Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Several days later, my conversation with Henry was still troubling me—mostly because I didn’t know who he was talking about. Who was this woman in the wall? Why could he see her and I couldn’t?
“Zellie, darlin’,” June asked, “are you feeling alright? You haven’t eaten a bite of my tomato pie.”
“No one makes one better,” Earl said with a wink. “Secret’s in the bacon.”
I forced a smile. “I’m sorry, Ms. June,” I replied. “I’ve not been myself lately.”
“Well, then, you’ll definitely want to try some of these fried oysters, Zellie,” Merilee said with a sly grin. “They’re the cure for what ails you.”
“Oh, now,” Pearlie scolded, “you leave the poor girl alone, Merilee. She’s had a rough time of it.”
I flushed at Merilee’s insinuation about the oysters’ reputation as an aphrodisiac and risked a glance at Whit, praying he hadn’t heard her.
But he was rapidly typing on his phone, his brows drawn together in a deep frown.
Whatever the subject, it must’ve been urgent if he was willing to risk incurring Pearlie’s wrath for using his phone at the table.
Earlier, I’d caught a glimpse of a message from someone identified only as CP, and it had led to the same dark, shuttered expression he wore now.
Fresh from his business trip up north, he seemed worn down—fatigue in the slump of his shoulders, tension in his jaw.
And the way he stayed locked on that phone told me whatever he’d been dealing with hadn’t gone well.
Even when he finally set the phone face-down beside his plate, agitation clung to him like a shadow.
But then he looked up and caught me watching him. His eyes held mine, and something in his expression cleared, softened, as if a weight had slipped from his shoulders. Relief flickered across his face, subtle but unmistakable, like he hadn’t truly come home until that moment.
I broke our shared gaze first, but I’m sure he saw the small, secret smile tugging at my lips.
“You are looking peak-ed, baby,” Pearlie pressed, her words cutting across our moment. “Are you sleeping? Should Henry comes stay with June or me for the night, let you get a good night’s sleep?”
“Thank you, Ms. Pearlie,” I said sincerely. “But I don’t think that will help. There have been some…disturbances in my apartment.”
Whit shifted slightly in his chair. “Junior, could you please pass the cornbread down this way?”
“What kind of disturbances?” Junior asked, absently passing the plate of skillet cornbread to Whit.
I hesitated, mulling over whether to say anything.
I’d gone over it many times in my head since the events in the bathroom, realizing I needed help to deal with what was going on, even if it was just permission to do a cleansing or bring in a priest for a blessing.
As much as I would’ve liked to help the women who were tormenting Henry and me, I couldn’t deal with this on my own any longer.
I took a deep breath and blurted, “I think my apartment’s haunted.”
There was complete silence as each of them stared at me, their expressions impossible to read. Then, almost in unison, they laughed.
All but Whit.
“Oh, honey,” June said, patting my hand. “It’s Savannah. Everywhere is haunted.”
“Lord,” Chase added. “I thought you meant we had rats or something. I was about to be worried.”
They chuckled again and returned to their food.
I scanned their faces. Not a single one of them looked surprised or even concerned. Did they already know about the women? About David? When I’d asked Pearlie and June about him before, they’d waved me off like Henry had imagined his new friend.
Sensing my bafflement, Merilee leaned over and gave me a hug with one arm. “Don’t worry, Zellie-girl. We’ve all seen a ghost or two in our time.”
I glanced at Whit. His gaze locked with mine again, steady and unflinching, as if silently assuring me in his quiet, attentive way, that he understood my concerns, that he could feel the panic just under my skin even from several feet away and wasn’t about to dismiss it so easily.
Of course, unlike the others, he’d witnessed an incident first-hand. He’d seen the kitchen after David had torn it apart.
So then why didn’t he say anything? Make them understand that this wasn’t something I could laugh off like they did?
Then I realized—maybe because I hadn’t been completely honest with him about the seriousness of the situation. I’d waved it off, downplayed what had been going on because I didn’t want him to think I was crazy.
I dutifully ate my dinner and tried to pay attention to and enjoy the after-dinner conversation as we moved out to the patio so Henry and Addie could play and so Junior and Earl could enjoy the cigars that their wives refused to allow them to smoke indoors.
Merilee made her excuses after a while and left with a plate of food for Ms. Netty, with Chase in tow with food for Billy Wayne and Kitty.
“I’m surprised not to see Billy Wayne and Kitty here,” I told Pearlie. “And I haven’t seen Mr. Dean since his party.”
