Kiss And Dwell (3 page)

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Authors: Kelley St. John

Tags: #Sexth Sense

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But they did say they

d get to
St. Charles
next, and that they

d help us with
fixing the place up, as long as it doesn

t get worse.


That

s just it,

Nan
said.

Our roof is barely hanging on, and I told the
society that we

d make those repairs on our own. Actually, I listed several
things we

d do on our own, if they

d say that we

d eventually get those
restoration funds, but the roof has to come first.


And why did you tell them that again?

Dax
asked.


You know why. So we wouldn

t have to ask for so much money. That gets your
project moved up on the list of houses needing funds.


But now we have to prove we

re actually making repairs,

Dax
reminded.


We are making repairs,

Nan
said.

Working our behinds off every Saturday. Or
haven

t you noticed?

She didn

t mean to sound so curt, but this home was near
and dear to her heart, and the fact that the repairs were going so slowly, and
that the committee would come out to review those repairs in a mere two weeks,
was keeping her on edge.


We need more money,
Nan
. That roof isn

t gonna come cheap, you know.


I know,

she said, grimacing.


We could always ask our folks for more money,

Dax
began, but
Nan

s glare cut
him off.


I tried to call my parents, but they

re currently cruising to
Jamaica
for a
three-week vacation, which they truly need. Plus, I really don

t want to ask for
help if we can deal with this ourselves. My parents, your parents—all of our
parents—did their part as mediums and in working together to keep up this
plantation. Now they

ve moved on, retired, so to speak, the same way we

ll move
on when we all have kids and they become adults. It

s a chain of responsibility,
and they did their part. I don

t want them thinking we can

t do ours.

Now it was
Dax

s
turn to glare.


What?

Nan
asked.


Well, I haven

t said anything about it before, but it seems my parents believe
the plantation did fine through Hurricane Katrina. They said as much to me, and
they told Monique and Gage the same thing. Wonder where they got an idea like
that?


You know I told them,

Nan
said, annoyed.

Just like I told my folks, and just
like I told Uncle Jim and Aunt Clair.


Yeah, I know you did,

Dax
said, rocking slowly on the porch,

but I

m not
overly proud of lying to my parents every time they call,
Nan
. Or of convincing
them to meet us at Gage

s place in
New Orleans
when they visit, instead of
coming out here. And it

s been nearly two years. Don

t you think they

d want to
help if they realized the shape this place is in?

Nan
bit back her tears. She loved this house, loved its history.

I told you I
tried to call my folks, but I couldn

t get through. And don

t you think if the
spirits really thought we couldn

t handle this they

d somehow let them know to
get back here and help? They were mediums, too, but they haven

t been contacted
or felt the need to return. In my opinion, that means we

re meant to handle this
on our own. Besides, we aren

t lying. The house did do fine through the
hurricane. It

s still standing, isn

t it?

Dax
chuckled softly.

Yeah,

he said.

That

s about all we can say about it, but
it is still standing.


And we can fix it if we all work together,

she whispered.

We can.

The rocker creaked as he upped his tempo moving back and forth, then he stopped
and cocked a suspicious brow at his oldest cousin.

You think the ghosts will
stop coming if the house is gone, don

t you?

Nan
swallowed thickly.

I don

t know. But what if they did? That

s our family
heritage,
Dax
, and I won

t give it up without a fight.

She took a deep breath,
blew it out slowly.

And I really don

t want to ask all of our parents for help
.

Surely we can fix things around here on our own. There

s six of us—that

s
plenty, don

t you think?

He grinned.

Hell, I guess it is.

Satisfied with that answer, she sighed, then looked toward the darkening sky
.


What are we going to do if we get another big storm tonight? We can

t afford to
lose more tiles off the roof.

As if hearing her question, a low, rumbling thunder echoed over the
Mississippi
River
, churning steadily on the other side of the levee. Then Nanette paused,
knowing she may not have heard thunder after all.

