to the nearest padded room.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything older than those letters,”
her mother said “During the War Between the States, many
family records were either destroyed or hidden and never
recovered. I remember when we worked at the Society more
than one woman commented on the tragic loss of family history.
And, too, so much of our past was lost during the fire.”
“What fire?” Mica asked, her heart beginning to pound
again.
“Oh, heavens, dear, I don’t recall the date. Long before my
time. Probably even before Aunt Theo’s time. I do recall,
though, something about lost stock certificates. I’m not sure
what happened, but Aunt Theo did say once if the stock had
remained in the family, there would have been no need to sell
off most of the Sea Crest land after the war.”
Mica filed that information for future reference since she
had no idea whether stock certificates played a part in this
game or not. She gathered her aunt’s letters, replacing the faded
ribbon to hold them together. Then she rose from the chair and
flexed her shoulders to relieve her tension. So much to think
about.
“I need to go, Mother. Thank you for the scrumptious meal.”
She bent to kiss her mother’s cheek, anxious now to leave and
mull over all she had learned.
“Oh, by the way, Lucy has your clothes mended. You really
should be more careful. She said she had to completely replace
your zipper.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mica waved as she exited the parlor.
Grabbing her clothes by the front door where Lucy had left
them, she headed back to her apartment. As she drove, she
plucked at the new buttons Lucy had put on her pajamas.
Now she understood what happened when she went through
the door, and she wondered if there weren’t certain rules that
had to be followed. She recalled the flower that had turned to
dust when she returned from Indigo Bay. How could she play
by the rules when she didn’t know what they were?
That night, even though she stayed at her apartment, she
dreamed of Logan, waking herself when she cried his name
out loud. She pawed through the medicine cabinet for the
sleeping pills she had depended on after her divorce. As the
capsules tumbled from the bottle into her hand, she hesitated.
She hadn’t taken the pills to Sea Crest with her and hadn’t
needed them. Why start up an old habit?
Because the answer to her question was the source of her
current sleeplessness—Thomas Logan Rutledge. She hated that
he had made her feel again, much deeper than she wanted to
admit. Besides that, he had unknowingly teased her with a life
and freedom she couldn’t have in her own time.
But she didn’t want to dream about him. She didn’t want
to recall his sensuous lips on hers, or his gentle voice and caring
nature. She didn’t want to remember, and yet his allure remained
so strong, she felt the tug on her heart even though centuries
separated them.
She contemplated her aunt’s dying words and the most
recent discovery of her letters. Before she had to return to work,
she still had time to return to Sea Crest and try to help Logan
in some as yet unfathomable way.
She couldn’t deny the whole situation intrigued her. Was
her aunt talking about Logan when she had mentioned a man
named Thomas? Why hadn’t Aunt Theo told anyone about the
door or her correspondence with Maggie? Who started the fire
at Indigo Bay? The questions piled up, intensifying the sense
of mystery surrounding Sea Crest.
Mica packed her bag for the trip back up the coast to
Cameron Island. She shook her head ruefully, knowing that by
returning to the bed & breakfast, she might lose her heart. Yet
the memory of Logan sent her senses into a tailspin.
***
Mica hadn’t tried to pass through the door during the day.
She no sooner slipped the key into the lock than a horrendous
alarm sounded from somewhere behind her. She jerked the door
shut and whirled around, her heart erratic and her skin instantly
damp with nervous perspiration.
She passed a shaking hand over blurry eyes as she tried to
focus. Even when she recognized the intruder as Professor
Bigley, jittery sensations still rippled along her spine.
He stood by the door to his room, his ghost machine
clutched to his chest and his eyes wide with disbelief. As his
gaze came to rest on her face, his mouth turned down in a
frown, and his bushy gray eyebrows lowered to show his
disappointment.
But his infernal contraption kept ringing in her ears.
“Professor, can you shut that thing off?” Mica yelled to be
heard over the racket.
His hand dropped to the box, and within seconds, silence
again shrouded the halls. “I don’t understand...” The confused
professor concentrated on his device. He flipped a switch as
he walked over to Mica, and the alarm instantly filled the air
with squawking.
Before Mica could open her mouth, he adjusted the volume
to a high-pitched beeping. Though tolerable, it still grated on
her nerves.
“Professor Bigley, you scared the wits out of me! I suggest
if your machine isn’t working, you keep it turned off so you
don’t disturb the other guests.”
