The Drake House (35 page)

She screamed. Loud and long.

He clamped a hand over her mouth, and she couldn’t breathe. She tried to bite and kick. She wiggled and wiggled and wiggled, but he wouldn’t let go!

Then she was wet. Wet and cold.

She opened her eyes, trying to see, but there was only water. It was scary putting her head underwater. She only tried it once before. But this time she couldn’t lift her head. Something heavy was on top of her. Water filled her nose, her mouth. She tried to get out. Tried, tried, tried.

After a long, long time, everything turned blue. Blue like the sky. And the scariness was gone.

Lexie’s voice floated to her, like a dream but she wasn’t asleep. “Tell them what happened, Trisha. Tell them everything.”

****

Trisha’s eyes flew open. The cold retracted from her brain, her skull, then her skin. Swaying, she felt the blood stop flowing in her veins. Her heart pumped behind her ribs slowly, gradually, until she knew it would ultimately stop.

This was it.

Looking over at Nick as he strained against the cuffs to reach her, she thought it so strange she couldn’t hear anything. But she told him the one thing she thought he would remember.

“Not…your fault.”

****

They had air-lifted Trisha to a Madison hospital almost two hours ago. Nick ground his teeth in worry waiting for any news. Brad kept alternating between sitting in the waiting room chair next to him and pacing. It was driving him bat shit crazy.

Alexandra Drake had come back from the dead. She had touched Trisha, and his world stopped the instant her heart did.

Nick closed his eyes, remembering how he slammed his foot against the banister, trying to get the wood to break so he could free himself. The damn thing had been solid.

He’d never felt so fucking helpless in his life.

Not your fault
, Trisha had said before she collapsed.

It had been a matter of seconds. Alexandra touched her; she turned blue and fell. Roaring, he had kicked at the banister, finally getting the satisfaction of hearing it crack. But before he could work the cuff out, the keys slid out of Trisha’s still hand and across the floor, stopping an inch from his foot.

Thank you for coming
.

That’s what the voice had said before the house returned to normal. A shrill whisper without a soul to speak it.

Nick opened his eyes and looked down to read Lafferty’s new text. Last he’d heard, they were getting statements from the guests and sending them home. They’d found Wayne Radcliff’s dead body in Alexandra Drake’s old grave an hour ago.

Hernandezs and Eatons on their way to you. Your parents as well. CSI’s going over Drake house. Any word on her yet?

He didn’t tell Lafferty the ghost story. No one would’ve believed him.
He
didn’t believe him. Nick punched in his response.

No
.

Trish had a pulse when they took her away—a thready one. Not knowing what else to do, he’d put his suit coat over her and pulled her to him for warmth.

“The doctor’s coming,” Brad said, standing again.

Nick swallowed. Prayed. Bargained. Dared to hope she wasn’t dead.

Don’t be dead, Trish
.

The doctor crossed his arms. “She’s in ICU. Her heart rate was very slow from the hypothermia. Once her body temp went up, her heart rate stabilized. There’s some frostbite on her feet and hands, but it’s not severe. We’ll keep an eye on it. Our largest concern now is why she’s not waking up. She’s not responding to pain stimuli; however, she
is
breathing on her own. The hypothermia may have caused some brain damage, but to what extent, we won’t know until she wakes up. The scans looked good. We’re giving her fluids right now, but if she doesn’t awaken in the next twenty-four hours, we’ll have to insert a feeding tube. The baby can’t go that long without eating—”

“What baby?” they both said simultaneously.

The doctor looked between the two of them. “She’s…pregnant. About nine or ten weeks along. I guess this is a surprise.”

Pregnant.
Oh God. Oh damn. To say it was a surprise was an understatement. He wanted to grin like an idiot and pass out in the same instant. But, how was it possible? “She said she had less than a twenty percent chance of conceiving. Is the baby okay?”

The doctor nodded. “Heart rate is within normal rhythm, and the baby was moving a bit on the ultrasound. It’s too early to check much else. We need to know if she has a living will.”

Nick looked at Brad, who nodded.

