Haunt Me (4 page)

Taking a moment, she glanced around the overgrown jungle garden. Some sections were so dense she couldn’t even make out the type of plants beneath the shade cast by the trees. Instead of a sunlit dense green, it was dark.

And kind of creepy.

She studied the overgrowth. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and tingles spread over her skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake, despite the heat.

It’s so quiet…

The lack of sound was unnerving, but the sense of being watched pervaded her entire being. Turning from the garden, she glanced up at the house. Awareness rippled over her and all the hair on her body, not just those on the back of her neck, seemed to stand up. “I’m just going to the store,” she said aloud. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

She paused, waiting. Justin’s impatient look at her aside, she knew the Summerfield ghost was “alive,” and maybe… “Really, I’ll be back. I know you’re there, even if no one else believes.”

She glanced at the SUV and then the gates, then back to the house. The tingles stopped their rush up her skin. The sense of the ghost was gone, and she was alone once more.

Still shuddering, she hopped into the car and slammed the door. The warmth inside the vehicle chased away the lingering chill. A nagging feeling dragged at her as she headed toward the gates, a feeling like she’d forgotten something. At the end of her driveway, she stopped the car and stared closely at the gates.
Interesting
. It seemed as though someone had chiseled out the hinges. As if at some point someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to make sure the gates would never open. Now, however, it seemed as though they’d never be able to close.

Something pulled at her insides, as if she were being tugged back to the house.

I promise,
she said mentally.
I’m coming back.

She revved the engine, then headed toward Penny Hollow. As she passed what she figured had to be Justin’s house, she glanced at the beautiful building. It didn’t seem quite fair that he got the big, gorgeous plantation house. After all, his place was referred to as the Caretaker’s Cottage—hers was supposed to be the larger estate home. A little jealous, she stuck her tongue out at the house and continued on to town.

Groceries and, more importantly, coffee, awaited.

A little over an hour later, in the town’s only grocery store, she studied the produce offerings. Prepackaged sliced veggies, or fresh produce? The packaged ones would save her time when it came to cooking.
Seriously, how often am I going to cook?

She liked to cook, but between the much-needed work on the house and the book she had to finish, she didn’t have time for a lot of meal prep. She tapped a finger on the cart, then winced. The split nail still hurt.

If the town had a food-delivery service, it would make her life easier, but pizza wasn’t even delivered out where she lived. She’d made do with ramen noodles three nights running when she’d roused herself from writing long enough to search for food.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out to see another call from Kevin. Tension squeezed her chest. Would he never leave her alone, or did he plan to haunt her forever? She clicked ignore and focused on finding groceries.

“Maybe sandwiches would be better,” she muttered.

“For what?”

The bubbly voice came from directly behind her and sent Mac’s pulse rabbiting. She turned to find a beautiful blonde pixie, beaming at her.

“Sorry!” A musical laugh accompanied the apology. “Hey there, you’re new—and it’s terrifically unfair of me to ambush you here in the produce section, but I’ve been wanting to meet you and when I saw you here, I said to myself, Jock, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for, so go say hi. Besides, it’s so much easier to ‘run in’ to someone at the grocery than it is to wander up a driveway, you know?”

Mac backed away, but the girl edged her cart to the side and joined her.

“This isn’t the best season for squash,” the girl continued, “but the eggplants should be great, and Wilson’s just delivered some of the fattest, juiciest tomatoes you’ll ever experience. Do you like to cook? I suppose you’d have to, considering you haven’t been to any of the restaurants. I would have come out to see you sooner, but I had to register for my classes and move into my dorm. But I’m back for the weekend.”

The girl who called herself Jock picked up one of the zucchini and pretended to look at it, but her gaze never left Mac’s face. Bright blue eyes seemed to be assessing every aspect of her, from her appearance to her reactions. Mac regretted not having at least glanced in the mirror before walking out of the house. Casting a surreptitious glance down, she managed to not groan. She’d thrown on a tank top and pair of denim shorts—hopefully both were clean.

