Ever Bound (17 page)

* * * *

“And you’ve never heard of her?” Mama and I eyed the letterhead, the address, and the body of the letter.

“Nope. She’s no long-lost relative of mine.” Mama scanned from over my shoulder. “But it has a legal letterhead, and it appears real.”

“If it’s too good to be true, then it probably is.” I tossed the letter to the center of the chipped Formica table along with the enclosed plane ticket.

“She might be leaving you a million dollars.” Mama smirked as she shoved a sandwich, a banana, and a bottle of water in a lunchbox.

“Or it’s an elaborate sorority prank.”

“You know, I always thought you were meant for more than this.” Her gaze darted toward Daddy as her voice dropped to a whisper. “It may be a case of mistaken identity, and even if the woman leaves you her most valuable cross-stitched quilt, it’s a trip you’ve never taken before. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Never say that when someone is about to board a plane.”

“That’s my girl.” Mama kissed my forehead. “Now I can’t be late, or I’ll be fired.”

“Love you.”

The screen door slammed behind her.

According to the letter, a video of the deceased reading her will would be shown at the funeral. Apparently, she wanted me to witness it.

A few days later, I boarded a plane to Nashville, Tennessee.

* * * *

A cold, murky thickness surrounded me. Seconds felt like minutes, and my lungs burned under the water.

Mud suctioned against my feet as I trudged forward.

Through the frothy murk, a rectangular box emerged, a casket of rotting wood and rusted latches embedded in green sludge.

My heart did a staccato against my chest, and my lungs burned deeper. My hands grabbed the wooden hatch on the coffin, and the latches broke free.

I pushed the lid upward, and the corpse’s hair lifted with the current. Through the settling hair, leathery gray skin stretched across a deformed skull.

My feet were trapped in mud. Though observing the most horrifying thing I’d ever seen, I couldn’t swim away. A large rock pinned down a decomposing corpse in a long white dress.

My hair tangled around my face as my hands pulled the rock from the box. With a steady jerk, they severed what was left of the rope preventing the body’s escape. I willed my hands to stop, but they wouldn’t.

I shook my head frantically.

The hands that had disobeyed me weren’t mine.

I tried to push up from the bottom of the watery grave, but a force too strong to fight compelled me to stand erect, motionless.

The hands reattached themselves to the forearms of the corpse. Skin and tendons snaked together and pulsated to create unity. The fingers wiggled as the corpse tried them on. The long slender fingers grasped the side of the coffin.

A sucking, popping noise pulsated from the corpse’s neck as it turned its head toward me. The eyelids popped open, revealing large yellowed orbs with white irises.

Thin leathery bands of flesh stretched back into a leering smile.

The rotting corpse rose from the bottom of the coffin with stiff jerky movements. Her face changed and death fell away, little by little, but not enough. She still looked like a dead girl, but she had been beautiful in life. Her skeletal cheekbones became covered in whitish-blue skin, and her eyes blacked out, hollow.

She no longer had difficulty moving through the water.

Propelling myself backward, I stumbled, and my bottom hit the muck. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound escaped. Dirty water filled my mouth, gagging me. I yanked free of the impossible suction.

She leaned in toward me with her arms outstretched.

With all I had, I flailed against the water to get away.

Under the black depths, a voice that could only be hers blasted through my skull as I reached for the surface. “You have something that belongs to me.”

My fingers scraped against the rough embankment, and jagged rocks cut into my knees. Grass and tree roots gave me anchor as I dug my way out of the pond. I gasped and coughed until I caught my breath. Behind me, the corpse stood motionless at the water’s edge, eyes now black and expressionless.

When I turned to run, a guy with no face appeared. He was the same sweet guy from all my recurring dreams, but this time he was desperate.

“I never belonged to her,” he said. “You have to forgive me.”

His face shifted in and out, giving me an unclear picture of what he looked like, but bright green eyes shined through the vision.

The landing gear skidded across the pavement.

I jumped awake.

The arms of the plane seats were slick, and my shirt was damp with sweat.

