HauntingMelodyStClaire (2 page)

Melody’s eyes jerked open. Up?

Suddenly ice-cold water pelted her. She shrieked and jumped
away from the spray. With contortions no human should ever attempt, she managed
to shut off the faucet. Her breath came in gasps and her body shook. It had to
be the cold water. She’d fallen asleep in the shower while leaning against the
wall. Right?

Melody wrapped a towel around her freezing body and raced
into the bedroom. Water trailed behind her, but she dove under the sheets
anyway. She buried her head beneath a pillow and groaned. Sexual frustration,
trauma and sleep deprivation had to account for her overactive imagination. Her
body trembled with chills from soaking the sheets, and the fear that she wasn’t
really alone after all.

Her grandmother’s necklace and the picture were still in the
bathroom, but wild horses couldn’t drag her back in there tonight. She pulled
another blanket on top of her, more to put a layer between her and whatever her
imagination decided to throw her way again than for warmth. She stared at the
doorway where the light from the bathroom spilled into the hallway.

Part of her knew it was silly. Nothing would grab her from
under the bed if she put her foot on the floor. It wasn’t like a movie. This
was real life. Every time she turned around a sound spooked her. She shivered
in the cold, drafty house and watched, waiting for some kind of movement. There
was a flash of something, then the light went out in the bathroom and she cried
out, dragging the blanket up. There was no way in hell she was going to sleep
now.

Smoke was everywhere. Bands of pressure tightened around her
chest and she screamed. Not again. Flames rose and something fell across her
shoulders. She tried to knock it away. Her hand slapped something and the sound
of glass shattering pierced the night.

Melody sat straight up with a scream dying on her lips. Her
heart pounded with fear and her skin crawled with dread. She blinked her bleary
eyes and squinted in the dark.
Where am I?
It took a moment to take in
the peeling wallpaper and lovely furniture. Kassa’s house.
I must have had
another nightmare.
She reached for the familiar weight of her grandmother’s
locket. In a panic, she realized it wasn’t there. Melody pressed her hand
against her chest and flipped the blanket back. She untangled her legs from the
sheet, lifted the pillow and felt around for the necklace. It was gone. Melody
felt a burst of anxiety and reached to turn on the lamp. Golden light spilled
out into the room and she blinked to clear her vision. Her towel fell open and
she bent over to tuck it back across her breasts when she noticed the locket,
safely lying on the nightstand beside the bed. Her pulse slowed and she reached
over to pick it up.

“There you are.” Her fingers traced the delicate flowers
painted on the porcelain. She carefully opened it. On the left was a tiny
snapshot of her grandparents kissing. The first few bars of their song lifted
her spirits and filled her heart with comfort. It was then she noticed her skin
tingling in bands around her chest. Its warmth wasn’t the memory of her
nightmare. It was like…

She peered down at the floor, frowning in confusion. Travis
Santiago stared up at her through the shattered glass of the antique frame.
Kassa was going to kill her. Melody jumped out of bed and ran to get the broom,
snagging a robe on the way. Her grandmother’s necklace came around her neck in
a heartbeat. She closed the case and tucked it under the material. Worry ate at
her. Kassa had told her not to break anything. She grabbed a small trashcan and
the hand broom. The last place she’d seen the dustpan was in the bathroom. She
flicked the switch, but nothing happened.

The last few hours before she fell asleep came rushing back.
Her hands shook while she examined the vanity in the limited light from the
bedroom where she’d left the frame and her grandmother’s necklace.

How did they end up next to her bed when she’d left them on
the sink last night? She drew the robe closed up to her neck and walked slowly
back into the room. A quick inspection told her nothing else was out of place.
She shut the door, blocking the view of the bathroom, and strode to the mess.
All of the glass seemed self-contained, but small slivers always found their
way to the bottom of her feet. She lifted the frame and gingerly dumped the
glass into the trashcan. The picture fluttered down and she grabbed it.

She flipped it over, hoping it wasn’t scratched. Travis
stared back at her with a sexy grin. She couldn’t help but return the smile. “I’m
happy to see you survived. I would have hated to see a scratch on that handsome
face.” She put him facedown on the side table and finished cleaning up the
rest. “You know, people would call me crazy if they knew I was talking to
pictures of strange men.” She stood and surveyed the floor to make sure no
shiny bits were left. Her gaze drifted to the back of the photo. She blinked
slowly and squinted at the words. Beneath the faded script of his name and date
was the word
Believe
in bold letters.

