His Haunted Heart (3 page)

Chapter Three

Delilah

If Porter didn’t stop saying the word ‘bedroom’ over and over in such a nonchalant manner, I would shrivel up and die right there on the floor of his office. I got up off my backside with his assistance and tripped my way up his mountain of stairs, mahogany, shined, without a creak to be heard.

There must’ve been a hundred rooms in the place. Porter didn’t go into any of them. He stood in the doorway and explained who had once slept there or who had redecorated. Each bedroom boasted a unique color theme and for my own peace of mind, I would name them after those colors. I sighed, following his footsteps to the other side of the house, wondering how many more rooms I had to remember. For such a beautiful home, navigating it would be murder.

“This wing is our bedroom.”

Tingling in my head alerted me. He must be lying. He thought he could trick the girl with the wicked scar.

“The entire wing is a bedroom?”

The audacity of this man, trying to fool me.

“Well, not the entire thing. There’s a bathroom, a reading room, the bedroom, and both of our closets.”

He reached for two brass knobs and turned them, pushing the double doors open and revealing his truth. My new bedroom was bigger than two of my old houses put together.

“Heavens above,” I gasped.

“It was my parents’ bedroom. My father spoiled my mother rotten. She hasn’t slept in here since my father died years ago. Make yourself at home. There is running water, hot and cold here. No need to heat it over the fire.”

I didn’t know where to turn first. I’d heard murmurings of running water from the townsmen who did business in the other world. But to have access to it…

There was the other issue. I couldn’t break my gaze from the bed. A four-poster bed from another era sat in the middle of the room. The carvings along the posters and headboard were vines and roses of every shape and size, complete with thorns. Dark teal velvet curtains were drawn at the sides and held there with a cord of gold rope.

Unable to help myself, I looked at Porter who seemed to be under as much duress as I was.

“Delilah,” he said as he approached. I stood true. I refused to be afraid of this life like I was in the last.

“Porter.”

“I don’t expect anything from you tonight or any night until we are both willing. Don’t mistake me, you are beautiful and I won’t hide the fact that I want you. But I will wait until the feeling is mutual. Until then, I will be sleeping down the hall in the Grover bedroom.”

“Green.”

“Green?”

“Grover’s room is green. I couldn’t remember all the names, so I memorized them by color. Green sounded like Grover. It was easy to remember.”

He chuckled and the sound shattered the anxiety I’d built up. “That’s smart. I’ll get some of my clothes for tomorrow and then be out of your way. Supper is in two hours.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. My back was turned to him but I spun around to see his face. I was nothing if not self-punishing. “I’m sure I’m not the wife you’d hoped for.”

He stilled and for the second time in a day, I punished my lips for their outburst. From his previous doting, I half-expected a declaration on bended knee. Instead, he looked at me over his shoulder and clenched his fist. “You’re everything I wanted and more.”

Without another word, he gathered his things and left me, closing the door behind him.

~~

After the longest, warmest bath I’d ever had, I waited for something to happen. The house was quiet below and around me. Dressed in a gray skirt that came down almost to my ankles and a pink empire-waist blouse, I grabbed a black sweater before descending the massive stairs. I felt disjointed from the entire day’s events, as though they were happening to me in a dream and I was merely the audience. Slipping on my corrupted black boots reminded me that if, in fact, it was a dream then certainly I could imagine a better looking pair of shoes.

A gentle smile blossomed on my face thinking of my new husband. Certainly, I was standing on the edge of reality, just in the valley of the real Porter coming forth. No part of the scenario thus far made sense. Porter was wealthy, kind, and probably the most handsome man I’d ever seen. There had to be a flaw. No one so flawless would come searching much less settle for someone like me.

I steeled myself to enjoying the dream while it lasted.

I left the room and placed one foot on the top step when a figure at the bottom of the stairs appeared. My heart halted in my chest and my lungs arrested in surprise. It was the same child as I’d seen the day before. Her blonde hair and iridescent blue eyes were the same, yet this child was different.

Her dress was white again, in the same fashion with flared sleeves that reminded me of a portrait of Juliet as she wept over Romeo. Her baby-like chubby cheeks were now a little gaunter and her bare feet were now covered with simple ballet flats befitting her age. Though there was no draft and no open door, the fabric that clothed her waved in a phantom breeze, enhancing her empyrean appearance.

This child was clearly a bit older.

A chair behind the girl could be seen—through her body—and she spoke to me. Her mouth moved, coupled with a pained expression. The sorrow on her face was so palpable that I almost ran down to her and attempted to scoop her up, translucent or not.

Porter’s mother, emerged from one of the living rooms and clapped with glee. “There you are! Supper will be ready soon. Are you okay?”

I pointed with a shaking hand to the girl, only to find that she wasn’t there.

“What is it, child?”

The space was empty, bare of any sign of the girl.

“Nothing. I thought I saw something.”

“What did you see?”

Eliza didn’t seem half as shocked as I would’ve expected. I looked down at the plump woman now staring into the space previously occupied by the girl.

“What did I see?” I parroted back to her.

“Delilah, this is an old home, owned by many before my husband and me. Plus the way the sun peers through the windows casts shadow all over the place. I’ve gotten a scare more times than I could count.”

In a roundabout way, she was trying to give clout to my sighting without expressing direct validity.

“I understand.”

For the second time that day, she waved a hand in the air, dismissing me. “You’ve had a trying day. A wedding and a journey. You probably need a good meal and a decent night’s sleep, that’s all.”

