Murky Waters

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tristan woke up and untangled herself from Claire and spent a long time admiring her sleeping lover before getting out of bed.

She pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt before making her way to the kitchen to feed her tiny tiger and start the coffeepot. For a fleeting instant, Tristan felt the familiar fear and apprehension well up inside her. Pausing for a moment, she leaned against the wall, fighting the nausea that accompanied her panic. The compulsion to run nearly overwhelmed her, and she silently questioned her decision to allow Claire to stay.

Glancing down at the orange tabby awaiting his breakfast, Tristan realized how foolish it would be to flee her own home. For the first time she could ever remember, she put someone else’s feelings before hers, knowing it would devastate Claire to be left alone again. “Not this time,” she whispered to the cat. The fear receded after her admission, making her believe that she had won a pivotal battle in the war against herself.

Lost in thought, she sat down at the kitchen table, ignoring the cat’s demands to be fed immediately. Wincing as she rubbed the back of her neck, her entire body ached from the previous night.

She had taxed muscles she didn’t even know she had. One part of her body in particular was sorer than the rest.

In all the dalliances she had enjoyed, she had never allowed anyone to touch her there. Feelings of fear and vulnerability kept her from giving that part of herself to anyone. Claire had obviously been shocked to discover her secret, that much had been evident on her face in the pale light. Yet, she was gentle and introduced Tristan to feelings that she had craved for so long. A grin made its way across Tristan’s face at the memory.

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Ralph had grown impatient with her silent reverie and slapped at his empty bowl, breaking her from her thoughts.

Relieved to see that the power had come back on during the night, Tristan sleepily started the coffee brewing and filled Ralph’s bowl of food. “I shouldn’t even feed you after that stunt you pulled last night.” She thrust her foot out at the cat dining on his morning meal. “Look what you did to me! I should wring your fuzzy little neck. If you weren’t so cute, things would be much different around here!”

Her tirade was interrupted by a knock on the door. Tristan’s heart sank into her stomach. With everything going on the night before, she had forgotten about her ritual Sunday morning breakfast date.

She opened the door to Cameron Hughes and his wife, Lucy.

She hugged them both as they entered. They exchanged glances as they appraised Tristan’s lack of apparel. “Why aren’t you dressed yet, Tris?” Lucy asked.

Tristan began to stammer. “Well, I, umm ...” At that moment, Claire stumbled into the kitchen, wearing Tristan’s robe. Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth moved without making any sound.

Tristan looked at Claire and the couple with a sheepish grin.

“I’m sorry, Cam and Lucy, I just forgot,” Tristan said with a shrug.

Lucy seized upon the moment to make the girl she had come to accept as a daughter squirm. “Tris, honey, we’ve had the same date for the past three years. What on earth have you been up to that you would forget?”

Claire’s face turned crimson; she dared not look Cameron in the eye. Tristan, overwhelmed with the situation, just began to laugh.

Lucy held a straight face for as long as she could before falling into a fit of laughter of her own.

“You must be Claire,” Lucy said as she took the embarrassed blonde into her arms. “Cam has told me a lot about you already, and I’m looking forward to getting to know you.” Claire returned the warm embrace, stealing a glance over her shoulder at Tristan, who stood grinning.

Lucy made her way to the coffeepot. “Well, Cam, it looks like there will be four of us for breakfast this morning.”

Claire began to object. “Oh, I don’t want to intrude ...”

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Before she could get another word out, Cameron spoke up.

“Nonsense, Claire. We would love to have you. Matter of fact, we insist.” Claire accepted the invitation as gracefully as she could under the circumstances, relieved that she had forsaken her earlier plan to walk into the room naked.

“Tristan, honey, go get in the shower, and let us have a cup of coffee with Claire,” Lucy said as she grasped a very nervous-looking Claire by the hand and led her to the table.

“Oh, no! I’m not leaving her alone with you two!” Tristan objected. This in turn made Claire even more nervous.

“Do as I say, missy,” Lucy said with mock indignation.

