Haunted Hope by Inés Saint (1)

 

Matt Williams took off his safety glasses and blinked hard a few times, trying to get the dust out of his eyes. What had possessed him to think he could strip the place to the studs by himself in one weekend?

He sighed, remembering. Two of his best friends, Marty Medina and Johnny Amador, had told him he’d never get it done by himself. Challenge accepted. And now there he was. It was half past one in the morning, he had an early meeting, and he was covered in sweat and dust and feeling dead tired. He also wasn’t warming up to the house. He’d bought it because it had great potential and the price had made it seem like a good investment, but it wasn’t growing on him the way he’d expected it to.

A knock on the door made him look up and frown. Who in the world could be knocking at the door of a house nobody lived in at such an hour? His lips quirked when he remembered the little boy next door telling him he’d seen Bessie White, one of the town’s most famous ghosts, banging on his door a week back. The kid’s mom had told him the boy had a wild imagination.

Matt walked to the window nearest to the door and peered out. A woman with wavy hair so black it was almost blue was standing at his door, wearing a billowy, bright white nightgown. A chill ran down his spine, and it said something about his foggy mind and bleary eyesight that for a split second, he wondered if the vision was a ghost.

He shook his head and opened the door. The woman stared up at him. There was a dazed look to her eyes and Matt took a step back, in case she was high or drunk.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

The woman tilted her head to the side and said, “You don’t look like Derek. He couldn’t grow a beard. And you don’t sound like him either.” A few tears welled up in her bright blue eyes and rolled down her pale cheeks. “Where is he? Do you know?”

Something about the profound sadness in her voice and the confusion in her eyes made Matt’s chest tighten. One moment, his heart was reaching out to her, the next, he was giving his head a quick shake, telling himself to be reasonable. Common sense kicked in, and he made a quick study of the woman to make she wasn’t holding anything that could be used as a weapon.

Next, he stepped outside and shut the door behind him, not wanting to be alone with a woman who was obviously out of it. He looked around, to make sure the whole thing wasn’t some sort of sick prank, and then focused on the stranger. Her glassy-eyed stare was still fixed on him, as if she was waiting for an answer.

“Uh—no, I don’t know where Derek is. But Ray Walker lives next door, and he knows everyone in town. I’ll give him a call and ask him to come over and help you.”

The woman shook her head. “Sheriff Walker was no help. He never found him,” she said, her voice full of despair.

Matt didn’t know what to say. He hated to wake his elderly neighbor up, but he had no choice. If the woman knew Walker, it stood to reason the retired, long-time sheriff knew her, too. “Let’s call him anyway. He can help us get you home.”

The woman looked confused. “This is our home. But you’re not Derek.” Fresh tears ran down her face, and against his better judgment, Matt reached out and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. Maybe the woman had lived there at some point, and now that she was ill, she’d come back to a place she knew.

“Don’t cry. We’ll figure this all out. I’m not Derek, but I want to help you. I promise. Why don’t you have a seat on that rocker while I call Sheriff Walker?”

The woman nodded, and to Matt’s surprise, she waddled over to the rocker, holding her back and planting her legs wide as she sat down, as if she were pregnant. Maybe the nightgown was hiding something, but as far as Matt could see, the woman was either not pregnant, or not far along enough in her pregnancy to merit waddling. For the second time that night, Matt gave his confused head a shake. He made the call, and the groggy-sounding old man became instantly alert when Matt explained the situation. Walker assured him that he’d be right over.

Matt sat down on the porch swing facing the woman. She was now rubbing her belly and singing “Somewhere over the Rainbow.” Her voice didn’t have much range, but it was sweet and melodious. When she was done, she looked over at him. “I remember now. We were going to buy the house and fix it up someday. Did we hire you? I get so tired sometimes, so tired of trying to figure out what’s wrong with Derek, that I forget things.”

