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IT DID NOT SURPRISE Katie when she saw—or thought she saw—a woman on the back stairway the morning after discovering William’s letter to his sister, Isabella. The figure appeared to float down the steps as silently as the morning mist, and, in the space of a heartbeat, faded away like smoke in a soft breeze.
Had the letter she found stuck in the desk sparked her imagination? Or had she really seen something? Or someone?
Turning to the window to see if a reflection had somehow created the illusion, Katie viewed a mass of storm clouds piled like feather beds in the morning sky. The curtains danced with the possibility of a storm, but there was no indication Mother Nature had been responsible for the ghostly appearance. No sunbeams penetrated the cloudbank to create mysterious shadows. No shimmering rays of light danced in dappled patterns on the floor.
Katie walked the short distance to where the portrait of the widow of Lacewood hung on the wall and stared. What are you trying to tell me?
Deciding to take a break from cleaning, she pulled a table into the room, and laid out the clues she’d found. To some it would seem a hodgepodge of strange objects: the letter from William to his sister, the tintype of the family, and the scrap of a letter found beneath the fireplace brick.
To Katie they were a time capsule of treasures that had traveled from one century to another. She placed her fingers on each one with her eyes closed, thinking about the last person to touch them.
From what she could ascertain, the owner of the house was a soldier during the Civil War who had left his daughter in the care of a stranger. Based on the tintype and the letter, she now knew the woman was Annie Logan. Katie sat back in her chair and concentrated on the portrait, hoping it could provide the answers she sought.
After only a few moments she jumped up quickly, almost knocking over the table. Edging closer to the painting, Katie examined something she had never noticed before—a locket hanging around the woman’s neck.
She leaned in close. The adornment was ornate and appeared to be made of silver.
Katie went back to the table, to the image of the woman with the two children. The picture was small, but the locket was visible.
She sat down again and tried to piece together all that she had learned. At some point in time Annie Logan became Mrs. Wescott—and had a child, William.
Isabella, the child she cared for, lived here until she died. William, her half-brother, lived in New York. But why?
Katie’s mind raced as she thought about the family. Who was this young woman who had taken on the care of a young girl while war raged all around her? Katie leaned back in the chair. The woman in the portrait used to sit here too. In this very room. In this very chair. The thought made her spine tingle and the hair on her arms rise.
In that moment, Annie Logan became real to her...no longer merely a name in a letter or the image in a portrait. A real woman, of flesh and blood, who had dreams and ambitions. Who had loved and been loved.
Katie’s gaze drifted down to the letter and landed on the line: I often picture her as you described her, sitting by the window, watching the lane for the only one who could brighten her face with a smile.
A chill seized her. So Annie Logan was the one who engraved the windowsill with Jon Wescott’s name while she waited...hoped...for him to appear. The pain was immediate. And so were the tears.
Katie composed herself and took a deep breath. “Why the stairs,” she wondered as she studied the portrait. Was it a sign? Did the mysterious woman want her to go up? Something sparked in Katie’s mind. Maybe that’s where the other painting was hidden. Maybe, just maybe, that’s where Isabella, Colonel Wescott’s daughter, had hidden the portrait of her father that was supposed to hang beside his wife.
Other than scanning each room to see how much work needed to be done, Katie had barely ventured to the second floor. She’d been given a ring of keys when she bought the house, with only two of them identified—the gate and the front door. Since then she’d gone through the painstaking process of marking the others when she matched them up with the right door.
Only two doors in the house remained unopened. One was a room at the end of the upstairs hallway. The door was locked, and none of the keys would open it. Even without a way to enter, Katie had decided to save that room for last. She sensed a deep sorrow pressing upon her whenever she walked by. Heartache lived there, and she wasn’t ready to find out why.
The other place she hadn’t yet ventured was the attic. She’d found the skeleton key—but not the courage—to open the daunting door.
As soon as Katie heard the first light spattering of rain hit the roof, she began closing windows, still contemplating the image she’d seen—or thought she’d seen. The appearance caught her off guard, but didn’t really surprise her. What did surprise her was that she wasn’t afraid. She felt a certain desperation and despair at the sight of the apparition, but not fright.
Katie stood at the bottom of the stairs with her hand on the bannister column and simply gazed at where the woman had stood. One moment she’d been there, and the next she shimmered and melted away. Under normal circumstances Katie might have thought it was a result of her overactive imagination. But deep inside she felt a pull, like a current, beckoning her forward.
