Gull Harbor (2 page)

Trailing her hand along the worn banister, she climbed the staircase. Each step made a different creaking noise, reminding her of an eerie xylophone. There was a bathroom at the top of the stairs and a room to each side of the hallway.

She took a tentative step into the room to her left. Boxes and odd pieces of furniture were amassed in the corners, and a few dusty cobwebs hung from the ceiling. On the floor was a loose mound of sticks and leaves. Something about the odd pile of debris in the center of the empty room struck her as more disturbing than the chaos downstairs. Nausea bubbled up in her stomach, and she backed out of the room slowly.

Across the hallway, a more pleasant room featured a queen-sized bed, a painted wooden dresser, and a rocking chair with a nautical-themed pillow. She nodded in approval; this is where she would sleep. Peering out the back window, she admired the western edge of Mill Pond, sparkling behind the trees.

The house’s proximity to both the kettle pond and the Cape Cod National Seashore had surely been the reason the Llewellyns had sunk their meager life savings into this property. Claire silently prayed that she would succeed in ridding their home of the angry spirit that was making their life here unbearable. Mr. Llewellyn had told her that retiring to the idyllic coastal town of Gull Harbor had been their dream.

Had living here been Max’s dream as well? If so, he had never mentioned it to her. Just add it to the list of things he’d kept from her, she thought with a wry smile. It hardly mattered now. Claire tossed her shoulders back, sending up a flare of pain from her cut. She had a job to do here, she reminded herself as she hurried down the musical staircase. An important job that had absolutely nothing to do with Max. Hopefully this small town would be big enough for the two of them.

Chapter 2

She wasn’t able to avoid him for even twenty-four hours. As she sat at a table in the Gull Harbor Diner the next morning, eating breakfast and checking her e-mail, Claire saw his tall figure stride past the windows. Her breath caught, and she buried her face in her ancient laptop. A second later, the door chimes jingled, and Max entered the restaurant.

Damn. She’d had a feeling that coming here might turn out to be a bad idea. But she’d been swayed by Dan’s friendly invitation and the lure of free Wi-Fi. It had actually been wonderful, as promised, up until now. The food was delicious, and the cheerful atmosphere was a refreshing change from her creepy house.

Dan strolled up with the coffee pot. “Sorry I didn’t get much chance to talk to you earlier,” he said with a smile. “We got really busy there for a minute. But I wanted to let you know that I’m glad you could join us.”

She nodded politely, trying to hide behind his stocky frame as he refilled her mug.

“So,” he continued. “I guess you made it through the night okay?”

“I did.” She shifted her body slightly to align with his. “It was quiet.”

That was mostly true. She had heard a soft moaning at one point, but it could very well have been the wind in the trees. And when she had come downstairs in the morning, she had noticed that the two picture frames she’d set on tables had been returned to the pile, facedown. Other than that, nothing much had happened.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Actually, I have to go. Can I just have the check?”

“Would you like me to start a tab for you? Most of the regulars just settle up with me once a week.”

“Sure,” she replied absentmindedly, her gaze flicking around him to check on Max. He was sitting at the counter, chatting with another customer.

“Great! Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Maybe.” She produced a wan smile and slid her sunglasses onto her face. As soon as he turned his back to her, she stuffed her laptop in its battered case. She tucked a few wrinkled dollar bills under the napkin holder and hurried out the door.

****

“Where is she headed in such a hurry?” asked Dan as he held the coffee pot suspended over Max’s mug.

“Who?” Max answered, his gaze following Dan’s gaze toward the exit. A woman with dark, wavy hair pushed open the door and paused in the sunshine; she then turned left and walked purposefully down the sidewalk. A faint tug of recognition made his eyebrows pull together.

“Our newest resident. Claire.”

He froze, staring at the windows that looked out onto Main Street. It couldn’t have been her. The hair color was wrong. And his Claire was probably defending a client in some high-profile trial right now.

Wherever she was—and it certainly wasn’t tiny Gull Harbor—she wasn’t his Claire anymore. She most likely hated him, and he couldn’t blame her. But she didn’t know why he’d done those terrible things. And when he’d gone back to tell her…well, she had already moved on.

