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  The Ripple

  A Hemisphere Story

  J.J. Belding

  Copyright © 2017 J.J. Belding

  All rights reserved.

  This book is dedicated to my Hemisphere cohorts. They've been great to work with and make working on this project loads of fun. I also can't thank Kathie, Kelly, and Lee enough for the help in making The Ripple the best it can be. And Kathie… There are no words that could ever express my appreciation for the hours you spend finding and righting my 'time' inconsistencies.

  Dear Friend,

  Consider this your welcome to Hemisphere. You might think your presence here is an accident. Maybe you believe you just stumbled onto our website, liked what you saw, and decided to check us out. Or that you simply found yourself here while on a leisurely drive.

  Well, you'd be wrong.

  It was fate.

  Yes, you're here because fate led you here. Because you are meant to be here. Why? That remains to be seen. Maybe you'll wind up calling Hemisphere your home. Maybe we're just a stop in the road on your way to somewhere else. Maybe you'll remember your time with us. Most do not.

  One thing is for sure though, you’ll never find another place like Hemisphere. It's one-of-a-kind.

  Hemisphere is a unique location, steeped in mysticism. All are welcome within our boundaries. We'd like to tell you there's a simple explanation for the things you may see or experience during your stay. A little theatrical drama, if you will. But it wouldn't be true. Here in Hemisphere, the things that go bump in the night are very real.

  If you decide to stay past sundown, we encourage you to read the Visitors Orientation Packet. The warning about "calamity or death by misadventure?" It's not a joke.

  It would behoove you to follow the advice inside. We also suggest traveling in groups, or hiring a local “guide” to show you around our beautiful town.

  Common sense should tell you to use caution when hiking in any unfamiliar area. The forests and cliffs surrounding Hemisphere are beautiful. They are also home to a variety of wild creatures found nowhere else on earth. Don’t be caught unaware. It should go without saying – stay out of the woods and off the cliffs after dark.

  Again, welcome to Hemisphere. Fate has led you to our area. What happens next is up to you. Choose wisely.

  Coming 12/12/17!

  When Kate Proctor's grandfather is murdered, she inherits everything—including the old depot he loved so much. But with the depot comes a surprise. Or twelve, to be exact. Ghosts. She's inherited a dozen ghosts who, after decades of haunting Hemisphere, are bored. And scared. If Kate sells the property, what will happen to them? And if she doesn't, she shouldn't have to feel guilty. Should she? But can she turn her back on them? The quiet, thoughtful—and kind of sexy Ezra. And then there's Hannah…

  Everything is change; and you cannot step twice into the same river. -Mary Renault

  CHAPTER 1

  Boing!

  Wyatt Garber almost snickered when the string on the cartoon guitar in his head snapped. Almost. He knew the image came to mind just then because the muscles in his neck and shoulders had felt tight as a high E for weeks. If something didn't give soon, if his boss didn't lay off and let him have these few days to make things right with Tessa, he was going to be boing-ing all over the place.

  "He knows I start on Thursday, right?" he asked, his hand tightening around the cell phone so hard he knew his knuckles would be white. "The six days between now and then aren't going to make or break his company."

  "Listen, Wyatt. Max Sanderson has been chomping at the bit to get MS Tool and Die running like the well-oiled machine I promised you'd deliver. I don't know why you can't take your little sightseeing trip another time. I swear if I have to listen to one more message from him because he's having a meltdown, I'm going to be spitting bullets. And believe me, Wyatt, they're going to have your name engraved on them. You call him as soon as you stop for gas or a meal or whatever. I don't care. Reassure him that everything is going to be fine – and make him believe it because nothing I'm saying is getting through. I'm not joking. Capisci?"

  "Yes, sir," he muttered, wondering why he'd ever thought working for Richard Tucci would be a great career move. A heartless tyrant who never made his own family a priority, there was never any question that his employees' families rated less than nothing.

  After a few more minutes of orders, Richard finally hung up on him and Wyatt tucked the phone back in the console between the seats with a bit more force than was necessary.

  What he really wanted was to send it through the windshield but he took a slow deep breath instead, willing his lips to form the words that would disappoint Tessa. Again. He'd promised her a one-hundred percent break from work. It would just be the two of them with no pressure, no responsibilities, and no boss trying to demand more from him than he was prepared to give right now.

  Except Richard seemed determined to sabotage his plans. No wonder so many of his co-workers were on their second and third marriages. Others had resigned themselves to being single forever. Sanderson's Solutions might be a huge success in saving businesses but it was equally good at destroying relationships.

  "I'm sorry," he started to say but Tessa cut him off before he could say more.

  "I heard," she said, her voice devoid of emotion as she pressed closer to the door than she'd been before. And that had been close. Another fraction of an inch and they would become one.

  "In one quarter of a mile take the County Road 13 exit. At the stop sign, turn left and continue for three and a half miles."

  The computerized voice pushed that image out of his head and he glanced at the surrounding area.

  There were no billboards. There were no blue signs put up by the state advertising hotels, gas stations, and restaurants either. In fact, there was nothing to indicate they were close to the town where he'd made reservations for the next few nights. Just the freeway and thick woods on either side of it. Nothing like keeping its location a secret.

