An Uneasy Inheritance: Kyrie Carter: Supernatural Sleuth, #4

By Leta Hawk

After a harrowing investigation shook her to her core, she vowed to give up ghost hunting…

When Kyrie Carter loses her job and her house, a much-needed new start comes in the form of a house in the mountains of Renovo, Pennsylvania, inherited from a relative she barely remembers. Despite her oldest brother's objections, Kyr reluctantly accepts it.

…But it seems she can't choose to just walk away.

Several spirits haunt the 19th-century house, including Great-Aunt Celeste, the ghost of a woman Kyr first saw when she was only four, and a malicious male spirit who is tied to both a mysterious little girl she befriended as a child and a long-lost treasure rumored to be buried on her newly-acquired land.

As Kyr tries to figure out the connection between these spirits and the property she inherited, she stumbles upon evidence of a long-hidden secret that caused a rift between Celeste and Kyr's family—a secret that shatters everything she holds dear.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bumblebee Road Publishing
• Release date: Aug 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781540180995

Book preview

Acknowledgments

What more can I say that hasn’t been said previously? My sincere appreciation goes out to those who have suffered through the creation of yet another book, and what a monster this one was! I thought this one would never be finished, and truth be told, there are still untold scenes swimming in my head.

To my husband Mike and my sons Wesley and Wayde for patiently (or not-so-patiently, depending on the day) putting up with their wife and mother living as a hermit.

To all my author friends who know how crazy and sometimes discouraging this writing life can be: Thank you for your words of support and encouragement, and for your advice, whether solicited or unsolicited. And thank you for not beating down my door every time I extended my release date by another week, another month.

To Lou Bernard, again, thank you for sharing your wealth of knowledge about Clinton County, Renovo, and Prince Farrington. Never in my wildest dreams did I think a moonshiner would show up in one of my stories.

To Raven Blackburn, my wonderful cover designer: As always, your work gives me chills. The way you take my wild, wandering ideas and stock photo suggestions and turn them into something stunning is nothing short of amazing. Thank you again!

And most of all, thank you to God, Who gave me the desire and the ability to write, Who stirred the fire within when fear or frustration threatened to put it out, and Who continues to give me stories to tell.

And hark! where overhead the ancient crows

Hold their sour conversation in the sky:—

These are the same, but I am not the same,

But wiser than I was, and wise enough

Not to regret the changes, tho' they cost

Me many a sigh. Oh, call not Nature dumb;

These trees and stones are audible to me,

These idle flowers, that tremble in the wind,

I understand their faery syllables,

And all their sad significance. The wind,

That rustles down the well-known forest road—

It hath a sound more eloquent than speech.

The stream, the trees, the grass, the sighing wind,

All of them utter sounds of 'monishment

And grave parental love.

They are not of our race, they seem to say,

And yet have knowledge of our moral race,

And somewhat of majestic sympathy,

Something of pity for the puny clay,

That holds and boasts the immeasurable mind.

I feel as I were welcome to these trees

After long months of weary wandering,

Acknowledged by their hospitable boughs;

They know me as their son, for side by side,

They were coeval with my ancestors,

Adorned with them my country's primitive times,

And soon may give my dust their funeral shade. 

From The River

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

CHAPTER ONE

THE SLATE GRAY clouds skimming across the sky matched my mood as I parked in the alley behind my house, turned off the ignition, and sat staring at the steering wheel in the gathering twilight. Despite the chill that crept in as soon as the heat shut off, I yanked off my leather driving gloves and laid them in my lap before snatching the letter from the seat next to me and reading it for the fifth time since Maureen had handed it to me only an hour before. I stared at the words on the page until they became nothing more than a jumble of letters that made no sense.

The cold had begun to make my nose and cheeks tingle, and my fingers were stiff as they held the crisp, white paper in a death grip. The blue-green numbers glowing on the radio display told me I’d been sitting there for almost ten minutes. Well, there’s no use sitting out here freezing my tuckus off when I can just as easily wallow in self-pity in the warmth of my living room. I folded up the letter neatly before jamming it and my gloves unceremoniously into my tote bag and getting out of the car.

A frigid blast of wind slammed into me as I kicked the car door shut and hurried, head down and coat collar up, towards my back door. My thick wool pants and layered sweaters did little to hold at bay the unusually cold late-November air. By the time I reached the house, my fingers were so chilled that I fumbled the keys as I struggled to unlock the door.

Once inside, I dumped my purse and my tote bag on the table, shrugged out of my coat, and trudged to the living room to adjust the thermostat. I waited until the heat kicked on before letting myself drop into the worn red-and-black plaid recliner that had belonged to my dad. I sat there for several minutes, staring unseeingly at the twilit window and smelling the trace remnants of Wild Country cologne that lingered deep in the chair’s upholstery.

My nose stung with unshed tears as I wished Daddy and Mom were still alive. Daddy never had been sentimental or even very affectionate, and he certainly wouldn’t have approved of the way I was sitting here sulking, but right now, I would have given anything for his solid strength and the words of wisdom that seemed to come so easily from his mouth. Mom would have brewed me some kind of calming tea from her herb garden and fed me slice after slice of banana bread loaded with walnuts and chocolate chips while I told her my troubles.

For a brief moment, I closed my eyes, almost able to smell the soothing aroma of chamomile and mint and hear the deep timbre of my father’s voice as he assured me that everything would work out if I’d just keep my chin up and cling to my faith. I tried to draw strength from my imagined conversation with my parents, but instead I found myself mentally arguing with my father. Those are nice words, Daddy, but faith isn’t going to pay the bills.

Thinking of bills made me realize I hadn’t gotten the mail yet. Letting out a huff, I reluctantly got up and went to the front door. I quickly opened the door and leaned out into the biting cold to grab the mail from the box hanging by the door. Shivering, I shut the door and stood by the desk thumbing through the envelopes—water bill, electric bill, charities begging for money for the holidays.

