Page 14 of The Unseen

L UCAS PHONED D ARLA AFTER HE RETURNED FROM HIS LUNCH IN Thibodaux. He explained what he had discovered and told her he believed the spirits she was encountering were the ghosts of soldiers killed in a Civil War battle near her home.

They arranged to meet Wednesday night. Next he phoned Grandmere, then Nicole, to finalize the plan.

“Everything’s all set?” Nicole asked.

Lucas felt a pulse of desire at the sound of her voice, which made him think of warm nights and satin sheets.

“When you’re working with the paranormal, nothing is ever set. But we’re scheduled to be in Denham Springs late tomorrow night.”

“Are you picking me up, or am I meeting you there?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“All right, then. So, why don’t you come over early and I’ll cook you supper?”

He hadn’t liked the idea of taking her into an unknown situation, but the evening was suddenly sounding better.

“What can I bring?” he asked.

“Just your smiling face … and … maybe a bottle of red wine?”

He didn’t drink while he was working, but in this case, Grandmere would be doing the work. “My pleasure. Seven o’clock okay?”

“Perfect, I’ll see you then.”

Wednesday afternoon seemed to drag, but now he was driving down the gravel lane that led to Belle Reve, continuing a little past the big white-columned mansion, stopping in front of the carriage house. Since he was coming directly from the center, he was driving his Jeep.

Lucas grabbed the bottle of Cabernet out from behind the seat and headed for the front door. Nicole pulled it open before he had time to knock.

“Hi,” she said, smiling. “Come on in.”

He held up the bottle and she took it from his hand as he walked past her into the living room.

She was wearing a pair of black stretch jeans, sandals, and an off-the-shoulder white silk blouse. As she moved, her fiery hair swirled like flames around her shoulders.

His groin tightened. Lucas tried not to wonder how long it would take him to strip her out of the clothes she looked so good in. No, he definitely wasn’t a saint.

“Something smells delicious,” he said.

“Nothing too exciting. Roast chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy. I made a salad and Aunt Rachel made a cherry pie. She’s bringing some of it over after supper for our dessert.”

“Sean introduced me to your aunt at the gallery opening. We only spoke briefly, but I could tell how proud she was of you.”

“I love her very much.”

“I’d say the feeling is mutual.”

Nicole looked at him across the kitchen counter. “Aunt Rachel is in very ill health, Lucas. She has a rare form of muscular dystrophy. It’s one of the reasons keeping the house is so important. Rachel loves Belle Reve. I’m not sure she could survive anywhere else.”

“Then you’ll have to make sure she keeps it.”

Nicole smiled, and he wanted to kiss that wide, smiling mouth. He knew the taste of her, the feel of her womanly curves pressed against him. He wanted more.

“I’m not exactly sure what’s going on with her,” Nicole continued. “She seems a little off somehow. I’m worried about her.”

He frowned, his thoughts turning serious. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t know. You were a chaplain and a priest. I could mention it, see what she says.”

He would help if he could. It seemed to be his calling. As Nicole worked in the kitchen, Lucas wandered around the living room. He recognized the painting sitting on an easel in the corner, the dark landscape Nicole had been working on out by the pond.

She walked up beside him as he studied the canvas, which now contained a faint image, the face of a man standing next to the water.

In the painting, which was completely done in grays, browns, and blacks, the face had a distinctive pair of brilliant blue eyes.

It was the only color on the canvas. The results were startling.

“Looks like your painting has taken an interesting turn. Good-looking man. Should I be jealous?”

She sighed. “No idea who that is. It’s strange, I know. I’m not sure whether to stop and move on to something else or keep going.”

Lucas heard soft footfalls approaching from behind them, and turned to see the tall, willowy figure of Rachel Belmond, a foil-covered pie tin in her hand. She took one look at the painting, shrieked in terror, and dropped the pie, which landed upside down on the rug.

“Aunt Rachel!” Nicole rushed toward her as she fainted into Lucas’s arms.

“Put her on the sofa,” Nicole instructed. “I’ll call the doctor.” As she pulled out her cell and hit the doctor’s contact button, Rachel’s eyes fluttered open.

She took a shaky breath. “Please don’t … Please don’t call him.” Rachel struggled to sit up on the sofa and Nicole ended the call to help her. “I’m—I’m all right,” Rachel said. “It was just such a shock.”

