Southern Comfort (5 page)

Well, give him extra points for getting right to the point.

“Why should I?” Again she didn’t bother to open her eyes. She kept her head back, trying to relax as much as she could while she waited on Oskar.

Okay, the truth of the matter was she had a hard time relaxing at any time of the day. She had too many responsibilities to let her guard down much and at the end of the day it was hard to let it go at all. But hopefully soon Gerald would ask her to marry him, and Aunt Bitty would agree to go live in Meadowbrook, and by some miracle Aubie would become as mature in all matters as he was in matters of city affairs. But until then …

“Hey, I’m a nice guy. I mean, what’s wrong with me? You were nicer to those two lumps at the gym than you are to me.”

Natalie pushed herself upright in the big wooden rocker and finally turned to look at him. “I’ve known those two lumps my entire life. We started kindergarten together. And as far as being nice to you, I’ve been nothing but cordial to you ever since you got here.”

“Wow, you are uptight.”

“I am most certainly not uptight.” He’d hit a nerve, but there was no way that she was agreeing to his assessment of her. He didn’t know anything about her. He didn’t know what she did every day and how she managed to keep everybody’s lives in order. He didn’t know what kind of effort and energy it took to make sure that things got done. Or that she was the only one who could do it. The last Coleman left that had sense enough to make sure that the fortune was kept intact.

“So you’re not uptight. Got it.” She heard him chuckle, and the sound went right through her.

“I don’t see what’s so funny. You’re the one here searching for a ghost. And yet I don’t see any ghost searching equipment.”

“I beg your pardon?” This time his voice turned from filled with humor to a little on edge. Good, that’s exactly how she wanted him.

“I did some research today, Mr. Tran. And I know that there are all sorts of ghost-hunting equipment. So if you are serious about hunting this ghost, why don’t you have any of those plasmatic meters or those temperature gauges that show that the spirit is in the room, huh?”

He didn’t seem so confident then. And Natalie wondered if she had hit her own nerve with Newland Tran.

“So just because I don’t have some sort of meter or temperature gauge you think I’m a fake?”

“You said it. Not me.”

“I came here because your aunt told me a story, and I believed her. You’re the one who doesn’t. So I don’t need plasmatic meters and gauges that check temperature and all of the other things that these people on TV think a person needs to hunt ghosts. I have the word of a beautiful lady who assures me that the last Thursday of the month a ghost will appear. We should see him next week, and that’s all the proof I need.”

Tran stood and stretched out his legs. Natalie was torn between standing just so he wouldn’t tower over her and just sitting back and waiting to see what he would do next.

He started down the porch steps.

“Where you going?” Natalie almost slapped a hand over her mouth. What business was it of hers where he was going? Except that she felt a little responsible for him since he was here, staying in her aunt’s house.

He turned and shot her a grin. In the dying light of the day she couldn’t tell if it was mischievous or just a grin. “I’m going over to the cemetery. You want to come with me?”

Natalie shook her head, then thought better of it. “Okay.” She stood and started down the porch steps after him.

The old cemetery sat behind her aunt’s house and took up most of the back side of the block. It was an old cemetery, the kind in horror films with a wrought-iron fence made of spear-shaped posts and a creaky old gate that led inside. And she had never, ever gone into the cemetery. Not even in daylight. So what made her think it was a good idea to do so at sundown? And with a man like Newland Tran?

“What do you expect to see here?”

He didn’t stop walking as he answered. “I don’t know. But it seems like the best place to start if this is where the ghost usually is.”

“There is no ghost.”

Newland stopped and whirled around to face her.

Natalie came to an abrupt halt as well, craning her neck back to look at him.

“Let’s get one thing straight right now. You don’t believe in the ghost. I do. So let’s just agree to disagree. Every time I mention the ghost, how about you not deny his existence? Then come the last Thursday of the month, we’ll see. Okay?”

Natalie nodded mutely. She supposed that was the least she could do. She had to keep up with Newland, find out what he was doing and make sure he didn’t take advantage of her aunt and steal them all blind. If that meant admitting there was a ghost, or at the very least not denying the ghost, then she should do that.