I was about to drop the whole pile onto the desk to deal with later when one of the envelopes caught my eye. Setting the rest of the stack on the desk, I looked more closely at the cream-colored envelope that was postmarked Williamsport, Pennsylvania. The return address read, Edwards, Burke, & Hufnagle, Attorneys at Law. It certainly looked official, but I wrinkled my nose in confusion. Why would a law firm in Williamsport—or anywhere else, for that matter—send me correspondence? Thinking of my impending unemployment and the bills lying on the desk, I half-hoped that some long-lost relative had died and left me a fortune. I smiled wryly. Like that would ever happen.

Before I could sink back into my pool of self-pity, I reminded myself that I had work to do. I had promised to bring a pumpkin roll and a red velvet cake roll for the Steeles’ Thanksgiving dinner, which meant I should be baking instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I tossed the envelope onto the desk with the rest of the mail and trudged out to the kitchen, hastily cleared the table off, and gathered the ingredients to begin baking.

I’d hoped that focusing on the recipes would take my mind off my troubles, but unfortunately, I kept thinking about my situation as I measured flour and sugar and cracked eggs. Trying to ward off my growing sense of hopelessness, I reminded myself that I would still have an income writing freelance articles for the local paper, and I made a mental note to inquire about a steadier job there.

Also, I had a decent amount in savings, thanks to Luther’s insistence that I open a rainy-day account with my share of our parents’ inheritance.  Still, I didn’t like the idea of having to dip into that savings to live off of, especially if I couldn’t find another full-time job. My mind drifted to conversations I’d had with unemployed friends and relatives about how difficult it was to find jobs in the present economy, and I immediately began worrying again.

Halfway through mixing up the batter for the pumpkin roll, Barry Manilow’s cheerful voice cut into my thoughts. I quickly wiped my flour-coated hands on a dish towel and grabbed the phone before it went to voicemail. Hello, I said hurriedly, not bothering to check the caller ID.

Oh, you are home; I thought maybe you’d be working the night shift at the library before leaving for the holiday. Spook’s deep, warm voice reached down inside me and coaxed a slight smile to my lips, even though his words brought the day’s events crashing in around me once again.

I tried to sound cheerful as I replied, No, the only time I work the night shift is when we’re getting ready for the fundraising book sale. Fat lot of good the fundraising did.

He was silent for a moment, and just as if he were sitting right there next to me, I could see the thoughtfulness in his coffee-brown eyes as he weighed my words and the strain in my voice. You sound tired. Rough day?

More than you know. Not wanting to broach that subject right now, I decided to wait to give him the bad news in person. I let my head fall forward onto my free hand and squeezed my eyes shut tight. I took three deep breaths to stem the flood of tears that was threatening to overtake me. Finally I responded, No worse than usual from the children’s end of things. I just have a lot on my mind, I guess.

Another moment of silence on his end told me that he sensed I wasn’t being completely honest. If you say so, Kyr, m’dear. I smiled at his term of endearment, knowing that his comment confirmed that he knew I was holding something back. I hoped he’d let it go; I really didn’t want to talk about it with him tonight. You’re sure there’s nothing you want to talk about? You seem a little out of sorts.

I let out a sigh and tried harder to cover my feelings. Honest, Spook, there’s nothing I need to talk about. I just have a lot on my mind, plus I’m in the middle of baking.

The suspicion and concern left his voice as he was reminded about the treats I would bring with me tomorrow. That’s right, pumpkin roll. My second favorite dessert. After a mischievous chuckle, he amended, "Or maybe my third favorite. I can’t wait till tomorrow afternoon, when my favorite dessert shows up on my doorstep."

I giggled and blushed at his flirting. Playing along, I teased, Oh, is someone delivering a chocolate cake to you tomorrow?

His voice dropped an octave. You know what I meant, Kyrie Carter. It seems like forever since I’ve seen you.

It’s only been a couple months, Spook, I chided playfully, absentmindedly stirring the cream cheese filling.

Only a couple months, he repeated, sounding forlorn. I wish we didn’t live so far apart. I don’t like seeing you only every couple months. I want to see you every day.

I know, Spook. I hate being so far away from you too. I sighed as a warm feeling washed over me at his words. In some ways it was kind of funny, a big, tough guy like Spook talking to me like a smitten teenager, but in other ways—the ways that mattered, I supposed—it was wonderful to feel wanted, loved, important to someone. It was a feeling I hadn’t had much of in my life, and I was discovering how much I needed it.

Spook and I talked for a few more minutes, finalizing our plans and making sure the directions I had printed off Google Maps were accurate. Well, Kyr m’dear, I suppose I should let you go so you can concentrate on baking. I heard him smile as he said, Just think, tomorrow night, you’ll be in my arms when we say good-night instead of four hours away.

I was grinning like a Cheshire cat by the time we hung up, and I returned to my baking feeling much better than I had when I‘d arrived at home. The only down side to the rest of my evening was that in my effort to make my cake rolls as perfect as I could to impress Spook and his parents, it took me longer than I had hoped to finish. It was almost ten o’clock by the time I placed the desserts in my cake carrier and slid them into the refrigerator. I let out a frustrated huff, realizing I still had to throw some things into my duffel bag for the weekend.

WHEN I TURNED OUT THE light almost an hour later, I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and I was sure I’d sleep like a log as I had the night before. I couldn’t have been more wrong. My sleep was littered with odd dreams—strange, sometimes terrifying images of a dark forest, an old house, a large dog, and children’s voices. The images were so vivid that when I woke up, I thought I heard voices in my bedroom.

