Black Opal (4 page)

“Insecure? Is that how you see me?” My blood boiled at his condescension, even though I knew he was right. “Fuck this. I’m sorry I bothered.” I started walking.

“That’s it, babe, keep walking,” he called after me. “Every time something catches you off guard, you pitch a fit and walk away. Look how much good it does you.”

The storm of nerves tingling in my stomach and face intensified, and I whipped around. “That is not true. Because if it were, I’d have walked away from you and your moods a dozen times.”

“Like it’s pleasant to deal with thirty years of baggage that comes out as paranoia and wanting to hurt people before they hurt you.” Dean’s eyes narrowed into mean slits. He was done trying to cajole me. Well, I was done, too.

“And you never do shit like that.” I remembered the first few conversations we had after he learned I communicated with the dead. He treated me like a leper.

“Let’s just do this some other time.” He closed his eyes. “Please?”

“Fine. I’ll see you back in Texas.” I started the walk back to my car, the miserable rain slapping against me and my heart aching.

Dean, obviously as angry as I was, applauded me as I walked. I flipped him the one-fingered salute over my shoulder.

“Shit,” he said. “Peri, wait. Just wait.”

I kept walking.

###

Dean hurried after me
,
grunting as the uneven ground took its toll on an old shooting injury he’d gotten in the line of duty. Had I not been angry, I’d have slowed down for him. But his words hit me where it hurt. I walked to my car as fast as my short legs would go, unlocked it and got in. Dean took the last few steps running and stood in the open door.

“Don’t leave like this.” His eyes, the windows of his soul, pleaded. I was too angry at him for calling me on my insecurity to show him any mercy. I started the car.

“If you don’t move, I’m going to put this car in reverse and drag you down the driveway.”

I saw the hurt and anger ignite in Dean’s eyes. An answering ache throbbed in my chest. I didn’t want to leave things right here, but my pride was too big. I let off the brake, and the car eased backward. Dean jumped out of the way.

I turned the car around and headed back the way I came. A glance in my rearview mirror showed me Dean looking lost and bewildered. A tall, elegant figure stood in the open front door. The cloud of dark hair told me it was Lisette.
That bitch can just have him.

The car picked up speed as I coasted down the driveway. I tapped the brake and got no response. I hit the brake pedal harder. The car didn’t even slow. Panic squeezed my chest and clawed its way up my throat. My mind kicked into warp speed, scrambling over the options.

I couldn’t make the hairpin turn onto the road. I’d hit the levee separating the river from the road. The impact might kill me. I stomped the brake pedal again. It wouldn’t do me any good. I knew that. But I had to try it. I glanced down at my feet to make sure nothing obstructed the brake pedal. It was clear.

When I straightened, a figure stood in my path. My endorphin soaked mind ratcheted up the level of horror coursing through me. Then I recognized the girl from the road, the same one I saw in the house.
The ghost.
My car barreled straight at her. I had only seconds to act. Dead or not, I couldn’t just hit her. Without further consideration, I drove my car into a drainage ditch.

My car, the only thing I had left of my father, hit the mud with a heartbreaking splat and stalled. I flew forward and smacked my head on the driver side window. The pain stunned me, but my worries centered more on the car than on my own health. I loved this car. It made me feel like I had some connection to my dead father, even though I didn’t.

Splashing sounds jerked me out of my pity party. I turned to see Dean scrambling down the banks of the ditch, using roots to control his descent. He wiped the mud off my window and tapped on it. I rolled it down as though we were in a parking lot somewhere.

“Are you okay? Is anything hurt? Can you breathe?” When I said nothing, he grabbed my shoulder and gave me a hard shake. “Peri? Can you talk?”

“I can talk. I was just waiting for you to finish.”

Dean exhaled hard through his nostrils. He muttered under his breath but kept it loud enough for me to hear. “I don’t understand why you have to be such a smartass.”

I don’t either. It just makes things worse.
Instead of saying that I turned away from him.

“You all right down there?” The creepy guy from the barn and another guy I recognized as one of the men working on the lawn peered into the ditch.

“I don’t think she’s hurt,” Dean said.