“Good.” He turned back around and started toward the cemetery once again.

The grave markers were old, some of them dating well before the War Between the States. A few were barely legible, while others seemed to have somehow escaped the erosion, still showing off names, dates, and relationships the person had enjoyed in his or her life. Several of the stones had sunk in recent years leaving them drunkenly crooked, turning this way and that as they tilted toward the earth.

“So do you think the ghost is buried here?”

She could do this, Natalie coached herself. “He might’ve been at one time.” See, that wasn’t so hard.

“What do you mean at one time?”

Natalie walked over to one grave, staring at the arched tombstone with its eroded etching. “Back in the ’60s, I think it was. Not that I remember or anything. They came through and exhumed a lot of the Confederate soldiers from cemeteries like this. Some of them had even been buried out in the open on people’s land and property and things. One farmer had three graves in his pasture. They dug them up and took them to the national cemetery.”

“They?”

“The government. They decided that the Confederate soldiers deserved as much respect for fighting for their beliefs as the Union soldiers did fighting for theirs. So they exhumed their bodies and took them to a national cemetery. Some went up to Shiloh, some over to Corinth. There’s a big cemetery there, you know. Anyway, the ones that were buried here were dug up and taken elsewhere. So if he had been buried here before, he’s not here now.” She pointed to an indentation in the earth, almost like a shallow hole dug in between two graves. There was no stone marker, yet she knew that it had been there once upon a time. “Like there.”

Newland walked over to look at the indention in the earth. He studied it from this angle and that, and Natalie wondered what he was looking for. It was nothing more than a hole. At least now that’s all it was. Once upon a time it had been a grave.

“So why would a Confederate soldier hang out in a graveyard where he wasn’t buried?”

“Why does a Confederate ghost do anything?” She quoted her aunt.

Newland chuckled. And Natalie liked the sound. Wait. No, she didn’t. The sound was neutral. It didn’t dance upon her skin like the wind at night. It was just a chuckle.

“So why do you think he shows up the last Thursday of the month?”

Natalie thought about it a minute. She had no idea why a ghost would haunt a cemetery one night of the month. Again, further proof that there was no ghost and there was no haunting, but she had said she would play along, and she would. “Maybe that was the day he died?”

He nodded. “Or the day he was buried?”

“What about the day he was exhumed?”

“All good theories,” Newland said.

Despite the fact that it was May in Mississippi, a cold wind blew through. Natalie shuddered. Ghost or no ghost, being in an old cemetery after dark was a little creepy.

“So do you have what you need? Can we go back now?”

He turned to study her with those dark eyes. “You’re not scared, are you?”

Natalie somehow kept her teeth from chattering. Okay, so she was scared. But she wasn’t admitting that to him. “Of course not. There’s no ghost, remember?”

Tran nodded. “I was just fixing to remind you of that fact.”

“Fixing?” she asked. “Did you just say ‘fixing to’?”

He nodded and despite the dwindling light she could almost see a blush rise to his cheeks. “I spent some time in Tennessee last year.”

“I see,” Natalie said. So Mr. Chicago had spent time in Tennessee. Enough time that he picked up a little bit of the slang. Maybe he wasn’t all bad. “What brought you to Tennessee?”

Tran winced. “It’s sort of complicated, but you could say a girl, a murder charge, and a story about Elvis.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

The two of them laughed.

“Seriously, though, can we go back now?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Newland said the word, but he made no move to leave the cemetery. Instead he turned away from her and looked at the lot as a whole.

Natalie tried to imagine it from his point of view. She had seen it time after time over the course of her life. And it never changed, except maybe a few of the graves were a little deeper and a couple of the tombstones were a little more slanted, but there were no new graves here, no new tombstones. They were all weathered and beaten, most of the graves slightly overgrown with weeds and grass. There were no flowers, no flags, no mourners for these ancient deceased.

