Authors: Over the Mistletoe
Jennifer Robins (7 page)
****
The holiday was underway and Rachael couldn’t have looked more beautiful. Dinner was great and Stan ate two helpings of the fine meal on the table.
Later when her parents were in the living room, and she and Stan sat in the kitchen having a cup of hot tea, he took her hand. “Rachael, I know we only met a short time ago, but I’m very much in love with you and I want to spend my life with you.” He cleared his throat. “I want to know how you feel about me.”
Her eyes met his. “I am in love with you, that’s how I feel.”
It was music to his ears. His mind went crazy with all the things he wanted to say to her. “I have a good job now and will be making more money and this depression can’t last forever.” He paused and leaned forward as he held her hand. “What I’m trying to say… is I can take care of you. I want you to be my wife, Rachael. I know it’s only been a few days since we’ve met, but I’m so in love with you.”
Tears swelled in her eyes, but he recognized they were tears of happiness. “Yes, Stan, I want to be your wife.” They stood and embraced. His mouth came down gently on hers, just like that first kiss over the mistletoe.
After spending many years in the business world, Jennifer Robins took up the pen and started to write about what she found the most interesting subjects, the paranormal-super-natural mixed at times with luscious romance. Her family grown, she finds time now to pursue a career in writing.
She attended Tri-C College for business and went on to be successful in the real estate field in her home town, a small suburb of Cleveland.
She lives with her husband and her wonderful dogs and cats. Loves music, art, and gardening, plays piano, paints in oils and enjoys the company of her son’s and daughters and their families.
Every day brings a new idea, a new adventure in research and stories that take up her daily thoughts.
Prologue
England
,
1885
Mist dampened the night air and hovered low to the ground. Dim moonlight showered the land. The country hillside stood bare of foliage in the late fall season. The sound of horses’ hoofs echoed as they trampled the cobblestone road. The coach, dark and lonely, traveled the incline to a structure that waited alone on the hill. Leyland cypress sat lazily along the lake’s banks. Foggy mist rose above the water, hovering over the tall pine trees, giving them a fear-provoking look. Sounds in the night whispered as the wind sang a tune with a hooting owl nearby.
An eerie stone mansion sat high above the road. Leaf-stripped trees, standing tall and wide, lined the long, winding drive leading to the mansion. An orange glow streamed out from a window and flickered in the dark of the night, crossing the front of the large estate.
Two strong horses pulled the black coach to a stop at the front door. A hooded person emerged from the dark interior of the coach with the help of the driver, who had come around quickly to assist his passenger. The foggy mist surrounded the visitor’s boots as the cold night’s sting hit his face.
The large front door opened. A tall man stood waiting to greet the lonely rider. Stiff-postured, he wore the clothes of a butler. “Come with me, sir,” he said in a deep, demanding voice.
The welcomed guest’s hand reached out from the cape and pulled the hood away from his head, exposing his face and dark brown hair. He didn’t speak or smile, but followed the butler along a wide hallway lighted with large candles on tall pedestals spaced a few feet apart. The butler opened the door to a room and escorted him in.
A staircase on the right, also lighted by candles, led them to a lower level. Voices could be heard, and became louder as the men moved down closer to the open room.
The butler made his way toward many hooded men, his visitor at his side. Flickering candles surrounded an altar at the far wall. The men’s chanting echoed and filled the room. The butler placed his hand on the visitor’s shoulder and turned him around so he faced a tall, cloaked man.
A dagger lay on the altar along with a shallow cup. The cloaked man grabbed the dagger, and the visitor held out his hand. Pain ripped through his arm when the blade pierced his palm. The cloaked man held the cup an inch below the injured hand, catching the fresh blood of his guest. A blood offering filled the vessel and was presented to an evil-looking carved stone figure that sat in the middle of the altar. All the men bowed in prayer-like motion and then held their hands high to praise their new companion, a pact with the evil one made as an initiation.
Lightning streaked the sky as the visitor left the mansion in the horse-drawn coach. Thunder rumbled loud, threatening the driver, who held his cape around his face. Wet wind penetrated the coach.