I sat up abruptly to listen and realized that what I had thought were voices was actually rain hitting the window. Great. I went to the window to peer out. I hated driving in rain, and having to do so when I was going someplace unfamiliar hours from home was twice as bad.

I turned on the space heater in the bathroom and went downstairs to put a pot of coffee on. Then I rushed back upstairs for a nice hot shower to try to warm myself up. As I let the water flow over me, I thought about the images from my dreams. I really didn’t put much stock in dream interpretation, but I laughed to myself as I imagined getting a book from the library and looking up my dreams to see what they meant. Suddenly remembering yesterday’s bad news, I thought ruefully, the book would probably tell me that I’m stressed out or afraid of my life changing. I certainly didn’t need a book on dream interpretation to tell me that.

By the time I got ready, loaded everything into the car, and made sure the house was locked up, it was a half hour later than I intended to leave. On the way out of town, I made a quick stop at the gas station to top off the tank. Of course, it being the day before a holiday, traffic began to stack up as soon as I pulled onto the main highway. The cold rain began falling more steadily and mixing with snow, which made for an even slower go. I kept a wary eye on the thermometer on the dashboard display, as the temperature was only a few degrees above freezing.

Despite my nervousness over driving in the wintry conditions, waves of fatigue began to wash over me. I switched off the heater and turned on the radio to try to find some music to help keep me awake. To my irritation, I found no fewer than five stations that were already playing Christmas music. Oh brother, I groused to the DJs. Can’t you at least wait till the day after Thanksgiving?

I finally gave up and just left the radio on the first non-Christmas station I found so I could concentrate on the road. Traffic moved fairly smoothly till about a half hour north of Williamsport, when everything began to slow and eventually came to a complete stop.

After sitting still for several minutes, I put the car in park. Not a minute later, I heard sirens coming up behind me. Looking in the rear view mirror, I saw a police car and an ambulance approaching on the berm. Surprise, surprise. Must be an accident up ahead. My suspicion was confirmed a while later when the DJ broke in with a traffic report about a jack-knifed tractor trailer and multiple other vehicles involved. I turned the ignition off, rested my forehead on the steering wheel, and sighed. This was going to be a long trip.

After almost an hour of sitting, I pulled out my cell phone to call Spook. He must have checked the caller ID, because he picked up and said right away, Let me guess; you're running late.

Yeah, you got that right, I replied, getting out of the car to stretch my legs while I talked to him. Just then, another ambulance with sirens blaring came rushing past on the berm.

Spook heard the siren. Is that an ambulance? Kyr, are you all right?

I sighed heavily. I didn't want him to start worrying. I’m fine, Spook. It’s raining and snowing, and there’s a jack-knifed tractor trailer somewhere up ahead. We haven't moved for an hour.

I could hear the concern in his voice. Well, where are you? Can you go around it?

No, I can’t. From what I can see, I’m nowhere near any exits, and I want to stay off the side of the road. I explained that the emergency vehicles were getting to the accident scene via the berm. I’m about half an hour north of Williamsport.

I don’t suppose I could come and get you?

I rolled my eyes, thinking he sounded just like my dad. No, Spook. There’s no way you could get to me anyway. Besides, by the time you’d get here, the accident will have been cleared, and I’ll be on my merry way. At least I hoped I would. I’m fine, really. I'll just be late getting there. Just then a tow truck went whizzing past. I let out a relieved sigh and got back in the car. Listen, a tow truck just went past, so maybe they’re in the clearing stages. Hopefully we'll be moving soon.

Spook still sounded concerned as he asked, Do you think you’ll get here before dark?

That thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but I wasn’t going to let him know it made me uneasy. I guess it depends on how soon they get traffic moving again. I’ll get there as soon as I can, okay?

After a moment’s hesitation, he replied, Okay. Just be careful. And call if you have any more trouble.

I will, Spook, I said with a sigh. I love you.

Finally I heard a smile in his voice as he responded, I love you too, Kyr.

THANKFULLY, I MADE it into New York without encountering any more accidents, but with all the additional traffic backlogged because of the jack-knifed tractor trailer, it was almost fully dark by the time I finally arrived in town and saw the sign for Evergreen Trailer Park.

Letting out the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding, I laid aside my Google Maps printout and turned onto the narrow gravel road, concentrating now on finding Spook’s address. I slowly drove past trailer after trailer, trying unsuccessfully to read the numbers on the mailboxes or even to distinguish the colors of the trailers. Look for the light brown trailer, he says, I muttered grumpily, squinting into the misty darkness. They all look the same color in this light, Spook. Of course, I was supposed to get here almost two hours ago, when it would have been light out.

Finally, I spotted the Spookmobile, as Gabe had dubbed it, parked in front of a trailer near the end of the road. The front porch light was on, and a lamp glowed brightly from inside. The door opened as I pulled into the driveway beside the Spookmobile, barely giving me a chance to squash down my bad mood. Spook came outside, grinning broadly, and I found myself smiling despite my grumpiness.

He excitedly yanked my car door open and tried unsuccessfully to pull me into his arms. Spook, for Pete’s sake, let me unbuckle my seat belt first.

Sorry. He chuckled as I reached down to free myself. I thought you’d never get here.

You and me both. I climbed stiffly out of the car. Before I could say anything else, Spook swept me into his arms and claimed my lips in a kiss that made the chilly dampness fade away. I ran my hands slowly up his arms and over his shoulders to tangle in his thick, dark hair. His fingers slowly caressed my cheeks before he slid his hands down my sides and around my waist to pull me closer and push me back against the car.

We kissed until the mist turned into a cold drizzle once more. I leaned against his chest for a moment, savoring the scent of his cologne and letting the warmth from his body seep into me. All too soon, he pulled back to look down at me. Even in the darkness, I could see the smoldering passion in his eyes. This isn’t the first time we’ve kissed in the rain, is it?

