Calico Dreams by Bev Haynes

CALICO DREAMS

Bev Haynes

A mysterious inheritance could be the answer to JANUARY MOHR’S dreams, but the mystery, the startling handsome man, BARRY COTTIER, who doesn’t want her there, and the calico clad GHOST may turn her dream into a nightmare.

...January stopped the car and took a deep breath. It felt as if her life had been severed into two distinct segments—before this day and after this day. Her spirit of adventure overcame her desire for security and she tossed open the door, swung her feet out and stood in the cold air of early spring.

Whoever had named the property really had a flair for words. The title described it perfectly. Pine Gables. January looked up at the gables along the roofline from her vantage point. The house was so compelling...not the house, if she were fortunate enough, her house! She walked toward it, wishing that she hadn’t missed the realtor because she could hardly wait to see inside. Excitement filled her. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if this old home really were hers? Could she be that lucky?

Turning, she walked along the back of the house. Here, the remainder of a spring snow showed in tall snowdrifts as she picked her way around them, walking toward the heavy, wooden door. Surely, it would be locked, but if it weren’t, she would go inside and look around. Besides, she was getting cold and her teeth gently chattered as she breathed.

The steps leading to the door were in terrible shape. As she ascended the stairs, she felt the first one give under the pressure of her weight. She saw in the moonlight that the next rotting board wasn’t attached on one side. So much for going in, she thought glumly. January returned to the cold ground to finish the trek around the house when a light shining from a basement window caught her attention. She raced over to it, dropped to her knees and, by placing either hand beside her face, peered into the room.

“Oh!” she cried aloud into the crisp night air, not believing her eyes. It couldn’t be…

January didn’t have time to protect herself or so much as scream for help. Suddenly, she was on the ground face down, her slight frame pushed into the wet spring snow like a candy decoration on whipped-cream frosting.

She struggled to free herself, but the more she moved, the harder her captor pushed his shoulders into her back. Kicking her leg out with all the power she could muster, her foot connected with his side.

“Ouch, you little witch! I should tan your hide.” He loosened his hold of her.

Taking advantage of her momentary freedom, January struggled to her feet and nearly fell. Her legs felt numb, not only from the fall, but from absolute terror. Snapping her head to the side, she surveyed the area for an escape route. The wall of the rock mansion was on one side of her and lilac bushes on the other. She jumped toward the bushes, but the man was quicker. He sprang to his feet in one graceful movement, grabbed her around the shoulders, and pulled her back against him.

January’s mind spun, but she couldn’t find an escape route. What in heaven was she going to do now? “Let go of me!” she shrieked, her voice cracking with hysteria.

“First...I’m calling...the sheriff,” the man said, his breath filled with anger. He whirled her around and pushed her against the rock wall. The thick undergrowth caught at her wool skirt and scraped her legs.

January’s heart sank. The man was wild with rage. The whites of his eyes glistened in the moonlight and his face contorted crazily. Dressed in black jeans, blood-red shirt, and an ominous black, western-style duster that flapped in the wind like a predatory bird, he resembled–a vampire. She shuddered as thick clouds engulfed the moon deepening the shadows cast by the huge mansion. January’s stomach contracted and bile filled her throat. Her captor held her with one hand and, reaching inside his duster, retrieved a cellular telephone. “You’re staying right here until the sheriff arrives.”

So much for thinking he was a reanimated corpse. In her years of reading horror novels, never once had a vampire used a phone! His words made her swallow hard. At least he was calling the police. “B-but you don’t understand!” she cried. Panic pounding at the base of her skull eradicated her powers of reason and the sharp rock of the stone wall bit into her back as she tried to squirm from his grasp.

“Oh, I understand all right. I’ve been trying to catch you for over a month. You...you teenagers!”

Suddenly, her body trembled under his gaze, anxiety mingled with her anger. What was he talking about? What did this man think she’d done? She had to do something even if her situation seemed dismal. Instinctively, she stomped her foot down hard on the top of his instep

“Ouch! Do that again and I-I’ll...” A nasty grin pulled at the corners of his full lips showing a row of ultra-white teeth. No fangs protruded to tear at her creamy white throat. “...I guess I’m lucky you’re such a little bit of a thing or else you could have broken my foot.” He leaned a forearm against her shoulders and holding the phone in the other hand, dialed.

His gore-colored shirt collar tickled her nose when he moved. Her heart pounded against the confining bone structure in her chest. “No. Wait...you don’t understand” January whispered, her energy drained from the struggle. “I think I might own this place. I’m here to meet a real estate broker.” Defeated, she sagged against him. As her chest pressed against his, an electrical charge surged through her, taking with it the little breath she had left.

Suddenly, the tension seemed to evaporate from her captor; she felt his muscles contract, then go slack like a rubber band snapping from too much stress. Had he felt the rush also? He took a step back, releasing her from his grasp. “Ms. Mohr?” His square jaw throbbed as he stared at her, his heated gaze boring into hers.

The faint sound of someone at the other end of the telephone caught his attention and he looked bewilderedly at her, then returned his concentration back to the phone. “Sorry. Wrong number,” he uttered into the phone. Snapping it shut, he dropped it into his duster pocket. Tentatively, the corners of his mouth edged upward and transformed his sneer into a dazzling smile. “Did we have an appointment?” He offered her his hand.

The man’s arrogance irritated her. Slapping away his outstretched hand, she watched it drop to his side. “You’re Mr. Cottier?”