Chapter 4
My neighbor visited me. She was seeking a solution, bathed in shame, because her father’s employer (I dare not name him here, the fear in the village is mounting) had mounted her without her permission.
But I was able to care for her. She will not rue for the rest of her life, only for a few days.
I counselled her that the tea would bring about a sickness, but it would be temporary.
The malaise in her mind will vex her forever.
These injustices, far too common, burn in my breast, but alas, I can only treat the cursed outcome, not the initial act.
Present Day
After the shop had closed for the night, Mercy jingled the keys in her hand, delaying the moment when she must step inside.
“You’re sure this is the house you want to buy?” Of all the houses in Driftwood Pointe, he was interested in the old Briggs house. The house was a bit of a sore point for her.
It was too bad he was interested in the one place guaranteed to dull her attraction.
A twinge of discomfort crossed his face. “My client wants to buy it.”
Mercy stood on the doorstep, reluctant to cross the threshold.
By today’s standards, the house wasn’t that large, though in the late 1600s, this house had been built by one of the wealthiest families in the area.
The same family who’d been responsible for the death of her namesake.
The Briggs family had accused Mercy Finch of being a witch.
She’d been hanged months later. The last of the townspeople to perish from the witch trials.
The Briggs family left soon after and never returned.
The historical marker, in cream and black, noted “Built for John and Sarah Briggs, circa 1690.”
Zane Bridges traced the lettering, his touch almost reverent.
“I’m from California. Everything is new there.” He offered the explanation without her asking, but his actions felt like more than just an admiration of the age of the building.
“This is an original First Period house. Traditional “flat” front, five windows across the front upstairs facade, mimicked on the ground floor, with a single door in the center.” He recited the details like he was listing the options for his dream house with wonder in his voice.
Mercy fitted the key in the lock and braced for a buzz of psychic energy from entering this house. She was probably casting her own apprehension into the void. There really wasn’t a malevolent spirit that would harm her, Mercy’s descendant, when she walked inside. Right? “What do you do?”
“Architect.” His phone rang.
“Do you need to get that?”
“I’ll answer in a sec.” He gestured for her to enter first. “After you.”
Mercy braced. A blast of wind pushed her inside. Zane was also swept along by the force of the gust.
The wind sucked back out, and the door slammed. Bang!
They were left standing inside. Mercy’s heart thundered against her breastbone.
“That’s quite the welcome.” Zane’s voice immediately calmed her.
“Meow.”
Mercy jumped. A black kitten with a white patch around one of his green eyes wandered into the room. “What the heck?”
Zane bent to the cat. “Hello there, little one. How did you get in here?” The cat rubbed its head against his palm.
Mercy pressed a hand to her chest and breathed in slowly. She’d avoided looking at the house, but now she needed to take stock while Zane was occupied with the kitty.
The house was… empty.
No furniture. No pictures on the walls. No malevolence, no boogeyman jumping out to terrify her, no evil spirits swirling in the air. Yes, she was afraid of evil spirits, but she had the tools to confront them when needed.
No need. Just a small black cat who shouldn’t be inside an empty building.
His phone rang again. “I need to answer this.”
“Knock yourself out.” Mercy would just wander around, trying to get a read on the house. She didn’t feel anything, just her own discomfort at being in a piece of history that had directly affected her family.
“Hey.” He turned away from her. His voice had gentled. “I just got into the house.”
Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Whoever was on the phone wasn’t just a client.
He chuckled. “Let me look around. I’ll take video so you can see it. Assuming that’s okay with the owner. I’ll call you later.”
He hung up. “Sorry about that.”
She was dying of curiosity. “Your client?”
“My sister.” He kept his phone out. “And my client. I’d like to do a video walk through if you think the owner won’t mind.”
Mercy shrugged. “I have no idea who owns it. This house has been vacant for over a hundred years. But it’s always been maintained.
” She had been curious about it, but she’d forced herself to leave it alone.
The townspeople whispered about the house every year around the time of Mercy Finch’s hanging.
But otherwise, it stood as a testament to a time when wisewomen were persecuted for caring for their neighbors.
No good could come from digging up old trauma.
He deliberately walked through the house, waxing poetic about period details. “This newel post is likely original. They were later in the period and only very wealthy people had them.” He stroked the wood like it was a lover.
What would it be like to be worshiped with that kind of awe?
He had more appreciation for this house than any of her previous boyfriends had for her body. Mercy’s heart longed for that kind of devotion.
How strange, to envy an inanimate building. Her face flushed.
Nope. Not going there.
Of course, a fling with a stranger wouldn’t be a bad thing, would it?
Tasha had been wrong before. And Mercy hadn’t told her therapist everything. She truly wasn’t that upset about Jason. This guy could be a palate cleanser.
They walked through the house. In a hypnotic voice, he videoed, listing the period features like some people would talk about their lovers.
“This central fireplace would have heated the entire house.” He ran his fingers over the bricks, lingering on the mortar between them. “These bricks are hand-molded. See the irregular sizes and shapes and the lime mortar? It’s in incredible condition.”
When he was admiring the details, she could forget that the people who’d built this house had inflicted generational trauma on her family.
But the twist in her stomach wouldn’t go away. “If you say so.”
After standing empty for over a century, the house should have been musty, but oddly, it smelled faintly of herbs.
A brick fell out from the bottom of the fireplace, near the firebox, almost hitting her toes.
She yelped and jumped back. She needed to keep control of her emotions. When she forgot to keep tight rein, magic happened.
“Strange.” He stared at the brick on the floor but thankfully didn’t seem to connect it to her. The kitten rubbed up against the fireplace, purring.
He paused the video and knelt, then peering into the opening where the brick used to be, He dug his fingers into the space.
“What are you looking for?”
“Just trying to figure out why that fell.”
Maybe she hadn’t caused the brick to fall. Was the house trying to tell her something?
He popped up and dusted off his hands.
“Let’s keep going.”
He pressed resume on the video, and they headed up the steep staircase. He recited more details about the house, making comments about keeping the original period features where appropriate and talking about renovations to modernize the kitchen and bathrooms.
One bedroom had phenomenal light. “This would be a great room for the babies.”
“Babies?”
“She’s pregnant with twins.”
There was a bit of strain in his voice, but she wasn’t going to pry.
“She decided that she wants to move to the East Coast, fresh start from a bad breakup.”
His voice had softened again.
“Why this house? Driftwood Pointe is really far away from California.”
A flash of something—guilt maybe—crossed his face. She wasn’t sure why he would be guilty, but she filed the information away.
“If Abby wants to create a new beginning, I’m going to help her achieve it.”
What an amazing brother. As an only child, she’d never had that. She had cousins in town, Tom, the local veterinarian, and his family. They were close enough for the obligatory Thanksgiving dinner, but it was always awkward.
If she ever needed anything, they would help her out. She just never asked. “What’s your sister’s name?”
“Abigail, but she goes by Abby.”
That kind of support must be nice. “She’s lucky to have you.”
After a solid hour, he was ready to leave. “That’s enough for today. Thank you for showing me the house.”
“Well, if Eleanor decreed it, I’m not about to challenge her directive.” Mercy knew better than to cross the elder woman.