Not Quite Right (A Lowcountry Mystery) (Lowcountry Mysteries Book 6) by Lyla Payne Read Free Book Online Page B

her gait awkward and hesitant when she sees us sitting in silence. I can’t stop myself from putting out a hand and covering his, giving it a squeeze that we both could imagine feels sisterly. “Please don’t let this get to you. We’ll figure it out, okay?”
    He nods, his gaze faraway. I wonder what Mrs. Walters makes of the fact that he’s been on our porch on and off for the past twelve hours, but find it hard to care. She can think what she wants about me, or Amelia, or our grandparents. The gossip chain is a part of small-town life that’s not going away. Might as well get used to it.
    I glance back at Travis one last time as I step off the porch and onto the uneven path that leads to the driveway. I can’t help but think that we’re both treading dangerous waters. If my ghosts have taught me anything, it’s that the past can haunt a person, whether they want to disentangle and move on or not.
    A sad, creeping feeling comes over me. It makes me sure that whatever we learn, neither Travis nor I are going to be any happier for it.

Chapter Four

    “Y ou know, your dad might be able to help you with the whole Mama Lottie situation.” Amelia bites into her chicken Caesar wrap from the diner, eyeing me from the opposite side of my desk at the library.
    We haven’t talked much since arriving this morning. Like I guessed, patrons had been few and far between and I’m still holding my breath expecting Mrs. Walters to show up and harass us. I might not give two shits in a basket what she thinks, but the less trouble with our boss, Mr. Freedman, the better. Being the head librarian in Heron Creek isn’t exactly the be-all and end-all of my career goals, but getting fired would be a huge pain in the ass. There’s definitely no time in my curse-breaking, ghost-advising schedule to sharpen my résumé .
    “How so?” I manage, even though I know what she’s going to say. I’m just not sure that Frank’s going to be keen on helping me with anything, especially now that he knows I have more questions than ever about my mother. Questions he might be the only person in the world who can answer. I take a slurp of tomato basil soup and swallow, reveling in the warmth as it slinks all the way down to my belly.
    “You know…he can summon spirits. Maybe he can make her talk.” She pauses, thinking about that. “Or at least he can make her show up and listen. We’ve got to at least try to tell her about her own kin being part of the curse.”
    I wonder at how the word curse has become such a normal part of our everyday vocabulary. Neither Millie nor I would have described ourselves as believers in that sort of thing before Anne Bonny started coming around, but the things that have happened… Like I told Travis, there’s no way to accept coincidences that big. It feels surreal on some days, like someone else’s life. I have to remember that it’s mine now. No use trying to pretend ghosts and their residual wants and angers and feelings don’t exist.
    Acting as though they’re not there or don’t affect us won’t make them go away. Mrs. LaBadie and her gris gris bags on the porch, the spiked tea, the nightmares… This curse on Anne Bonny and her descendants will find us whether we say that it exists out loud or not.
    “I guess.” I pause, wondering how she’s going to take my next question. “Do you think your mom would know anything about Felicia giving a baby up for adoption?”
    Millie frowns. “I don’t know, Grace. But I doubt it. They didn’t talk at all, according to Mom, after Felicia got pregnant with you and ran off. Hell, we never met until we were in school, and Travis would have been born and given away by then.”
    “I know.” It’s a long shot, but I think I have to ask my aunt anyway. “Is she going to freak out if I ask her?”
    “She freaks out any time she thinks there might be juicy gossip that eludes her. You know that.”  
    “Maybe we can go to Charleston this weekend? Let her