The passenger held a handkerchief tightly around his bleeding hand. A sinister grin lay heavy on his face. His exchange with the evil one would make great changes for him, profitable ones. It didn’t matter how he got it, nor the sacrifices he would have to offer from now until eternity.
Chicago, 1998
Rush hour was the worst time of day for Andrea Devon to be driving through the busy streets of Chicago. Because of the heavy traffic, she had gotten home much later than she’d expected. Planning a rummage sale with the women at the church should have been a simple task, but it had turned into a major project that had taken the better part of the day. It was almost five o’clock, and her husband would be coming home in another hour. She had little time to make dinner.
After a day in the church basement, she couldn’t help loving the beautiful sunny weather outside, with temperatures in the mid-seventies. A warm spring breeze swept across the yard, blowing her long, soft brown hair into her face. The end of May was a great time of year. Brightly colored tulips stood tall along the side of the walk leading up to the house. She’d just bent down to pick a few for the table when she heard the phone ringing inside. Maybe one of the women from the church was calling to tell her they’d forgotten something. She hurried to the door.
“I’m coming!” she shouted as she ran into the living room. She picked up the phone from the table next to the sofa. “Hello?”
“Hi, babe.” It was her husband, John. He always called her “babe” when he was in a good mood. “Guess what?” His voice was full of excitement.
Andrea chuckled. “You sound pretty chipper. What’s going on?”
“Good news, babe. I’ve been offered a promotion and a transfer.” He paused for a moment. “We are going to be moving to a wonderful small town called Partersville. It’s in Michigan. It’s a quaint old town, like the ones we’ve always talked about. It’s what we always wanted, Andrea. What do you think?”
She was surprised and hardly knew what to say. “When did you find this out?” She sat on the sofa and pushed her hair from her face.
John began to rattle off the details. “The head man from the main office was in today and told me the great news. We talked for a long time. In fact, he just left about a half-hour ago.” He sounded like a kid on Christmas morning. “We’ll talk more when I get home. This is it, babe. I gotta go.”
Andrea sat there reminiscing about her life with John.
She and John had been sweethearts since childhood. After college, they’d married and settled down in their small two-bedroom house. Andrea taught third grade in public school, while John went into the insurance business with a major company. He was now at the top sales level. They had wanted a child, but Andrea had no success getting pregnant. After many tests that showed everything normal, the doctor suggested she take time off from her job to get away from the stress of dealing with large groups of children every day.
A year had gone by, and still she had not conceived. She’d grown bored with staying home alone all the time with little to keep her busy, so she’d joined a church group and gotten involved in volunteer work at the hospital. She grew less concerned with her problem of conceiving as she went about her daily activities, leaving the fate of her motherhood up to God.
John’s company wanted him in Partersville by the first of July. Andrea wondered how they would get everything done in so short a time. John, on the other hand, was more optimistic as he assured her that things would work out. “Don’t worry. My company will advance us the money to buy a house in Partersville, and we can get settled in by the first week of July. We can put our house on the market right away. There’s plenty of time to pack and get things in order — almost three weeks.”
Andrea still felt skeptical. “I just wish we had more time. This is a big move and there is a lot more to do than you think, John. We have to get this house ready to sell, and packing is not an easy thing. Not to mention how much time it will take to find another house. You think it’s going to be easy to get all of this done in just a few weeks?”
“It will all work out,” John insisted. “Believe me.”
****
The next day, they put the house on the market with a local real estate company. John made arrangements to meet an agent in Partersville the following day to look at houses there. Andrea could barely keep up with the pace, but she was finally convinced things would work out without a problem.
The morning they were to leave for Partersville, John rushed around the house, running his fingers through his wavy blond hair — a habit of his when he was nervous. “I can do some of the driving, at least part of the way,” Andrea offered when she saw his edginess.
“No, I’ll do all of the driving. You can sit back and enjoy the ride.”
Soon they were on their way past the city limits, heading east. It was a cool but sunny day, and they made good time. They couldn’t have asked for better weather. John had an uncanny wit about him, especially while driving. “I hear they have a great number of log cabins in Michigan,” John said. “Think you could settle for something like that? We could rough it.”
