Deadly Engagement

By Joyce A. Braga

A young adult mystery based in Charleston, The story is about two teenagers and their coming of age experiences in South Carolina. Two girls encounter a ghost while planning an engagement party at an on a Southern Plantation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781543981971

Book preview

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CHAPTER ONE

Backpack dragging, Rebecca stood reluctantly on the front step of the massive old plantation house. With the force of her annoyance, she slammed the doorknocker so hard the teeth of the lion’s head knocker seemed to rattle. No answer. The house seemed empty. Where was Aunt Isabelle? Her father claimed he needed her so desperately. She expected a big welcome. Surprisingly, when she turned the knob, the door opened. That was odd. Why wasn’t it locked?

Pushing her backpack into the hall with her foot, she looked down a massive long hall. Calling loudly, Aunt Isabelle, her voice echoed. Rushing home, she had thrown things from the dorm floor into her bag. Bending down, she fished through the pack looking for her cell phone. Let’s just see what excuse Max has now. Spotting her cell phone entangled in her panties, she heard a noise. Instantly alert, she listened. Someone was in the ballroom.

Walking towards the familiar room, she whispered for her aunt. The response was a very faint, a rustling sound. Curious, she scanned the room. Chairs were pushed back up against the wall, the piano was sitting at an angle and a huge floor polisher was near the far wall. It all seemed familiar even though Rebecca hadn’t stepped foot into the house since the fire that killed Bethany. That was two years ago, it seemed like yesterday.

The huge drapes covering the French door to the back yard hung haphazardly. Squinting, she could see the charred frame of the Gazebo still out on the lawn. It marked the ground like a graveyard monument. It was gruesome. Surely, her father would repair that before his party. A smoky smell still lingered in the room. Enough, her imagination was working overtime. Feeling goose bumps on her bare arms, Rebecca turned to leave the room.

Shivering, she walked towards the door. Why was the room so cold? Rebecca knew the temperature outside was hot and humid, South Carolina was Lowcountry. Turning to leave, she felt a draft that seemed to sweep its way along the floor of the ballroom. Bam! The door slammed shut. Very gently, the feel of a silky hand touched her neck. Anxiety made her tremble and sweat. Too terrified to turn around, she frantically pulled hard on the brass doorknob. Her sweaty hands slipped. It was locked. Pounding on the door she heard herself, screaming, Isabelle. Someone moaned deeply into her ear. It sounded like wind rushing through the marsh grass. It whispered Becca. Someone was behind her. She felt pressure on her back. Lifting her arm to bang on the door again, the silky touch turned into a grip on her shoulder. Was it a person trying to stop her, or hurt her? The aroma of jasmine masked the smoky smell. That did it. Feeling her scream choked out by sobs, Rebecca let herself go and slumped to the floor.

The ballroom door flew open. She saw her aunt’s feet. Her eyes went up her aunt’s petite frame. A flip phone was clutched in her hand. Isabelle said, all in one breath, What in the world is going on here? Are you injured? Should I dial 911? Say something.

Gulping, Rebecca pulled herself up to her full sixty-eight inches. Relief flooded her body. Never had her aunt looked so good. Aunt Isabelle…I; then she blurted out, Something touched my neck. Rebecca watched her aunt scan the room.

Looking around Isabelle said, There’s no one in there. You’re scaring me to death. What’s wrong with you?

Wrong? Everything is wrong. I’m here against my will. Suddenly the weight of the last few days overwhelmed her. There was high school graduation, college acceptance, and now family duty angst.

Here against your will? Isabelle practically spit. You are the most dramatic child I have ever met. Well, drama might work with your uncle, but it won’t with me.

Whoa, this was not the reaction Rebecca expected. I’m sorry. You’re being unfair. It took two days for me to come to grips with this. You know Max didn’t care about my feelings. All he said was Uncle John left unexpectedly on an emergency business trip and you needed me. She took a deep breath pushing back the tears, and continued, To help with the party for Max’s new fiancée.

Isabelle, hand on her hips, said, Oh please spare me. I’m not going to be responsible for your hysterics.

My hysterics, what did you expect? My first time back, and no sooner do I walk in the door then someone scares me, Rebecca said softly. If you had been there to greet me, I wouldn’t have been poking around. Rebecca stopped. She didn’t like the look on her aunt’s face. She’d seen those stormy gray eyes before, and it always preceded her aunt getting very angry.

What scared you, a person? Isabelle sneered.