It was for the best. He ordered his muscles to relax, raking a hand through his hair in an effort to push the painful memories away.

Dan’s voice brought him back to the present. “Something wrong, Max? You look like you’re about to start throwing punches.”

“What? No, I’m fine. It’s just that name. I used to date a girl named Claire.”

“Hmm.” Dan’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sensing a story.”

“It’s ancient history,” Max said with a shrug. He swallowed a healthy gulp of coffee.

“Then what’s the harm in telling me?”

He blew out a frustrated breath, but a smile was pulling at the corners of his lips. “The harm is I don’t want everyone in town knowing my business.”

“Oh, I’m wounded,” Dan said, clutching his heart dramatically.

“You’ll live,” Max assured him, turning back to his breakfast.

****

Claire’s eyes snapped open in the darkness. A noise had pulled her from a fitful sleep. She held her breath, her fingers curled around the edge of the sheet.

There it was again: the creak of step. It was followed a moment later by another, and her heart jumped erratically in her chest. She eased herself up to sitting, wincing as her sunburned skin met the cold iron rungs of the headboard. All she could do was wait, so she tried to imagine a relaxing scenario. She pictured herself on the beach earlier that afternoon, pushing her toes into the frothy surf as the sun beat down on her shoulders.

The creaking footsteps ascended slowly, and she fought the primal instinct to flee. The sooner the spirit communicated with her, the sooner she could help it rest in peace. She’d taught herself to open her mind to the connection, after spending most of her childhood trying to block the terrifying messages.
Just stay focused
, she reminded herself as she pulled air deep into her lungs.

A door swung open across the hall. Muted sobbing echoed through the house, and Claire pushed herself out of bed. Adrenaline poured into her veins, but she forced herself to walk cautiously across the room. The sobs grew louder, and she padded into the hallway.

The door to the storage room slammed shut with a bang, and she scrambled backwards, a scream tearing from her lips. Her head hit the wall as she lodged herself protectively into a corner. She struggled to stay calm, rubbing her scalp with a trembling hand.

The choked cries continued, and Claire took a deep breath and approached the door again. The doorknob radiated cold, but it turned easily under her damp palm. She pushed the door open and was immediately assaulted by hideous emotions. A potent tangle of anger and fear emanated from the room, and the force of it sent her reeling backwards again. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced.

Her resolve wavered. She looked longingly at the staircase leading to the front door. Her car was sitting in the dirt driveway; she could sleep in there. It was small and cramped, but at least it wasn’t haunted.

No. Something terrible had happened here, and it was up to her to set it to rights. Cowering in her car was not an option. She took a few tentative steps forward, raising her voice above the renewed weeping.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I want to help. You just have to let me know how to do that.”

A momentary pause was her only response. The door slammed shut again, causing her heart to trip wildly. “Message received,” she said grimly, trudging back to her own room. She climbed into bed and pulled the pillow over her head to muffle the heartbreaking sobs.

She must have slept at some point, because when her eyes opened next, the room was awash in the pink glow of sunrise. Her gaze found the clock and she groaned—6:00 a.m. Rolling out of bed, she assessed the damage: sunburned skin, a bump on her head, and a scratchy scab on her shoulder. She could only blame two out of three on her invisible roommate.

Claire shuffled into the hall, pausing in front of the storage room. The door was still shut. With a determined sigh, she turned the knob and pushed it open.

It was empty, devoid of the fury of last night. Her eyes fell on the pile in the middle of the floor—dirt had been added to the mix of sticks and leaves. She pondered the possible meaning as she made her way downstairs.

The refrigerator was woefully bare. She’d bought a few staples at a store on Main Street, but the high prices had shocked her. There had to be a grocer that catered to locals tucked away somewhere; she would have to find it today.

She closed the fridge door and hunted for a coffeemaker. Control yourself, she thought as her search grew frantic. The essential appliance seemed to be missing. Images of the rich, plentiful brew at the Gull Harbor Diner played in her head.

