Everlastin' Book 1 (3 page)

“This place is absolutely
incredible,” Beth said breathlessly.

A shadow seemed to pass
across Carlene’s face, her eyes devoid of life. She offered Beth a
strained smile and said, “Wait until you see the
inside.”

Carlene briskly walked to a
set of dark wood double doors that fronted a glass greenhouse. “All
the furnishings are original. Everything remains as the builder
left it in the mid eighteen-hundreds.”

“I think I'm in love,” Beth
sighed, then felt a breath lodge in her throat as she caught
Carlene pass her a furtive, brooding look. Beth was speared by a
feeling that something was wrong, that she was intruding, and about
to venture into something almost...
sinister.

She gave herself a shake and
mutely scolded herself for letting her fatigue fire-up her
imagination.

Jet lag.

She was finally reunited
with her best friend. And she was in Scotland, of all
places!

Yes, she was in love. In
love with life.

Beth followed Carlene
through the small greenhouse of various houseplants, to another
double door of bird's eye maple. A breath spilled past her lips
upon entering an elongated hall.

A setting from out of the
past stretched before her. The wall to her left was occupied with a
tiled fireplace, artifacts made of animal bones and wood and copper
from days long by. An antique settee of polished cherry wood,
combined with a hat rack, umbrella stand, and a tall mirror, stood
against the wall nearest the doors. Sliding mahogany doors were
closed to her right. At the end of this wall was a wide, easy
ascent staircase. An Oriental runner carpet of an identical pattern
to that on the floor was held in place by a series of metal rods at
the back of each step.

Numbed with elation, Beth
dropped her suitcase to the floor at the foot of the stairs.
Carlene placed the larger suitcase alongside its mate then gestured
for Beth to follow her to a closed door set perpendicular to the
fireplace wall.

“This is the parlor,”
Carlene explained as she opened the door and crossed the
threshold.

Beth followed silently, her
eyes darting to take everything in at one time. The far end of the
room, to her left, ended with enormously tall windows set in a bay
with mahogany window seats. Three pink and gold sofas were
carefully arranged on an enormous red and blue Persian rug. Half of
the wall across from her was wainscoted to a height of five feet,
then tinted rose up to the twenty-foot-high vaulted ceiling. Built
within the center of the wall was an immense, intricately carved
wall unit with countless shelves and cubbyholes displaying
souvenirs and mementos of a time long past. To each side of the
unit, ancient swords, their points meeting in a tight center,
formed circular patterns.

“I've made some tea,”
Carlene said, directing Beth to one of the sofas. For the moment,
Beth quelled her inspection of the room and focused on the steaming
brew her friend was pouring from a silver pot into two dainty cups
on the coffee table.

“Thank you.” Accepting one
of the cups, Beth readily took a sip of the reviving liquid. “This
is good.”

“There's cream and
sugar.”

“Oh, no, I prefer mine
plain, thank you.”

With a sigh, Beth watched
Carlene sit alongside her. She had always admired her friend's
petite frame and pixy features. Granted, they were each eight years
older, but there was something off about Carlene that Beth could
not put her finger on. Despite this, she said, “You look
terrific.”

“So do you. I must say, I
was expecting you to look rather...ragged.”

“Ragged?” Beth grinned,
showing the deep dimples in her cheeks to their best advantage.
“Thanks.”

With an apologetic grin,
Carlene returned her cup to its saucer on the table. “It's so good
to see you again.”

“You, too. For eight years,
you've been a voice on the phone and an occasional scribble on
paper.”

Beth didn't mean the words
unkindly, but Carlene received them with a look of despondency.
“I’m horrible at writing, I know. And not having a phone here is
really a pain. But I have missed you, kiddo. It amazes me how fast
time has gone by. Well...probably not so fast for you.”

“It wasn't so
bad.”

“It couldn't have been easy
watching your mother waste away like that.”

“No, it wasn't. Ma really
hated feeling helpless.”

How well I know that
feeling,
Carlene thought, tears springing
to her eyes.

“Carlene?”

“Oh, I'm all right.” Carlene
swiped a finger beneath her moist nostrils. “She really was a sweet
woman,” she went on, her voice quavering despite her efforts to
control her emotions. “I never heard her say a harsh word. I wish I
could have made it to the funeral.”

Beth laid a hand on
Carlene's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We're not going
to dwell on anything sad or depressing, do you hear me? I want to
feel like I did in high school. Carefree and full of
hell.”

“God, we were full of
ourselves back then, weren't we?” Carlene looked down at her lap,
as if to look into Beth's eyes was too painful. “I should have
stayed around to help you with your mother, Beth, but I was too
sel—”

“Listen to you,” Beth cut
off kindly. “I never expected you to hang around and wait for me.
Look at all you would have missed.”

Missed? Oh, God, Beth, I
want to tell you so badly!

Carlene was close to
bursting into tears. She wanted desperately to warn Beth, to hug
her and try to explain what had really brought them together
again.

Why had she painted that
damn portrait?

What had drawn her and David
to Kist House?

“Carlene, you don't look
well.”

Clamping down on her
emotions, Carlene made an airy gesture with a hand. “I'm fine.” She
smiled with all the earnestness she could muster, but it was not
enough to shield the shadow of shame in her blue eyes. Her worst
fear at this moment was that her foreknowledge would brand itself
on her brow for Beth to see.

Allowing a few seconds to
pass while she sipped her tea, Beth wondered if perhaps Carlene and
David were having marital problems. Beth had hoped to finally meet
the Englishman who had swept Carlene off her feet just over a year
ago. Perhaps David wasn't thrilled with the idea of Beth coming for
a two-week stay.

