The Thunderstorm
Belle
BELLE STARED OUT THE WINDOW of Jack’s study, both her hands resting on her baby bump.
The white-capped waves were rolling out as far as the eye could see and the wind had picked up. Even though there were only fluffy, white clouds in the sky, Belle knew from ten years of living in England, five of those in Cornwall, that the weather was going to turn.
Jack had gone somewhere. He told her he’d return shortly but didn’t tell her where he was going.
Belle only hoped it wasn’t to break his mother’s fingers though she couldn’t imagine Jack would do that even though he sounded like he very much wanted to.
She was contemplating how she felt about her day with Jack (indeed, her last three days with Jack) and everything that had happened.
In other words, she was trying to figure out how she felt about the fact that Jack clearly didn’t dislike her frequent, quiet reveries. This was something Calvin hated and thought was weird and shared these thoughts frequently. Frequently enough for Belle to stop doing it when he was around.
In fact, Jack seemed not only to accept them but, on some strange level, enjoy them. After Calvin’s persistent avowals of hatred for them, Belle couldn’t believe this was true. Nevertheless, the more she fell into them around Jack, the more she sensed Jack’s contentment when they happened.
She was also trying to figure out how she felt about Jack hiring a shop assistant for her, driving her to work and spending a day in her store not because he wanted to but because (she was certain) he was protecting her from the media.
This was beyond nice, polite, simply-protecting-the-mother-of-my-unborn-child thoughtfulness. It was something else, something more.
Much more.
Additionally, she was trying to figure out how she felt about the fact that it was very clear . . .
No.
It was vehemently clear that Jack was thrilled he had fathered a child during a one night stand. Belle thought that was every man’s worst nightmare.
Not Jack’s.
But further, he seemed just as thrilled (if not more so) that he’d fathered that child through Belle.
Most men would not be thrilled about this in any way, shape or form.
Jack seemed delighted.
Belle found this weird though, she had to admit, it also made her secretly happy. Not only for herself but also for their child.
And she was trying to figure out what Jack meant when he told her she’d meet his PA, Olive, saying this in a way that inferred Belle would be around for a while. Not the while it would take for her successfully to birth their child but the kind of while that said she’d not only meet Olive, she’d get to know her.
Which would mean Belle would be a fixture in Jack’s life and not the kind of fixture that he’d see when dropping off their son at her cottage or picking him up or speaking with her on the phone to discuss his grades.
A different, extremely more fixed, fixture.
She was also trying to figure out how she felt about the fact that she was letting him sleep with her and she’d allowed him to do the delicious things he’d done to her on the couch.
But mostly, she was trying to figure out how she felt about him not thinking she was the brazen hussy she thought she was behaving like but instead that he was a “very lucky man” that she behaved this way with him.
The memory of him saying that (and calling her “my love” while doing it), made her scalp tingle and her belly curl in a way that was nearly (but not quite) as nice as the amazing orgasm he’d given her. Something which didn’t embarrass her in the least (well, not after he’d said the things he’d said and held her so tenderly after she’d had it).
She was further trying to figure out how she felt about living in a haunted castle. Something that seriously weirded her out but something she seemed to be able to do (with Jack around, that was).
And, lastly, Belle was trying to figure out what her next move was.
She could either trust Jack would keep her safe and believe in all the things he was saying, not to mention the way he was behaving.
Or she could flee to the wilds of South America and live in a tree house in the rainforest.
She was coming to no conclusions, but considering the many dramas that seemed to befall her moment to moment and thus befall the baby she was carrying, she felt it important to reassure her child.
So she pressed her hands closer to her belly, looked down and said, with more hope than certainty, “Okay, sweets, it all seems very crazy right now, there’s a lot happening but I promise it won’t be like this forever. It’ll calm down and life will be normal and boring.”
On her last word, her body gave a small jolt and her head came up as she felt Jack behind her.
His arms went around her, one hand joining hers at her belly, his other arm wrapping around her upper chest to pull her against his tall, hard body.
She was so engrossed in her thoughts she hadn’t heard him approach and was completely still when his mouth went to her ear and he said low, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to start lying to our child at this early stage. With your mother and grandmother, I doubt things will ever be normal and boring.”
Belle turned her head to look at him, he lifted his own and their eyes caught.
“Your mother isn’t exactly sedate and unassuming,” Belle reminded him with no disapproval in her tone whatsoever.
Jack grinned and Belle’s belly did a flip.
“This is true,” he agreed good-naturedly.
As if to prove this fact to them, Joy swept into the room, a bottle of tequila held aloft, announcing grandly, “I’ve got the tequila!”
Jack and Belle shifted slightly to watch her entrance.
Though Jack turned them, he hadn’t let Belle go.
Joy slammed the bottle down on the coffee table, straightened and looked at the couple in the window.
Her eyes did a sweep of them, they got bright then she went on, “I’ve called Yasmin. She says she’s dropping everything and will be here in ten minutes. That was five minutes ago.”
“Mum,” Jack’s voice was low and rumbly. Not the happy shiver causing low and rumbly but the oh so scary low and rumbly.
Joy ignored him. “I’ve ordered a late lunch to be brought in so we can all have a bite to eat while we’re chatting.”
“This isn’t a party,” Jack informed his mother, turning Belle fully to face Joy but still not letting her go. His hand moved from her belly and both arms wrapped around Belle’s upper chest, keeping her back close to the heat of his front.
She’d never been held that way in her life.
It felt nice.
So nice, of their own volition, her hands lifted to curve her fingers around one of his strong forearms and she held on.
“With a little effort, anything can be made into a party,” Joy replied breezily, her eyes dropped to Jack’s arms and Belle’s hands and she continued in a softer voice, “And these days, it seems we have more and more to celebrate.”
Before Belle could process this statement, Yasmin stormed in and Belle stared.
She looked entirely normal except for the fact that she was barefoot, there were toe separators between her toes and three toes on her left foot had not been coated with the bright, iridescent tangerine the others sported.
She looked around and then her eyes locked on Joy. “Did I miss it?”
“No, darling, you didn’t miss it,” Joy assured her, her eyes on Yasmin’s toes. “Did I catch you in the middle of a pedicure?”
Yasmin walked into the room, toes curled to the ceiling, her gaze moving to Jack and Belle. “I dropped everything and got in the car. I think I may have broken the land speed record to get here.” She looked to Belle. “I’ve been waiting years to see Myrtle and Lewis. If they’re appearing more often, I’m considering moving in.”
Belle began to wonder if maybe Yasmin wasn’t a little mad too but she didn’t get to process this either.
Suddenly, Yasmin rocked back on her heels, her arms crossed on her chest and she grinned a mischievous grin. “You two look cozy. We know we’ll soon be hearing the pitter-patter of little feet but are we expecting wedding bells too?”
Belle’s body went statue still.
So did Jack’s.
Belle wanted to run from the room, from the castle, maybe even find a spaceship and ask the astronauts to take her to the moon.
Jack, as if sensing this, tensed his arms.
“Yasmin,” he said in that oh so scary low and rumbly voice that was even more oh so scary than ever before.