After she was sure Tristan was in the shower, Lucy spoke to Claire. “Sweetie, I know you are embarrassed, but don’t be. Being your boss, Cam here cannot discuss this with you, but I sure can.

We don’t make our relationship with Tristan public knowledge.

We don’t want anyone at Valor to think she gets preferential treatment. She has earned her position with the company.

“Though she is not our flesh and blood, we consider her our baby, and we love her very much. We were at the hospital the day she was born. Her father, Mitchell, grew up with Cam, and when her father died, we became her adopted parents, in a manner of speaking. The reason I am telling you all this is because we do not want her hurt. She has never brought anyone to her home, so you must be extremely special to her. If she doesn’t mean the same to you, please let her down gently and quickly.”

Claire suddenly realized that even though Tristan was not Lucy’s daughter, she had gotten her bluntness from Lucy. Claire looked Lucy in the eyes and chose her words carefully. “I feel exactly the same for Tris. I won’t do anything to intentionally hurt her. I realize how this must look to you both, especially with me just starting with the company.”

Lucy interrupted. “Darlin,’ Cam and I met at Valor. No need to explain that to us. We just want to protect Tris from being hurt, even if it is not our place.”

At this, Cam interrupted. “I’m sure we seem overprotective.

After all, she is a grown woman, but she’s had a very rough life.”

Cam hesitated and looked at Lucy, searching for the right words.

They both looked down the hall to make sure the coast was clear.

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“What Cam is trying to say is that Tris had a very tumultuous relationship with her mother. That woman has beaten her down all her life. She has told Tristan from the time she was a baby that no one would ever want her. Tristan is just now starting to get a sense of self-worth.” Cam reached over to calm his wife, who was well on her way to a tirade. Lucy would never forgive Mallory for the abusive treatment of someone she held so dear.

“She told me that her relationship with her mother was terrible but has not gone into detail. I’ve been afraid to push her; I can tell the wounds go very deep,” Claire said with concern. “I know she is doing her best to cope with what has been dealt to her, and I will be there for her as long as she will allow me.”

Knowing that Tristan would be back soon, Lucy reached across the table and took Claire by the hand. “I believe you will be good for our girl. I didn’t mean to pry, but she is very special. Thank you for putting up with us.”

As if on cue, everyone at the table began talking about the weather when they heard Tristan coming down the hall. Tristan entered the kitchen with a suspicious look on her face. She got herself a cup of coffee and joined the group at the table.

Lucy focused her attention on Tristan. “What took you so long, baby? Did you have to shave both of those long legs twice?”

“As a matter of fact, just once,” Tristan shot back with a grin.

“Did you ever tell Claire the story of the weekend you stayed with us and decided to shave your legs for the first time?” Lucy asked laughing.

“I cannot believe you are going to bring that up!” Tristan said as her cheeks blushed.

“Oh, Claire, it was so funny. Tris came to stay with us one weekend when she was around ten. Cam and I had no children, so we really didn’t know how to childproof our house. Anyway, Tris was having her bath and decided to shave her legs. She grabbed my razor and lathered up. Poor baby was covered with so many cuts she could barely rinse her legs, but that wasn’t good enough.

She decided her arms needed to be done, too. Not the armpits, mind you, but her forearms,” Lucy said chuckling.

Tristan looked at Claire with a grin. “It was awful. The hair grew back thicker on my arms, and I looked like a woolly mammoth. I 98

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had to go through high school with arms that were hairier than most of the boys. Thank God for laser hair removal.”

Cam joined in on the conversation. “Remember when you got on that pork and beans kick and that was all you wanted to eat?”

Tristan buried her face in her hands. “Don’t listen to them, Claire, it’s all lies,” she said as Cam and Lucy teased her mercilessly.

“She came to the house one weekend, and all she wanted were the beans. Of course, we obliged her. They upset her little stomach so bad that the dog wouldn’t even sit next to her!” Cam said as they all burst into a fit of laughter.

“Claire, if you have any feelings for me whatsoever, have mercy and go shower while I deal with these two,” Tristan pleaded, refusing to look Claire’s way.

