She bit her lip on the scold her instinct urged her to air. It wasn’t her place to discipline DeLille’s employees. However, she’d be certain to tell the grocer of this man’s intrusive behavior and ask that he not be sent toSweet Dreamsagain.
The men got into the wagon and headed out, Taddy waving.
After lunch, Grace headed out to start building the corral behind the stable. As she rounded the corner of the building, she stopped hard, staring. “How—?” She gaped and something akin to panic washed through her.
Every single fence post stood in its own hole; the surrounding space filled with Portland Cement. The posts were braced on two sides and strung together with a kickboard. In the mid-afternoon heat, she shivered. This was impossible. As impossible as a blanket beating out flames with no one to hold it?
Who’d put up the fencing? Not the same person who set fire to the house, surely. A fire extinguished with the help of some unknown person or entity. The sledge hammer falling in mid-air flashed into her mind’s eye along with the moon gifts.I refuse to believe Sweet Dreams ishaunted even by a helpful ghost.
Shaking her head, she returned to the house.
Something was very wrong here, but what? She’d wanted to leave fear and stress behind in Boston. How had it followed her here? Despair sat stonelike in her core. Yes, the causes were different, but the helpless feeling was the same. She was alone fighting against a world determined to destroy her. Moping would solve nothing. Work. Work is what she needed.Sweet Dreamsrequired work inspades. They were made for each other. Time to start white washing the ground floor walls.
By evening, Grace had completed about one third of the ground level walls. At the rate she was going, the Portland Cement of the corral would be set firm when she’d finished white washing, and she’d be able to start putting up fence rails.
She was tired. The exhaustion felt good, much better than the despair that hovered waiting to beat her down. Too weary to haul water for a bath, she washed off the day’s dirt and sweat with a sponge bath. She really needed to install a bathroom with a tub and shower. That would require plumbing, which was beyond her skill level. Chores finished, she strolled to the dock, lantern in hand. Grace walked out to the end, and sat, letting the still quiet engulf her senses. The sunset colors dimmed, and night sounds rose. A waxing gibbous moon climbed the sky to the east, its reflection shimmering on the black water. A froggy chorus eased worry over events she could not explain. A gator bellowed a warning to unseen enemies. The near human scream of a bobcat answered the gator. Grace knew she could defend herself against most anything, but was she a gator or a bobcat? In a fight between bobcat and full-grown gator, she’d bet on the gator. Survival forced her to bet on herself. The growls and hisses faded, replaced with owl hoots and the teasing song of a whippoorwill. She tilted her head back and just listened. Grace inhaled the bayou night, a scent she’d found nowhere else in the world. At least the bayou aromas dulled the annoyingly pervasive sulfur and cinnamon miasma.
***
Luc had spent the previous night recovering from the debilitating pain of going to Duval Point. He needed the rest to knit his spun-out senses back together This morning, he’d observed the delivery of Grace’s supplies. He’d followed the second man around the house, watching him poke into drawers and search under furniture. The scoundrel had even run his hands over the fireplaces and hearths.
He knew what the man was after.
How had the fellow’s boss persuaded DeLille to let him help Taddy?
After Grace sent the man outside, Luc had continued to track where the miscreant went, noting the very thorough search of the stables. He could’ve told the searcher that the sought for item wasn’t there. Luc had been searching the house and grounds ofSweet Dreamssince September of 1855. In the fortieth year of his curse, a hurricane had picked up theOnly Love, spinning it end over end, and slamming it down in this backwater too shallow for his ship to leave. His possessions, including the small wooden box with its precious contents had been scattered from one end of the bayous north of New Orleans to the other. He’d spent a year’s worth of full moons searching for and retrieving everything. However, the box and the gris gris inside had eluded discovery. The gris gris, a voodoo doll, was part of the curse process and would exist until the curse ended. Only then could it be destroyed. Had hands other than his own destroyed it, Luc would have died. Despite the bitterness of outliving everything and everyone he loved; he could not bring himself to contemplate suicide. Hence, possession of the gris gris was important. In addition, the doll could be used to control his powers as its holder demanded. Living his early years under his very demanding father’s thumb had given Luc a distaste for subservience.
The story of a scorned woman and the pirate she’d cursed had faded to rumor and myth. Nonetheless, from time to time, some power-seeker would learn the details and send henchmen or come in person to find the doll. Such people could be dangerous. Someone had set the fire that murdered Grace’s parents. The crime had never been solved. He believed, they had died because of him and that curse. The same had been tried with Grace less than two days past. Now a man was sent to search the house and grounds. What would such a man do if Grace learned of his snooping and tried to stop him?
Luc vowed to keep a more careful watch.
The men left, and Grace had gone into the house to work. With nothing to do, he couldn’t resist setting the fence posts for her. Spectral strength and speed had made the work easy and quick. He’d known she’d be perplexed, but he’d eventually confess. When he was certain she trusted him enough to believe he was cursed. Meanwhile, Luc had no intention of avoidingSweet Dreamsor itsowner. She was too intriguing. An intelligent, uniquely attractive woman, with the grit and determination to live on her own while restoring a decaying plantation despite debilitating emotions. Even her persistent but repressed fear and anger roused his interest. How many other women like her had he known in his nine plus decades on earth?
One, two perhaps, and none with those underlying emotions.
He made a bit of a clatter when his feet hit the dock.
Grace grabbed the lantern, leapt up and whirled, all in one move. She held the light like a weapon, right hand fingers wrapped around the metal grip, her left hand on the bottom rim. She was poised to throw.
Having a lantern tossed at my head might be interesting. Luc had no idea if he’d burn or not. Still, he might not care for the result.Where is her rifle?
She’d never come out at night without it.
“You again. Go away, if you know what’s good for you.” Grace threw him a glare, but somehow it didn’t mar her pretty face.
He stopped and raised his palms. “You didn’t bring your rifle. The Bayou is full of dangers, better to protect yourself.”
“I can take care of myself.”
When Luc made no move, she lowered the lantern to her side. The wary surprise he’d sensed from her at his noisy approach faded like a bayou mist, though an undercurrent of alarm remained.
“What brings you to disturb my solitude again, Mr. Flynn?” Her tone implied she’d prefer to welcome a viper. She spat his name like an insult. Grace held her face carefully blank, attempting to hide her rage and panic.
For some reason, he wanted to smile but not while she was so afraid of him. He wished she wasn’t.
Most people would find her an enigma, but decades of honing his ephemeral perceptions allowed him to sense what others could not. She still grieved her aunt’s loss. Fear and anger mixed with that natural sorrow. The dark emotions kept her from feeling anything else. Why, he could not fathom—not yet. Whatever it was caused her great mental anguish.
Grace looked away, toward the bayou, and her countenance relaxed. A wistful smile formed. The expression softened her features, making her almost beautiful. The pain he’d sensed remained, but less sharply as she focused her energy outward. “Sarah spoke of her niece often, with great pride. You must be Grace.”
