Black-Eyed Moon (A Guinan Jones Paranormal Mystery #1) (2 page)

Even before I opened my eyes to see the sun streaming through the blinds I forgot to close last night, I knew I'd slept late. I pulled the pile of quilts over my head and shivered.

My grandfather kept the air conditioner roaring in the summer. He'd grown up in this
old Victorian suffering without it. His father made him scrub the attic and the basement in the stifling heat. He'd promised himself that when the house was his, he'd install central air and run it all summer, no matter how much it cost. He'd kept that promise.

I
glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Almost eleven-thirty. I had trouble falling asleep after I returned home close to midnight. I tossed and turned, then I had fitful dreams of my mother committing me to a mental institution while my father stood by and watched. 

From birth to shortly after
I turned ten in the spring, I lived with my parents in the nation's capital and came down South every summer to visit my grandparents. That summer visit became permanent. My grandparents enrolled me at Pinecrest Elementary, and I've been here ever since.

I felt hung over, but I had to start the day. I was scheduled to babysit for Tim Hicks and his wife, Tessa, for their every-other-Saturday-night date. T
hings had been a little weird last time. It was like Tim and I shared a secret I didn't want to be privy to.

I swung my legs
to the floor and pushed myself off the bed. I felt a million years old. Reading dead people's minds was draining. I put on my robe and ran a hand through my tangled hair. Granddad and I no longer shared the same hair color, but we still had hazel eyes.

I inherited
a widow's peak from my grandmother. Whenever I thought of her, I could smell the delicate scent of lilac perfume and peppermint. I swallowed the lump in my throat and headed downstairs.

My stomach growled when I caught the aroma of bacon. My grandfather was on the phone, and he glanced at me when I opened the fridge. I grabbed the last apple and lingered near the table, already set for breakfast. I frowned. The only time we ate breakfast at the kitchen table, as opposed to in front of the TV in the den, was when he wanted to talk about a case.

I considered going back upstairs, but at that moment, he hung up and turned in my direction, smiling.

"You look like I feel after a night out with the fellas."

He cracked several eggs into a frying pan, broke the yolks, and sprinkled pepper. He pulled out the chair for me, and I reluctantly sat. My coffee mug was already on the table. He poured himself some. I pushed my mug toward him, and he filled it.

I stifled a yawn.
"How long have you been up?"

"Half an hour or so. I
got home shortly after you did. I just finished reading the story about Lucas's death on my laptop."

"Let me guess. The lurid
details are all over the
Ridge Grove Herald
's web site."

"What a mess," he said. "Cheating spouses and love nests."

I cleared my throat. "They were separated, you know."

He raised his eyebrows. "Married is married, young lady. They weren't divorced yet." He
turned to the stove and flipped over the eggs.

"Did you talk to her husband?"

He shook his head. "I'll let Tim deal with that."

I tried not to grin.
"Not exciting enough for you?"

He laughed and scraped some eggs onto his plate and mine. He set the bacon plate in the middle
of the table. "Just routine stuff, since it doesn't matter where Roy was when his wife died. Unless he somehow caused the heart attack." Before I could remind him what I'd seen, he added, "I know, I know. I watch too many murder mysteries."

We went on like this for another twenty minutes, talking and eating and pretending I wasn't going to ask the question I usually asked whenever we ate together in the kitchen.

"Talk to Mom?"

His cheerful expression faltered. "Yep."

"Well?"

He gulped the rest of his coffee, set down the cup, and fiddled with the handle. "She knows you don't want to leave, hon, but what can I do? Your parents want you there with them."

I stared at the bits of bacon on my plate.

"It's not definite," he said. "It's just…discussions."

The refrigerator cycled off. Silence lingered for several seconds.

"I don't understand," I said. "It's been six years. In two years I'll be an adult. What is the point of moving back in with them now?"

He shook his head. "You and your mother need to talk about this. You both avoid things."

I exhaled loudly and folded my arms, sulking.

After Grandma's funeral four years ago, my parents asked if I wanted to return with them. I said no. I couldn't leave Granddad all by himself. The three of them—my grandfather, my mother, and my father—hadn't put up much of a fight to change my mind. Now, all of a sudden, they wanted me back.

"I guess she needed six years to get over what I did." I let out a humorless laugh.

"That's ancient history, Guinan. You didn't ask for this gift." Before I could object, he continued. "That's what it is whether you call it that or not."

"Grandma called hers a curse." Saying her name out loud made my eyes sting
. Silence filled the room again. Granddad leaned back in the chair, then got up and braced himself against the stove with his back to me.

As usual, I felt like crap.

"Your grandmother was different. It was a different time."

"How so?"

"What's on the schedule today?" he said, ignoring the question.

I shrugged, even though he couldn't see it. "Babysitting tonight. Tessa said I could come early. I'm picking up Tamzen, too." I pushed
myself away from the table and loaded the dishwasher. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful or—"

I didn't get a chance to finish. He pulled me into an embrace
.

"I'm the one who should be grateful," he said. "You mean the world to us…to me. I just want you to be happy."

He patted me on the back. He seemed to be the only one who cared about my happiness.

***

It's hot as balls."

My best friend, Tamzen Parker, fanned herself with both hands. My car's air conditioner was blasting, but days like this, it didn't matter much. The late afternoon sun, a fiery orange ball, dipped lower in the sky.

"I think you need more of that stuff…what's it called?"

"Freon," I said.

"Yeah, that. Is it my imagination, or do the summers get hotter and hotter? That global warming thing, right?"