“But Miss Chadwick, it is working. In fact, for several
days I picked up random signals from the north end of the
house, but I have been unable to locate the exact source. Two
days ago, the signals quit. Now they’ve started again and appear
to be very strong right around you.” He eyed her suspiciously.
Two days. She’d returned to Sea Crest two days ago before
leaving for Charleston. Now she was back, and the professor’s
signals were back. And he was inspecting her as though he
thought she was a—
“Professor Bigley, I am not a ghost.” She laughed outright
even as the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She slowly
stepped away from the door to move down the hallway. The
professor followed, and as he did, the intensity of the alarm
faded. When they reached the top of the stairs, it quit altogether.
The professor’s face scrunched into a frown again. His
fingers adjusted knobs as his gaze darted from the machine
back to her. “How odd. I thought I finally found…” He stopped
mid-sentence and looked up at her again. “I am sorry. Of course,
you’re not a ghost. It’s just the last week has given me such
hope of a discovery.”
While his words were apologetic, Mica sensed he still
considered her a spectral suspect. She started down the stairs,
knowing she could never attempt to enter the door now. “If
you would like my birth certificate—”
“No, no.” He laughed good-naturedly. “I’ll just have to
keep trying, that’s all.” He turned towards his room, and Mica
had a sinking sensation in her stomach.
“Professor?” When he stopped and turned back to her, she
continued. “Is there a way to attach a bell to your machine,
instead of that awful alarm?” She could tell he was already
lost in thought, for he murmured something incoherent as he
shuffled towards his room.
Mica’s stomachache continued as she walked down the
stairs to the main floor. What if the professor’s machine really
worked? What if he had been picking up vibrations of life from
Logan’s side of the door? Now he had apparently picked up
phenomenon from her because she had been there.
She would have to be more careful the next time she
attempted to cross the threshold into the past. Under no
circumstances did she want the professor or anyone else to
find out what lay beyond the door that supposedly didn’t open.
Mica ran into Mr. Barker at the bottom of the stairs. He
turned guiltily at her approach, his pudgy hands hidden behind
his back. Papers were strewn across the reception desk. Mica
knew Anna wouldn’t leave such a mess, and she began to
suspect Mr. Barker of mischief.
“Uh, well, Miss Chadwick, you’re back.” He made it sound
as though she shouldn’t have been there, and Mica wondered
what he was trying to hide from her.
“Of course, I’m here, Mr. Barker. I live here.” He backed
away from the desk. Mica raised a brow, glad to be in the
offensive position instead of being the guilty party as she had
with the professor. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”
“I...uh,” the man sputtered, glancing anywhere but at her.
Mica’s investigative nature kicked into fast-forward. She
stepped quickly around him before he had a chance to back
further away. His hands clutched a leather bound book, but
Mica couldn’t see the title before he swiveled to face her again.
“What do you have, Mr. Barker?” she asked, suspicious
of the rotund little man who thought to find buried treasure.
“There is no call for concern. The journal belongs to us.”
He clutched the book to his chest. “And you have given us
permission to search.” His pathetic look almost made her feel
guilty. Almost.
“The permission didn’t mean you could intrude on other
people’s privacy or property, Mr. Barker.” Mica cast a pointed
glance towards the reception desk.
To defuse the situation and shed some light on the mystery
that seemed to surround Sea Crest, Mica flashed her friendliest
smile. “Perhaps if you allowed me a glimpse of the journal, I
could help you. After all, I’ve been associated with Sea Crest
much longer than you.”
Mr. Barker handed over the journal without a qualm, his
round face glowing with enthusiasm for her support. “Why,
that would be very thoughtful of you. Not many people would
be so kind toward helping another find a treasure.”
Mica had serious doubts about any treasure, but she did
question why the Barkers thought there might be some here on
the island. She surveyed the book as quickly as possible,
because she knew if Mrs. Barker happened by, both of them
would be in trouble.
The entries were not dated, nor could she find the author’s
name inscribed on the front or back cover. The script proved
almost impossible to read, written in black ink with little regard
for legibility.
She squinted as she read out loud. “...I shall rename the
isle after myself, instead of some damned crop, which will
yield him no money after I have my way.”
Apparently whoever had compiled the journal felt a
tremendous anger, for the sentences Mica could make out were
forceful and the language abusive. She continued to read
silently.
