Cursing Fate

By Meghan Kelly

Captain Eli Walker had spent the last 150 years fighting in wars all over the world. But this scarred soldier was about to face the most wrenching battle of his long life, with a heart-breaking ghost from his past.

Single mother Maryrose Hughes came to the small town of Morris to find a new life for herself and her infant son. What she found there was a man she was drawn to in ways that were as mysterious as he was.

Life and death collide as they strive to reconcile their pasts, while struggling to find a common future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meghan Kelly
• Release date: May 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458059222

Book preview

Chapter One

Eli

I am not considered a sociable man. And since my return from the Middle East, I'd become what my family affectionately referred to as a crotchety old hermit. That didn't bother me overly much, I figured after what I'd seen and done in war, I was entitled to enjoy my own company for a while.

Being a returning war hero in a small town was one thing. Being the war hero returning to find that everything I'd left behind had moved on without me, had filled me with a sense of loss and disquiet. Time didn't move the same way in a desert war zone. Where I'd returned from had literally been a different world. The days were unbearably hot, exhaustively dangerous and the unending view of dunes and heat shimmers made your eyes play tricks on you. I'd looked forward to coming home to my town, my family and friends and slipping easily back into my civilian life, such as it was.

But I'd returned to watch my brother marry; find one of my closest friends inexplicably gone away, and new places and faces in my town. It had left a hollow feeling in my chest that I didn't much like, and I'd turned to solitude to lick my wounds.

My proclivity for brooding aside, even I knew when enough was enough, and when my new sister Lulu told me to get out of the damn house and get over myself or she'd pester me within an inch of my life, I'd done just that. Not to avoid the consequence she'd threatened – I could easily ignore her threats, knowing she really just meant well, and her pestering was really more gentle teasing – but because it was time.

It was time to emerge from the dark once more, to crawl out of my coffin and drink in life.

I dressed casually, a tad uncomfortable with civilian clothes after so long in military gear, and left the large house I shared with my family, stepping into cool, clouded air that was still a shock after so long in the hazy dry heat of the desert.

Chapter Two

Em

Morris was not a place I’d have ever imagined liking. With all the trees, and gloom, not to mention the near constant chill, it was a far cry from the helicopter sized bugs and oppressive heat I’d left behind in the swamps of Louisiana.

Here the trees loomed large all around me, and sometimes it felt like living in a fairy tale. Only without the handsome prince. But I was okay with that, because I’d kissed my share of princes, and they’d all turned out to be frogs in disguise.

I had my coffee shop, Pick Me Up Cafe, in a shabby old house at the sparse end of Main Street. The big two story place had cost all my savings to buy, and needed more work with its peeling white paint and shoddily patched roof, but it was home; with my shop downstairs and a cozy apartment up. And I had Ethan, and that was enough. Except on days like today, when I felt that twinge of being utterly alone.

The couple in the corner couldn’t really be blamed for my mood, but they sure didn’t help. Lulu Franks and Toby Hunter. Though, I guess it was Lulu Hunter these days. They were here to meet her father, Sheriff ‘just call me Bobby’ Franks.

When I’d first come to town, the beer-bellied and mustached small town cop had been understandably suspicious of me, newcomers in small towns are always regarded with suspicion. But one look at Ethan and the cookies I slipped the Sheriff with his coffee had quickly won him over.

So now, he met his daughter and her new husband in my shop a few times a week. Lulu had been friendly from the start, though her husband, Toby, was a bit stand-offish. But he clearly adored his wife and went along with whatever she wanted.

At the moment, the willowy strawberry blonde and her tall dark-haired husband were snuggled together in the corner, as close as they could be without touching. I could have sworn they were having a conversation, but neither of them was speaking. I felt almost as if by watching, I was intruding on an intensely private moment.

I was glad for the distraction when the shop door opened and Bobby walked in.

Hey Bobby, I greeted him warmly.

Hello Em. My name was Maryrose, but I had people call me Em, like the letter. I’d always hated that name, which was why it was the best name to use now.

What can I get you? I asked him, already moving to get his order. The usual?

That’ll do it, he agreed. How’s Ethan?

Good, thanks. Sleeping right now, thank god, I replied as I poured a large black coffee.

I turned to hand him the cup and a double chocolate cookie, and the shop door opened again, bells oddly quiet.

I didn't know the man who entered noiselessly behind Bobby, but I was struck by a sense of recognition so strong it nearly took my breath.

