Page 1 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Prologue

Lake Loon, Georgia, Late Winter

She’s going to die …

Sucking in a harsh breath, Molly Stewart shot straight up in bed from a deep sleep, chest heaving in panic like always when she had one of those dreams. The kind that were more of a curse than a blessing.

Because they usually came true.

Sweat beaded her forehead as she stared unblinking in the dark, eyes dry sockets of shock. All she could hear was her own wheezing while she gasped for air, almost drowning out the violent throbbing of blood in her ears.

Drowning.

Oh, God, no, please …

“Miss Lilly tends to go outside when she walks in her sleep,” Chase Griffin had warned when he’d hired Molly as a temporary caretaker and companion for his elderly landlady, “so it’s best to crack your door to hear her if she does.”

“No!” Hurling the covers aside, Molly vaulted from her bed, crying out as she stubbed her toe on her way to the door, the nightmare far too real to be ignored. “God, please, let her be safe …” Fingers quivering, she lashed the door all the way open so hard, it banged against the wall as she bolted through, her breathing as jagged as her nerves. Shooting down the hallway to Miss Lilly’s room, her body seized at the sight of Miss Lilly’s open door.

A door she always kept closed at night.

Molly’s stomach bottomed out when she saw the empty bed.

“Nooooo!” Her groan followed her as she flew down the steps, her wide-eyed gaze darting to the sliding doors that led to the lake.

“Now, where in sweet glory are you a-rushin’ off to, young lady?”

Molly froze on the bottom step, heart banging against her ribs as she peered into the dark kitchen lit only by a nightlight. A shaft of moonlight glinted off little circles bobby-pinned all over a small white head. Expelling a long, wavering breath, Molly put a shaky hand to her chest to calm her racing heart, her ribcage still heaving. A knowing smile hovered over Miss Lilly’s pursed lips while she nonchalantly nibbled a cookie, the eighty-eight-year-old, silver-haired imp sitting in the dark drinking from a teacup like it was noon instead of midnight.

“I … uh … heard a noise,” Molly managed after a hard swallow that slid into a shaky, if not sheepish, smile. “Thought you might be sleepwalking again,” she said, forcing a light tone while she pulled out a chair. She shook off the fear that had gripped her heart, unwilling to divulge the nightmare that had sent her bounding into the night. A shiver rattled her spine.

Nightmares that were often omens of doom.

Sinking into the spindle-back chair like her bones were made of mush, she figured it was more likely for her to have a stroke or heart attack than the patient she’d been hired to care for. The edge of her smile hitched up. Or a sprained ankle.

“She sprained her left ankle a few months back while sleepwalking,” Chase had explained, “tripping over gardening tools while on the back deck. So when she sprained her other ankle last week missing the last step in the middle of the night, we knew she needed live-in help.”

He’d smiled that little-boy smile that said he wanted a big, big favor. The same smile she’d never been able to resist when they were good friends in the military. And the one that made her wish he wasn’t both her associate pastor and married. To a girl named Cat, who had quickly become one of Molly’s best friends since she’d moved back to Savannah.

“And,” he continued with a wiggle of brows, “since you need someplace to stay other than your parents while you look for a place of your own and you’re a nurse to boot, well”—he shrugged—“Cat and I both thought this arrangement would be ideal.”

Ideal. Yep. That pretty much fit. Especially since Molly’s fiancé—a police detective she worked with at the Charleston P.D.—had cheated on her with her roommate.

Three stinkin’ months before the wedding.

The moment she’d walked in on them making out—on the couch in her own apartment, no less—she knew life would never be the same. Returning unexpectedly from a weekend trip to her folk’s house in Savannah, she’d been stunned and wounded, deciding right then and there—despite their pleas and apologies—to leave everything behind.

The city.

The job.

The fiancé.

So she’d headed back to Savannah and her family for a fresh start, desperate to find an apartment as soon as humanly possible.

Because her parents were driving her crazy.

After all, it was no secret why she and her two sisters had moved away after college. Not that her parents weren’t great—they were. Great marriage. Great home. Great support.