A Spirited Gift (15 page)

“She is not,” I corrected him when we were out of earshot. “Not that you'd know the difference.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Because you've probably never known anyone like Nancy.” I waved to Trudy as she worked on Mrs. Marsh's hair at her salon, still without power. “Women are different now. I don't expect you to understand that, since you're a pirate and all.”

“Are you saying I'm daft or addlepated? Mind your words, girl!”

“Or what? You'll jump back into your picture frame?”

He laughed—a loud, arrogant kind of laughter like you'd expect from a big pirate. “Oh, I can do much more than
that
. You see that window over there? The one ye were so happy yesterday that it had escaped the storm?”

Before I could respond, he took a deep breath and blew hard on the glass. It didn't break but it splintered into a thousand lines.

“I can't believe you did that!” I stormed at him. “Now I'll have to get it replaced. What was the thinking behind that?”

“Eh? I don't understand what you mean. My own kin—not able to speak the King's English.”

I didn't bother with a reply. For one thing, August Grandin walked by with a nod of his head, his Meerschaum pipe in his teeth. The smoke blew in my face as he passed—a sweet smell of fruit-scented tobacco.

“Now that's a man.” Rafe followed August toward the Duck General Store. I took the opportunity to hide in Missing Pieces. It would be nice if he couldn't find me. But it didn't seem to work that way.

If I had to have a ghost attached to me, why wasn't it one of our stalwart Duck female role models?

I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath, relieved to be alone.

“I didn't mean to scare you,” a familiar voice said. “I wanted to thank you for your help yesterday.”

I wasn't alone after all. My father had finally come calling.

Chapter 17

“Your name is Dae O'Donnell, right?” he asked with a little smile playing across his lips. He needed a shave, and there were scratches on his cheeks and forehead. “Mayor of Duck!”

“Yes.” I wondered if he still recognized the name. “Shouldn't you be at the hospital?”

“Nah. They released me when they found out I didn't have health insurance. Besides, they needed the bed.”

“Well, maybe you should be at home then. I could drive you, if you need a ride.” My heart was hammering in my chest. Why was I so nervous? After all, he was my father, though he didn't know it.

“Trying to get rid of me?” He got up from the burgundy brocade sofa and came closer. “I bet your mom and your grandpa have been telling you all kinds of bad stuff about me.”

I could honestly say neither one of them had mentioned him—at least not until I asked. “No. Not really. Would you like some tea?”

“Nothing stronger?”

“No. Sorry. I have some strong tea—that's about it.”

“That's okay.” He stopped at the counter that I'd put between him and me. “You know, I recognized you yesterday at the accident. You come into the Sailor's Dream once in a while and order rum and Coke, right?”

“Yep. That's me.” I wished I could think of something fascinating to say to him. But glib conversation was difficult for me with him.

“That's why I asked about you. You look just like your mom. How is she, by the way? Happy with Mr. Right?” He looked up at me with a cunning knowing in his blue eyes. “I guess since your name is O'Donnell, Mr. Right either never came along or left real sudden.”

I didn't know how to answer that. I hadn't anticipated having a conversation with him like this. He thought he knew who I was—the mayor of Duck and his old flame's daughter. But he hadn't guessed that I was his daughter. I felt awkward and even more nervous. “I'd like some tea.” I bustled to the cabinet and took out the Sterno and folding stove I kept for emergencies. After lighting it, I put some water in the kettle and put it on the stove. “Are you sure I can't get some for you?”

“No, thanks. I'm not that thirsty.” He started walking around looking at my treasures. He picked up the flintlock pistol that had belonged to pirate Stede Bonnett, a summer find at the Charleston Market.

It had engraved silver mounts, gold leaf, silver wire inlays and a carved stock. The French barrel had a carved relief of St. George slaying the dragon. It wasn't fully functional. There was no fly in the tumbler and no bridle in the lock. That meant it wouldn't fire properly. It was a special piece—one that would net enough to tide me over for a long winter—but only to the right person.

“So you own this place?” He kept talking. Maybe he was nervous too. “And you're the mayor and you work as a firefighter or something?”

The dealer who sold the pistol to me thought it was junk—but then he couldn't touch it and find out where it came from like I could. I'd struggled for a while, wondering if that was cheating, until I thought about all the fake treasures I'd paid too much for. Treasure hunting was up and down.

“I was just helping out,” I told him. “I'm not an official volunteer or anything.”

“This is a nice place.” He came back and sat down. “You're kind of young to own something like this, aren't you? Does your mom help out?”

“My mom is dead.” There—it was out. The teakettle whistled, and I poured the hot water over the blackberry tea bag in the cup. “She's been dead a long time.”

“Sorry. I didn't know.”

“How could you? Why would you?”

He shrugged. “I guess she didn't mention me then. We dated for a while. It was a long time ago. We were both just kids. Did she marry someone?”