I giggled and blushed, recalling our kiss outside the residence hall at Willow Lake. Suddenly feeling the chill in the air, I replied, If I remember correctly, though, it was quite a bit warmer then.

Noticing that I had begun shivering, Spook became all business. Let’s get your things out of the car and get you inside where it’s warm. He pushed past me to open the rear car door. Of course, the first thing he caught sight of on the back seat was the cake carrier containing the pumpkin roll and the red velvet cake roll. His eyes lit up mischievously as he grabbed the desserts and tried to push past me. I’d better get this inside out of the rain. You can carry your own duffel bag, right, Kyr m’dear? he teased.

I grasped his arm as he tried to get past me. I don’t think so, mister, I admonished with mock sternness. They probably won’t even make it through the front door if you take them.

He thrust out his lower lip and gave me his sad puppy-dog eyes before handing over the cake carrier and grabbing my luggage out of the car. We quickly made our way inside where Spook dropped my duffel bag on the floor by the front door before leading me into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and hastily rearranged things to make room for the desserts.

As I slid the cake carrier onto the bottom shelf, I wrinkled my nose at the meager contents of his fridge—a jar of pickles, half a loaf of bread, a jug of milk, ketchup, mustard, jelly, an assortment of Tupperware containers holding who knew what, and a six-pack of beer. Typical bachelor.

I pushed the fridge door shut and turned to face Spook, about to comment on his eating habits. The hopeful expression on his face silenced me, and I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow at him. What’s that look for, as if I didn’t know?

His eyes sparkled playfully as he asked, "You are going to let me sample those, aren’t you? When I raised both eyebrows at him, he teased, It would be embarrassing for you to have Mom and Dad taste them and find out there’s something wrong with them. I’m only thinking of you."

I poked him in the ribs and replied, Baloney! You’re only thinking of your stomach. Just then his stomach growled as if to emphasize my point, and I accused, You probably haven’t even had supper yet, have you? And neither have I. Or lunch, for that matter, I realized as my own stomach growled in response to his.

He pulled me close and countered, Now what kind of a boyfriend would I be if I had supper before my girlfriend got here to eat with me? He kissed me on the forehead and on the nose before claiming my lips again. As I let myself melt into him, he pulled away long enough to whisper, Of course, if we do this long enough, I won’t have to eat.

Giggling, I nuzzled into his neck and teased in return, I think you’re just stalling, Old Mother Hubbard. If your cupboards are as bare as your refrigerator, tomorrow is probably the only time we’ll eat this weekend.

Taking the hint, he released me, smiling sheepishly. I should have done some grocery shopping before you got here, but if I know my mother, she’ll send me home tomorrow with enough leftovers to last a week. Chuckling, he added, And you’ll probably go home with a stockpile too.

I laughed, thinking his mother must be a lot like Aunt Julia. Well, impending leftovers or not, you’re not getting a bite of dessert until you eat something for supper, I scolded, crossing the room to what I assumed was his pantry. Now, what do you have on hand so I can whip us up something at least half healthy?

Spook followed right on my heels and pushed the pantry door shut, but not before I saw that it was almost as empty as the fridge. Oh no, you don’t. You didn’t come up here for me to put you to work. I’ll order us a pizza or subs or Chinese, whatever you’re in the mood for. He reached into a drawer by the phone and pulled out an assortment of take-out menus. Whatever you’re in the mood for, he repeated, grinning impishly.

Laughing, I shook my head, took the menus and flipped through them. You’re incorrigible, I said, wrinkling my nose.

And you’re adorable, Ms. Bookworm, he responded, putting an arm around me as he grabbed the phone and we headed into the living room.

CHAPTER TWO

AN HOUR LATER, we sat on the couch, eating Chicken Chow Mein and rice out of take-out containers. I had given up on the chopsticks after dropping a second piece of chicken onto my shirt, but Spook seemed to be a pro, eating as fast with his chopsticks as I was eating with a fork. I thought of his near-empty pantry and refrigerator. He’s probably had a lot of practice.

As if reading my mind, Spook lowered his chopsticks long enough to say, You know, I don’t want to give you the impression that I single-handedly keep all the take-out places in town in business. I do cook, and quite well if I do say so myself.

I gave him a half smile and replied shortly, I’m sure you do.

Pausing with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, he glanced sideways at me and challenged, You don’t believe me?

No, I believe you, I insisted, staring into the remainder of my Chow Mein for a moment. Making an effort to smirk at him, I added, You must be such a good cook that you ate your cupboards bare. That sounded really stupid, Kyr, I berated myself, looking away quickly and adding, Besides, you did make French toast when you visited me over the summer.

Yes, yes I did. Spook chuckled and gazed at me. I was certain he knew I wasn’t myself, and I mentally prepared for him to ask what was wrong. He tipped his head to the side to look at me. I know you had a rough drive up here. Are you tired?

A little, I responded weakly, leaning forward to set my container down and grab my fortune cookie.

Wait, wait, wait, Spook said excitedly, setting his container down and picking up his fortune cookie too. I want us to do this at the same time. He grinned at me again. To make sure our fortunes come true. I giggled and shook my head as he counted down, Three, two, one, open.

We both broke our fortune cookies and unrolled the scrap of paper. Spook groaned, made a face, and read, "‘Someone will invite you to a Karaoke party.’ That sounds like a misfortune to me."

I take it you don’t want that one to come true, I joked. He grimaced, and I stifled a laugh, remembering his distaste for Karaoke and recalling his imitation of one of the less talented performers at A Drop in the Bucket last summer. He must have read my thoughts because he suddenly broke out singing, I Will Survive in an off-key falsetto, forcing a short laugh from me.

