Page 95 of Old Flames

“May I get a print of this photo?” Leo asked. He relied on visual aids to organize his thoughts.

“Prints are five dollars.”

Throughout this exchange July sat quietly, wide eyes fixed on the screen. Leo wondered what she was thinking. Since lunch, she’d grown increasingly withdrawn. He worried they were returning to the old pattern. Would last night be cataloged to memory? Leo would not let that happen without a fight. His wait-and-see strategy would not get him over the next hurdle, which was to keep her with him always.

On their way back from the library, they stopped by Daphne’s office to share what they’d found. In turn she shared her resources including newspaper clippings and magazine articles, everything she’d collected for her own research. At the end of the day Leo had more than enough information to start his novel, which he would have to revise, but they were no closer to solving the mystery of the girl in the photo and the message in his notebook. The answers kept eluding them, and Jules grew tired and disappointed.

“The woman in the photo,” she said on the walk back to the inn, finally opening up. “She looks . . .”

He waited for her to finish her thought. When it was obvious she couldn’t, Leo helped. “She looks like you.”

She slowed her pace. “Maybe.”

“Do you think there’s a connection?” he asked.

“Now that you mention it, my grandfather has Caribbean roots. His mother’s family immigrated to Louisiana from Haiti in the early nineteen hundreds. That’s the lore, anyway.”

“There may be a reason she reached out to you,” he said, “tried to fool you into connecting with her.”

“I wish I knew her name,” July said. “It’s nagging me.”

“I’ll get it for you,” he promised.

“How?” she asked. “We’ve been at this all day, and we’ve got nothing but a few more ghost stories to consider, nothing concrete.”

“You should know the power of a story,” he said. “I’m going to solve this mystery for you. Promise.”

“Please don’t take this as a challenge,” she said, “I know how you get, but I don’t think this is a promise you can keep.”

“Challenge accepted!” he declared.

She squeezed his hand. “I’m certain it’s her in the photo.”

“Me, too.”

“But I’m not sure how it all connects,” she said.

“All we know is that these spirits have been at this for ages. They’ll go on like this long after we’re gone, maybe forever.”

“It’s like she’s trapped in a time loop,” she whispered.

“Yes, but not us. We’re free to go.”

“Then why don’t we?” she asked. “All this madness ends if we check out of The Aurora. Look at Daphne, Vicky, and even the couple we met at lunch. They’ve all moved on. Vicky’s obsession with Aurora phased out. Daphne had trouble sleeping during her stay, and now she’s fine. I think we should pack up and go and find a five-star resort with room service.”

“You tried leaving and came right back,” he reminded her. “And I’ve never thought to leave.”

“Are you saying we’re trapped here?”

“We’ll see, I guess.”

“What?” She stopped to face him, halting foot traffic on the busy sidewalk.

Leo hadn’t meant to scare her. Not everyone shared his tolerance for ambiguity or his willingness to walk in darkness. “If you want to leave, we’ll check out as soon as we get back. I don’t need to stay there if you don’t want to.”

“We’ll see,” she said with a stubborn tilt of her chin.

Leo took her hand. They resumed their walk, avoiding the busy main streets. They meandered along quiet residential roads lined with bungalows the colors of Easter eggs with mermaid-shaped mailboxes and bicycles abandoned by the porch steps. “Here’s a not so fun fact,” he said. “One hundred and forty years ago tonight, these lovely streets were likely engulfed in flames.”