“Anyway, I hope you’re not having too much trouble out at the Summerfield house. We’re all very well aware of the reputation and no one would think twice if it was giving you the creeps. I have no idea how old lady Summerfield could stand it”—Jock dropped her voice to an almost conspiratorial whisper and leaned uncomfortably close— “though the rumor is, she went quite mad living there.”

Mac backed up a step and tried to keep her attitude casual. “I—”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that was more than a little tasteless of me.” Jock bit her lower lip and grimaced. “Sometimes my mouth jumps ahead of my brain. While she did get a little dotty in her later years, everyone thought the world of Miss Katherine. She was a
part
of our town and
our
community. She
wanted
what was best for it.”

“Jocelyn Marianna Kent.”

The clipped syllables of a full name, coming from a very male voice, drew the blonde up with a jerk, and she snapped her mouth closed to glare at Justin, who stood two feet away, arms folded.

No wonder the woman seemed familiar, Mac realized—she had to be one of Justin’s siblings.

“Really, Justin? You’re going to growl my whole name like I’m some errant five-year-old?”

“You’re late. We need to go.” He jerked his thumb toward the door. “Move it. Leave Mac alone. Hey, sorry about her.” He gave Mac a brief smile.

The apology in his words did nothing to diminish the heat scorching her as his gaze collided with hers. Her tummy did a little somersault.

“I wasn’t bothering her.” Jocelyn tossed a beguiling smile at Mac. “Was I? I was just saying hello.”

Charmed despite—or maybe because of—the overabundance of personality, Mac held out her hand. “MacKenzie Dillon.”

“Oh.” Jocelyn smacked herself in the head before grasping her hand. “Jocelyn Kent, if you didn’t already know from Justin’s rude interruption—but everyone calls me Jock. Don’t mind him, by the way. He’s grumpy.”

“
He
is going to be late,” Justin growled, but beneath the impatience and timbre of his voice was a clear affection for his sister. “And you’re supposed to be at school.”

“Not twenty-four/seven,” she snapped back at him, but her smile rebloomed the moment she looked at Mac. “If you’d like, I could show you around—introduce you to some people. Let you get a real feel for the town. Though I’m really not sure what a big-name author like you could enjoy about Penny Hollow. We’re about as far off the beaten trail as you get. In fact, you’d probably need a backhoe to find the beaten trail around here—”

“She won’t have time for any of that. She has to go.” Justin’s expression waffled between exasperation and amusement, but Jock didn’t seem to notice.

This side of Justin fascinated Mac. His affection for his sister seemed so different than how Kevin had treated her—no. No more thoughts of him. She wanted to enjoy Justin for Justin.

Jock’s face tightened with a scowl as she glared at her brother. “Are you an only child, Ms. Dillon?”

“Yes,” Mac admitted.

“You are so lucky. Brothers are a pain in the ass. Look—” She dug around in her purse and pulled out a pen and notepad. “This is my number. Call me. We’ll do coffee. I’m only a few hours away and I get back here on the weekends. I can also tell you everything you ever needed to know about the town.”

She all but thrust the paper at Mac. Only when their hands brushed, Jock blinked furiously. “Wow,” she said, breathlessly.

Mac pulled her hand away and waited.
Wow, what?

“Jock, I swear to God, if you don’t get your butt in gear and head back to school, I’m going to toss you in back of the truck.” Clearly Justin was not nearly as charmed by his sister as Mac was. “Sorry, Mac. I’ll get her out of your hair. And don’t forget—I’ll be by your place around five.”

Those few words sent her awareness of him rocketing…or maybe it was the way his gaze lingered on her.

“I’m leaving.” Jock made it three steps before she pivoted and looked Mac square in the eye. “And you should be careful at Summerfield, Ms. Dillon. The Summerfield Curse is a very real thing. The women who live there…they’re never happy—hey!”

Whatever else Jock might have said was cut off when Justin made good on his promise by swooping his sister up and throwing her over his shoulder. He gave Mac a wink and a smile before marching away with an air of grim determination, leaving his sister to wave at Mac before she began beating on his back.