Afraid to upset her, Matt ran down a list of things he could say. He decided on, “The house was bought and it’s being fixed up, yes,” because it seemed like a safe answer. In his experience, sticking close to the truth was always best.

A movement caught his eye then and he saw it was Ray Walker, sprinting awkwardly across the lawn in a short, silky, navy blue robe. When he climbed the porch steps and got a good look at the woman, the worry lines on his face cleared. “Hope,” he said with a sad smile. “I thought it might be you.”

Hope looked up. “Hello, Sheriff.” She smiled, and Matt was struck by how very beautiful she was. With her wavy, shoulder-length black hair and almond-shaped bright blue eyes, she was both conventionally pretty and femme fatale at once, like a movie star from the forties, but he’d been too anxious about her strange presence at his door to notice it before.

“Let’s call your grandmother,” Ray Walker said to her.

“Am I staying with her and not Derek?” she asked, looking confused. “Is he even home today? I swear, he’s like a parasite sometimes. Sucking all my energy…”

“We’ll find out if you’re staying with Sherry, okay?” Sheriff Walker answered, his own eyes guarded. “Why don’t you come over to my place, and we’ll give her a call.”

Hope shook her head. “No. I want to wait here. I need to supervise the renovation,” she said with a new, take-charge attitude that hadn’t been there before.

“There’s the Hope I know,” Walker said, before glancing over at Matt to make sure it was all right with him. Matt nodded, and Walker walked away to make the call in private.

Hope respectfully, but pointedly, began grilling Matt about renovation costs and materials, and he answered each and every question, too bemused by the entire situation to do anything other than submit to her inquisition.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, three older women were racing across the lawn. Matt shook his head to make sure he was seeing right. One of the older ladies was wearing revealing red lingerie, another was wearing a silver nightcap in the shape of a witch’s hat, and the third was wearing monkey pajamas along with monkey slippers. That last one called out, “Hope,” her features lined with worry. “I got here as soon as I could!”

“We fell asleep binge-watching The Walking Dead,” the woman in the witch’s cap explained. Matt grinned at that, but the irony seemed lost on everyone but him.

“Hi, Grandma, Rosa, and Ruby! Look. We did it. We bought the house. And this is the man Derek and I hired to fix the place up. It seems like he knows what he’s doing. This is…” Her nose scrunched up, and Matt quickly stood up and stuck his hand out.

“Matt Williams,” he said.

The three women took turns giving him firm handshakes and dirty looks. Hope smiled and said, “Matt Williams, this is my grandmother, Sherry Stokes”—she pointed to the woman in monkey pj’s—“and her business partners, Ruby Meriwether and Rosa Medina.” Matt nodded toward Ruby, the witch, and Rosa, the siren, in turn.

Medina. He now knew who the three women were. They owned the Gypsy Fortune Café and Bakery in downtown Spinning Hills. Rosa Medina was his friend’s grandmother, and he wondered if telling them he knew Marty would ease the suspicious looks they were sending his way.

“They’re like my second grandmas,” Hope continued. “And I got my business sense from them so stay on your toes ’cause they’ll be watching you closely now, too.”

“You bet we will,” Rosa declared in a melodious accent at odds with her scowl.

Sherry looked over at Ray Walker, Ruby, and Rosa. “Can you three escort Hope to my car? Be careful not to wake her. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Sure thing,” Walker said. “And don’t worry ’bout Matt here. He’s a good kid. Wouldn’t do your granddaughter any harm. And I’m always next door with a rifle anyhow.”

“I’m sure Matt will remember that,” Ruby answered without looking at him. There was no need to. The unnecessary message had been received, loud and clear.

To Hope, Sherry said, “You’re staying with me tonight, honey. Sheriff Walker, Rosa, and Ruby will take you to my car, and I’ll be there in a moment, okay?”

“Be careful not to wake her?” Matt repeated Sherry’s words as soon as a waddling Hope was out of earshot.

