The Ghost and the Bride Read online

  The Ghost and the Bride

  Bobbi Holmes

  The Ghost and the Bride

  (Haunting Danielle, Book 14)

  A Novel

  By Bobbi Holmes

  Cover Design: Elizabeth Mackey

  * * *

  Copyright © 2017 Bobbi Holmes

  Robeth Publishing, LLC

  All Rights Reserved.

  * * *

  This novel is a work of fiction.

  Any resemblance to places or actual persons,

  living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  www.robeth.com

  To my beta readers with sincere thanks and appreciation.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  The Ghost and Little Marie

  Haunting Danielle Newsletter

  Haunting Danielle Series

  Bobbi Holmes

  Unlocked Hearts Series

  The Coulson Series

  Also by Bobbi Ann Johnson Holmes

  One

  Pamela Harper didn’t hear him come into the room. It wasn’t until he asked, “More birthday wishes?” did she look up from the card she had just pulled from an envelope.

  Flashing Kent a smile, she said, “I don’t know; I’ll just have to see.” When she opened the card, a letter slipped out, falling onto her lap. She glanced down and then looked back up to the open card in her hand, quickly reading the greeting inside before picking up the letter and opening it.

  “Oh, it’s from my cousin Lily!”

  “I’m sorry for not getting you anything for your birthday,” Kent said as he joined her at the kitchen table, a glass of orange juice in hand.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m just glad you’re finally home.” Setting the card on the kitchen table, Pamela focused her attention on the now open letter, her eyes quickly scanning the cursive handwriting.

  “Lily?” he asked.

  Pamela glanced up. Peering over the sheet of stationery in her hand, she studied Kent, who sat across the table from her, sipping his glass of juice. She still wasn’t used to his beard. Pamela had never cared for beards, a fact she never hid from Kent, which was why he had never worn one until now. Of course, Kent had no idea she hated a man in a beard. It was just one of the many things he did not remember, such as who Lily was. By his question, he had obviously forgotten that too.

  “Lily is my favorite cousin,” Pamela said patiently. “She was the maid of honor at our wedding.”

  “She’s the one who visited me in the hospital?” he asked.

  “Yes!” Pamela’s sudden burst of excitement quickly fizzled when she considered the visit took place after the accident. Of course he would remember that.

  “So what does your cousin Lily have to say?” Kent asked before downing the last of his orange juice and then setting the empty glass on the table.

  Turning her attention back to the letter, Pamela smiled. “It seems Lily is getting married. To that writer she’s been seeing this past year.”

  “Are you going to be in her wedding, like she was in yours?” he asked.

  Ours, Pamela said silently. She was in our wedding. Aloud she said, “Lily’s apparently having a very small wedding, according to this letter. They’re having it in that bed and breakfast she lives at. Her sister, Laura, is going to be her maid of honor. And her fiancé’s sister and Danielle Boatman—that’s the person who owns the bed and breakfast—are going to be bridesmaids.”

  “So she didn’t ask you?”

  Pamela shrugged and folded the letter neatly. “I’m not surprised. I always figured Laura would be Lily’s maid of honor. And Lily has been living with Danielle for over a year now. According to what my aunt told Mom, Danielle took care of Lily after that horrible accident.”

  “Yes, I remember now, you telling me about your cousin being in a coma. That was Lily?”

  Pamela nodded. “Anyway, the wedding is going to be small, so she really doesn’t need more than two bridesmaids and a maid of honor.”

  “You still must be disappointed not to be invited.”

  “Oh, I didn’t say I wasn’t invited to the wedding.” Picking up the envelope, she tucked the folded slip of stationery inside with the card. “According to her letter, the wedding is going to be small, just a few friends and close family. She wants us to come and even offered to put us up at Marlow House. That’s the bed and breakfast. Of course, I can’t.”

  “Why can’t you?” he asked.

  Pamela shook her head. “You just got home. That trip would be too much for you, and I can’t leave you.”

  “I’m a big boy. I’m sure I can manage for a few days while you attend your cousin’s wedding.”

  “I can’t go all the way to Oregon and leave you here alone.”

  Kent frowned. “Oregon?”

  “Yes. That’s where Lily lives.”

  “I didn’t realize she lives in Oregon.”

  Pamela started to contradict him, yet stopped herself. Lily had visited Kent in the hospital before she had moved to Oregon. And while Pamela had briefly discussed Lily’s accident with Kent, and the fact the cousin had since taken a leave from teaching and now helped a friend run a bed and breakfast on the coast—she wasn’t sure she had ever mentioned that coast was in Oregon. These days, Kent’s attention span was limited—and she tried not to overwhelm him with details.

