The Line That Binds (20 page)

She tilted the book toward one of the basement’s exposed bulbs for better light. She could’ve moved a few feet away for a better position, but she didn’t. Her choice to remain close to me led my thoughts somewhere sublime, forcing me to take a deep breath in order to calm down. Deep breathing was quickly becoming essential around her.

“Do you stick out your tongue when you color?” I asked, watching her lips press together again.

She turned her head to look at me over her shoulder. “What? No! Why?”

“Nothing,” I said, smiling.

“Shut up!” she spat, though she smiled when her eyes settled back on the ledger. “Check out this picture.” She supported the ledger on her forearm and unfolded a picture that was tucked into the page’s crease.

It was black and white with blurred details. A dark-haired man wore a tidy-looking pant suit and a dainty woman stood beside him. She was wearing a wedding dress with tight sleeves that widened out over her elbows. Its bottom front section held three overlapping detailed layers, the lowest of which bunched on the ground covering her feet. The couple stood before the gazebo behind the event house with the well visible in the background.

LJ flipped the picture over.
September 5, 1864
was scrawled in smudged ink, along with the names
Charles and Sarah Stockton
.

“This has to be around seven or eight generations ago,” LJ whispered to herself, flipping the picture back to front. “Look, the well looks new. I wonder if it was built for their wedding, too.” She tucked the picture back into the crease and flipped another few pages. A loose page stuck out from another fold. It was yellowed with tattered edges. The heading read
Pennsylvania Volunteers 177
th
Regiment
and was dated November 1862.

LJ skimmed the lines with her finger, absorbing its history through the feel of the old paper. “This is the Civil War. Here, his name,” she said, running her finger over the ink. “Charles Stockton. It says that he volunteered for duty and served nine months.”

I reached over her arm again and leaned my face above her shoulder for a better view. I pointed to the words a couple of lines beneath her fingers. “Mustered out August seventh, eighteen sixty-three. He was discharged the year before he was married,” I added. “I knew he was in the war, but I never knew the dates.”

LJ shifted her head to the side and backed into my chest. I inhaled the subtle almond scent that always surrounded her. I had no idea if it was lotion or shampoo, but it was freaking amazing, and it made me want to sniff her like some creep.

She didn’t react to our bodies touching; her back simply pulled slowly away. I, however, tensed up from the contact. If she noticed, she probably thought I was a chump. I was actually starting to think that of myself because of my dilemma. It was an internal battle between good and bad, right or wrong. My body wanted the good, to be closer, but I hesitated because of the potentially bad situation. Even if the curse was all some made-up story, I still didn’t know what her final plans were for the property. She could be playing coy only to rip this place apart as soon as she signed the deed. For some reason, though, I wanted to believe that wouldn’t happen.

When I backed into Ben’s chest, I almost fainted. That small amount of contact felt so right, and in that moment I wanted more. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me and pull me closer. It was a nice thought; unfortunately, even with my purposeful delay, he gave no reaction suggesting it was possible. I pulled my body away from his as smoothly as I could without shaking, which was hard to do since my knees were as unsteady as my emotions had been lately.

I flipped another few pages as lightning crashed outside, rattling the ground and the house’s walls. Desert storms never scared me. They’d roll through the Vegas area fast, dumping loads of rain. Their biggest threat was flooding underpasses and trap idiotic drivers too busy to consider flood zones. They traveled too rapidly to be much of a hindrance. This storm didn’t feel the same.

I tried to concentrate on the ledger and not on Ben, who remained right behind me, looking over my shoulder like he was as interested in the book as I wanted to be. His breath rolled down my neck, sending shivers down to my toes. I flipped to the back of the book, ignoring the notes about farming budgets and the records of labor, crops, and tools. When I pulled the back of the ledger up to close it, another picture popped out of a slit cut into its lining.

Ben reached over me again, grabbing the black-and-white picture before I had the chance. He slipped it out of the hiding spot and laid it on the book between my hands. A young woman, maybe in her early twenties, stood beside a stone house. The layout looked exactly like Ben’s house, with large squared stones outlining the kitchen windows, unlike the tall, slim borders of the main house or the mansion.

She wore a basic-patterned dress, with no evidence of a corset to cinch her curvy waist. Her hair was pulled back, her big eyes gazed adoringly at the camera, and her hands folded together at her waist. Ben flipped the picture over. The handwritten date was smudged, yet legible, stating September 1863. The name Dahlia Wentz was printed beside the date.

Ben flipped it back to look at her again. “I know I’ve seen her before,” he said close to my ear.

“Is that your house?”

“Yeah. I think she was one of the servants.”

“Dahlia,” I said, staring at her beautiful eyes. “Pretty name, pretty girl.”

“I’ve seen other servant pictures in albums in Janine’s office upstairs. Maybe that’s where I’ve seen her before. But why would Charles have this hidden in his ledger. Unless …”

I waited for him to speak again, but he didn’t so I turned my head closer to his. “Unless what?”

He breathed out, looking at the picture again. “He loved her.”

“If so, do you think he was hiding this from his wife or do you think he hid it because she was a servant?”

“I’m not sure. I guess if they were involved, it could be either, or both. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to date the servant girl and he had to marry someone else the next year. Or it could’ve been an ongoing affair. Either way, she wasn’t just some random hook up because he wouldn’t have hidden this,” he said, still staring at the picture.

