His Haunted Heart (11 page)

My chest moved up and down with humiliating force with every word. “I can’t listen to any more.” I wrenched my hand from his and walked over to the window, the rain knocking on the panes, wanting a way in.

“Delilah, you have to listen, love. Please, listen to me. I need you to know.”

His chin rested upon the top of my head, bobbing with every sentiment. His chest rumbled against my shoulders as he spoke. It was as though he’d taken me into every concave of his stature. I felt secure.

“I’m listening.”

“I went to your home that day as a man wanting to set a captive free. Anyone could see that your father was desperate, and I couldn’t imagine a young woman in the hands of the rest of those miscreants.”

Porter slid his hands down my arms, ending by threading his fingers through mine. This was not the story I’d imagined. It was far worse. After a few moments of silence, I nodded just to let him know that he could continue.

“I went into your home and…”

I turned my head a bit. “Be honest, Porter. You can’t say anything to offend me. I lived there.”

“So true.” He chuckled and kissed my head. “It was filthy. It stank. I instantly pitied anyone whose family chose to live like that. Then you came down the stairs. Your mother was holding a candle. Its light reflected on your eyes just so—I thought I was hallucinating. Then I saw the scar and the way your father talked about you. You were so thin—so frail. Yet their words didn’t seem to have any effect on you. I wanted you for my own. I was selfish. I should’ve let you go. I know I’m not the kind of man you probably wanted.”

I turned and gripped his waist with my face pressed against his chest. “I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want.”

He placed his finger beneath my chin and tipped my face upward. “There’s no pity anymore, Delilah. It has been replaced by love.”

I saw the look in his eyes. Even if a girl has never been kissed, the look in a man’s eyes when his mind is set on kissing you is inherent, like it’s coded into our brains from birth. It was the look on Porter’s face.

There were no defenses in my arsenal to stop him—and I had no want to.

“Can I kiss you, wife?”

“Yes.”

The first touch of his mouth was warm. His lips were softer than I’d expected, warmer than a thousand sunrises. Bristling heat moved across my face and down my neck with every stroke of my lips against his. My body swayed into his and he caught me without ever breaking our connection.

It was one thing to hear that someone loved you, but to feel it in their embrace was another altogether.

It was a kiss that wove two people together.

I was no judge of a kiss—but there were no other competitors next to Porter.

“I’ve been waiting to do that forever.”

Smiling, I swatted his shoulder. “We’ve been married less than a week.”

“If I’d known it would be like that, I wouldn’t have waited less than a minute.”

I sighed and fell against him again in awe.

How did I get so lucky?

“Do you want to have dessert downstairs? My mother is a little worried about you.”

“Sure. She’s very kind to me. Like a real mother.”

He picked up the tray with our unfinished dinner and turned. “You’re happy here?”

“Yes. Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Chapter Ten

Porter

I paced the office in the middle of the night, plowing through the events of the past few days. I didn’t know what to make of it.

Yes, Marie was a bothersome girl when she was alive.

But in death, she hadn’t ever bothered me, only appearing here and there in awkward spaces—always silent.

Delilah had been through so much in her life. She knew the truth of things and wasn’t one of these women who created drama out of boredom.

If she said she saw something in the water, then she did.

I picked up a letter that must’ve come in during the day. There was an issue at one of the banks I owned and my presence was mandatory. I had to leave the day after next.

Instead of wanting to run from a woman like I did Marie, I wanted to cling to Delilah.

I sat down and rested my head in my hands. I’d tried to love Marie, I had.

It wasn’t enough in the end. That’s why she haunted me.

Ultimately, my lack of love had been her demise.

~~

“Good morning.” Delilah stuck her head around the corner into my office. “Why the face?”

“It’s the only one I have.”

I sighed. “You know what I mean. Is something the matter?”

A bell rang in the distance. It was June letting everyone know that breakfast was ready.

“Why don’t you go eat breakfast and then we will talk.”

She didn’t look pleased with my suggestion.

“Why don’t you come sit with us while we eat? It will do you good to get out of this office. You’ve been here all night.”

“Come here, Delilah.” She walked over, the swish of her skirt the only thing I could hear. When she reached the desk, she paused. “Sit here in front of me. I want to see you.”

She ran her fingers down her nose in that gesture I’d come to love as much as her. She was showing her shyness.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“I have to know something. Have you kissed another man before?”

Her whole body tensed. Her gaze darted around the room to anything other than my face.

“Once, a boy kissed me on the playground. I was five.”

I laughed and rested my weary head on her legs, wrapping my arms around them. She ran her hands through my hair and I thought if there was a heaven, it was there under the care of my wife.

“I’ve never been kissed like that. Not ever. Was—was it okay?”

“It was perfect.”

“Then why did you need to know?”

I shrugged and confessed, “For my own well-being—nothing more.”

“Come eat with me. You look so tired.”

“If you insist.”

She was right. The laughter and boasting at my table was more fun than I’d had in a while, other than delighting in my new wife. I actually ate breakfast for the first time in a long time until I remembered that I had to break my promise to stay with Delilah for a week.

“Can we talk for a moment?” I asked her with my hand on her elbow.

“Yes. Can we go outside?”

“Sure.”

We walked outside to the porch, choosing rocking chairs next to each other. I reveled in the moment for a second, happy that finally someone was by my side.

“I have to leave tomorrow. Just for a day.”

I reached for her hand.

“I understand. You’ll be back tomorrow night?”

“I hope so. I will do my best.”

Delilah grew quiet beside me. I had disappointed her again. Everything she’d been through and I was abandoning her.

At the same time, I had to support her. She deserved this life—to be spoiled.

Out of nowhere she laughed a little and then covered her mouth.

