

  Momma and I didn’t talk on the way home. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence; we both had things to think about. Like what could my father have done that was so terrible? I’d personally witnessed a number of crimes as a dream catcher, each horrible and hard to forget. I couldn’t imagine what she must be feeling. To see someone you love act like a monster. But he was a monster, wasn’t he?

  And to think my little brother was out there somewhere. Maybe. Who knew? God, that would be awful. I stole a glance at her as she stared out into the darkness. I felt bad that I could be a source of discomfort for her, but I was grateful to finally know the truth—or some part of it. With a hug and a promise to call tomorrow, I dropped her off at her apartment and made the trip the rest of the way home as quickly as possible. It was quiet this early Sunday morning. Not much traffic, and I didn’t bother to turn on the radio. The low hum of my vehicle kept me company. That and my thoughts. Yes, it was too quiet. I left my bags in the car, grabbed my purse and let myself in the back door of Our Little Home. Thankfully, Ashland had not locked the deadbolt, but I did. You could never have too much protection.

  I found my husband snoring in the big chair in the living room; Baby Boy was cuddled up in his arms. Ashland held our son like he was a football that he had to protect from all opponents. I smiled at the sweet sight. The baby’s blond hair was moist, and it stuck to his sweet face in a kind of half halo. I loved napping with him. He was so happy, his dreams were happy. I didn’t need to hear the words; I knew he loved us and knew he was loved.

  What about Chance? Does he know that somebody loves him?

  “No, Carrie Jo. Not tonight. This is life, your life. Enjoy it,” I warned myself. I touched the baby’s forehead just to make sure he didn’t have a fever. Nope. He was perfectly fine. My son sweated like crazy when he slept, no matter what time of the year it was. As quietly as possible I eased him out of Ash’s arms. I should have known he would wake up. Lately he slept pretty lightly. My husband opened his sleepy blue eyes. “Hey, babe. What are you doing here? What time is it?”

  “It’s late—or early. Close to one, I think. We decided to come home early. Surprise.” I kissed his cheek and then the baby’s.

  “Everything okay with you and Deidre?” He rubbed the sleep out of his eye and stood, stretching his back.

  “Let me put AJ down, and I’ll meet you upstairs. Unless you’d rather sleep alone here in the recliner.”

  “No way.” He grinned up at me like a lazy cat. “And I’d rather not sleep at all.”

  I smiled at him as I climbed the steps. Baby AJ didn’t make a sound or even stir. I turned on his baby monitor and softly closed his door. Funny how most nights I prayed he’d sleep all night. Tonight I kind of wished he’d wake up and smile at me. Did he think I’d abandoned him? But I wanted to spend time with Ashland too. I had so much to tell him, but right now I didn’t want to tell him anything. Except that I loved him and needed him.

  Ash met me at the door of the bedroom with a long, sexy kiss. His skin felt warm, and I got caught up in the appealing combination of soap and designer cologne. Goodness, he smelled so good! We struggled with clothing for all of fifteen seconds and spent the next little while being Carrie Jo and Ashland. We got lost in paradise, as he liked to describe it sometimes. Then he fell asleep again and I cuddled up to him, happy that I’d come home. Tomorrow I would begin my search. I would help my mother find Chance. We just had to bring our family together. At last.

  It felt like I’d just closed my eyes when they were open again. But I wasn’t Carrie Jo anymore. I whispered her name. And then I was her. I was Aubrey.

  ***

  My hands patted the wall beside me. It was cold and slick. I did not like the feel of it, but I had to find a way out of this place. I forced myself to calm my breathing. If I wasn’t careful I would make myself sick again. It wouldn’t do me any good to faint now. The creatures hiding in the dark would gnaw on my flesh and I’d be dead! I knew they were there because once in a while I could hear them moving, scratching, clawing.

  Oh God, help me!

  It was no use; he didn’t help sinners like me. I’d been calling out for help for hours it seemed, and nobody had come to my rescue. A small animal scurried past me, and I screamed again as its nails clicked on something nearby. It sounded metallic.

