A Very Gothic Christmas Read online

  Another accident. This time Jessica was in the middle of it. She couldn’t imagine that it had been anything other than an accident. Had all of the other accidents that had occurred recently really just been flukes and coincidence? Had she become paranoid after her mother’s death? Certainly with Trevor’s accident, she had carefully examined the ground, yet she had seen no signs that the landslide had been anything more than a natural shift in the land after a storm. But what about the hooded figure Trevor and Tara had seen yesterday and the one she’d seen the night they’d arrived on the island? Who could that be? Perhaps it was the groundskeeper and his eyesight was so poor he didn’t notice anyone or anything around him. It was a poor explanation, but other than someone hiding on the island, she couldn’t think of anything else.

  “I saved your jacket, Paul,” Tara said in a small voice, holding up the precious item for everyone to see.

  Everyone burst out laughing in relief. Except Paul. He shook his head, the stunned disbelief still on his face. Jessica was certain it was on her face, too.

  “Let’s get back to the house,” Dillon suggested. “In case no one’s noticed, it’s really raining out here. Are you okay, Paul?”

  Paul didn’t answer, his body shaking in reaction, but he allowed Brian and Dillon to help him to his feet.

  Jessica mulled the idea over that she could be wrong about the accidents. Even about the brakes on her mother’s car being tampered with. About her own car. All the other trivial things could be something altogether different. She swept a shaky hand through her hair. She just didn’t know.

  chapter

  13

  IT TOOK A SURPRISINGLY short time for everyone to reconvene in the kitchen, freshly showered and once more warm after the outdoor adventures. Upset by another near tragedy, Jessica kept a close eye on the twins. The string of accidents was just too much for her to believe they were all coincidences. Yet nothing ever added up.

  She looked around the room at the other occupants of the house. She liked them. That was the problem. She really liked them. Some more than others, but she couldn’t conceive of any of them deliberately harming the twins.

  “Jessie, you aren’t listening to me,” Tara’s voice penetrated her thoughts. “I don’t know what kinds of ornaments we can make.” Tara added sadly, “Mama Rita had beautiful ornaments for our trees.” She stood very close to her brother, her gaze seeking reassurance from Jessica. Obviously she was as shaken by the accident as Jessica was.

  “We’re supposed to make them, Tara,” Trevor pointed out “That’s the way it works, right, Jessie?”

  Jessica nodded. “I have a great recipe for a dough. We can roll it out, cut out whatever shapes we want, bake them and then paint them. It will be fun.” She set two mugs of chocolate in front of the twins and held up a third mug toward Paul. He shook his head and she set it down in front of her, reaching for a towel to clean the counter.

  Brenda yawned. “Susie Homemaker strikes again. Do you know how to do everything, dear? Have you any idea how utterly tiring that can be?”

  Jessica threw the wadded up tea towel at her, hitting the perfectly fashionable head and draping the Kelly green towel over the chic chignon. “No one believes your little heartless wench act, Brenda—you’ve blown it, so start thinking up ideas. And I didn’t say I was going to do the mixing and baking. I’m the supervisor. You and the twins are the worker bees.”

  “Robert, are you going to let her get away with throwing things at me?” Brenda complained. She wadded the towel into a tight little ball, looking for a target. “Surely you could exact some sort of revenge for me. I’d do it myself but I’ve just been endangering my life, tramping through mosquito-infested waters and through alligator-ridden swamps to find the perfect Christmas tree for two ungrateful little chits. And the perfect tree turned out to be some straggly, misshapen bush!”

  “There aren’t alligators here,” Trevor pointed out, “so technically your life wasn’t really in danger. It’s your duty as our aunt to do these things and enjoy them, isn’t that right, Dad? So buck up, babe. We’ll let you sing the first Christmas carol.”

  The tea towel hit Trevor’s face dead center. “You horrid little boy!”

  “Ouch, ouch,” Trevor clutched at his chest, feigning a heart attack. “She spears with me with her unkind words.” He drained the mug of hot chocolate. “More?” he asked hopefully, holding up the cup.