I didn’t see anything. It must have disappeared when I fainted. Her heart was pounding so hard, Rebecca felt breathless.

Her aunt snapped her phone shut and clasped it in her bony palm. Disappeared in thin air? Look around. Do you see anything? The door is not locked now. Isabelle’s voice was so shrill Rebecca wanted to hold her hands over her ears.

I don’t hear anyone in the house now, but there was something. Rebecca ran her fingers through her hair. Her hands were shaking.

Isabelle made a snorting sound, which signaled her disapproval. This is just what I need. Come outside to the back porch and get some air. I thought you were here to help.

Rebecca shook her blond hair, still feeling a soft hand on her neck. Trying to steady her hand, she said, So did I until this happened. It was almost surreal. Rebecca felt like she was floating way up into the light blue porch ceiling. Just a few moments ago, she’d encountered something that scared her to the soles of her feet. If Isabelle hadn’t come, what would it have done to her? Worse, was it still here? What happened?

Pursing her small thin lips, Isabelle sounded worried. This isn’t an auspicious start. You get yourself locked in the ballroom, and the noise you made could have awakened the dead. Worse, you could have hurt yourself. Then you wouldn’t be any help.

Settling into one of the weathered wicker chair, Isabelle pointed to a sweaty aluminum pitcher. Isabelle said, Pour yourself some iced tea. I still don’t know why you went in there.

I heard something. I thought it was you. Looking out towards the marsh she said, It whispered something. Why? It didn’t make any sense. Rebecca felt her aunt’s eyes on her. Thick framed glasses on her nose, she stared up and down Rebecca’s boyish body. She knew she was disapproving of her skimpy tank top, and short khaki skirt.

A voice in my house? Stop that nonsense. Things don’t walk, talk, and disappear, Isabelle muttered. I’m going to call Max right away.

Was that a threat? Rebecca couldn’t believe her lack of compassion. Yes, you’ve always enjoyed telling on me. Tell him the house is haunted.

Isabelle’s voice went one octave higher. Haunted? Your father and I grew up in this house. We never saw any ghosts.

Rebecca felt scared. Oh great, something new. Maybe another party in that room is not a good idea. Did you ever think of that? Rebecca shocked herself. She usually didn’t talk back.

Isabelle was very displeased. I’m not emotionless. Yes, I thought it was a little strange at first.

If that’s so, why go ahead with it? Rebecca wondered, instead, she said, Have you heard from Uncle John?

Isabelle’s hand went to her thin, straight brown hair, which just brushed the edge of her collar. Pushing it off her forehead, and looking off into the distance, she answered almost to herself, Not yet. Remember the time difference in England. Pausing she continued, He’ll text me when he’s settled.

Rebecca shook her head sadly, I missed him at graduation.

Isabelle got a very stern look on her face, Yes, it’s always been obvious who is your favorite person. You’ve caused me enough of an upset for today. Go upstairs and calm down. Make a decision as to whether or not you can stay here and be of some help. We’ll discuss the parties later this evening. Abruptly, she got up, picked up her moth-eaten sweater, and turned towards the library.

Oh boy, this wasn’t going well. It’s either because Rebecca was here, or her aunt being her usual difficult self. No wonder she felt closer to her uncle. Just because she was upset about Uncle John, didn’t give Isabelle the right to take it out on her. Couldn’t the woman tell she needed comforting, not sternness? Instead, Isabelle was now talking about parties. What parties? I only agreed to help with one party. Rebecca was talking to her aunt’s back."

Her aunt didn’t have the courtesy to stop. I need to get back to the library and get to work.

You expect me to just casually act as if nothing happened? Rebecca could feel the panic cramp her stomach.

Yes, because nothing happened, Isabelle said flippantly.

Talk about rude. Jumping up, Rebecca tried following Isabelle down the hall. She saw the heavy library door close. The key turned making a loud rasping sound. Rebecca thought, why lock me out? Taking a deep breath, Rebecca turned back to the main hallway. Both doors to the dining room and the front parlor were closed. The ballroom was to her right. To get upstairs, the ballroom would be behind her.

Hustling up the stairs, she felt the hair rise on her neck. Someone was watching her. Panic hit. Dashing up the steps, her toe caught on one of the brass rails holding an Oriental rug runner. She skidded around onto the second floor landing. The thick walls of Rose Hill seemed to pulse from ancient cold. The house echoed from emptiness.

