Sometime Yesterday (17 page)

Van had a few of those same thoughts as well this morning but preferred to shut them down until she could think about how she felt. Natalie humbled her this morning. “Better to be terrified of the ghosts in your house than me.”

“Did you have to go there?” Natalie asked.

“What happened yesterday?”

“You didn’t give me a chance to tell you earlier.” Natalie smiled and flexed her long fingers. “I’m an artist. I have selective memory, and I can be temperamental and downright eccentric.”

Van was amused. “It’s part of your charm, right?”

“Damn straight.” Natalie said and reached for her dress to head into the bathroom.

“Natalie?” Van asked. She looked like a goddess standing there in her skimpy panties, tumbled hair, and wearing a blush on top of it all.

“Yes?”

“Brace yourself.” Van smoothly launched herself, tackling Natalie back onto the bed. “I am the boss and I can be late.”

*

After a red-hot kiss at the door and a promise to call later, Van dropped Natalie off and left for the nursery. With Van out of physical proximity, Natalie could think about the major turn her life had taken.

Flashbacks came to her in an intense rush. She thought of soft breasts and hot skin that felt like velvet over solid muscles. Natalie smiled. Everything had felt so natural. There were no awkward moments, at least until they had to part. Of course she was a bit shy and uncertain, but only because she hadn’t ever been made love to before, not like that. How could she put into words the way colors bled into her consciousness and splashed over all the shades of gray she had lived with for so many years? The passion she had only previously had a hint of when painting flooded her senses until all she could
do
was feel? How terrifying and satisfying it was all at the same time.

Natalie felt gloriously alive while she took her shower. She couldn’t help but smile while she thought
this
is what well-loved felt like. The depth of satisfaction made her want to purr. Natalie dried her body tenderly. There was not an inch of her that wasn’t kissed, caressed, or nibbled on. She hung up her towel and turned to the mirror then saw the new message written in the steam.

Run!

“The hell I will,” she said in an even tone, even as she was royally mad for the intrusion. She marched to her dresser to pull on comfortable clothes then went to her studio.

The completed sketch on the wall begged her attention. Though she desperately wanted to paint Sarah and Beth entwined on the chaise, she had the gallery obligation to fulfill.

Natalie propped two of the promised three paintings against the wall so she could create another to complement them. She crouched in front of the canvas women, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

The Winter Queen on her throne of ice stared back at her. She touched the woman’s mouth and wondered if she’d been thinking of how it would feel to kiss those full red lips in the back of some recess in her mind when she created her.

Frigid.
Jason’s voice whispered in her memory.

The word intruded, but Natalie smiled. The ugly label no longer had any power over her. She turned to the Fire Empress standing defiantly in front of her throne. Flames licked the hem of her gown and piercing eyes dominated her face. Her long hair blew around her, filling the canvas. She almost seemed to be inviting someone to come get burned while at the same time her expression said she knew that no one would dare.

Had she painted this one to represent her buried passion? It certainly seemed so. Yes, the signs were here in her art. Her dream lovers and hidden selves. Natalie felt fresh pride in her work, looking at it with clear eyes.

The next in the series would be Earth Mother. Natalie assembled her new supplies, faced the empty canvas, took a deep breath, and systematically closed out distractions—the landscaping crew, her thoughts, the ticking of the clock in the corner. An idea formed. And then reformed.

Natalie picked up her brush and began creating.

Some hours later, she became aware again and set her brush down. Natalie looked out the window and saw dark storm clouds rolling and gathering in the evening dusk. She rubbed her aching shoulder and turned to look at what she’d nearly completed. In an instant, her breath left her lungs in a rush and she dropped to her knees.

Natalie had painted herself. No, not her—Beth’s gaunt face stared out at her, a horrific purple and yellow bruise covered the left side of her face and her bottom lip was bloody and swollen. Natalie gasped and reached up to touch her own face and watched, terrified, as Beth mirrored her movement.

Tears were falling down her battered face and she appeared to be trying to speak. Rain pelted the windows and Natalie realized it was herself making the wounded noises in her own throat. She backed up to the wall in a sitting fetal position and rubbed her eyes.

“
Help us!
”

“I can’t help you!” Natalie cried out. “I don’t know how!”

“
Find the key!
”

The door at the bottom of the stairs slammed shut. Terror raced through Natalie’s bloodstream, churning her stomach, and she broke out in a cold sweat. She willed herself to wake up, to believe that this wasn’t real.

The door slammed again and Natalie thought her heart might burst. More thunder shook the house and the lights went out. One of the front windows shattered; the curtains blew in with the force of the wind, rain soaking everything in its path.

Loud footsteps sounded on the stairs. Her throat clenched and Natalie couldn’t breathe. Deep, masculine laughter boomed and echoed around the dark room.

Natalie screamed. “Go away, you’re not
real!
”

Beth cried out. “
The key!
”

The easel moved with unseen force and flew at Natalie’s head.

*

Van stood at the front door and shook the rain from her hair. What was taking Natalie so long to answer? Her car was out front.

Was someone crying? One moment she could hear it and the next, the sound was swept away by the wind. Van left the porch to check out the front windows. There were lights on in the third floor turret.

Natalie screamed and adrenaline flooded Van’s veins. She ran around to the back to use her key and raced through the house then pounded up the stairs. It was quiet now. Too quiet. Van was dimly aware of a pressure on her chest when she tried to open the door to the studio. It was stuck. She wanted to smash through it, but the door opened outward.

The knob finally turned and she flew up the stairs. When she saw Natalie on the floor she ran to her. She was struggling for breath and Van could see her rapid pulse pounding in her neck.

