Chapter Fifteen
Sweet Dreams Plantation House
Grace did as she planned, enjoying the quiet and the small breeze blowing off the broadening bayou. Mars and Mercury nosed along parallel to her direction.
The sun inched its way to the western horizon when a tangle of broken trees and old boards blocked her path, forcing her to stop. Old boards?
She stared at the barrier, trying to detect a way through. She found one, and was about to squeeze between a few of the dead trees, when a ray of sunlight pierced through a small space, and despite the broad brim of her hat, all but blinded her.
Grace twisted her head away, scratching her cheek on a twig in the process. In the haze of her recovering vision, she spotted a man, his body highlighted by the sun. Terror speared through her. The dogs hurried to her side.
The man stood at the aft end of the ship she searched for. The ship’s rudder hung high out of the water
It has to be the same ship.
She’d found it. Fright churned in her stomach making her wish she hadn’t succeeded.
Save for the man, the sight was exactly as she’d seen it the first time, months ago when she’d convinced herself she’d imagined it. If a man could stand on the wreck, she could too. She swallowed against her rebelling stomach.
Grace studied the way before her. Dead trees wove a nearly impenetrable wall.
She peered through the tiny gaps between the deadwood.
The ship was still there, but it faded as she watched.
Shielding her eyes, she gazed skyward. The sun had sunk halfway below the horizon.
Even if she left now, she might not get back to Sweet Dreams before dark.
I have the dogs to help guide me.
“C’mon Mars, Mercury. We’ll have to head home now.”
They whined a bit.
“We’ll come back. I promise.”
With a sigh, Grace reversed direction and—one dog ahead, one behind—hurried down the path she’d found earlier.
The trail took them around the deepest part of the forest, fading to nothing as the Sweet Dreams drive came into sight.
They arrived home as the last glimmer of light winked out.
A waning crescent moon reigned over the dusk, providing scarcely enough light for her to enter the house and switch on the electric lights.
I did not imagine that ship. She considered the possibilities while she fed the dogs and the cat.
Perhaps she was only seeing what she wished to see.
Grace had no solid proof she could show to anyone, even herself.
That collection of driftwood and broken boards had not looked like a ship.
How did it all get there, and was there something beyond the barrier—or not?
Probably boards and branches alike had been dumped by a hurricane.
A completely logical, if disappointing, explanation.
A hurricane was much simpler than anything else she could think of.
Even though the bayou at that area had been fairly wide, it was probably still too shallow for any ship the size of a clipper to have navigated that far from the river.
Still, logical or not, Grace wanted to believe what she’d seen.
“I’ll have to go back,” she said to the moon as she finished her sandwich.
She sighed, exhausted with the idea of another trip through all those obstacles.
Hiking all day in the heat had left her physically tired, but too many questions swirled in her head for her to rest. The questions churned and eddied like a murmuration of starlings denying her the peace usually found during her nightly visits to the dock.
Animal sounds, heat, difficult terrain, and mental illusions had dominated her day.
Grace resented their intrusion now. She wanted cool and quiet, time to let her mind wander over all she’d seen.
However, the unanswered questions would not leave her be.
If only Luc were here. She could tell him what she’d seen. He’d confirm that she was imagining things, and she could let this nonsense go.
***
Luc waited, just out of sight from where Grace sat on the dock with the dogs. Sighting his ship today had her highly agitated.
Tonight, she wasn’t looking at the half moon.
Nor did the bayou calm her nearly perpetual emotional turmoil.
Tonight, all her defenses were up. With one arm, she hugged her knees, resting her chin between them and staring into space.
Her other hand picked idly at the threads of a worn spot on one knee of her trousers.
Below her furrowed brow, her mouth frowned.
Clearly, she was troubled.
Were the moon full he would go to her, hold her, comfort her, perhaps crack a joke and make her laugh.
However, the waxing crescent moon prevented any contact.
If Luc tried to hold her, his arms would pass right through her.
To anyone just looking, he appeared to be corporeal, but without a full moon, his ephemeral state remained.
Along with the painful push-pull of his existence, his spectral abilities increased or faded day to day, according to the moon phase which tied him to the spirit world.