Dax
, did you hear it?

Dax
, obviously knowing what she suspected, nodded.

Yep, that one was real. No
ghosts for you tonight, I guess.

Nanette swallowed. The cousins all had different identifiers that preceded their
spirit visits. She heard thunder, deep, rolling thunder, exactly like what she
heard now, except this thunder was real. And she

d much rather this had been an
apparition, since she wasn

t at all sure that the new tarp Gage and
Dax
had
attached to the roof this morning would hold. Tristan, the oldest male of the
bunch, hadn

t been able to help, since he

d been on duty and assisting with a
fire at a
LaPlace
apartment complex.

Nan
stepped off the porch and squinted toward the blue plastic that would
supposedly protect the house from additional water damage. Hurricane Katrina had
done a number on the old plantation, and unless Nanette convinced the Historical
Society to help, they were liable to lose the fight to save the place from
demolition. She wasn

t about to let that happen.

Carving a few green slivers off the end of a sugar cane reed,
Dax
grinned at his
fuming cousin.

Calm down,
Nan
. It

s a storm, not another hurricane, and the
tarp can take it. I promise.


But that

s just it. Another hurricane will come, maybe not today, but someday,
and we

re not ready. The foundation isn

t as strong as it used to be, the roof

is barely hanging on and the first floor still fills with mud and water every
time it rains. There

s no way we

re going to keep the house from being torn down
if we don

t get things fixed, and fixed right. And the next thing we have to
fix—and soon—is the roof. When the roofers decide to show,

she added.


You really think they

re going to keep coming out here to do those
mini-patches? It doesn

t pay enough, and they know we haven

t got the money for
new tiles yet,

Dax
said, stating the obvious.

She frowned, her throat tightening at the thought of losing the sugar cane
plantation that their family had nurtured over two centuries, the place where so
many spirits had found their way home. Would the demolition of the house mean
the end of
Vicknair
mediums? And could she ever forgive herself if she didn

t
keep that from happening? It

d taken all of the insurance money to dredge the
sludge from the bottom floor after Katrina, and they still hadn

t removed it
all. Now more could easily come in, and they were tapped out.


We need that money from the Historical Society,

she said.

Unfortunately, at
their last meeting President
Roussel
decided to proclaim this place an eyesore
and a potential disaster area, which made them move our roof inspection up. Now
we only have two weeks, and that

s if they don

t decide to come sooner.


How cocky
Roussel
got elected Parish President is still beyond me,

Dax
said.


He got elected because, cocky or not, he brought the females of the parish out

in record numbers to vote.

Dax
simply shook his head.

I don

t get it.


He

s nice on the eyes,

she admitted, then held up her palms defensively when
Dax
raised his brows.

Not that I care. He

s still the jerk that

s trying to
take our house. I

m simply stating a fact.


Well, I still don

t see it, but I do know why he

s talking the house down to
that historical bunch. It

s because his brother doesn

t want us to one-up his
place.

He rolled his head slowly from shoulder to shoulder, making a mess of
his brown wavy hair.

Hey, we can

t help it that Johnny
Roussel
decided to buy
the place next to ours. And we sure can

t help it if he

s worried we

ll
eventually get it restored completely, and no one will pay any attention
whatsoever to that big old pond and stupid water fountain he put in his front
yard. I

m telling you, if you ask me, it

s his place that

s an eyesore, not
ours, and that pond is nothing but a mosquito magnet.

Nanette smiled.
Dax
never failed to cheer her up, even if she knew Johnny and
Charles
Roussel
were determined to make her life—correction, all of their
lives—miserable.


Well, it doesn

t look like we

re getting any roofers today.

She folded her
arms as she examined the blue plastic product of
Dax
and Gage

s handiwork.

You
think the
Roussels
paid them not to come?

Dax
laughed throatily.

Hell, probably,

he said,

but that tarp will hold. You
wait and see.

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