Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
W ith her legs tucked underneath her on the leather armchair and a blanket thrown over her lap for good measure, Ashley should be falling asleep. She was warm, dry, and full. She’d had a companionable evening, laughing about old stories and avoiding any serious talk. She’d come so close to unburdening her heart, only to have the good sense at the last second to hold her tongue. Following the day’s excitement, she should be exhausted. She shouldn’t be awake and replaying every moment of the day.
But she was too wired to sleep.
At ten on the dot, Christopher had ordered coffee. She had slurped almost the entire carafe on her own. He’d fallen asleep an hour ago.
The chairs were angled to face the windows.
Outside, the sky was a rich, dark velvet studded with diamonds. The moon shone bright as a spotlight. The world was resting.
His deep snores threatened the quiet peace. She smiled. For a long time, she’d been unable to sleep through an entire night alone. It wasn’t missing a warm body next to her. She produced enough heat to sleep without covers through winter.
She’d missed the snoring. She could fall asleep but couldn’t stay asleep without the white-noise machine effect of his breathing. She wouldn’t rouse him to stop. The noise was reassuring and comforting.
If he knew he snored, he’d do everything he could to stop. He hated to be an inconvenience to anyone. She’d miss the imperfection.
She narrowed her gaze back toward the windows. The lights in the office were turned off. She was sitting in the dark, but her vision had long ago adjusted to the night. She scanned the lighthouse, now covered in caution tape and scaffolding.
The spiral staircase remained but the rest of the building was a pile of debris. He’d need to knock the whole thing down before going further. The metal risers held no historic significance. Starting fresh made the most sense. And not just about the building.
She was becoming her own worst enemy with a self-fulfilling prophecy that she couldn’t do anything without help. She’d grown up with every need and most wants fulfilled. On her own, she still had someone else to rely on. She’d come back and done nothing but cause trouble.
What if she really tried? Could she go somewhere and start over and find success? Did she want to?
Stay . The force of the word reverberated from deep in her chest, shaking her. Maybe believing in the power of a fresh start was part of the problem. Why would she want to reinvent herself? In Loon Lake, she was the sum total of her actions from birth. It was, at times, painful and embarrassing. Any acquaintance—no matter how casual—could recall some of her worst moments in a few seconds or an off-hand phrase. She still didn’t laugh about the time she got stuck to a totem pole, the thick tar nearly taking off a layer of the skin on her palms as Lonnie Treacle had to help Zach Jenkins’ dad peel her off.
But she also knew she could count on anyone for help. Even if she did something ridiculously, epically ill-advised. Like pretending to be a ghost and setting fire to a town landmark.
She wouldn’t accept ownership of that accident. She’d replayed the situation hundreds of times in her head and couldn’t work out how it could be anything but a ghost. Batteries could combust. But how would a tiny votive cause such a spark? The community wouldn’t believe her but neither would anyone think poorly of her for her conviction.
With people who knew her, she had family. They had lived a shared history and still could have many struggles and triumphs to celebrate and endure together. Giving up and moving on wasn’t in the cards. She’d tried. She’d never found happiness with any relocation. Belonging was far more valuable than a first impression.
Movement caught in the corner of her eye.
She untucked her legs, leaving the blanket in the chair and tiptoeing to the window. Her muscles ached from too long in a pretzel-like twist. Her ankle cracked. She froze and turned.
Back on his chair, Christopher shifted but continued to snore.
At the window, she squinted and looked at the lighthouse. She couldn’t see anything or anyone. She didn’t have the skin-crawling sensation that preceded every encounter with the ghost. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what to think about the entity. While the ghost had started the fire, the spirit had saved her from the building collapse. The fire secured her a nice warm bed. Maybe the ghost cared about her. Why?
Looking at the lighthouse again, she still saw nothing unusual. The water’s dark surface was smooth as glass under the bright moon. She didn’t see any shadows and heard nothing. Reason stood that all remained as it should. But she couldn’t shake her certainty either.
