Chapter Two

It was still raining the following morning when she awoke; although not nearly as hard.   She pulled the covers over her face and inhaled the faint scent of lavender. She wondered if the housekeeper, Wilma, guessed she would be sleeping in that room out of habit, or if the sheets had just stayed that fresh for the many months since she last visited.  She guessed it was the first.

Wilma came to the estate long before Alison entered the world. Alison watched her transform from a youthful middle-aged woman of slender frame and fine complexion to an old woman who was nearing her retirement years with thickened waist and sun-mottled skin.  It made sense Wilma would know her habits by now.  She may not have visited the great aunts much over the last few years, but in her early, formative years, she was there almost every weekend and for weeks during the summer.

The rich aroma of coffee filled the air as Wilma slowly opened the door.  She carried a tray laden with scrambled eggs, buttered biscuits, homemade jam, and black coffee.

“You didn’t have to bring that up to me,” Alison yawned.

“Don’t get used to it, child,” Wilma chuckled.  “I can’t believe you traveled through that storm. What possessed you?”

“It wasn’t my intention,” Alison said as she positioned herself in bed to accommodate the bed tray over her legs.  “Things just happened.”

“You met Nick, then?” Wilma asked off-handedly.

“Where did he come from?”  she asked as she took a bite of biscuit. “He’s clearly a recent addition.”

“Henry retired,” Wilma said softly.

“Henry didn’t live on the premises,” Alison said as she wiped a bit of jelly from her chin.

“Nick needed a place to stay and, with things being in constant need of repair, your aunts offered him the guest house. It gave them comfort knowing he was available on short notice,” Wilma said with a grin. “Although I don’t know how much Nick appreciated it.”

“It’s the price you pay for free room and board,” Alison shrugged.

“Where did you hear that?” Wilma said with raised brow.

“I just assumed,” Alison began.

“There’s that old saying, ‘never assume’,” Wilma said. “Nick pays too much rent, if you ask me. Those old ladies worked him to the bone. They should have given him room, board, and pay in exchange for the care he’s given this place.”

“It does look nice,” Alison said thoughtfully.

“You haven’t been around for a few years, so you didn’t see the decline it was in. Poor old Henry just couldn’t keep up,” Wilma said with a slow shake of her head.

Alison finished the last of her coffee while she watched Wilma putter around the room.

“This house is pretty big for you, isn’t it, Wilma?” she asked thoughtfully.

“Are you thinking of retiring me?” Wilma asked hesitantly.

“I was planning on getting you a helper,” Alison said with a smile, “but, that was before I discovered I have a handyman to pay.”

 “He prefers to be called the caretaker,” Wilma corrected her, “and you don’t pay him. Since he pays more rent to you than you pay him in wages, technically, he pays you.”

“That will have to change,” Alison said firmly.

“Remember the terms of the Will,” Wilma warned.  “Your aunts were firm on things.  If I were in your shoes, I’d leave things as they are until I’ve settled and can really evaluate the situation.”

 “Knock, knock,” came that familiar deep, sexy voice that lured Alison in from the rain the night before. “I heard voices so, I assume it was safe to bring in the luggage.”

“I’m still in bed,” Alison called out.

“I don’t mind,” Nick said with a devilish tone that reeked of amusement.

Alison hurriedly pulled the covers up to her chin while she watched Nick barrel into the room with every piece of luggage she’d crammed into her tiny car. Other than the way his thick muscles bulged from handling a load that most men would have split in two, he showed no signs of exerting himself.

She caught herself admiring his strong, lean physique at about the same time Nick did.  She quickly averted her eyes and pretended to be studying something across the room, but not before she saw him smile.

“Is this the room you plan in occupying?” Nick asked as he straightened his back and studied his surroundings.  “It isn’t nearly as nice as the master bedroom. In fact, it isn’t nice at all.”

“I think the dear child wanted to be in a familiar place last night.  She never did like the rain or this big old house,” Wilma offered. 

“I know you’ve known me since… forever, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t call me child,” Alison said hesitantly.

“Of course, chi…. Alison,” Wilma said.

“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Alison continued. “It’s just that…”

“No hurt feelings here,” Wilma said with a warm smile. “Just an old habit I’ll need to break. Of course, you don’t want to be called child.  You are a beautiful young woman and the new mistress of this estate.”

“Is a nineteen-year-old female considered a woman?”  Alison asked hesitantly.  “My parents may beg to differ.”

“Parents are generally reluctant to let their children grow up.  You’ve always acted older than your age,” Wilma assured her.  “Your aunts recognized that. Why else would they entrust this place to you?   Nineteen is young, but you’re a woman, alright… and a beautiful one, at that.”

“I’m still not finished developing,” Alison whispered while she eyed Nick wistfully.

Wilma studied Alison for a moment.  “You’ve got a beautiful figure that simply has room for more development. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“So, do I leave the luggage here or take it to the master bedroom, mistress?” Nick said with impatient sarcasm.

“Master bedroom,” Alison and Wilma said simultaneously.

Alison feasted her eyes once more on the caretaker she inherited while he adeptly collected her luggage in a way that made only one trip necessary.

“I think my aunts were a little off in their old age,” Alison said after Nick left the room.  “None of this makes sense.”

“Give it time,” Wilma said as she picked up the breakfast tray.  She smiled with satisfaction at the robust way Alison attacked everything she’d provided and headed out of the door.

