Author: Dale Wiley
Category: Thriller
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/dale-wiley/page,6,457982-southern_gothic.html
“Hold on. I’m coming,” It had to be Leah.
It wasn’t Leah. I opened the door and saw something almost out of a painting—a lovely young woman. Lovely didn’t do her justice. Delicate and pale and blonde with a plain white dress and a red ribbon in her hair. She stared at me as if I knew her. But I couldn’t have forgotten anyone so achingly beautiful.
Chapter 15
“How did you sleep?” Michael asked as he made Meredith breakfast.
Just some pancakes and bacon but so alien for a woman whose most romantic history had been the occasional trip to Lowe’s with the hubby.
“I’m afraid my nomadic ways make it difficult to sleep in a new place,” Michael said, massaging his neck.
Meredith wanted to flirt, but she couldn’t figure out how to get back in the swing of things. Instead, she went the practical route. “I’m sorry you didn’t have much to work with food-wise. I cook more at the bookstore than I do here.”
“I meant to mention it to you.” He put the finishing touches on some scrambled eggs. “Your store really is wonderful. After all, it has every one of my books.” Michael laughed loudly.
“When did you come into the store? And how did I miss you?”
“You wouldn’t have thought to look for me. I’ve been in there a couple of times over the last month.”
She frowned. “How long have you been staying in Savannah?”
“Just a few weeks before I reached out to you.” He looked down and shrugged like all of this was normal. “Since I finished with your novel.”
Meredith wondered how much she wanted to know the answers to the questions she asked. Meeting this man had certainly been much more than she expected. “Where have you been staying?”
“Not far.” He nodded in the direction of the historic circles, where there were plenty of nice hotels.
“Any chance you did a little reading last night?” he asked hopefully.
“Just some new work by my favorite author,” she said playfully.
“You mean yourself?” He grinned and said with mock surprise, reaching out to tap her gently on her forearm.
“I haven’t finished yet, but this experiment has undoubtedly shown me the difference between good and great.”
“Thank you,” he said.
She expected him to needle her, to tell her she couldn’t have done it without him. Instead, he made her a breakfast plate, seemingly doing anything to avoid eye contact.
“Why did you use my novel? You never seem to lack for a good plot.”
Michael scratched his chin. “I have plenty of other ideas for books, but disappearing can get pretty lonely and I thought perhaps I should take on a pupil.”
Meredith’s heart raced. To be a student of the great Michael Black would be a dream come true.
“Quinn’s father and those deputies put me through the ringer. Wanted to charge me with murder. It’s not going to go away.”
“Where have you been?”
“All over the place. There’s a couple of old biddies who are big fans in Lausanne, Switzerland, so I spent a fair amount of time there. It’s easier to blend in when I’m out of the country. I’ve spent more time than I care to in Europe.”
“Come on. I’m sure the disaffected act works with some of your ladies, but it sounds pretty fabulous to me.”
“Just not my cup of tea. I like the way we mix it up over here. But there are a lot more people who know my face here, so it’s easier to stay hidden abroad.”
“You’re pretty good at it. I mean, your biggest fan missed you, two times, in her own store,” she said.
“You were busy. You’ve got a business to run.”
“Still. Makes you wonder how vigilant we actually are.”
“Why don’t you stay home and read today.” The beginnings of a smile peeked out from behind his coffee cup.
Meredith wanted to burst into song. A day off from work with her favorite author would be heaven. Her staff could more than handle running the store without her. She grabbed her phone and texted Nate.
Hey. Having a skip day. Can you believe it? Need to catch up with some things. The place will run fine without me, right?
She put the phone back down and returned to the table with a smile. “This feels like hooky. I haven’t taken a day off in a long time.”
“My whole life feels like hooky,” Michael said. “This feels real to me.”
Meredith pushed the hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “I’m flattered.”
Michael took the dishes to the sink. He turned back to Meredith. “Why are you here by yourself? Why haven’t you found someone else?”
Meredith stood and shook her head. She met him at the sink and stood a little too close to him while he finished washing. “I’m not interested in ‘someone else.’ I want the right one, or no one. I’m happy where I am.” She met his eyes to make sure he understood.
He looked away. “I’m sorry,” he said, flustered. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just you have so many great qualities.”
Meredith looked puzzled. “Oh, but you’ve just met me. I’m sure a ton of people would tell you otherwise.”
Michael let her have the sink, and moved toward the living room. “How far did you get last night?”
“Not far enough. I wanted to read more, but I fell asleep.”
“Where did you stop?”
“Not long after the embarrassing summer party.”
Michael raised his eyebrows. “So not to the rainstorm yet?”
Meredith searched her memory. “No.”
Michael winked. “You’ll know it when you get there.” He smiled again.
Her cheeks heated at the thought of the rainstorm scene. How much more steamy would he have made it?
She cleared her throat to hide her embarrassment. “Are you glad you went into hiding? I still have to say I don’t really understand why you did everything the way you did.”