  “She’s been living there for a little over a year now,” she explained.

  Kent frowned and sat quietly for a few moments. Finally, he looked up and asked, “Where exactly in Oregon is this bed and breakfast?”

  “Frederickport. It’s a little beach town south of Astoria.”

  A smile crept across Kent’s face. “Sounds nice.”

  Pamela shrugged. “I guess Lily loves it there. According to the letter, she and her fiancé are buying a house across the street from where she lives now. I guess it’s right on the ocean. Something like that would cost a fortune in California.”

  “I imagine it does in Oregon too.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But not as much as California beachfront property.”

  “I think we should go to the wedding. Didn’t you say she invited us both?”

  “Yes, she did. But, Kent, you’re in no shape for a trip like that. You just came home.”

  “When is the wedding? I can’t imagine she sent you a letter inviting you to something that’s just a few days away. Don’t weddings normally take time to prepare?”

  “This wedding’s a month away—mid-September. According to her letter, she got engaged in July, and they want to get married before it gets too cold. I guess it can get pretty chilly along the coast in the winter.”
>
  “It can be chilly along the Oregon coast in the fall.”

  Pamela cocked her head slightly and studied Kent. “You’ve never been to Oregon.”

  Kent arched his brows. “I haven’t?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  Kent shrugged. “It doesn’t mean I’m not aware of the fact Oregon gets a lot more rain than California, and their beaches tend to be cooler.”

  Pamela smiled. “True.”

  “Which is why I think we should go. Haven’t I learned life is short? Shouldn’t I be out living that life to the fullest now that I’ve come this far? And I’m sure in a month I’ll be much stronger than I am now.”

  “Not sure attending my cousin’s wedding is on par with fulfilling a bucket list,” Pamela said with a chuckle. “But it might be a nice first trip for us, and Lily did say she had a room downstairs we could stay in if we wanted to go. That way, you wouldn’t have to climb any stairs.”

  “Sounds perfect!” He grinned. “So when is the wedding, exactly?”

  Picking up the envelope, Pamela pulled out the letter and opened it. Glancing over the dates, she looked at her husband and said, “It’s September 19—a Saturday. But Lily invited us to come and stay for ten days. She said the room would be available Friday, September 11.” Still holding the letter in her hand, Pamela glanced over at Kent. “But would you want to stay that long?”

  “I’d think it would be more stressful to make a shorter trip. A little over a week seems about right.”

  Tucking the letter back in the envelope, Pamela stood. “If you’re sure. Then I should probably call Lily and let her know we’re seriously considering attending.”

  “Considering? Just tell her we’ll be there.”

  “Are you sure, Kent? I don’t want to do anything that will—”

  “Don’t coddle me,” he snapped. “I’ve spent over a year being confined to a damn nursing home, and I don’t intend to spend the next year stuck in this house!”

  Startled by his outburst, Pamela stood silently for a moment, envelope in hand. She stared at her husband. Instead of apologizing, he waved toward the telephone sitting on the counter and told her to make the call.

  Pamela glanced at the landline. “I don’t know Lily’s number offhand. I have it on my cellphone. I think I left it in our bedroom…upstairs.”

  She headed toward the door leading to the hallway. Just before exiting the room, she paused and turned to Kent. “After I call Lily, I’m going to take a shower. Are you going to be okay down here by yourself?”

  “I said don’t coddle me,” he told her. “I’ll be fine. If I get tired, I’ll go to my room and take a nap. That’s all I seem to do these days anyway.”

  With a nod, she turned and left the kitchen, leaving Kent sitting alone at the table.

  As Pamela headed down the hallway toward the staircase, she failed to notice a man standing in the shadows. Once she reached the second floor and headed toward the master bedroom, the man stealthily crept up the staircase without making a sound.

  Kent stared at the telephone sitting on the kitchen counter. Since his release from the nursing home a few days earlier, he had been fixated on the telephone—his first opportunity to call her. After the accident, Pamela had told him his cellphone had been lost in the fire. He wanted a new one, but she insisted on waiting until he was back home and feeling better. After all, who did he have to call? She didn’t say it. But he knew that was what she was thinking. Why did he need a cellphone when he couldn’t remember anyone from his previous life?

  Standing up from the table, he made his way to the counter and then stood silently, staring at the phone. Hesitantly, he reached for it and picked up the handset and dialed the number, wondering briefly if she had changed it. If she had, Kent wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

  Holding the phone to his ear, he listened to the ringing from the earpiece, and then the ringing stopped and a woman’s voice answered. It was her voice.

  “Hello?” she said for a second time.

  “Felicia?” he asked in a whisper.

  “Who is this?” she demanded.