“Mmhmm,” Pearlie replied, nodding. “Kitty’s having some complications, so she’s keeping mostly to her bed. And Billy Wayne is working extra shifts at the docks, from what I understand from Iris.”
So maybe I wasn’t the only one at Dawes House who wasn’t living comfortably.
It seemed odd that Iris would be privy to the Wrights’ financial situation, but I supposed it made sense for Iris to know everyone’s comings and goings since she ran the apartment building.
But there was still something odd about what Pearlie shared that nagged at me.
“And, well,” Pearlie continued, “Mr. Dean has never been particularly social in his old age. He was quite the catch back in the day, but he didn’t handle aging very well. Some people don’t, I suppose. Vanity knows no boundaries.”
“Here you go, y’all,” Earl called, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Bringing out the good stuff for a little after-dinner digestif tonight, Junior?”
Junior chuckled and held up a decanter of a deep purple wine. “You’re gonna have to try this elderberry wine, Zellie,” he said. “It’s my own recipe.”
“You shouldn’t force it on her, Junior,” Whit said, his tone taut with disapproval.
I cast him a confused look but then smiled at Junior. “I’d be happy to try it!” I told him. “I’ve never had elderberry wine.”
“There you go!” Junior said to Whit.
I politely accepted the glass of wine he handed to me and took a sip, letting the delicious liquid flow down my throat.
“You might want to let that breathe,” Whit said softly near my ear. The nearness of him, the warmth of his breath, brought goosebumps to my skin.
I took another sip to divert my attention from the effect he had on me. “This is unbelievable,” I said, licking an errant drop from my lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything like it.”
Something flared in his eyes, but he dropped his gaze before I could catch more than a glimpse. “Yes,” he said, savoring a sip from his own glass. “Junior is quite the artiste. But don’t overdo it. His wines are particularly strong if you’re not used to them.”
Despite Whit’s warning, I somehow found my glass refilled time and again and finally had to set it aside to keep from being tempted.
I don’t recall being tipsy. It was more a sense of peaceful euphoria and hyperawareness.
The flowers in the garden were brighter and more vibrant than I’d ever seen.
The breeze kissed my bare arms, the light caress both sensuous and erotic.
I could hear every sound with disorienting clarity—the crickets chirping, the noise of traffic a few blocks away, the tolling of the bells at the Cathedral.
No, “tipsy” isn’t the right word for what I experienced.
I had never tried drugs, but I imagined this is what it was like to be “tripping balls.”
And through it all, I was acutely aware of Whit—his voice, his warmth, his scent, the way his hand hovered near the small of my back, close enough to make my pulse spike but not touching me until I leaned in the tiniest bit.
And then the slight pressure of his fingertips as he curled me into him stole my breath.
“Are you alright?”
I turned toward the voice and had to blink a few times before her face came into focus.
Pearlie.
“Um…yes, ma’am,” I managed even as my skin grew warm, becoming so unbearable, I wanted to strip down naked and plunge into an ice bath to try to slake the heat ravaging my body.
“Hmm…” Pearlie mused. “You don’t look fine, baby. I think maybe you’ve had too much of Junior’s wine. It can be a bit strong for first-timers.”
“Which all of you knew,” Whit pointed out, his tone harsh, accusing. I thought I saw him peg the others with a furious glare. “I’m taking Zellie back to her apartment.”
“She shouldn’t be alone,” June warned. “Not in this state.”
“Don’t worry,” Whit snapped. “I’ll look after her.”
“Henry,” I called, my voice sounding like I was talking in slow motion. “It’s time to go, baby.”
“Why don’t you let him stay with me tonight?” June offered with a comforting smile.
“No, no,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s okay. I don’t want to impose. I just need to…sit down for a…for a few minutes.”
“Nonsense,” June said. “Henry? Do you want to spend the night with Mamaw June, honey?”
Henry came running over, Addie on his heels. “Yes, ma’am! Can I, Mama?”
I was about to protest, but the world tilted, and I grabbed Whit’s arm to steady myself. “Sure,” I told Henry, nodding carefully, the simple movement disorienting. “Yeah, that’s okay.”
Henry gave me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek before scampering off to play. My heart ached a little at how quickly he’d taken June up on her offer. But before I could call him back to me and tell him I’d changed my mind, Pearlie took my hand in both of hers.
“You’ll be just fine,” she said with a comforting smile. “All just part of the process.”
I frowned. “Process? What do you mean?”