“No, I’m not hurt,” I said and climbed out of the car. The standing water covered my cheap canvas shoes, and I started shivering. I looked around for the ghost. She made me crash because she wanted me here. I didn’t have to be a genius to know that. Sooner than later, she’d let me know what she wanted. I wasn’t looking forward to it. Dean accepted me seeing ghosts, knew it was real, but it bugged him. This would only complicate things between us more.

Another figure leaned over the edge of the ditch and looked at me. Lisette. Her dark eyes danced. The bitch was enjoying this.

4

Dean called a tow truck. The driver, who looked like a cross between a string bean and a ferret, only with grease, said, “Got three more cars before you, baby. Might get to it tomorrow. Mebbe the day after that, though.”

“Are there any hotels near here or are they all in Baton Rouge?” I hoped not. Baton Rouge was forty minutes back the way I came. With Dean and I arguing, he might not give me a ride. And how would I get back here to get my car?

“You’re not staying at a hotel.” Julienne crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll be insulted if you don’t stay in my home.”

What could I say? No way I’d admit Dean and I were engaged in battle, not with smug-faced Lisette standing right there. Dean’s mother assigned Madeleine to settle me in as a guest. That’s how I found myself following the younger woman all over the huge house while she gathered towels from a well-stocked linen closet. She kept up a running chatter.

“Mom said to put you in the children’s wing.” She spoke over her shoulder, smiling. Dean resembled his mother, but Madeleine’s sexy lips were the only feature she shared with them. She wore her wavy black hair long with auburn highlights. Her round face and gray eyes glowed with mischief. Sometime since I last saw her, she’d showered and changed into jeans and a sleeveless blouse showing off her muscled arms. “That’s where Dean’s and my rooms are. We can all hang out after supper.”

Great. Now I’d have to sleep within fifty feet of him.
No doubt he’d want to argue some more before the night was over.

“Where does Lisette stay?” I tried to keep any venom out of my voice, but I knew I didn’t fool Madeleine. She let out a cute, girlish giggle, reminding me of my best friend Hannah Kessler.

“Lisette goes home before dinner, thank God. But now that you’re here, I don’t know. She might want to stay.” She made a sick face. I laughed in spite of myself.

We stopped in front of a closed door. Madeleine reached out for the doorknob but hesitated. She smiled apologetically at me and tried again, this time pushing the door open. Light flooded from the room’s open blinds and spotlighted a painting on the hallway wall. Recognizing the painting’s subject as the same girl I saw on the road, the one who caused me to wreck my wonderful car, I bit back a gasp.
So she belonged at this house?

“Who is—” I began.

“Lisette is having—” Madeleine began at the same time.

“You first.” We said together and laughed.

“No, really, you first,” I said. “I want to hear what you have to say about Lisette. Your mom said she was raised here, but it’s uncomfortable as hell.”

“I bet!” Madeleine motioned me into the room. “Mom’s totally hoodwinked by her, but she’s a mean bitch. Don’t let her catch you off guard. I was so excited when Dean said he was seeing someone from Gaslight City. I hoped he had moved on.”

“So spill,” I said. “What’s her story?”

“Well, I don’t remember her living here. By the time I got old enough to be able to remember, she and Dean were already married,” Madeleine said. “She was an awful sister-in-law. She’d put on such a show when people could see her and just ignore me the rest of the time. Once, she forgot me at the Mall of Louisiana in Baton Rouge.”

I gaped at her, imagining the terror she must have felt.

“Supposedly, she’s come home to visit her folks because her husband is in France on business,” she continued in my silence. “After Daddy got hurt and she found out Dean was coming in, she’s been over here as much as she can manage. She probably wants to get back together with him.” She stopped speaking and walked to the open doorway and pulled the door shut. “I overheard Daddy telling Mom her husband is being indicted for embezzling a bunch of money and is hiding in France.”

Wow. Dean’s family life competed with any soap opera I’d ever watched. Maybe his reasons for not introducing me had something to do with all the drama. Knowing this beautifully manicured house and its inhabitants were far from perfect made me less angry at Dean.
Maybe I need to give him a break.

For the first time, I looked around the room. The bed featured a heavy curving brass frame, an antique by the looks of it, and a delicate eyelet comforter. A vanity table with a scalloped mirror sat against the wall opposite the two huge windows facing the lawn. I walked to the window and looked out on the grounds.

