The Visitor (Graveyard Queen, #4)(58)

“Now, Louvenia,” Owen soothed. “I wouldn’t go getting all worked up about it. Especially when we’ve other things to worry about at the moment.” He gave her a meaningful glance.

“I warned you. I warned you all,” she said with mounting agitation. “You shouldn’t mock things you know nothing about. I don’t like it and neither do they.”

Owen shot me a look. “Of course you’re right, but perhaps this is a subject best discussed later. After all, you wouldn’t want to frighten Miss Gray away, would you?”

“I was just leaving,” I rushed to say.

Louvenia seemed to have forgotten my presence. She stared at me blankly for a moment before the fog lifted. “If you still plan to go out to the cemetery this afternoon, please take care,” she said, slipping back into her cordial if somewhat reserved demeanor. “It’s a very disorienting place and the woods that surround it are dense. You might find yourself lost even with a map.”

“I’ll be careful,” I promised.

“Are you headed out there now?” Owen asked. “Why don’t I walk you to your car and at least point you in the right direction?”

“I won’t put you to the trouble,” I said. “I’m certain I can find the way.”

“It’s no trouble. I need to fetch something from the car anyway.” He turned to Louvenia. “I’ve brought you a gift. Just a little something from the shop I think you’ll enjoy.”

She nodded absently. “Make sure you tell her about the maze. And the latch on the gate. There’s a trick to both of them. And please let me know if you decide to stay over, Miss Gray. I’ll make sure my sister takes good care of you.”

“I will. And thank you for the chat,” I said.

“Oh, it was my pleasure. I hope to speak with you again very soon.”

With that, I followed Owen Dowling out the front door and across the wide veranda. We were both silent until we reached the steps and then he stopped and turned to me with an apologetic smile. “Louvenia tends to have some strange notions. I hope she didn’t scare you away with all that talk about something being ‘out there.’”

“No, of course not.”

“I didn’t think so, but some people are easily spooked. I guess when you work alone in abandoned cemeteries you can’t afford to let your imagination get the better of you.”

“I take it you don’t think there’s any basis for her concern.”

“Why, Miss Gray,” he said in a teasing voice. “Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts.”

“I try to keep an open mind.”

“Please don’t tell Louvenia. She doesn’t need the encouragement.” He glanced worriedly over his shoulder. “Normally, she’s the most down-to-earth, business-minded person I know, with the possible exception of Aunt Nelda. Both of them are extraordinary entrepreneurs, Louvenia with the farm and Aunt Nelda with all her little businesses. But ever since I can remember, Louvenia has had an almost pathological superstition about that old cemetery.”

“Is that why her grandson is against the restoration?”

“You’ve met Micah?” Owen asked in surprise.

“Not formally, but I’ve seen him around.”

He lifted a brow. “May I ask where?”

“He was at the cemetery in Charleston the day I first met with your aunts.”

“Ah. Well, to answer your question, I doubt his motives are at all altruistic. I’m quite certain he has his own agenda. Which is another reason Aunt Nelda and I are so worried about Louvenia. If she gets too caught up in that old cemetery again, she’s apt to overlook the real threat that’s living right here under her nose.”

“You think her own grandson would try to harm her?”

Owen paused. “The problem is none of us really know Micah anymore or what he’s been up to. Even before he left, he was a troubled young man. In and out of institutions since boyhood.”

“I see.” I put a hand to the back of my neck as my skin started to prickle.

“Is something wrong?” Owen asked.

“I didn’t notice all those bees at the end of the veranda earlier. But their drone now is really distracting.”

He listened for a moment before turning back to me. “Louvenia keeps a number of colonies around the farm. The family has a long history of beekeeping.”

I took a few steps into the yard, distancing myself from the incessant buzzing.

“There’s no need to worry,” Owen said. “Bees aren’t aggressive when they’re swarming. Unless they feel threatened, of course. I suppose that’s one of the good things about Micah’s return. Possibly the only good thing. He’s taken over the beekeeping duties. It’s very hard work and Aunt Louvenia has never been one for delegation. But Micah has always had a way with the bees. A rapport. The most successful beekeepers do, you know.” Owen’s gaze shifted away from me and he frowned. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered.

I turned to find Micah Durant staring across the lawn at us. He’d removed his shirt and I could see the outline of his ribs along his emaciated torso. The back of my neck still tingled as if a bee had crawled inside my collar. I resisted the urge to put up a hand because I somehow knew that was what Micah wanted.