  Shrugging, he flipped the blinker on when the GPS reminded him less than half a minute later. Good thing too or he'd have missed it.

  "That's weird," he murmured, pressing lightly on the brake. "I've never seen an exit sign that blends in so well with the area." In fact, if it hadn't been for the GPS, he'd have missed it.

  Tessa didn't acknowledge that he'd said anything though. Of course, she hadn’t spoken ten words since they'd rolled out of bed for today's leg of the trip. At least not to him. But to gas station attendants, waitresses, and strangers they’d met along the way? Why she’d been a regular chatterbox. Probably getting any need for conversation out of her system in preparation for the hours they'd be cooped up in the car together.

  “In five-hundred feet, turn right on Cedar Street,” the female voice he’d programmed into the system instructed. At least she was talking to him.

  Wyatt flipped the turn signal and slowed at the intersection, grateful the light was green. According to the miniscule map on the screen, they were nearly there. He glanced over to see if Tessa was taking any interest in their surroundings but she was still hugging the door, her eyes glued to a book she’d been holding for the past four-hundred and twenty-six miles. Once in a while, he’d caught her turning a page but for the most part, she'd just been staring at the pages, pretending he wasn't there.

  “In a quarter of a mile, turn left on Bay Mills Boulevard."

  Up ahead, he could see a harbor dotted with a handful of small watercraft. A couple of sailboats bucked and rolled over choppy waves, their billowing sails stretched taut against the wind. There were several pontoons anchored not far from the shore, fishing lines cast into the water. If they were catching anything, he would have been surprised.

  "Your destination is one hund
red feet ahead on the left."

  Wyatt turned the GPS off as he straightened the wheel. He'd never been much for sentimentality but his first thought was that if he'd been raised on this quiet, peaceful road instead of in a cold, soulless mansion in New Hampshire, he'd have never left home.

  On his left, full trees cast long shadows beneath their canopies of leaves. To his right, a white stone balustrade stood out against the blue of the water beyond the cliffs. He could just imagine what it would look like near dusk, when the bottom of the setting sun would appear to rest atop its railing. Stunning was the only word that came to mind.

  And then he saw a carved and painted sign proclaiming Cottage Inn Bed and Breakfast. Nearer the road there was a For Sale sign swinging from a wooden post. Vaguely, he wondered why anyone in their right mind would be selling a prime piece of property like this.

  Lush and green and spacious, more trees than he could count, including what looked to be a few fruit bearing ones out back. A charming, roomy house. And the view of the harbor? He couldn't imagine anything or any other place that would be better than this.

  With a sigh, he turned into the gravel drive, parking in a small lot hidden from view by neatly trimmed shrubs. It was close enough to the house he wouldn't get a hernia carrying their suitcases, yet far enough away that vehicles didn't detract from the picturesque scene.

  "Ready to get out of this for the day?" he asked, forcing a cheerfulness he wasn't feeling into his tone.

  Tessa shrugged, closed her book, tucked it into her purse, then whipped her door open, exiting the car before he could even think about hurrying around to open it for her. He sighed again, got out, and took their traveling cases from the backseat. It was going to be another long night.

  Wyatt hesitated before opening one of the heavy double doors, taking a moment to admire the arched, leaded glass windows. They were a thing of beauty with wide crosses centered in each one. He glanced at the windows to each side and sure enough, they had crosses too. He wondered if all of them were the same, and if they were, if it was originally built as a monastery.

  He didn't wonder long though because Tessa opened the door and they stepped into a large foyer. A coat rack and long table with a hand crocheted runner sat to their left with the gleaming cherry wood registration counter to their right. The home was as attractive inside as it was out and even Tessa's perpetual scowl dropped away long enough to stare in open-mouthed awe.

  "Welcome to Cottage Inn" A woman who seemed to appear out of nowhere greeted them with a warm smile. "Are you the Garbers?"

  "How did you know?" Tessa asked, surprised. The woman chuckled.

  "The rest of my guests have already checked in. Yours is the only room still vacant so it was an easy guess. I'm Barbara Hunter. It's a pleasure to meet you. Let's get you registered."

  Wyatt vaguely remembered seeing something on the website about a city ordinance dictating that the inn's doors were to be locked from sunset to sunup and that if guests missed the curfew, they wouldn't be allowed in until morning. And there would be no refunds either. That warning was repeated in the register, and on the charge card receipt.

  Once that was taken care of, Mrs. Hunter handed him a yellow folder that read, 'Visitor's Welcome Packet. Failure to read could result in calamity or death by misadventure."

  His brows drew together for a moment before he remembered seeing an advertisement on the Hemisphere website about their yearly celebration. If memory served, it was called the Fortnight of Fright Festival and it took place from late October through early November. It would still be going on, he realized, then chuckled, thinking they took their festival a little too seriously.

  Soon, they were walking up a carpeted stairway to their room. Their hostess looped her arm through Tessa's, leaving Wyatt to follow with the bags.