Nicole sat down on the edge of the sofa next to her aunt and picked up her pale, fine-boned hand.

“What’s going on, Aunt Rachel? What frightened you so badly?”

“Your painting.” Her gaze went to the canvas sitting on the easel. “It’s—It’s … him.”

“Who?” Nicole looked back at her artwork. “Him? You mean the man in the painting? I have no idea who that is. I was just working on the canvas, and the image popped into my head.”

Rachel sat up a little straighter on the sofa. “I thought I was going crazy. I told myself I had to see someone, talk to someone. A psychiatrist, maybe, or someone else. But now …”

Nicole squeezed her aunt’s slender fingers. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

Rachel raked back her long black hair with a trembling hand. “At first, I thought it was a dream. He came to me while I was sleeping. I thought … I thought …” Color washed into her cheeks and she glanced away.

“Just take your time,” Nicole said.

“At night, I could hear him in my room. I was frightened at first, but then I realized I was only dreaming. There was nothing to be afraid of.”

“Are these the dreams we talked about?” Nicole asked, thinking of the erotic dreams her aunt had mentioned.

Rachel glanced down at the hands she clasped in her lap and nodded. “Yes. Then two days ago, I was pulling weeds out in the cemetery, and I heard his voice. It was the same voice I had heard in my dreams—only this time, I wasn’t asleep. It was the middle of the day.”

Rachel looked at Nicole. “He spoke to me that day. His name is Francois Villard. I wasn’t sure what he looked like, but he had the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen.” She pointed with a trembling hand. “He’s there … in your painting. That’s Francois.” Rachel burst into tears.

Nicole knelt on the floor in front of the sofa. “It’s all right, Aunt Rachel. We’ll figure everything out.”

Lucas found a box of Kleenex in the bathroom, brought it into the living room, and pressed a tissue into Rachel’s hand.

Nicole glanced at him over her shoulder as she spoke to her aunt. “Lucas is here. He knows about these things.”

Rachel’s tear-filled gaze locked with his. “I pray that you believe me, Lucas. Francois is real—and he needs our help.”

The chicken was overcooked, the mashed potatoes too dry. Lucas helped Nicole clean the pie mess off the carpet.

“I don’t think I should leave her,” she said as the hours slipped past.

“I think you’re right. You probably ought to stay in the big house with her tonight.”

Rachel overheard them talking. “That isn’t necessary. I’m feeling fine now. Seeing his face was just such a shock.”

They walked her across the gravel drive to the house, and Nicole helped her get settled upstairs in her bedroom. Lucas was waiting at the bottom of the staircase when Nicole finally came back down.

“Looks like I’m going with you after all,” she said.

“What about Rachel?”

“Physically, she seems to be all right. She insists I go. I think … she wants to be alone in case Francois comes to her tonight.”

“Comes to her in a dream?”

“Sort of.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Looks like there’s more to the story than I know. You think she’ll be okay?”

“As she pointed out while we were upstairs, she’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need me to make decisions for her.”

Lucas grinned. “I like your aunt. Let’s go.”

On the drive to Darla’s house, they talked about what had happened to Rachel, and her story of the ghostly visitor she had encountered in the family cemetery.

“Do you believe her?” Lucas asked.

“I believe she believes it. I’m trying to keep an open mind.”

“You’ll need it where we’re going tonight.”

Nicole mulled that over. Lucas seemed to have no problem believing her aunt’s tale.

“The timing is interesting,” Nicole said.

“On Saturday, I got a visit from the sheriff. He came to Belle Reve to talk to me about a box of old bones some kids dug up out on the bayou. They have a forensic anthropologist working on them. Sheriff Loewen says the bones are at least a hundred fifty years old, Caucasian male, thirty-five to fifty years of age, definitely from this area. The sheriff’s looking for any information that might help them figure out who the skeletal remains belong to. ”

“The bones have surfaced, and now your aunt is encountering a spirit. You’re right, the timing is interesting.”

“I haven’t told her yet. I don’t want to upset her any more than she already is. I’m not sure what I should do.”

“Why don’t we talk to her together?”

Relief trickled through her. Lucas would be there. He had once been a priest; he would know what to say. Still, she wasn’t sure any of this was real, but Rachel was convinced.

Nicole looked over at Lucas. “That would be great,” she said.