Jaxson's Song (6 page)

“
Oh, yeah, you’re new around here,” Carl was saying. “The old
lady that lived at that house was always reporting break-ins, and
strange noises.” He grunted, shifting into Drive and pulling away
from the curb. “Toward the end, she swore the place was
haunted.”

“
Haunted?” Gabe echoed, twisting around in his seat for one
last glimpse of the house before they rounded the corner. “That’s
crazy.”

“
Yeah, tell me about it.”

Chapter Five

Forget About It

S
tay
at his place? Kate shifted her
head to the side, studying the man who stood, almost reluctantly,
in her foyer. He didn’t want her to stay. Not really. Kate knew
full well he wanted to be left alone. Whether that was the result
of a bad day at work, or if he was one of those people with a
natural inclination to be standoffish, she couldn’t say. And
speaking of rough days at work—what on Earth did Jaxson do for a
living? Kate took in the enormous pink fuzzy slippers he’d put on
before they’d left his house, and she suppressed the urge to
pry.

She was almost afraid to
ask about his day job. Did he dress…like that? She couldn’t imagine
what kind of employer would allow a man to come to work dressed in
women’s clothing. Then again, maybe she did know of a place or two
that would allow, even encourage, her strange neighbor to show up
for work in such an outrageously flamboyant costume. Kate didn’t
dare ask him such a personal question, though, even if she found
herself increasingly, morbidly, curious about the oddity that her
neighbor presented.

Did she want to stay with
him tonight? Better yet, did she trust him? The answer to the first
was, unequivocally, yes. The last thing she wanted to do was ramble
around, alone, in this empty house, especially right after a
break-in. And there
had
been a break in tonight, no matter what nonsense
the police had been spouting about the lock being damaged from the
inside out.

She’d worry about the
specifics of all that later. Right now it was late and she was
tired, no, exhausted. The past forty-eight sleep deprived hours had
finally caught up with her and, coupled with the adrenaline rush
and subsequent crash, she was ready to drop. But the question
remained—did she trust Jaxson? She supposed that depended upon what
was at stake.

“
Are you coming or not?”

Did she believe he was
some sort of crazed person who would harm her? Not really, no. For
now, she figured, that had to be good enough. “I’m coming. Thank
you.”

“
Yeah, sure.”

The wind was howling when
they walked out the door. Kate took the time to lock up, pulling
tight on the knob to make sure the lock had properly
latched.

Wind-whipped leaves
swirled around Jaxson and Kate’s feet, and fat, stinging raindrops
pelted them on their mad dash across the driveway.

“
Wait!” Kate held her hands over her head and raised her voice
to be heard over the roaring of the full-out storm. “I forgot to
lock my car!” A bolt of lightning split the night sky close by,
behind Kate’s house. The boom that followed drowned out Jaxson’s
response.

“
Tough shit!” he shouted, slamming the key into the lock and
shoving both himself and Kate into his kitchen. He steadied her
when she slid wetly across the slick white tile, almost taking a
header into the table in his effort to keep Kate
upright.

“
But—”

“
Forget about it. Nobody’s crazy enough to be out in this,” he
said, frowning at the growing puddle of water accumulating beneath
himself and Kate.

“
New York,” she blurted, embarrassed the second the words left
her mouth.

“
What?” he asked, reaching behind himself to snag a pair of
hand towels from the counter top.

“
I-I’m sorry, that was probably rude,” she stammered,
accepting one of the towels and forcibly composing herself. “But it
just hit me, your accent,” she explained, taking another deep
breath and cursing herself for letting her neighbor knock her so
far off kilter.

But that wasn’t fair. It
wasn’t him, exactly. Other than his initial reaction when he’d
found her on his doorstep—which she’d decided to let go since he’d
apologized, helped her, and seemed genuinely sorry for his
less-than-cordial behavior—and his, er, unconventional dress, her
neighbor seemed normal enough.

He was so bold, though,
and direct, his personality at odds with the image he projected to
the world. Silk and pearls colliding in a confusing mix of rough,
granite features and eyes that saw too much. It
was…unsettling.

Jaxson coughed and
narrowed his eyes, and Kate was mortified to be caught staring at
him—again. “Sorry. Um, earlier, when we were waiting for the
police, I knew you sounded different. You’re from New York,
right?”

“
My family lives in Manhattan.” He finally nodded.

“
That’s where you lived before you came here?” Kate asked,
struggling to keep up their conversation while she rubbed at her
arms with the daisy-print towel.

“
No.” He tossed his own towel onto the counter and took a can
of soda from the fridge. “I came here from Brooklyn.”

“
Oh.” Kate wrapped the slightly damp but still fluffy kitchen
towel around her right hand, tilted her head to one side, and began
squeezing long sections of hair through the fabric in an attempt to
wring some of the moisture from the strands. “That must have been
an exciting place to grow up,” she finally said, nodding when
Jaxson held out a red and blue can. “Thank you.”

“
It was okay,” he mumbled, avoiding Kate’s eyes. “Look, if
you’re hungry, I’ve got sandwiches.”

“
No, thank you.” She popped the tab on her cola. She usually
reached for coffee—light cream, no sugar—instead of soft drinks,
but the icy, sugary rush was fortifying after the night she’d just
had.

Jaxson shrugged and turned
back to the kitchen part of the room, while Kate took a seat on one
of the two bleached-wood bar stools that were partially tucked
beneath the overhanging counter on the dining room’s
side.