Recurring nightmares had found me any time I closed my eyes since I’d received the letter. I’d liked having only the faceless young man dominating my dreams much better. These made no sense.

No one seemed to notice my abrupt jerk awake. The little bald man on one side of me smiled, and on the other side, the elderly lady’s face pinched in irritation.

Had I drooled on her?

As others gathered their carry-on bags and made their way to the front of the plane, I wobbled to the restroom. A refreshing towelette, one of the first class amenities, wiped away the dream’s after effects, though sleep deprivation had set purple circles under my eyes.

Outside the airport, the sign-holder bearing my name wore a suit and a captain’s hat, and he stood next to a long stretch limo. Everyone around me gawked at the huge car and whispered. A few people pulled out cameras.

With my head down, I made my way through the crowd toward him.

“Miss Knowles?” the man said.

“Um, that would be me.”

“Jensen.” He bowed. As soon as he opened the door to the car, the first camera flashed.

Poor fool.

I was a nobody.

Jensen offered his hand to assist me into the limo.

The door shut on the faces of people who peered in at me, wondering who I was. I sank into the soft leather with a sigh of relief.

* * * *

The long limo took a left onto Rolling Hills Drive. It twisted and wound around the countryside for miles. The road narrowed so that another passing car wouldn’t have fit. Green-leaved branches of hundred-year-old trees armored the road. Clover and an array of wild flowers bordered the lane banks. It was a private little piece of heaven.

The window that separated the driver from the cab of the car was down, and the man peered back every so often.

“It feels like my first day at a new job where everyone knows me, but I don’t know anyone’s name. It’s awkward.”

“You’ll be fine. It won’t be long now.” Jensen gave a friendly smile.

To the right of the car, a black wrought iron fence inlayed with tall shrubs stretched on with no sign of an entrance.

“Yeah, the way gossip travels around the estate, I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone there didn’t know your life history. Ava did her homework, and we have some nosy staff members.” Jensen shifted his gaze between me and the road. “But one thing’s certain. Ava Rollins never made an uninformed decision.”

The gate came into view. I settled back into the comfort of the plush leather seat.

The driver maneuvered the large vehicle to the left into a gated entrance.

On both sides of the car, standing against the backdrop of a blue sky, two black gargoyles stood perched on top of columns made of chiseled rock. Their heads angled toward the entrance, but their suspicious eyes narrowed at me.

Monuments such as these were placed on houses or on gated entrances to ward off evil spirits. The frozen mythical creatures held a certain majestic beauty. The emerald stones in the socket of their eyes were too big to be real.

When the driver rolled his window down, late spring warmth accompanied by freshly cut grass invaded the car. He keyed in a code that slid the gates apart. A camera, nestled amongst the foliage, craned its neck, following us in.

I pulled a small mirror from my purse. Chestnut brown hair framed my tanned face. I had spent long hours helping Mama in the garden over this last week, listening to her hopes and dreams for me. She hoped I’d have more than a life working my fingers to the bone so a drunk could sit at home and vegetate on the couch all day. She wanted the fairytale for me, but those came from only hard work.

Flipping the mirror closed, I shook my head in disgust at the circles under my golden brown eyes. No way to hide those.

I knew that gate from somewhere. It’s curly cue design. I’d seen it.

We rolled past it as something that couldn’t possibly be a memory flashed through my mind—the gate being swung out and held by two people dressed in period clothing as a white carriage passed between them. The image disappeared before it was there.

As we lurched forward, the tree-lined drive blocked the view of the house. The car rolled over the old cobblestone edged by rows of pristine hedges. The car slowed to a crawl.

Limos and extravagant sports cars were nose to bumper, their rims and expensive paint jobs sparkling in the summer sun.

The temporary comfort of tinted windows dissolved.

Though disguised in fine suits and almost ridiculously frivolous dresses and hats, the people traveled toward the house like an infestation of cockroaches toward a known source of food. They all flicked disapproving glances over their shoulders as the driver pulled my car beside them in the same direction.

I sank deeper into the seat.

