Southern Secrets (The Southern Series Book 2) Read online

  We chattered away as we ate supper and then lingered at the table while Mr. Jackson and Everett enjoyed an evening cup of coffee. Claudia offered to help me clear the table and wash dishes, so we left Constance to visit with Mr. Jackson, giving her the opportunity to ask him what he’d found out about the voodoo dream superstitions, and show him the information she had printed online. After we’d finished the dishes, Claudia took Ava upstairs to give her a bath and read a bedtime story. I returned to the dining room to find Everett alone.

  “Did Mr. Jackson leave?” I asked him as he gazed out the dining room windows.

  “Yes. He begins to get nervous at dusk, he’s always afraid to be out after dark. Mr. Philippe and Constance just walked him home, and they’re on their way back…” his voice trailed off.

  “Ev, you seem to be a million miles away tonight. Is something bothering you?” I asked him warily.

  He finally turned to me as Mr. Philippe opened the front door. “Oh, Bebe, when you’re as old as I am, you have countless memories that sometimes hit you out of nowhere. I’ve just been slammed with a couple today. I’m just a bit maudlin, that’s all.”

  “Are you going to let me in on these memories, or are you going to be the mysterious Aldon again?” I asked exasperatedly.

  “I told you, you aren’t quite ready for my story, Ma Petite. When you are, I’ll let you know. Now, scoot. Don’t you have a computer to get ready for your big internet hook-up?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes. I do. I’ll just be upstairs.”

  As I checked my watch, I realized I still needed to hook the camera up and test it, so I hurried up the staircase into my room. I should have known, everything was already connected and lying in the center of my bed, with handwritten instructions beside the computer from Everett. He’d even fixed me a cup of hot cocoa and placed it on the nightstand. Everett, my fairy godmother, I thought with a smile.

  Since I had a few minutes to kill, I decided to download the pictures I had taken on my camera and save them to the computer. I hooked the camera up on the dock on my dresser, and hit the send button. As the images flashed on the screen in sequence, I realized I had quite a lot stored on the camera I hadn’t even looked at. After about ten minutes the download was finished, and I began to flip through the pictures. There were pictures of Banton on our trip to New Orleans, of the house in various stages of our remodel, of Laurilee and Dan, John and Brie at Christmas. The sweetest picture popped up of Ava Grace asleep on the tray of her little high chair the day Everett and I found her. Our honeymoon pictures were next, the shots that Banton took hurriedly the last morning we were there. Finally, the pictures from today began to pop up. The shot of Mr. Jackson sleeping on his front porch, and then the cemetery images – I could see a haze where the form of the soldier had been, but I couldn’t make out any colors.

  “Oh, man, I just knew he would show on film,” I said disappointedly to myself as I studied the picture. Then I flipped to the next set of pictures. There, standing over the headstones of the three graves, was the outline of a confederate soldier. It looked as if he was posing, like someone had super-imposed an old photo over the picture of the headstones. I shivered as I continued to flip through the pictures. His form appeared in every picture I took of the graves.

  That’s odd, I thought. We didn’t see him there, but he’s in the pictures. I enlarged a couple to study them on the screen. As I gazed at the outline of the soldier’s face my computer beeped, alerting me I had a message online. I bumped the mouse hurriedly, and Banton’s face appeared on my screen. My heart leapt…it was as if I hadn’t seen him in weeks.

  “Hey, sweetheart, turn your camera on, I can’t see you…are you there?” he asked as I fumbled for the switch.

  “There! Hey beautiful, how’s everything going?” He grinned at me on the screen.

  “Fine. Everett’s here twenty-four seven, or Grant, or Mr. Philippe…Ev’s trying to keep me entertained, and keep my mind off your absence. It’s not working very well…” I said wistfully as I gazed hungrily at his handsome face.

  “What did the doctor say, you didn’t text me,” he scolded me.

  “Everything looks great, the tear is actually healing. He said I could resume normal activities. Of course, you aren’t here…”

  “I’m relieved, but I wish I was there. Are you eating right?”