Alison took her time dressing for the day.  She had mixed emotions about the caretaker and she wanted to sort them out before going downstairs where she was certain she’d have to face him sooner, rather than later.  On the one hand, she found him ridiculously, magnetically attractive.  On the other hand, she had an unsettled feeling whenever she was around him that gave her pause to wonder why.

She pulled a pair of khaki pants and a light blue cashmere tee shirt from her overnight bag and sighed. Arthur bought her that shirt.  He said the light blue accentuated her long blonde curls and made her deep blue eyes pop.  She shook away the haunting vision of Sarah’s voluptuous body in the tee shirt she’d given to him as she combed out her long locks and pulled her hair into a smooth pony tail.  After applying just enough makeup to accent her features without overpowering them, she surveyed herself in the mirror.  It was the best it was going to get.  She was no Sarah Jensen.  She was Alison Colby; a slender, petite, still not fully developed young woman. Short of plastic surgery and breast enhancements, there was no changing that fact.

In truth, she’d seriously considered having her breasts enlarged with plastic surgery, but Arthur claimed they were a perfect B cup that suited her body just fine. Since he was the only man she’d ever fooled around with, she trusted his word. 

Looking back, she was thankful she never went all the way with him.  It would have made his deceitfulness much more painful.  She was sure Sarah slept with him whenever she came around.  Perhaps that was why he kept going back with her.  If it was, then shame on her for not seeing him for the shallow horn-toad he was. 

Alison was no prude, but she believed in saving certain experiences to be enjoyed with the right person. She thought that right person was Arthur and came very close to sleeping with him, but a nagging in the back of her mind wouldn’t let her go beyond fooling around.  When she discovered that Arthur was secretly seeing Sarah, she understood her inner warning.  From that moment on, she promised herself she would listen to those warnings.

Her mind settled back on Nick.  Was it a warning she was getting about him or something else?  It wasn’t clear, but she knew there was something beneath the story that needed to come to the surface before she could relax and trust him.

Cold air rushed past her as she stood up to leave the overly furnished, run down bedroom.  She shuddered and remembered how she used to believe the house was haunted.  She even thought she’d seen a ghost or two while growing up.  Now that she was older, she no longer thought that it was haunted.  Not by ghosts, anyway.  If it was haunted at all, it was by the memory imprints that come from lives being led within its walls for several centuries. 

The house had endured -and survived- the civil war.  The memory imprints from that alone could fill a house with feelings that a sensitive like her would detect.

It took her years to realize that she was what society referred to as a sensitive.  Some people tried to label her a psychic, but she didn’t believe she was that.  Psychics could tell the future.  All she could do was feel the thoughts and memories that clung to buildings and places.

“Good morning,” Nick said as he stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up at Alison as she started to descend the elegant stairway.

Alison was so engrossed in her thoughts about Nick, that seeing him in the flesh startled her.  Her body jolted and she missed the top tread. A slight squeal escaped her small, well-shaped mouth as she reached for the banister to catch herself. Coordination was never one of her strong points and it showed as her hand clumsily missed the rail and she started to tumble forward.

Nick was at the top of the steps with lighting speed.  He swept her into his arms and descended the stairs a little slower than he ascended them, but still faster than the average person.  Alison was speechless as he set her down and held her until he was certain she regained her balance.

“Thanks,” she managed to whisper.

His eyes locked with hers in a way that made it impossible for her to breathe.  “That shirt brings out the color of your eyes. You have beautiful eyes.”

“You’re beautiful too,” she replied without realizing what she was saying.

The impact of her blunder broke the spell of the moment.  Her cheeks went scarlet and she turned her face away from him.  Instead of releasing her, he gently pulled her face back toward him and kissed her in a long, slow, and oh-so-delicious way. 

 Rather than slap him silly for his impudence, she melted in his arms. Once again, her legs refused to hold her, and she was at the mercy of his solid body for support.  She tingled from head to toe by the time he stopped kissing her. He held her for a moment while he assessed her ability to stand on her own. When he was satisfied, he released her and left the foyer without a backward glance.

***

Nick muttered to himself as he entered the kitchen.  He couldn’t believe he did something as stupid as kissing her.  It was too much too soon. Even though he’d loved her from afar, technically, they’d only met the night before. What was he thinking?   The problem was, he wasn’t thinking.  He was responding to the sensation that flooded his body whenever she was near. He’d heard about it happening, but he never gave it much thought because he’d never experienced it until Alison showed up. Now, to add to everything else on his plate, he would have to refrain from succumbing to the desire to take her in his arms and possess her every time she walked by.

Wilma set the flowers she’d just brought in from the garden onto the edge of the sink. “What happened?” she asked accusingly.

“I don’t need this,” he snarled.

“Why is ‘what did you do’ on the tip of my tongue?” she said as she placed her hands on her hips.

Nick pounded his fist on the counter.  “Neither Elsie nor Beth warned me.  I’m not prepared for her.”

“Maybe they didn’t know,” Wilma said softly.

“Of course, they knew,” he snarled. “As did you.”

“So, she sees ghosts,” Wilma shrugged. “Lots of people see them.  What’s the big deal?”

“I’m not talking about that and you know it,” Nick said. “I’m talking about the fact that we’re connected.”

Wilma forced a frown. “I’m not following you.”

“I’m going to my cottage,” he grumbled. “I won’t be available for the rest of the day, so, DON’T have any emergencies.”

“Yes, sir,” Wilma said with a mock salute.