“No.” Despite my earlier resolution to confront him, I wasn't sure how far I wanted this conversation to go. It was crossing over into part of my life that I wasn't comfortable sharing with him yet. I didn't even want to think what Gramps would say if he knew Danny Evans was having a casual conversation with me about Mom in Missing Pieces.

“I'm sorry.” He backed down. “I don't know you well enough to ask you this kind of stuff, I guess. You're just a lot like Jean. She was easy to talk to.”

“Sure.” I added some honey to the tea but didn't sit down to drink it.

“Anyway.” He got to his feet and hooked his fingers in the pockets of his well-worn jeans. “I just came by to say thanks. And, I admit I was a little curious about you. I'll see you around, Dae. Next time, the rum and Coke is on me.”

I realized after he was gone that I'd been holding my breath, hoping he wouldn't guess the truth. The connection was there—he couldn't see it yet. How was I going to feel about it when he could?

I took my tea and sank gratefully down on my sofa—only to jump up an instant later, emptying my cup as I sat on my ghost pirate's lap.

He winked and grinned at me, gold tooth showing on the right side of his mouth. “Aw, we ain't that close related, dearie. The ladies favored me when I was alive. No reason we couldn't have a little fun, even though you're a mite scrawny for my taste.”

“Don't even go there!” I warned, not sure what I could do to prevent it, since I couldn't stop him from being there at all. “Never mind. We're going next door. Shayla has to know some way to get rid of you.”

“Look, girl, there's a very easy answer to you getting rid of me. You're the last of my line—far as I can tell. I need yer help with the kind of thing only a relation can do. You do that, and I'm gone.
Poof!
Not like I want to be half alive, half in the grave in this foul time. The air stinks like bilge water, and the women have no rounding to them. What's there to make a man feel welcome here?”

The shop door flew open and Shayla stalked inside without bothering to close the door behind her. “I knew it! I
knew
I sensed a presence here somewhere. Dae, what have you taken up with? Haven't I warned you about messing around with things you don't understand?”

Chapter 18

“Me?” I put down my teacup. “What are you talking about? He was in one of those spirit balls that came from the séance. In case you didn't notice—he's not my mother.”

Shayla frowned, brows knitting over her dramatically made-up dark eyes. “I don't know how that's possible. I was
very
specific. Not just any spirit could come through like that.”

“He says we're related through my mother's side of the family.”

“Well, of course! That makes perfect sense.”

“I'm glad you think so. But you haven't heard the best of it yet. Shayla Lily, spiritual advisor—meet Rafe Masterson, hanged pirate who cursed Duck.”

“That's an old wives' tale,” Rafe objected.

“A pirate?” Shayla giggled and pranced around like a teenager. “How exciting!”

“Shayla—”

“Pleasure to meet you, beautiful lady.” Rafe sketched an elegant bow to her. “Is that a taste of the old spirits, from the islands, I feel about you? I had a friend—a very
good
friend—from Barbados who knew the spirits well. She was sweet and dark as good rum, like you, wench. A lovely prize for the taking.”

I was getting impatient with this mutual admiration society. “All of this is very nice, but can we get rid of him or not?”

“He's amazing,” Shayla said. “I don't know why you wouldn't want to keep him. He could help you identify old stuff that you find.”

“He's not a puppy,” I reminded her, even though I was glad she was able to see and hear him too. “And I don't want him hanging around.”

Shayla walked around him with her eyes closed and presumably her mojo working. “I'm not sure,” she said finally. “We can try. But blood ties are strong.”

“Now wait a minute,” Rafe interrupted. “I have a valid reason for being here. This isn't a lark for me, ladies. I need a relation to help me clear my name.”

“Clear your name?” I laughed. “Clear it of what? Everyone knows you did terrible things. You were hanged as a pirate because of them.”

“I was,” he agreed. “But I wasn't a pirate when that unfortunate event took place. And I had papers of pardon from the governor himself.”

I thought about what Mark Samson had said about Rafe. Maybe he was right. But having a large pirate ghost tag along with me everywhere I went wasn't exactly my idea of a good time. There had to be another way.

“Let's say you're telling the truth,” I said. “How about you go back to your grave and I look into it for you.”

“Why would I take yer word for what you'll do when you are so eager to get rid of me? I wasn't born yesterday.”

“Because otherwise Shayla will make you go away for good and you might never get your name cleared.” Although what difference that would make after all these years was beyond me. “At least if I promise to investigate the history of your death, you have a shot.”

He stroked his chin. “I don't think so. Not that I want to be here, but this is important to me. And your friend here doesn't seem too sure she can get rid of me at all. Besides, I can help you find who murdered the woman at the old house. Ye need me too, girl.”

“We don't know yet if she was murdered at all,” I told him. “But thanks for the offer.”

“I know,” he assured me. “I can smell it a league away.”

“I thought you said that was an accident, Dae?” Shayla asked.

“It probably
was
an accident. She shouldn't have been out there during the storm.”

“An accident,” Rafe scoffed. “If it was an accident, then I don't know gold from dross.”