Garden of the Moon (17 page)

Her heart twisted. The truth was not the only thing she wanted. She wanted even more to go back to Jonathan, to feel his arms around her, to feel his lips on hers, to hear his love words. But at some point she had to start thinking of someone other than herself. If her happiness meant those she cared about would be hurt, then she could not take her happiness at their expense.

“Complicated how?” Her father had come to stand at her side. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

How did she tell him she’d fallen in love with a ghost? Her father was very understanding of her gift, but even this was something that would tax his imagination. She couldn’t bear the idea of having her father look at her with the same disdain her mother had regarded her with all of Sara’s life.

Avoiding a direct answer, she fought for the right words. “It’s hard to explain, Papa. All I can tell you is that this doesn’t concern just me anymore. So, I’ll think about it.”

He drew her into his embrace. “Very well. All I’ve ever wanted for you is that you be happy.” He kissed her hair. “I have a feeling that finding this letter will help explain a lot of things.”

Like why Katherine wants me dead
?

***

For the rest of the day, Sara found herself preoccupied with the letter her father had told her about. Though she wanted to dismiss it from her mind and stand by her decision not to get further involved in this spider web of mystery surrounding people who had lived fifty years ago, she couldn’t.

Where could the letter be? Harrogate was huge and had many rooms and potential hiding places for something that small and so easy to conceal. It could be anywhere. Then she recalled how she and Raina had found Maddy’s diary hidden behind a picture frame. Could the letter be in such a place as well? Or what about the harpsichord where she’d found Maddy’s necklace?

All through dinner with her father and Julie, she tried to be attentive to their conversation, but found herself drifting off into thought. Methodically, she mentally combed through each room, looking for a possible hiding place. But it just got more and more confusing. There were just far too many possibilities. Maybe—

“Isn’t that right, Sara?”

Her father’s question roused her from her mental search for the letter. “I’m sorry, Papa. I’m afraid I was wool gathering. What was it you said?”

He frowned at her, and she was certain he knew what had occupied her mind so much that she’d missed what he’d said. Then he smiled and patted her hand. “No matter. I was just recounting for Julie some of my boyhood memories of Harrogate.” He tilted his head as though to better see his daughter’s face. “You look tired. Perhaps you should retire early.”

Happy for the excuse to go to the privacy of her room, Sara took her napkin from her lap and then laid it beside her barely touched dinner plate. “I am a bit tired. And I have to admit that, right now, the thought of snuggling down under Gran’s quilt holds great appeal.” She stood, kissed her father’s cheek and smiled at Julie. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”

***

Preston Wade lit his cigar and settled onto the bench in the garden. Cicadas filled the night with their music, but just as he’d begun to enjoy their song, they suddenly went silent. Deciding something, a raccoon or a possum, had scared them into silence, he leaned back and gazed at the full moon hanging like a large lemon in the sky. He soaked in the silence with a contented sigh. It was good to be back here where he’d grown up, where his dear mother had lived. Until this very moment he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed not only his daughter but also Harrogate.

Thoughts of Sara brought a crease to his smooth brow. Something troubled her deeply. He could feel it. But until she chose to talk to him about it, he could do nothing. Perhaps when she found the letter—

“She has vowed not to look for it.”

The man’s voice yanked Preston out of his relaxed state and brought him to attention. The abrupt silence of the night creatures should have told him all was not as it should be. He swung toward the voice. Standing a few yards away was a man dressed in clothes from a bygone time, and nearly transparent. Having seen apparitions like this before, Preston calmly stood and faced him.

“And you are?”

“Jonathan Bradford.”

“Ah. At last we meet.” Preston stubbed out his cigar on the stone path and threw the butt into a clump of azaleas. “What makes you think Sara won’t look for the letter?”

“She’s convinced that Katherine will do harm to her or those close to her.”

Preston frowned. So that’s what Sara meant about this involving more than just her. “And will she?”

