Midnight Bayou

wasn’t sure where I was going to use it when I bought it. Now I am.”
    Between them, they managed to slide it to the floor, then with Declan walking bent over and backward, they wove it around the islands of furniture. He had to stop once to move a sofa, again to shove a table aside.
    “You know,” Lena said as they both went down on their knees, panting a little, in the parlor, “in a couple months you’re going to be rolling this up again. Nobody leaves rugs down through the summer around here. Too damn hot.”
    “I’ll worry about that in June.”
    She sat back on her heels, patted his cheek. “Cher , you’re going to start thinking summer before April’s over. Okay.” She pushed up her sleeves, put her palms on the roll. “Ready?”
    On their hands and knees, they bumped along, pushing the carpet, revealing the pattern. She could catch only glimpses of the colors and texture, but it was enough to see why he wanted it here.
    The greens of leaves were soft, like the walls, and blended with faded pink cabbage roses against a deeper green background. Once it was unrolled, she got to her feet to study the effect while he fussed with squaring it up.
    “You bought yourself a rose garden, Declan. I can almost smell them.”
    “Great, huh? Really works in here. I’m going to use the two American Empire sofas, and I think the Biedermeier table. Start with those, then see.” He looked up at the ceiling medallion. “I saw this great chandelier—blown glass, very Dale Chihuly. I should’ve bought it.”
    “Why don’t we see how your sofas do first?”
    “Hmm? Oh, they’re heavy, I’ll get Remy to give me a hand with them later. He’s supposed to come by.”
    “I’m here now.”
    “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
    She merely shot him a look and started back into his makeshift storeroom.
    They’d just set the second one in place, she’d only stepped back to ponder the arrangement, when she heard the baby crying.
    She glanced over at Declan, but he seemed lost in thought.
    “Did one of your counter men bring a baby with him?” she asked, and Declan closed his eyes, sank down on the sofa.
    “You hear it? Nobody else hears it. The doors slamming, yeah. And water running when there’s nobody in the room to turn on the taps. But nobody hears the baby.”
    A chill whipped up her back, had her glancing uneasily toward the hallway. “Where is it?”
    “The nursery, mostly. Sometimes in the bedroom on the second floor. Abigail’s room. But usually the nursery. It stops when I get to the door. Remy’s been here twice when it started. He didn’t hear it. But you do.”
    “I have to see. I can’t stand hearing a baby crying that way.” She walked into the foyer, started up the stairs. And it stopped.
    For an instant, it seemed the whole house hushed.Then she heard the clamor from the kitchen, the stream of music from a radio, the hum of men’s voices as they worked.
    “That’s so strange.” She stood on the staircase, one hand on the banister. And her heart thumping. “I was thinking, I wanted to pick up the baby. People say you need to let babies cry, but I don’t know why they should. I was thinking that, and she stopped crying.”
    “It’s weird, isn’t it, that you were thinking about picking up your great-great-grandmother? It’s Marie Rose,” he said when Lena turned on the stairs to look down at him. “I’m sure of it. Maybe you can hear her because you’re blood. I guess I can because I own the house. I have a call in to the previous owners. I wanted to ask them, but they haven’t gotten back to me.”
    “They may not tell you.”
    “Well, they can’t tell me if I don’t ask. Does it scare you?”
    She looked up the stairs again and asked herself the same question. “I guess it should, but no, it doesn’t. It’s fascinating. I think—” She broke off as a door slammed upstairs. “Well, no baby did that.” So saying, she ran upstairs.
    “Lena.” But she was already rounding the curve to the landing and gave him no choice but to bolt after her.
    Marching down the hall, she flung doors open. As she reached Abigail’s room, the cold swept in. The shock of it had her breath huffing out. Mesmerized by the vapor it caused, she wrapped her arms tightly over her chest.
    “This isn’t like the baby,” she whispered.
    “No. It’s angry.” When he laid his hands on her shoulders to warm her, to draw her away, the door slammed in their faces.
    She