“What?” Yasmin asked with feigned innocence, her grin never slipping. “I need to be prepared. I have to have an outfit and a big hat. Huge,” she emphasized. “The hat has to be enormous.” Her gaze shifted to Belle. “Do you design hats?”
“No,” Belle replied in a small voice.
“You should,” Yasmin told her. “I bet you’d be good at it.”
Before any more could be said, Gram and Mom entered the room and, not surprisingly, they did it far more flamboyantly than either Joy or Yasmin.
Or at least Mom did.
“You!” Mom shouted, clearly in a state, her hand up, finger pointing at Jack then she demanded, “How dare you move my daughter into a haunted castle?”
“Oh dear,” Joy muttered.
“Oh dear is right,” Mom yelled at Joy. “I do not believe this. Ghosts. Creepy child ghosts. See-through creepy child ghosts.” Her eyes shifted to Jack and she screeched, “Child ghosts! Everyone knows nothing is creepier than child ghosts!”
Although Belle found nothing whatsoever funny about the current moment, Jack, of course, did. She knew this because she not only heard his chuckle but she felt his body shaking with laughter.
“This is not funny!” Rachel shrieked.
“Rachel Leonora, calm down,” Gram demanded.
Mom turned on Gram. “I will not calm down. We’re moving out, this instant.”
“You’re not moving out,” Jack stated, all humor gone from his voice, and Mom whirled back to him.
She opened her mouth to speak then she stopped and her eyes moved over Jack and Belle. They rested on Jack’s arms and Belle’s hands then they lifted to Belle’s face.
And they narrowed.
Belle didn’t know why they narrowed. All she knew, through a vast amount of experience, was this was not good.
“Oh my God!” Rachel shouted. “You two have been fooling around!”
Belle’s body gave a surprised jerk as she felt Jack’s go solid behind her.
Mom wasn’t finished.
“You’re fooling around with my daughter while there are ghosts in the house!” she accused Jack as if this was an act akin to rounding up innocent citizens randomly in order to torture them just for kicks. Then, bizarrely, she backtracked, “Not that I frown on fooling around, because, you know, everyone needs a bit of nookie. Especially on a Sunday afternoon.” Mom turned to Yasmin and shared, “Best time of the week, Sunday afternoon.”
Mortified beyond any mortification Belle had felt in her life (and that was saying something), Belle found her voice and snapped, “Mom! Shut up!”
Her mother looked back at Belle. “I’m just saying.”
Lila started laughing, Joy was biting her lip and Yasmin was grinning ear to ear but, although she couldn’t see Jack, Belle knew he was done.
She knew this because, in his oh so scary low and rumbly voice, he declared, “Enough.”
Belle saw Mom’s body give a small twitch and her eyes went to Jack.
Jack went on and she realized he was not just done, he was done and he was angry.
“Rachel, enough,” Jack repeated, the words vibrating with fury. “I cannot imagine, since you bore and raised Belle, that you and your mother have no idea how much you embarrass her. You are who you are and you behave as you behave, which is a credit to you both as you clearly don’t give a damn what people think of you and that’s commendable. Further, your behavior is mostly interesting and often quite humorous. That said, from this point forward, you’ll consider your daughter’s feelings and control it when it might cause her discomfort.”
While Jack was making this speech, Mom’s mouth had dropped open as had Gram’s but Jack wasn’t quite done.
“Am I understood?” he asked.
“See here—” Gram snapped, moving forward.
Jack’s arms tensed on Belle’s chest and he leaned forward, only slightly, but very threateningly (she didn’t see it, she felt it), taking Belle with him and Gram halted.
“Am I understood?” he demanded, his tone so far past low and rumbly, it was not funny.
“She’s my daughter,” Mom noted in a far quieter tone.
“She is,” Jack replied, his voice less menacing. “But there’s a time to discuss personal things and Belle isn’t comfortable doing it with an audience. I’m simply asking that you consider her feelings. Something I’m sure you’ll have every desire to do.”
Belle decided it was time to intervene and she looked up at Jack’s jaw.
“I really don’t mind,” she lied softly.
Jack moved back a few inches so he could catch her eyes.
“You do, poppet. I feel it, I see it but you’re too kind to say it.”
He was right.
“Is this true?” Mom asked, and Belle looked at her as Jack shifted to her side, his arm around her waist keeping her close.
“Kind of,” Belle answered.
“Honeypot, you should have said something,” Mom said softly.
Belle shrugged, about as comfortable having this conversation as she was when her mom was announcing to everyone that she and Jack had been fooling around (okay, so she was more comfortable with this conversation, but still).
Jack, somehow, felt that too and announced, “We’re moving on.”
Then Jack led Belle toward the couch and Belle saw Gram was studying Jack, a thoughtful look on her face, but there was a smile playing about her lips.
Belle thought this was slightly more ominous than Jack’s tone earlier (and this was also saying something) but she decided to ignore it.
She had other things to worry about.
Lots of them.
Jack sat in the corner of the couch bringing Belle down by his side. His arm curved around her shoulders and he tucked her body into his.
The others settled too. Mom and Yasmin dragging chairs across the room and, Belle noticed belatedly, one of the chairs from in front of Jack’s desk somewhere between her falling asleep and waking up had been angled toward the couch.
Belle had no time to question this. Joy sat on the opposite end of the couch to Jack and Belle and Jack spoke.
“Lila tells us you drink tequila,” Jack said to Mom, and Mom looked at him.
“I drink everything,” she replied honestly.
“I recommend you take something to calm your nerves,” Jack suggested. “At Lila’s advice, Mum has brought tequila.”
“Oo, I love tequila, especially at two o’clock in the afternoon. I’ll get the glasses,” Yasmin offered, jumped up and walked to a standing chest, the top of which she opened and there unfolded a veritable bar, including decanters filled with different colored liquors and shiny, expensive-looking glasses of all shapes and sizes.
“Cool,” Belle whispered and felt Jack’s fingers give her shoulder a squeeze.
She decided not to look at him.
He would probably be smiling at her, which would make her scalp tingle or her belly dip, and Belle was pretty sure she’d had her quota of both of those for one day (in spades).
As Yasmin was pouring tequilas all around, though she poured something else for Joy, Jack declined and Belle, obviously, couldn’t partake, Elaine came in. She was rolling a tray filled with sandwiches, bowls of potato chips, another bowl of salad, small glass pitchers filled with dressing, a large glass pitcher filled with iced water, a teapot, a coffeepot and a tray of cakes.
Belle was slowly but uncomfortably getting used to being waited on hand and foot. It made her feel weird especially when she went back to her room after breakfast to find her bed made, her dirty clothes carried away (only to be returned, cleaned and, if needed, pressed) and quite often fresh towels in her bathroom.
She had thought of talking to Jack about it.
Then she thought better of it and kept her peace.
They all dug into the food and drank their beverages and things calmed down considerably as partaking of food and beverages was wont to achieve.
Once Joy’s plate was clean, Jack ordered, “Mum, tell the story.” He paused, Joy opened her mouth to speak and Jack went on, “No embellishments.”