She crossed to his chair and grabbed his shoulder, gently shaking him. “Christopher. Christopher,” she murmured.
He opened his eyes and yawned. “Hmm?” A lazy smile spread over his face. “Come back to bed.” He reached for her.
Fool that she was, she almost swayed into his touch. She longed to be held, safe and secure. But they wouldn’t find peace until they got to the bottom of the treachery at the lighthouse.
She stepped back. “We’re not in bed.” Her voice cracked. She coughed. “Wake up. I think someone is at the lighthouse.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Ashley? What time is it?” His voice was low and gravelly, and he blinked several times, twisting his neck from side to side.
“Not very late. Maybe eleven fifteen?” She glanced at the clock on her phone and snorted, showing him the screen.
“Eleven forty? How long have I been asleep?”
“I don’t know. An hour? Come on.” She grabbed the blanket off his lap and tossed it onto her chair. “We have to go.”
He got to his feet and brushed past her, his shoulder rubbing hers in a whisper of a touch.
She sucked in a breath, achingly aware of his nearness. Her skin electrified from the accidental contact, zinging down to her toes. She had never wanted anyone in such a maddening, all-consuming, fiery way as she wanted her husband. From the first hint of puberty, she couldn’t seem to shake her addiction.
“Let’s take the flashlights.” He strode to the desk and grabbed them, tossing one to her.
She caught it and followed him to the door in the front corner of the room. With a shake, she tamped down her hormones.
He opened the door and flashed the light on the handrail. “Hold on as you go down. I don’t want to turn on the lights.”
“This is like a secret passage.” She followed behind him, the stairs wrapping in a tight spiral.
“Or my own personal escape hatch,” he said, his voice threaded with something dark and funny. “No one is allowed to use it but me. Saves a lot of time when I’m needed downstairs.”
At the bottom, he held out his hand.
She grabbed it. Her stomach flipped and fluttered at the contact. Her body eased into the muscle memory of his warm touch. He’d always been her safe harbor. Even when he was taking her to places she’d never dreamt. She trusted him. Her faith remained steady.
He opened a side door and gently tugged her alongside.
The contrast of the chilly night air against her flushed skin was sharp. But not painful. Her senses were heightened. She breathed in pine and his aftershave.
Silently, they picked their way close to the lighthouse. As they neared, sounds came into play.
The gentle lapping of the water against the shore mixed with something metallic and out of sync. Nature wasn’t so discordant. It had to be man-made. The scrape of a shovel?
In a few yards, they’d reach the wooden bridge. The sounds of their steps over the planks would give away their location.
Squeezing his hand three times, she tugged him back.
He frowned.
Hide, she mouthed. She dropped his hand, turning for a place to conceal them. She spotted a pine tree near the shore. Erosion had created a hollow to one side, exposing its roots and providing a perfect person-sized hole.
She turned back to him. He was gone. Rubbing her eyes, she scanned the area and spotted him.
He’d dropped to the ground and held a pine branch in front of his face.
That was hiding?
She swallowed her sigh and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. She led him to the tree she’d scoped out. She dropped into the hole, pulling him down with her.
Almost on top of her.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. She stared up at him, licking her very dry lips as she did so. In the beginning, falling for him had been so easy. Two friends who knew each other better than themselves. A pair who spent all day, every day together and still wanted more. Before the complications of family and expectations, they’d been two people hot for each other. Her skin burned. She parted her lips.
His intoxicating scent of aftershave and fresh laundry mixed with sweat. His eyes flashed. He licked his lips and lowered his head.
She arched up, drawn to him like a magnet. Every muscle in her body strained. Her skin was on fire.
“I thought this was supposed to be easy?” A male voice said clearly.
In a second, she shrank. She knew that voice. Betrayal from a friend was like a bucket of ice water tossed on her, smothering the fire with cold, hard truth. In the years since she had been gone, her neighbors continued to live their lives. She hadn’t returned to a fairy tale town frozen in time by a curse. Which left her with horrible questions.