  Reluctantly, he said, “This is Kent Harper.”

  There was no response.

  “Hello?” he asked. “Are you still there?”

  “I thought you were in some hospital,” she asked.

  “I just got out a few days ago.”

  “Why are you calling me? Does your wife know you’re calling me?” she snapped.

  Clutching the handset, he glanced briefly to the ceiling. “No.”

  “What do you want?” she demanded.

  “Do you still live in Silverton?”

  “What business is it of yours where I live? Why are you calling me?”

  “We need to talk,” he whispered, nervously glancing to the doorway leading to the hall. He didn’t hear the shower running upstairs and was afraid Pamela would come barging in any minute. How would he explain this call?

  “Haven’t you destroyed my life enough?” she asked.

  “Please, I have something I must tell you. Trust me. It’s important. You’ll thank me.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” she snapped. “If you have something to tell me, then just tell me. And hurry up about it, I have somewhere I need to go.”

  “No, I can’t do it on the phone. I need to talk to you in private—alone,” he insisted.

  “I sure as hell am not going to California to talk to you. So if you have something to say, say it now, and then never call me again!”

  “I’m coming to Oregon in September. I should be arriving on the eleventh. I’ll be staying at a bed and breakfast in Frederickport. When I get there, I’ll call you. We can arrange to meet someplace—alone—just the two of us.”

  Two

  Lily found Danielle in the living room with Walt, playing a game of chess. At least, she assumed Walt was sitting across the small game table from Danielle, considering a black pawn was seemingly moving from one square to another of its own accord.

  “My cousin Pamela is coming to the wedding!” Lily announced as she entered the room. Wearing white shorts and a snug-fitting knit shirt—each garment accentuating her petite yet shapely form and ample bustline—with her red hair pulled up into a high ponytail, she flounced to the sofa and sat down.

  Danielle glanced up from the chessboard and looked at Lily. “Is her husband coming too?”

  “Yes. I guess it was Kent’s idea. He wants to take a trip. I can’t say I blame him. I remember how stir-crazy I got here during those IV treatments. I can’t even imagine what he’s gone through.” Lily lifted her shoulders in an exaggerated shiver.

  “What’s wrong with the husband?” Walt asked, leaning back in the chair, glancing from Lily to Danielle.

  “He was in a bad car accident a couple of months before we moved to Oregon,” Danielle explained.

  Lily glanced to the seemingly empty chair where she assumed Walt sat. “It was a horrible accident. After something like three or four surgeries, he had to start extensive physical therapy. He was in rehab for months. I guess they felt he was finally ready to come home. Poor Pamela. It’s been hell for her.”

  “How’s his memory?” Danielle asked.

  Lily shrugged. “I guess about the same.”

  “He still doesn’t remember why he was in Morro Bay?” Danielle asked.

  Lily shook her head, sending her ponytail bobbing. “Heck, he still doesn’t remember Pamela.”

  “The man lost his memory?” Walt asked.

  Danielle nodded. “After the car accident, the paramedics took him to the hospital, where he had emergency surgery. When he woke up from the anesthesia, he didn’t know who he was. Had no memory of his wife or their life together.”

  “He didn’t even know his parents or sisters,” Lily added. “I think Pamela has given up on him regaining his old memories. At this point, she’s just trying to salvage their marriage while helping him get healthy again. She still loves him, but he d
oesn’t remember anything about their life together.”

  “That would be a little awkward,” Walt mumbled. With a wave of his hand, he summoned a lit cigar.

  “I suppose it would be more awkward if Lily’s cousin was the one who lost her memory instead of her husband,” Danielle muttered as she moved a chess piece.

  “Why do you say that?” Lily asked.

  “Yes, Danielle, why?” Walt parroted.

  Danielle shrugged. “Think about it. Lily’s cousin—from what I recall—is attractive. And you have to admit most men would not have a problem being asked to—umm—you know—be intimate with a good-looking woman they didn’t know. Whereas a woman would more likely be horrified at the idea of being intimate with a man she considered a perfect stranger.”

  “Interesting…” Walt murmured while taking a leisurely drag off his thin cigar. “You are sounding quite sexist, Danielle.”

  Lily, who wasn’t capable of seeing or hearing Walt, giggled and then told Danielle, “I suppose that depends how hot the husband is.” Lily attempted to wiggle her eyebrows at Danielle while a mischievous grin turned the corners of her mouth.

  Rolling her eyes, Danielle shook her head. “Oh, come on, you know what I mean, Lily.” Danielle turned to Walt. “And that was not sexist.”

  “Yes, it was,” Walt disagreed.

  “Did Walt say you were being sexist?” Lily asked.