Spook seemed disappointed that he didn’t get more of a reaction, but he said nothing. Instead he popped a piece of fortune cookie into his mouth and motioned towards the scrap of paper I still held. So what does yours say? He leaned back, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

I unfolded mine and glanced at it before reading it aloud. An exit is sometimes an entrance into new experiences. Immediately thinking about my soon-to-be-eliminated job, I swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat before Spook noticed.

But of course he did notice. Sitting up quickly, he tossed his fortune onto the coffee table and turned me so I faced him. He ordered gruffly, Okay, Kyr, spill it. Something’s wrong; I could tell when I talked to you last night. Tell me what’s going on.

As I saw his eyes full of concern, I couldn’t keep the tears from falling. This wasn’t the way I had planned to tell him, but I supposed it was as good a time as any. The budget meeting for the library was held yesterday afternoon, I began. Money has been tight all year, and cuts had to be made somewhere. Spook’s expression suggested that he knew where I was headed. The biggest cut was...my job. They said they can’t justify keeping on a children’s librarian when they’re barely making ends meet. Indignation replaced the concern in his eyes as I finished, I’ll have a job through the end of the month; after that... I didn’t have to finish my thought.

Damn budgets, Spook muttered, pulling me against him and stroking my hair a little more roughly than I’m sure he intended. How can they say they can’t justify your job? Who’s going to do the kids’ programming?

I took a deep breath and slid closer to him, drawing on his strength. I guess they figure Maureen and Lisa can pick up the slack, along with the volunteers. Franklindale Library isn’t exactly huge.

But you do so many programs for those kids; how do they expect the rest of the staff to pick up the slack? They’ll never do as good a job as you do, he defended.

I couldn’t help laughing. Spook, your bias is showing. Maureen and Lisa are both capable of handling things, especially with all the plans I’ve set up along the way, I reasoned. Besides, they figure we can do without some of the programs, let the schools pick up some of the reading challenges, that kind of thing.

He drew back to look at me. Well, I still think it’s really rotten to give you the axe, Kyr, especially right before Christmas. He shook his head and sat back, drawing me down with him. After letting out a long breath, he asked softly, So what will you do?

I rested my head against his shoulder and mentally reminded myself of my tentative temporary plan. Well, for now, I at least have my freelance writing with the newspaper. I’m planning to ask if they can possibly take me on full time, or at least let me write on a more regular basis.

Are there any other libraries nearby that you can apply to?

I shook my head. None that are hiring full-time children’s librarians, I replied. The budget issue goes beyond Franklindale, unfortunately. Most of the libraries in the area are only hiring part-time right now, if at all. I was quiet for a moment before I joked, If worst comes to worst, I suppose I could always deliver pizzas.

Spook drew back and gave me a disgusted look. Kyr, don’t be ridiculous. You have a college degree; you’re not going to deliver pizzas. That would be degrading. His expression turned stern, and he continued, Besides, I don’t like the idea of you driving around at night alone, stopping at strangers’ houses, and having to carry a lot of money around.

Suddenly irritated, I sat up and glared at him. Why was he being so unreasonable all of a sudden? Okay, first thing, Spook, I don’t think it’s so ridiculous or degrading to deliver pizzas. It’s an honest job. No, it isn’t ideal, but I’m not planning to make a career out of it. Besides, I didn’t see you looking down on the guy who delivered dinner tonight. I could make a lot in tips delivering to people like you, right? He returned my glare and tried to argue, but I cut him off. Second thing, I appreciate your concern for my safety, but you’re not my father, for heaven’s sake, and I’m not a teenager. I can take care of myself—

You always say you can take care of yourself, he cut in angrily. But then how many times have you gotten in over your head while you’re ‘taking care of yourself’ and had to have someone save your ass? I’m four hours away from you, Kyr; I wouldn’t be able to do anything if you got in trouble.

Aggravated that he would bring that argument up again, I shot back at him, What are you, my personal bodyguard? And anyway, Spook, we’re talking about delivering pizzas, not ghost hunting. Unless you’re afraid I’m going to deliver to a demon-infested haunted house...

Kyr, don’t make jokes; this isn’t funny, he interrupted. Besides, like I said, I think with your brains and education you should be looking for something more stable and permanent than food service.

I threw my hands up in frustration. "Oh, for Pete’s sake, you know, I haven’t even applied for a pizza delivery job. I haven’t applied for any jobs yet; I haven’t begun looking for a job. Why are we even arguing about this?"

Spook squeezed his eyes shut and sat back with his hands over his face. After a moment, he sat up again and began rubbing my back. I’m sorry, Kyr, he began, calmer now. I shouldn’t have gotten so... He looked at me contritely and continued, I just worry about you, and I want the best for you. I raised an eyebrow at him, understanding what he was saying, but still thinking he sounded like my father.

I know you do, I conceded, leaning against him again. I’m not seriously considering delivering pizzas anyway, you know. I’m just throwing options out there...and trying not to get depressed over the whole situation.

He traced a finger along my jaw line and then tipped my face up so he could kiss me gently. I know, Kyr m’dear, he replied, low. That’s one of the things I love about you, the way you try to see the bright side of things. You’ll find something else, Kyr. He smiled wickedly and continued, Even if you have to move up here to do it.

I laughed and snuggled close to him. The thought of moving closer to Spook wasn’t an unpleasant one, but at the same time, the idea of moving out of state and so far away from Aunt Julia and JoEllyn scared me a bit, especially if I gave in to the insecure fear that Spook and I might break up. I didn’t see that happening, but then I hadn’t foreseen Trevor and me breaking up either. I sighed, not wanting to relive that bad memory.

He seemed to pick up on my need to change the subject. Look, now that we’ve got that out in the open, how about we talk about something more pleasant? He grinned down at me. Like how I’m sure I can hear those desserts calling to me from the fridge. I did have supper, you know.