  “No, you’re going to bed soon,” Jessica objected. “I swear, you’re becoming a bottomless pit.”

  “He can have mine,” Tara said, pushing the mug toward her brother. “I don’t want any more.”

  Jessica intercepted it, catching it up before Trevor could snatch it out of her reach. “What if she still has the flu, Trev? Don’t drink from the same mug,” she chided. “Tara, do you feel sick? You’ve gone so pale.”

  “I think I still have the flu,” Tara admitted, “or maybe I’m just still scared. I didn’t like seeing you and Paul falling off the cliff.”

  “We didn’t like it much either,” Jessica exchanged a small smile with Paul.

  “Hey, paper chains,” Don said suddenly. “When I was a kid we used to make paper chains and hang them on the tree. I think I remember how to do it.”

  “I remember that,” Robert agreed. “We should take all those musical notations we’ve thrown away and use them. We all love music. Does that work, Jessie? Brenda, we made a chain one year. We didn’t have a tree so we made a chain of love.”

  Jessica grinned at Brenda as the woman visibly winced, horrified to be found out. “A love chain, Brenda? You’re really a mushy girl after all, aren’t you?”

  “She’s all sappy like you are, Jessie,” Trevor was wearing an identical grin. “Brenda, you little romantic you. A luv chain.”

  “Why, Brenda,” Dillon was outright smirking. “You’ve truly amazed me. I had no idea you were a marshmallow under all that sophistication.”

  “Don’t start. Robert is making it all up as you know perfectly well,” Brenda looked haughty, her nose in the air.

  Brian wagged his finger at her. “Robert doesn’t have the imagination to make something like that up, Brenda. You did make a love chain with him.”

  Tara protectively flung her arms around Brenda, glaring at everyone. “Leave her alone, all of you!” She pressed a kiss against Brenda’s chin. “We can make as many chains as you want. Don’t let them bother you.”

  Jessica met Brenda’s gaze across the room. Tears glistened in the depths of Brenda’s eyes. She sat very still, not moving a muscle. The two women simply stared at one another, caught in the moment. Brenda nuzzled the top of Tara’s head briefly, her eyes still locked with Jessica’s. “Thank you,” she mouthed, blinking rapidly to rid herself of unwanted emotion.

  “You’re welcome,” Jessica mouthed back with a watery smile.

  Dillon felt his throat close, his heart swelling with pride at observing the exchange. Jessica brought her light to everyone. She could so easily have turned the twins against Brenda, against him. The children loved her beyond any other. Their loyalty to Jessica was strong. A single word from Jessica would have prevented the twins from even trying to work with all the different personalities around them. Jessica had been so generous in sharing them and she had instilled her giving nature in both of them. He knew, better than most, how Brenda often appeared cold and uncaring to others. He was proud of his children, that they saw beyond the barrier she presented to world to the real woman.

  “There’s always strings of popcorn,” Paul pointed out. “Those are easy enough to make. We used to make those in your basement, Brian.”

  “We ate most of them,” Dillon pointed out, laughing at the memory.

  The next two hours were spent companionably, baking and coloring ornaments and stringing paper chains and popcorn. Dillon managed to lead them in Christmas carols that Paul and Brian turned into other much more ribald ballads. Brenda and Brian got into a popcorn fight until Trevor and Tara took the
ir aunt’s side and Brian was forced to cry uncle.

  When Jessica could see that both Tara and Trevor were overtired and too flushed, she called a halt and took them both upstairs. She was surprised that both teenagers went without a murmur of protest.

  Tara clutched her stomach. “I really don’t feel very well, but I didn’t want to ruin the fun,” she admitted.

  Little warning bells began going off in Jessica’s head despite her determination not to worry. She rubbed at her temples, annoyed with herself for being so protective. Everyone got the flu, even she still felt sick.

  “I wish we had played all those tricks on everyone,” Trevor said suddenly to Tara. “Didn’t that make you mad that they were blaming us for all those pranks while we were waiting for Jessica and Dad? It’s so typical for adults to always blame kids for everything.” He suddenly lunged for the bathroom.