From the second floor window, the workers cleaning up the mess left by the flood looked far removed from the world inside this house. I imagined how many girls and women must have looked out this very window. Had they all been born into this family? Or had some of them been like me, an outsider who wasn’t sure she belonged?

A group of workers moved on to another pile of rubbish and cleared my line of sight. The ghost girl stood looking up at the window. A cold bolt of fear worked its way through me. I had to know who she was so I could figure out how to get her to leave me alone. With all the normal couple issues between Dean and me, a close encounter of the ghost kind would only worsen the tension.

“Madeleine, the girl in the painting, the one in the hall, who is that?”

Madeleine sighed and clasped her hands in front of her. “That’s my sister, Shayne. This is her room.”

I forced a smile, ignoring my tight throat and thundering pulse. “I thought so.”

“Mom just had the room redone to use as a guest room. Before that, well, it was locked all my life.”

Madeleine had just turned twenty-one. So whatever happened to Shayne happened a very long time ago.

“Where is Shayne now?”

Madeleine jumped and glanced around the room, as though afraid she might be overheard even with the door closed. When she spoke, she did so in a loud whisper. “She disappeared before I was even born. They never figured out what became of her.”

From the look of it, Shayne didn’t meet a peaceful or an easy end. Dread knotted painful lumps in my tense muscles. I so didn’t want to get in the middle of this family’s drama. I ran my hand over the sheer lace curtains. Something clanked to the floor, and I jumped away, wondering what I’d broken, cheeks already flaming.

Madeline must’ve thought I broke something, too. She rushed over and stared at the object on the floor. I saw nothing more than a jumbled mess of silver with a black stone connected to it. Thinking it was a fancy pull for the blinds, I scooped it up, intent on fixing my mess. The chain spread out, and I realized I held a piece of jewelry.

The delicate chain was made up of elongated ovals, each one containing the same delicate filigree pattern. Rather than feeling cool in my hand, it felt pleasantly warm as though alive. A large, black stone pendant hung from the necklace. It reflected a kaleidoscope of color, and the colors seemed to dance when I touched the stone.

“What on earth is that thing doing up here?” Madeline wrinkled her nose and held out her hand for the piece of jewelry. Though it wasn’t mine, I hated to give it up. Holding it, touching it, felt good. Reluctantly, I handed it to her. She tucked it into her jeans pocket. “This is Mom’s. I can’t imagine how it got up here. It belonged to my great-grandmother. She was a flapper in the jazz era.” We exchanged smiles, and she motioned me to follow her, pacing her steps with mine as the hallway floorboards creaked beneath our feet. “I know old stuff like this is all the rage, but just between you and me, this thing’s gaudy.”

I disagreed. It was beautiful. I made a noncommittal sound.

“Plus, you know what I heard?” She leaned close, grabbing my arm for emphasis. “I heard the lady who owned it was a
witch
.”

Oh great
. What else could happen to make this trip worse? Turned out, I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

###

Madeleine returned the necklace to Julienne, who nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw it. She gave me the oddest look, one which made me squirm. I asked Madeleine to take me to where Dean was. He needed to know the part Shayne’s ghost played in me staying. Besides, guilt over my bad behavior had choked out my anger. Dean’s lie of omission sucked, but so did the way I flew off the handle.

We found him helping the other workers clear debris. Poor Madeleine fled back to house, swatting at mosquitoes. I picked up a shovel and worked alongside him, trying to think of the right way to start a conversation. Other than a sharp nod, he didn’t acknowledge me, which meant he’d just as soon I disappear.

“Who’s this, Dean-o?” The speaker had a heavier build than Dean but wasn’t any taller. His wide shoulders gave way to thick arms looking like they could support the weight of the world. Where Dean resembled his mother, this man resembled Madeleine with his round face and wavy black hair. I could only guess this was another sibling I’d never heard of.

Dean’s jaw clenched either at the nickname or at having to mess with me so soon after our argument. He jammed his shovel into a soggy pile of branches and leaves and turned to the larger man. “Dino is the name of Fred Flintstone’s pet dinosaur. How many times have I asked you not to call me that?”