"It's your imagination. It was hotter than this last summer. Don't you remember?"

I certainly did. Tamzen and I had gone swimming at the pond in our underwear on a whim, and Zeke Hicks and Dean Harris caught us just as we were coming out of the water. I screamed and ran for cover, but Tamzen laughed and posed, shaking her wet hair—long, black, and gleaming in the sun.

Her
brown eyes twinkled. "I barely remember yesterday," she said, digging into her purse. She pulled out her compact of cornstarch powder. "Remind me to get more of this, will you?" Tamzen flipped down the visor and dabbed powder on her nose. "Shining like Rudolph. Hate this heat."

She and her boyfriend, Zeke Hicks, were going out tonight. She hadn't wanted to wait for him to pick her up at seven, so she caught a ride with me. Zeke was Tim's son.
Awkward on two levels. Zeke and I used to be friends. We barely spoke these days.

"He's probably not even home from baseball practice yet," I said, brushing a sweaty palm against my
shorts.

The high school team didn't play in the summer, b
ut it was tradition for some of the guys to get together in the off-season.

"He's there. I talked to him before you picked me up."

I grimaced and pushed an air vent toward my face. I glanced at her and watched as she ran her tongue over her teeth. It was like an oven outside, and she was fully made up. She caught me looking and winked.

"Too bad you're babysitting. You and Dean could double with us."

I kept my eyes on the road and resisted the urge to roll them.

She tossed
her compact back in her purse. "Hey, listen." She turned her entire body to face me. "Let's schedule something for Sunday. Don't call it a date. Call it…a group outing."

"I'll think about it," I lied. Once she was with Ze
ke, she'd forget all about me and Dean and a group outing. I could count on her for that.

I pulled into the driveway and silently groaned when I saw Zeke's ten-year-old black Jeep. Tamzen squealed and hoppe
d out of the car before I put the gear in park.

I took my time stepping out of the car.
Before I reached the glass storm door, I paused to admire the rows of marigolds in Tessa's garden, with their deep golden and orange petals that reminded me of her hair. She appeared at the door holding Jacob, one of her fourteen-month-old twins.

"Good to see you," she said, holding the door open and pecking me on the cheek. Her aub
urn hair hung in thick ringlets. I used to sit and watch her brush and style them when I was kid. I followed her to the kitchen.

Last year
, Tim bought her one of those retro stoves and remodeled the kitchen. The room looked like it belonged in a home décor magazine.

Jacob's fraternal twin, Jude,
toddled down the hall and wrapped his chubby arms around my legs as I rounded the corner. I picked him up, and he gave me a wide, four-teeth grin. I kissed his wet cheek.

"Thank God the sitter's here.
"

Zeke leaned through the doorway of his bedroom.
He wore a faded blue Carolina Panthers T-shirt. He smirked, went back inside his room, and closed the door.

I
watched the door for a few seconds and stepped into the kitchen. Tessa had put Jacob in his high-chair. I placed Jude in his and joined her at the stove.

"Gumbo, again," I said, smiling. Shrimp, mussels, and crawfish mingled in
a large, black pot. I leaned over and inhaled, opening up my sinuses.

"Least I could do," Tessa said. "Since you won't take any money."

I'd babysat for them since the twins were born, and I never took the money they offered, mainly because I didn't need it. My parents deposited money into my checking account every month, and Granddad bought the five-year-old, dark-blue Honda Civic parked outside. Tessa paid me with her cooking, which I gladly accepted.

"Your grandfather doing okay?"

A memory flickered across my mind. "Yep. Where are you two going tonight?"

She smiled and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "The anniversary place."

"Whoa," I said, impressed. The anniversary place was Branson's, an expensive restaurant just over the border in Chelsea, North Carolina, and the place where Tim proposed. "What's the occasion?"

"Tim said he wanted to do something special, you know…" She trailed off and swept her gaze over the kids, who were occupied with sippy cups and bits of food on their trays. I imagined how romantic the dinner would be, but when I looked into her eyes, she quickly looked away. I wondered if she thought I was trying to read her. I couldn't help feeling a bit hurt, since she knew my rule about not reading
family.

Tessa was my mother's second cousin
, which meant Zeke was my third. When he tried to kiss me when we were eleven, I said cousins don't kiss.

"My Mom says Queen Elizabeth and her husband are third cousins,
like us," he'd said.

At the time I didn't know who they were, but I figured they did a lot more than kiss.
A pot lid clanked, jarring me out of the past.

Jude
began to whine and wiggle his pudgy fingers at me, sign language for "Get me out of this chair, now." I obliged.

"Bite?" He held up a mushy piece of cooked carrot.

I pretended to take a bite as he watched intently, his blue eyes wide. He was the only one who'd inherited his mother's eye color. "Yum. Your turn."

He shoved the whole piece into his mouth and pointed at more on his yellow plastic plate. As I reached for the food without looking, my hand touched flesh. I flinched and stifled a shriek. I looked down and saw Zeke's hand grabbing the carrot.

"Mine," he said to Jude, who whined some more and reached for it.

"Zeke," Tessa said, her eyebrows raised.

He rolled his eyes. "Right. Don't want to traumatize him."

Jacob clamored to be picked up, too, and Zeke lifted him out of the chair. "I'm the only kid in school with toddlers for siblings. What fun."

I watched him bounce his brother. Zeke had a cleft in his chin like his father. My eyes traveled from his square jaw to his full lips to his brown eyes and rested on his mop of brown hair. He caught me looking, and I pretended I was making faces at Jacob. Zeke's teasing smile waned, replaced with an irritable frown.