  “Somebody! Help me!” I yelled again. My cries bounced back in my face. Besides an angry squeak, the sound of my voice was my only answer. Feeling desperate, I fell on all fours and crawled around in the dark. Perhaps I could find a lamp or at the very least a weapon to shield myself from the rats. Suddenly I bumped my head on something. I rubbed my forehead and felt no blood. I put my hands out in front of me and let my fingers explore. It was wood—a wooden beam! It was a relief to touch something besides stone. So I was not locked in the mausoleum! I gasped in relief. All my life I’d feared being buried alive; it was the one fear I never told anyone.

  I reached up and felt around in the blackness. Not a beam—yes, a board! I pulled myself up carefully and traced it. I almost vomited when greasy fur rubbed against my arm as the rat fled past me. He’d leaped down from somewhere above. What if there were more? I refused to let go of the board. If I did I felt sure that I would never find it again. My hair had fallen in my face, I was sweating profusely now and my clothes stank like wine and mud. Yes, I remembered now. I’d been at a party! With Michael.

  I felt another board, and another, and another. This was a ladder! I climbed it until I bumped my head again. I was underground for sure, but where? Why couldn’t I remember? I searched for a handle but felt nothing. Banging on the wood with my fist, I screamed louder, “Please! Someone, help me! I’m down here!”

  No one came to rescue me. At least an hour went by, but I refused to move from my spot. I had to believe I would get out. I wrapped my arm around the beam and waited. Waited for the rats, death or whoever locked me in. Beneath me I heard the rat running about again, angry that I’d invaded his space and disrupted his solitary plundering. I wanted to weep, but I was so thirsty now that I wasn’t sure I could cry. Perching carefully on the ladder I banged on the board above me with all the strength I could muster. If only I wasn’t a wretched sinner! Then I could pray to God above to rescue me. But no way was I worthy of any rescue. I was a murderess. A liar. And that was just the beginning of the list of sins that weighed on my soul. If it hadn’t been for my letter to Tallulah, she would be alive. And little Trinket…and most certainly my Percy. I could have found another way, but I had been impatient and selfish.

  Percy! My husband! My true husband! How I miss you!

  I would never see his face again—even in the Gloryland to come. For sure I would be denied the pleasure of his presence. In heaven, all would be revealed. Percy would know my sins, and he would hate me for them. No. It was better to li
ve and avoid his scorn, if possible. Perhaps I would die down here. Certainly there was a purpose for being here. Michael had to have delivered me to this hellish place. He hated me—that I knew for sure. Michael loved no one, not even himself.

  What was that? I heard footsteps on the boards above me and the sound of a heavy door opening. I banged on the wooden board above with both fists.

  “Please! Let me out of here!” I heard the scraping of wood and saw slender beams of light filtering in now. I could see! I wanted to look around me, assess my position, but my eyes were riveted on the square of wood above me. It had begun to move. Then a thought occurred to me: what if this was Michael? What if he’d come to finish the job? He could easily bury me down here. No, God! Please! Instinctively I inched down the ladder, in case I needed to avoid a blow. As the lid opened fully, I blinked against the light, unsure of who my deliverer might be.

  “Please, don’t hurt me,” I whispered as I raised my hands to protect my face. I would beg if I had to! Whatever it took to please Michael. He enjoyed hearing me beg, but I’d done it so regularly lately that I assumed it did not thrill him like it used to. Over the past few months he’d found new ways to degrade me, but that wasn’t the worst of it. He forced me to tell him all my secrets. How Percy felt when we first lay together. How often we made love. What sins I had committed. And yes, he knew what sin I committed against Tallulah. Yes, he knew what I had done. He knew my letter almost by heart even though I could not find it. It must have burned after all.

  But Michael knew, and it was as if I’d sold my soul to Satan himself.

  “No, Michael. Please!” When the expected shower of blows did not come, I lowered my hands and glanced up to see who stood above me. A hand stretched toward me, and I blindly took it, allowing him to pull me up the ladder. When I saw the face of my rescuer, I began sobbing immediately and almost collapsed on the floor.