The driver adjusted his mirror on me. “Don’t let them bother you. They’re a bunch of snobs I’ll be glad to see go when this whole fiasco is over.”

Whoever took care of the grounds certainly did it with love. Every blade of grass had been intricately detailed with scissors, and the geometrically shaped flowerbeds set splashes of colors all over the front lawn.

We rounded a final bend, and the house soared into the sky. From the side, it appeared to have wings. It stood four stories tall. Like the columns at the gate, chiseled stone covered the house. Each one meticulously placed.

A staggering expanse of black framed windows covered the front and sides.

A bay window jutted over the front entrance.

The bright summer sun couldn’t penetrate the menacing deep black eyes of the house on the second, third, and fourth floors.

The driver pulled the car beside the cobblestone walk, opened my door, and offered his hand.

Out of nowhere, a little old man wobbled from behind the tall bushes on the left side of the property. The bowtie on his suit was starched to sharp edges that poked his double chin. He greeted me with a welcoming smile. Time had paved a roadmap of wrinkles across his brows and around his eyes.

A young guy with dark jeans and a shirt that fit him too well came from the front door, bounded down the steps, and headed straight to my trunk. He flashed a mischievous smirk in my direction while he was behind the old man, but when he was in the old man’s view, he straightened into a more serious posture.

“Take Miss Knowles’s things to her room. The master suite on the second floor.” The older man’s tone with the younger man was authoritative.

“Wait, the master suite?” The bellboy’s brow lifted. He ran a nervous hand through his blond locks. He reminded me of a misplaced boy-band member.

“As I said, the master suite on the second floor.” The older man nodded to the front entrance.

“But no one has—”

“I am fully aware of how often each room of the house has hosted company. Please do as I say. And hurry.” The older man glanced toward the back of the house and then to the front entrance again. Now more at ease, he turned his attention back to me. The elderly gentleman had a time-roughened voice. “Thomas Warren, head groundskeeper. Ava called me Thomas, so I hope you’ll do the same. Mr. Warren just reminds me how old I am.”

“Allison Knowles.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance.” He nodded politely, giving my hand a squeeze and returning it.

“I guess I should say I’m sorry for your loss, but to be honest, I didn’t know the deceased, and I’m sure she didn’t know me.”

“Oh, she knew you, my dear. You may have known nothing of her, but no price was too costly to make sure she left none of your secrets buried.” Thomas gave me quick little bow.

“The last few family members could have scared the flies off a shit wagon. Looks like we finally lucked up,” the bellboy said with a country twang and a smirk. He gave me a shameless onceover and winked.

“Dalton Anderson Cobb, mind your manners. I swear, you act like a family of gorillas raised you.” Thomas glared at Dalton.

“Country born, country bred.” Dalton shrugged. He seemed harmless.

Thomas cleared his throat and stiffly turned to me. “Since Ava’s death, everyone has slacked around here. Dalton is no exception. This place has been utter chaos.”

As if on perfect cue, a crash came from the back of the house, and children’s laughter filled the air. Thomas’s handkerchief went to his brow, and he heaved out a labored sigh.

“I pull my weight. To prove it”—Dalton turned to me—“Miss Knowles, if you need anything, day or night, let me know.”

Thomas almost choked. He pointed to the trunk of the limo. “The luggage.”

“Just trying to make her feel at home. You know. Showing some southern hospitality.” Dalton flicked an eyebrow at me from behind Thomas. His flirty smile might have worked with a multitude of screaming prepubescent teens, but I wasn’t game. I’d have to find a nice way to let him know if he continued to flirt.

“Humph. I know your hospitality well. So does every other female employee here. Forgive his rudeness. Ava had a thing for taking in the local strays.”

“I heard that,” Dalton called over his shoulder as he took more bags to a cart he’d pushed from the cement ramp at the front entrance.

Jensen pulled the car around the circular driveway toward a group of outbuildings.

Thomas turned back to me. In his best tour guide voice, he continued, “Now, my dear, let us focus on the front entrance of the house. Ava had guests delivered to the front door, but staff used the side entrance that leads from the garage you see nestled in the trees to your right.”