Why had someone she’d known forever tried to kill her ? How did Zach act normal when the explosion didn’t succeed? Who else was involved?
* * *
Christopher knew Ashley’s kiss me face. The memory of the first time she looked at him like that had been imprinted on his soul. They’d been in high school, laughing about something as they sat on the boardwalk. And then she’d turned and looked at him like he was everything.
Even now, his chest expanded, and his chin lifted. She had that power over him, to elevate or eviscerate. And he’d forgotten just how heady the sensation.
His fingers twitched, his palms burned to touch her, hold her, kiss her.
She’d pressed into him, rising out of her hiding spot and flooding his senses. Her lavender smell, her parted lips, her dazzling eyes, her shallow breaths teased him to claim her. He wanted her. He’d missed her. In the days since her return, he realized how he’d trapped that part of himself in a deep, dark, and desolate dungeon.
She was the only woman who had ever stirred such passion. With her, he was possessive and obsessive. He’d forgotten how much until she’d returned. She belonged with him, not to him, but at his side. He’d been a fool to ever think he could pay her off and somehow get on with his life. She was his life.
In the seconds he’d come awake in his office, he had turned and seen her face and instinctually reached for her. Like a thirsty man grabbing a cup of water. She had reminded him of their circumstances, and he pushed aside the desire lingering just under his smooth fa?ade.
Not now. Now he was here, and she was arching into him. He licked his lips and lowered his head.
“I thought this was supposed to be easy?” A familiar male voice complained.
Christopher swallowed the groan building in his chest. If he released it, he’d hear rumors of a bear now circling the property. He wanted like five more minutes before he’d been right. He could have kissed her. He should have because now she was wrong.
Her ghost wasn’t real.
Part of him had hoped the spirit couldn’t be so easily explained. He harbored a wish that Xavier lingered on the earthly plane, helping his daughter to atone for his unfinished business in life. But no. Christopher’s assessment that humans manipulated the situation was correct. And for his victory, he’d claim an unhappy wife who would not want to make out.
He dropped his chin to his chest, taking several deep breaths.
“Keep your voice down,” another man said, his voice strained and wheezy.
That voice sounded familiar, too. He knew both men. And that was the worst piece of news he’d had in years. It was Zach and Lonnie.
He didn’t want to think that the people he’d grown up with hated him enough to try to kill his wife and destroy his business. Sure, they’d argue something else but they had been caught red-handed. Lonnie and Zach plotting to destroy him as thoroughly as a man could be ruined.
He lifted his gaze to her face.
Her expression clouded, unreadable. Her wrinkled brow and scrunched face assured him he’d missed his chance. Well, perhaps that was for the best. He wanted to kiss her with every ounce of his being. But did she reciprocate his feelings or had she been swept up in a moment? He owed her a clear choice if he considered himself a gentleman.
Their marriage had probably been that for her, although he’d been honest about his commitment. She’d disregarded the vows almost as soon as she could, running off. She’d made her choice years ago. He’d been an idiot to imagine any different.
Even if she could somehow forgive him, she would never forget. When it counted, he’d made a choice against her. She’d never truly appreciate the circumstances he’d been put in, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever been able to rationalize what he did as being in her best interests. Not truly. He’d picked safety over love. Her return was hollow.
He wasn’t the victor. He’d just lost again. This time for good. He wouldn’t put any pressure on her. He’d see the lawyer in the morning. He’d buy the Hotel Lavande.
He leaned close. “Go back to the Inn and call the police,” he murmured into her ear. He fought the urge to bury his face in her neck. She was everything he’d ever wanted and never could hold on to. Pulling back, he met her gaze.
She nodded. Be careful, she mouthed.
He scrambled backward and, on hands and knees, rounded the pine tree. Once in the open, he ran, leaping over the bridge. “Come out with your hands up.”
“Crap, I told you!” Lonnie Treacle, the taffy and fudge shop owner, shouted.
Christopher rounded the lighthouse. On the backside of the small island, away from view of the Inn because of the pile of rubble, the sixty-something-year-old man leaned on a shovel.