Upstairs, the hall went to the right. Rebecca looked down a long shadowy hall. See saw six closed doors. Something could be hiding.

Luckily, the Rose Hill house was small by plantation standards. Years of neglect and fires had taken their toll. Gingerly she opened the first door. This was to be her bedroom. She cringed as she entered, pausing before she put down her backpack.

Nothing seemed out of place. Nervously, Rebecca perched on the edge of the old plantation rice poster bed. Her legs dangled down; and not caring if the cheap cords of the chenille bedspread were leaving ridges on her tanned legs. Hang her aunt. Her sandals were staying on. Ready for a fast exit, and shivering, Rebecca felt her thoughts tumble out of control. Who, why and what had just happened?

Quickly she got up, and moved to the door while pushing a chair up against the doorknob. Would that work?

Wait a minute. Why was she staying? Surely, her father would understand. I’m being silly. A chair is no use against the unseen. Her skin felt prickly. Why was she thinking spirits? Ghosts could just come through a door, couldn’t they? Stop that, you’re scaring yourself, she thought. Maybe someone was playing a joke on her. Aunt Isabelle didn’t seem to care.

Shaking her head, she tried to force the images away. They weren’t leaving her mind. Wandering over to the window, she firmly flicked shut the brass locks on the shutters. This window overlooked the backyard, and the charred frame of the Gazebo. Her first thought was to tell Uncle John there was still a smoky smell in the ballroom. But he wasn’t here.

Hugging a thin pillow, she wished Uncle John were here. She missed his fussing. Right now, they would be downstairs making a sandwich. He’d laugh at her scare, or maybe he’d believe her. Unpack, she told herself. Do something. Her bag was a tangled mess. She tipped the contents into the top drawer of her dresser, and smoothed out her clothes. Pushing the bag in the closet, she heard a tremendous crash downstairs. What was that?

Tiptoeing downstairs, and avoiding the ballroom, Rebecca moved into the kitchen. Someone was crawling on the floor right towards her feet. Holding the cellphone as a weapon, Rebecca screamed.

A woman leaped up, apple in hand, Rebecca?

Francine? Rebecca suddenly recognized the familiar face and tight leggings with a full tunic top.

Lordy you scared me. I dropped the groceries. Sorry I scared you.

It’s okay. I didn’t expect you.

Humph. Wouldn’t be here if Ms. Isabelle hadn’t come crying; needs me one more time to help stock the house. I have a list of names you’ll need to call.

Reading out loud, Rebecca said, Caterers, florists, party favors, and liquor. I’ve never planned an event in my life. My aunt should be doing half of this. She can’t expect me to do it all, Rebecca said, putting a bag of coffee on the upper pantry shelf.

Don’t be too sure. Francine got close, and Rebecca could see new wrinkles around her eyes. Between us, I think she’s floundering without your uncle here. It’s harder than she expected. He always did the events.

Shuffling to the sink, Francine continued, Isabelle needs that checklist. I had to help her put it together. I guess she forgot to tell you I was coming today?

I’m a little disoriented. Were you here earlier? Rebecca asked.

Nope, I’m retired now, and just got here. She’s not replacing me. I’ll only be here for this one dinner party. Look at you. You look like you could use some help. No disrespect, but, I’d think this must be hard for you too.

Rebecca felt herself nodding her head, It’s harder than I thought. I was pretty close to Bethany. They dated for five years, remember?

Francine changed the subject quickly. It’s going to be more of a party than a dinner isn’t it? I’m talking about the one tomorrow night.

I’m talking about the one in three weeks, Rebecca countered.

Francine shook her head. Dinner party first, then another to announce their engagement.

Two? The mention of a dinner party snapped loose memories of Bethany. It was as if someone had switched on an old movie in her mind. Rebecca felt like she couldn’t stop the images as they began to swirl. The one thing she wanted to avoid was thoughts of how Bethany looked when she laughed or smiled as she and Max planned their wedding. Bethany had been lively, full of energy. She had talked with her hands. Rebecca’s stomach did a flip-flop. Get a grip. Don’t cry in front of Francine, she cautioned herself, and don’t mention your scare.

Francine was standing very close to her. You need to take a deep breath. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Life has gone on in this house since Bethany died. You know Isabelle and John have begun entertaining more in the past year.

Trying to get her composure Rebecca said, I know. I’m okay. I wasn’t thinking. I’m just surprised Max would want two parties. I thought one was enough.