“What is funny?”

“Your mother mentioned me learning to embroider like she does. I tried once. I sewed my skirt to the fabric I was working on. I was so proud of that little daisy until I realized it was sewn to me. That was my first and last lesson in embroidering.”

I wonder if she’d shared that story with anyone before. I doubted it.

“You could always help me.” My voice intonated as though I’d asked a question.

“You’d let me?”

“Of course. We’ll look over everything later. It will keep you busy that way you won’t have time to pine after me the entire day.”

I froze as Delilah turned on me, the look in her eyes burned my skin. “I don’t think anyone or anything could keep me from pining for you all day. I may as well just sleep the day through to save myself the torture.”

My breath was still held. It was a bold declaration, and so out of character.

And then she broke out in a fit of laughter.

“You were joking? That’s fine. I see how you feel.” I crossed my arms and looked in the opposite direction, willing my mouth not to smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Porter. I was just kidding.” She sighed and I let her stew a minute before turning to her with a broad smile on my face.

“You are horrible, Porter Jeansonne!”

“I didn’t know you were capable of such blatant sarcasm, Mrs. Jeansonne. Shame on you.”

She sobered, but stayed smiling, biting her lip. “I didn’t either.”

Chapter Eleven

Delilah

Most of the day came and went in a blur. Porter’s office was a mess. I’d straightened everything and organized some of his things. There was a wooden box stuffed into his drawer. It was so ornately designed that I removed it and placed it on his bookshelf, replacing the ghastly unshuffled papers. He had pens scattered in every cranny. For a man that had it all together, he was completely unorganized.

By the afternoon, I was tired of being cooped up. June and Eliza took a trip to town to get groceries and other things for the house and I’d opted to stay home. I didn’t want to run into my family without Porter.

I grabbed my long coat and went out toward the back. The sun threatened to come over the trees, but like any other day, it shied away from this place. Like there was an invisible border over Jeansonne Manor that halted its rise in the sky.

Drawing in a deep breath, I tromped down the stairs. My shoes squished into the damp grass from the prior day’s rain, but I was determined to get some fresh air. Jeansonne Manor sat in the middle of the swamp, like its own island. There was a bridge that led from the land to the road to the town. Porter had told me there was another bridge on the back of the property that led to the outside cities.

I followed the path of rocks to the pond and crept up on it, cautious of what lay beneath the still water. I hadn’t seen or heard anything since the day at the pond. I’d prayed day and night that the incident was the end of whatever torment the woman had to dole out.

“This is where she died.” A gravelly voice interrupted my stare. To my left was Rebel, dressed in pants and a grimy shirt with suspenders over it. His boots were worn over his pants and they were a tell-tale sign of his employment. He was too close to me. I could feel the heat of his body radiating off of him in waves.

“Who?”

He chuckled; the sound of it twisted my gut. I squirmed in place, off-put by his crassness.

“What a shame. A new wife that knows nothing about the manor she is mistress over. You’ve a lot to learn. I’m sure Porter has been teaching you many things.”

I was tangled in Rebel’s web. Porter had secrets. Rebel knew what they were. But the atmosphere soured when he was around. I didn’t wish to spend one more minute around him.

Anger consumed me at the audacity of this man. He claimed to know things but taunted me with them.

“Just tell me who died here.”

He shoved a hand into his shirt where he fondled something that hung around his neck. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he continued to ignore me.

“Delilah? Oh, there you are child. Come inside, we’ve got things to unpack.”

Eliza called to me from the house but I hadn’t gotten any information out of the man who made my skin crawl.

“Excuse me,” I said, wondering why I wasted manners on someone who obviously had none.

“Delilah, one thing.”

I turned with one fist pressed on my hip.

“Ask Porter about Marie.”

With a roll of my eyes, I stalked into the house, unfazed by his attempted meddling.

I helped June and Eliza put the groceries away. I didn’t understand the gall of that man—Rebel-- butting into my business when all I’d wanted to do was stare blankly at the land and take a walk.

He was always around when Porter wasn’t.

When I was a child, I cried at all the time I’d had by myself with no one to confide in and no one to play with. And now as an adult, married and thrust into a life that would make anyone else faint with bliss—all I wanted in the world was a moment of peace.

Porter knew about the ghost. He knew what she’d done to me. She’d attacked me. If I’d let her, I would bet she would’ve dragged me down in the water with her.

“Delilah, maybe you should go rest or have some tea.”

I ticked my eyes over to Eliza. “Why?”

“Because we need those carrots.”

I’d been wringing the carrots together like they were a sopping washcloth. The poor things were nearly shredded.

“I’m sorry. I’m a little high strung today. I’m going to the library. Maybe a book would calm me down.”

They looked on me like I was a stranded puppy.

I may have been stranded, but I wasn’t pathetic.

Clumsily, I slid down to the floor in the library after shutting the door behind me. Concentrating on my breaths, I made an attempt at calming down. The library was quite possibly the most beautiful room in the house. It even beat the bedroom. There were cypress shelves that ran floor to ceiling. Even the floors beneath me were worn and weathered cypress. The whole room smelled like river water and book pages. I wanted to bottle it.

I took to wringing my hands instead of the poor carrots.

“This is ridiculous.” I said aloud.

I grabbed a book from behind me, not even looking at the title and opened it to the middle and decided to read the first passage, vowing to take the sentence as an omen.

“Every heart is haunted.”

I had to ask Porter about Marie. Maybe if I knew the story, I would be better equipped to handle her if she showed up again.

Then again, knowledge didn’t exactly serve as a shield for strangulation.

He asked that we have no secrets.

I trusted Porter.

I had to tell him.