Grabbing a sturdy flashlight from the kitchen, Katie ascended the staircase slowly. No matter how gently she tried to move or where she placed her feet, each step groaned beneath her weight. Had they always been like this? Or were they protesting more loudly today?
When she reached the top, Katie stood and studied the attic door looming before her. The sheriff mentioned there was no electricity on the third floor, so she clicked on the flashlight to make sure it worked. Squeezing it tightly, she took comfort in its weight and substance. She could use it as a weapon if she needed to.
That thought elicited a smile. A weapon? Against what? Ghosts?
One of the floorboards in the hallway creaked and seemed amplified in the large, empty corridor. After almost jumping out of her skin, Katie continued moving toward the door. Step by step her feet carried her forward, even though fear made her want to turn around and run.
At last the heavy wooden door was within reach, so close it appeared distorted, like she was seeing it through a fun house mirror.
Stop being a scaredy-cat. There’s no such thing as ghosts.
Before going any farther, Katie placed her hand flat on the door to see if she could sense any evil spirits on the other side. Nothing. It felt like wood.
She paused, holding her breath. Did she hear something in there rustling around? Scampering, maybe? Perhaps this should wait for another day.
What if giant rats live up there?
Katie ignored her inner voice, and pulled the key out of her pocket.
Open. The. Door.
With shaking hands she turned the key, swiping away a bead of sweat on her cheek before trying the handle. The door groaned and then emitted a distinctive whining screech as it opened toward her about three inches.
That was far enough. Rattled already, Katie gulped in a few breaths of air as she stood on the brink between the known and unknown. Her nerves danced and twitched as she stared at the narrow opening, so touched and teased she could actually feel them jumping.
There is no such thing as ghosts, she kept repeating to herself, as she leaned sideways and shoved the beam of the flashlight through the small opening to investigate.
“Whatcha doin’?”
Katie jumped and turned so violently toward the voice coming from over her shoulder that the flashlight crashed against the door and fell out of her hand.
“Sorry.” Will bent down and picked it up with a devilish grin on his face. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
Katie gulped in air while holding her chest to keep her clattering heart from leaping out of her ribcage. Her gaze drifted to the creaky stairs behind him. “You don’t look sorry,” she countered.
He drew his mouth down into a pout, but his eyes danced with his amusement. “Is this better?”
She punched him in the shoulder. “I hope you enjoyed taking ten years off my life.”
He rubbed his arm and shot her a lady-killer grin that radiated a boyish charm she did not think possible. The twinkle in his eyes softened his face and increased the irresistible factor by about ten. Katie reminded herself that only a week ago he was borderline unlikeable.
Then again, maybe she was getting a glimpse of the real Will Durham—the man he was before he became the disagreeable, distant loner.
Will gave a short whistle between his teeth, and said, “Zeke. Come.” The dog came flying up the stairs, his mouth open wide as if laughing along with his master at the joke they played.
Katie’s irritated gaze went from the dog back to Will. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he made Zeke sit at the bottom of the stairs so he could sneak up on her, though how he’d done it without the stairs creaking was still not clear.
“Just remember paybacks are hell,” she said. “And since you’re here, you get to go first and deal with the spiders.”
Her initial glance through the three-inch opening had been enough to establish that cobwebs crisscrossed the doorway like a protective blanket. She could only imagine the size of the spiders inhabiting such a thick confusion of webs. If Will hadn’t shown up, she would have slammed the door shut and ended this little exploratory excursion.
Will opened the door wide and casually swiped one hand through the silky barrier to clear the way. “Follow me, princess.”
When he was halfway up the stairs, he stopped suddenly, causing Katie to run into the back of him. “What’s wrong?” She spoke in a hushed voice while grabbing a handful of his T-shirt for extra comfort. The solid strength beneath it provided that and more.
“Nothing,” he whispered back, as if enjoying her paranoia. “Just want to know what we’re looking for.”
“I don’t know,” she hissed.
“Okay. I’ll keep my eyes open for that.”
The stairway, like the doorway, was garlanded with webs and at least a decade of dust, which Will blazed through with a couple more swipes of his hand. Katie released his shirt as her head reached eye level with the floor above.
On her right, at the top of the stairs, she saw a window. On the left, paralleling the staircase, a hallway. Will stomped up the last few steps and turned left to investigate what lay at the end of the hall.
Katie followed close behind—not because she half-anticipated something would jump out and grab her, but because he carried the light and she wanted to see where she was going.