Claire excused herself from the table and went to bathe. She was still chuckling as she made her way down the hall. Tristan narrowed her eyes and tried her best to glare at the two sitting across from her. “The first woman I ever bring home and you two have to tell her stories of how I farted on the dog.” Cam and Lucy tried to apologize, but the chuckles belied their sincerity.

Tristan did her best to maintain her scowl, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Try to behave yourselves at breakfast, and if you dare tell her the story of me getting my Easter dress caught in my stockings, I’ll kill you both.”

The group went to breakfast at a café a few miles from Tristan’s place. The conversation was light, and Claire found herself enjoying the company of the older couple. She noticed that Tristan was at ease in their presence, and there was a sense of peace about her. Claire could tell that Tristan cared just as deeply for them as they did her.

Cam and Lucy could have very easily passed for Tristan’s biological parents, especially Lucy with her dark hair and eyes.

Claire wondered if Tristan would have been a different person had she been raised by such loving people. On the exterior, Tristan seemed self-confident, but Claire was quickly learning that Tristan bore many insecurities inside, no doubt caused by her upbringing.

A feeling of melancholy settled over Claire as she watched the three of them talking and laughing. At seventeen, she had lost her parents and only sister in a car accident, and times like these made 99

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her heart ache for them. Her grandmother had taken her in after the accident, and although she was warm and loving, she could not fill the void. With the passing of her grandmother shortly after she finished college, Claire had been on her own, with the exception of a few relationships.

She smiled as she remembered the day she told Tristan of her loss and how her brown eyes filled with tears of compassion.

Watching her now with Cam and Lucy, Claire wondered if this would be her new family.

Tristan and Claire spent the remainder of the day basking in the sun on Tristan’s deck. They lay sprawled out in the chaise lounges, each lost in her own thoughts, when Claire noticed that Tristan had dozed off. She looked at the woman lying next to her in silent wonder. Her skills in the bedroom were amazing, but how she had maintained her virginity was a mystery. Claire had been too exhausted to press the issue the night before, and now, curiosity got the better of her.

She stuck her hand into her water glass and sprinkled it across Tristan’s stomach. The sleeping woman squirmed but didn’t wake up. Claire’s face lit up in an evil grin as she fished out an ice cube and carefully dropped it down the front of Tristan’s baggy shorts.

Seconds later, Tristan lurched forward and grabbed at her crotch.

“Whoa there, missy! No self-pleasuring in front of Ralph, you might warp his innocent mind,” Claire teased as Tristan stood and tugged at the leg of her shorts until the ice fell onto the deck.

“After last night, I thought I was special, then you pull this,”

Tristan said, poking her bottom lip out.

“Aw, baby, you are special,” Claire said mockingly. “Come sit down here, and I’ll show you how much.”

Tristan straddled Claire’s chair and sat in the pit of her stomach.

“Is this good?” she asked with a wicked grin as Claire’s eyes bulged.

“You’re heavier than you look, must be all those muscles,” Claire croaked under her weight.

“I’m thinking there’s a compliment in there somewhere,” Tristan said as she folded her arms across her chest for a moment before having mercy on Claire and moving to sit beside her.

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Claire ran her nails lightly over Tristan’s back. “Yes, dear, take it as a compliment.” Listening to Tristan’s chuckle, Claire decided to take advantage of the moment and ask what she was dying to know. “Can I ask you something, sweetie?”

“Uh huh,” Tristan responded as she scratched Ralph behind the ears while he lay in the shade of Claire’s chair.

“Last night, when we ...” Claire paused, trying to choose her words carefully.

“I never let anyone touch me that way until now,” Tristan answered softly, already knowing what Claire was trying to get at.

“I have never been comfortable with being that vulnerable with anyone, except you.” She glanced nervously over her shoulder at Claire as Ralph took off at maximum speed in pursuit of a butterfly foolish enough to cross his deck.

Claire sat up and wrapped her arms around Tristan’s shoulders.