Sherry let out a sigh before eyeing him warily. It was obvious she didn’t relish having this conversation with a stranger. “Hope used to sleepwalk. It stopped when she moved out of state, but now that she’s here for an extended stay, it has started up again. She’s having a hard time believing she can’t control it. The most she’s agreed to do is wear that reflective nightgown her sister made for her, just in case. So now I’m left to call upon either your sense of honor or your sense of self-preservation, whichever is greater, to tell you that even though we’ll take new measures to keep it from happening again, if she does come back here, you are to call me or her sisters straight away. I’ll leave you our numbers. Do not take her inside with you. Keep her out here, but whatever you do, don’t wake her. Sleepwalkers tend to be disoriented when they’re awoken in the middle of an episode, and they can lash out if they’re woken up by someone they don’t know. And if you see her around during the day, don’t, under any circumstance, ever approach her as if you know her. She never remembers anything, and she won’t know you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” was all he could think of to say. Sherry gave him three phone numbers and rattled off a few more threats, while Matt tried to explain that he was only there on weekends to work on the fixer-upper he planned to move into early next year, and that he was rarely there so late. He asked Sherry one question and only because it had to do with Hope’s safety, should she come back. “Is she pregnant?”

Sherry looked stricken. “No. And please, I know I don’t know you, but I plead with you never to mention what happened here today to anybody. She’d be so hurt.”

Matt didn’t know if it was the late hour, his exhaustion, or the strange situation, but he was compelled to say something he’d never said aloud before. “I know some secrets are necessary to a person’s survival, whether physical or emotional. Please trust that I understand that and that I’ll keep everything that happened here tonight to myself.”

Sherry left, half mumbling to herself about it being time to take desperate measures. When Sheriff Walker came back up to thank him for his patience and to say goodnight, the only question Matt dared ask the reserved older man was, “Did she used to live here?”

Walker hesitated before saying, “Yes. A long time ago. And that’s all you’re getting out of me.” He then squeezed his shoulder, and said, “Goodnight, son.”

Matt nodded and bid him good night as well, but he remained where he stood for a long time, staring out into the foggy night, wondering what had happened to Hope that she was waiting for a man named Derek while rubbing her nonexistent pregnant belly.

* * *

Matt’s arms felt about ready to fall off. What had possessed him to think he could drywall the place, all by himself, in just one weekend? He sighed. Marty Medina and Johnny Amador had bet him ten measly dollars he couldn’t. And now here he was. Again.

He’d won. Or had he? It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he had anything to do anyway. He was twenty-eight and a lot of the things he used to enjoy doing, like partying the night away with friends, barhopping, and playing the field, had gotten old and stale. Fixing up the dump he’d bought had been keeping him busy. Even if he still couldn’t look at it and think of it as home.

He slid down the wall and rested his head against it, wondering if he could lift his arms enough to steer his car home. Maybe he should just close his eyes and sleep right where he was. His first night in his first home, he thought as he dozed off.

Loud banging on the front door made him open his eyes and loll his head to the side to try and see out of one of the sidelites. When he heard a sobbing woman, panic gripped him the way it hadn’t in years. He scrambled up and rushed to open the door. “What happened? Who hurt you?” The words were out of his mouth, and he was looking every which way before his thoughts could catch up.

“No one hurt me.” She gulped. “I don’t know why I’m crying!” Hope threw herself into his arms.

His still-foggy brain registered that she was unhurt and there seemed nothing else for him to do but put his arms around her and try his best to comfort her. “Shh.” He tried to soothe her, wondering if she was sleepwalking again. Probably. She was wearing reflective pajamas, she had thrown herself into a strange man’s arms, and she didn’t know why she was crying.

The next thought to register in his tired brain was that Sherry would kill him if she came upon him hugging her granddaughter. With one hand still smoothing Hope’s hair, he reached for his phone and began clumsily typing out a message to every number Sherry had given him. He’d grouped them all together immediately after the last incident. This is Matt Williams. Hope is back. She’s crying, but I didn’t do anything! 1526 Nome Court.