“You haven’t had detectives following you to the drug store,” he said. “You haven’t turned a corner and watched the man ahead duck back down the alley. They didn’t have anything on me, but I really believe if I had stayed around, they would have arrested me anyway.”
Meredith shook her head. “They’d never take you in—unless there was a body or evidence you ... did something.”
The sound of the text message startled her. She looked down.
Nate: Sounds great. Enjoy it!
What would he think if he knew she was having breakfast with Michael Black? He was a fan as well but more skeptical about Quinn’s disappearance. He would be worried to death. She looked back at Michael as he continued.
“That’s the problem,” Michael shot back. “I don’t know there isn’t one. Quinn wasn’t old enough to be a stepmother or to deal with a bitter ex-wife. I should have known and never brought her into the situation. But I don’t know she didn’t ... do something rash.”
Meredith shuddered, picturing a lovesick, half-grown child alone and desperately seeking Michael’s love but not knowing what to do in his grown-up world. She had to admit it was not the most far-fetched possibility.
“I’ve read the message boards. The dad despises you.”
Michael nodded and lowered his head. “I’d probably feel the same in his spot.”
“I debated him once or twice, but it seemed crass on my part. I can’t imagine his pain.”
Michael nodded. “At first, I wondered if they were just looking for money. But they don’t need it. It’s just a good, old-fashioned quest for justice.”
“Well, from what I heard, you did quite well with your last contract with Gandolfo-Griffie.”
He smiled. “I don’t ever have to worry about money. And my secret guru has done me good during my sabbatical. I’ve got more money now than when I pulled this little stunt.”
“It’s good to know being on the lam from authorities won’t break you.”
“You know, I didn’t live extravagantly. I still
don’t.”
“I know what the press says. But Michael, I don’t really know you.”
He looked angry for an instant, and then his face softened. He moved a step closer. “You know me. You know my books. You know my intentions. Maybe better than I do myself. I’ve read your website.”
She looked up and caught his eyes. They were mysterious, the color of obsidian.
He chuckled, breaking the tension in the air, and then turned his attention to the bookshelf in the corner. “So, what are you going to do on your big day off?”
“You know what I’m doing. I want to finish your book. And after all, it’s not every day you get to meet the great Michael Black.”
“You want to see it through to completion, huh?” A corny line, but it worked.
She stammered and hated herself for it. “I am just so honored to have the great Michael Black in my humble abode,” she said, bowing and curtseying. “I hope he enjoys the privilege of being with me half as much.”
He gave her a flat look she couldn’t read.
“Michael is enjoying his privileges,” he said.
He held her every emotion as he gazed for longer than she wanted. Then he gave her a half-cocked grin; the gesture mattered far more to her than it should.
RED RIBBON
Chapter Five
The woman gasped and nearly jumped when she saw me at the door. I was clearly not who she was looking for. I think she wanted to run away, but the house was so secluded there was no easy move.
She fumbled around for a second.
“Hi,” I said, embarrassed by how badly I wanted to impress her. “Can I help you?”
She stood there for a second, rubbing her hands like they had a stain. “I ... I ... believe I’m in the wrong place.”
Maybe she was there to see Leah?
“Were you expecting someone else?” I volunteered.
She shook her head and started to walk away, still wringing her hands. “I’ll find my way back,” she said.
I walked her out, impatient to get back to my discoveries. But when she left, I felt an emptiness in my stomach I didn’t think I would feel after I was married. This stranger meant something to me. I went back to the kitchen, still not feeling quite right.
Who knew how long Leah would be gone. I couldn’t wait forever. My discoveries were calling to me, so I decided to pick at the buckle first. After looking it up online, I was convinced it was some sort of boot buckle from the Civil War period. I imagined the officer who might have worn it and how he lost it. My head dreamed up all kinds of scenes—from battlefield valor, to it falling off unnoticed, to illicit battlefield couplings.
I went down the rabbit hole, painstakingly examining my find, considering its meaning. I was so far down I didn’t even notice Leah when she finally arrived.
When I looked up again, I saw Leah peering over my shoulder. I had been so lost in the research I hadn’t even heard her come in. She looked genuinely interested. The mood was so good I decided to skip the story of my visitor. Instead, I told her about the glove.
I touched her face and kissed her, hoping that genuine, white hot passion would return, and Leah would again be my wife in all senses. She kissed me in what I could best describe as polite. It was not going to lead to unceasing passion.
But she was interested in the finds, even despite her protestations. She held the buckle and turned it around, taking a moment to admire the handiwork. She paid careful attention to the glove, memorizing its details and was as much in love with it as I was. After she finished her inspection, she pulled the letter out. It felt much like the other one, dry and dark yellow, with dark brown markings that seemed to scream its age and connection with the war. Leah beamed. I grinned. That spark reappeared for a moment, like a breath we shared, as we waited to know what connection we held. But, sadly, it didn’t take flight. Not like the old days. Instead, we stared at the letter, determined to understand this missive better.