At the end of the corridor Katie saw a doorway opening into a room so enormous she couldn’t make out any walls in the single beam. She held her breath when she noticed Will walked more slowly now, more cautiously. When he stopped suddenly again, she reached out and gripped the cloth of his shirt even more tightly. It took every bit of her willpower to not ditch the brave act and wrap both arms around him. “What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing. Just wanted to make sure you were back there.”
“Stop trying to scare me.” She let go of his shirt and snacked him on the back as they stood in the doorway of the room. “Do your job and shine the light up ahead.”
Will flicked the beam over to the right side. Cardboard boxes stacked neatly in one corner appeared to be from the twentieth century, but there were some trunks and other things hiding under dusty coverings that appeared much older.
“What is all this stuff?”
“Left by previous owners, I guess.”
The sensation of something touching the back of her leg caused Katie to suck in a deep breath—but she successfully stifled an all-out girly scream. Zeke squeezed around her through the doorway with his nose to the floor, investigating the new territory.
“Something wrong back there?” Will turned around and shot her a lopsided grin when he noticed Zeke.
“No. I’m good.” Katie held one hand flat on her chest and wondered how many heartbeats had just ticked off the already overworked organ.
Other than the laughter she read plainly in his eyes, Will didn’t comment. Instead he turned the flashlight toward a wall where more boxes were stacked. The beam then swept the room and landed on another door in the far corner that appeared to be a small closet.
“Let’s see if there’s anything in there.” Katie pointed to the dimly illuminated door.
“I don’t know.” Will spoke in a low, serious tone, his voice full of concern. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“What if there’s a skeleton or something hidden there?”
Katie thought he was serious until he turned around with the flashlight under his chin and made a ghoulish face.
“Stop it!”
“You’re not scared?”
“No, I’m not scared,” Katie said bravely. “Quit playing around and open the door.”
“You want to go first?” He held out the flashlight. “I mean, since you’re not scared?”
Katie swallowed hard, glancing from the flashlight to the door, and then to Will’s face. His expression held more than a hint of humor, and she knew he was making fun of her. But the thought of opening the door and having the light reflect off a white skull, or a complete skeleton made her decline anyway.
“Would you please stop playing games?”
“Okay.” Will crept up to the door and put his hand on the latch. “Ready?”
Katie closed her eyes as she heard the door creak open slowly, inch by inch. As soon as the screeching stopped, she felt a burst of light hit her eyelids. She squeezed them tighter, not wanting to see the hollow-eyed stare of a skeleton apparently reflecting the flashlight beam back at her.
“Unless you have some superpower I’m not aware of, you can’t see what’s in here with your eyes shut.”
She opened her eyes and saw that Will had turned around and was shining the light on her face.
“Dammit, Will!” Katie grabbed the flashlight out his hand—and immediately had second thoughts.
“Go ahead,” he said, smiling and gesturing with his arm. “Shine it in there.”
Katie tried to hold the flashlight steady, knowing Will was watching the beam quiver and shake. On any other day, in any other place, it would probably please her to know that this usually aloof man possessed such an abundant sense of humor. In another setting, she might even consider this trait endearing and appealing. But right now her nerves were too tightly strung to consider it anything but a stressful aggravation.
Defiantly, she stuck the flashlight into the small room and leaned in.
“Oh, wow.” Katie reached out and pulled Will closer while pointing the flashlight toward a little trunk sitting by itself against the back wall. “It has to be really old.” Katie walked over and kneeled down in front of it. “Let’s see what’s in it.”
“Probably bones.”
Katie held the flashlight up over her head, pretending she was planning to hit him with it.
“Just guessing,” he said with a shrug.
Katie was both excited and disappointed. She wanted to see what was in the trunk, but she could tell it wasn’t big enough to hold the missing portrait. Deep down she’d been hoping this excursion into a seldom-used part of the house would uncover more secrets. The portrait seemed like an important missing piece of the puzzle.
Thankfully the trunk wasn’t locked, but the lid was heavier than Katie expected. Will reached out a hand and helped her open it, then shone the light inside. “Aww. It’s nothing but a bunch of books.” Will sounded disappointed.
“Nothing but a bunch of books? They’re old books.” Katie bent down for a closer inspection. “A treasure chest.”
“No, a treasure chest would be full of gold coins and gems.” Will picked up a couple of volumes and searched under them as if convinced something might be hidden there.
“Nothing could be more valuable than a book. Just imagine...the people who used to live here held these in their hands...treasured them.”
“I get it,” Will groaned. “What you’re saying is, you want me to carry your treasure down two flights of stairs.”
“Of course.” Katie smiled. “Remember what I said about paybacks?”