The Guests on South Battery (22 page)

With renewed confidence, I parked the car in the carriage house and hoisted each child in my arms, entering the house through the kitchen. I heard them laughing from somewhere inside the house, the sound of a golf ball being struck as loud as a firecracker in my ears. I listened to all three dogs barking and scampering after what sounded like a ball rolling across the hard floor, followed by a shout of laughter from Jack. Then there was a silence so loud and pregnant that I couldn't move, could barely breathe. A silence that seemed to go on and on. Even my heartbeats seemed leaden. The children watched me in absolute silence, as if they, too, wondered what was happening on the other side of the kitchen door.

I forgot all about the new Melanie, leaving her on her knees panting in the dust. Quietly, I stepped back through the kitchen and let myself out the door, closing it softly behind us.

I
glanced up at the sound of a car door slamming and saw my mother's car parked behind mine in the driveway at the Pinckney mansion on South Battery. It was a Sunday, so the workmen's trucks were gone, although the overflowing Dumpster still monopolized most of the driveway.

She wore a long and drapey red sweater over a black blouse and cigarette pants, with small, dainty kitten heels on her feet. Red leather gloves covered her hands up over her wrists. She looked beautiful as always, and way too young to be my mother. The only thing marring her features as she approached me was the small crease in her brow caused by her expression of concern when she regarded me.

She sat down next to me on the brick steps, unaware or uncaring of their dusty nature. “Are you all right, Mellie?”

I sniffed. “Just a spring cold,” I said, adding a cough just in case the sniffing wasn't enough to convince her.

“You told me it was allergies on the phone,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I think it might be both.”

She frowned at me. “What's wrong, Mellie? Did you and Jack have a fight?”

Maybe it was the last twenty-four hours of misery and lack of sleep, but like a hairline crack in a dam during a flood, that nudge of compassion immediately destroyed all my composure, allowing every self-pitying fiber in my body to spill out onto my mother's shoulder.

She held me tightly and patted my back the way I did to JJ when I tried to tell him that he couldn't eat dirt. “Now, now, Mellie. It can't be as bad as all that. Why don't you tell me about it so we can figure this out together?”

“It's Jack,” I sobbed. “And Jayne.”

She drew back and for a moment I thought she was upset about the makeup and tears saturating her sweater. “What about Jack and Jayne?”

“When I came home on Friday after walking in the park with Sophie and the babies, he and Jayne were in the foyer.” I stopped, hoping she would use her psychic abilities so I wouldn't have to finish the story.

“Okay. They were in the foyer. And then what happened?”

I sighed. Why did this psychic gift never work when I needed it to? “I heard them. I think they were practicing golf swings or something—”

“In the house?” she interrupted. “You'd better not let Sophie know. She'd have a fit and probably plaster them both up in a wall.”

Fresh tears sprang to my eyes as I imagined Jack and Jayne stuck together for all eternity.

Ginette resumed patting my back. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I was just trying to lighten the mood. So what happened next?”

“Well,” I sniffed, “I heard the sound of a club hitting a ball and then the ball rolling. Jack laughed at something and then . . .”

“And then?” She leaned forward.

“Nothing. Not a sound. Not a word or another laugh. Nothing. Silence.”

“And when you walked into the foyer, what was going on?”

I stared at my mother, stricken. “What do you mean? I didn't want to walk in on them!”

She stared back at me for a long moment, blinking. “You didn't go in to see what was going on?”

I shook my head. “I couldn't. I didn't want to see them . . .”

“See them what, Mellie?”

I shrugged, not wanting to put my fears into words. “You know.”

Ginette sat back and took a deep breath. “Actually, I don't. Because you didn't go in to see for yourself and instead allowed your imagination to fill in the blanks.”

“But what else could they be doing besides . . . besides . . . hanky-panky?” I spat out, using Jack's words that suddenly sounded worse than if I'd used the word “fornication.”

“Oh, I don't know,” she said, pretending to think. “Practicing their putting, maybe? Admiring a painting? Or maybe they'd walked into another room and you couldn't hear them. There are dozens of things they could have been doing that could never be called ‘hanky-panky.'” She gave me a settling look. “So, what did Jack say when you asked him about it?”

