Page 41 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
I curled my gnawed fingernails with raw cuticles into my palms so no one would notice how long it had been since I’d seen the inside of a nail salon. “Yes?” I said, forcing myself to listen.
“Remember the soldier we saw pointing the musket at us when we visited the plantation? Well, I find it interesting that one of Eliza’s roommates at the mausoleum was a British soldier. Too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, right, Jack?”
She looked at my husband for corroboration before continuing. “What’s really interesting is that Alexander Monroe was a British officer billeted at the plantation during the occupation. So why would he beinterred with a son of the household and his fiancée? They had the entire cemetery at their disposal—why not just bury him in a regular grave?”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Jack said, giving Jayne a look of admiration that made the gnat in my head buzz a little louder.
Jayne continued. “And remember that smell in Nola’s room that happened when those letters appeared on her wall? It smelled like gunpowder and horses and leather, didn’t it?”
I nodded. I’d thought the same thing but had kept it to myself, hoping to figure out what it meant first. Maybe if I’d had the time to get my nails done, I would have figured it out, too.
“Maybe it’s Alexander,” Jayne suggested. “Which means there’s a definite connection to the cistern and the mausoleum. Although, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I didn’t get a negative feeling from him, but there’s definitely a negative vibe in Nola’s bedroom.”
“There’s a woman, too,” I added, avoiding Jack’s gaze. “I saw her on the stairs. Just once, and it was very quick. It was the day of the Christmas photo, and I only saw her that once. I didn’t connect her to the mausoleum, probably because I saw her here, and...”
They were both looking at me with blank expressions, and I knew we were all remembering the argument I’d had with Jack that very afternoon when Nola had found the photos on my phone of the other spirit in her bedroom. The argument that had been about me not telling Jack everything. I swallowed. “It was very quick,” I repeated. “But I think she said something—it wasn’t very clear. I’ve been waiting to see her again so I could make sure I heard her right before I told anyone. I wanted to be sure.”
Jack’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “What did you think she said?”
I could still hear the “S” of the last consonant, slithering like oil inside my head. “Lies.”
“Just that one word?” Jack’s eyes narrowed.
I went to him and kissed him soundly on the lips, keeping it G-rated on account of Jayne and the children being present. “Just that one word. I promise.”
His hands cupped my shoulders. “Is there anything else you think you might want to tell me?”
I shook my head. “I don’t tell you about every ghost I see because you might start questioning my sanity. I can’t block them all.” I looked over at Jayne for corroboration and she nodded. “I didn’t think to mention the woman on the stairs because I thought it might be someone who’d followed me from outside and it was a onetime deal. It happens a lot. It might even have been something the girls conjured when they played with the Ouija board—there’s really no way of knowing. But now, in context with what Yvonne told us, maybe the ghost is connected to the cistern.”
“You look so sexy when you’re being earnest,” Jack said, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. He pulled me closer to him and kissed me.
“Not to sound like Nola, but get a room.”
We broke apart and looked over at Jayne, whose hands were firmly planted over her eyes, one on top of the other just in case there might be an opening she could peek through.
“Actually, I need to get to work,” I said, my words dying as I recognized the Hard Rock Foundations truck pulling up in front of the house. “Did anyone else just hear the sound of a giant cash register sucking in all of our money?”
Jack followed my gaze. “Why is Rich Kobylt here?”
We heard the sound of Nola bounding down the stairs before coming to an abrupt stop outside Jack’s office door. “Dad? Can you drive me to school? It’s Mrs. Ravenel’s turn to drive, but Alston and Lindsey have to be at school early and I don’t so I said one of my parents could drive me instead.”
Jack looked at his watch. “Don’t you have to be at school in twenty minutes?”
She nodded. “Yes. So we have to hurry.”
Jack sighed heavily as he reached for his car keys on his desk. “And you didn’t think to mention this yesterday?”
“No, sorry. I forgot.” She hitched her backpack higher on her back, pulling her long-sleeve purple polo out of the waistband of her grayuniform skirt, then turned to me. “And Dr. Wallen-Arasi stopped by yesterday afternoon to look at the dining room floor again and asked me to tell you that Mr. Kobylt would be here this morning to give you an estimate.”
Jack and I exchanged a glance, an unspoken agreement to let it slide. We were still so grateful she’d emerged physically unscathed from the accident that neither of us wanted to call her out about being irresponsible. We’d save it for another time.
“Come on, Nola—let’s get in the van.” He gave me a brief kiss on the lips, said good-bye to Jayne and the twins, then left with Nola.
“Great,” I said, sucking in my breath and mentally girding my loins. “I guess that means I need to go talk to Rich.”
Jayne reached down to grab a hand of each toddler. “He went around to the back, so you might want to go through the kitchen. He probably wants to check on the progress of the cistern. Didn’t you tell him that you want it filled in by Christmas?”
“Yep. Although I haven’t told Sophie because I’m afraid of what she’ll tell me.” I kissed JJ and Sarah, then headed out through the kitchen, grabbing my coat and a cup of coffee on the way out.