I gave his shoulder a playful slap. You don’t give up, do you? He grinned impishly and shook his head. Finally, I gave in. Oh, all right. You can have the edge pieces since I can never get them to look like the pictures on the recipe.

I had barely finished speaking before Spook jumped up and headed for the kitchen. I followed, giggling at his enthusiasm. He went to the cupboard and brought down some plates while I got the cake carrier out of the fridge. You’re having some too, right Kyr? When I hesitated, he teased, Oh, please don’t tell me you’re watching your figure. I’ve been watching it for you, and I think it’s just perfect. His wicked grin made me blush, but I agreed to join him in indulging. Should I make us some coffee? he asked. Cake always tastes better with coffee.

I think so too, I responded, smirking at him. But isn’t it a bit late for coffee?

It was Spook’s turn to smirk at me. Too late for coffee? Isn’t this the girl who was drinking coffee at almost three in the morning on her first ghost hunt?

I wrinkled my nose at him. Honestly, did he remember everything? Well, that was different, don’t you think? I countered, although it probably wasn’t. It’s just that I didn’t sleep that well last night, and as you’ve already pointed out, I had a rough trip up here, so I don’t want to jinx my chances of getting a decent night’s sleep tonight.

Spook’s brows came together with concern as he set the plates on the table in front of me and handed me a knife. So you made a four-hour—rather a six-hour—drive on not enough sleep? Kyr, you’re lucky you didn’t fall asleep at the wheel.

I let out a slow breath as I sliced off the ends of both cake rolls. Obviously I shouldn’t have told him that; I just gave him something else to worry about. Spook, I was fine. I had my big travel mug of coffee, and I kept the heat off so I wouldn’t get drowsy. No use telling him that I did anyway. I’ve made long drives before, so I know the tricks. I caught his eye and pleaded, Please, Spook, I don’t need another lecture.

He nodded curtly, agreeing to drop the subject. But I had a feeling we would discuss it again before the weekend was over. His expression changed as I set a plate in front of him. He cut a piece of pumpkin roll and tasted it. I watched with satisfaction as his eyes shut blissfully and he savored the bite. Mmm, Kyr, this is a slice of heaven, he said, taking another big bite.

I’m glad you approve. Sitting down across from him, I sampled the red velvet roll. I sighed, enjoying the richness of the cake and the sweetness of the filling. Some of the tension left my body, and I willed myself to set all my frustrations aside and enjoy this weekend.

A few hours later, I was snuggled beneath the blankets in Spook’s spare bedroom, feeling more relaxed and hopeful than I had the night before. I was certain that the change of scenery was doing me some good and helping me not to fret over what would happen at the end of the month. As I listened to the sounds of Spook puttering around in the living room and then coming in to get ready for bed, I smiled, thinking I could get used to sharing a house with him.

I was just about to doze off when he stuck his head in the doorway and asked softly, Do you need anything, Kyr m’dear?

I rolled over to look at him and replied drowsily, No, everything is perfect.

He came in, sat on the bed, and teased, You do know that wasn’t the right answer, Kyr. When I gave him a questioning look, he continued, You were supposed to say, ‘I need someone to snuggle up to me and keep me warm.’

I giggled and reached for his hand. But would I get any sleep if someone snuggled up with me?

Spook laughed and lay down next to me, slipping his arms around me. Can I at least hold you till you fall asleep?

Sighing contentedly, I slid over to give him more room. I guess you could convince me to let you do that, I teased sleepily, as he pulled me closer and laid his head against mine.

As much as I tried to stay awake to enjoy his closeness, exhaustion soon took over, and I fell asleep. However, just like the previous night, my slumber was littered with strange dreams.

TWO WOMEN STOOD OUTSIDE the back of the house I’d seen in the previous night’s dream. They held a piece of paper between them as they stared into the dark woods. One woman was short, with faded auburn hair and a shawl drawn tightly around her shoulders, while the other was taller and wore her dark hair in a tight bun. They spoke to each other in hushed tones; the only words I could make out were treasure, danger, and hidden in plain sight.

A sense of foreboding washed over me, and I felt the urge to run, although I wasn’t sure where I would go. All around were those dark woods, and behind me was the house, which threatened in its own right.

As I stood frozen, the auburn-haired woman turned so I could see her face. I felt I should know her, and as our eyes met, a feeling of peace settled over me. Just before I awakened from the dream, I heard her say, All is not always as it seems.

I AWOKE IN THE PREDAWN darkness, somewhat disoriented and believing I was still in those woods, or even worse, inside that house. It took a moment to recall that I was at Spook's house, in his guest room. I let out a sigh of relief and pulled the blankets up tighter around my shoulders, staring towards the window, puzzling over my dream. What could it mean, having much the same dream two nights in a row? Who were the women in my dream, and why did the one seem so familiar to me, even though I knew I had never met her? And what did her words mean, All is not always as it seems? Was that a warning, or was it meant to reassure me?

I wanted to believe my strange dreams were just a result of stress over my impending job loss, but I didn’t think that was it. Recalling other times, especially recently, when I’d had strange, vivid dreams that eventually came true, I shuddered and wondered if there was something more at work here. Coupled with my recently-increased sensitivity to things I couldn’t see, I was certain there was more at work.

I lay there till the sky began to turn from black to gray; then I gave up trying to go back to sleep and just decided to get up. I rummaged around in my bag for my oversized hoodie and put it on over my nightshirt and sweat pants.

Crossing to the window, I parted the heavy brown curtains to peer out; I hadn’t been able to see much last night when I got here. Spook’s guest room looked out towards the back of his property. He only had a small back yard, which was bordered by a few tall evergreens; beyond the trees was another lot, and I could see the porch light of another trailer. There was a coating of snow on the ground, but the cloud cover had broken up, and I could see a patch of clear sky in the sunrise.