I became suddenly very interested in studying my cuticles.

As if following my train of thought, she gently took hold of my chin with her thumb and index finger and forced me to look at her. “What did Jack say, Mellie? It's been almost two days. Surely you've talked to him by now.”

I shook my head, dislodging a drip from the end of my nose. “I couldn't. I've been hiding out in the guest room pretending I have the flu and sneaking into the nursery when Jayne isn't around so I can see the children.”

She put her fingers on her temples and I was encouraged, thinking she was channeling somebody to help me. Instead she just shook her head. “This is worse than I thought. Mellie, sweetheart, what happened to your resolution to be a better version of yourself? You're a wife and mother now. You need to be more open and honest in all your relationships—especially your marriage. You deserve it, and—more important—your children deserve it. Jack loves you, Mellie. I have never for a single moment doubted that, and I don't believe you do, either. Regardless of what was going on in that foyer, you owe it to yourself, your marriage, and your children to find out and deal with it.”

She reached over and took both my hands in her gloved ones.
“Promise me that you'll deal with this tonight? That you'll talk with Jack and get this all sorted out?” Her lips twitched into a small smile. “I must say makeup sex is always the best sex.”

I pulled away, thoroughly disgusted. “Ew, Mother. Please don't ever use the word ‘sex' in my hearing—especially when I know you're referring to you and Dad. It's just . . . wrong.”

“I have no idea why you think that way, Mellie. After all, how else do you think you got here?”

I shuddered again and she laughed. “All right. I'll try not to say it again in your hearing. But promise me you'll talk to Jack? Tonight. Don't let this fester any longer.”

“But what if—”

She put her finger on my lips to silence me. “Just find out. I'm sure it's not anything near as dire as you think. You'll never know until you talk it out with Jack. I know you prefer the head-in-the-sand approach that you apply to most ghosts, but I don't think that's worked out very well for you, either, has it?”

“No, but . . .”

She gave me a look that made me stop what I was about to say.

I made no move to go inside, and not just because of the waves of energy beyond the door in the house behind us, the pulsing against the weather-beaten wood and peeling paint like little fists.

“Mother, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. Anything. I hope you realize how desperate I am to make up for all those absent years when a girl needs her mother most.”

I blinked at her, my eyes prickling with moisture. “Am I fat?”

“What?” She actually leaned away from me, as if I'd uttered a really bad expletive.

“Am I fat? I need you to be honest with me.”

She took a deep breath and settled back into her place next to me. “No, Mellie. You're not fat by anyone's definition. You've definitely filled out more since your pregnancy, but it suits you. You might have been a little too thin before—although I have no idea how you managed that, since I've never seen a person eat that much junk food and not be
the size of a house—but with the added pounds you have female curves in all the right places.”

“So you're saying you can tell that I've gained weight?”

“Sweetheart, your body has just created two of the most precious children—you should honor it by adoring it and treating it well. Most important, you need to realize that dress size is only a number. A woman can be beautiful in any size, as long as she conducts herself with self-confidence. That alone is worth all the makeup and expensive clothes in the world.”

I leaned into her. “Where were you when I was sixteen and really needed to hear this?”

“Yes, well, that's part of your problem, I'm afraid. But we'll work through this together, all right?”

I nodded, then sniffed. “Jayne has the body I used to have, doesn't she?”

“Yes, she does. Well, except for the bust. You never had a bust like that. But you're not Jayne. And Jack picked you. Never forget that.”

“Thank you,” I said. “If it means anything to you, I'd say you've more than made up for lost time. It seems a shame that all your wisdom is wasted on just one child.”

A shadow passed over her face, and I looked up, surprised to find a bright blue and cloudless sky. She smiled, casting aside any hint of clouds or shadows. “Yes, well, that's what grandchildren are for. And because of you, I now have three whom I adore. So really I should be thanking
you
for making my old age not nearly as bleak as I once imagined it might be.”

Without a tissue I resorted to wiping my nose with the back of my hand while my mother pretended not to notice. “So,” I said as I stood, “you ready to fight some ghosts?”