Kneeling on the ground with a trowel, Zach Jenkins met Christopher’s gaze.
Christopher saw red.
While Lonnie was part of an older generation, Zach had only been a few years ahead. Zach knew Ashley. Throughout the years, he’d spoken of her in glowing terms. Friendship hadn’t stopped him from attempted murder.
“Stand up now. You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” Christopher hissed. Rage pounded through his veins, curling his fists at his side.
“Why?” Zach stood, dusting his hands on his pants and crossing his arms. “Because we’re taking advantage of an opportunity?”
“Nearly killing my wife is an opportunity? How dare you.” Christopher lunged forward.
Lonnie pulled him back. “Stop. What are you talking about? We’re just looking for the treasure. Heard the lighthouse was in ruins. Figured this was a good time. We never hurt anyone.”
Christopher wheeled around. “The treasure doesn’t exist. The gold isn’t real. It was a marketing ploy from the 90s. Why is everyone in this town so gullible? I have bad news. Santa doesn’t bring your presents either. You can be as good as you want, and if your parents don’t have any money, you won’t get a thing.” His voice shook, long-repressed emotion flooding him.
Lonnie dropped his grip and held up both hands, sliding his eyes to his partner.
“Why can’t people in this town face facts?” Christopher roared. “You make choices, and you accept the consequences. There is no grand scheme to save you. Hard work doesn’t always mean success. Life isn’t fair.”
“Oh, are you, once again, on your high horse trying to force us to your will?” Zach curled his upper lip. “You always know what’s best, right? You’re the ultimate boss. You rule your little subjects and act so gracious in letting us peasants stay on your property.”
“You’ve got some nerve. Everything I’ve done has been in the best interests of this town.” Christopher poked himself in the chest with his index finger. “I love this place. I’ve never tried to run or hide or lurk in the shadows. I’ve worked my whole life for this community. Can you say the same? As far as I can tell, you’ve always been out for yourself.”
Zach scowled.
Christopher turned toward Lonnie. “And what about you?”
The older man shook his head.
“No. Because both of you are out for your own good. Most people are. But some people actually care about their community and put in the work whether it is cheered or jeered,” Christopher said.
Clapping sounded.
Christopher spun.
Ashley stood behind him with Sheriff Hanks and a deputy, her hands raised as she applauded.
“Officers, please arrest these men,” Christopher said, holding her gaze and enjoying a split second of justice.
“For what?” Zach cried.
Christopher spun.
The officers approached the pair and handcuffed each man.
“For attempted murder and trespassing,” Christopher replied coolly.
“Attempted murder?” Zach turned ghostly white.
Good. He was scared. Christopher would have cheered if he didn’t long to slug the man. He didn’t want to get hauled in for assault. Instead, he clenched and unclenched the fists at his side. “What else do you call setting fire to the lighthouse while my wife was inside? Or the explosion that destroyed it the other day?”
“We didn’t do this.” Lonnie sputtered, tilting his head to the dilapidated lighthouse.
“That wasn’t us.” Zach darted his gaze between Ashley and Christopher. “Please, you’re my friend. I would never have hurt you.” He focused on Ashley.
Christopher’s blood pounded. Now he really wanted to slap the man. He gave a good show of fake shock. He should try out for the local community theater. If he was out of jail by then.
Christopher stood in front of Ashley, shielding her from the farce. He hadn’t done enough, but he could do this. He could protect her and get out of her way. “Evidence says otherwise. And you’re still trying to steal from the resort that has supported you and kept your families clothed and fed. How dare you. Get out of here.” He nodded at the officers, grabbed her hand, and strode away.
He needed a strong drink to clear his mind of every thought plaguing him. Because he’d come so close to losing her, and he hadn’t understood how deeply he’d been impacted until he had a chance to confront the perps. He didn’t want to go through with the divorce. But didn’t he owe her? He’d see her safely inside the hotel and spend the rest of the night torturing himself.