“The embellishments are the best part!” Yasmin protested.
“No embellishments,” Jack asserted.
“I don’t think I can do it without the embellishments,” Joy told Jack.
“Yes you can,” Jack told Joy.
“It’ll be boring,” Yasmin told Jack.
“Precisely,” Jack told Yasmin.
“Will someone please tell us something?” Lila demanded. “The weather is turning and I want to get to the hayloft to take some snapshots of The Point during a thunderstorm, if we get one, which it looks like we will.”
Everyone looked to the windows and saw that the sun was struggling against the thickening cloud cover. The clouds were no longer white but a threatening dark gray.
Belle loved sun and she loved snow and she loved rain, but she especially loved thunderstorms.
She always had.
Belle so loved them, Lila always did one landscape in each series she painted during a thunderstorm or a fierce downpour. These she never sold but gave to Belle and most of them hung at the cottage while some of them Gram and Mom carted around from place to place because Belle’s cottage wasn’t that big.
They were even more famous than her other works because their existence was known but they weren’t sold, never viewed and, therefore, had acquired a mystique.
No one knew she painted them for Belle and no one knew Belle had most of them. Therefore no one knew they were, by far and away (in Belle’s mind), her grandmother’s best work.
Something emanating from Jack captured Belle’s attention and her eyes moved to him.
She saw he was studying her grandmother contemplatively. Belle remembered that he owned one of her pieces and he likely was interested in her grandmother’s remark.
It was then Belle decided she’d show him the pictures. She never showed them to anyone, unless her friends came to the cottage, and most of her friends had no idea they were in the presence of famous but secret masterpieces and Belle didn’t tell them.
Jack, Belle guessed, would know.
And Jack, Belle guessed again, would appreciate the opportunity of a viewing.
“All right then, I’ll try to tell it with no embellishment,” Joy said, not sounding at all happy and pulling at Belle’s attention.
Belle looked from Jack to Jack’s mother as she began.
“Over two hundred years ago, I think it was 1798, or something like that, the master of this castle was named Joshua Bennett,” Joy started. “He was known to be very clever, somewhat forbidding, quite accomplished, shockingly handsome and a complete womanizer.”
“Is this necessary to the story?” Jack asked, though it wasn’t a question, as such, more a demand for his mother to move along to the important stuff.
“I have to give the back story,” Joy protested.
“No you don’t,” Jack retorted.
“The back story is the best part!” Yasmin repeated (almost) her words of minutes before.
Jack’s gaze swung to her and she clamped her mouth shut under the heat of it.
“I’m giving the back story,” Joy declared mutinously. Jack shook his head with frustration and Joy carried on, “Meanwhile, living in the village, was a woman named Brenna Addison. Brenna was known to be very sweet and very pretty but also quite quiet. Brenna had made a bad marriage. Not that her husband wasn’t well-to-do, he was a wealthy merchant, but that he didn’t treat her very well.”
“What do you mean, he didn’t treat her very well?” Rachel asked.
“He beat her, and you have to know it had to be bad because that was likely very hush-hush at the time and probably not entirely frowned upon but everyone knows it happened. It’s an integral part of the story,” Joy answered, throwing an obstinate glare at Jack as if daring him to challenge this fact.
Jack stayed silent and Mom and Gram’s eyes moved to Belle.
She didn’t see them. She felt them but she ignored them and kept her own gaze glued to Joy who continued telling the story.
“Brenna and Joshua didn’t meet until after Brenna’s husband had taken some voyage and his ship had wrecked. Everyone assumed he was dead. The story goes that no one was sad to hear it because Brenna was a lovely girl and everyone in the village liked her,” Joy recounted. “Joshua and Brenna did meet, however, at a ball in the drawing room of this very castle. They say they fell in love the minute their eyes met and they were virtually inseparable from that moment on. Within mere months of meeting, they were married and quickly thereafter had two children, Lewis first, then Myrtle. Lewis was the vision of Joshua, Myrtle the exact same of Brenna. They were all very happy, Joshua settled down, Brenna blossomed under his devotion and the children grew up in a house of love.”
Yasmin moved, lifting her feet up to the edge of the chair, wrapping her arms around her calves and resting her chin on her knees, obviously settling in for the good part.
Belle felt a tiny shiver slide through her because she suspected, since the child ghosts were, firstly children and secondly, ghosts, the good part was really the bad part.
Joy went on with the story.
“The problem was, Caleb Caldwell, Brenna’s first husband, had not died in the shipwreck. He survived. Without his health then, after he recovered, without any money or papers and being a long, long way away, it took him years to get home, but he finally did. Needless to say, he was not happy to find that his wife had married another in his absence and bore him two children. They say what made him even more incensed was that Brenna was happy, delightfully happy with her new family, far happier than she ever was with him.”
Joy drew in a breath and continued.
“He didn’t look himself, older, thinner and with significant scars, no one recognized him. He came back to the village and learned what he learned but he never shared who he was. Instead, he plotted against Joshua, Brenna and their children.”
“I don’t think I like this,” Belle whispered and realized she was pressing herself into Jack’s side and his arm was tighter around her shoulders.
Even though she realized this and normally she would move away, she absolutely did not even consider such an action.
Instead, she too, lifted her feet so her heels were in the couch and dropped her knees so her legs were resting on Jack’s thigh. She turned into him and put one arm around his stomach, the other one she burrowed so it could wrap around his back. Then she put her cheek on his shoulder and held on.
As she was doing this, Jack gave her a squeeze and said softly, “Poppet, it’s just a story. It’s a sad one but it happened a long time ago.”
Belle nodded against his shoulder even though she didn’t feel the least bit better at what he said.
“I’ll hurry through the sad part, darling,” Joy assured her and then, as promised, swiftly went on, “Obviously, he killed them. He waited until Joshua was away on some business trip, he snuck into the castle, suffocated the children in their beds, dragged Brenna to the cliffs and threw her into the sea.”
“Oh my God,” Rachel breathed.
At the same time Belle whispered, “Oh my goodness gracious.”
At the same time Lila murmured, “That jackass.”
Joy continued.
“Joshua returned, learned his family was dead and he went mad, as anyone would. He stopped at nothing until he hunted down Caldwell. He brought him back, Caldwell was tried, found guilty and they strung him up,” Joy told them then looked at Belle. “It doesn’t have a happy ending for Brenna, Lewis and Myrtle but Joshua did find love again. He remarried and had three more children. Though,” her eyes moved away from Belle, “they say he was never again as happy as he was with Brenna.”
“You skipped over the part where Joshua found Caleb, played with him a little while, until Caleb was mad as a hatter then Joshua got sick of the game, ended up beating the crap out of Caleb and then brought him back barely alive,” Yasmin informed Joy and looked at Mom. “That’s one of my favorite parts.”
“I can see why,” Mom muttered.
Belle ignored this exchange and asked Joy, “The children have been haunting the castle ever since?”
