Windtorn (American Hauntings Book 2)

Book summary

Annabelle and Gavin’s peaceful life in San Antonio takes a dark turn when a message from Gavin’s estranged family leads them to Baltimore. A simple funeral turns into an emotional confrontation, complicated by both living and supernatural forces. WINDTORN blends romance, the paranormal, and family tension, with mature themes throughout.

Excerpt from Windtorn (American Hauntings Book 2)

Chapter 1

Quebec

December 1886

The wind increased, howling through the pines with the pain of a thousand lost souls. The travelers, clutching mittened hands, pushed forward through the driving snow in hopes of respite—any respite—from the weather.

They had long since given up trying to talk to each other. Even the loudest shout couldn’t compete with the wind. Instead, they struggled forward, helpless and quickly losing hope. Each step felt like a mile. Each mile felt like a whole frozen prairie. The gulf from the tree to the scant shelter of tree stretched as vast as an ocean.

“Peeeeeeeter!” a voice called on the wind. “Peeeeeeeeter!”

“Monny?” Peter mouthed rather than spoke, turning to face her. His pale face had turned bright red with windburn, and suspicious white patches glowed on both cheeks.

Monny frowned and shook her head. Her already pounding heart threatened to burst in her chest. Oh, no! Not that. Not now! Despair closed down on her. If only we could die right now, together. She tugged Peter’s hand.

He didn’t seem to notice.

“Peeeeeeter!”

Tears froze in Monny’s eyes. Yes, die. Die of the cold. It won’t hurt much, and we’ll be together. It’s for the best.

Again, she tugged on Peter’s hand.

He paused, seeming to consider the meaning of her movement. Then, he surged forward, dragging her down the path into a clearing. Here, the wind, no longer bounded by the trees, whipped into a frenzy, driving them sideways with each step. Before them, a welcome sight loomed—a cabin. Small, ragged, and clearly abandoned, but still solid.

Monny’s breath puffed out in a frozen exhalation. Safety, if only we can get to it. Now, she tugged on Peter’s hand, hurrying forward despite the wind that fought to drag them to the left. To the trees.

“Peeeeeeter!” the unearthly wail howled.

Shivers that had nothing to do with the cold chased up Monny’s spine. She hurried, her legs straining with the pressure, through the clearing. Shelter seemed to retreat farther and farther into the distance as the couple pressed forward.

Exhaustion and hypothermia stole Monny’s strength, and when Peter’s legs went out from underneath him, she fell too.

“Come on,” she whimpered, dragging at his arm, but his eyes rolled back in his head and closed.

A sob choked Monny’s throat. She laid her head on Peter’s frozen jacket, noting numbly that the ice against her cheek didn’t burn. It didn’t feel like anything. Defeated by the winter, Monny closed her eyes as the unnamed thing in the woods began calling her.

***

San Antonio, Texas

Sweat dampened the slender body of a golden-hair woman who lay on her back on a small bed in a tiny attic bedroom whose poorly insulated ceiling admitted more of the mild, San Antonio chill than was comfortable.

Her arms clutched tight around the back of a friendly-faced man who leaned over her, weight braced on his forearms and knees.

He groaned, arching his hips in a vigorous thrust into the woman’s clenching core.

She whimpered, toes curling into the simple white sheet.

“That’s it, hon,” he murmured, his voice a soft twang of gently slurred words that sounded like neither the Texas drawl nor the musical Mexican Spanish common in their new hometown. “You’re there. I can feel it.”

A soft whimper broke from her, the only sound to mark a muscle-locking orgasm as she clenched down on him, inside and out.

He grinned. My wife climaxes quietly, but the feeling… Oh, Lord.

He leaned down and kissed her while she shuddered, and the exquisite pulsing of her passage milked his peak from him.

By the time Gavin began to relax, Annabelle had already gone limp.

He eased off her body and flopped onto the bed beside her, struggling to catch his breath. “I thought you wanted a nap.”

“I thought I did too,” she replied, “but then, you kissed me.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault, is it? You, ma’am, are entirely too eager if a simple peck from your husband makes you so… wild.”

“Criticizing?” She rolled onto her side and arched one golden eyebrow at him. The move crinkled the corner of her eye in a way he couldn’t help but find appealing.

“No,” he said, honest at last. “We’re going to be tired tonight is all.”

She shrugged. “So be it. We’ve been working so hard the last week, more than just our sleep has been interrupted. We both needed this.”

“You’re not wrong about that.”

“And we’re still essentially newlyweds. Making time for our passion is a good idea. Making a habit of it will be good for us in the future as well.”

“Newlyweds? Do you think we are?” Gavin’s hair felt funny, as though it were sticking up, so he smoothed it down. She sounds funny too. I think there’s something on her mind. Should I ask or just wait for her to bring it up when she’s ready?

“Yes. Our wedding was barely over a year ago. It hasn’t been long.” Again, that pointed note in her voice caught his attention.

She wants to say something. I’m sure of it. I wonder what it could be.

Annabelle yawned. “I’m sure tired now, though. When is your next patient coming?”

Gavin retrieved his pocket watch from a small table beside the bed and worked the clasp to send the ornate cover springing open. “Forty minutes. Why don’t you sleep, hon? I can see how tired you’ve been lately. It’s a simple case of a sprained wrist. I won’t need any assistance with that. You rest, and I’ll come up before Señora Garcia stops by at three.”