Best as I can remember, here is what it said:
Gen. K – I know you ask for more familiarity, but this is the best I can do. I am treading in unusual circumstances. To ask for more is more than I intend to give.
Do you think they know? They are acting strange. He won’t open up enough for me to be sure, but I fear their knowledge may be more than what we had counted on.
As for your other question, I do not know when we can meet again or where. Last time we were nearly found out. I think a face-to-face meeting would be much too risky now.
Yours truly,
C
I say “as best I can remember” because the words lasted but a second before our eyes. Before we even knew we needed to commit them to memory, they were gone, except for that same confident C.
Chapter 16
Meredith went back upstairs and started reading. Her breath slowed, and she fell back into the plot. Chapter Six saw another violent outburst from Leah, one which put her in the hospital. Just as she finished the chapter, she heard a paper being shoved underneath her door. She smirked a little as she retrieved the note, covered in the same angular hand.
Meredith:
Confession time.
I have found you intoxicating for the better part of a decade.
I know it sounds crazy, or maybe even creepy, but after you sent me your manuscript, I watched you from afar. I should have taken a different approach, helped you get published, done something more direct, but I was still entangled with Kate and Quinn and didn’t want to knock you out of your pristine existence if I couldn’t promise any more than drama and intrigue. I didn’t want to meet your husband for fear I would like him, and I didn’t want to meet you for fear you wouldn’t like me. And then my life dried up into its own ghost story with the law waiting behind every corner.
I am out of touch and out of practice. I am making that clear and up front. But I reached out from the great beyond to take this chance. If I seem strange, it’s because I want to impress you.
You are a night in May. Your smile is a new language I want to learn. It is hard for me to write about you when I actually know so little. I haven’t touched your lips or felt your embrace. It is easy for me to slash with words, to frighten, even to excite. But writing something I mean is a whole different encounter.
Forgive me. I’m out of practice. But I want to learn.
M
Meredith went back to reading, trying to stop the pounding of her heart and the soaring dreams enveloping her. Then, after thinking about it, she let those dreams fly for a minute.
RED RIBBON
Chapter Seven
It seemed to take forever to get home. The rain came down in sheets, and I slowed the car to a crawl. The car’s radio hadn’t worked since the crash the night of our party, but the rain would have drowned the music out anyway. My heart felt like a plane that could no longer fly.
The passionate, vibrant woman I had married had completely decompensated within half a year. I had heard the death in her wails when I entered the bedroom last night, the sadness melting into the madness.
“Why did you do it? Where are they?” she repeated, over and over, her voice dripping in sorrow.
Outside her window, the storm raged, and there she was in a shapeless long gown, praying to an unnamed list of angry gods, hoping to find redress from the heavens when everything on earth seemed to be collapsing.
Everyone wants there to be a logical answer to that sort of madness. If only mental illness was simply a puzzle to be solved. If only Leah could be put back together. I still loved Leah, but she was incapable of loving back.
The never-ending drive back home, dark and so heavy with rain and worry, relentless and scary, every few feet another possible treacherous skid into the ditch, left me tense and tired, depressed beyond my expectations, alone with my worry. My spirit, so nourished at summer’s arrival, so buoyed by the promise of what we were all about, now seemed hidden in the dense and unforgiving forest. I was stripped of hope and almost as demoralized as
whatever was left of my dear wife. I needed a spark, a jolt, some light in this unceasing darkness.
At home, I went straight to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of bourbon. It burned my throat and hit my stomach hard and heavy until the numbness I craved blissfully arrived. I chased it with another for good measure, desperately praying for some sort of oblivion. I saw the kitchen knife beside the sink and, for a moment, could almost feel the knife cutting ribbons into my wrists, just a momentary pain, waiting on the relief that would surely follow. I even touched the handle, toying with an idea I knew I wouldn’t really consider. They say vertigo is not the fear of falling but the fear of jumping, and there was a minute when I was on that proverbial roof, almost ready to take the ride. But I knew I would hold on, wait until I might see some promise in another morning. I dragged myself upstairs, so heavy with dread that turning on the TV we had recently added was too large a task to hope to complete. I touched the remote and felt heavy. All that I longed for was deep, semi-drugged sleep. Sweet oblivion. It was just moments away. I climbed under the covers with all my clothes still on. The pillow smelled like Leah, and something about that earthy scent opened me up like a pig to slaughter. I cried like I never had. I was alone in the middle of Georgia with no family and few friends. My wife was unknown to me. I had considered leaving this mortal coil. Even the house seemed to weep around me.
Rain led me into sleep. Its cousin thunder awoke me.
I awoke to the loud crack of lightning. The sound shook the glass in the windows, and I worried there would be fire. Then another crack of lightning, this one as bright as a June day, and the room lit up. That’s when I saw her, standing at the foot of my bed. Her white dress was soaked through, sticking to her body.
Catherine, the beautiful girl with the red ribbon in her hair.