Joy gave Belle a small smile. “Yes, my dear, ever since. But, most important for you to know, until they were murdered, they lived here happily. And they live here happily now. They spend their days playing, probably just like they did when they were alive. They’ve never done anything mean or that first thing to harm anyone. They’ve even had some mortal friends along the way who they’ve talked to a little bit.”
“This is where the story gets good,” Yasmin told them happily, apparently unaware that she’d given away the fact that she thought every bit of the story was good.
“They talked to people?” Belle asked.
“Oh yes, not many, but they did it,” Joy answered.
“What did they say?” Lila inquired.
Belle felt Jack’s body still against hers and Joy’s eyes moved to her son.
She bit her lip nervously, Belle did not read this as a good sign and then Joy’s gaze swung to Gram. “They’d just tell stories of the masters and the mistresses of the castle.”
“They’d do more than that,” Yasmin put in. “They explained what had to happen to release them.”
“Really?” Mom asked, leaning forward.
“I think that’s enough,” Jack interrupted. He gave Belle another squeeze and she looked up at him. “As you can see, even if they do exist, they’re nothing to worry about.”
Belle nodded, thinking of those children stuck for hundreds of years in this house without their mom or dad, and she felt that fact was even sadder than the fact that they’d been murdered.
She looked to Joy and asked, “What will release them?”
Joy’s eyes flashed to Jack before they went to Belle. “Well, they don’t exactly know.”
“But they think that their mum has to come back,” Yasmin explained. “They think that the master of this house, not any master, but one that’s exactly like their father, has to fall in love with another woman, who’s exactly like their mother. Once that happens, something else has to happen, they aren’t sure what, and their mum will come back and sweep them away to heaven.”
As Yasmin spoke, the air in the room took a funny turn.
And not, Belle knew, a good funny.
And Belle also knew exactly why.
It was not lost on her that she shared the same initials as Brenna Addison, Jack shared the same initials as Joshua Bennett, and Calvin shared the same initials as Caleb Caldwell.
It was also not lost on her that the back story (not including the shipwreck, but instead a divorce, and not including the ball, but instead a birthday party) sounded more than a little bit familiar.
“Holy crap,” Mom breathed, her wide eyes locked on Jack and Belle.
“Rachel,” Gram said with soft warning.
“Holy crap,” Mom repeated.
“Rachel!” Gram snapped and Mom jumped.
“What?” Yasmin asked, looking between the two.
“Oh, nothing,” Lila explained. “Rachel always gets a little freaked out about ghost stories. We lived in a haunted mansion once and both Belle and Rachel were a total mess.”
“That wasn’t a haunted mansion,” Belle said, desperately latching on to something that had nothing to do with the fact that her and Jack’s story so closely resembled Brenna and Joshua’s. “You’d angered the neighbors, Gram.” Belle twisted around to look at Jack and added, “They were not very nice, by the way, wild parties at all hours and they let their dogs do not good things in our front yard and never cleaned it up. They definitely deserved Gram having a word with them.” Belle looked back to the room and carried on, “She just didn’t stop at a word and painted about twelve of them, none of them nice, on the side of their house.” She turned back to Jack. “After that, they kept playing tricks on us, nasty tricks that made Mom and I think the place was haunted.” Belle twisted back to the room and finished, “We left shortly after that.”
“You painted words on their house?” Yasmin asked Gram, grinning.
“Yep,” Gram answered.
“She not only painted them, she stayed up all night. It was practically a mural,” Mom put in. “It was awesome. Too bad they painted over it.”
“What were they?” Yasmin queried further.
Gram opened her mouth to answer but Belle got there before her and suggested, “Why don’t you share that later?”
Belle’s words said later. Belle’s face said never.
Gram threw Belle a smile and closed her mouth.
“Now that I find sad. A Cavendish mural painted over. Tragic,” Jack stated dryly and everyone burst out laughing.
Except Belle, who turned to him and smiled.
Jack smiled back.
Belle felt his smile in lots of places, the best being her heart.
“Feel better about Myrtle and Lewis, poppet?” he asked softly.
Belle nodded.
“You’ll feel safe in the castle now?” he pressed.
Belle nodded again.
He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers before he murmured, “Good.”
Then Jack’s arm wrapped around her back and he pulled her close right before Belle thought of the little ghost girl waving at her from the window.
And Belle wondered if she was the one that would help release those children and send them to heaven.
She also wondered if she’d have the courage to do whatever it was that might be required of her.
She decided that she probably wouldn’t even as she vowed to find a way.
On that thought, they heard the first roar of thunder.
It was hours later, when they were all in the dining room, the pudding dishes had been cleared away and everyone but Belle was enjoying coffee, that Belle turned her head to Jack.
“Jack,” she called softly, intending to ask if he would mind if she accompanied him on his nightly after-dinner walk with the dogs.
Jack looked at her, his beautiful green eyes gentle with inquiry.
Belle wondered if she’d ever get used to how handsome he was (especially his eyes) and she opened her mouth to speak only to be cut off by her mom.
“Bellerina, after dinner, can I have a word?”
Belle looked to her mother and saw her face was earnest. A look Belle knew she couldn’t deny no matter how much she wanted to walk with Jack and his dogs, and, she was forced to admit, she very, very much wanted to walk with Jack and his dogs.
“Of course,” Belle said to her mom and turned back to Jack to finish what she’d started but instead asking him to delay his walk a bit but Jack spoke first.
“I enjoy your company when we’re out with the dogs but I don’t want you in that weather, poppet. The path gets slippery in the rain,” Jack told her.
Belle looked to the windows. It was late evening but the day was not done as it stayed light until very late during summers in England. However, it was dark as night outside. The lightning and thunder had ceased but the rain was falling hard, heavy and steady and had been since that afternoon.
Belle’s eyes went back to Jack and she nodded.
“I won’t be long, love,” he finished on a small smile.
Belle nodded again and returned his small smile.
“Well, I’m going in search of Myrtle and Lewis. If there’s any time they’ll show themselves, it’ll be during a spooky, dark storm,” Yasmin declared, throwing down her napkin and standing.
“It was a bright, sunshiny day when I saw them,” Belle informed Yasmin.
“Same here,” Mom added.
Yasmin waved her hand in front of her face. “Matters not, everyone knows ghosts like a good storm,” she said with authority then continued. “I’m off, anyone want to join me?”
“You go on, darling, I’ll find you in a bit,” Joy said.
“You got it,” Yasmin replied and left the room.
The minute she did, Joy turned to Jack and noted quietly, “I’m concerned about her.”
Belle’s eyes slid to Jack and she saw he was watching the door Yasmin just used, his jaw was tense and his chin lifted in acknowledgement of his mother’s words.
“Why are you concerned?” Lila asked.
“She’s trying to hide it but I can tell, this latest divorce is taking its toll,” Joy answered. “Quincy is a good man and he adores her. At first I think he was confused and thought he could talk her round. That didn’t work and now he’s very angry that she’s doing this.”
Belle was surprised at this news, thus she shared, “Yasmin told me about him when she was in my shop. She didn’t make him sound like a good man.”