  “What do you mean they were blaming you for pranks?” Jessica tucked the blankets around Tara and smoothed back her hair. “Are you feeling any better, honey? I can get your father and we can take you to a doctor.”

  “I’m the one throwing my guts up,” Trevor yelled from the bathroom.

  “Sweetie, I’ll be happy to take you to the doctor. It’s just that I know you’d rather be boiled in oil than see the doc,” Jessica said sympathetically.

  They could hear Trevor noisily rinsing his mouth for the third time. “And it sucks that they thought we were going into their rooms. I wonder if someone’s been going into Dad’s room and he thinks it’s us, too. Just because we’re teenagers doesn’t mean we don’t have respect for other people’s things,” he said indignantly. He stumbled from the bathroom back to them, crossing the floor with an aggravated frown on his face. “I asked Brian point blank if he was in your room, Jessie, and if he’d burned incense and created one of his magic circles there, and he said no. And then he had the gall to tell me to stay out of his room.”

  “To stay the hell out of his room,” Tara corrected. “He was really mad at us. I never went into his stupid room.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jessica held up her hand. “What are you talking about? The others accused you of going into their rooms?”

  Tara nodded. “Even Brenda and Robert thought we were playing pranks on them. I guess it’s happened to everyone since we’ve been here and I don’t think they believed us when we told them it was happening to us, too.”

  “What pranks?” Jessica wanted to know. “And where have I been?”

  Trevor and Tara exchanged a slow grin. “With Dad,” they said in unison.

  Jessica blushed as she sat on the edge of Tara’s bed. “I guess I deserved that. I’m sorry I’ve been in the studio working so much and that I’ve been going off with Dillon. I’ll talk to Brian. He shouldn’t have accused you. What do they think you’ve been doing?”

  Trevor shrugged. “The usual teen-in-the-spooky-old-mansion stuff. Opening windows, leaving water running in the bathtub, moving things, writing weird leave-before-it’s-too-late messages on mirrors. That sort of thing.”

  “Brian said no one else would be so childish.” Tara was clearly offended. “Like I would want to find a stupid secret passageway and sneak into his dumb room!” Her gaze slid to her twin’s face. “Well, Trevor and I did look for secret passageways, but just because it was fun. If we were going to try to convince everyone there was a ghost here, we’d have done a much better job,” she declared. “At least Brenda and Robert said they believed us. Do you think Dad believes we’re sneaking into people’s rooms?” She sounded a little forlorn.

  “Of course not, Tara. If your father thought you were doing such a thing, he would have spoken to you about it immediately. I’m sorry they accused you of such childish behavior. You’re right, oftentimes an adult who isn’t used to teenagers has a false idea of the things they do.” Jessica stroked Tara’s hair. “I noticed our resident ghost forgot to open the window tonight.”

  “Could there be a real ghost in the house?” Tara asked hopefully.

  “The house isn’t old enough,” Trevor protested knowledgably. He’d read a lot on the subject. “Dad had it built after the fire. The contractor finished it while he was still in the burn center.” When his sister and Jessica looked at him he shrugged with a sheepish grin. “Paul told me. I ask him questions about Dad. Sometimes he doesn’t mind and other times he just sort of ignores me. You don’t learn anything if you don’t ask questions. A house has to be really old to have a ghost.”

  “Or there has to have been a murder in it,” Tara agreed.

  A chill went down Jessica’s spine at Tara’s words. She remembered the sound of the gunshots, the crackle of the flames, the heat and smoke. Standing up, she walked to the window, not wanting the twins to see the expression on her face. Murder. The word shimmered in her mind. Both children were watching her closely. Not wanting them to know what she was thinking, she changed the subject. “Did Brenda really take care of you and Tara this morning when you were sick? That amazes me.”

  Trevor laughed immediately. “She tried. She was as white as a sheet. The funny thing was, Robert wanted to go get you but she said no, they could handle it. I think she really wanted to, not only to give you and Dad time to work things out, but because she wanted to be the one to help us. The crazy part was, while she was being so nice, I was thinking Robert and Brenda might have tried to poison us.”

  Jessica looked at him sharply. “Why would you think something like that?”