The bastard refuses to acknowledge what is rightfully
mine. Not only does he have the land, but now the gold as
well. I shall endeavor to return when ghosts haunt the land
and a raging inferno consumes all he holds dear. Then I shall
have my revenge!
More ghosts! Mica thrust the book back into Mr. Barker’s
hands. She rubbed sweaty palms up and down her jeans, trying
to brush away the negative vibrations she sensed while holding
the book.
She took a deep breath and called on her years of training
to state the facts. “There are no names in the book. Nowhere
does it remotely mention Sea Crest. Although gold is mentioned,
what makes you think the journal is about this island?”
Mr. Barker gave her a smug smile. “You obviously have
not studied it as we have. There are references to the Cameron
Islands, and indigo, a crop grown in this specific area before
the Civil War. The journal tells a story of family strife, also
common during that period when one brother had what another
coveted.”
“How weird,” Mica mused. “ May I see that again?” It
sounds just like Logan and his stepbrother, she thought. She
held out her hand, only to have the book snatched away by red-
tipped talons.
“Certainly not!” Nadine Barker grabbed the book, her
lacquered nails beating an angry staccato on the leather cover
as she clutched it to her chest.
Her husband visibly melted under the heat of her glare.
His face reddened as his shoulders slumped. Mica might feel
sorry for him, but she wasn’t about to wither beneath the
woman’s haughty manner.
assistance since I’ve known Sea Crest all my life.” Her smile
froze the instant the other woman spoke.
“I’m sure you would be more than willing to help my
husband, Miss Chadwick.” The snide undertone in her words
could not be mistaken.
Mica bristled. “Surely you don’t think—“
“I think you’d better leave my husband, and this journal,
alone. What’s mine is mine.” The woman stepped between Mica
and her husband, and if Mica hadn’t been so angry, she would
have laughed outright.
“I have the same rules, so please confine your search to
public areas only.” Mica’s gaze swept the reception desk before
she looked the taller woman straight in the eye. “Just so we
understand each other.”
A winner in any confrontation got in the last word and left
first, so Mica sailed from the room, back straight and head
high.
***
Much later that night, she still chuckled when she thought
about Mrs. Barker’s preposterous claim that she might have
amorous intentions towards Mr. Barker. If the woman only
knew where Mica’s intentions lay, she would have heart
palpitations of her own!
She closed the overnight bag she had packed and grabbed
the key from her dresser. Locking her own door behind her,
she crept through the house barefooted, confident all the guests
were asleep. Having no idea whether Logan had returned yet
from business, she could only hope she would beat him back
to Indigo Bay. Trying to explai
n where she had been would not
be easy. It became more and more difficult to disguise the truth.
The instant she crossed over and tossed her bag onto the
bed, she felt as though she had come home from a very long
trip. Home—she smiled at the idea.
She saw lights glowing from below and followed them
down to the kitchen where she found Mattie just finishing the
dishes. She had a cup of tea with the housekeeper and visited
like old friends—another nice feeling. Even though Mattie
didn’t question her whereabouts over the past couple of days,
Mica mentioned having returned to Sea Crest on estate business
since Logan was gone.
“Master Logan is expected later in the evening,” Mattie
said as they cleared away their teacups.
“Then I may wait up for him,” Mica replied. “Good night,
Mattie.”
As Mica climbed the stairs, she contemplated her strategy.
It wouldn’t do any good to postpone telling Logan about Neil.
After all, that was the reason for her return. Mica kept telling
herself that, even as she donned her most becoming dress and
brushed her hair until it shone.
She glanced longingly at the big poster bed and decided
she’d better not wait for him in her bedroom. She wandered
into the music room, recalling the time she had come upon
Logan as he played the piano. Even then, he had captured her
heart with his soulful music and his magnetic smile. Her fingers
caressed the keys. It had been ages since she had played, though
music had been her passion when younger.
***
Logan watched Michaela from the doorway. His brow
smoothed, and his tense muscles relaxed as the music swept
away the business worries he had confronted in Charleston
over the past several days. He sighed deeply, aware it wasn’t
the music at all that made him feel this way, but her presence.
He didn’t question how or why she had appeared in his
life. He only rejoiced in the fact that she had. She was so
beautiful, her graceful hands caressing the ivory keys with
tenderness. Yet he remembered how those same hands had
touched him with urgent passion during their last night together.
God, how he had missed her!
She must have sensed his presence, for her fingers never
faltered as he laid his hands on her shoulders, bending down to