“Most of what she told you is likely untrue,” Jack explained and Belle’s startled eyes went to his. “Not that she’s lying but exaggerating or telling tales, not to convince you but to convince herself. Yasmin has a habit of sabotaging her happiness.”
Before Belle could respond, Joy continued, “Her first husband was a bit wild, just like Yasmin, but he loved her too. They burnt bright. Therefore, eventually they burnt out. It was probably for the best, though he too was a good man and would have done anything for her.” Joy’s eyes moved to Jack. “Yasmin has always had good taste in men. She’s just constantly throwing them away.”
Belle felt a funny, very unpleasant feeling steal through her at this reminder that Jack and Yasmin used to be an item. She’d been informed of that upon meeting them but it hadn’t crossed her mind since. Mainly because Yasmin didn’t act like an ex-girlfriend but like an adopted sister-daughter.
Her mind moved to Yasmin opening the hidden bar cabinet and how Yasmin knew exactly where to go and what to do.
Then her mind, which often liked to torture her, moved to the couch where Jack held her, kissed her and touched her and she wondered if he’d done the same to Yasmin there.
She licked her lips and her eyes caught on her grandmother’s face.
Gram was smiling at her. It was a small smile and meant to be a reassuring one and Belle knew Gram knew her thoughts.
This small smile normally would work on Belle and had many, many times in the past.
But, at that moment, for some reason, it didn’t.
“Have you talked to her?” Mom asked, breaking Belle out of her tortured thoughts.
“She won’t listen,” Joy answered.
“Maybe you should try,” Lila suggested gently.
Joy looked to Jack. “Maybe Jack should try.” She turned fully to her son. “She’ll listen to you, darling, you know she will.”
Jack nodded and replied, “I’ll have a word.”
Joy smiled at her son and murmured, “I better go find her.”
She left the table and this heralded a mass exit, Jack stopping Belle on her way up the stairs to her mother’s room.
When she’d tipped her head to look at him, he told her, “If you want to join me in the study later, you don’t have to knock.”
With that he leaned in, brushed his lips against hers and he was gone.
She stood where he left her for a moment, still feeling his mouth against hers and wondering if his open invitation to his study meant as much to him as it did to her.
Then she turned and climbed the stairs.
Gram was in her mother’s room when she arrived and Belle knew immediately her mother didn’t want “a word.” Instead, Belle was going to get what they both referred to as a “talking to.”
She walked across the room to the windows, saying, “I’m not sure I’m up to this, guys.”
“Probably not but then again, when would you be up to finding out you were likely the conduit to release the spirits of two children bound to earth for hundreds of years, sending them straight to heaven?” Gram remarked.
Belle ignored her grandmother’s remark, looked out the window and saw the rain had stopped. She also saw Jack, Baron and Gretl heading up the cliff path. Jack was wearing a dark rain slicker, his head bare, the wind blowing his thick hair.
Jack, Belle noted, looked good from behind in his rain slicker with the wind blowing his hair. She liked the way he walked, even on the slick path, with long, confident strides, his body at his command.
“Earth to Belle, come in Belle,” Mom called, and Belle turned to see Gram at her side peering out the window.
“She’s mooning over Jack,” Gram informed Mom.
“Lots to moon over,” Mom commented. “The man’s got a fantastic behind.”
Gram turned from the window, looked at Mom and shared, “I like his hands.”
Mom grinned. “Yeah, he’s got great hands. And, from Belle’s look this afternoon, I’m guessing he knows how to use them.”
“Mom!” Belle snapped as she walked from the window and threw herself on the bed in front of her mother.
She rolled to her back and her mother leaned over her. “It’s just my way of saying I’m happy for you, honeypot.”
Belle sighed and asked, “Can we not talk about Jack’s hands?”
“Okay,” Mom agreed happily. “Let’s talk about his behind. That’s a much better subject.”
Belle rolled her eyes.
“Or his eyes. That man has unbelievable eyes,” Gram noted as she joined them on the bed. “I was convinced they were contacts when I first met him but I don’t think they are.”
“They’re not,” Belle informed her, Gram smiled and Mom giggled.
Then Gram said gently, “I think you found yourself a good one this time, my sweet.”
Belle was beginning to think her grandmother wasn’t wrong.
And this budding knowledge scared the dickens out of her.
Therefore, she broadened her limits on the evening’s subject matter. “Can we not talk about Jack, at all?”
“Sorry, baby, can’t do that. That’s why we called you in here,” Mom told her.
Belle rolled to her side and crooked her elbow, putting her head in her hand and looking at her mom who was lounged the same way as Belle. Then she looked at her Gram who was leaning back against the pillows.
“Does he know about Calvin?” Gram inquired and Belle closed her eyes, hating the idea of thinking of Calvin and Jack in the same thought.
When she opened her eyes again, she answered, “No.”
“You can’t tell him,” Mom said.
“You must tell him,” Gram said at the same time.
Mom turned to Gram and asked, “What?”
At the same time Gram turned to Mom and asked, “What are you thinking?”
“She can’t tell him,” Mom reiterated.
“Why on earth not?” Gram queried.
“Cast your mind back to this afternoon, Mom, when Jack put us both in our place,” Mom demanded. “In case you didn’t get it from that, not to mention about half a dozen other examples I could give you, Jack’s a wee bit protective of Belle. If he learns what Calvin did to her, he’ll go ballistic. He might even spontaneously combust!”
Belle winced at the idea of Jack spontaneously combusting, however, she had to admit the very idea of Jack finding out about Calvin made her heart hurt.
Not only his reaction to this knowledge but what he might think of Belle knowing she’d made the choice of Calvin in the first place and let his abuse carry on for as long as it did.
He’d think she was an idiot and worse, a coward for not putting an end to it the minute it started.
“That may be so, Rachel, but it’s clear things are moving full steam ahead with Jack and Belle, and he’s got the right to know,” Gram returned.
“Okay, I agree, just not now. We need to wait until after Belle releases the ghost children,” Mom replied.
“What?” Belle asked.
At the same time, Gram asked, “Why?”
Mom turned to Belle and declared, “Obviously, you have to release those children.”
Belle felt her lungs expand and it wasn’t a good feeling.
“Yes, that is obvious but I don’t understand why Jack needs to be kept in the dark about Calvin for her to do it,” Gram retorted before Belle had the chance to speak.
“First, if Jack knows Belle’s history, he’s going to cotton on to the fact that he shares Joshua Bennett’s characteristics just as Belle shares Brenna’s, both of them exactly. Once he understands this, do you think Jack, for one instant would allow Belle to lift even a finger to help those children?” Mom asked.
This was, unfortunately, true.
Who knew what Belle had to do to release Myrtle and Lewis?
It might be dangerous.
Jack would never agree to her doing anything dangerous.
He wouldn’t even let her take a walk on a rain slick coastal path, something she’d done hundreds of times. It was England. It was Cornwall. Rain slick coastal paths were the norm and Belle walked a lot.
“Hmm,” Gram muttered, which was her way of agreeing without actually having to agree.