Deciding she’d done the
best she could currently manage with her hair and clothing, she set
the towel on the Formica, close to her elbow, and focused her
attention on Jaxson as he began to assemble bread and cold cuts
from a foil package. She sipped her drink as she eyed the sandwich
taking shape on the other side of the kitchen. It
did
look good…and
the last meal she’d eaten was a pack of vending machine
taco-flavored tortilla chips, crushed and sprinkled over Olivia’s
idea of dinner—iceberg lettuce, one cherry tomato, and a shredded
baby carrot. Jaxson added several thin slices of white cheese onto
his creation before topping it off with a thick slice of deli-style
bread; Kate’s stomach growled.

“
Is that provolone and Italian bread?” she asked, catching her
bottom lip between her teeth.

“
It is.” One corner of his mouth twitched up.

“
Um, actually, I am a little hungry. Would you mind if I made
myself a sandwich?”

Jaxson glanced up briefly.
“Here, take this one.”

“
Thanks.” She flashed him a grateful smile, digging in without
further encouragement when he wrapped the sandwich loosely in a
paper towel and set it in front of her. “So, tell me about
Manhattan, or I guess, Brooklyn,” she said when he’d made himself
another sandwich and moved the second bar stool to the other side
of the counter so that he was sitting across from her. Outside, a
crack of thunder boomed and a gust of wind struck the front of the
house, rattling the front door in its frame.

“
Jesus,” Jaxson muttered, taking a deep breath and shaking his
head.

“
It’s okay; you’ll get used to it,” Kate said, unconcerned
with the storm that raged outside their door. Georgia weather
wasn’t all that different from Florida. Slightly less rain, maybe.
But she was no stranger to storms. Jaxson, though… “This is a lot
different from New York, I guess.”

“
Yeah,” he snorted. “A little. The heat, the humidity, the
storms. They didn’t tell me it would rain every other day.” He
shook his head.

“
They?”

“
Oh.” He looked momentarily taken aback. “My aunt and uncle,”
he finally said. “Sorry. You were asking about New York, weren’t
you? That’s kind of distracting.” He smiled wryly as another boom
of thunder seemed to vibrate the very foundation of the
house.

“
It’s okay. I understand.” Kate shrugged. “After my dad died,
Mom took me and Lilly to her cousin’s farm up in Wisconsin and it
was rough.”

“
Yeah?”

“
Hmm.” She sipped her cola and nodded. “We didn’t stay long,
and all I really remember is being frozen all the time. The North
Woods may be a beautiful place, but I don’t think we would have
ever gotten used to the cold.”

“
So you ended up back in Florida.” He nodded.

“
Georgia,” Kate corrected absently, watching the muscles in
Jaxson’s jaw work while he chewed. “I’m from Georgia. The house
next door—my house—actually belonged to my aunt, Viola Leclere, my
father’s only sister. She passed away last month. For some reason,
she left the house to me and Lilly Ann.”

“
For some reason?” Jaxson popped a lone corner of bread into
his mouth before wadding up the paper towel and pitching it across
the kitchen and into the trash can. “What makes you say
that?”

“
I don’t know.” She shook her head and shoved the remainder of
her own meal away, pushing back from the counter top and resting
her hands on the tops of her thighs. “I guess it’s not so out of
the ordinary. Aunt Viola never had any children… Still, I was
surprised to find she’d left it to us, because we weren’t close.
Lilly and I hadn’t been out here in years.” Kate shrugged. “And we
didn’t keep in touch. No letters, or phone calls, nothing like
that.”

“
She didn’t tell you about her plans, you know, before she
died?”

“
No.” Kate frowned. “My cousin Olivia was the attorney who
handled Viola’s will and estate and even she was surprised. Viola
was sick; she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer and was in the
hospital when she decided to have her last will drawn up. Out of
the blue, she calls Olivia and flies her down her from Chicago to
handle the paperwork. Four or five weeks later, Olivia was calling
to tell me Viola was dead.” Kate sighed, noticing for the first
time how Jaxson was leaning forward and to the side, elbows resting
on counter top as he regarded her thoughtfully. Not speaking, not
looking away, but calmly, patiently waiting for her to finish
spilling her thoughts into the space between them.

Suddenly, she didn’t want
to. Her mouth felt dry and she fumbled with her drink, telling
herself it was the condensation on the can that made her feel like
she was all thumbs. Kate drained the can in two long swallows and
tried not to feel appalled at how much she had just shared with
someone who was more or less a complete stranger.

No, that wasn’t right, she
thought as she pursed her lips and slid off the stool to dispose of
the can and what was left of her sandwich. Jaxson didn’t quite fit
into the “total stranger” category. But in no way did she know him
well, and he was moody, and wore women’s clothing, and…

And she’d just had to
remind herself of those facts. A cold chill mist settled over her
skin like a film, and she told herself to stop acting like a fool.
Sure, she was alone and a little scared and loaded down with
responsibility—not to mention the sharp end of lingering grief for
her mother—right now, but her mercurial neighbor was not the answer
to her problems. At all.

By the time she’d turned
around and made the short trek from one end of the kitchen to the
other, Jaxson was standing up.

“
So, um, this is a great house,” Kate said, crossing her arms
over her chest and curling her fingers closer to her palms. It was
true; the house had a certain classic, old-world charm that she
envied. The air here felt pleasantly cool instead of flat-out cold;
calm instead of turbulent. The light was dim and gentle and
appliances hummed in the background. Somewhere in the house, the
steady ticking of a clock could be heard, and Kate dreaded the
moment when she would have to go back to the dusty, oppressive
silence of her own house.

“
Yeah,” Jaxson agreed with a shrug, as if he hadn’t really
noticed before she brought it up.

“
Is this a family home?” she asked, following as he led the
way through the sitting room and up a dark staircase that she
hadn’t noticed when they’d been in this room earlier.