Charon's Crossing (A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel) (35 page)

"Not everyone can see him."

"The spook?"

"The ghost," she said, folding her arms.

"No," Jason said with solemnity, "of course not." He leaned back against the counter and took a sip of his coffee. "What is he, anyway? Wait. Don't tell me. He's a pirate. They were big in these waters, weren't they?"

"He was a privateer."

Jason laughed. "Sorry. Fine distinctions are important in these things, I suppose."

"It isn't a fine distinction," Matthew said in clipped tones.

"It isn't a fine distinction," Kathryn said, and frowned. "I mean, a pirate was a pirate. But a privateer was legitimate."

Matthew chuckled. "Some were. Some were like me, who wouldn't have known their fathers if they'd tripped over them."

"This privateer," Kathryn said, ignoring him, "sailed for the British just before the War of 1812. He captured french merchant ships carrying contraband."

"Yes," Matthew said lazily. "And he was damned good at it, too."

He materialized suddenly, standing on the far side of the room, leaning back against the wall in that nonchalant, arrogant posture that never failed to set Kathryn's teeth on edge, his arms folded, his feet crossed at the ankle. His hair was loose, hanging like thick, shining silk to his shoulders and his shirt was open halfway down his chest.

Had a man ever looked more dangerous, or more sexy?

Kathryn hated herself for the disloyal thought. She moved closer to Jason and deliberately took hold of his hand.

"The thing is, what am I going to do about it?"

Jason smiled and lifted her hand to his lips. "Nothing," he said, kissing her knuckles.

"Nothing? Don't be silly, Jason. I have to do something."

"For instance?"

"Well... well, for instance, how am I going to sell this place? You just said yourself, it was going to be hard enough but now, if people know there's a ghost..."

"Kathryn, darling, just listen to yourself." Jason smiled tenderly and enfolded her hand in both of his. "You almost sound as if you believe in this local nonsense."

Matthew laughed.

"It isn't nonsense," Kathryn said stiffly.

"What should we call it, then? Superstition?"

"It isn't superstition, either. This ghost is—"

"Be careful of what you say, madam. He's not going to believe you."

"This ghost is real," Kathryn blurted.

"To the locals, yes. But any intelligent person from outside will—"

"He's real, I tell you! I've—"

"Kathryn," Matthew warned, "tread carefully."

"You've what, darling?" Jason asked.

"I've... I've..."

Kathryn hesitated. Jason wasn't laughing anymore, or even smiling. He was looking at her with a cautionary gleam in his eye, and suddenly she thought of every movie she'd ever sat through where the unfortunate heroine tells the hero that she's seen something that clanks or rattles or goes "boo" in the dark.

"I've... I've spoken with several intelligent people about this ghost," she said. "And they believe in him, too."

Matthew gave a long, low whistle. "Good girl."

Jason laughed with relief. "Boy, for a minute there you really had me going. I was afraid you were going to insist you'd seen the spook yourself." He grinned. "I was already planning on the best way to whisk you off to the nearest shrink."

"Shrink?" Matthew said.

"Head doctor," Kathryn snapped. Damn, why did he have to be right?

"Yes," Jason said, patting her hand. "Could you have blamed me?"

"I suppose not," she said, withdrawing her hand from his and tucking it into her pocket.

"Poor darling," Jason said, "no wonder your nerves are shot." He looped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. "What an awful thing to have had to deal with all on your own."

Matthew sighed, lifted his hand and carefully scrutinized his fingernails.

"Here comes the reassurance."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Jason put his knuckle under her chin and lifted her head. "I'd have told you there's not a thing to worry about."

Kathryn disengaged herself from his encircling arm.

"There isn't?" she said stiffly.

"No, of course not. This place may be a wreck—"

"I wish you wouldn't keep saying that, Jason. I know it's a wreck but it's my wreck..." She frowned. "Never mind. What were you going to say?"

"Only that now that I've seen Charon's Crossing, I think you may not have as difficult a time selling it as we'd thought. The house needs work, yes, but it has great appeal. Just look at its location." He walked to the window and gestured out at the endless gardens stretching out behind the terrace. "All that land in the back, the sea practically at the front door... and every room is filled with antiques."

"So, what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that you might want to get yourself a different realtor, darling, someone from the mainland with a wealthy, sophisticated clientele who can provide you with a buyer who'll be more than happy to pay for the special cachet of a haunted mansion on a tropical island." He smiled at her. "How's that sound?"

It sounded as if she might as well have saved her breath, Kathryn thought wearily. There was nothing wrong with Jason's suggestion on how she might sell the house. It was, in fact, damned clever.

But she hadn't wanted real estate ideas just now, she'd wanted Jason to listen to her.
Really
listen, instead of proving Matthew right.

"It sounds brilliant," she said, and shot a dramatic look at her watch. "Oh, just look at the time! When did you say your plane was leaving?"

Jason's smile wavered. "At eleven. But I thought... I mean, I'd hoped..."

She knew what he'd thought, that she'd changed her mind and would ask him to stay on for the rest of the weekend. It was what she'd thought, too, only a little while ago.

But it wasn't going to happen.

"I know," she said with a big smile, "you hoped we'd be able to have breakfast. But the time just got away from us, didn't it?"

She didn't give him a chance to answer; she snatched up the keys to the VW and her sunglasses and headed for the foyer. Matthew winked as she rushed past him but Kathryn never paused.