“We’ll need a copy of that by this afternoon. In the meantime, the nurse will take you up to see her. No more than two people at a time.”

They rode the elevator up in silence. His brain was clicking a mile a minute. After the nurse directed them where to go, they both went into Trisha’s private room. She had an IV in her left arm, but other than that, she looked fine. Asleep.

What had Alexandra done to her? Nick ran a hand down his face, wondering if she’d ever wake up. She had to. She had to wake up. He hoped it wouldn’t be with brain damage. He wondered if she knew she was pregnant. His eyes glanced down to her belly.

Pregnant. With
his
child.

Nine or ten weeks the doctor said. That would put conception near that time they made love at his house. The day he realized he was in love with her. Everything
did
change that day.
Everything
.

His body started to shake. All he could do was sink in a nearby chair. She’d wanted kids, but said she couldn’t. He wanted to be the guy to give them to her, but was only half a man until now.
Until her.

The room smelled like antiseptic and latex. Her gown was light-blue with navy spots. Her sheets were white. The tulips on the wallpaper border were bright red.
She did that
. She brought all his senses back for him. Fixed him. Including the pain deep in his chest as he stared at her, internally demanding she wake up.

What happened with Bethany had nearly broken him for good. If Trisha didn’t wake up, he was confident he’d die, too. There was no point, no joy to life without her.

Brad sat next to her on the bed and started talking to her. He received no response for his efforts. Openly crying, he looked at Nick. “I don’t think she knew she was pregnant. She would’ve told me. She wouldn’t have risked the baby.”

“I know.” Nick looked away. She’d risk herself for anyone. Had for him. She all but begged Steve to let him go. But even she wouldn’t have done that had she known.

“You wanna come talk to her?”

Nick shook his head as a nurse entered the room to check her IV. He’d wait until they were alone to say what he had to say. Words he should have said months ago, and that because of her, he had forgiven himself. Finally let go. Wanted to live again.

Over the course of the next six hours, he watched her family, his family, and the men who worked for her come and go. He’d heard every rendition of Jingle Bells over the PA system. He’d memorized each freckle on her right arm. He refused to leave without her. When they tried to force him out after visiting hours, he whipped out his badge, stating she was under his protection.

It wasn’t a whole lie. Trisha would be under his protection for the rest of her natural damn life, whether she liked it or not. If only she’d open her eyes.

And at four a.m. on Christmas morning, that’s just what she did.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ten months later…

“Quit your bitching and hold your goddaughter.”

Brad’s eyes narrowed to slits, but he took the baby from Trish. “I’m not changing another poopy diaper.” One look at her daughter and he smiled, though. “Bethany Alexandra Mackey, it is a very lucky thing you look like your daddy. You’d be in trouble if you looked like your mom.”

“Very funny. And since when do you take Nick’s side on everything? Traitor. You’re
my
best friend.”

Brad never took his eyes from the baby. “Since he made you so happy.”

She smiled and looked around the room. “We did good here, Brad.”

Brad glanced around the formal living room at her B&B. She watched his expression as he took everything in.

They’d restored the house to its former glory, and it was beautiful. Alexandra’s books were displayed proudly on the shelves beside the fireplace. A portrait of her hung above the mantel with a plaque relaying her biography. Trisha had told the truth. Everything. Just like Alexandra had wanted.

“And not a ghost in sight,” Brad said.

No. Alexandra Drake had most assuredly moved on since the truth had been revealed, having finally gotten justice. As happy as Trisha was for that, she kinda missed the presence of her former neighbor.

Of course, that’s not what the paranormal investigative team said when they came to film for their show. They claimed spirits were still here. Sprits, as in plural. Funny, she’d only known of one. Playing up the ghost story angle for the show drew a ton of people in, and all the rooms were booked straight through till spring.

Trisha looked over at the front desk in the foyer. Betty Fitzgerald was dusting the desk for the fiftieth time. Trisha had been able to bring on twenty fulltime workers and ten part-time from town, including Nancy and Eduardo, who moved into the attic apartment.

