ScandalandSin (21 page)

Miss Maebelle’s eyes widened before a huge
smile broke over her wrinkled face. “Really? How fascinating! Tell me all about
it.”

“You don’t think it’s strange that Alaina
thinks she…” Rye stopped and started again. “That Alaina has seen a ghost?”

“Oh goodness, no! There’s a ghost in the
courthouse, you know.”

Alaina looked at Rye. “You didn’t tell me
that.”

“It’s just an old wives’ tale.”

Miss Maebelle straightened and her chin
lifted an inch. “It is not. I’ve heard it walking around, and so have a lot of
other people.”

Rye sat back in his chair again. “But don’t
you think it’s strange that no one else has seen the ghost in Stevens House
except Alaina? A lot of people have lived in that house over the years. You
just said no one ever reported any sightings.”

Miss Maebelle looked at Alaina. “Perhaps
the ghost had a message for you.”

“She did. She led me to two paintings.”

Now smiling again, the older woman turned
her attention back to Rye. “There you go.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense! Alaina
moved away from here when she was thirteen. She’d never stepped inside that
house until a couple of weeks ago. It isn’t logical that this ghost would
appear to her and no one else.”

“Yes, it is.” Alaina swallowed again and
lifted her gaze to Rye’s. “Laura Cummins was my great-great-aunt.”

Chapter Sixteen

April 28, 1937

He came into the store after school with
his son. I overheard him telling my father that his wife would leave for
Oklahoma City this afternoon to visit her sister. He laughed and said he’d be a
bachelor for the next week.

Laura hadn’t said anything about a break
in her tutoring lessons with Patrick. I casually asked him if his wife would be
taking the children with her. He said no, that they had to stay in school.
Plus, he didn’t want to interrupt Patrick’s tutoring lessons with Laura since
they were helping so much. My father beamed at the compliment to his youngest
daughter.

I headed to the back of the store to
replace an item on the shelf that Mrs. Kinson decided not to buy. When I turned
around, he was right behind me. His eyes looked like chips of ice. He told me
he knew I didn’t approve of Laura tutoring his son, but I would be wise to
leave things alone.

I have to make sure Laura never goes
back to that house.

* * * * *

Rye wrapped his hands tightly around the
steering wheel and stared straight ahead through the windshield. He could feel
Alaina’s gaze on him, but refused to return it.

She’d kept something from him. Again.

He didn’t expect her to spill her life
story after knowing him for only two weeks. But he couldn’t imagine why she
didn’t tell him that her family had a history in Stevens House, just like his
family did.

Rye pulled into his regular parking spot at
the back of the house. Turning off the ignition, he blew out a deep breath.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was afraid,” she said in a small
voice.

Surprised at her answer, he turned his head
toward her. “Afraid of what?”

She lifted her gaze from her clasped hands
and looked at him. “That you wouldn’t want anything to do with me when you
found out your great-grandfather was hanged for the murder of my
great-great-aunt.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You didn’t want anything to do with me
because of what happened with my sister. Why would I think other members of my
family wouldn’t affect you the same way?”

He supposed she had a point, but things
still didn’t make sense to him. “I don’t understand why I didn’t know about
your family’s involvement in this whole thing. Alesia never said anything about
it.”

“Alesia didn’t care about her ancestors.
She didn’t care about anything but herself. Plus our last name was Pearson.
There was no reason for you to associate a Pearson with a Cummins.” Alaina
shifted in her seat and turned toward him. “After Laura was killed, her parents
and her sister, Miriam—my great-grandmother—moved to Kansas. Miriam married and
had two sons. My great-uncle had three children, my grandfather had my mother.”

“How did your family end up back in
Lanville?”

“My dad came through town on his fancy
Harley and my mother fell for him with one look. He was the bad boy, the kind
my mom couldn’t ever date. He asked her to elope after four weeks. She agreed.
They traveled around the country, my dad picking up work at the nuclear plants.
I’m not sure what he did there, but he was really good at his job and made a
lot of money at it. Alesia was born, then me three years later. My mom was
ready to settle down with a home of her own. My dad got a job at Comanche Peak
in Glen Rose and they moved to Lanville.” She shrugged. “End of story.”

“Not quite. How did you find out about
Laura’s murder and that you were related to her?”

“From Miriam’s diary. My grandfather gave
it to me. He’d found it in my great-grandmother’s possessions when she passed
away. He said he’d forgotten about it until he started going through his
paperwork shortly before he died. He wanted to be sure everything was in order
with his estate.”

“He’s the one who left you the five
million?”

Alaina nodded. “We’d always been close
while I was growing up, even though he lived in Kansas and we lived in Texas.
We talked on the phone a lot and visited as often as possible. My mom inherited
the rest of his estate, which amounted to about nine million.”

“And Alesia?”

“One hundred thousand dollars. Which pissed
her off royally since my grandfather was worth so much. I think he did that
simply because she was his granddaughter. They’d never been close.”

“Why did he give Miriam’s diary to you and
not your mother?”

“My grandfather moved to Texas and had a
house built behind my mom’s three years ago. He wanted to be closer to her and
me, and we both wanted him to be close to us. I was visiting with him one day
in December and we were chatting about family. I mentioned that I’d thought
about researching my ancestors. I thought that would be fun to do. That’s when
he gave me Miriam’s diary, because I’d shown an interest in ancestry.” She
looked down for a moment. “He passed away four days later at age
seventy-seven.”

“Is that why you wanted Stevens House so
badly, because of your family ties?”

She nodded again. “My family lived in this
area for generations. I wanted to be a part of that history.”

