“Friends of Celine’s.”
“Friends? She brought them with her?”
“No, they followed her here. She was not too happy about it. They’ll be leaving tomorrow, she insisted.”
“No, they mustn’t leave.”
“What?” Gray asked, confused, his brow wrinkling.
“If you want your Celine back, as she was, the real Celine, you must do everything in your power to keep them here.”
“What? Why? You’ve got to tell me what you mean.”
“I can’t tell you more than that, but I’m certain. Do as I say and whatever you do, don’t tell Celine I told you.”
Michael and Damien followed Mrs. Paxton down the hall and into the library.
“Here you are,” she said. “Anything I can help you find?”
“No, no we’re just going to poke around at a few things Charlotte mentioned this morning. Thanks though!”
“Suit yourself,” she said and turned to leave.
Once Mrs. Paxton left, Damien said, “Did you notice that woman in the hall?”
“The blonde with Gray?”
“Yeah. Was it me or did she totally look like Josie?”
“Yeah, yeah I guess she did.”
“The hair, the eyes, the lips. All the same. How weird is that?”
“Possibly a family connection? Are all these people involved with her biological family?”
“Maybe. So, what’s with your sudden interest in discussing art with Charlotte?”
“Not art, really. I was hoping though that we’d be able to find some photo albums or something here. That’s why I asked Charlotte about the portrait.”
“You want to see pictures of paintings?”
“No, pictures of the family. If Celine was here when Avery was a kid maybe they have some family photos of her. Maybe we can determine if she looks like Josie or when she was here, anything that may give us more information.”
“Ohhhh, good idea, nice ruse!”
Michael nodded at him, proud of his plan. As the two began to look around thunder clapped overhead. “Sounds like a storm is blowing in,” Michael said.
“Yeah, I’m not going to lie, this house is spooky so I am totally creeped out already by a potential thunderstorm.”
“Well distract yourself by looking through the photo albums, come on, let’s get to it.”
Josie folded her shirt in haste, tossing it back into the suitcase she had dragged onto the bed. She took some of her frustration out slamming the clothes down. The bedroom door opened, Gray entered the room. Straight off, he noticed her packing. “Celine, what are you doing?” he demanded.
“Packing.”
“Why?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow with Michael and Damien.”
“What? You can’t be serious. Why?”
“I’m going home, Gray. I’m useless here.”
“No, no, you’re not. You’re the only one who can help us, Celine.”
“No, I can’t help you. The old Celine could help you, Josie can’t.”
“That’s not true, you helped Maddy last night.”
“I didn’t help her, Gray. I sang her a lullaby, lied to her and hoped for the best. I can’t help her, not really. I can’t stop what’s happening.” Josie continued to throw items into the suitcase.
“Celine, please. You’re the only one who can help.”
“I can’t help.”
“Stop, stop,” Gray said, taking the shirt from her hands and setting it down before taking her hands in his. “Celine, stop. You can help, you’re just tired. You haven’t slept, you need some rest.”
Tears escaped from Josie’s eyes. “I can’t help her, Gray. I can’t help anyone here. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Shh, stop,” he said, wiping her tears. “You need some sleep. You’re tired. After all, you’re only human. Please, lie down for a little while then we’ll talk.”
Exhaustion overwhelmed Josie. She looked at her half-packed suitcase, sniffling. She nodded. “Okay, I’ll try to get some sleep.”
“Good. Let me move this,” he said, removing the suitcase from the bed. Josie climbed into bed, snuggling into the covers. Gray opened the music box. “You always liked to listen to this.” He sat on the edge of the bed next to her.
Josie’s eyes were already getting heavy. She reached out to take Gray’s hand. He smiled at her. She looked at his hand, noticing that he still wore his wedding ring. “You still wear your ring,” she said.
“Of course I do,” he answered, caressing her cheek. “You’ll always be the only woman for me, Celine Devereaux.”
She smiled at him again, suddenly recognizing her own bare ring finger. “Get some rest,” he said, leaning over and kissing her forehead. He stood and made his way across the room, stopping at a jewelry box on top of a dresser. He opened it and reached in, pulling out something small. He walked back over, putting the item inside her music box. “Your wedding ring,” he said, glancing at her. “Whenever you’re ready to wear it again. Sleep well.”
With that he left. Josie reached over, removing the ring from the music box. She rolled it between her thumb and fingers, gazing at it. She slipped it onto her ring finger. It still fit. Before taking it off, she spun it around her finger as she let her mind wander. Within minutes, she was asleep.
Chapter 22
“Okay, got something!” Michael shouted across the library. Damien made his way over. “It’s a book with pictures of the house. Here,” he said, turning the pages to find one with pictures of the foyer, “you can sort of make out the painting here, at least I think this is what they are talking about.”
“Oh yeah, looks like a portrait of a woman is hanging there,” Damien agreed. “Is there a better shot of it? Turn the page.”
“Yeah, here. Whoa, seriously?” Michael said, turning the page to reveal a close-up picture of the painting. The caption below the photo read: Painting of Wilhelmina Laurent Buckley. The men exchanged glances. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Yeah. A painting that looks like Josie wearing clothes from two hundred years ago.”
“It’s a perfect likeness of her.”
“It does look like her, yeah. Come on, let’s see what else we can find.” They perused the rest of the book, but found nothing. They continued to scan through photo albums near where they had found the book. After another few