Thanks to the national attention the show brought, a new strip mall was going up just outside of town to draw in more tourism. Small Rapids was nestled between two lakes. Fishing enthusiasts were coming year round. There were still a few people complaining about what she did, but when did she ever listen to them?

Nancy came in from the kitchen, a towel slung over her shoulder. “Muffins are ready for the morning. Now give me that baby.” Without waiting for a response, she took her from Brad and started cooing in Spanish.

“You know, Trish, she could be corrupting that little girl and we’d never know.”

Nancy pursed her lips. “Hush up. Go wait outside. Our first guests should be arriving soon.”

Laughing, they stepped out onto the porch, breathing in autumn. Trisha sat down on a rocking chair and set it in motion with her feet. A bushel of apples from her orchard sat next to the door, and on each of the steps, were pumpkins from the neighboring farm.

They’d cut back most of the trees to have more yard space, but the woods were still dense. With the walking path no longer hidden, guests could come and go from the activities on the orchard with ease. They’d widened the path, laying down the same cobblestones as the driveway.

Trisha tilted her head, watching Nick show the new deputy around the grounds. Nick had brought in a guy from Milwaukee to help out, having also been able to employ nine full-timers from town with the new budget.

“So, what do you think of our new deputy, Brad?”

He grunted. “I don’t like him.”

Trisha laughed. “You don’t like anyone. I think Jake is nice. And cute. And gay.”

Brad crossed his arms. “Well, I still don’t like him.”

Yeah, right.
“We’ll see.”

He looked at her. “When you finally marry Nick, then I’ll let you meddle in my love life.”

Game on.
“Perhaps a spring wedding? That would be lovely.”

Brad didn’t have time to counter her remark. Nick climbed the stairs with said deputy in tow. He tilted her chin up and kissed her before brushing a thumb across her cheek.

She smiled. “Brad and I were just discussing a spring wedding. What do you think?”

“I think you should marry me, not Brad.”

“Har, har,” she quipped. But secretly, she was giddy inside. Nick was so different without the weight of his past on him. He still mourned and missed Bethany terribly, but as a brother now, and not shrouded in guilt.

He looked down at her hand and swallowed while sliding a ring on her finger. He’d tried to give it to her before, but she made him wait until she was ready. “I want to marry you on Christmas. That’s the day your heart stopped and mine started. The day all the darkness ended. The day I found out about our little girl.”

Well, damn.
He didn’t say much, but he did still have a way of turning her into a sniveling sap. “Christmas it is. But Brad is my maid of honor, not your best man.”

His grin said it all, the light hitting his green eyes. Their daughter inherited those eyes. “Whatever you say, ma’am.” He kissed her forehead, brushed his cheek against hers.

“I love you,” he whispered for her ears only.

“I love you, too.”

He straightened. “Your first guests are here.”

Standing, she peered over to the driveway. “So they are. Are you planning on showing Jake around the orchard today?”

“Yep.”

Trisha’s grin widened. “Good. Take Brad with you.” Trisha laughed at the murderous glare Brad whipped her. “Hey, you promised. I’m marrying Nick, so I get to meddle.” She waved a dismissive hand at seeing Nick’s confusion. “I’ll tell you later, dear.” Brad’s glare didn’t soften, but he followed the new deputy and Nick over the path toward the orchard.

It was a start.

The first guests—a couple from Green Bay—exited their sedan and stepped onto the porch.

“This is so lovely,” the woman said, pulling off a hat to reveal short auburn curls. “It’s so much bigger than I thought.”

She extended her hand to the both of them. “I’m Trisha, and welcome to The Drake Inn. I’ll show you your room first, then how about a tour?”

They issued their consent, so Trisha checked them in at the front desk. After today she’d let Betty do this, but as the first guests, Trisha wanted the honors. Once the couple signed the book, she handed them a key and gestured for them to precede her up the stairs.

“Last door on your left. You’ll be staying in suite six.”

“I must admit,” the woman said, passing the grandfather clock at the top of the stairs and heading toward the hall. Her husband trailed behind, struggling with the suitcase. “We booked a reservation because we saw that show on TV. I love that kind of stuff. Is this place really haunted?”