Timeless

[image error]A contemporary Gothic romance, Timeless has all the elements of an intriguing paranormal: a resident ghost, evil entities, tragic lovers, and ultimate redemption. Set in Old Louisville, now and in the past, Timeless brings together the elements of history and contemporary New Age belief.

When Beth Abbott receives a surprise inheritance from her birth mother, she travels to the family’s nineteenth century mansion in Old Louisville, now a bed and breakfast. There she meets the resident ghost, a little girl whose crying scares, but intrigues guests. Beth sets out to discover the identity of the ghost and why she appears happy to Beth, not sad.

Jeff Halstead, a man with several secrets, runs the bed and breakfast. But he’s more than that to Beth, and she feels their connection immediately. A psychic medium who doubts his skills, Jeff slowly uncovers the truth of their past lives. Will he be in time to reveal the identity of Beth’s enemy? Will the love they shared in the past follow them into the future?

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Excerpt

Chapter One

Bowling Green, Kentucky

Present Day

My life changed on a dreary day in December. Oh, the day started out as usual. I made it to work at Eggs-to-Go with six minutes to spare. The seven o’clock starting time has always been hard on me because I’m not a morning person. But I like my waitressing job. I like serving the variety of people who come into the breakfast and brunch restaurant. Many of them are college students because Bowling Green is a college town. Gulping down cups of hot coffee has helped me make it through the longest shifts with a smile.

On the day my life changed, I had a test to study for, so I stopped by the Western Kentucky University library before going home. I can’t study in the apartment. Mom is always watching CSPAN or Fox News, and the noise drives me crazy. Mom’s a little hard of hearing, so she turns up the volume, you see. The quiet library is better for me. For one thing, studying there makes me feel as if I’m a real college student, not a twenty-five year, old part-time night school student.

Anyway, I got home late, because I stopped on the way to pick up a quart of skim milk and a carton of peppermint ice cream. It was close enough to Christmas for Mom’s favorite ice cream to be in the store. I thought I’d surprise her.

I was the one surprised.

We live in a two-bedroom apartment. Nothing grand. We’ve lived there together since my dad left us. He’s not my real dad—just my adoptive dad—so I don’t claim any of his irresponsible genes. When Mom got breast cancer, the jerk declared he couldn’t handle it. That left me to take care of Mom when they divorced.

After all, since my mom adopted me as a baby when my birth mother gave me up, I figure I owe her. Oh, sure, I understand her subtle message that I’m her reason for living, especially now that he’s left us. Being someone’s reason for living is a chore. It’s not easy carrying someone’s happiness on your shoulders. But this had been my way of life for a long time. It was the only life I knew.

Until that day when I unlocked the apartment door and walked into the living room. Sitting beside my mom on one end of the sofa was a balding man with thick, black-framed glasses. He wore a three-piece suit and a red power tie. He looked official, but not particularly powerful. When I walked in carrying the plastic grocery bag, he stood up.

Mom jumped up too, as if she was nervous.

“Beth, this is Mr. Carmichael,” she said. “He’s from Louisville, and he’s come to see you.”

He stepped forward and extended his hand, tight lipped, his eyes boring into mine. I took his hand. It was limp and clammy. I didn’t think much of him, not with a handshake like that. Shouldn’t city lawyers be more manly?

“You look like your mother,” he said.

That got my attention, I tell you. I glanced at Mom. We didn’t look a bit alike. She’s dark haired with an olive complexion. I’ve always been blond and fair. But then again, we aren’t really related. Not by blood anyway.

My gaze shot up to meet the man’s black eyes. What had he said? A knot of something like panic tightened in my stomach. I licked my lips. They were suddenly dry.

“Well, sit down, everyone.” Mom was flustered. I could tell by the way she pulled her worn sweater around her as if the old blue yarn would protect her from the awkward coldness that filled the room.

I plopped down on the straight-back wooden chair near the writing desk and put the plastic grocery bag on the desktop. I sat bolt upright on the edge of my chair, clenching my teeth together, and folded my hands in my lap. Something was coming, and I felt the raw energy of it. I didn’t know if it was good or bad, but from Mom’s expression, it couldn’t be too bad. She was obviously agitated but not all teary-eyed like the day she learned Grandpa had died.

Mom fidgeted. She smiled and shifted her gaze between us. “Mr. Carmichael has good news for you, Beth.”

I lifted my eyebrows, daring the man to say what he’d come to say.

“I am the attorney for the estate of Melissa Chadwick Williams,” he said hesitating, as if weighing his words. “Mrs. Williams died of pancreatic cancer two months ago.”

I tilted my head to the side as if to ask “So?” What did this have to do with me?

Mr. Carmichael glanced at Mom. “Do you want to tell her, Mrs. Abbott?”

I guess he thought my mom could soften whatever blow was to come, but I’d already figured it out. This woman who’d died was my real mother, and he was her lawyer.

So I saved everyone the trouble. “What do you want with me, Mr. Carmichael? I assume this Mrs. Williams is my birth mother. She’s dead. I’m sorry. But what does her passing have to do with me?”

“Everything, Miss Abbott.” He cleared his throat. “You see, she left the bulk of her estate and that of her late husband to you.”

Now I couldn’t speak. My mouth dropped open, and then I clamped it shut so I wouldn’t look like a goon.

“Beth, it’s a lot of money!” Mom’s eyes gleamed with excitement, as if we’d just won the Powerball.

“Just how much money is it?”

“In the ballpark of two million dollars in property and investments.”