“He was a family man enjoying his wife, and partying with their hot maid in secret. Times haven’t changed much, I suppose; though, now it’s common the other way as well,” I said, thinking about my mother’s servant addiction: pool boys.

“It’s always a scandal, sure, but it doesn’t sound like a huge dilemma to me.” He chuckled.

“Of course you wouldn’t think so,” I replied. “You had me scared for a minute. I thought with the way you were whining earlier that you’d turned into a girl. Thanks for clearing that up.”

“No problem,” he laughed.

The light bulb flickered with the next rumble of thunder. We both looked around the room as another lightning bolt hit close to the house, rattling the foundation. Ben faced me again just as both basement lights blinked off.

“Shit,” I said, immediately thinking of my phone, which I’d left upstairs. I used to carry it everywhere; I would’ve been lost without it. Now it never rang so there was no point. Besides, I didn’t want any more surprise ex texts. “Do you have your phone?”

“Yeah,” Ben replied from directly in front of me.

I could hear him pat the sides of his pockets, and his feet scuff the concrete as he shifted position. “I, um … I don’t have it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

“No, not kidding,” he said. I could hear the amusement in his voice and I knew he was smiling.

Rain drops pounded the outside of the house relentlessly, causing a continual hum. It seemed louder now as my other senses worked hard to compensate for my blindness, honing in on sounds and smells that were more readily ignored with sight. The darkness was unyielding. There were no windows in the basement, and no light seeped down from upstairs. My eyes strained for even the slightest speck of light anyway, but there was none to be found. I didn’t want to freak out about my tiny fear of the dark, especially with Ben in front of me. I’d already fallen apart in front of him once. I couldn’t let it happen again over something stupid like a pitch-black room and bursts of thunder. It was just a storm. It was just the dark.
No big deal.

“You aren’t lying to me, are you?” I asked him, closing my eyes to relieve their strain.

“Nope,” he replied in a whisper. His voice didn’t travel far to meet my ears. “Do you want to wait it out? Sometimes the lights are back on within minutes.”

“And what about the other times?” I breathed, thinking about how close he was to me.
I’m alone in the dark with him.
The thought sent more shivers through my body.

His boots scuffed the floor, sliding a step closer. “Do you want me to leave? I’ll understand if you do. They might not come back on and that would make cleaning impossible, unless you have candles.”

He was so close I could hear his light breaths. I wanted to reach out and grope the air until my hands found him just to ease some of the sensory tension, and to not feel so alone. It would also give me an excuse to touch him, which was an idea that I couldn’t shake after all the connections we’d made today. It felt so good to be around him. I didn’t want him to leave. Whether I touched him or not, I didn’t want him to go so soon.

I took a shaky breath. “I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for candles.”

“Hey. You aren’t scared, are you?” His voice was low, soothing.

I felt his hand touch my arm and I jumped reflexively. His calloused hand cupped my bare shoulder, moving his thumb back and forth in a consoling manner. “No, I’m not scared,” I breathed.

“You sure?” He dropped his hand, effectively disappearing again.

“Yeah, just stressed.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“No,” I whispered to the darkness, knowing his chest and arms were only a hug away. I had no idea how much I craved one until this moment. Strength was something I thought I had plenty of once. Even though I lacked courage in many situations, I’d been strong enough to deal with most, especially when Gavin was involved. I wasn’t so sure I possessed it anymore, though. Ever since we’d moved, the wall had been slipping away. But Ben had strength. I felt it months ago at the will reading. I was threatened by it then, and now I just wanted to bury my face into his chest to let it surround me.
Why am I cracking around him?

“Okay,” he replied. After another loud thunder clap and a few of my deep breaths, he said, “I guess this storm is going to be one of those
other times
. I should get going.”

“Okay,” I managed to reply.

“Do you need help getting upstairs?”

“No, I’ll manage thanks.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, as if he could hear my weakness.

Did my voice tremble?
“Yeah,” I replied more confidently.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you,” I said, listening to his footfalls travel the concrete then up the steps, leaving me in the dark. I squeezed my eyes together. They were no longer irritated by the emptiness, but I was finally consumed by it. I let the tears fall as I stood alone and weak in the dark.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I barreled out LJ’s front door, into the cool rain. I felt like such an ass for leaving her in the dark, but I had to get away from her. Things were going exactly where my mind was taking them, which was definitely not the right direction this time. I wasn’t sure what I needed to do any more. She was smart, and funny, and not the person I thought she’d be. I was actually having fun hanging out with her and that was something that hadn’t happened in a while.

I rushed across the soggy grass, kicking water everywhere and soaking my jeans and boots. Looking toward the event house, I noticed it was lit up despite the power outage. At least the generator worked. If it hadn’t, Pop would’ve called me and my phone would’ve revealed my lie to LJ in the basement. The lie wasn’t simply to spend more time with her in the dark. Of course I enjoyed that part too, but I thought if I’d offered my phone she would’ve used it to leave the basement sooner, ending the search for documents. I’d planned to distract her with conversation until the lights came back on. It all backfired when I heard a tremble of fear in her voice. I wanted to help her. I wasn’t thinking about the well, about Janine, or about the property. I was thinking about her, and how I wanted to make her feel better any way I could. That’s when I knew I couldn’t stay.