  “Well, we both drank a soda in their room and then we were sick. And I found a newspaper in their wastebasket with words cut out of it like for a ransom note. I had this wild idea they were going to hold us hostage or something until you paid them money. Or kill us and collect the insurance on us.” He grinned, looking sheepish.

  “I was sick before I drank the soda, that’s why I drank it so fast.” Tara scowled at her brother indignantly. “Brenda and Robert weren’t trying to poison us!”

  “I know that now,” Trevor flung himself on his makeshift bed.

  “You found what in Brenda’s room?” Jessica tripped over Trevor’s shoes and nearly fell on the bed. Don had confessed to attempting to blackmail Dillon. Why would Brenda and Robert have the remnants of a cut up newspaper in their room? What would be the point of Don’s confessing and then trying to cast blame on someone else? Jessica could feel the strange shiver of apprehension snake down her spine. Unless someone else was involved. Someone far more sinister than Don. Jessica didn’t like the implications of it at all.

  “It was just an old newspaper,” Trevor said, shrugging it off. “Some of the words had been cut out of it, but I didn’t really have time to look at it closely.”

  Jessica sat down on the edge of the bed. Outside the rain had started again, pounding at the window and rattling branches against the house. “What is it you two used to call me?” she asked softly. The raindrops matched the rhythm in her heart.

  “Magical girl,” Tara’s voice was drowsy. “You’re our magical girl.”

  Jessica leaned over her to kiss her again. “Thank you, honey, I think I need to be magical girl again. I’m going down to the studio. If you need me, come get me.” She needed to go somewhere and think and it always helped when she had a guitar in her hands. Her shoulder was aching, a reminder of the day’s events, as she noiselessly crept down the hall to the wide staircase. The lights were off and the house had grown silent.

  Dillon would be waiting for her to come to him. If she was too long he might go looking. She didn’t want to be with him while she sorted things out. He distracted her, made her lose confidence in herself. Magical girl. Even her mother had used that name for her because she knew things. She knew things instinctively. Things like when what appeared to be an accident was really something much more sinister. Since coming here she had been relying on Dillon. Expecting Dillon to solve the mystery, to make it all better.

  Lightning zigzagged across the sky and lit up the courtyard as she paused on the landing to loo
k out through the glass doors. She could see the fir trees as they jerked in a macabre dance like wooden marionettes. Dillon didn’t believe anyone was trying to hurt the children. Jessica believed it and if she was going to find the truth, she needed to rely on herself and her own judgment.

  The sound room was empty, strangely eerie with the glass and instruments in the dark. She idly picked up one of Dillon’s acoustic guitars, a Martin he particularly loved. She ran her fingers over the strings, heard the small jarring note not quite in tune. That was what the accidents were like, a note not quite in tune. She had to sort it all out just as she so efficiently tuned the guitar. She played there in the darkness, sitting on the edge of the instrument panel, her mind compiling the data for her. She closed her eyes and allowed the music, Dillon’s music, to soothe her as she played.

  She slipped a few random notes into the melody. Notes off-key, off-kilter, like the accidents that could have happened to anyone. Anyone. The word repeated like a refrain in her head. Random accidents. Secret passageways. Blackmail. Pieces of a puzzle like musical notations written on paper. Move them around, put them together differently, and she would have a masterpiece. Or a key.

  Thunder crashed all too close, the clash of cymbals, the exclamation point after the melody. She opened her eyes just as another bolt of lightning lit up the world. A figure loomed up right in front of her, a dark shadow of terror. Jessica lunged to her feet, gripping the expensive guitar like a weapon.

  Brenda stumbled backward with a frightened shriek. “Jess! It’s me! Brenda!”

  Her heart pounding too loudly, Jessica slowly lowered the guitar. “What in the world are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you. Trevor told me where to find you. You’re the only one who might believe me. I don’t know who else to talk to.” Brenda’s hand shot out, prevented Jessica from turning on the light. “Don’t, I can’t look at you and say this.” She took a deep calming breath. “I wanted to believe the kids were behind the pranks, but I don’t think so. I think it’s Vivian.”