Hope sniffled and looked back at his phone before turning to glare at him “I’m pouring my heart out to you, and you’re texting behind my back!”

“Shh.” Matt gently put his hands on her shoulders. “It’s late. I don’t want to wake Sheriff Walker up again.” Or anyone else, for that matter. Having a woman banging at his door, crying and yelling, wouldn’t endear him to his new neighbors. But then he remembered that Hope was asleep and not fully in command of her senses. He looked out into the night, wishing he’d gotten around to reading the book he’d bought on sleepwalking. “I’m sorry. I was only letting your grandmother know you’re okay, but I was listening to you,” he said when he brought his eyes back to hers.

Hope’s shoulders slumped. “She’s worried about me. I don’t want her to worry about me. I don’t want anyone to worry about me. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure no one hurt you?” he asked, a trace of the earlier panic still with him.

Silent tears began falling down her face. “No. But I don’t know what to do. It hurts so much. And it’s getting worse,” she said in a thin, choked voice, and the pain in her eyes was so deep and so palpable, Matt drew her into his arms again, wondering how he’d gotten to a place he so studiously avoided. His life was ordinary. Utterly so. Meaningful in the areas he needed it to be, and shallow in the places he wanted it to be. But this, right now, did not feel shallow. She was hanging on to him desperately, but keeping a distance between their abdomens, as if her belly was in the way. Sherry had said she wasn’t pregnant, but apparently when she sleepwalked she thought she was. She also looked beaten down, and he remembered what she’d said last time, about Derek sucking her energy like a parasite. “It’ll be okay,” he said, as she gripped his shirt and cried into it. “It’ll get better.”

“How do you know?” she hiccupped.

He sighed, wondering if he should be saying anything at all. “When people feel beaten down, scars remain, but the wounds do heal.”

Hope began to breathe more evenly. “No one’s beaten me. I’m being ridiculous. I tell myself that all the time. That I’m weak and ridiculous.”

“No. You’re not. You’ve been beaten down emotionally, and that’s harder to recover from. Especially when you’re the one doing the beating. You’re not ridiculous, Hope. And you’re not weak. Stop beating yourself up.”

Hope looked up into his face. “How do you know? You don’t know me. At least, I don’t think you do.”

Matt studied her bright blue eyes. “I don’t know you. But there’s steel in your eyes, even when they’re filled with tears. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re a fighter.”

She sniffled again. “I am that. I’ve even heard men say I’m a ballbuster, but I’ve only busted one pair, and they belonged to an FBI agent, and I did it to put a smile on my niece’s and nephew’s faces. Grandma Sherry says I just have to open my heart up again, but I did that with a pretty open heart.”

“See?” Matt smiled, wondering if she was talking gibberish again or if there was some truth to what she was saying.

She stepped out of his arms, and her demeanor changed. She looked more like the woman who’d treated him like a lazy contractor last time. “I’m usually confident, you know,” she said. “I was just born that way. But I know some people resent it. But Derek didn’t. At least, I thought he didn’t.” She closed her eyes. “I’ll never understand.”

Just then, a white Range Rover zoomed down the street, jumped a curb, and came to a screeching halt on his sidewalk. Two blond women got out, one in a pink tank top and matching pink shorts, and the other in an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants.

“Hope!” the one in pink called out.

“Are you okay?” the second woman asked as they raced up the walkway and onto the porch. “She’s been crying!” she said and turned accusing eyes his way.

“What did you do to her?” the first blonde demanded in a voice that sounded like it belonged to a beast with horns and red eyes.

Matt felt his eyes widen. He took a step back. “Nothing. She was crying when she got here.”

“Yes, but his beard made me feel better,” Hope said on a yawn. “It’s short and well-groomed and it tickled me instead of scratching me. And he’s warm. And he’s safe. And he’s kind. I feel it.”

“Let’s get you home, Hope,” the second blonde said, shooting daggers at him. She walked away with Hope, while the one in pink rounded on him. “Why was your beard tickling my sister?” she demanded.

