Page 38 of The Women of Wild Hill

“I see,” Calum said, though it was clear that he didn’t.

“I’ve never loved anyone outside my family before. I didn’t think I could. I thought my job was to find fathers for my children. I never imagined falling for someone.” Flora looked around as though committing the beach to memory. “What we have here is perfect.”

“Why can’t it be just as perfect on the East Coast?”

Flora pulled in a deep breath. “I don’t know. Wild Hill does strange things to people.”

“You act like it’s haunted.”

“It is,” she told him. “By a witch who was murdered in the seventeenth century.”

Calum laughed. “Even better! Look, if two territorial teenage girls can’t scare me off, then what hope does a ghost have?”

This time, Flora laughed along with him.

He caught the last of her tears with his thumb and rubbed them away. “What I know is that the two of us were brought together for a reason. You know it’s true, too.”

“I do,” she said.

“We share the same path now. If it takes you to Wild Hill, then I go, too. You and the girls fly out tonight. I’ll close up the house and find someone to care for the animals. Then I’ll join you in a few days. How does that sound?”

Flora put her head on his shoulder. “It sounds wonderful,” she said.

“OKAY, AT WHAT POINT DOES this guy start being an asshole?” Sibyl asked.

“What are you talking about? He called us territorial,” Phoebe argued.

“I’m starting to wonder if maybe we were the assholes,” Brigid said.

Phoebe wasn’t buying it. “Just wait.”

FLORA LAY ASLEEP IN ONE of the bedrooms in the caretaker’s cottage.

“Wake up, my dear,” said a familiar voice.

Flora opened her eyes to see Ivy in a nearby chair, looking only slightly less solid than she had before she died. Flora quickly sat up in bed. Visits from the ancestors were to be taken very seriously. Their ghosts rarely made themselves known. The living needed to lead their own lives.

“What is it?” Flora asked.

“There’s a man at the gate. He’s here to see you. It looks as though he intends to stay.”

“You don’t approve?”

“My approval is of no consequence,” Ivy told her grandniece. “I assume you know the risk you’re running. Quite a few men have died on Wild Hill, and none have ever been able to live here.”

“My father was on Wild Hill all the time,” Flora reminded her grandaunt.

“Your father never slept here,” Ivy responded. “And Bessie adored him. Levi was an exceptional human being.”

“So is Calum,” Flora argued. Then she didn’t seem quite as certain. “Will Wild Hill change him?”

Ivy shook her head. “No. It never changes people. It reduces them to their essence. It makes everyone who comes here more of who they are.”

Smiling at the thought, Flora climbed out of bed and pulled on a dress. “Then I’m not worried.” She paused and turned back to her grandaunt. “Should I be?”

“I don’t know,” Ivy told her. “But you can be sure of one thing. The truth will out.”

“OMINOUS,” SAID PHOEBE AS THEY watched Flora sprint out of the house to meet Calum at the gate. “I guess I was right after all.”

“You know, bitter isn’t a good look on you,” Sibyl replied as Flora threw herself into Calum’s arms. They hadn’t been apart more than three days, but apparently it had felt like forever.

“And I always thought it was just a sex thing,” Brigid muttered.

FLORA GUIDED CALUM DOWN THE drive. He seemed suitably bowled over by the sight of the wild gardens, sweeping lawns, and vine-covered marble mansion.

The tour ended at the four granite rocks that stood at the crest of Wild Hill, looking out over the sound. The one closest to them bore the name Ivy and the dirt that stretched out in front of it was still fresh.

“These are my ancestors’ graves,” she told him. “If they don’t like you, you might get struck by a bolt of lightning.”

Calum glanced up at the cloudless sky. “Then I promise to be on my best behavior.” He turned toward the ocean. “What’s that down there?” he asked, pointing to a strip of land in the distance.

“Oh, that’s Culling Pointe. If you can believe it, someone just shipped an old house all the way from France and reassembled it as a gift for his girlfriend.”

Calum slid an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “Someday I’d like to give you a house from France.”

“Just don’t build it on Culling Pointe,” Flora joked. “That land has been cursed for nearly four hundred years.”

“CULLING POINTE,” SIBYL REPEATED. “WHERE Bessie was hanged.”

“Four hundred years later, a billionaire named Leonard Shaw bought the land and started a sex ring that was abusing and killing young women,” Brigid added. “All the houses burned down, and the billionaire died in the fire.”

“Okay, that’s pretty fucking ominous,” Sibyl finally agreed.

“And there it is again,” Phoebe said. “Culling Pointe.” The visions were arriving faster now, as though building to a crescendo.