  “Yes, like a horse. Enough about me. Are you okay? How are your ops going there?” I asked anxiously.

  “Andie, you know I can’t tell you anything. Everything is on schedule, and I hope to be home in a couple of weeks.” He glanced down and then back up at me.

  “A couple of weeks? You’ve already been gone almost a week, I thought you’d be home by next weekend!” I protested, letting my disappointment show.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t think it will be so soon. We’ll just have to see…What else is going on there?” He abruptly changed the subject.

  “Claudia and Ava Grace showed up this afternoon, she was worried about you leaving me so soon after the wedding. Ava has been entertaining us with a new batch of dolls. Oh, and Mr. Jackson came down and ate with us tonight.”

  “That’s good. We haven’t seen him in a while.” He became silent, studying my expression.

  “I miss you so much,” I began.

  “I miss you too, you are so beautiful…it hurts to look at you this way, and not be able to touch you.”

  There was several seconds of more silence as we took each other in. His eyes seemed an even more velvety shade of brown than usual, the stubble on his face giving him a sexy, edgy look. I sighed, thinking I craved his touch right now.

  “Have you had any more bad dreams?” he asked.

  “Not since you left. Everett says I toss and turn too much, but he hasn’t had to wake me. He thinks I need some exercise to help me sleep. So we walked to the cemetery this afternoon, and I took pictures of the graves I told you about. I’m going to do a little research about them, to help pass the time while you’re away.” I chattered away about the trivial things going on.

  “That’s good. I’m glad you’re walking, but just be careful going down there,” he began, and then turned to look behind him. “I have to go now, Chandler. I’ll try to contact you again Sunday night, if I can. I love you so, so much!” He kissed his fingers, and then pressed them to the screen.

  “Me too. With all my heart,” I kissed my fingers, and then pressed them to his lips on the screen, and as my eyes began to water, my screen fell silent. I sat there several minutes, and stared at the blank screen.

  “Knock knock, can I come in?” Constance tapped lightly on the door.

  “Sure, it’s open,” I called back, shutting my computer and wiping the tears from my eyes. She pushed the door open and Beau slid around her, bounding over to the bed and placing his head on the mattress.

  “Good Boy, Beau,” I murmured, rubbing his ears. He lifted his head, and then circled around his rug, before plopping down and laying his head down on his front paws as he did every night.

  “Did you talk to Banton?” she asked as she sank down on the bed next to me. As she searched my eyes, I noticed hers were red-rimmed as well.

  “Yes. It was hard seeing him and not being able to touch him,” I said wistfully.

  “Ty called me on my cell. He didn’t say a lot, and wouldn’t talk about us. He just told me he loves me, and would see me in a couple of weeks,” she sighed, and lay back against the pillows next to me. She grasped my hand and began to swing it up, back and forth as we both studied the ceiling.

  “Sweet Jesus, but you two are pathetic. Come on, let’s don’t all be weepy tonight. What can we do to cheer you up?” Everett breezed into the room with Mr. Philippe close behind. Constance and I filled them in on our brief conversations with our men. I then broached the subject we’d all been avoiding.

  “I know you met with the other Aldon, after Banton and the others were called back. What do you know?” I asked Mr. Philippe.

>   “Well, I’m at liberty to tell you even less than Banton can. Let’s just say there are more than just the SEALs hard at work right now. They are not alone, but they may not know it.

  “That does make me feel better. What about here? Has there been any activity around here?” I asked. “I haven’t seen anything since we’ve been back.” I glanced back and forth between him and Everett.

  “Don’t take anything for granted, Ma Petit Bebe. Danger still lurks, it is just hidden for now. Don’t be going out alone, and stay out of the cemetery and your yard after dark. There are those who bide their time and will look for weakness. We can’t afford to let our guard down,” Everett cautioned as I shuddered. Constance finally yawned and exclaimed, “I can’t hold my eyes open another minute. I’m turning in. See y’all in the morning, Darlin’s!”