Matt had had it. “Listen, I texted you as soon as she got here. And not to sound unsympathetic or anything, but have you considered that having a woman I don’t even know crying and yelling and banging at my door after midnight isn’t exactly an ideal situation for me, either? I refuse to be treated like some sort of abuser when none of this is my fault. Your sister was crying in my arms before I had a chance to react. I tried to console her. That’s it. You heard her—she said I was safe and kind.”

“Yeah, well, she’s asleep,” the woman grumbled before taking in, and then blowing out, a hard breath. She then straightened, looked him the eye, and stuck out her hand. “I’m Paige Galloway, Hope’s older sister. Our younger sister, Gracie, is the one walking Hope to the car. Grandma Sherry gave you our numbers. And we put an alarm on Hope’s door so she wouldn’t get away again, but she apparently disabled it while sleepwalking. We’re going to have to think of something else now that she’s living here again. Maybe put it outside her door and have Gracie set it at night.” She shook her head. “And I’m sorry for the accusations. Grandma ran a background check on you, but those only tell you so much.”

Matt was wide awake now. “Your grandmother what?”

Paige drew her lips in, as if she’d just realized what she’d said. She backed away. “Wow. I really must be tired. It’s been a crazy couple of months, so…” She fled.

Matt paced. Thoughts of putting the house up for sale as soon as he was done fixing it up flitted through his mind. Hadn’t he told Sherry he knew a thing or two about keeping secrets? Now he regretted even saying that much. Spinning Hills was an apt name for the town. His head was spinning, and he definitely wanted to run for the hills.

* * *

 

Matt tried to find something interesting to read in the newspaper so he wouldn’t fall asleep. It wouldn’t do to have his soon-to-be neighbors see him drooling on the porch swing when daylight broke in a few hours. What had possessed him to think he could sand and re-stain the floors by himself in one weekend? He sighed. Marty Medina, Johnny Amador, and a bet. He was beginning to see a pattern.

It was now past three a.m., he was covered in English Chestnut stains, and he’d stupidly left his car keys and phone inside on the kitchen countertop, where he couldn’t get to them for another three hours without ruining the floors. All for another measly ten bucks. And bragging rights. That perked him up. Bragging rights over those two were priceless. They’d been ragging on him about how long it was taking him to fix up the place. As if he wasn’t just one man.

And as if he wasn’t regretting the purchase. He wouldn’t tell them that, though. When he’d been looking for a house to fix up they’d suggested a house in Spinning Hills. He’d been drawn to this house above all others, but he’d never felt comfortable in it. He’d thought being drawn to it was good enough.

A short bark pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned toward the sound. A by-now familiar woman dressed in reflective white pajamas and the most interesting dog he’d ever seen were standing under the lamplight in front of his house. And the dog wasn’t the one who was barking.

Hope smiled brightly and waved. “I think I can speak dog,” she called over. She looked more awake than he felt. But the fact that she was walking a dog and speaking to it in its own language at three in the morning told him differently.

He’d read up on severe sleepwalking after their last encounter and had learned that although Hope’s deep-wave sleep had been interrupted, she could still perform complex behaviors while asleep. Like cooking, driving… and speaking dog. He’d also learned he shouldn’t read too much into what she said or did.

Hope strolled up the walkway, the dog at her heels, and Matt stifled a sigh and pasted a smile on his face, wondering what he should do now that his phone was stuck inside and he couldn’t call or text anyone.

Walking Hope home seemed like his best bet. Thanks to her sisters’ well-publicized misadventures, he not only knew where she lived, but he also knew they’d all had a rough few months. It made him wonder if traumatic episodes could trigger sleepwalking. A few months back, an FBI agent had been shot while protecting Hope’s older sister, Paige, and it had happened right there in Spinning Hills, in the old mansion-turned-apartment-building where the three sisters lived.