There was no clock in the guest room, so I wasn’t sure what time it was. I decided I’d go and see what Spook had in the way of breakfast. Recalling his offer of coffee with dessert last night, I was sure he at least had that, so I made my way out to the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, I opened the pantry and found coffee and filters, plugged in the coffeepot, and poured the water in. While I waited for the coffee to brew, I went into the living room and sat down on the couch, taking in his living space a bit more than I had last night.

I wrinkled my nose fondly, realizing that most of his décor was unsurprisingly quite masculine. Dark wood paneling covered the bottom of the walls, and the upper part of the walls and the ceiling were plain white except for the wood beams that spanned the room. The leather couch I was sitting on was dark brown, and there was a black leather recliner on the other side of the room. Of course, he had a TV, although it wasn’t a large one like Brad and JoEllyn owned. I supposed that wasn’t a shock; Spook didn’t come across as someone who watched a lot of TV.

He had a modest-sized bookshelf that was only about halfway filled with books; the other shelves held photos and collectibles. Always interested to see what other people read, I tiptoed over to peruse his books.

A quick scan of the titles on one shelf revealed a handful of Stephen King novels; Graham would approve of that, and I made a mental note to mention it to him. On the shelf above stood a couple books on landscaping design, a single book on herbs, and some books on various paranormal topics. I slid a copy of Chariots of the Gods off the shelf and began flipping through it, only a little surprised to see something like this on his reading list.

A noise behind me startled me, and I turned to see a groggy-looking Spook standing at the entrance to the living room, leaning against the wall. Find anything interesting?

Somewhat guiltily, I closed the book and slid it back into its place. Smiling sheepishly at him, I replied, I’ve heard you can tell a lot about a person by what’s on his bookshelf.

And what do the contents of my bookshelf tell you? he chuckled, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

I tried to come up with a witty reply, but failed. I shrugged and answered, Well, I guess you’re a landscaper who believes in UFOs and likes horror stories.

He laughed out loud. That’s all the better you can do, Bookworm? I was expecting some deep insight into my character.

I waved away his comment. Well, I’m a librarian, not a psychologist. Besides, I haven’t had my coffee yet.

Hmm, coffee, Spook said, turning towards the kitchen. I thought I smelled coffee brewing. I followed him into the kitchen, where he pulled mugs down out of the cupboard. He poured two cups of the strong brew, handed me one, and chastised, Didn’t I tell you I didn’t invite you up here to put you to work? You should have let me make the coffee.

I took the milk and sugar he offered and fixed up my coffee. Well, I didn’t know when you might roll out of bed, and I decided I didn’t want to wait.

Spook set his cup down and came over to stand next to me. He took my cup from me and set it on the table before he gathered me into his arms. I could get used to waking up with someone else in the house, he said huskily. Although it would be even better to wake up next to that someone. He brought his lips to mine and kissed me tenderly, running his fingers through my sleep-tangled hair.

I was thinking the same thing last night as I went to sleep, I replied, smiling up at him. Even though his hair was a mess and his eyes still looked heavy and tired, he was so handsome that I could hardly breathe looking at him. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed by my emotions, I gave him a quick kiss and then pulled away.

Spook chuckled and went to the pantry, where he pulled out a box of Lucky Charms and an open carton of donuts. I hope you’re not in the mood for Eggs Benedict or something fancy like that, he joked. With the feast I know Mom is preparing, I don’t want to eat a big breakfast.

My eyes lit up as I saw the Lucky Charms. I tried to be good when it came to breakfast foods, so I didn’t keep sugary cereals in my own pantry, but I had always loved any cereal that contained marshmallows. Spook grinned as I enthusiastically grabbed the box and took the bowl he handed me. I haven’t had these in...years, I gushed as I poured a big bowl for myself before handing the box back to him.

He jokingly stared into the box, asking, Did you leave me any? Should I have gotten two boxes?

I thumped him on the shoulder and protested, I didn’t take that much. Do you want some of mine?

He laughed, No, Kyr. I’m just kidding. Besides, I can guarantee that in a few hours I won’t even be thinking about Lucky Charms. Mom will have more food than we can all eat in a week.

We sat at his small but cozy kitchen table with our cereal and coffee. After the edge had been taken off our hunger, Spook asked, So, did you sleep well?

I should have expected that question, but I faltered a bit as I answered, Um, yeah, pretty well.

Spook raised his eyes to mine, knowing I wasn’t being quite honest. Only pretty well? What was wrong? Weren’t you warm enough? Was the bed too hard or too soft? He grinned wickedly. Were you lonely?

I giggled at his expression before replying, Everything was fine, Spook. I just don’t sleep as well in a strange bed. He raised an eyebrow, knowing there was more to it than that. I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. Okay, and I had a weird dream.

He took a bite of cereal and shook his head. You and your dreams. What did you dream about this time?

I can’t really remember now, I lied. It was just a lot of things all jumbled together. Probably a combination of the news about my job and the rough trip up here getting to me. You know those things come out in your subconscious when you sleep.

He chuckled. Says the woman who just told me she’s not a psychologist. When I attempted to give him a dirty look, he laughed. You’re probably right. Although the only time you seem to have vivid dreams is when you’re ghost hunting. He gave me the stink eye and let his spoon drop, pretending to be jealous. You haven’t been ghost hunting with another man, have you?

I couldn’t help laughing, both at his expression and his accusation. No, I haven’t been ghost hunting, I responded, reaching up to wipe a drop of milk from his beard. I really haven’t been inclined to do that since...the last time.

He laughed ruefully and looked at me sharply. I second that, Kyr m’dear. Obviously, both of us had lost much of the desire to investigate the paranormal.

CHAPTER THREE

"ARE YOU ABOUT ready to leave? Spook asked, getting a heavy black leather coat out of the closet by the front door and putting it on. It takes about forty minutes to get to my parents’ house."