The ghost walked closer. “No one can predict what Katherine will do. If that were possible, then this might have been avoided.” He pulled back his coat to reveal a bloody shirt and a gaping hole in the center of his chest.

Knowing the story of Jonathan’s demise, Preston only started slightly at the grizzly spectacle. His interest lay elsewhere. “Who did this to you?”

Jonathan shook his head. “I don’t know. All I remember is the flash of the gun, a woman’s scream, and then a searing pain in my chest. Then nothing. Next thing I knew, I was like this.” He spread his arms to encompass his translucent body, then dropped them back to his sides and looked imploringly at Preston. “You must convince Sara not to give up. She has to find the letter.”

“And if I can’t?”

Jonathan’s expression crumpled. “Then I will have lost her again.”

Before Preston could say more, the apparition faded and the cicadas began to sing their night song again. Preston sat heavily on the bench. Acute heartache infused his very bones.

So, Gran was speaking the truth. Sara’s destiny lay with Jonathan. And, if her destiny were fulfilled, he would never see his beloved daughter again. But in his heart he knew that even if he lost her forever, he could not deny Sara her happiness.

***

All the next day, Sara fluctuated between wanting to search the house for the letter and telling herself such a move could incite Katherine’s wrath again with awful consequences…and possibly not just to her. By the time her father’s departure rolled around, she still hadn’t made a decision about what to do.

With his arm securely around her shoulders, Preston walked with Sara to the front steps. Fighting back tears, she turned to kiss him goodbye.

“Promise me you’ll search for the letter,” he said, his face grimly serious.

He had no idea what he was asking. “I…can’t do that.” Her voice emerged weak and choked with tears.

Framing her face in his big hands, Preston looked deep into her eyes. “You must.”

“Why?”

“Jonathan.” With that one word, he kissed her cheek and said, “Goodbye, my lovely child. Remember that I love you…always, no matter what happens.” Then he climbed into the carriage and motioned for the driver to leave.

Sara stood on the front portico and watched until her father’s carriage disappeared around a curve in the drive. His last words seemed so…final. As if he’d expected to never see her again. A cold cramp clutched her heart. First she’d lost Jonathan and now, she sensed that she’d also lost her father.

As she turned to walk back into the house, Sara remembered how excited and full of plans she’d been when, such a short time ago, she’d climbed these very steps as the mistress of Harrogate for the first time. Happiness had filled every fiber of her being. The way things had been going recently, she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever feel that kind of happiness again.

Right now, she doubted it. When one felt as though the weight of the world rested on one’s slim shoulders, happiness seemed very elusive.

***

Since Julie had gone into town to do some shopping and planned to stay overnight rather than making the long trek back to Harrogate after dark, Sara ate alone that evening. Once she’d been served and the dishes cleaned up, Raina and Chloe had gone to the slave quarters to visit with Litisha, Chloe’s youngest daughter, and her new baby.

With no reason to stay downstairs, Sara retired to her room early. Purposefully, she avoided even a glance at the trunk at the foot of the bed that held Maddy’s diary hidden away in its depths. Instead, she sat in her favorite chair overlooking the Garden of the Moon. All around her, the room was bathed in darkness, but outside, the garden was alive with light. The moon had turned everything to silver, and the moonflowers had opened their hearts to the rays. Some of the magnolias had dropped their creamy leaves on the grounds, making it appear as if small tuffs of cotton had been sprinkled over the grass. Even the white stones in the pathway seemed to gleam with the moon’s light, transforming them into scattered pearls.

As the serenity of the garden and the silence of the house settled around her, Sara’s mind drifted off to the very place it had spent most of the last two days—the letter. How she wished her father had never told her about Gran’s visit to him or her message. But he had, and now Sara had to make a decision.

Should she look for the letter, or should she keep her vow to end her quest for answers to the dilemma in which Gran had left her immersed? What would happen if she did nothing? But more important, what would happen if she took action?

Unable to ignore the urge, she turned to Jonathan’s portrait.