“That really means a lot to me, Tris. My feelings for you are so strong.” Claire wanted to say more, but the words caught in her throat. She was afraid to spring her real feelings on Tristan too soon. Afraid to indulge in the conversation any further for fear of getting her heart broken, Tristan changed the subject. She ran off to refill their water glasses, and when she came back, the topic took a lighter turn.

Ralph would appear occasionally, bringing his pet presents, the first of which was a half-eaten grasshopper. Tristan fawned over him as though he had brought her a pot of gold. The ritual continued for most of the afternoon. Both women made a big deal of each dead bug he brought up until he brought his last gift –– a small grass snake.

It took Tristan a while to coax Claire down from her precarious perch on top of the patio table. “Look, Claire, it’s dead, I promise.

Besides, it was only a grass snake. As disgusting as it is, it’s not poisonous.” Tristan could not help but laugh at the situation, which perturbed Claire even more. To top it all off, Ralph was pissed off that he had not gotten the praise he had become accustomed to when he brought his gifts.

“What in the hell is wrong with that cat? I mean, is he crazy?

Why on earth would he bring a damn snake up here?” Claire hissed through clenched teeth.

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Tristan chuckled despite herself. “We’ve been out here long enough anyway. Your skin is starting to get a little red.” She held out her arms and assisted Claire down off the table. They went inside to cool off, leaving a bewildered cat in their wake.

After Claire had a few sips of iced tea, she began to calm down a bit. “Tristan, I’m sorry I got so upset out there. I cannot stand a snake.” She shook in disgust. “My nerves have been a little on edge lately with the new job and all; I guess I just flew off the handle. Although I have to admit, if he ever does that again, I will jump on top of the closest thing I can find, which might just be you.”

Tristan looked at her thoughtfully. “Sounds to me like you need a little break. I have to go up to St. Francisville tomorrow to meet one of the boats at the ferry landing to deliver some paperwork.

We don’t have crew change this week, and your department will be slow, except for a few reports that I am sure your agents can handle. Cam expects me to show you all aspects of our business, so you will have a broader understanding of what we do. We’ll kill two birds with one stone. You can accompany me on the trip and visit another one of our boats. Then, we will be free for the afternoon.

“Aside from it being a quaint and historical little town, St.

Francisville is home to one of the most notoriously haunted plantation homes. We could have lunch there and take a tour of the place. I hear it’s really very spooky. So what do ya say? Want to see some ghosts?”

“As long as you don’t plan on spending the night in any haunted house, it sounds great to me. Umm, do I have to wear those steel-toed boots? If so, I don’t see us walking very far. The last time you made me wear those things, my calves ached for a week, and I had to get a pedicure to fix the damage to my toenails.”

The next morning, they climbed into Tristan’s work truck and headed north to St. Francisville. After they were out of Baton Rouge, Claire paid more attention to the landscape. It was similar to Texas with all the pine trees that lined Highway 61. Just before they got into the city limits of St. Francisville, she noticed that the 102

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land became a little hillier. Old live oak trees lined the roadside. It seemed as though they were in a different world entirely.

Being with Tristan made her fears of the stalker fade into the background, but occasionally, those thoughts would break through the joyous haze she had been wrapped up in and smack her in the face. Often when they were in public places, she would feel the hair rise up on her neck, as though someone was watching her every move. The panic would rise in her until she would find Tristan in the crowd watching over her.

Lighting a cigarette, she inhaled the smoke, waiting for it to calm her nerves. So far, she had not received any more unwanted envelopes. The appearance of the menacing packages had always been sporadic, and she was certain a new one would arrive soon.

She longed to confide in Tristan about the nightmare that had pursued her from Houston, but she was afraid of divulging her problem so early in their relationship. She was forced to admit to herself that she was simply in denial, hoping that one day it would all just go away, but each time she thought that happened, a new envelope would arrive.

Tristan broke Claire from her thoughts when she spoke.

“Normally, the port managers do this kind of stuff, but I love taking short road trips. It gets me out of the office for a while and gives me a chance to just think about things and enjoy being outside.”