This thought brought a frown
to her face. Now that she thought about it, David hadn't talked on
the phone to her for some time. “Does David mind me
visiting?”

“Of course not. Why do you
ask?”

Beth shrugged. “You seem a
little preoccupied. Are you
sure
about this visit?”

Carlene's laugh didn't
strike Beth as being genuine. “Don't be silly. I'm dying to show
off...my house. So is David. It's this humidity, Beth. I’ve never
gotten used to it. If it doesn't rain soon— But I'm feeling much
better now that you're here. I've missed you terribly.”

“Oh sure,” Beth teased,
refusing to dwell on the niggling doubts in her mind. “Who was the
one who decided after college to roam Europe before settling down
to a career? Leave it to you to land an Englishman and wind up the
mistress of a Scottish, Victorian mansion.”

That's a curse, not a
blessing,
Carlene thought ruefully. In a
light tone, she crooned, “Who knows. Maybe you'll find yourself a
strapping Scotsman to whisk you off your feet.”

Beth groaned. “You're not
planning to fix me up with someone, are you?”

“Me? No, I wouldn't do that
to you.” A sly grin youthened Carlene's features. “But if you
happen to see one that strikes your fancy....”

“My fancy is focused on
college this fall.”

Carlene grimaced. “Sounds
absolutely boring.” Careful not to sound too eager, she cast her
bait. “Are you still having migraines?”

“Now and then.”

“Have you, umm, seen a
doctor about them?”

“Not yet.”

Carlene clicked her tongue
reprovingly. “You should, you know. They began after a fall, you
said?”

“I'm still the same old
klutz,” Beth chuckled. “I'd just given Ma a bath and put her to bed
when the doorbell rang. I literally went flying down the stairs.”
She shrugged. “I've still got a lump on the back of my
head.”

“How soon after did the
headaches begin?”

Beth was thoughtful for a
moment. “A couple of days, I think. They come and go.”

“When did you
fall?”

“About a week before Ma
died.” Beth stared into her tea cup for a time then said in a small
voice, “She'd been ill for so long, her death actually came as a
shock.”

“Did she suffer? Dying, I
mean.”

“No. She went to sleep and
never woke up.”

“I'm so sorry, Beth. I
wish....”

“I know. I miss her so much.
Sometimes, Carlene, I forget she's gone, and I start to ask her
something. The house seems so empty now. So quiet.”

“Must be lonely for
you.”

Beth gave an absent nod,
her eyes staring off into space. “I was seriously thinking about
selling the house before you called and asked me to visit.” The
dullness in her eyes faded to a genuine smile. “I can’t believe I'm
here. In
Scotland
with you!”

“There are a few things I
need to tell you about this house.”

“The cabbie told me its
history.”

A smile strained at
Carlene's mouth. “No doubt. There's no electricity—oh, but don't
worry. The stove and light fixtures use gas. There's plumbing, and
there are plenty of loos on every floor, not to mention the private
one in your room.”

“Loos?”

“Bathrooms. We don't have
servants, but we do have a woman who comes in to cook breakfast
every day. You know how I am in the morning, and David loves a big
breakfast.”

Carlene was amazed at how
easily the lies were passing her lips. “And we have a
groundskeeper. Lachlan’s a bit gruff when he does talk, but he
really loves the place.”

“That's an unusual
name.”

“Yes. He's an unusual
man.”
Understatement of the century!
“Why don't I show you to your room? We'll have
plenty of time to talk later.”

Placing her cup and saucer
on the coffee table, Beth rose to her feet in sync with Carlene.
“The cabbie said your house was haunted.”

“Oh?” Carlene turned away.
“The locals are teeming with superstitions. Don't pay them any
attention.”

Carlene walk toward the door
they'd come through. Again it struck Beth there was something
deeply disturbing her friend. She followed Carlene nearly to the
door, but stopped to look over a magnificent fireplace to her
left.

The facing was of Victorian
marble, the lining and hearth of glazed, red tiles and a back of
iron. The mantel bore wax flowers and fruits under glass domes,
several carved pipes on brass stands, and two fan-tailed brass
peacocks.

Beth breathed ever so
sparingly. Her first impression of the room had been that it was
exquisitely feminine, but now she realized, amidst the vibrant
dashes of colors, it was the most masculine room she'd ever been
in. She was about to voice her admiration of the decor when she
happened to look up at a painting hanging above the mantelpiece.
Her jaw went slack. Her blood plummeted to her feet.

Carlene gripped the brass
knob of the door, her knuckles whitening under the strain as she
looked up at the portrait.

She knew she should despise
it, want to haul it down and destroy it in recompense for the grief
it had brought her during the past months. But it was impossible
for her heart not to fill with pride at her ability to have
captured the real Beth on canvas, that free spirit within her
friend that was most times hidden behind the woman's
shyness.

“I don't believe this,” Beth
murmured.

In their twelfth year at
Kennewick High School, Carlene had talked her into letting her
paint her portrait. And there Beth sat in the painting, amidst a
field of wildflowers, her riotous, light brown curls dancing on a
breeze. The lace, strapless dress Carlene had loaned her was
flapping about a bent knee that her forearms casually rested upon.
In the background, shafts of sunlight gleamed on the Columbia
River.

“Now you see why I wanted to
keep it,” Carlene said softly. “I think I must have known there
would one day be a place like this to display it.”

Although Beth was
embarrassed by the blatant carefreeness depicted of her in the
painting, she couldn't have been more pleased with it having a
place in such a house.

“It looks pretty good up
there,” she admitted, her cheeks glowing with a rosy blush. She
looked at the shorter woman and shrugged. “It actually looks
damn
good hanging there.
Hey, so when am I going to meet this dashing husband of
yours?”