Mom pressed her advantage and looked at Belle. “You can’t tell him.”
“I think,” Belle said softly. “That something is happening between Jack and me.”
Mom grinned and teased, “You think?”
Belle shook her head but went on to say, “Yes, Mom, I do. I also think it might not be a good idea to keep Jack in the dark about anything. He won’t like it.”
“Hmm,” Gram muttered again, this time more firmly non-stating her agreement.
“Not mentioning it is the same as lying to him. I kept the pregnancy from him and he wasn’t happy about it,” Belle reminded them.
“You can say that again,” Gram mumbled.
Rachel, however, was not deterred. “I saw those children today, and okay, they freaked me out. But once I knew their story, I thought about what I saw. The little girl gave me a wave and the boy was grinning at me. They seem sweet but it’s too sad for words that they’re stuck here. Something has to be done and we all know Jack will never agree to you doing it.”
This, too, was true.
“Let me think about it,” Belle suggested. “Maybe there’ll be a time when I can explain things to Jack and get him involved. Maybe I can talk him around. Maybe he’ll feel better about it if he has some control over the situation.”
“What if that time doesn’t come?” Gram asked.
Belle licked her lips and thought about the children she saw in the window.
Then she thought about the fact that they likely spent years in the castle with their still alive father. Watching him with his new family. Watching him grow old. Watching his new children thrive under his love and care. And watching him die.
And after that they were stuck here and alone with only themselves for company (and a few mortal friends along the way).
Belle looked at her Gram then her mom. “If that time doesn’t come then we go it alone.”
Gram looked uncharacteristically uncertain.
Mom smiled.
“That’s decided, we’ll get started,” Mom announced and Belle felt a feeling of foreboding.
She had no idea how to get started but she knew without a doubt that her mother had a great number of ideas.
She also knew without a doubt that Jack wouldn’t like a single one of them.
“We need to go back to Calvin,” Gram said, and both Belle and her mother looked at her.
“Why?” Mom asked, her tone sharp, something which happened quite frequently during the rare times anyone mentioned Belle’s ex-husband’s name.
Gram’s eyes went to Belle. “You’ve been getting a lot of media coverage. Now you and Jack are getting a lot. Soon, people are going to understand this is not only serious, there’s a baby on the way. They’re going to go nuts. Calvin has had to have seen this, but even if by some miracle he hasn’t, he will.”
Belle rolled to her back and pressed her fingers into her forehead.
Belle had been trying, and succeeding, in not thinking about this very thing.
She’d lived for months worried that Calvin would approach her after the news hit about what she’d done when that school bus went over the bridge.
At the time they’d been divorced for four years. She’d heard through friends he’d remarried. She hoped that he’d moved on.
But he’d been outrageously possessive when they were married. If Belle even glanced at another man, Calvin would lose it and Belle would pay the price.
Belle had fretted that the media would find out about Calvin and Belle and feed on it like everything else.
This, fortunately and miraculously, did not happen.
Then Belle had fretted that her appearance in the news would remind Calvin of her existence and he’d re-enter her life. He’d done it before, trying to win her back until he eventually gave up.
This, fortunately and also miraculously, didn’t happen either.
However, pictures of Belle and Jack kissing, Jack holding her close to his side, Jack pressing his forehead to hers, would wind Calvin up until he was out of control.
And, since it was Jack, it would be worse.
Jack was a better man than Calvin in a lot of ways (heck, in every way), many which Calvin would never know.
But the ones he would know, that Jack was richer than him, famous, more accomplished and far more handsome, would drive Calvin up the wall.
Calvin had spent years convincing Belle that she was lucky to have him, that she couldn’t dream of ever finding another man, that he’d gone slumming when he chose her.
The fact that Belle could catch the eye of a man far better than Calvin and the media rubbing his nose in it on a near day to day basis would drive Calvin over the brink.
He’d lose it and take it out on her.
Gram spoke again and Belle took her hands away from her face when she did. “You need to be careful, my sweet.”
Belle turned her head to look at her grandmother and nodded.
“It’s a good thing you’re living here and Jack’s taking you to work,” Gram stated. “Just keep your eyes peeled, and in the meantime your mother and I’ll frequent the shop. But, until you tell Jack what happened with Calvin, I don’t want you to go anywhere alone, okay?”
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
“He won’t hurt you again, honeypot,” Mom reassured. “We wouldn’t let him and now, Jack won’t.”
In her heart, Belle knew this was true.
And her heart spoke to her soul and they both came to an agreement.
It was just her mind that worked against her.
“I think Joy would tackle him and beat him senseless,” Gram commented.
“I’d hate to think what Yasmin would do,” Mom added.
“I don’t hate to think of it,” Gram grinned.
“Can we not talk about Calvin anymore?” Belle asked quietly.
Both her mother and grandmother looked at her and a miracle occurred.
For, at the same time, they agreed.
Belle sat in the window seat of her bedroom wearing a cotton nightgown in a pretty pastel plaid, a drawstring tie at the bodice forming a ruffle along the neckline and wide, ruffle-edged straps. It came down to mid-thigh, and to ward off the cold brought on by the change of weather, she’d put on a pair of thick, pink socks and pulled on a short, pink, jersey dressing gown with a wide hood.
She’d designed the nightgown and robe, a new line of clothing that she’d added to her inventory last summer that had taken off like a shot.
She had not, of course, designed the socks.
The storm had come anew, bringing with it flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder.
Belle watched it and let it clear her mind, which fortunately worked.
After her discussion with her mom and Gram, instead of going to Jack, which had been his unspoken but understood wish, she’d stayed in her mom’s room. They’d lain in bed and chatted like they’d done thousands of times before, never lacking for conversation.
She was enjoying some time alone with her mother.
But she was also avoiding Jack.
No longer because she was scared of him, it was now because she was scared of her feelings for him.
Therefore, sitting in her window in her room non-thinking, she was also avoiding her thoughts.
And thus she was startled when the door opened and she heard the jangle of dog tags.
She looked that way to see Jack’s form silhouetted in the light from the hall, Baron and Gretl forging straight toward Belle.
The light was extinguished when Jack closed the door and Belle’s mind was gripped with fear, wondering at his mood, wondering how he’d feel that she didn’t accept his invitation, wondering if he was angry with her.
Absently, she scratched both dogs’ heads while she watched Jack walk toward her.
She could barely see him, the moon was shadowed by clouds and there was no light on in her room. But she could see that he was fully clothed, though she couldn’t see what he was wearing, it looked like a long-sleeved tee and a pair of pajama pants.
Instead of shifting her and settling behind her (which she kind of hoped he’d do), she watched in frozen silence as he sat on the window seat by her bent legs.
The dogs moved to accommodate him and she heard them settle not far away.
Then his shadowed hand came out and the backs of his fingers ran the length of the side of her thigh from knee to hip, pushing her nightgown along as his fingers met it.
This made her tremble but she trembled in a different way than he normally made her tremble because this was not a sexual touch but a tender one.
“What’s on your mind, poppet?” he asked and she noted immediately he didn’t sound angry or even put out.