Van was alarmed at how cold she was. “Natalie?” She patted her face. “Baby, wake up.” When she didn’t get any reaction, she shook harder. “Come on, come back to me.”

“Van?” she whispered. “Be careful of the glass.”

“What glass?”

Natalie gained her feet and tried to drag Van to the stairs. “We have to hide. He’s here!”

Van used force to still her. “Sweetheart, there’s no one here.”

Natalie looked around with wide eyes. Everything looked normal. The window was closed and in one piece; the easel was still set up where she placed it. “It was so real.”

“What happened, Natalie?” Van led her to the chair and sat her down.

Natalie told her about the painting and apparent shift of reality.

Van believed her. How could she not after hearing everything that happened in this house? “What key?”

Natalie’s color looked better. “I have no idea.”

“Have you eaten today?”

“No, I was up here painting for hours.” Natalie finally stood and walked over to the canvas then cried out in shock.

Van rushed over to see what she was seeing.

The canvas was completely white.

*

Natalie tried to call her mother. “Damn it. Nothing but static.”

“Here, try mine.”

“No signal.” Natalie went to the refrigerator and started to pull together a fruit and cheese tray. “Grab me some crackers out of the pantry, could you please?” She still felt a little shaky, but refused to give in to the fear.

“Do you want to go to my place?”

She looked over at Van and noticed how pale she was. “God, I’m sorry. I never thought how this might be affecting you; how insane I must seem.”

“It
is
a little surreal.” Van popped a grape into her mouth. “When I was using the restroom earlier, I thought I heard somebody walking upstairs and I could almost swear I heard somebody tell me to get out. You have to admit it’s a little scary. Okay, it’s a lot scary.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave,” Natalie said. “I would understand.” So much for her budding romance, she thought sadly.

“Don’t you want to after that scene upstairs?” Van pointed to the ceiling. “Aren’t you afraid at all?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.” The chilling memory of the—what should she call it, vision—was fading, but Natalie’s heart still felt wounded. The pain she felt was real, even if it wasn’t actually hers.

Van’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Do
you
want to leave?”

Natalie thought of how many times she’d bowed to someone else’s expectations and did exactly what they thought she should. Her fear was replaced with defiance. The only victims here, as she saw it, were Beth and Sarah. “No, I want to stay and help them.” Her voice came out as strong as she suddenly felt.

“How?”

“I have to find the key.”

“Okay, where do we start?”

Natalie felt her heart skip a beat; she said “we.” It appeared that Van wasn’t going to run screaming into the night. “I’m guessing we have to solve the mystery.”

“Shouldn’t we call in a paranormal team or something?”

The question amused Natalie. “My mother just left the other day. For most of my life, I accepted strange occurrences that didn’t necessarily have any logical explanation, things that others aren’t comfortable with. I got used to keeping most of it to myself for so long, I shut out
my
gift.” This is another reason why, Natalie thought, she’d stayed in her sham of a marriage so long. Once you started building a brick wall of denial, it became easy to hide all sorts of things behind it.

“Okay,” Van said. “Let’s run this all down from the beginning.”

Natalie began her story at the point she drove away from her old house.

Van listened while she wrote a bullet list. The whole thing was beginning to sound like a Hollywood script, except it was coming from Natalie, and she had a part in the movie. Everything that happened sounded irrational, but after having her own experience in the house, Van couldn’t help but feel the story was plausible.

“This all fits in with what my dad said at dinner,” she said when Natalie finished. “So the previous owners were only haunted by who they called the dark man, and we know as Richard.”

Natalie nodded. “The asshole bully.”

Van grinned; she couldn’t help but think it was cute, hearing Natalie swear with that sweet voice of hers. “Back to the list. When
you
moved in, you dreamt of Sarah, who appeared to have thought you were Beth, who was married to the asshole bully, who also happened to be Sarah’s brother.”

“Pretty much, that’s how I see it,” Natalie said.

“And…” Van looked at her list. “You realized you were a lesbian during the course of the initial dreams.”

“In the beginning, I think the dreams made some kind of connection. But I was sure when I met you.”

“This brings us to my first connection, an ancestor who worked on this property.” Van drew an arrow from her name to Natalie’s on her paper. “The second connection I see is us together as a couple.”

The basement door rattled in its frame and the hair rose on the back of Van’s neck. “Jesus Christ, Natalie. A sane woman would run.”

“Apparently, we pissed somebody off.”

Van made eye contact with Natalie. She was already far more attached to her than she ever thought she would be when she met her. She loved that she looked fierce and not afraid. “Doesn’t this feel a little pre-ordained to you?” Van didn’t know how to feel about that at the moment, that someone or something else could plot her destiny.

Natalie looked thoughtful. “Because of the fact that I am the spitting image of Beth? Which, by the way, kind of gives me the willies, or because Beth moved in here and fell in love with Sarah?”

Van drew one more arrow. “Looks like both.”

“Then I have to dig deeper to find more connections and the key.”

A cool breeze blew through the kitchen. “Do you smell lavender?” Van asked.

Natalie nodded. “I’m going to take that as Beth and Sarah’s agreeing with us
and
I’m not giving Richard a fucking inch.”

“You’re becoming quite the potty mouth.”

Natalie blushed and started to say something, but Van interrupted her. “No, it’s okay. I like it.” Natalie had many facets and she found them all interesting. Life may have been much simpler before she met her, but it sure as hell wasn’t as fascinating. She raised her water glass. “Here’s to not giving Richard a fucking inch.” She was done with the frightful portion of the evening’s program.