“What happened to your father? I know he
left town about eight years ago.”

Alaina shrugged. “I haven’t heard from him
in years. I don’t know if he’s still alive.” She reached up and laid her hand
over his on the back of the seat. “I’m sorry for not telling you that I’m
related to Laura, but do you understand why I didn’t? I didn’t want to lose
you.”

Rye took her hand, brought it to his mouth
and kissed the palm. “No more holding back again. I want us to be totally
honest with each other, no matter what. Okay?”

She gave him a tender smile. “Okay.”

* * * * *

Alaina swept up sawdust and debris from the
kitchen floor. All the lumber had been examined and moved, the damaged pieces
taken to the circular saw on the veranda to cut off the wet, charred parts.
Sweat formed between her breasts and ran down her back. Although barely eighty
degrees outside, it had to be over ninety in the house. She’d be so glad when
air-conditioning could be installed. The Colemans’ crew would probably be glad
too.

She dumped the contents of the dustpan in a
large garbage can. As long as she had the broom and dustpan in her hands, she
decided she might as well make a trip through the house and clean up after the
guys. They were scattered over the top two floors, so Alaina headed for the
stairs.

The sound of nail guns and hammers greeted
her when she reached the second floor. Peeking into the bedroom on her left,
she saw Justin and Rory hard at work. They’d torn out the old window and were
building a frame for the new one. She paused long enough to wave to them, then
walked between skeletons of two-by-fours in what would eventually be a hallway
toward what used to be the master bedroom.

There was a large plastic garbage can in
each room, and the guys were good about pitching their trash, wood pieces and
old nails into them. Sometimes they missed the can, so there was usually quite
a bit for Alaina to sweep up every day. She didn’t mind. Every pile of sawdust
she swept up brought her that much closer to her dream.

She dropped both broom and dustpan when she
felt the cold air wash over her. Alaina turned around, searching for Laura. The
ghost began to appear, but vanished again. As quickly as she’d disappeared, she
reappeared, her eyes tightly closed, her fists clenched.

“You can do it, Laura. Concentrate.”

Laura finally took form. Her head was down,
her shoulders slumped as if it had taken a great effort on her part to
materialize.

“Are you okay?” Alaina asked.
Well,
that’s a stupid question. She’s a ghost. Of course she’s not okay
.

Laura lifted her head and slowly
straightened her shoulders. A determined look filled her eyes. Gliding to the
other side of the bedroom, she pointed to the floor in the corner.

Alaina’s heart slammed against her ribs.
“Is there another painting under the floorboards?”

Laura nodded.

“Are there more in the house?”

The ghost shook her head. And vanished.

Crossing the floor, Alaina peered at the
old wooden planks that hadn’t yet been replaced. There must be a trap door of
some kind, like there was in the turret window seat.

Screwdriver time again.

With Rory’s screwdriver clasped tightly in
her fist, Alaina returned to the master bedroom. Dropping to her knees, she searched
for a latch or indentation in the wood that would indicate a door.

The jangling of items in a tool belt drew
her attention from the floor. She looked over her shoulder to see Rye standing
behind her. His eyes were narrowed.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a trap door.”

He squatted down beside her. “And why do
you think there’s a trap door here?”

“Laura told me.”

“You said the ghost can’t talk.”

“She can’t. But she pointed to this spot
and nodded when I asked her if there’s another painting here.”

Rye rubbed his mustache. Alaina braced
herself for the negative comments he would make. Instead of saying anything, he
held out his hand.

“What?”

“Give me the screwdriver. I’ll help you.”

She gladly handed over the tool and sat on
the floor. Rye took a hammer from his tool belt and dropped to his knees. After
a moment of examining the boards much as she had, he slipped the screwdriver
under the edge of a board and tapped the head with the hammer. The board came
loose.

He pried up four boards that were hooked
together. Alaina peered over his shoulder to see another rectangular item
wrapped in burlap.

Rye drew the item out of the floor and
handed it to Alaina. She carefully unwrapped it to find yet another painting of
the riverbank.

“That’s downtown, behind the feed store.
The river makes a sharp turn and forms that deep cove. I’ve fished in there
dozens of times.”

Alaina gazed at the tumble of water over
rocks, the trees swaying in the breeze. Everything looked so real. Whoever
painted these landscapes was incredibly talented.

She wished she knew who had created them.

“Laura said this is the last one. I mean, I
asked her if there are any more in the house and she shook her head.”

Rye slipped the hammer and screwdriver into
his tool belt. “Then I guess it’s time to get them framed.”

“Hey, Rye,” Griff called out. “Vince is
here. He has a couple of questions about the doors.”

“Be right there.” He took the painting from
Alaina. “I’ll put this in the living room with the other two. We can go to Fort
Worth this weekend. After we drop off all three to be framed, we can have
dinner and see a movie.”

Alaina smiled, happy that he finally seemed
to accept her visions of Laura Cummins. “I’d like that.”

“You going downstairs?”

“I think I’ll finish sweeping up here
first.”

He gave her a hand to pull her up, then
headed for the stairs. Alaina picked up her broom and dustpan to finish her
job. It was almost five-thirty, meaning the crew had already left. Every muscle
in her body ached. Deciding the sweeping could wait until tomorrow, she set the
broom and dustpan in the corner and walked toward the stairs.

Cold air washed over her before she could
take the first step. She froze, waiting for Laura to appear.

She didn’t have to wait long. Laura hovered
over the stairs. She held her arms out, then brought her hands together and
interlocked her fingers.