FLORA AND CALUM WERE WALKING down the road that ran alongside Danskammer Beach when a convertible Mercedes pulled up beside them. It was a lovely, clear day, and the Pointe was visible in the distance.

“Calum! I thought that was you!”

The voice had a magical effect on Calum. His posture stiffened and his chest went out. Calum walked up to the car and Flora followed. A man their age sat in the driver’s seat.

“Flora, this is my old partner, James. James Calder, my girlfriend, Flora.”

“Nice to meet you, Flora,” James said. “I knew you’d land on your feet, Geddes.”

Flora smiled awkwardly. Something about the scenario confused her. She stared at Calum as though she didn’t quite recognize him. He was different in the presence of other men.

“I always do. What are you doing out this way?” Calum asked.

“Just bought some property out on the Pointe. You?”

“I’ve been staying with Flora. She owns an estate here called Wild Hill.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that!” said James. “The one with the old abandoned mansion. In the winter, you can see it from Culling Pointe. It’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” said Flora.

“Well, speaking of gorgeous buildings, I’m late to meet with my architect,” James told them. “But I’ll be around this season. Come down and say hi if you’re up for it.”

“Will do,” Calum told him, slapping the car with his palm.

“Listen, I really am glad you’re doing so well,” James said earnestly. “You seem much more mellow. Island life suits you.”

Calum’s face went slack as the man drove away.

“I didn’t expect him to be so friendly,” Flora remarked. “I thought you said he was evil incarnate.”

“He’s very charming,” Calum agreed. “That’s how he wins you over before he screws you.”

“How did he manage to turn all your investors against you? You never told me.”

Calum’s eyes remained focused on the car in the distance. “It’s not a very good story,” he said. Then he looked at her. “Maybe we should hire an architect to come out and look at the mansion? If all the assholes on the Pointe are going to be staring up at us, we should probably give it some TLC.”

“OH SHIT,” SAID SIBYL. “HE wants to fuck with Bessie’s mansion? That’s a bad sign.”

“Oh shit, indeed,” Brigid echoed when the next vision arrived.

She and Phoebe both recognized it as the day the pipe had burst.

That morning, Flora had cycled into Mattauk to run errands. Shortly after, Calum started a load of clothes. As the washing machine filled with water, a hose ruptured. He didn’t catch it until the basement of the caretaker’s cottage had flooded.

Flora couldn’t be reached, so Calum made an executive decision to call a plumber in Mattauk.

Once the water had been pumped out of the basement, the repairman went to the cellar to check out the damage.

He barely made it down the stairs before he was back up again.

The girls had arrived home just in time to see the man rush to his truck.

They remembered Calum running out to the drive as the repairman spun the truck around, sending gravel flying. “Where the hell are you going? What’s happening?” Calum had shouted.

Brigid and Phoebe could still recall the man rolling his window down a few inches. “You got a body buried in the cellar,” he said. “I saw a foot poking up through the floor. I’m going to get the cops.” That was the last anyone ever saw of him.

NOW FLORA WAS RIDING HER bike through the open gates of Wild Hill.

Farther down the drive, rotating red and white lights were painting the trees.

As she drew closer, she could see cop cars parked in front of the caretaker’s cottage.

Calum, Brigid, and Phoebe were all standing outside, watching the police stream in and out of the house.

Flora reached the house and hopped off her bike, and the girls ran up to her.

“What happened?” Flora asked.

“Is this your house?” A police officer was approaching. His badge read Rocca.

“It is,” she replied warily.

“Were you aware that there are bodies buried in your basement?”

“Bodies?” Flora’s knees wobbled briefly.

“We’ve found two so far.”

“No,” Flora answered the question truthfully. “I wasn’t aware. I just inherited the property earlier this month. My daughters and I had nothing to do with it.”

“The three of you aren’t suspects,” Officer Rocca informed her. “One of the men has identification on him that’s almost a hundred years old. The other body isn’t much younger. They’ve been buried down there since before you were born. Do you happen to recognize the name Charles Campbell?”

“I do,” Flora admitted. She’d heard her mother and Ivy speak of him when she was younger. He’d apparently been quite unpleasant. “Charles Campbell was my great-great-uncle. I was told that he disappeared early in the twentieth century.”

“Well, I guess we just found out where he went,” said the cop. “Any idea who the other man might be?”

“No,” Flora said.

The cop nodded. “We’re going to need to search the rest of the basement for other bodies. While that’s happening, the house will be a crime scene. You got somewhere else you can stay for the next few days?”