He sounded gentle and curious.
“Nothing,” she told him.
“Nothing?” he asked, now sounding slightly disbelieving but mostly teasing.
“The storm has cleared my head,” she explained, and she saw Jack’s head turn to look out the window. When he didn’t reply, she added, “I love thunderstorms.”
She saw him face her again and he remarked softly, “I see.” She didn’t know what he saw but he told her, “This is why Lila paints thunderstorms.”
She’d been right. He knew about the Storm Series.
Belle nodded but worried he couldn’t see her nod so she said, “Yes.”
“She loves you a great deal,” Jack remarked. “Though, I’ve noticed she hasn’t offered me any lemon drops.”
Belle felt a soft giggle float up her throat and instead of pushing it back, she let it go.
When she did, Jack moved.
But he didn’t settle in behind her.
He settled opposite her, positioning his long legs so they were cocked on either side of her, his feet against her hips.
She found something about this profound.
It was as if he sensed she needed space, and although he wasn’t willing to give it to her, he was willing to give it to her in a way that was a compromise that worked for both of them.
This settled in her heart, it settled in her soul and, finally, it settled in her mind and Belle relaxed.
She relaxed so much she shared, “She likes your hands.”
“Pardon?” Jack asked.
“Gram. She likes your hands.”
Belle could swear she saw the white of his teeth through the shadows before he muttered. “Well, that’s something.”
“Mom likes your behind,” Belle blurted.
Caught up in a moment of relaxed sharing, she didn’t think to censor her words and she felt the heat hit her cheeks, glad, for once, that Jack couldn’t see it.
“I think I could have died without learning that information,” Jack returned, and Belle instantly wished for magical powers to turn back time, but Jack’s legs pressed against hers for a moment before they relaxed. He carried on in his low and rumbly tone, “Even so, my love, there’s never anything you can’t share with me, no matter if I don’t want to hear it.”
Belle swallowed and looked out the window.
“Belle,” he called. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” she told the window.
If this was true (and, considering he’d used his low and rumbly voice, it had to be), she could tell him about Calvin and she could tell him about her desire to help Myrtle and Lewis.
It would be a risk but she had to learn to take them no matter how much they frightened her.
Not only for herself but also for their child and finally, she suspected, for Jack.
She turned to face him and announced, “I’m worried about Myrtle and Lewis.”
She felt his eyes on her, the trill went up her spine straight to her scalp but he didn’t speak for a moment.
Finally, he did.
“I guessed that would happen.”
“You did?”
“Poppet, you dove into the freezing sea to save a busload of school children. It isn’t a fantastic leap to guess you’d want to release two child ghosts to heaven,” he replied.
“It’s not the same,” she returned.
“It’s not?” he asked.
“No,” Belle answered.
“How is it not the same?”
She shook her head and looked back to the storm. “It’s just not. That day, with the school bus, I didn’t think. It wasn’t like I watched it happen and I thought, ‘Here I come to save the day.’ I didn’t think at all. If I did, I would never have done it.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and for some reason she kept sharing, “I don’t even remember most of it.”
She hadn’t spoken of this to anyone save her mom and Gram, of course, and the counsellor she had to see when she’d stopped sleeping.
Other than that, she hadn’t spoken of it.
Not once.
Even though lots of people had asked, she’d never uttered a word.
His voice had gentled considerably when he asked, “You don’t remember it?”
Belle shook her head again and kept her gaze at the window.
“I remember stopping, getting out of the car and climbing over the railing, standing at the side of the bridge, staring into the sea, watching the bus sink.”
She felt his body go still and the air in the room went instantly thick but she just kept talking.
“Then I remember diving in like it was a swimming pool, not the November sea. It was freezing cold, instantly chilled to the bone cold and I felt bits in the sea hitting my body as I swam down. I don’t even know what those bits were but I do know they scared the heck out of me.”
She gave a shudder, his legs pressed hers again, and still she kept going, thinking bizarrely that Jack needed to know this. In fact, for some reason, she thought he deserved to know it.
“I had to open my eyes and it was dark, murky. I could see the bus. The water was somewhat shallow so it wasn’t that far. Far enough to submerge the bus, though, and fast, weirdly fast. It had fallen on its side, the wrong side. The door was against the sea floor, the back doors wedged against a rock. There was air in the bus, I saw the kids banging on the windows, the bus driver frantically trying to open them.” Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper, “It was hideous, the sea felt like it was saturated with their fear.”
At this, Jack apparently had enough of giving her space.
He leaned forward, put his hands to her waist and pulled her to him, twisting her and dropping his knees so she was cradled in his lap, his arms tight around her.
When he’d settled her, she felt his heat warm her and looked up at him.
“I don’t remember anything else, Jack. Not one second of it. The kids come and see me at the shop, sometimes at my cottage. Their parents bring them. They act like I’m some kind of superhero. They bring me gifts, some of it silly stuff, like stickers. Sometimes it’s cakes their moms make. In the beginning, I didn’t remember a single face. It was like someone else had done it and I was impersonating her.”
Belle stopped talking and when Jack didn’t reply, she continued.
“Now, of course, I know them, all of them.”
“Post-traumatic stress, poppet,” he murmured, giving her a squeeze.
Belle tucked her forehead into his neck. “That’s what the counsellor said.” She moved so she could wrap her arms around his middle and whispered, “The bus driver told me,” she stopped and added, “his name is Bob, by the way, and he comes to visit me too.”
“I bet he does,” Jack muttered, and Belle kept talking as if he didn’t speak.
“Bob told me that the bus was filled with water at the end. He was the last live person I pulled out. The window he’d opened to get the kids out had filled the bus with water. He knew I was getting tired. I was too cold. I was slowing down. He was injured in the crash, dislocated his shoulder. So were some of the kids, bouncing around in that bus. Two of them were trapped. He couldn’t get them loose before I got him out. Though he tried. Nearly drowned doing it. He didn’t want me to keep going back knowing the bus had been filled, knowing those kids were trapped.” She stopped and swallowed. “But I did. I don’t remember it. I don’t know how I did it but I pulled out the dead kids.” Belle took in a shattered breath and said in a trembling voice, “Davey and Penny, they were called.”
Jack’s arms got so tight, they took her breath and he ordered, “Stop talking, Belle. Just stop.”
She squeezed her eyes tight, pushed closer to Jack’s warmth and breathed, “I don’t want to remember, Jack. Never. I never ever want to remember.”
“No one’s making you remember, poppet,” Jack said softly.
“I know,” she whispered.
“What you did was extraordinary. You couldn’t have done any more,” Jack told her.
“I know,” Belle repeated.
“Clear your mind, love,” Jack advised.
She nodded against his neck and pressed even tighter to him, feeling his arms do the same.
She took in a ragged breath and asked, “Do you think we could do anything for Myrtle and Lewis?”
She felt Jack’s body go solid under hers then it started shaking.
Her head lifted and she looked at his shadowy face.
“Jack?” she called then heard his chuckle and it was her turn to go solid. “What’s funny now?”