I’d never sat down to a decent meal followed by a peaceful night’s sleep. If she claimed it would cure me, then perhaps I could’ve been well years ago. I made my way down the stairs and looked for Porter. A longing for the touch of my new husband caught me by surprise. I longed for the warmth and callous of his hands on mine. My hands fisted at my sides, wishing they were grasping his coat or his shirt instead of the air.

I felt a sense of safety with him—probably unfounded and naïve.

“Maybe you’re right. A meal and some sleep will help.” Following her to the dining room, I saw that Porter stood near the far end, hands clasped behind his back, staring out the window that faced a haze-covered pond which could only be seen by the light of the bayou moon. I must’ve taken longer in the bath than I’d thought. Then again, everything in this place, from the time the horse clomped its feet on the driveway, fell under the tint of a dusky disposition.

He’d changed clothes, now clad in a loose fitting cream-colored shirt and simple gray trousers. Eliza cleared her throat as we passed the threshold. Porter inhaled a quick breath and turned around, causing me to muffle my own gasp. He was different, relaxed and casual, with his hair tousled.

He almost looked carefree.

“Did you enjoy your bath?”

My chin bowed with embarrassment. “I did. Thank you. It was like swimming.”

A chuckle broke free of both Porter and his mother. I hadn’t meant the comment in jest, but apparently they found humor in it. I would’ve taken humor over hate any day.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s been a while since we had a laugh around here. Porter is too serious for us all.”

Porter shot his mother a look that I perceived as a silent signal that she’d revealed too much.

“Did you find your gifts?” he prompted after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

“I did. But, I can’t accept them.”

His posture grew rigid as I spoke. A sprig of dark brown hair fell from its place and wafted across his forehead, equally offended as Porter obviously was. Already I’d said something wrong in less than a day. It seemed I would never learn to keep my mouth shut.

“Why not?”

I flicked at the edges of my sweater. Some women might’ve jumped at the chance to have nice things and expensive clothing. I’d grown comfortable in my station in life and the things it afforded me. Dressing me up would be like having a hand-crafted door fitted to a shamble of a shack. The clothes I wore suited the look of me.

I stuttered out, “I’m not used to them. I can’t just change who I am in a day and no amount of fine clothes will change what I look like. It’s like trying to dress up a possum.”

Another giggle erupted from Eliza as she attempted to quietly leave the conversation. “Port, I will retrieve the food from the kitchen while you clear this up.” Clear this up was enunciated for some reason. I felt the welts of the incoming scolding before it had even begun.

She took her leave and as the door shut behind her, Porter approached me. My initial thought was that the glass that was this whole day had finally cracked. I’d cracked it wide open with my words. Would he strike me or use hurtful words—or both? I didn’t know.

“Delilah.” He breathed my name like a prayer and as his warm breath flowed over my face, so did a knowing that no harm would come to me. “Please don’t say such things. This is such a small part of you.” His thumb traced the path of the cut, this time starting at my chin and ending up at the top, near my temple.

“There’s more,” I confessed.

“Where?”

Didn’t he know that he’d just asked the most intimate question of them all? I hefted out a heavy breath and stilled myself, silently building a wall to lean against. This was my husband now, not just a stranger though I’d known him less than a day. The least I could do was to look him in the eyes and give him the full truth of who I was—no matter how disgraceful.

“Along my back.” Gazing into his eyes, searching for a response, he blinked several times. His hands blazed a trail down my arms, ending in our hands joined together.

“One day you’ll have to show me. Just know that we all have scars. Mine are in here.”

He took my right hand and placed it over his heart. I trembled under the force of his words and his unfailing stare.

“Maybe one day I will see yours and perhaps you can learn not to see mine.”

“Perhaps,” he answered as the clang of dishes interrupted our conversation.

“Everything okay in here?” Eliza asked.

“Yes, Mother. Everything is well.”

His last word gurgled within me and nearly diminished my appetite. He’d said perhaps, which meant that for now, all he could see was my scar, regardless of his precious claim to my beauty.

It could be worse
, I assured myself.

As we all took our seats around the table, Porter and his mother made easy conversation about events around the property. More food than I’d seen in a week was heaped onto my plate and after only a few bites, I was stuffed.

“Mother, I will be going away tomorrow on business. Would you mind staying here for a while longer until I get back?”

An unfounded feeling of abandonment took over, shaking me to the core. He was leaving already. He did only see my scar and was repulsed by it and by me. Unshed tears cued in the corners of my eyes and awaited their part in this tragedy of a play.

“Excuse me.” I plopped my napkin down on the table and went out of the first door in sight, taking me to the living room where I spotted double doors that led outside. I opened one and slipped out, freeing myself from any further humiliation I’d caused myself. I was a fool. This wasn’t a real marriage or even a fantasy of one.

His mother probably goaded him into finding a wife so that she could have grandchildren and I was just the hip-heavy sow chosen to give them to her—as soon as they fattened me up properly.

Steel yourself, Delilah.

My attention was caught by a cloud of lights in the night air—lightning bugs. They were everywhere. I took in what I could of my new home from this fresh perspective, letting it calm me. A large pond twice the size of Sable’s, was at the back, complete with an island in the middle and several boats awaiting a captain. The neighs of horses could be heard in the distance. Katydids and swamp frogs made a harmonious orchestra.

I tried to take deep breaths, but the cold, humid air did nothing for my restless emotions. I had no reason to be upset.

There were worse things than living in a grand mansion with every luxury at your fingertips.