She snatched it up and read it again. “I’m going crazy.” She
knew it wasn’t there before. Turning on her heel and gripping the robe, she lifted
it so she could run down the stairs. Her fist clenched the delicate cloth, but
she didn’t care. Someone was messing with her and it wasn’t funny.

She reached the kitchen and grabbed the phone. Kassa’s
number was on the fridge. It took three tries to get her fingers to work, but
she finally got through.

“Hello?” The crackle over the lines made it hard to hear.

“Kassa? This is Melody.”

“Melody?” She sounded as if she just woke up. “Oh God. Are
you okay? What time is it?”

She glanced at the clock above the stove and winced. “Yes.
I’m sorry it’s early, but it couldn’t wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

Melody paced the kitchen floor. “I broke something.”

“What?” She sounded far more awake.

“It was a frame. The glass shattered when it fell off the
nightstand. I’m sorry.”

Kassa sighed. “That kind of thing can wait until the
morning.”

“Right.” Melody placed the picture on the island and
impatiently tapped her fingernails.

“That’s not why you called.”

“No.” She didn’t know how to ask.

“Did something spook you?”

“I think I’m going crazy.”

“Why?” She instantly perked up. Melody’s annoyance gained
ground on her irrational fear. Was Kassa setting her up for something?

“Just things that happen here at the house. The light blew
in the bathroom.”

“Was it a bright light then a loud pop sound?”

“Yes.”

She sighed “You have fresh light bulbs. I’ll talk you
through how to replace it. You’ll want to flip the breaker first so the next
light doesn’t pop.” Her instructions were clear and precise, further calming
Melody’s racing heart and making her fear seem even more ridiculous.

“Does the stuff with the lighting happen often? Is it the
wiring?” There was still a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

“It’s an old house. I’ve had several reputable electricians
out there and they assure me the wiring is sound. My grandfather had it
replaced when I was a baby.”

She rested her forehead against the cool surface of the
refrigerator. “Thanks for your help, Kassa. I’ll get the light fixed and
replace the glass on the frame as soon as I can get to a store.” Her words came
in rapid succession.

“Melody.” Kassa’s voice was very calm.

“Yes?”

“Did you seriously call me about a broken light and a
frame?”

Melody sighed. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Try me.”

“Okay. There are weird things happening. Not just the light,
but things moving around. My personal things.”

“Like what?”

“My necklace and that frame I told you about. I found a
photo yesterday of a man. The back said it was from 1982.”

An amused sound came over the line. “Travis Santiago?”

“How did you know that?”

“He’s your ghost.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

“That’s not the point.”

She chuckled. “Is there more?”

“Yes. When the frame fell, I was cleaning up the mess and
noticed the back of the picture had the word
Believe
written across it.
It wasn’t there before.”

“
Believe
? Well that’s a weird word choice.”

Seriously? I tell the woman words appear magically and
she’s disturbed by the word?

“I think the entire thing is weird.”

“Is it still on the back of the photo?”

She flipped it over.
Believe.
“Yes.”

“Do you know why he would use that word?”

Melody wrinkled her brow. “Why would I know what a ghost
thinks? If they were real, I mean.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“What?”

“Just ask him. I’m sure he’d tell you.”

This woman was a fruitcake. “Thanks for your help, Kassa.”

“No problem. I’m heading out of town for the day, so I’ll
give you a call later.”

They hung up and Melody muttered, “Why don’t I just ask
him?” She glared at the photo. “If you’re truly a ghost, then listen up. I
don’t like being scared out of my wits. So stop with the parlor tricks and let
me put my life back together. I’ll be out of your hair and you can go back to
haunting this house with all the enthusiasm of a kitten in a yarn factory for
all I care.”

There was no answer. No moan or freezing touch against her
neck. “And I’m talking to myself again. Nice.”

She left the kitchen and stalked back upstairs. It took a
minute to get changed into a t-shirt and cut-off shorts. A wave of dizziness
had her sitting on the foot of the bed. Too many days with too little rest.
Sleep deprivation could be why she didn’t remember things very well. Predawn
light peeked through the slats of the shutters. It would be daylight soon. The
dizziness passed and she pulled on her sandals.

She grabbed the small trashcan and walked out into the
hallway. Something caught her attention at the end of the corridor. There was a
broad window with sheer curtains fluttering in an invisible breeze. Melody’s
throat closed and her heart thundered. The shadow of a man stood within them.
He had his broad back to her, staring out the window. Melody stepped forward
and a floorboard creaked. She shut her eyes for a moment, cursing in her mind.
When they opened, the fluttering had stopped and the man was gone. She shook
her head. Was she hallucinating?