And Matt knew for a fact that Hope had just been through a difficult day. Her youngest sister, Gracie, had held a news conference in which all three sisters and their grandmother had taken a stand against old rumors that were circulating about Gracie and Josh Goodwin, a candidate for Montgomery County Prosecutor. Hope had looked entirely different on TV than she did at night. There had been zero vulnerability in the woman who had commanded the stage when it was her turn to speak. Matt had switched the channel, feeling again as if he was invading her privacy.

He’d also felt the need to put distance between himself and the lives of the women on the screen. The three sisters seemed to attract trouble; Hope seemed attracted to his house; Matt didn’t want trouble. And yet here Hope was. Again. And he couldn’t help but feel for her. As tough as she’d looked during the press conference, the stress must’ve gotten to her if she was talking to a dog in its own language.

Hope reached the bottom step and began barking at the dog again. Matt pressed his lips together. It was so bizarre, it was hard not to laugh, even as he was feeling sorry for the woman. But then the dog seemed to nod, as if he understood what Hope was saying. The dog hopped up the two remaining steps, jumped into Matt’s lap, and curled into a gray-and-brown ball in his lap. If he had to guess, the mutt was a mix between Chihuahua, Bulldog, and Yorkie.

Hope regarded him a warm smile. “I told him that you were sorry—and that you needed your bosom buddy.”

Sorry? Matt hesitated. Did she still think he was the contractor? Or did she think he was someone else entirely? She might not agree to let him walk her home if she didn’t trust him or if she didn’t even know where she lived. “What’s his name?” he asked, as he petted the dog’s only ear. Poor tiny beast. Someone needed a bosom buddy, and it certainly wasn’t him.

Hope climbed the steps and sat on the rocker in front of him. “Persephone, daughter of Zeus,” she said. “I thought you’d know.”

Matt smiled. “If you’re into mythology, wouldn’t Morpheus have been a better name?”

Hope gave him a blank look. “No. Why?”

Right. She wasn’t aware that she was asleep. And if he’d needed a reminder not to expect logic from her, hearing her bark and call a male dog Persephone, daughter of Zeus, should have been it. “Is he yours?” he asked next.

Hope studied him with an impatient look. “No. He’s yours. He told me so. And you should really do a better job of taking care of him because the poor thing was barking up a storm outside my window, waking me up to tell me he was lost. And you’ve obviously lost him before, what with the poor thing’s missing ear and all the missing patches of fur on his skinny little body. You know, if you can’t care for a dog, you shouldn’t have one. Look at me. I love dogs, but I know I travel too much to be a good owner, and so I don’t own one. It hurts. Because I badly want one. But there you have it.”

Matt took a deep breath and held it in for a few seconds before slowly releasing it. She was taking him to task for being an irresponsible dog owner… but it would do him no good to defend himself against the accusations of a somnambulant. “And so Persephone here told you his name and address, and you decided to bring him back,” he surmised.

“You’re welcome.” She smiled wide, and he couldn’t help but smile back. He wondered if she was as engaging when she was awake as when she was asleep.

“Here’s the thing,” Matt began. “I think Persephone here was confused when he gave you my address. He doesn’t belong to me. But I know exactly where he lives. Do you want to walk him home with me?”

Persephone uncurled, sat up on all fours on his lap, and started barking up at him.

“How could you?” Hope demanded.

“What did he say?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“He says he’s yours, and, no offense, but I’ll take a dog’s word over yours any day.”

“Why?” he asked, his pride taking a hit. He was nothing if not trustworthy.

“Because, look at the house!”

“What about the house?”

“We hired you to complete it nine years ago, and you’re just now staining the floors.”

The dog seemed upset about that, too, so Matt started petting him and soothing him with shushing sounds while Hope questioned him about his handling of a litany of issues with the house. Her voice was measured, and she was fair, and he couldn’t help thinking she made a better businesswoman while she was asleep than many of the executives he dealt with during the day. It made him wonder for a moment what she did for a living, but he quickly shut his curiosity down. The situation was getting away from him and the only way out of it was to walk Hope home and pawn the unfortunate dog off on one of her sisters.