As soon as I get the desserts out, I responded hurriedly, as I slid the cake carrier out of the refrigerator and set it on the table while I went to the closet to grab my coat. Spook already had it in his hands, and he smiled tenderly at me as he helped me put it on. I smiled back at him and said softly, How chivalrous of you. I could get used to this.

His tender smile turned into a delighted grin. Well, it’s nice to have someone who appreciates the gesture. As he leaned down to kiss me, I found myself wondering about his comment. I was about to ask him about it when he pulled his keys out of his pocket and urged, Well, let’s roll.

After I set the cake carrier securely on the back seat and got settled in the front seat, Spook put the keys in the ignition and turned to me with a wicked grin. Are you ready to brave the Steele household?

Not to be intimidated, I raised my chin and smirked at him. I already know you, so how bad can your parents be?

Spook raised an eyebrow and replied mysteriously, Well, you know, I had to get my personality from somewhere. He started the car, and we headed out. People do say I’m a lot like my father.

The sparkle in his eyes took away a little of my nerve, but I tried to keep the upper hand. Then I guess I’ll be spending most of the day with your mother. He chuckled and stopped at the stop sign at the end of the street before turning left to head towards the opposite end of town. Suddenly curious, I ventured, So, what have you told your parents about me?

He laughed out loud, making me more nervous than I already was. Glancing at me with a wicked gleam in his eye, he responded, Well, I told them you’re an adorable red-headed librarian who has a klutzy streak a mile wide and who tries to pretend she’s not afraid of her own shadow. I narrowed my eyes at him as I felt my face reddening. I certainly hoped he was kidding, but with Spook, who knew? As he looked my way again, he added, And I told them you have the cutest perpetual blush.

Spook, you’re such a dork, I muttered, half amused, half irritated at the way he always teased me about my tendency to blush. When he grinned at me, I let out a frustrated huff and turned away from him, taking in the neighborhoods as we passed. There was still a coating of snow on the ground, giving everything a festive appearance.

He chuckled and reached over to grab my hand. He brought it to his lips for a second before saying contritely, Don’t worry, Kyr. I didn’t tell them all your secrets. When I glanced over at him, he continued seriously, I told them you were sweet, beautiful, intelligent, and the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.

Tears sprang to my eyes at his words, and I swallowed the lump in my throat before answering, Spook, you’re too much. I looked down at my lap and then back up at him. So, what are your parents really like?

Oh, Kyr, I think you’ll love them, he answered honestly. My mom is a lot like your Aunt Julia; she’s really nurturing and loves cooking and taking care of the house. And me, he added sheepishly. So I was right about that assessment. And like I hinted, Dad is a lot like me, or rather, I’m a lot like him. He’s a hard worker, but he loves to have fun too.

I couldn’t help wondering if his dad had an over-protective streak as well, but I didn’t ask. Instead, I timidly asked what was weighing heavily on my mind. Do you...do you think they’ll approve of me?

Spook came to a stop at a red light and turned to me. Kyr, he began softly. "How could they not approve of you? You’re a wonderful woman; I’ve told you that before. Besides... The light turned green, and he started moving again. Besides, after Erin... His expression as he spoke his ex-wife’s name was one of disgust. Anyone would be an improvement over her. He immediately smacked his forehead and apologized, I’m sorry, Kyr, that sounded...horrible. I mean, there’s no comparison between you and her; you’re..."

I giggled at his discomfort; I wasn’t used to him putting his foot in his mouth like that. It’s okay, Spook, I assured him. I knew what you meant. He returned my look gratefully, but obviously still kicking himself. I admitted my own insecurity. I just have a thing about feeling like I don’t measure up.

There’s nothing to measure up to, Kyr. Just be yourself, and they’ll love you, he urged. Just like I do.

We drove in silence for a while, and I looked around, taking in the scenery as we passed. A few farms dotted the landscape before we began seeing more residential areas, some of which contained very pretentious houses.

My imagination took over, and I envisioned the Steeles living in one of those monstrosities. Just the thought of tracking mud onto plush white carpets or breaking an heirloom crystal goblet at dinner made my stomach churn with anxiety. I leaned my head back against the headrest and prayed that my inner klutz would remain dormant for the duration of our visit.

Almost there, he said, smiling at me as he turned off the main road into a housing development. I looked around at the houses, relieved to see homes that looked like the one I had grown up in, and not the million-dollar mansions I’d envisioned. Obviously reading my thoughts, Spook assured me, Don’t worry, Kyr. My folks are down-to-earth people who live in a down-to-earth house. You’ll see. We pulled up in front of a cozy-looking bi-level with light blue siding. Here we are, he said, pulling into the driveway beside a silver Subaru.

An autumn-themed Welcome flag waved in the breeze over the garage door, and the front yard was well-kept but not overly-manicured and fussy. A single young maple tree stood at the side of the yard, a circle of leaves littering the snow-coated grass around it. The front porch was lined with an alternating line of small, neatly-trimmed evergreen bushes and large, blue gazing balls. At the sight of those gazing balls, my peace was shattered as I was seized by an inexplicable sense of panic. I shook my head to rid myself of the unnerving sensation.

Oblivious to what I’d just experienced, Spook turned to me to ask, Are you ready to go inside?

Sure, I said faintly. We got out of the car and walked slowly up to the front door. Just as Spook reached for the doorknob, a sudden gust of wind hit me from behind, blowing my hair askew and carrying with it what seemed to me to be a voice calling my name. As I looked around wildly trying to find who had spoken, something in one of the gazing balls caught my attention. A face I didn’t recognize stared out from the blue glass. It was gone before I could properly focus on it, and I tried to tell myself it was just a trick of the light.

"Don’t sweat it,