With a new moon, he’d have all the abilities and all the drawbacks of a specter.
By the time of a full moon, he was completely corporeal.
However, some spectral abilities remained.
Distracting Grace when she sighted him on the Only Love had taken a great deal out of him.
She’d come dangerously close to finding the ship. All his psychic strength had been required to close the gaps in the deadwood that she could have crossed to get near the vessel.
How had she seen him?
Full sunlight should’ve made seeing him impossible.
Yet, there had been a moment, when she’d stared off to one side of the lowering sun.
In that moment, Grace obviously had seen his silhouette.
The moon hadn’t risen, neither had the light been direct from the sun.
No one else had ever caught sight of him during the day.
Moonlight, even partial moonlight, was essential to reveal him.
Or, so Luc had thought. The rules of his curse were as complex as the cycles of the moon, but he’d believed them immutable.
Grace was the first indication that anything about his curse might change, ever.
I have to know precisely what she saw today.
He must be certain that his curse held true, and if not, he must learn the cause. ’Tis the only means to ensure my safety and survival.
Was revealing himself now worth the risk?
If she never touched him, all would be fine. Luc sent an inaudible order for the dogs to hunt for rabbits. When they left, he drifted closer to the dock, where the tree shadows faded and moonlight ruled. “Hello Grace.”
Her head lifted, like a deer scenting danger. However, when she glanced over her shoulder, she smiled.
“Hello, Luc. I’ve been thinking about you.”
“I’ve been thinking about you as well.” He smiled back.
She gazed out over the bayou. “Th…that’s nice.”
She’s uncomfortable with knowing she’s in my thoughts and… He sought the thready essence of her feelings… pleased.
He ventured closer, needing to see her face. Too long had passed since the last time anyone was happy to see him or bothered thinking about him.
His sense of other people’s emotions was infallible, when the feeling was strong. However, Luc still needed to read physical clues to gain a full understanding. He bent close and peered into her eyes.
Her smile grew, becoming the smile that’d always enchanted him. However, her gaze was clouded with confusion and…regret?
“You are a dear, kind man.”
If he’d not been so rapt by her expression, he might have noticed her raised hand.
Grace placed her palm on his cheek—or what would’ve been his cheek had he been completely corporeal.
Lightning struck, paralyzing him, as her fingers passed through his face. Shock registered in her expression. Her eyes went wide, and she gaped. Screaming, she scrambled to her feet. Then she fled.
The dogs raced into the yard and howled after her.
Fool.
Cursing himself for his idiocy would be hilariously redundant, and as stupid as following to try to reason with Grace. She needed time. Time to recover her wits and some sense of equilibrium before she’d even listen to him.
Luc retreated to the Only Love. Tonight, he eschewed the ritual of toasting the moon with a whiskey. He’d explain everything to Grace. Somehow, he’d convince her he was no danger. Despite his preferences, she’d become important to him.
More than I ever imagined possible.
She might not want to listen, but he had to try.
Just the attempt might plant a seed of truth that would bear the fruit of her trust and belief in him.
Or, Grace could be so repulsed that she’d refuse to ever see him again.
That had happened before. An ancestor of Grace’s had seen Luc’s ghostly presence once and refused to believe.
The denial was so great, so intense, that no matter what he did, the woman had never again seen him, regardless of the moon phase.
While the rejection had hurt a tiny bit, Luc had accepted her denial as best for both of them.
He’d kept watch, as he did with all residents of Sweet Dreams. However, he’d made no attempt to interact with the woman or her family.
Since then, an occasional resident had seen him in moonlight.
Grace’s aunt Sarah had seen him and accepted him.
That’d been one of the few friendships of his cursed existence.
Too bad Sarah passed on before Grace learned the truth.
Sarah might’ve helped convince her niece to believe what her eyes and heart told her.
What does Grace’s heart tell her about me? Is there any chance I can gain her trust, help her to believe?
Until he confronted her, Luc couldn’t know. Waiting was all he could do. He was good at that. He’d been waiting ninety-eight years and would probably wait for several hundred more before he met his doom.