She chuckled at his strange sense of humor. “No, thanks. I would like an old house, but I don’t mean a shack. I want something with character, history. Maybe Victorian.” He looked over at her to see her brown eyes light up with her smile. A dimple in her right cheek added beauty to her face.
The drive to Partersville was fun, exciting. The two of them were like children on an adventure. They looked forward to a new town, a new home, and a dream come true.
Three hours later and halfway there, John pulled into a rest area off the highway. “Fifteen minutes, my sweet wife,” he announced as they got out of the car. “Let’s get some coffee and go to the restrooms before continuing on our way again.”
Glad to stretch her legs, Andrea walked around with a cup of vending machine coffee in her hand ─ not the greatest in the world, but it would do. She saw John sitting at one of the small tables with a newspaper, drinking his coffee and looking at the headlines. When it was time to get back on the road, John set the paper down and gave Andrea a wave to call her back.
They arrived in Partersville just before one. John liked everything right on schedule. Being on time was a must in his business, and the habit had followed him into his personal life. He never left a client or anyone else waiting.
Andrea marveled over some of the old buildings as they drove through town. “Did you see those buildings?” she asked. “This is an old town all right, really quaint. I think I’m going to like it here. It looks like the old towns we’ve seen pictured in those magazines we get. You know, the ones we always admired so much.”
“Sure does,” John agreed as he pulled up to the real estate office, a beautifully restored old red brick building.
Their agent, Rosemarie Kelly — a short Irish woman with a bit of a brogue — stood inside the door. “Come in, Mr. and Mrs. Devon. We can sit in the next room. I’ll get you something to drink if you’d like. Coffee, tea, or soda?”
“Coffee would be fine for us,” John answered. “We both take it black.”
“I’ll be right back.” She showed them to a room with a round oak table and four
captain’s chairs. The offices were beautiful, decorated in Victorian style.
Expectations grew as Rosemarie returned with a book filled with listings and pictures of houses in their price range. “Look through these.” She put the book on the table. “When you find something you like, I can make arrangements to show it to you.”
It didn’t take long for Andrea to spot something of interest to her. “Here, this one.” She held a picture up of a stately old three-story house. “I want to see this one, Rosemarie. Can we go right now?” The beauty of the older home appealed to Andrea so much she was not interested in the others.
John took the picture from her. “Yes, this one does look good. Seems like it’s in pretty good shape. How old is it, Rosemarie?”
“That one just came on the market. I won’t have the key until three. It’s over a century old. They’re selling to settle the estate. Are there any others you would like to see before that?” She held up a picture of a bungalow. “How about this one? It’s very nice inside. I think you might like it.”
Andrea’s eyes locked on John’s. They both shook their heads. “We’re not interested in any of the others. Can we see the older one at three when you have the key?” Andrea requested.
Rosemarie nodded. “Of course you can. The key will be dropped off at the office here, so if you come back at three, we should be able to go out to see it. If you’re hungry, there’s a little diner right around the corner from here.”
With an hour and a half to kill, John and Andrea took a tour of the town. The square presented a historical monument of days long past. Its four short streets were lined with old, magnificently restored buildings. In the center, a beautiful park boasted a fancy gazebo. Spring flowers accented its perimeters. The city hall, the library, a fire station, and an old bank with a clock tower reaching high above the trees echoed the past. An old stone church gave character to the square. Several small shops bustled with customers coming and going. The charm of the old town was all they could ever have wanted.
The diner Rosemarie suggested was tucked in a small cubbyhole next to the library. They were seated in a booth by a young lady no older than maybe sixteen. John winked as she handed him a menu. “I bet you’re going to tell me you have some homemade apple pie, aren’t you?”
“Yes, we do, and it’s our special today. We also have blueberry, lemon, cherry, and banana cream.”
Andrea laughed. It was great being there. The town and its people made her feel right at home. After a hearty lunch and some friendly conversation with the waitress, they returned to the real estate office. Rosemarie was waiting for them with a big smile on her face.