“Okay, Persephone, I understand now,” he improvised when Hope had finished questioning him. Two could pretend to speak dog. “You’re confused because it’s late, you’re hungry, and you’ve been wandering the streets for hours, and I look just like your real owner, er, Ryan…Gosling. But I know where he lives, and I’ll take you there now, okay?”

Persephone growled and Hope shot Matt a look. “He says you look nothing like Ryan Gosling, and, again, I have to agree.” Hope looked him over. “Your hair is dark, wavy, and too long. You have a beard, your eyes are hazel, and your smile is not knowing. You look more like a cross between Omar Sharif and Paul Rudd. Handsome and kind of adorable at once.” She met his eyes. “But I wouldn’t mind meeting Ryan Gosling, he’s my type. So if you know where he lives, take us there now.”

Matt shot up before she could change her mind. “Right this way,” he said, leading her down the steps. Persephone was snuggled into his arms, and Matt decided to carry him to Hope’s apartment. The trip would be faster that way.

Hope smiled up at him. “I think Persephone, daughter of Zeus, likes you better than he likes Ryan.”

Matt smiled, too, and looked down at the skinny creature. “Maybe it’s because I don’t have a pretentious, knowing smile. A dog who’s been through as much as this dog looks like he’s been through probably wants someone with a friendly smile.”

Hope shook her head as she tried to fall into step beside him. Her waddling made it difficult, so he slowed down. “I don’t think so. Friendly smiles can be misleading. At least with a knowing smile, you know that you’re dealing with pretentiousness.” She looked up at him. “Besides, you don’t have a friendly smile. You have a mischievous smile. I don’t like it.”

Matt couldn’t help it, he laughed, and to his surprise, Hope laughed, too. “And what is it you don’t like about mischievous smiles?” he asked.

She shrugged. “When people wear mischievous smiles, they’re usually amused by something they’re not sharing. Like right now, I feel as though you know something I don’t, and I’d like to be in on the joke.”

Matt slowed down and peered at her a moment, wishing he could be certain she was asleep. Right now it felt as if she might be pulling his leg. “Well, I can’t speak for other people, but if my smile is mischievous it’s only because I’m easily tickled.”

“What’s tickling you now?”

“Persephone, daughter of Zeus. He’s licking me.”

“He tickled me, too.” Hope smiled her bright smile again.

“You,” he said, pointing at her, “have the smile of a woman who should never be sad.”

She frowned. “Are you flirting with me? Because I’m a married woman, you know. At least until I can find my husband to divorce him. Or declare him dead. Or something.” She stopped short and held her head as if it suddenly hurt, and Matt’s smile quickly disappeared. He was invading her privacy again, without meaning to.

“You’re tired. Let’s not talk about it now,” he said.

“I am tired,” she agreed. “And my head hurts. I think I’m going to lie down.” She stopped in front of the last house on Nome Court, knelt on the lawn, and closed her eyes. Before she could lie down, Matt put the dog down and scooped her up.

Her eyes were closed, but she was mumbling unintelligibly. Persephone was looking up at him with his head tilted to the side. Matt shrugged. His arms were killing him, but there was nothing he could do but carry her the rest of the way, with Persephone trotting along beside him.

Along the way, she snuggled up to his chest and asked, “What’s your name?” with her eyes still closed.

He hesitated, wondering if she was awakening. Would she scream when she realized she was in his arms? Sock him? Accuse him of something? Bust his privates the way she’d bragged about doing to an FBI agent? “Matt Williams,” he finally answered.

“Matt Williams?” she repeated, and he nodded, even though her eyes were shut and she couldn’t see him. “Why did you hesitate? Is that not your real name? You don’t look like a Matt Williams.”

He stopped and stared down at her a moment. “I hesitated because I thought you already knew my name.”