Claire looked at her for a moment. “What kind of things do you think about when you make these trips?”

“I don’t know, really. It’s just nice to let my mind roam free for a while. I purposely don’t think about anything concerning work until I get to where I’m going. It’s kind of refreshing,” Tristan said with a grin.

“Can I ask you something off the subject?” Claire glanced at her nervously.

“Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“I know you told me that you wanted a relationship, but I am just curious about whether you intend to date anyone else or just me exclusively.”

Tristan steered the truck down the steep ferry landing. Once she had the vehicle in park, she turned to look at Claire. “I want to be very honest with you.”

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Claire felt her stomach tighten. She was afraid of the ominous tone in Tristan’s voice. Up until that moment, she thought she and Tristan were on the same page. Now, she was not so sure.

“I’ve never really been in a serious relationship. I have dated a few girls but only for a short time. I’ve never really committed myself to anyone ... until now,” Tristan said. “I hope you feel the same way about this, but I am not interested in seeing anyone else.

For the first time in my life, I have found in you someone I’d like to share my life with.”

Claire hugged Tristan and held her close for a moment. “I am so glad you feel that way. I was so afraid you were going to tell me that you still wanted to date other people. Once I find someone I really like, I have no desire to see anyone else, and I really like you. I grow fonder of you each minute I spend in your presence, and I would love to commit myself to you and this relationship.”

Tristan drew back from Claire to kiss her, but just as their lips brushed together, a loud horn startled them both. The Taylor Nichole made its presence known. Tristan growled low in her throat at the captain for interrupting them.

Tristan made a call to the boat on her cell phone. She and the captain talked a moment and decided it would be unsafe for her and Claire to try getting out to the vessel since fog had settled over the water. Tristan didn’t want to take a chance with Claire in the small launch boat called a skiff.

They both stood on the landing and watched as the craft was lowered into the water. The towboat itself was too large to come any closer to shore. Claire and Tristan walked to the water’s edge to meet the deckhand who brought the tiny boat on shore. Tristan introduced Claire and gave him the needed paperwork. They watched the skiff make its way back to the boat before being hoisted onto the deck.

“Now, the day is ours.” Tristan grinned and led Claire back to the truck. “It’s still a little early for the first tour. Why don’t we take a drive around town? Should you see anywhere you want to stop and look around, just let me know.”

As they drove, Claire noticed a small graveyard next to an old church. It gave her the creeps the way it was surrounded by trees whose moss hung down over the old stone crypts. “Tristan, why do they have all those crypts above ground? It looks so creepy.”

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“When I was a little girl, my dad told me it was because of the water table. Most of the graveyards in New Orleans have aboveground crypts because the city itself is below sea level.

Whenever there is a flood, the water table rises and pushes the soggy coffins up and out of the dirt. So, they just started to put them on top of the ground in crypts.

“This graveyard here was thought to be high enough above the water table. There is an old tale that one year we had real high waters on the Mississippi, and the water table rose high enough to push the coffins buried here out of the ground. According to the stories I have heard, the townsfolk did not take too well to seeing the long dead back above ground.”

Claire shuddered. “Can you imagine waking up and seeing something like that, or worse, seeing it actually happen? It gives me the creeps just thinking about it. I can tell you right now, if I had seen something like that, I would have shit a kitten. Hell, maybe a whole litter!”

Tristan burst out laughing at Claire’s colorful banter. Claire cast her a sideways glance. “What are you laughing at?”

“Shit a kitten? Sheesh, you Texans can come up with some stuff!” Tristan continued to laugh.

Claire looked at her mockingly. “Texans, huh? I learned the

‘shitting a kitten’ thingy from one of your crew coordinators, and I happen to know for a fact that he is a native of Louisiana.”

They drove around admiring the town and bickering over which state was best. Neither really cared but enjoyed ribbing the other about what her state did and did not have. The playful banter came to a halt when they pulled through the iron gates of the Myrtles Plantation.