  After kissing everyone on the cheek, Constance bounced off her perch on the bed and left to sleep in John’s room, Mr. Philippe following.

  Later in the night, Everett rested beside my bed on a mattress on the floor. He lay quietly, reading in the dark. I’d discovered, after all this time, he actually never slept. His eyesight was so sharp, he could read text in the moonlight and it creeped me out. There were still times the whole supernatural thing just sort of slipped up and startled me all over again. My mind was troubled; sleep would be a worrisome task tonight. My thoughts trailed over the conversations from the earlier hours around the dining table.

  Wind whistled around the pillars on the decaying front porch, howling and blowing bits of trash and leaves up from the dead, barren yard. I could hear footsteps and smell the rank smell of the Orco who continually stalked me. Grabbing the knob on the front door, I fought to pull it open, to reach the warm safety of the house. I froze in fear…I could feel his hot breath on my neck as he came up from behind me. I held my breath as I sensed his touch on my neck…I whirled, just as two little girls ran up on to the porch, calling out in a panic.

  “Mommy, run, Mommy! They are here, Mommy, no!” The little girls screamed out as two men grabbed them from behind. I struck the Orco behind me hard with my elbow and he stumbled backwards off the porch. Running to pull another off of the little girl, I heard laughter as the Orco behind me reached out and grabbed my arms, jerking me from the porch while the two other intruders silenced the little girls’ screams…

  “Bebe, wake up! It’s just a dream, open your eyes,” Everett urged as I fought the fog in my head. I focused on his face and relaxed. He sat on the side of the bed, holding my shoulders in his hands.

  “Everett, I’m sorry. I can usually wake myself, but this dream was a little different,” I whispered.

  “Different how?” he asked as he flipped on the lamp beside the bed.

  “I don’t know how to explain it. I was more afraid for the children, the two little girls in the dream, than myself. I was conscious of dreaming, but I didn’t want to wake until I knew they were all right.”

  He nodded, pulling me up into his arms. He held me tightly for several seconds and then lay me back down into the pillows.

  “How did you know?” I asked him after several more seconds of silence. “Was I talking in my sleep?”

  “No. I just…I just knew. I could smell the cold, north wind, leaves, and an Orco,” he stated quietly. He brushed several stray hairs behind my ear. “I could sense you felt threatened but you didn’t want to come back…” he trailed off and paused as he shut his eyes. Then he abruptly opened them, staring at me, the glow increasing around the irises in his eyes.

  “Don’t ever do that again, ever! It made me extremely uncomfortable! Never resist waking up, please,” he pleaded with me in an unearthly voice that startled me.

  “Okay, I’m sorry, Everett. Calm down, I promise.”

  “Good. Now, where are you hurt?” He looked me over as I rubbed my arms. He examined them and then looked back up at me.

  “You have a new set of bruises. Banton won’t be happy with me, I have to be quicker!” he exclaimed, flipping the lamp off. “Now, sleep. Everett’s here.” He pulled me back down into the pillows, his arms around me as he urged me to find sleep once more.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next few days dragged by even slower than the first week. None of my classes held my attention for long, and even the one writing class in which I’d enrolled this semester seemed interminable. Everything was assigned, there was no freedom, no creativity such as I had experienced in the first semester. I decided to work on the side on my own project, since everything I’d been assigned was completed and I had no tests in the immediate future. Friday after classes were over I decided to go down to the courthouse and see what documentation I could find on my house.

  Finding a parking space turned out to be an adventure in itself, so when one opened up right in front as I circled the block for the tenth time I felt victory. I had no idea what I was looking for, just that I needed a history of the owners of my house.

  “May I help you dear?” A petite, trim, elderly lady peered over her readers at me from behind the counter in the Parish Clerk’s office.

  “Yes Ma’am. I’m looking for records on the property I recently bought.”

  “And what is the address?” she asked as she typed on a small keypad attached to a monitor on the counter.