I couldn't help but stare as he paused just inside the door, his eyes darting around the shop. When his gaze hit me, he dipped his head. Ma'am.

Southern, I decided. He had to be. No one said 'ma'am' quite like a Southern boy. My eyes traveled over him, from the messy burnished gold curls to the ebony hooded sweatshirt over close fitting white t-shirt paired up with well worn, faded jeans and scarred brown boots. His clothes were relaxed and comfortable, but there was a tension in the way he stood, a wary sort of watchfulness, that looked out of place in a sleepy, laid-back town like Morris.

Normally, I'd have chastened myself for ogling him, but he was doing the same to me, with a strange expression on his face.

Noticing the direction my attention had turned, Bobby looked over his shoulder, his face registering surprise when he saw the man behind him.

Eli! Bobby sounded pleased to see him. Haven't seen you around for awhile.

The man nodded to the Sheriff, his eyes never leaving my face. Been keepin' to myself, mostly. He responded, his low voice revealing the drawl that I’d suspected.

I forced myself not to squirm under the weight of his gaze, instead using the opportunity to study him just as intently. The strange sense of familiarity only increased the longer I looked at him. He spoke with Bobby, his replies to the older man sparse, but it was obvious to me that they were friendly.

I automatically filled his order – coffee, black – and accepted his payment, waiting until he'd walked away to catch Bobby's attention before he too headed to the table at which his daughter waited.

Who was that? I asked him, hoping my voice didn't betray the rampant curiosity that was consuming me.

Toby's brother, Eli, the sheriff answered.

Captain Hunter. That rang a bell. The returned soldier. It was no wonder that I hadn't made the connection, he looked far too young to be the man I'd heard of but never seen. I'd automatically assumed he'd be older. That's him? I questioned.

He's a good boy, Bobby told me, instantly countering the stories I'd heard, an excellent soldier, I've heard. I've been trying to convince him to come work for me, but as he said, he likes to keep to himself.

The phrase Bobby used, 'an excellent soldier' seemed to strike a chord within me and that disturbing sense of familiar crept over me again. What was it about that man?

Chapter Three

Eli

I was staring at a dead woman.

That was my first and only thought upon setting eyes on the woman behind the counter.

I inhaled slowly, testing her scent for familiarity. But there was nothing to explain why she looked like someone who I’d watched die over 150 years ago.

It wasn’t possible.

The last time I saw that face, her skin was waxen and her full lips blue-tinged with death; her storm blue eyes clouded and unseeing.

I managed to hide my reaction, for the most part, responding to Bobby's greeting and even ordering a drink I didn't want from the ghost behind the counter.

I shook my head as I turned away, going to the table where Lulu and Toby sat practically cooing at each other. I forcibly ignored the obvious cloud of adoration surrounding them. I wasn’t in the mood to face the all-consuming emotions from the two of them.

As soon as I sat, Lulu was in my mind. She didn’t have the curse, but she had the gift of being able to read peoples thoughts. On one hand, it was annoying to have her in my head all the time, but on the other, it was sometimes nice to not have to say things out loud. Like now.

And then she was staring at me as if I’d grown another head. I was pretty sure my thoughts were too jumbled for her to make much sense of them. Hell, I couldn’t make sense of them.

I turned my gaze back to the woman behind the counter, studying the familiar but strange features, the graceful movements that I could almost predict.

She’s wondering who you are, and why you’re looking at her like that, Lulu whispered, low enough that no one would overhear.

I pulled my eyes away from her and focused on my brother’s mate. What else?

Lulu concentrated for a moment. She likes flirting with my dad because he’s easily flustered and she knows he won’t take it seriously.

Toby laughed at that.

Not very useful, Lu, I sighed.

She held up a hand. She thinks you seem familiar, and is wondering where in the South you’re from. She paused. Odd. I’m just getting images now. Like dreams. Swamps. A full moon. Hiding.

Hiding? Toby repeated.

Lulu nodded slowly. She’s blocking me, somehow. There’s something she’s keeping buried.

That was interesting. We hardly ever ran across anyone who could block her. I flicked a glance over at the woman as Bobby approached us.

The resemblance was... uncanny. The sweep of dark hair, in a more relaxed, flowing style than the elaborate upsweep I remembered. The lines of her face, the gentle curve of her cheekbones, the long straight nose that turned up just a bit at the end. I knew without looking her eyes were dark blue. The modern clothes, dark jeans and a red top, threw me a bit, I’d been used to long skirts and high necks. She looked exactly like...