The day had become overcast and added to the eerie appeal of the Myrtles. Claire instantly began scanning the windows of the old house trying to catch a glimpse of ghostly activity. From just the brief history Tristan had given her on the ride up, she already had a good case of the creeps.

They decided to have lunch since the next tour would not start for an hour or so. Tristan refused to have wine with her meal, reminding Claire that she was a lightweight and would not be able to drive home. In addition, she wanted her mental faculties about 105

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her in case they encountered anything strange. They both settled on iced tea.

“Do you believe in ghosts, Tristan?” Claire asked with a smirk.

Tristan returned the smirk. “I’ve never seen a ghost myself, but I suppose that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Frankly, I don’t know what to make of all the things people have claimed to see. Maybe they want to see something so badly that their mind plays tricks on them.” Tristan shrugged her shoulders.

“What would you do right now if you looked out that window and saw a ghost?” Claire widened her eyes, attempting to appear dramatic.

Tristan laughed. “I can assure you of two things if I saw a ghost right now. First, I would wet my pants. Second, I would run out of this place like I was on fire, and may God help the person who got between me and my car. You better hope that if that happens I have the presence of mind to grab you and take you with me!”

Claire roared with laughter, so much so that the other patrons turned to look at her. Tristan gave them her most charming smile and shrugged her shoulders as if to say she didn’t know what Claire’s problem was. Claire was still chuckling when their lunch was brought to the table. The waitress gave her an awkward glance before departing.

Tristan had gotten a case of the giggles, as well. She did her best to control herself and asked Claire if she could compose herself long enough to eat. “Claire, are you going to be all right? You still have tears in your eyes.”

Claire choked a couple of times before she could speak. “I’m sorry, but I just had a mental picture of you running out of here with wet pants and waving your arms like a mad woman. I bet you my next paycheck they would put that in their brochure!” The couple giggled all through lunch with no regard for the amused glances thrown their way.

After lunch, they stepped outside with a few others to smoke.

They listened as some of the tourists talked excitedly about hopefully catching a glimpse of one of the famous ghosts known to haunt the house. Claire found herself drawn into the conversation and had learned all about Chloe, the slave who was hanged there for poisoning two children and the wife of the master of the house. Someone in the crowd mentioned that she had heard 106

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the poison was made from oleander leaves from a popular flowering plant found in yards everywhere.

The tour guide joined the group and called their attention to the house. “The Myrtles Plantation was built in 1796 by General David Bradford and carries the dubious distinction of being one of the most haunted plantation homes in America. According to legend, the house is built on an ancient Indian burial ground. No less than ten murders have been committed here.”

The guide drew their attention to the intricate ironwork that surrounded the veranda. Claire poked Tristan in the ribs, causing her to jump. She giggled as Tristan spun around to glare at her.

Claire raised both hands in the air. “I didn’t do it. Are your pants still dry?” The antics started a whole new round of giggles from both of them, despite the glances they received from the rest of the group.

Tristan paid more attention to the beautiful old live oaks and the grounds, while Claire looked up at each window hoping to get a glimpse of something or someone peering back. Occasionally, they would glance at one another and wink as the guide told stories of ghostly children wandering and playing on the grounds.

As they entered the foyer, Claire and the rest of the group admired the three hundred fifty-pound Baccarat crystal chandelier that graced the entrance. “Oh, Tristan, look how beautiful.”

Tristan yawned. “What’s the big deal? It’s just like the one in our dining room,” Tristan said a little louder than she intended. The entire group turned around and looked at her, including Claire.

Tristan shrugged. “Wow, tough room. It was a joke, people.” She and Claire burst into another fit of laughter. They decided to hang back from the group since they were having such a hard time behaving.

Pamphlet in hand, they decided to conduct their own tour. “Tris, it says here that this grand piano plays by itself in the night until someone comes into the room. The ghost apparently plays the same chord over and over. Wouldn’t that just piss you off at some point? I wonder if you requested something by Elton John if it would give it a whirl.”

Their next point of interest was a portrait of a man that had been said to change facial expressions and his eyes would follow a 107

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person around the room. Both women stared at the portrait intently, waiting for something to happen.