“Poppet, you just shared an inspirational but unbelievably terrifying story considering it was you who did what you said you did. I love that you’re the kind of person who would do something like that. What I don’t love is the thought of you giving yourself hypothermia and likely nearly drowning while saving a busload of kids, no matter how heroic. I also don’t like the trauma you have to endure when you think of it. Therefore, after witnessing that trauma less than a minute ago, I’m not overly enthusiastic that you’re willing to throw yourself into another heroic endeavor to save the souls of two nonexistent ghosts.”
She pulled away slightly and looked in the direction of his face. “I doubt it would be dangerous.”
“Belle, they don’t exist,” Jack retorted with what she could tell was waning, if amused, patience.
“I saw them. Mom saw them. Joy’s been seeing them for years!” Belle reminded him kind of loudly.
“No offense, love, but you’re a little emotional at the moment and our mothers aren’t exactly the kind of women who live lives ruled by logic and reason.”
Belle’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I saw two ghosts, ghosts many others have seen before me, because of hormones?”
She heard his chuckle again and stiffened at it again before he said, “No, I’m saying a lot has happened to you, some of it you just shared with me and that you’re willing to believe in something in order to keep your mind off something else that distresses you.”
“So, you’re saying I’m seeing ghosts because of post-traumatic stress?”
“Perhaps.”
“So what about everyone else who has seen them?”
“Poppet, the story of the murders of Joshua Bennett’s family is famous. The resultant whisperings of the ghosts of his children haunting this castle is just as well-known. You might not remember having heard them but you likely have. Myrtle and Lewis are lore in this area of Cornwall. Your mother, likely the same. My mother, definitely the same. She knew of them before she moved into the castle after she married Dad.”
Belle found she was aggravated, not shy, not retiring, not meek, nor mild but straight-out annoyed.
At Jack, who, she noted with irritation, was stubborn.
And a bit of a know-it-all.
Therefore, she asked tartly, “Okay, since they don’t exist then you won’t mind me doing . . . whatever . . . to help them on their way.”
Jack was silent a moment before he replied, “Knock yourself out, love.”
Belle smiled but Jack’s arms gave her a small shake.
“Just as long as you or your mother, who I’m assuming gave you this idea and is in on it with you, or your grandmother, who also disappeared after dinner, or Mum and Yasmin, who, if they get wind of this will want to join in, don’t put yourselves in danger.”
“We won’t put ourselves in danger,” Belle assured him, still smiling.
“I want you leading the pack,” Jack demanded. “I shudder to think what your mother would have up her sleeve.”
“Don’t worry, Jack. Mom will listen to me,” Belle kind of lied.
She might get her mother to listen to her.
She also might not.
Jack was silent another moment before he muttered, “I get the feeling I’m going to regret this.”
“Everything will be just fine,” Belle promised cheerfully.
Jack’s hand lifted and his fingers tangled in her hair.
“Can we go to bed now?” he asked, his voice dipped low and sexy and Belle’s belly did a flip.
Bed, with Jack, would be good.
Although bed, with Jack, could also be a place where things could get even more complicated.
Belle’s heart and soul were already ready for that.
Belle’s mind, however, wasn’t quite there yet.
Therefore she requested, “Can we watch the storm awhile?”
Without hesitation, something else that helped convince her mind, just not entirely, Jack shifted her so her back was no longer to the window but she was facing it.
Then he lifted his knees and she fell between them.
His arms resumed their place around her, her torso twisted, she wound her arms around Jack, placed her cheek to his chest, her lower body curled between his legs and Belle lay in the protective shell of his large frame.
Thus, they watched the storm.
The thunder had long since died, as had the lightning, but the rain slammed against the panes.
Belle relaxed in Jack’s arms, and there she fell asleep.
Lewis and Myrtle
Myrtle stood invisible in the corner of the room as her beloved Jack lifted her newly beloved Belle and carried her to bed, Jack’s dogs jumping up to follow close at his heels.
Jack rested her in bed, carefully took off her dressing gown then pulled off his shirt and Myrtle blushed but she didn’t move.
She watched Jack join Belle in bed as Gretl settled on her side, but Baron, although he lay down on his belly, watched Myrtle.
Myrtle gave the dog a friendly wave and Baron let out a gentle woof.
“Quiet, Baron,” Jack ordered softly, and instantly Baron put his jaws on his front paws but he didn’t take his blinking eyes from the girl-child ghost.
Myrtle walked backwards, melting through the wall and once through, she zoomed to where Lewis was hovering at the window in the eastern turret, watching the storm.
“Lewis, Lewis, Lewis! Belle’s going to help us!” Myrtle cried upon reaching him, grabbing his arm to give it a good shake.
Lewis turned to look at his sister.
“She can’t help us, Myrtie Mine,” he replied, using the nickname their mother had given Myrtle so many years ago. “She has to be—”
“She saved a bunch of children from drowning. I heard it. She told Jack the whole story,” Myrtle explained excitedly.
Lewis’s ghost form went still at this news.
“She’s a real-life hero,” Myrtle announced. “She’s going to find a way. I know she is. I could tell by her voice. Everyone is going to help her. Everyone but Jack, that is,” Myrtle told him then suggested brightly, “I think we should appear in front of Jack!”
Lewis rolled his ghost eyes to the ceiling then back to his sister.
“I keep telling you, no. You’re always wanting to appear in front of Jack. You wanted to appear in front of Gareth too.”
“I liked Jack’s father,” Myrtle sulked. “I don’t know why you won’t ever let us—”
“I don’t either,” Lewis explained for the millionth time. “We just can’t. I don’t know why, I just feel it. We can’t. Something will happen, something bad.” He floated closer to his sister. “Please, Myrtle, just listen to me and don’t do anything silly. If Belle wants to try, we can help her. But you have to promise me you won’t appear in front of Jack.”
Myrtle looked sullen a moment but eventually she nodded jerkily.
“Promise me, Myrtle,” Lewis pressed.
“Lewis—”
“Say it out loud.”
She crossed her arms on her chest then said waspishly, “I promise.”
If Lewis could breathe, he’d have let out a breath.
The rules were, if you promised out loud, you couldn’t break the promise, both of them knew that by heart.
Myrtle floated away in full pout.
Lewis looked out the window and decided, not for the first time and he reckoned not for the last, that he hated storms.
Especially thunderstorms.
He looked at the spot where his then new ghost self had watched through the pouring rain and booming thunder, the bad man throw his struggling, screaming, crying mother over the cliff.
His thoughts were not on his mother but the woman who reminded Lewis of her.
Belle was a real-life hero.
This was good news, for Lewis knew (though Myrtle didn’t and he hadn’t told her in all their hundreds of years together, though he didn’t know why, just like he didn’t know why they couldn’t appear in front of the masters, he just knew) that his mother, too, had saved a child from drowning in the sea.
It was one of the reasons why she was much loved in the village.
Therefore, Lewis had real hope.
And so he hoped like nothing else he’d ever hoped in his life (or his death), that the sweet, quiet, beautiful Belle could actually, truly, really help them finally go home.