I rose and greeted Bobby. Good morning Bobby.

He nodded at me as he sat next to Lulu. Eli. Looks like you’ve made an impression on our Em.

Em? That was her name? It didn’t fit.

Bobby jerked his head toward her. Coffee queen over there. She was asking about you.

What did you tell her? I asked absently.

That you were a moody, antisocial bastard, and that she should keep her distance, the sheriff replied, making the others laugh.

I let an answering grin slide across my face to cover the discomfort I was feeling at his more than apt description. Stop, you're gonna make me blush.

1976

Disgusting mint green walls that I was sick of staring at and the smell of antiseptic and dying flowers surrounded me; lying in a hospital bed, tubes and wires all around me, in me. The uneven beeps of the monitors tell me what I can already feel. The erratic beats of my heart are painful, echoing in my head, the only sound I can focus on.

It’s too late for me. My heart is giving out.

If they’d caught it sooner, there might have been a chance, but it was too late.

Too late.

I was too young to die this way, they said. Too young for my heart to give out the way it had. A medical mystery.

But I knew it was fate.

I always died young.

Movement outside the door catches my eye. That doctor. The young one who was impossibly handsome, and had tried so valiantly to save me. Dr Murphy. Standing outside my open door, speaking to someone I can’t see. I can’t catch his words, but as my eyes close and my heart stutters to a stop, I hear him say a name.

Eli.

Chapter Four

Eli

I couldn’t get her out of my head. After leaving the coffee shop and trying to go about my day, I was haunted.

Some might think that seeing that face again would be some sort of relief, a closure in a way. But to me it was a shattering agony. A reminder of my failure, my curse.

I’d thought after all this time that the memory of her couldn’t hurt me anymore. My heart had been torn apart by a Union bullet over a century ago, and I figured I’d never feel anything like that again.

I’d been dead wrong.

I spent hours sitting in my room thinking. Brooding. Staring unseeing at the mementos from countless wars that I’d earned with my sweat and blood. Until I couldn’t stay locked indoors with my thoughts anymore and just had to go out and do something.

So I did. Something.

And now I was outside of that damn coffee shop again. Hidden in the shadows, watching. I could hear her talking, her voice a soft murmur, but couldn’t hear any responses. I gazed up at the curtained window, tracking her silhouette as she moved through her apartment. She appeared to be alone, but she was speaking still. She leaned over something I couldn’t see for a moment, and then straightened again, reaching out; then the window went dark.

I waited.

A light came on in another window and I followed it. This window was not curtained, perhaps because she believed it was hidden by the large oak that grew beside the house.

But I could see.

I crept closer to the tree, to gain a better vantage point, briefly considering taking up a position in the tree - it would have been a simple thing to leap up to the low porch roof and then to one of the branches - but just thinking about it made me feel like a stalker.

I shouldn’t be here, I thought. But worse than that, she shouldn’t be here. Not when her ashen remains were supposed to be safely entombed in a family crypt in a New Orleans cemetery.

It was impossible.

But I of all people know that being impossible didn’t stop things from happening.

Chapter Five

Em

I found that if I let slip that I'd finally met Eli Hunter, the gossip would pour in. It seemed everyone had some sort of opinion of the man, good and bad.

My favorite by far had been from my closest neighbor, sweet and dotty Mrs. Henderson, who I'd run into at the grocery store. Mrs. Henderson had heard from her sister who'd heard from her neighbor's daughter that Em Hughes had met Eli Hunter and was going to run off with him.

Handsome as sin, those Hunter boys, Mrs. Henderson had whispered in her reedy voice. But that Eli is the dangerous one, you mark my words. He's got manners, he's quiet, and has that sad look about him. He'd make a good husband and father, by my bet; he just needs a good woman to tame him. The elderly woman had winked at me over bags of flour. If I was a few years younger, I'd be looking his way too.

I’d found the exchange hilarious because Mrs. Henderson was at least seventy and had been happily married for more than forty of those years. But I'd assured the older woman the she was in no way interested in 'taming' him – or anyone, for that matter.

It was interesting, however, the differences of opinion among those that talked.

He was a hero, a patriot. He'd saved hundreds of lives.

He was a killer, a mercenary. He'd taken hundreds more.

He was a spy, working for one of those