Melody took hesitant steps toward the window with her palm
open. There was no breeze. She touched the curtain and ran her fingers against
it. Nothing out of the ordinary. The curtains began to flutter again and a cool
morning wind swirled lightly around her. Melody smiled in relief. It was an old
drafty house, and this was a single-pane design. It wouldn’t surprise her if
every window was this way. She put her forehead to the glass to adjust her
vision. Was that a lone lemon tree in the overgrown gardens?

They were ripe and she grinned. Lemonade. Spinning around,
Melody raced down the stairs. The small trashcan was dumped off in the kitchen.
She grabbed a floppy hat and an old basket from hooks and opened the back door,
trudging through the dew-covered grass to the tree. The ripe ones were plucked
first and tossed into the basket. Too few were ready to be picked. “You need
some trimming, honey.” Her mother had loved trees. She’d taught her how to
prune them when they were overgrown.

“Oh Mom.” She smiled at the memory. “I sure wish you were
here.”
It has to be loneliness causing me to conjure up ghosts and talk to
myself.
An image came to mind of the sexy Travis Santiago in the photograph
she’d found.
Believe.
There had to be an explanation.
Could it be…
Her thoughts trailed off when hot breath touched the back of her neck.

Her heart kicked up a beat.
I’m going crazy. No one’s
here.
The foundation of her reality shifted and she wasn’t so sure anymore.
“Get a grip. It’s just exhaustion and I’m talking to myself again.”

Melody turned to watch the sun come up over her small town,
smiling at the memory of her childhood. The smells around her changed and fresh
morning dew would burn off soon.

The scent of overripe lemons drew her attention to the
ground. A few had fallen. She knelt and picked them up, sniffing each one and
checking for excessive bruising. The ones that were fine she put in the basket,
while those that had split open or were too bruised would have their peels
tossed in a pot of boiling water.

“Believe.”

Melody jumped and turned at the sound of the strange voice.
Nothing. “It’s official. I’m going crazy.” It was time for some professional
help. Or a straitjacket. Maybe both.

Running a hand over her face, she picked up the floppy hat
from the ground, gathered the remaining fruit and ran back toward the house.

Melody made it safely inside. Her heart pounded and she
managed to close the door before sliding to the floor and wrapping her arms
around her legs.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, sitting there
thinking of everything that had happened recently. Ever since her parents’
deaths, she’d been in a kind of limbo, going through the motions, wanting to
belong. Was she so starved for love her mind was willing to believe the
impossible?

Music spilled in from the den. An electric guitar intro to a
familiar song brought her to her feet.

The first haunting words of Conway Twitty’s
Slow Hand
drifted in.

As the midnight moon was drifting through the lazy sway
of the trees.

Melody recognized the lyrics while she walked into the den
and made her way to the turntable. Cool air brushed around her legs, leaving
chills in their wake. A Conway Twitty sleeve sat on the side.

I saw the look in your eye, looking into the night. Not
seeing what you wanted to see.

Her mind was curiously numb while she tried to process what
was happening.

Energy surrounded her and she froze. Breath caressed her cheek.
“Close your eyes.” The voice of her resident ghost was a low rumble next to her
ear. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Wh-what?” Her voice shook, and not from fear.

“Relax.” Fingers trailed over her shoulders and down her
arms as though her clothes weren’t even there. “Can you feel it?”

“Okay. I’m definitely certifiable.” Nerve endings lit up
where he touched, warming her from the inside. Slow desire unraveled low in her
belly.

His laugh uncoiled the knots of tension in her chest. “Close
your eyes.”

They fluttered shut and the sensation of his touch grew more
intense. The warmth behind her solidified into a hard body. He lifted her hair
and let it tumble over a shoulder. “Dance with me.” Lips touched her throat and
she shivered.

He pressed against her back and interlocked their fingers.
Travis wrapped their arms around her stomach and swayed gently to the music,
drawing her away from the record player and into the center of the room.

Everything about him was so real. “How is this possible?”

“Shh.” His mouth brushed her ear. “Relax against me.” He
began to sing along with the music, a gorgeous low tone that had her toes
curling in appreciation.

She let go of her worries and doubts and just let him guide
her. All too soon the song was over and she sighed against him. She didn’t want
this moment to end. “I love that song.”