Hmm, you’d have to ask your father. It might be your aunt’s idea, Francine said. Are you still okay?

Rebecca gave Francine a quick little hug. I’m fine. Will you call me for dinner?

Francine looked pained, Isabelle didn’t tell you? I don’t cook any longer. Isabelle takes care of her own cooking. I just picked up groceries. You’ll probably need more. Don’t worry, the dinner party is catered. You’ll have to talk to them about the dance in the ballroom.

A dance too? I should have guessed there would be music, Rebecca said.

Nothing over the top, the caterers know some local people, Francine eased Rebecca’s concern.

What about that remaining bit of charred Gazebo frame outside? The lawn around it needs reseeding too, asked Rebecca.

Your uncle was going to take care of it. He wants to save what he can of the Gazebo. You know he’s such a stickler about saving stuff for future renovations.

Rebecca nodded. She knew her uncle worked for the local historical society. He also worked on a book about the local Underground Railroad active during the Civil War. I can’t see him going to England and leaving this.

Francine shrugged, My husband tried to get some landscapers in, but no one wants to touch it. They said nothing would grow in that patch of ground. They think it’s haunted.

Shivers ran up Rebecca’s back. Haunted?

Francine was curious. You look like you’re going to faint. What aren’t you telling me?

Shaking her head, Rebecca said, Nothing, I just didn’t know anything was haunting this house.

Hah, nothing haunted in this house. Isabelle told you that, right? You know your Uncle John sponsors tours of the Underground Railroad tunnels here. He’s always hinting at ghosts. Your aunt hates it.

CHAPTER TWO

Groggy, Rebecca awoke. The house was dark and quiet. What time was it? She turned her cell phone over. She was still lying on the bedspread. It was just 10 p.m. Great, there was still an entire night to get through. It felt odd. She had been so used to sharing a room at school. There always was food in the room. She missed school and her friends. Her stomach was growling. The coffee she had brought upstairs was now cold. When had she eaten last, breakfast?

Gingerly, she got up and checked the mirror. Her normally tanned skin seemed whiter. There were dark circles under her blue eyes. Putting on her sandals, she padded down the steps. Just as she got to the bottom step, she froze. The ballroom door was open. Her neck tingled where she’d been touched. Rebecca swayed; she grabbed the banister to steady herself.

Why wasn’t Max here? She didn’t know. Why didn’t he call? Was he next door with Anna Lee at Templeton Manor? The door to her Aunt Isabelle’s office was closed. She thought about knocking, and then remembered her cold attitude.

Anxiously, she moved towards the kitchen. It was dark. Opening the refrigerator, the light cast a dim glow over the old black and white floor tiles. The freezer yielded up row upon row of stacked frozen foods. She grabbed a chicken potpie. Popping it into the microwave, she poured herself a glass of milk. Tipping the pie out onto a chipped, blue-rimmed plate, she realized her hands were no longer shaking. Routines always helped steady her. The smell of chicken gravy filled the kitchen. It wouldn’t budge her aunt. Fine, she’d eat alone on the screened in porch, the best place in the house. Automatically, she flicked on the outdoor fan and felt the warm humid air begin to churn.

The porch was a wondrous place. Settling into a massive old white wicker sofa, knees curled under, Rebecca let the sound of the marsh fill her brain. Egrets squawked. Frogs croaked. It was so relaxing. Life was going to be good once this party chore was over.

Rebecca could see a full moon rising high over the back yard. It caused strange dark shadows. One shadow was directly over the scorched Gazebo lawn area. Great, how was she going to forget that awful accident? She stopped mid-swallow. What was that? Almost choking, she put her plate down.

Something was glowing. Rebecca felt the hair rising on her neck. Peering out, she saw small wispy plumes of smoke. Was there a fireplace lit in the house? The air stank of stale ashes. The glow seemed to be moving. It was getting closer and closer to the porch screen. Rebecca felt herself backing up. She knocked her plate onto the floor. Then she bumped into a wicker chair, sending it head over teacups. Was this what had touched her neck? Why was it now outside? Would it come through the screen?

Leaning over the chair, she used it as a shield and looked out of the corner of her eye. Whatever it was had melted away into the darkness. Goose bumps rose on her thin arms. Childishly, she squeezed her eyes shut tight chanting, Stop, please stop. The whispery sound of Rebecca echoed around her.

The smoky smell was replaced by the overpowering scent of jasmine. Hands shaking, and wet with perspiration, she clenched and unclenched