The Rosaries (Crossroads Series) (8 page)

The other paintings were mostly abstract, and Natalie felt that Aunt Catherine had used brush and canvas to express her most hidden feelings. They were all quite sad and void of bright colors, but their quality was striking. And finally she found the velvet pouch. She opened it and pulled out an exquisite rosary with gems of different colors. Instinctually she held it to her heart and she was suddenly transported back to her dream; once again she was standing in front of herself. After a moment she was back in the room, scared but also feeling strangely empowered. She put the rosary back into the pouch and slid it into her pocket near the letter, then picked up a few of the paintings and headed out.

With the paintings obliterating her view, she didn’t notice
Lakeisha
standing quietly behind the door of the adjacent room.
Lakeisha
was now quite certain that finding a job at Catherine
Bouvier’s
home was all but random. The prophecy was indeed on its way to being fulfilled.

Chapter Five

When she finally reached home and checked her messages, Natalie was mortified to hear five of them were from Ryan Wheeler. Although he tried to be polite in all of them, it was clear that he was quite annoyed with being stood up. She decided to call him back right away, and almost wished he wouldn’t answer. But, of course, he did.

“Hello”

“Ryan, this is Natalie Sanders. I am so sorry about today, but there was an emergency and I had to leave in a rush.”

Ryan cleared his throat before replying. “An emergency? What happened?’

“It was Aunt Catherine, Ryan. She was taken to the hospital this morning, and she passed away this afternoon. Acute congestive heart failure, the doctor said. It appears that her heart was already damaged by mild heart attacks she suffered in the past.”

“Oh my God, I had no idea. Are you okay?”

Natalie swallowed the knot she felt in her throat and tried her best to remain in control of her emotions.

“I’m as good as can be expected, I guess. She was a nice lady.” As she spoke those words, Natalie looked up toward the ceiling.

There you go, Aunt Catherine. I suppose you are forgiven. I never thought so before, but I really think you are a nice lady, and I wish now I could have known you better…

“I am so sorry, Natalie. Is there anything I can do?”

“Everything happened so suddenly that I am not entirely sure what needs to be done. My mother is taking care of the arrangements but I haven’t heard any details yet.”

And I’m sure I’ll be the last one to hear. The neighbors will find out before me…

“Listen, Natalie, may I come by tomorrow? I know there is little I can do, but unless you’re planning on spending time with your family I would really like to be there with you and for you.”

“I would really like to have a little time to grieve on my own, Ryan. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course I do. How inconsiderate of me. Will you please call me when you find out details about the wake and the funeral?”

“Of course….”

“Take care, Natalie.”

“You too, Ryan. And thank you.”

She hung up and sat back on the sofa. Billy appeared from the bedroom and loudly demanded the attention he lacked throughout the afternoon. She scratched under his chin – to which he responded with a purring serenade – and closed her eyes. There was so much she needed to process that right now she felt completely overwhelmed. She glanced at the paintings she had left by the door, and felt a sharp pain shoot through her heart. Could a heart truly be broken? She thought of Aunt Catherine’s one-time affair with her father, and felt her stomach lurch at the mere thought of the next family gathering. Jokes apart, Aunt Catherine’s funeral was going to be arranged within the next few days, and there was no way she could escape that sentence. Not that she wanted to. If only after her death, Aunt Catherine had done something wonderful – for the first time in her life Natalie felt she belonged with someone in her family, faults and all.

What about the rosary Aunt Catherine bought for her daughter? Was there something special about it? She was well aware of her overactive imagination, but she knew that something very strange happened when she held it in her hand. Reliving the images of her dream in such vivid detail was something she hadn’t expected, and the whole episode caught her by surprise and electrified her. Somehow, she knew that what happened in the dream was an omen for something real to manifest. She stood up abruptly, hoping the shift of pressure would clear her mind, and she headed to the kitchen to make some coffee. Coffee was probably not a good idea
at this time in the evening, but she needed the comfort of something warm, and tea just didn’t sound bold enough.

While the coffee brewed she changed into her night clothes and washed her face. When she looked up to reach for the towel, she gasped at what she saw. The woman looking back at her from the mirror didn’t look as weak as she felt right now, and she instantly thought back about her dream. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, the strange image was gone. Her eyes were playing tricks on her – or maybe it was her mind. She remembered reading once that the human brain can only temporarily store a limited amount of information before having the opportunity to sort it during sleep. Natalie’s brain had reached capacity; in fact, it was probably beginning to overflow.

She went to the kitchen to get her coffee and went straight to bed with the mug in one hand and the velvet pouch in the other. She placed the rosary under her pillow and took a few sips of coffee. Despite the caffeine, her eyelids felt suddenly very heavy, so she placed the mug on the side table, hoping that Billy would not knock it off during his night-time acrobatics. The moment her head touched the pillow, sleep whisked her away. That night, Aunt Catherine was happy that Natalie forgave her.

Melody
Bennet
was already in bed when she heard Mario open the main door and walk into the house. He worked exceptionally late hours lately, and she was beginning to feel the loneliness of the many evenings she spent alone at the farm. She heard him drop his keys on the small table at the entrance, and go to the kitchen to get some water. He was such a man of routine that Melody knew he was going to use the bathroom next, and then he was going to come upstairs to bed. That was the part of his routine she liked most, and she almost giggled when the shadow of his statuesque body materialized in the darkness of the room. He lay down carefully, afraid to wake her, but she reached out to grab his leg from under the covers and scared the daylights out of him.