“I think he is kind of smiling,” Tristan declared after a moment of intense study.

“You do? I think he looks a little sad. I dare you to fart and see if his nose twitches,” Claire said as she studied the portrait while walking backwards to see if the eyes moved.

Tristan scratched her head. “How old are we again?” They both acknowledged that their humor was crass and juvenile, which made them laugh all the more.

They meandered through the home, admiring and commenting on various antique pieces. Both were equally impressed with the plaster ceiling medallions, none of which were the same. Claire admired the antique furniture found in each of the rooms. Antiques did not impress Tristan, but she followed the blonde dutifully as she roamed from room to room of the beautifully decorated old house.

Claire frowned. “I wish we brought a camera with us. We might have captured a ghost on film.”

“I’m not much for taking pictures. I always seem to forget to bring a camera with me, and when I do remember, I get so into what I’m looking at that I forget to use it. Matter of fact, I don’t even own a camera anymore,” Tristan said ruefully.

The ghostly aura was accentuated by moss-laden live oaks that swayed on the breeze, casting shadows. Tristan walked about the grounds, commenting on different plants and trees. Claire walked beside her, but her eyes were drawn to the house. She had hoped to see something unexplainable but had been disappointed thus far.

She was staring up into the windows when she caught her foot on a tree root protruding from the ground. She stumbled forward and nearly fell to the ground before Tristan caught and steadied her.

In all the confusion, they didn’t notice the man dressed in clothes that appeared to be from the 1800s approaching them. “Careful, Miss” were the only words he spoke. He smiled and walked past them toward the house.

When he was out of sight, Tristan pulled Claire close and kissed her. “I have been waiting to do that all day.”

Claire gave Tristan one of her most seductive looks. “Don’t do that again unless you want to be rolling around in the shrubs.”

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“As tempting as that may sound, I cannot do it with ghosts watching. I’m sure I’ll have performance anxiety. Besides, I am willing to wait for a nice big soft bed ... or the kitchen table. I’m not that particular,” Tristan said, wiggling her brows suggestively.

“Well then, we need to be going!” Claire grabbed Tristan by the arm and nearly dragged her to the parking lot. As they drove down the driveway back to Highway 61, they noticed the same man who had spoken to them earlier. He waved as they passed, then seemed to vanish into the mist. Claire was not sure if she was seeing things or not. She stared at the spot where he had been as Tristan drove down the drive.

“Did you see that?” Claire exclaimed.

Tristan slowed to a stop. “See what? Did I run over a squirrel or something?”

Claire stared out the window confused. “I thought I saw that guy we passed earlier. He was standing right over there, then he just disappeared.”

“Funny, Claire, real funny.” They drove on, and Claire tried to no avail to convince Tristan that she really did see the man disappear.

The old groundskeeper laughed hysterically at Claire’s facial expression. He had been scaring the hell out of people for years pulling that stunt. He always looked forward to the fog rolling in late in the afternoon. The look on Claire’s face would have him laughing well into the night.

As they left the city limits of St. Francisville, Claire drifted off to sleep, leaving Tristan alone with her thoughts. Tristan glanced over at the slumbering blonde and wondered what it was about this woman that captured her so. She conjured feelings in Tristan that she thought were impossible for her to have. Not only did Tristan physically desire Claire, but she also hungered just to be in her presence. It occurred to her that she actually craved her company, something she had never experienced before.

Love is fleeting played through Tristan’s mind. It was a dangerous thing giving this woman her heart, and what if she broke it? She was torn between the feelings of elation and fear. If one day Claire rejected her, Tristan wondered if she would be able to recover from such a blow.

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Tristan lit up a cigarette and rolled down the window a bit to ventilate the truck. She glanced quickly at Claire, hoping that she had not woken her. Confirming that Claire was still asleep, Tristan stole another glance at her and silently mused to herself. “What have you done to me, Claire? I don’t know if I should do this.

You’re the only woman I have ever met who has made me feel like a real person, someone who could be loved.”

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