"You'd better not be around when I get back," she hissed.

"What did you say, darling?" Jason asked as he retrieved his overnight bag from where he'd left it in the foyer.

"Nothing," Kathryn said through her teeth. "Absolutely nothing."

* * *

They drove to the airport in her rented VW.

Jason kept up a line of pleasant, meaningless chatter. Kathryn didn't have to do anything except nod from time to time or say an occasional, "Really," which was a good thing because she couldn't get herself to concentrate on anything but what a total fiasco Matthew was making out of her life.

Jason was really a nice man. He was of her world and of her time, and he had never treated her with anything but kindness and affection. She knew what a stickler he was for routine, that he always planned his schedule well in advance so that there was no chance anything would remain undone, yet he'd flown down here on the spur of the moment, just to be with her.

And how had she thanked him?

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

By behaving like a jerk, that was how. By slugging him when he'd tried to show her some affection. By dismissing his perfectly logical ideas about how to sell Charon's Crossing. As for his reaction to what she'd said about ghosts...

Be honest, Kathryn, if somebody told you they'd been talking to a ghost, what would you do?

She'd do exactly what Jason had done, of course, take it all as a joke or else wonder if the person were going around the bend...

Unless someone as helpful as Matthew were standing by, all too ready to try and confuse you more than you already were.

She glanced at Jason, who was in the middle of a complicated joke about a pair of computers, a cable, and | malfunctioning fax modem.

Why was she taking him to the airport?

Why was she letting him leave?

Only because Matthew had taunted her into it, that was why.

"Jason," she said, interrupting him in the middle of the not very funny punchline, and then she frowned.

No. It was better to let him fly back to New York. That would leave the field clear for her to go back to Charon's Crossing and tell Captain Matthew McDowell just what she thought of him.

Then she'd phone Olive, tell her what she should have told her right away, that when Amos decided to come wandering back to Elizabeth Island he could damn well phone her for authorization on each and every thing Hiram thought needed fixing. Then she'd pack, get on a plane even if she had to charter one, and put this whole disaster of a week behind her.

"Yes, Kathryn?"

She shook her head, smiled with all her teeth, and stomped down on the gas.

"Nothing," she said. "Absolutely nothing."

* * *

By the time they reached the airport, the VW was almost flying.

Kathryn stood on the brakes and tried not to wince as the little car bucked and stalled because she hadn't remembered to disengage the clutch and take it out of gear.

"Here we are," she said.

Jason heaved a sigh of relief. "Right. And in one piece." A small, propeller-driven aircraft was standing on the runway. He looked at it and laughed. "That must be my flight. I hope the rubber band is big enough."

Kathryn laughed, too. "Yeah, but you're lucky. You get to fly with a load of mail. I flew in with pigs and chickens for company."

He took his valise out of the back seat and they made their way through the knee-high grass. Butterflies and tiny birds fluttered up ahead of them. When they were a few yards from the plane, Jason put down his bag.

"I'm sorry this visit didn't work out," he said softly.

Kathryn sighed. "Me, too."

"Kathryn?" Dark tendrils of hair had come loose around her face. He reached out and took one between his fingers. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

She smiled and clasped his hand in hers. "You were right," she said. "My nerves are as tight as guitar strings. I'm better off just being by myself down here. That way, I can roil up my sleeves and finish what needs finishing."

"Cleaning Charon's Crossing?"

"Among other things."

He smiled, brought her hand to his mouth, and kissed the wrist.

"Don't work too hard, okay?"

"I won't."

"You'll remember about Miami?"

For a second, she looked at him blankly. Then she caught her lip between her teeth.

"The conference, you mean."

"Right. You're going to meet me, remember?"

"Uh huh."

"Promise?"

She smiled and held up her right hand in a three-finger salute.

"Scout's oath," she said. "I'll be there, I swear."

Jason's smile slipped from his face. He clasped her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes.

"Are you sure you're okay?" His fingers massaged her shoulders. "I've had this feeling, ever since yesterday, that there's something you're not telling me."

She stiffened a little and almost said, well, I tried to tell you...

But she didn't.

"Only about the house being haunted," she said briskly.

He grinned and tipped her chin up with one finger.

"Yeah."

A sudden gust of wind swept over the airstrip. Kathryn put her hand to her hair to keep it from whipping loose from its knot.

"Have a safe flight, Jason."

He nodded. Then he bent and kissed her gently on the mouth.

"I'll see you in two weeks."

She smiled and laid her hand against his cheek. "You bet you will."

The sudden sputter of the plane's engine roared into the silence. A man in a leather bomber jacket scooted around its tail. He pointed at Jason, then at the plane. Jason nodded and picked up his overnight case. He kissed Kathryn again, turned and trotted towards the plane. Halfway there, he stopped, waved, and said something.

Kathryn shook her head. "I can't hear you."

Jason repeated the words, mouthing them with slow exaggeration.

She shook her head again, smiled, and flung her arms into the air.

"I still can't hear you," she shouted.

He grinned, shrugged, and climbed into the plane. The door shut, and the little craft began taxiing down the runway.

Kathryn sighed. She walked back to the VW, got inside, and slouched down in her seat.

She knew what Jason had been saying.

"I love you, Kathryn."

So, why hadn't she been able to say it in return?