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"Honey, what are you talking about? Am I supposed to know who Rachel is? Whoever she is, why would she sneak in here to rearrange your orchids? And nearly give you a heart attack!"

  Still dreaming, or maybe hallucinating, Caroline was going crazy. It was becoming difficult to distinguish the difference between her dreams and real life.

  Kristy was fussing over her dabbing her face with a cloth and attempting to check her pulse rate. "I swear, Caroline, if you do that to me again I'll kick your butt. I don't care if you are bedridden. You had me freaking out. I've never seen anyone so white, not even in the horror movies. You seriously looked like a vampire."

  Caroline grabbed Kristy's hand and held it until she calmed down. "Okay, Kris, this is going to sound crazy, so just hear me out. Rachel is my great, great, great grandmother. Murdered in this room, but everyone thought she killed herself. Apparently her ghost is determined to clear her reputation by haunting me."

  Kristy sat on the bed, silent, staring at Caroline. She touched Caroline's forehead with the back of her fingertips. Caroline knew Kristy wouldn't believe her. She knocked her hand away. "I don't have fever. I'm completely sane and didn't believe it at first either, but those flowers just proved everything I doubted." Caroline pointed to the arranged orchids. "Rachel did that. I just saw it in my dream. . .the three orchids for the shape of an F. It's her. She's here. . .now."

  "Rachel? The. . .uh, ghost. . .of your great, great, great grandmother?"

  While Kristy was trying to digest what she just told her, Caroline noticed it missing. "Where's the jewelry box?" She'd been so busy she forgot to look for it earlier.

  Kristy let out a frustrated sigh. "Caroline, what jewelry box? You're talking crazy. What is going on? I'm so confused. You're not gonna go all creepy-puking-exorcist-chick on me are you?"

  "The antique jewelry box that was on the dressing table. Have you seen it?"

  "Sweetheart, I have no idea what you are talking about. There was nothing on this dresser when I got here. I believe I would have noticed an antique jewelry box if there was one there."

  Caroline pushed herself up. Her head lolled, like a bowling ball balanced on a toothpick and Kristy adjusted the pillows to support the heavy weight. Caroline closed her eyes to the spinning room, and, when she finally opened them, the clarity was like looking through someone else's eyes. She asked Kristy to look under the bed, up against the wall.

  "Honey, I think you need to rest a little more. You're not making much sense right now. Whatever you dreamed about must have been pretty intense, because you're acting crazy. Here, why don't you lie back down."

  Caroline held her hand up to stop Kristy from going any further. "Kristy, please. Humor me. Just look under the bed against the wall to see if the jewelry box is there."

  She rolled her eyes and knelt down on the floor as she peeked beneath the bed. "Oh. My. Gosh. How the heck did you know this thing was under here?"

  Caroline went numb. In her most recent dream, Rachel hid the jewelry box under the bed. Rachel's ghost was trying to tell her something. But what?

  "Can you reach it?"

  Kristy scoffed. "Not without crawling under the bed on my belly, and you really are crazy if you think I'm about to do that because of a dream. We'll get your Cajun cupcake up here for that."

  This was so frustrating! What was Rachel trying to tell her? It didn't help that Caroline's head throbbed. "Can you get me some of that pain medicine? My head is pounding."

  She stood slowly. "S-sure, C. Of course. So, these dreams you're having. . .are they, like, premonitions or something?"

  She swallowed the pills and took a deep breath. "I don't think so. Aren't premonitions something you see that hasn't happened yet? The stuff I'm seeing is what happened to her back when she was alive in the 1800s. It's like watching a movie that someone keeps pausing. Confusing at first, then it was fascinating, now it's just frustrating. I'm ready for the dreams to end. She's wearing me out. Anyway, I had asked Cade to stay up here with me one time because strange things were happening in this room and I was a little freaked out."

  Kristy nodded exaggeratedly. "Well, yeah. I can totally see why. He's a hottie. But a ghost? Really? I just don't know, C. I mean, do we need to call someone or something? The Ghostbusters? A medium? A Ouija board?"

  "Kristy, don't patronize me. I'm serious." Caroline recounted all the odd happenings, and Kristy, thankfully, kept her sarcasm to a minimum. "Now the orchids. In my dream, her husband, Jackson, my great, great, great Grandpa Fontenot, had strategically placed these orchids in her room with a love note attached to each one. They had just gotten married and he had placed them in the shape of an 'F' for Fontenot. It was very sweet."

  Caroline's cell phone rang. Kristy looked at her without moving. They both recognized Trevor's ringtone.

  "Do you want me to answer it for you? Do you feel like talking?"

  "Yes, I can talk. Will you get it for me? Did anyone call him to tell him what happened?"

  "Nope. We left that honor exclusively to you."

  "Great. Well, I'm not gonna tell him, either. He doesn't need to worry."

  Kristy handed Caroline the phone and walked out, mumbling under her breath. "Yeah, I'm sure he would just be worried sick."

  "Hey, baby," Trevor said. "I've been calling you. How's it going?"

  "Great! Everything is great. How are you?"

  "I'm doing well. Are you sure? I'm really sorry about everything that happened this past weekend. I thought about it, and I acted like a complete jerk. Can you ever forgive me?"

  "Yes, I forgave you already. It's okay. I'm sure that's just a touch of the many fights we'll have in our marriage. I just wish you would have let me explain before you flew off the handle. I still love you, so we're cool."

  "Good. That's music to my ears. Listen, I can't talk long, I just wanted to call and apologize. I love you, and I can't wait for you to come home." Caroline's gut twinged as she hung up. Chicago didn't feel like home. . .not like Louisiana did. Not like this house.