She smiled, her eyelids drooping. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I don’t want my lady getting all worn out. Um, hon?”

She opened her eyes.

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right? I know we’ve had several late nights in a row, but you seem… more tired than usual. Are you in any pain?”

Annabelle smiled, and that smile had a secret hidden in its curve. “Maybe.”

“Maybe you’re in pain?” He lowered medium-brown eyebrows. “I’m not sure I like that answer.”

“No, love, I’m not in pain.” Her smile faded and she bit her lip. “I’m not ill either.” She sat up in the bed, the sheet falling away. “Gavin?”

He dragged his gaze from her breasts which, he suddenly realized, looked fuller than normal. Her nipples had darkened significantly. She must be approaching her menstruation. No wonder she was eager to make love. Another week-long delay would have had us both chewing the furniture, and that second-hand sofa would taste dreadful. He grinned at his silly thoughts as he looked again at the compelling image she presented. His sex, though spent from their passionate encounter, tried to rise. She’s so lovely… and troubled, he realized taking in her crimped eyes and tight lips.

“Gavin?”

“Yes, love?” He dragged himself back to reality as he crossed the room, sticking to the peak of the roof so as not to hit his head on the sloping ceiling. At the end, under a small, round window, stood a small wooden commode with an ewer of water they kept for washing up. I’m sweaty and… if I go downstairs like this, all my patients will know how Doctor Morris spent his afternoon. He poured the tepid water from the porcelain pitcher into a matching bowl.

“Um, my menstruation is late.”

He pursed his lips. I’m so glad she’s learning to talk about her body and its functions matter-of-factly. No need for euphemisms. “Don’t worry, love. That can happen for a number of reasons. I haven’t noticed it’s ever particularly regular.”

“You’re right. Between my hungry childhood and my poor sleep, it’s been irregular my whole life. In fact, I’ve often wondered how healthy my body can be, after all the abuses I’ve put it through.”

Gavin paused in his washing. “You have a point. You seem healthy enough, but there might be long-term effects. We should be more diligent about your rest and nutrition. That should be easy with such a variety of food available here.”

“I agree,” she said, and under her breath muttered, “especially now.”

Gavin retrieved his clothing—which he’d scattered all over the floor of their bedroom—and began pulling it on. “Why now? Turning thirty-one rarely has an impact on someone’s health, hon.”

“I know that.” He could hear her swallow. “I also know—as I said—that my cycle isn’t the most regular. However, I’ve never completely missed two months in a row.”

Gavin paused, his trousers halfway up his thighs. “Two?”

“Yes.” She paused for a long, frozen moment. “Gavin, we never really talked about this, but… are you inclined to have children?”

The question stole his breath clear out of his lungs like a blow, and his normally busy mind went blank. “Uh, I… Um… I suppose. Why?”

“Because I think we have one on the way.”

Gavin fasted his trousers with shaking hands and turned to face his wife. “Are you sure?”

Her lip found its way between her teeth again. “I suspect. I’m feeling… uncertain in my belly—like I want to eat all the time, and if I wait, I start to get queasy. I’m also tired.”

Gavin’s whole body felt numb. He drifted more than walked to the bed and sank. “Sounds like your suspicion might be correct. Here, lie back.”

Annabelle reclined against the pillows. Gavin nudged her thigh with the heel of his hand. “May I look at your private parts, hon? I can see that your nipples are darker.”

“Is that a symptom?” She dutifully opened her legs.

“It can be.” He shifted position, acting his role by rote. He eased her lower lips apart and examined the folds between. “Yes, you are noticeably darker here. I can’t believe how oblivious I was not to notice it, not even a few minutes ago. I suppose I was more focused on caressing than examining you.”

She nodded, her golden hair tangling against the pillow. “I suppose so.”

“Have you had any other symptoms?”

Annabelle made a face. “What symptoms? Remember, love, that I spent my youth in a community of faith and chastity. I have no idea what I’m looking for.”

“I’m not entirely sure myself,” Gavin replied. “What doctors don’t know about the female reproductive system is considerable. I only treat women who have other complications—”

“Like the woman in Wichita Falls with the heart condition?’

“Exactly. Midwives handle the rest.” He flopped back on the bed beside her and drew her against him. “Fatigue, nausea, and changes to color and shape of the breasts and genitals,” he listed out calmly, ignoring her uncomfortable squirm. Well, she’s learning to be matter-of-fact about such things, at any rate. It’s helpful, as she’s my assistant more than half of the time. I won’t comment on her occasional lingering reaction. “Also, frequent urination and missed menstruation. Headaches or nosebleeds. Vomiting. Increased discharge.”

“I have some of that. Not all, though.”

“Some are more common than others. I suppose time will tell, but until then, hon, assume you’re pregnant.” He paused in his clinical explanation as reality tried to sink in. Pregnant. My wife is pregnant. If all goes well, I’ll be a father in less than a year. Good Lord. He gulped.

“Is all well with you?” Annabelle asked. “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “It’s normal for a couple to have a child, but…”

“But it’s us. It’s our child. We’ve gone through some radical changes in the last year, and now, here’s another one. Still, I’m happy. I think I am. Can you also be happy, Gavin? God has blessed our union.”

He nodded again. This time, words failed, so he drew his wife close against his shoulder and laid a kiss on her forehead. “Rest, love. You need it. I’ll take a couple of hours to distract myself with work while I think it through. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” A slow smile spread across his face. “I know I will.”