A large oak tree stood at one end of the cemetery, and Natalie wondered if the mighty oak’s roots had caused the tilting of the tombstones closest to it. Despite the majestic oak’s beauty, somehow the big tree lent an eerie air to the place.

“What’s that over there?” Newland pointed to a spot on the other side of the tree.

Natalie couldn’t see it from her angle and stepped a little closer to him to get a better view.

Mistake. The closer she got to Newland Tran the more he was like a magnet, pulling her in. He was scruffy and rough looking, his hair a little too long and his clothes a little too disheveled, but he smelled good. Like manly aftershave and fabric softener. On the outside he might appear rough around the edges, but he took care of himself. She tried not to breathe in that smell and instead focused on the spot where he pointed.

A mound of dirt lurked on the other side of the oak tree just barely inside the iron fence. It was so far off to one side and so far to the back of the lot, that she would have missed it had he not pointed it out to her.

“It looks like … ” She didn’t want to say the words. She swallowed hard. “It looks like a new grave.”

“I thought you said the cemetery has been closed for decades.”

Natalie nodded. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been closed. Aubie probably can. He’s something of a historian for the town. Him and Gerald.”

Newland turned toward her. “Gerald? Who’s that?”

The cool night air stung her heated cheeks. “Gerald Davenport. He’s my fiancé. Well, almost. I mean, boyfriend. He’s my boyfriend.”

Newland’s eyes narrowed. “I see. And why would he know something about that grave or the cemetery?”

“He’s part of the historical society here in town. In fact, he’s the chairman of the society.”

“I see.”

“Yes.” Natalie started rambling, a sure sign that she was nervous. “You see, Aunt Bitty’s house is not part of the historical tour, though it should be. I’ve been trying to get it on the national historic registry for years. That’s how I met Gerald.” As much as she tried to stem the flow of words, they just kept coming. “He’s the chairman of the local historical society, and I’ve been trying to engage his help to get the national organization interested in Aunt Bitty’s house. It was built long before the war. I’m sure she told you.” She stopped to take a breath.

“She did mention something to that fact,” Newland said. “But if her house was built so long ago, why isn’t it on the historic registry already?”

“It was built by a Northern sympathizer.” She shrugged. “Some wounds take a long time to heal.”

Natalie looked around, the wind kicking up and blowing her hair. At least it was pulled back and out of her face. She was still able to see anything if it was coming. Not that there was. Because she didn’t believe in ghosts. “You want to head back to the house?”

“I’d like to look at this big mound of dirt first.”

“Of course you would.” Natalie nodded. “Okay, I’ll wait for you here.”

He nodded and started off toward the oak tree.

Natalie hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten. The only reason she could see Newland was because he had taken out his cell phone and was using his flashlight app to lead the way. Where she was standing, it was totally dark. And her cell phone was all the way back at the house.

She could barely see two feet in front of her own face. Well, two feet and then Newland.

The wind brushed her again and set Natalie into action. “Hold up, Newland. I’m coming. You’re not going to discover all this great evidence without me.”

She thought she heard him chuckle, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she started off toward the flashlight, thankful that she had put on walking shoes before she had come out here. Any of her normal footwear would be sinking into the soft ground. The thought made her shudder.

She finally drew even with Newland. He was standing near a mound of dirt half covered with a black tarp.

“Where do you suppose the dirt came from?” Newland shined his flashlight around, but there was no new digging near any of the graves close to them, though one of them looked to be a little bit deeper than the others. Still, it had a headstone, which as far she was concerned meant somebody was buried there and it was completely off-limits.

“I don’t know. I guess that’s a mystery for the ages. Come on. Let’s go back to the house. Now.” She grabbed his arm, tugging him toward the cemetery entrance. They were so far away from the gate now that it would definitely be completely dark—super dark—by the time they got out and back onto the sidewalk.

But Newland was too strong and barely moved as she jerked on his elbow to get him to follow her. “It just doesn’t make sense. The dirt had to come from somewhere.”

Natalie looked over to the mound. It was a big mound. Bigger than what would be there if somebody had dug a new grave.