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Donja laughed…really laughed and it felt good. “Call me what you like, but it was wonderful, though I am sore…hmm, I might wait a while before we try again. Hey,” she said remembering the picture. “You’re not gonna believe this but Torin’s first wife, who was Chippewa, looks very much like one of the women in those pictures.”
“Really, you saw her?”
“A hand-painted birch, but it’s super old and though I can’t be sure, I swear there’s a resemblance,” she said snatching her purse and heading for the door.
Makayla joined her in the hallway. “Didn’t it bother you to see her? I mean, he still has her picture, rather weird don’t you think?”
“Hmm, not really,” Donja said making her way down the hallway. “He took it down before I left which was sweet, but what’s weird is that I moved to the Soo, into this house where we find a hidden room with a wedding album and hand painted pictures of brides, one of which is possibly my fiancé’s dead wife. I mean, go figure. What’s the odds of that happening?”
“Sheesh! That’s too spooky,” Makayla whined as they exited the front door, intense sunlight forcing a hand to shield her face. She heaved. “Wow, cold yesterday, a hundred degrees today, this feels like a sauna.”
“Yeah, it’s steamy, I suppose we can thank the storm last night,” Donja grumbled.
“That’s Michigan, always something with the weather,” Makayla frowned. She tucked her hair behind her ears. “All right, since you’re not going to say, I’m going to ask. What happened to his wife?”
“She died of old age, two hundred years ago.”
“And he stuck it out with her—old and wrinkled to the end?”
“Yes.”
“My God, that’s true love.”
“Umm hum,” Donja rocked her head up and down.
“I should be so lucky.”
“Well,” Donja said stepping over debris which littered the walk, “she could have crossed over and stayed young, but for whatever reason, she declined.”
Makayla scrunched her nose. “Ouch! That must have been a dagger to the heart.”
“I think you’re right. That’s why he never remarried.”
“Are you telling me he’s been alone all this time?” Makayla asked as she raised her hand and clicked the keyless remote on her Lexus.
“Yeah, isn’t it romantic?”
Makayla stopped eyeing the yard littered with broken branches. “Wow, it must have been one hell of a storm. Can you believe I slept through it?”
“Alone in this haunted manor, aren’t you the brave one?”
“Not really,” Makayla grinned, “I borrowed Maestro from Frankie.” Strolling for the car, she spied her dad and Frankie piling limbs into a wheelbarrow. “We’re going to library!” she shouted.”
Carson raised his hand to shield his eyes. “Okay, but don’t be long, we’re going out for dinner!”
“Oh, we won’t, we’re looking forward to it.”
The Library
Inside the bustling Michigan Soo, Makayla sped through a light and turned onto Library Drive. She paused with her blinker flashing as traffic flowed by.
“Wow. Nice library,” Donja said, eyeing the modern building. “Baylis Public Library,” she breathed, a name she wouldn’t forget. Makayla sped into the parking lot and parked the Lexus. They gathered the pictures and the wedding album in hand.
“It’s a very nice library,” Makayla remarked as they walked the sidewalk. “It’s affiliated with the Hiawatha Cooperative and Michigan Library. Do you like to read?”
“I do, actually, and as I’m sure you would guess, sci-fi and paranormal romance is my fav.”
“I’m a historical romance lover,” Makayla said.