  “505 Rue Dauphine,” I responded.

  She peered over her readers again. “Oh, my, that area is kind of rundown, isn’t it? I hope you aren’t living there alone,” she admonished me.

  “No Ma’am, I’m not,” I assured her. “We’re restoring an old house. There are several in the neighborhood in various stages of remodel. I want to find out a little history on the house. Can you help me?”

  She smiled and her face took on a grandmotherly appearance, the creases at the corners of her eyes planted deeply into laugh lines.

  “Certainly, dear. I will do what I can,” she replied in her velvety soft, sweet voice

  She led me over to a counter to be seated and then walked down an isle behind the counter, stooping to slide a large worn volume of papers from a bottom shelf. Returning to where I was seated, she opened the volume, and the musty smell of the pages in the old records started my heart pounding with excitement.

  “According to the computer, your house was built in 1860, completed just before the Civil War broke out. There should be some records in here.” She flipped several pages and then stopped. “Here it is. The house was part of a forty acre tract of land, deeded over to a daughter from her father, a Judge Frederick Johnson. The daughter’s name was Marie. The property has changed hands several times over the years and was divided into lots when the City of Baton Rouge reached its edge. The land around the house was broken up into sections and sold for building sites in the late nineteen forties, probably part of a building boom the city experienced after World War II ended.”

  “That would explain why there aren’t any other houses resembling mine within several blocks. My house is antebellum, the others were obviously built mid-century!” I exclaimed happily, putting to rest one of the puzzling questions I had about the neighborhood.

  “Do you know anything about the cemetery about a quarter- mile up the road?” I asked as I continued to scan the pages with her.

  “Yes, I do, actually.” She smiled sweetly at me and then continued. “It is one of the oldest cemeteries in the city. It was there long before any of the houses were close to it. I believe the legend is there was once a large Catholic Church there, but the church is long since gone, burned during the Civil War. Countless casualties were interred there as the church was used as a hospital during that time. But the cemetery dates much older, I believe hundreds were buried there originally after devastating yellow fever epidemics and other illnesses ravaged this country in the late seventeen hundreds.”

  “There is so much more history to the place than I had even imagined. I have to go back out there and search some more headstones.”

  “Are you a genealogist, dear?” she asked sw
eetly.

  “No Ma’am, actually I’m at student at LSU right now, and I want to be a writer. I’m intrigued with my house and cemetery. I just want to know more about it and maybe I’ll write the history,” I explained.

  “I think that is wonderful! I wish you the best. Here, let me take this to the copy machine for you, I can make copies of anything we have on your property for a small fee and a promise you will let me read your wonderful story someday.” She peered at me over her readers again and her eyes twinkled.

  “Yes Ma’am, thank you. That would be great.”

  After several minutes, she returned with my papers. After I paid the fee for the copy services and thanked her again, I turned to go out the door to the office.

  “Oh, my dear, there is something else I thought of just now, about the cemetery…” she called to me.

  “Yes?” I turned to answer her.

  She came out around the counter and removed the readers from her eyes. “I’ve heard there is a large section of graves beyond the boundary of the cemetery. These graves were where the slaves from the nearby plantation were buried. Untold numbers of them were unmarked, lost over time. There is a legend says some of the surrounding neighborhoods behind the cemetery were built right over some of the overgrown plots. That cemetery is supposed to be one of the most haunted places around here…haunted with the civil war dead and all the slaves.”

  I shuddered, and then she smiled again. “Please let me know how your research comes out. I wish you luck!” She waved at me as I left the office.

  * * *

  I hurried home, excited about the documents I’d found to start my research. I wanted to share what I’d found with Everett, and to get him to take me back to the cemetery for another look. When I turned onto my street, the only car besides Claudia’s in the driveway was Grant’s.

  “Shoot, Everett must still be at the shop,” I muttered to myself as I jumped out into the driveway. I ran up the stairs and into the foyer, eager to share my findings with Claudia.