My mother stood, too, delicately wiping the seat of her pants as we turned to look up at the house. “As ready as ever. I got a good night's sleep and I'm well hydrated—and I'm prepared for what's coming. I think that could have been the problem when we met with Veronica.
I was completely taken off guard. This won't be easy, and it will probably weaken me, but I'll be ready for it. And you'll be here to hold my hand so we can be stronger together.”

“Deal,” I said, unlocking the door and leading her into the foyer. “Why did you suggest we come in the middle of the day? I thought you said that the spirits were always more active at night.”

“They are. There are fewer electrical disturbances at night, so they have more energy then. I thought it best that I first meet them when I'm not the one at a disadvantage.”

“Good idea,” I said as I closed the door behind me. The house was an even bigger mess than the last time I'd been there because, I was sure, of Jayne's reluctance to decide what she wanted to do with all the furniture. So it had to be moved and stacked in a different room as the renovations progressed. The only rooms Sophie had marked as out-of-bounds were the attic room and Button's room because of their personal nature. But, as she'd mentioned, the roof repair wasn't going to wait much longer and something would need to be done sooner rather than later. As long as she promised not to move any of it to my house for safekeeping until Jayne decided, I didn't really care what happened to it.

Ginette lifted the hair off the back of her neck, a sheen of perspiration already making her face dewy. “It's cool outside, but my body can't seem to regulate its temperature, so I'm either burning up or freezing all the time. I guess that comes with age.”

“It's cooler upstairs with the window unit—assuming they remembered to keep Button's door open.”

“I think it's about to get a lot colder.” Her gaze met mine. “Do you feel it?” Her voice was barely louder than a hush.

I nodded. “I hear lots of voices, but I think that's just because we're both here and we're acting as a portal for lost spirits. But there are two strong presences—although there might be more. It's just that they're overshadowed by these other two.”

My mother nodded and stared at the staircase just as a flash of white disappeared around the corner of the landing, followed by the very faint
sound of running feet. Very slowly and deliberately, Ginette began to remove her gloves finger by finger. “I feel them. One is gentle; almost sweet, I think.” She turned to me, her eyes wide. “She wants to show us something. She's the one who wants our help.”

I nodded. “I think I just saw her. Running up the stairs.”

“You can see now?”

“Yes,” I said with some relief. “Like I said, it comes and goes. But nothing's blocking me now.”

Her lips pressed together in a grim line. “Button loved this house. It's so sad to see it this way.” She spun around, taking in the holes in the plaster and the warped wooden floor planks. “I guess it was more than she could handle as she got older.” Her forehead creased. “I wonder why she didn't leave the lake house to Jayne instead of this one.”

“The lake house? Amelia mentioned Button's family had one, but I assumed it was sold or something, because it wasn't part of the estate as far as I know.”

She nodded, her head tilted back to see the gaping hole where a Baccarat chandelier had been removed and now sat in a corner covered with an oilcloth. “Well, the Pinckney family owned a house on a lake, not too far from Birmingham—that's where Jayne's from, right? Lake Jasper, I believe. In Alabama. I used to go up there for weeks at a time during the summers with Button and her family. The house had actually been designed and constructed by Anna's father's company. That's how the families met, I believe.” She smiled to herself, her expression blurred with memories. “The Pinckneys must have let it go at some point. It's a shame, really. It wasn't as grand as this place, but it was cozy and beautiful, and right on the lake. We spent many happy times there. Jayne might have found it easier to be at home there instead of in a place like this.”

“Unless it's as old as this place,” I said, only half joking. “I'll ask Jayne—maybe her lawyers mentioned it. If not, we'll just have to assume that it was sold years ago.”

I led the way upstairs, feeling someone watching us, someone waiting. For what, I wasn't sure. All I knew was that
it
knew we could sense
it, could tell that we knew it was coiled and waiting to spring. Probably knew that I was petrified and on edge. And for a brief moment, I wondered why I'd thought that losing my psychic abilities would be such a bad thing.

We paused in the upstairs hallway, my mother looking down the hall toward a closed door. “Can I go see Button's room? I don't think I've been in there since we graduated from Ashley Hall.”