…

Jocelyn Kent, it seemed, was only the first scoop of the crazy sundae. The butcher offered Mac a rabbit’s foot—he promised it was the genuine thing and she should put it on her keychain to ward off ghosts. The baker passed her a bag of rock salt and told her to spread it across every threshold in her house—to keep negativity from following her. A mechanic from the local garage paused to help her load her groceries in the SUV and handed her, of all things, a horseshoe. He told her to nail it over the doorway she used most often to ward off evil.

The quirkiness came across as cute, for the most part. Small towns possessed characters; she understood that. Yes, she was well aware of her family history, but the residents of Penny Hollow seemed to be working overtime for the local color. Justin had warned her that Penny Hollow was odd, but she hadn’t expected so much emphasis on the house’s curse.

Spotting a bookstore on her way down the main street, she made a sudden decision. Maybe the store would have a few books about local history—obviously there was a lot about Penny Hollow she needed to learn. She found a diagonal parking slip out front. A combination of live and white oaks lined the street at regular intervals, and she’d managed to score a parking space beneath the shade of a white oak. With cold groceries in the car, she couldn’t linger long.

A young woman sat behind the counter, scratching a pencil diligently against a sheet of paper. A school textbook sat open next to her. She glanced up at the jingle of the door. “Good morning—oh!” Her face lit up at the sight of Mac. “You’re Nicole Austin! Oh, my God! Nicole Austin is in our shop!”

Someone had recognized her as the pseudonym she wrote under—probably from her website.

The girl’s excitement was contagious as she circled out from behind the counter and held out her hand. “Mrs. Beagle will just die that she wasn’t here to greet you herself. We couldn’t be more excited about you moving to Penny Hollow. I’m Andie West, and I’m a
huge
fan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Andie. And it’s MacKenzie Dillon. Nicole’s just a pen name. I really only have a few minutes, but maybe you can help me?”

“I would love to!” If Jock had been bubbly, then Andie was simply incandescent—a bottle rocket ready to blow. “What do you need?”

Do they make them any less cheerful here?
“I was looking for some books on local lore and legend.”

“The Summerfield Curse.” Andie snapped her fingers. “Of course you’d want to know about it.”

Not exactly. Mac knew her family stories. She wanted to know what everyone else knew…or at least what they were hinting at.

Andie whirled around, then led the way down one of the aisles to a corner display. “It’s one of our most popular legends—I’m surprised you don’t know about it if the house is in your family.” The last few words seemed to hold no judgment.

“We have lots of stories in my family, but—well, you know how families are.”
Vague, keep it vague
. Nana Taylor had not been a fan of Summerfield, though she lived there for several years as a young girl. She’d fled as soon as she could, and as far as Mac knew, except for the one time her grandmother had brought Mac out to meet Katherine, Nana had never returned.

“Aha!” Andie pulled out three different books and held them up. “This is
Penny Hollow, a History
, by Mayor Tabke. It was put out in 1920. We always keep a few copies. This is
Myths and Legends of Virginia Towns.
Penny Hollow scored its own chapter and Summerfield is prominent in the book.” She handed yet another book to Mac. “And this is
Matchstick Lovers
. It’s actually one of those New Age-y pagan books, but the woman who wrote it was a local, and she swears the Summerfield Curse is a love spell gone wrong.”

An eclectic mixture of fact and fiction. Curiosity nibbled at her spine. “I’ll take all three.”

After Mac purchased the books, Andie stopped her before she could exit. “Ms. Austin—I mean, Ms. Dillon? We may a small town and more than a little quirky, but we really are happy to have you here.”

“Thanks, Andie. It was good to meet you.” Mac turned and walked out, although the moment she stepped outside, she felt the weight of several gazes.

They’re just fascinated by something new… They’ll get bored with me soon enough.

Groceries, coffee, and books to explain the town’s obsession with her house all purchased, she headed home, the need to write building in intensity, thrumming through her veins.