“Melody! You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

She laughed and ran her arms around his chest, drawing him closer to herself, deeply inhaling the soft smell of lingering tobacco mixed with his natural scent. “God forbid. What would I do for pleasure if you had a heart attack?”

“That’s exactly right, Missy. So think about it next time.”

“Well, there is really only one thing I can think of right now.” She winked in the darkness of the room and wondered if Mario saw that.

That thought was quickly shot down by the ripples of delight she felt cursing through her body as Mario turned around and kissed her deeply. His hot tongue pushed against the line of her teeth and she eagerly opened her mouth to taste him. His hands cupped her face and then slid down to her breast with the skill of a master. He gently squeezed her nipples between his fingers and she groaned inwardly. She reached out to touch him and shivered when her fingers touched pure steel beautifully wrapped in tanned, glistening skin. He took her nipples in his mouth, and his tongue played with them until Melody arched her body to feel closer to him. As his mouth slid down her stomach and went down to her center of pleasure, Melody felt raw fire rising up inside of her, engulfing her swollen and pulsating core. She exploded into a powerful orgasm, followed by a wave of peace, as Mario gently moved his body on top of her and entered her slowly. He rode her body with passion, and each of his small cries was one more arrow into Melody’s heart. God, she loved him so! When he was finally spent, he remained on top of her for a while, his breathing still hard and his heart thumping furiously against her breasts. She wrapped her arms around him, eager to make this moment last. When he finally rolled off of her she sighed happily.

“Wow! That was some homecoming.” His breathing was still hard.

“I love you Mario”

“And I love you, Melody.” He kissed her lips gently, sealing a wonderful moment he hadn’t expected.

“I thought you were going to be asleep; it’s past two in the morning.”

“I started reading a new novel and really got into the story. I had just turned off the light when I heard you coming in.”

Mario smiled and his white teeth glistened in the darkness of the room. “Well, lucky me, then. I need to send that author a little thank you note.”

They hugged and fell quickly asleep, their bodies happily spent and their minds thankful that in a world filled with hate, love could still be found.

It was three o’clock in the morning, but
Lakeisha
still could not find sleep. She accurately detailed her report to Sister Justine, and told her about the rosary. Just writing about it brought a strange sensation upon her, and she could swear she had seen
something
when Natalie took it out of the pouch, but wasn’t sure what. How could
Lakeisha
have missed that door? The moment she saw the rosary in Natalie’s hand, everything began to make sense to her – finding a job at the
Bouvier’s
home the moment she got into town was not a coincidence as she had originally thought. What was she supposed to do now? Catherine
Bouvier
was dead, and
Lakeisha
knew she wasn’t supposed to interfere with divine plans. She hoped that Sister Justine could come up with a plan of action, because it was going to be very hard to protect something that was kept twenty miles away from where she was. She had the distinct feeling of not being alone in the room, and looked around several times to find only shadows. Suddenly she heard a sound coming from downstairs, and her heart leaped. Who, or what, could it be at this time?

She donned her robe and opened the door of her room. She called out into the darkness of the hallway. “Hello? Is someone there?”

She heard nothing. She listened quietly for a moment, and was ready to retreat back into her room when she heard it again. It sounded like a cane being tapped gently on a hard floor.

“Hello? Mr. Phillip? Is that you?”

No answer.

“Mrs. Angela? Is somebody there? Natalie?”

She ran through the list of names in her mind to see if she could think of anyone who might have a key to the house – she couldn’t think of a single soul, apart from the Sanders.

She went back into her room and grabbed the fireplace poker from its stand, then went back out and stretched her arm to turn on the chandelier in the hallway. Bright light flooded the staircase, and
Lakeisha
felt a wave of relief wash over her -- darkness has a unique way of magnifying the spooks, especially in an old house like this one. She went slowly down the stairs and heard the tapping sound again.

Tap. Tap. Tap
.

What on earth could it be?

She walked across the foyer and quickly turned on all the lights using the panel by the front door. “Who’s there? Please identify yourself, I have a weapon and I will use it.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound was coming from the kitchen. Oh God, had someone come in from the back door? It didn’t sound good at all – why would anyone who had any legitimate business in this household come through the service door? And at three o’clock in the morning of all visiting hours!

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It was getting closer.
Lakeisha
felt fear slithering like a snake in her gut. She was terrified. She turned on the kitchen light and saw something on the table. She scanned the room first, to make sure no one was hiding in the corners that weren’t visible from the doorway, and when she felt that the whole area was free of humans and spooks, she finally made her way to the table to identify the object that caught her eye. A strong scent of cigar filled the air, and
Lakeisha
could swear she heard sounds that reminded her of soft laughter coming from the library. Of course, she knew it could be auditory and olfactory illusion, influenced by being alone in an empty, old house, but even trying to rationalize what she smelled and heard didn’t help. With her heart threatening to jump into her throat and with shaky legs, she looked at the small shining object on the table: A key. When she picked it up and turned it around, she saw the initials USPS…it was the key to a post office box. She held the key tight in her hand and closed her eyes, as she knew damn well it wasn’t on the table before she went upstairs.
He
had been here; now there was no denying that things were in fast motion. She put the key into the pocket of her robe, then headed back up to her room keeping the fireplace poker down at her side. She wasn’t in any danger – that much she knew. As she climbed the steps, she wondered what could be in the box and where the post office was located. A morning call to the main line of the postal service would certainly clear that question, and
Lakeisha
felt that everything else would be answered in time. She turned off the light in the hallway and walked into her room. While she closed the door she heard the sound one final time.