  Not surprising, his wife even more talkative than she'd been with the other strangers they'd met throughout the day. The paintings gracing the walls were beautiful, the dark wood flooring so shiny she could see her reflection, and the silver pattern on the white wallpaper gorgeous.

  She gushed forever over their room as well, probably trying to avoid the moment when they would be alone. They still shared a bed but Tessa made sure to keep as much space between them as their mattress would allow. For the duration of their stay, it would be a lot of space as the only room available had been a king.

  Wyatt set their cases down, then turned in a slow circle to familiarize himself with their temporary home. A small vintage washtub – full of rock salt, if he wasn't mistaken – sat in a corner by the door and with a grin, he couldn't help but wonder if they had a problem with icy hallways in the winter.

  There were more paintings, along with cross-stitched samplers on the walls, and it struck him as odd that they, too, had crosses in them. Maybe the people who owned it just had a thing for crosses?

  Shaking his head at the unusual choice in décor, he wandered over to a roll top desk between two windows overlooking the bay. Lifting the cover, he was pleased to discover a small stack of postcards, a painted tin of ink pens and an antique inkwell and quill.

  He hoped the latter was functional because it might be fun to use one. Judging by the expression on his wife's face when he glanced her way, it was likely the only fun he was going to experience during this little getaway.

  Chapter 2

  Being a bed and breakfast, Cottage Inn served one meal to their guests, and only if they were in the dining room between six-thirty and nine o'clock in the morning. Mrs. Hunter did provide a fruit and cheese plate, along with wine and designer water in the great room in the evening but that was it as far as sustenance went.

  For lunch and dinner, she'd ticked off a list of restaurants in the area, giving her highest seal of approval to a nearby diner. The food, she promised, was better than good and if they left hungry, it would only be because they hadn't cleaned their plates.

  Hoping to spend a little more time in a relaxed atmosphere, Wyatt suggested they walk the few blocks. Not only would they be able to see more of this little section of town, they could also enjoy the cool breeze blowing in off the water.

  Tessa hadn't been enthused but agreed it would be a waste of gas for such a short drive. It was far from a romantic walk though. As she'd done in the car the past couple of days, and as she'd been doing in bed the past couple of months, she kept as much space between them as possible.

  At the pace Tessa set, it didn't take long to reach their destination and in a few short minutes, they were walking in the door of Big Ed's Chicken & Waffles. The aroma of a dozen or more different foods assaulted Wyatt's nose and his stomach growled, reminding him that it had been hours since they'd last eaten.

  "Good evening," a pretty blond waitress greeted from the register stand just inside the door. She waved an arm toward the packed dining room to her right. "We always have a crowd on Fridays so I'm afraid the booths and tables are full. If it's just the two of you, there are a couple of stools at the counter but if you'd rather wait, it'll be fifteen or twenty minutes."

  "The counter is fine," Tessa assured her, flashing a smile, even as she flinched away from the hand Wyatt placed against the small of her back.

  God, he missed being able to touch her. Missed her touching him. He couldn't remember the last time they'd held hands, snuggled on the sofa to watch a movie, or made love. He wished he could figure out what he'd done that was so wrong. Securing their future should have been as important to her as it was to him.

  He waited for her to take her seat on one of the round, vinyl covered stools before taking his own, then grabbing one of the menus tucked the behind the salt and pepper shakers. Unlike most little diners he'd been in, these weren't stained and sticky, making him want to run to the bathroom to wash his hands after putting it back.

  An older waitress, this one with short graying hair, plunked a couple of water glasses down in front of them, directing them to the whiteboard on the wall to their left.

  "Specials toda
y are all you can eat fish and swiss steak," she told them. "I'll give you a few minutes to figure out what you want."

  Tessa didn't glance his way as she looked at the offerings on the glossy pages, just ignored him as had become her habit. After coming to a decision, she put the menu back, then pulled out the book she kept pretending to read.

  He should have known better than to think this trip would be enough to fix whatever was wrong with their marriage. She refused to see that he was trying, that he wasn't responsible for his boss being a jerk. Nope. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to make her happy.

  After they placed their orders, Tessa turned her gaze back to the book. Wyatt turned his to everything that was directly in front of him, and a little to the right and left. Whatever he could see without actually moving his head. He didn't want anyone to think he was staring or being nosy, especially not his wife. Alone in a crowd? Yeah. That feeling was becoming more familiar by the minute.

  Big Ed's was a typical small town diner with coffee and soda machines and a countertop cooler filled with slices of pie and cake displayed on round silver disks. The order window with its ticket wheel was directly across from him.

  He watched a bald black cook whistling as he prepared orders. Once, their eyes met and held for a long moment. Wyatt felt like someone looked into his soul and discovered all of his secrets.

  As they waited for their food, he tried to think of things he and Tessa might do for the few days they would be here. There was the museum, of course, and the oddly themed festival. His wife had never been a big fan of spooky things though so he'd have to break out his laptop when they got back to the B&B and do a little research.

  At some point, he became aware of the nearly constant jingle of the bell above the door. Curious, he looked around the dining room, shocked to find nearly all of the tables and booths empty now. The line to the register was long but he figured most customers must be paying with cash because it was getting shorter by the second.