She sighed and her mouth turned down. “I don’t know what to do… Matt Williams. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t know how to stay.” The helplessness in her voice seemed out of character. Somehow, he knew it would mortify her to know she’d allowed anyone to hear it.

Matt picked up the pace. He couldn’t get her home fast enough. When he reached the Tudor mansion, he rang the doorbell and waited. Seconds later, a man flashed an FBI badge at Matt’s face. Matt recognized him as the agent who’d been shot a few months before. His picture had been on the news. What was he still doing there? A noise coming from the house next door made him look to see Josh Goodwin, the candidate for Montgomery County prosecutor, looking at him from an upstairs window. Now what was he doing there? He shook his head to clear his thoughts. None of it was any of his business, and if he were smart, he’d sell the house on Nome Court so he’d never have to see Hope and her headline-making family and friends ever again.

“Hope!” Gracie exclaimed, as she came up behind the FBI agent, her hand on her heart. “I didn’t even know she was gone.” She looked at Matt. “I must’ve forgotten to set the alarm! Where did you find her? And why didn’t you call us?” she demanded as the FBI agent took Hope from his arms.

Matt took a deep breath before letting it out, and tried hard to understand where Gracie was coming from, even when nobody seemed to care where he was coming from, which was from five blocks away, four of them carrying Hope, and two of them carrying a heavy heart. But he reminded himself that Gracie had had a tough day. “She showed up at my house again, but my phone was inside, and I couldn’t get to it without ruining the floors I’d just stained. Unfortunately, I left my keys inside, too, and so I thought it would be best to walk her home, but she tried to lie down on a lawn a few blocks back and so I had to carry her.”

The FBI agent raised his eyebrows. “You carried her four blocks? After staining floors all day. Whew.”

Gracie looked chagrined. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should be thanking you. This is Alex,” she said, gesturing to the agent. “Paige’s boyfriend. Would you like him to give you a ride home?”

So, the FBI agent who had taken a bullet for Paige was now her boyfriend. Is that what one had to do to earn a little gratitude from the Piper Sisters—take a bullet for them? “No, I’m fine, but Hope has acquired a dog. See?” he said, motioning behind him. When Matt turned around, he saw the dog was waiting for him at the end of the walkway, motioning with his head to Matt, as if saying, “Come on, man, let’s go.”

Alex grinned. “It looks like your dog to me.”

“Uh, no. It’s not.”

“Well, our landlady doesn’t allow dogs, so it can’t be Hope’s,” Gracie said.

Matt shot her a look. “Your landlady is your grandmother.”

“And she’s a cat person. Not a dog person.” Gracie folded her arms across her chest.

Hope, who had never stopped mumbling, rustled and opened her eyes. “Hey, there. Are you okay?” Gracie asked.

Hope slid out of Alex’s arms. “No. He’s had years to finish the house and he’s only now staining the floors, and he’s an irresponsible dog owner to boot! He’s denying that Persephone, daughter of Zeus, is his, as if the poor dog hasn’t been hurt enough, what with his ear and the patches of missing fur…” Her eyes lit up. “We should keep him!”

“Who, Matt Williams?” Gracie asked.

“No!” Hope’s eyes went so wide he’d have sworn she’d just been jolted awake. “Persephone—”

“No. we can’t. Grandma Sherry knows Matt, and she told me he’s the best dog owner in the whole entire world.”

Hope didn’t look convinced, but she managed to grumble, “Well, they do look like they love each other.”

Matt’s jaw dropped. They were going to stick him with the dog! “I can’t keep him, I don’t have a fenced-in yard,” he explained.

“Neither do we.” Alex shrugged.

Hope’s eyes lit up. “I’ll have one as soon as you finish the house! Maybe I’ll be able to keep him, then. I can hire a dog sitter.”

“Sounds like a plan,” was all he could think of to say. He’d rather keep the dog than try to argue with a house full of people who had it in them to be clever at three in the morning.