Charon's Crossing

The wind, gusting in from the sea, sent a tremor across Kathryn's skin.

"Everybody but me," she said, trying for a light touch and failing miserably. "Well, that's what I said yesterday, isn't it? Here I am, the lucky owner of a house that comes complete with a built-in spook, and nobody tells me a thing." She cleared her throat, linked her hands loosely behind her, and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. "I, uh, I don't suppose you know why he'd be haunting this house, do you?"

Hiram took a hammer and screwdriver from his tool kit and tucked them into his back pocket.

"He died here."

The old man's matter-of-fact tone caught her off guard.

"Here?" she said, her voice rising to a squeak. "At Charon's Crossing? Was there an accident?"

"It was no accident. Matthew McDowell was killed here." Hiram jerked a box of nails from the tool chest and dumped it into a pocket. "Executed, for piracy, just through that old trellis, in the garden out back." He turned and looked at her. "But there are those who say it was more a murder than an execution."

Kathryn could no more have kept herself from spinning around and staring towards the rear of the house than she could have kept her heart from taking a leap into her throat.

"Man who killed him was a British officer. Some say he found out McDowell wasn't a privateer but a pirate, stealin' treasure meant for the English king and buryin' it on some spit o'land out in the middle of the sea for himself."

"But you don't believe that?"

Hiram shrugged. "McDowell fell in love with the governor's daughter."

"Cat Russell," Kathryn murmured.

He nodded. "She was high born, liked the good life. The rumor was McDowell wanted to make her his wife but she wasn't about to marry a rough-and-tumble American upstart who sailed under a flag some thought might as well bear the skull and crossbones."

"And? What happened?"

"All I know is what I've told you, Kathryn." Hiram let down the tailgate of his pickup truck and climbed up into the bed.

Kathryn gave a shaky laugh. "Let me get this straight," she said. "Does everybody on the island know that story?"

"Everybody." Hiram looked straight at her. "And not a one of 'em would think twice if you decided to move out of here and take a place in town."

So much for worrying about not spreading rumors about Charon's Crossing!

Kathryn looked at the house. She could feel nothing ominous here today. The only thing she could sense was a bittersweet sorrow. Besides, why would she lend substance to the fanciful tales of haunts and spirits?

She swung towards Hiram. "Thank you," she said, "but I think I'm going to stay right where I am."

"I had a feelin' you'd say that." The old man grinned. "Have the feelin' Elvira will like you just fine, too."

"Elvira?"

"My missus. She's as stubborn as a mule, same as you. You and she ought to get along real well."

For the first time in what felt like a long, long time, Kathryn really smiled.

An answering smile flickered across Hiram's mouth. "She said to tell you she'd be happy to come out here, give you a hand puttin' this place in shape. How's that sound?"

"It sounds terrific."

"Treat her right, might be she'll bake you some fresh cinnamon rolls while she's at it."

"If she'll make me some of that lemonade you served yesterday, it's a deal."

Hiram nodded. "She'll call you. Meantime, I'll fix your shutters and your doors. Should take me a couple of hours, no more."

Kathryn tried not to heave a sigh of relief. "Good," she said. "And you'll check for secret passages?"