After such a rough night, she deserved a nice breakfast. There was the risk that she would run into Max, but it was still very early. He hadn’t rolled in yesterday until about 9:00 a.m. Besides, there was no reason to hide from Max. She hadn’t done anything wrong. If anything,
he
should be hiding from her.

Decision made, she bounded up the stairs, throwing an uneasy glance toward the storage room. She slid into a simple sundress and tugged a brush through her deep red locks.

Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting at the counter of the diner, a steaming mug in her hand. She smiled as Dan delivered her fruit plate. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing,” he said with a wink. “You must have had a good night, to be here so early.”

“Sort of the opposite,” she said, settling a paper napkin on her lap.

His forehead creased with concern. “I don’t like the idea of you staying there alone. Have I mentioned that?”

She shrugged, plunging a piece of bright cantaloupe into the yogurt dip. “It’s my job.”

“I’m always hiring. Good help is hard to find.”

She nodded as he held the coffeepot over her cup. “You seem to have things under control here. But thanks, I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

“Do you like lobster?” he asked, refilling her mug.

Claire paused with her fork in the air, rewinding the conversation in her head. Somewhere along the way, her bleary mind must have missed something. “Um, yes?” she replied tentatively.

He grinned. “Great. How about I take you out for a lobster dinner tonight. My treat.”

Dan must have seen the excuse forming on her lips, because he hurried on. “It doesn’t have to be a date…it’s just a welcome to Gull Harbor. Come on, I’ll be devastated if you say no.”

The idea of a free lobster meal was tempting. And the prospect of having dinner away from that house, with someone as pleasant as Dan, was even more tempting. She chewed on her bottom lip. It couldn’t hurt to make some new friends—her current list wasn’t exactly long. When had she become such a loner? “I’d love to,” she acquiesced. “But I can’t let you pay.”

“Sure you can. It’s how I was raised. Just ask my mom’s spirit if you don’t believe me. She’ll tell you.”

She studied his face for a moment to make sure he was joking
with
her and not laughing
at
her. His hazel eyes shone with sincerity and warmth, and she allowed herself a giggle. “That’s not the way it works. Spirits come to me, on their terms. I just listen and help.”

He returned her smile without a hint of skepticism. “Then she’ll come to you. And I have no doubt she will if you don’t let me pay. I’ll pick you up at 7:00.” Armed with his coffeepot, he strode down the length of the counter before she could argue further.

Chapter 3

She gave the outdoor shower a quick peek when she returned from the beach. Lots of spiders. That didn’t bother her as much as the lack of shampoo and conditioner. She wouldn’t be bathing in there this afternoon.

Sitting on the porch steps, she dusted her feet off with a beach towel before letting herself inside. The door opened several inches before it stopped with a dull thud. She frowned, eyeing the slice of hallway suspiciously. There was no sign of what was blocking the door.

She reached her hand around the door reluctantly and felt the carved wooden leg of a chair. It was wedged between the front door and the bottom stair. “Nice,” she muttered. Retracing her steps, she returned to the backyard to enter through the kitchen.

A stool was overturned in front of the back door, but it slid easily across the faded linoleum as she pushed her way in.
Someone’s been busy
. She raised her voice, reiterating her benign intentions and her offer of help.

She had an hour to get ready for her non-date, so she hurried up the stairs after returning the chair to the dining room table. The storage room door was closed again, but she ignored it in favor of jumping in the shower. When her hair was almost dry, she stood in front of her closet and surveyed her choices, finally selecting a casual emerald-green dress that set off her eyes.

Dan rapped on the door precisely at 7:00. “You look amazing,” he said appreciatively.

“Thanks,” she replied, an unexpected heat rising in her cheeks. She stepped forward to join him on the porch, then hesitated in the doorway. “One second,” she said, returning to the great room. She cracked the window closest to the front door. “My housemate gets creative. I’ll explain in the car.”

“Have you always done this kind of thing?” Dan asked as he drove them down Mill Pond Road in the fading light.