“Help me, my love. Tell me what I should do.” She waited for some sign, but none came. His expression remained frozen in the smile the artist had painted on it. Evidently, she would have to find her own answers.

Then her father’s words echoed through her head.
You must
. He’d been so emphatic, so forceful. And then his answer to her query as to why she had to find the letter…
Jonathan
.

That one word, more than anything else her father could have said, had the power to make up her mind for her. For Jonathan, she would walk barefoot to the ends of the earth. She would look for the letter. But where?

After having circuited the entire problem several times over the past days, she found herself back at the beginning. Where in this vast house could the letter be hidden? Mentally, she had searched everywhere from the basement to—

The attic
! Of course. Wasn’t that where she’d found Maddy’s diary? Didn’t it make sense that she would have hidden the letter there as well?

Sara sprang to her feet and hurried to the attic door. When she realized she’d have to go up there alone, she hesitated. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she hurriedly climbed the staircase. She stumbled over the hem of her dress and went down to her knees. Hoisting her dress, she continued to the top. Not until she stood inside the attic’s dank heat and gazed around at the inky darkness did she realize that she hadn’t brought any source of light. Cursing her own stupidity, she retraced her steps. Just as she reached the bottom of the attic stairs, the latch sprang back into place with a loud
click
. Sara grabbed the door latch and pulled, but no matter how hard she tugged at it, it wouldn’t budge.

She was locked in.

Chapter 14

Pounding on the door, Sara screamed for help. “Someone? I’m locked in the attic. Help me.”

But no help came. With a sinking heart, she realized that no help would come. Everyone had left the house. Julie wouldn’t be home until tomorrow morning and there was no guessing when Raina and Chloe would return from the slave quarters. Even if they did, they’d never hear her at the back of the house in the unattached house slaves’ quarters.

The seclusion she’d been thankful for not minutes before, now punctuated the hopeless situation she’d gotten herself into. Fighting down panic that would serve no purpose, she sank to the dusty stairs and prepared herself for a long night of waiting to be found.

Then that familiar high-pitched laugh resounded off the walls. Sara jerked her gaze to the attic platform above her. Two disembodied large, evil eyes, swooped down on her, then receded, then swooped again and receded. The laughter grew so loud Sara had to cover her ears.

Katherine
.

Anger boiled up in Sara. “Do your best, Katherine. Jonathan is mine, and I
will
find the letter.” Her raised voice reverberated off the attic walls.

The laughter stopped and the eyes faded into the dusty air.

Then, just above her, Sara caught sight of a small oak chest of drawers teetering on the edge of the opening to the stairs. It swayed back and forth as though attached to a string that kept retrieving it just before it toppled over. In horror, she watched as it continued its macabre dance. Fear choked off her breathing. Despite the smothering heat in the attic, intense fear chilled her entire body.

Keeping her gaze fixed on the dresser, she waited for the worst.

Still the dresser continued to teeter back and forth. Each time, it leaned farther over the stairwell.

She curled into a ball, her hands over her head to protect it. Just when she’d begun to wonder if it would fall, the stillness of the attic was fractured by the loud screeching of wood on wood. Unable to not look, she peeked above her just as the dresser tumbled over the edge. She braced for the impact, but it never came.

A loud
thunk
some inches above her head made her chance another look. The dresser had become wedged in the stairwell about two feet over her head. She waited to see if it would drop more, but it didn’t move. Fate had been on her side for a change.

Content with her safety and suddenly very tired, she sat down on the stairs, cradled her head on her arms and waited for sleep to overcome her.

As she drifted off and as tired as she was, anger boiled inside her at what Katherine had intended. Despite being exhausted, she vehemently mumbled, “Do your best, Katherine. I don’t kill that easily.”

***

Cool air roused Sara from sleep. Forcing open her eyes, she could see the attic was bathed in soft light from the one attic window. She greeted the morning with a cry of delight. The dresser was still wedge din the stairwell above her.